#I feel like Gale would be laughing now

[thedawningofthehour]

I googled bull dick for…a tool Gale calls by a nickname😂😭

I didn’t ask you to do that.

[fairsweetlonging]

i love writing about shen qingqiu flirting with people but not knowing he does it, and never realizing what effect it has on people or when they flirt back

for instance, he doesn't quite have a grasp on the usage of flowery, poetic speech yet, so he uses it in ways that are more suggestive than he means to. he compliments liu qingge's fighting style but the words he uses are "dancing like a snow lotus in the high mountain gales" and liu qingge turns so red shen qingqiu thinks he has a fever. he also said to wei qingwei that if only he was better a guqing player he would capture the sound of his laughter (wei qingwei has a boisterous laugh and this was meant to be teasing) and wei qingwei lay awake for three nights thinking about that.

he'd try to banter with yue qingyuan in the sort of taunting style of the original sqq, but in doing so accidentally strays into "shixiong should just bring his pillow and move in with how much he visits" "well if shidi insists" territory, and he doesn't realize it.

he pretends to be jealous when liu qingge goes on a mission with someone else, saying things like "shidi is having so much fun with [other peak lord], am i not enough? has my heart been traded for another?" with a fake pout that's supposed to be playful, but that inadvertently causes liu qingge to only accept missions with him or by himself, and of course shen qingqiu keeps digging this hole deeper by then acting flattered when liu qingge invites only him to the hunt.

he also definitely goes a little shakespearean sometimes to be dramatic, but people take that serious too. one time shang qinghua was too busy to read/write with him, so he complained to whoever listened, "the cruelty of his words have ripped my heart asunder, never again will i feel joy from what has now turned to sorrow", and two days later shang qinghua asks him what the hell he said to make half of the peak lords show up angry at his house like scorned lovers

in my mind he has also made a "chain me to the bed to have your way" kind of comment about his without a cure treatment, because mu qingfang added twenty new concoctions to the list that are yucky and shen yuan doesn't like yucky things, but even he was like "hm" about that and their next appointment was a little awkward.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Soft Astarion Jealousy

Now with part 2!

I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺

So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:

Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.

Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.

Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.

Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?

Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.

Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.

What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"

An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.

It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.

Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.

It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.

The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.

"But I'd never even consider something like that-"

"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"

A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.

But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."

It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.

Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."

You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"

"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."

"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"

"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?

You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."

And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?

He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.

Would poisoning the man be too extreme?

But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.

He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"

You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."

"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."

To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.

You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.

But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."

Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"

"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."

That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"

You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"

"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.

But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"

You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"

"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"

It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"

"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.

But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"

Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.

He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.

But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."

Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."

The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.

He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.

He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.

You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.

But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.

[astarion-approves]

More than sex.

Astarion x gn! Tav

"You’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”

“Yes.”

Rating: Mature (for the subject but no actual sex or smut in any way shape or form.) Tags: Demisexuality, demisexual Tav, Demisexual Reader, No Smut, gn! Reader, Slight spoilers, Act One spoilers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Drabble, short and sweet, Confessions

Ao3 or keep reading below:

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“I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”

Tav considered these words, anytime they saw Astarion having ‘fun’ was on the battlefield. Either stabbing his way through anything that stood before him, or sneaking up behind them and slitting their throat before they could even scream. “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

Astarion smiled, taking a sip of his cheap wine before speaking, “By the hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. So, how about—“

“Shadowheart is free.” Tav looked over their shoulder to where she stood by her own tent where she fiddled with a bottle of wine attempting to open it with slow hands. 

“Wait, what—“ Astarion shifted to look past Tav to where she stood, the woman catching his gaze and glaring in return. 

“And she’s really pretty too,” Tav offered. 

“I’m not interested in hearing her praise her goddess tonight.” 

“Well, there’s also Lae’zel—“

Astarion shook his head. “I think she would rather behead me before she would ever bed me.”

“Halsin is available too—“ The Druid elf was handsome, and such a powerful one at that but before Tav could even finish, Astarion cut them off.

“Tempting, but not the one I’m interested in.” 

“Gale—“

“No.” 

Tav hummed, putting their hands on their hips as they scanned the rest of the camp. There were many others, but most were already too drunk to even remember their own names. “I can’t think of anyone else.” 

“There’s always you, darling.” 

“Me?” Tav snorted a laugh. Surely he must have been joking. Of all the people that Astarion could have… Tav would personally put themselves at the bottom of the list. 

“Yes, you. It’s not everyday someone like yourself would be propositioned by someone like me, and this may be your last opportunity—“

“No thank you.” 

“No?! What do you mean ‘no’?!” Astarion was shocked, his hands jumping to his chest as if Tav had stabbed him directly in the heart. 

Tav grimaced, the way that Astarion’s face dropped, the hurt that filled his eyes so quickly… “Look, I’m not… rejecting you—“

“Sure sounds like rejection to me—“

They shook their head. “I need to be in love first… before I can…” Tav lifted their hands, gesturing towards Astarion in a weak display of trying to find the words and failing. “Don’t get me wrong… you’re- you are breathtaking, Astarion. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—“ 

“Yes, I know. But– you’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?” 

“Yes.”

Astarion paused, taken aback. “Well, that’s actually quite admirable… But why?” 

“For me, I want it to mean something. Sex is an easily obtainable thing, but love… love you have to work for, to fight for, to earn and to cherish. Sex is great and all but… making love to the person who means the most to you in the world. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.” 

Astarion tapped his finger against his lips, thinking to himself before speaking again. “Hm. Sex and love, I never took you for such a sap,” he said with a light laugh. “Well, how do you feel about being friends then, hm? The kind of friends that protect one another, that is.” 

Tav chuckled. “I think it’s too late for that.” 

“Too late?! So what, now we can’t even be friends?!” Astarion threw his hands up, frustrated. “All I did was hit on you and now—“ 

“No, no,” Tav cut him off, reaching for Astarion’s hands and holding them gently. “What I mean… We can be friends but… I have developed some feelings for you. If you want to be friends, that’s fine. That’s great, actually. I just… well, I need to know if I should ignore those feelings—“  

Astatrion pulled his hands way, choosing to gesture towards Tav as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You have ‘some’ feelings for me?”

“Yes,” Tav replied with a nod. 

“But you don’t want to fuck me, tonight? Right now?” 

“Right.” They nodded again. 

“How very interesting… and even.. a little refreshing,” Astarion smiled, a smile that almost seemed shy… With his head turning away from Tav—and Tav swore they saw the smallest blush growing on his cheeks. 

“Refreshing?” Tav questioned, learning towards Astarion in an attempt to see that adorable blush— 

Astarion waved them off, the blush already gone and Astarion back to his usual self. “Never mind that, Tav. I guess we can see where this goes then?” He reached out, taking Tav’s hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever this is, anyway.” 

Tav smiled. “I’d like that.” 

[celestialowlbear]

✨♡ Gale NSFW Drabble ♡✨

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader (Tav)

Summary: Gale indulges in you. Hehe.

WC: 1200

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. No plot. Just smut. Face riding. Female receiving oral. Mention of PiV sex. Established relationship. Reader/Tav not described. Bulleted list.

A/N: Now it’s Gale’s turn for thots I just needed to get on a page. It became longer than I expected, haha. He’s an oral king. I don’t make the rules. Enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

You lifted your gaze from your book, sneaking a glance at Gale who sat on a comfortable loveseat across from you.

You weren’t surprised to catch Gale staring right back at you with a peculiar twinkle in his eye.

You knew the look, his brown eyes drinking in your form from where he sat.

He quietly shut his book, placing it to the side.

Gale stood up and settled by you on the plush couch you were lounging on.

He kissed your shoulder as you tried to pay attention to your literature.

You already knew what he wanted, but you loved making him work for it.

“Don’t mind me, my love,” Gale whispered, his voice already husky with desire. “You know I can’t stay away from you for long.”

Gale’s skilled hands wandered as his lips did the same, kissing up your neck and letting his fingers dance under the hem of your top

You smirk, no longer paying attention to the words on the page, your body immediately pliant under his touch.

“We’ve been in the tower all day…you haven’t been far from me at all.” You teased quietly, tilting your head to give him better access.

Gale hummed against your skin. “Still not close enough, I’m afraid.”

One of Gale’s hands was fully under your top now, caressing and teasing your breast.

“I want to taste you if you’ll allow me the privilege.”

You let out a soft sigh, Gale’s beard tickling you as he kissed your neck, nipping at the points he knew made you melt.

“How can I deny such a request?”

Gale lifted his head from your neck, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Let’s get comfortable then, shall we?” Gale pressed his forehead to yours, muttering something under his breath.

In an instant, you were lying on your shared bed with Gale next to you, both of your clothing gone.

The perks of being in a relationship with a wizard.

“Come here, my love. Take a seat on your throne.” Gale smirked as he gestured at his face, lying on his back.

You settle on top of him, your thighs surrounding his head.

Gale squeezes the fat off your thighs, looking up at you with a wild hunger in his eyes.

“You are stunning like this.”

Gale brought his lips to your folds, not giving you a chance to respond.

You gasped his name instead as he slowly kissed your thoroughly wet cunt, probing his tongue at your entrance.

You gripped the bed’s headboard, your thighs already trembling around his head.

You could feel his beard wonderfully scratch against your inner legs, adding more pleasurable sensations to what he was already doing.

Gale was taking his time, still lazily kissing at your folds as he would your mouth.

You wanted to rock down onto him desperately, your clit beginning to throb with need.

Gale was purposefully avoiding that part of you, drawing out your pleasure.

Gale also didn’t want this to end too quickly, thoroughly enjoying servicing you just like this.

“Gale…” you ground out. “More…please…”

Gale hummed in response, tightening his grip on your thighs.

“Patience, my love.” He murmured, grazing his nose against your clit. “Like a good wine, you must be savored. You deserve such treatment.”

You let out an airy laugh at his comparison, feeling him smile against your swollen folds as he picked up the pace, swirling around your clit.

You whined, his tongue providing the relief you were so desperate for.

Gale gently probed at your clit, alternating between your entrance and swollen bud.

“Ah…Gale…!” You cried out as he began massaging your clit with his tongue, his composure quickly crumbling at the sounds leaving your throat.

Your trembling body, his name leaving your lips in broken moans, feeling your clit swell with each pass of his tongue, it was all absolute perfection.

No magic could ever compare to having you like this.

Gale released one of your thighs to cup your ass, giving it a hearty squeeze as he continued his meal, obscene sounds filling the room as you rocked your hips on his face.

Gale was completely lost in you, your scent filling his nostrils, your arousal coating his beard, your soft skin now damp with sweat under his fingertips.

The molten pleasure was building in your spine, Gale finding a rhythm he knew would have you shattering above him before long.

Your fingernails were digging into the fabric of the headboard, bucking your hips against his lips in time with his tongue, which was now fully focusing on your clit.

“Gale…don’t stop…please…I’m…” You were breathless, opening your eyes that had been squeezed shut, looking down between your legs.

Gale was once again already staring at you, his eyes dark and blown with lust. Strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead, looking disheveled.

His eyes weren’t just filled with lust, but pure passion. Love. Unwavering commitment.

You crashed over the edge, locking your eyes with his as your orgasm rocked your body.

Ecstasy blossomed from your core to every nerve, intense and mind-numbing.

You chanted Gale’s name like an incantation, your entire body convulsing and shuddering above him.

Gale moaned loudly into your pussy, keeping up his pace, wanting to taste and feel every bit of your pleasure.

Gale lapped up the gush of your release, your cunt pulsing with your orgasm against his mouth.

Gale could feel his cock aching between his legs, his body ignited with desire, knowing he could make you feel this way with just his mouth. He couldn’t help the bit of pride that swelled in his chest.

You came down from your high, ragged breath and limp body, sliding off his face to lay next to him.

Gale was breathing heavily too, his beard dripping with your release.

He turned on his side to face you, a smile gracing his features.

“Thank you for letting a wizard indulge himself.” He traced his hand over your flushed cheek.

You chuckled, bringing a hand down to his rigid length, caressing it ever so gently.

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

Gale’s eyes closed as he let out a low moan.

You captured his lips with yours in a fiery kiss.

You could taste your tangy release on your lips, his beard soaking with it. Your tongues danced momentarily, desire burning between your legs once again.

“I don’t think we are done indulging in one another, my dear.” You purred, gently pushing Gale over to be on his back once again.

You climbed on top of him, positioning yourself over his cock.

Fire danced in his eyes as he gripped your hips, lifting his own hips ever so slightly to push his leaking tip into your tight entrance.

Gale entered you with no resistance, both of you groaning in bliss as you took him to the hilt.

You both sat there momentarily, taking one another in. You leaned forward, entwining your fingers with his above his head for leverage.

Gale let out a deep rumble, something between a chuckle and a growl as he felt you clench around him.

“Oh no, my love. We are far from being finished. I’d say we are just getting started.”

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

Tagging @ladyzirkonia as requested 😘

[frantic-fiction]

Unexpected

Pic: @cheekylittlepupp (I love her posts)

Astarion x gn!Tav, Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: A night of seduction takes an unexpected turn, leaving Astarion to realize just how deep his feelings for Tav have developed.

Warnings: Astarion not knowing how to handle affection. Mild disassociation. Astarion has a lot of confusing feels.

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

Astarion sprawls across the blanket, his spine cracking against the stretch. A reflexive groan escapes him. His arms are crossed to cushion his head while the sun's heat seeps into his bones. The last time he felt this warm and relaxed was when his heart still beat in his chest. He feels like he could trance, in just a moment.

It still baffles him, the luck of it all. Being ripped right out of that bastard's chains, only to be dropped in the middle of nowhere with a tadpole in his head and a bunch of problematic weirdos for company. And Tav. Tav, who Astarion has yet to fully figure out. 

At first, he thought the naive little hero thing was all an act, but no, that was just Tav. And a sweet, naive person was exactly who he needed to keep his place in this group. He had already seduced them; now, he just needed to keep them on his side.

Astarion is pulled from his thoughts. He's not sure why until his ears twitch at the sound of boots scuffing on dirt. Pushing up on his elbows, Astarion looks up towards the tree line. 

Tav, slightly obscured by clouds of disturbed dust, is trudging up the west trail. Their body seems to have deflated, shoulders slumped, both hands gripping their pack straps as if the moment they let go, the heavy bag would pull them to the ground.

Tav looks exhausted, not the kind brought on by a poor night's rest or a long day's travel. But one that builds up slowly, from continuous tasks and responsibilities, with constant eyes looking for guidance in a time none could imagine experiencing. The suffocating feeling that claws its way under the skin, burying deep behind fake smiles and pleasantries.

Sitting up further, he watches Tav start to make their rounds. First to Gale, they pull a necklace out of their pocket before placing it in his palm. The wizard makes what's sure to be a subpar joke, and Tav's delicate laugh rings out—Astarion glares in annoyance. 

Tav says goodbye and moves over to Wyll. They unsheaths a polished rapier- a replacement for the one Wyll managed to break when they fought against a pack of minotaurs. It's ridiculous if you ask Astarion, but Tav tells him to keep his comments to himself and, as they say, "don't bite the hand that feeds." 

After a quick hello to Lae'zel, Tav's eyes find Astarion. They perk up a bit, a timid smile stretching their plump lips. Astarion is now fully on his feet, returning their smile with a smirk of his own.

"Hello, my sweet," Astarion says, moving behind Tav. "Let me," he pulls the straps off Tav's shoulders, letting the heavy pack fall into his arms. "Hells, my dear, you carried this all the way from town."

"It's not that heavy," they mumble, reaching for the bag.

Astarion swiftly pulls the pack from Tav's reach. "What did you get?" He quirks his brow and unlatches the pack to begin sifting through its contents.

Tav huffs something under their breath and crosses their arms, but makes no further attempt to reach for the bag. 

The pack is brimming with food, potions, arrows, daggers, and scrolls, all basic supplies. "Boring," Astarion says, tossing the bag to the side carelessly.

"If anything broke, it's coming from your gold pouch."

"Yes, yes, of course," Astarion says, waving his hand casually before turning up the charm. They look up at him with lidded eyes and a glaze over look . "Are you alright?" Astarion asks, his voice laced with played-up concern.

"Hmm... O-Oh, yeah, yes, I'm fine." Their eyes dart away, seeming to look for the next lie. "You know me; I'm always doing good."

Astarion glances around the camp, looking at the others. None seemed to be paying attention to the two of them. He steps forward and brushes a strand of hair behind Tav's ear, trailing his fingers down their neck.

"I've begun to know you very well, my sweet, and I can tell you are exhausted."

"I'll be fine," Tav catches his hand and starts to play with his fingers.

Astarion freezes, brow furrowing in confusion. They're just pulling slightly at his hand. An odd feeling settles in Astarion's stomach.

Why are they doing that?

They let go a moment later, and Astarion pulls his hand back quickly.

"I've got to talk with Shadowheart; if you'd like, you can feed on me tonight." Tav hesitates before quickly pecking his cheek and skipping off.

Astarion is left staring after them with this dreadful fluttering in his stomach. A hand absentmindedly touches his cheek. His mouth feels dry, and he swallows hard. 

Astarion has an idea brewing that would please Tav, and maybe he would even get another of those soft kisses.

Why would he care for another damn kiss? Gods, what is happening to him? Is it the damn tadpole?

It's nightfall when Astarion finds Tav again. They are sat on the ground, suffocated between a growing owlbear cub and a slobbery dog. Scratch's tail wags and the subtle movement of Tav's hands petting each animal's fur are the only movements. Tav's eyes are closed, and their face is relaxed.

"Should I grab the cleric?"

"No, I think the rogue will do just fine." 

Tav's eyes open, their face breaking into a bright smile. They sit up, displacing the animals who no longer consider Tav a suitable bed. 

"Time for dinner?" Tav wiggles their fingers at them, beckoning for assistance.

Astarion scoffs but grabs their wrists and pulls Tav to their feet. Tav stumbles forward a step and presses into him. He gets the urge to kiss them for no reason other than he wants to and almost leans down to do just that when Tav speaks.

"So… my tent or yours?"

Astarion blinks out of his thoughts. "Right, I think my tent tonight,” he offers his arm, which Tav takes. "This way, my dear."

Tav allows Astarion to escort them to his tent, where upon entrance, on a small table sits a platter containing a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese he nipped from Gale's pack, alongside a fresh vine of grapes he may or may not have gone all the way to the bloody town for. Tav mentioned it was their favorite fruit, and hearing the shocked gasp made that obnoxious trip at least worth it.

"What's all this for?"

"I was feeling a bit peckish tonight, so I decided to have a nice meal. I merely wanted to rub it in your face."

Tav rolls their eyes and punches him in the arm dropping to the ground. They pluck a grape from the vine, pop it in their mouth, and pierce the skin with their teeth. 

"Where did you even get all this?"

"If I told you the lengths I went," Astarion says, pulling out a bottle of wine and popping the cork. "I would have to kill you, Darling. I've got an image to keep."  He pours out a glass and passes it over.

Tav chuckles and thanks him and takes a sip. Astarion sits on a cushion beside Tav with his own glass, watching them slice the bread. It quiets long enough for Tav to finish the slice of bread with some cheese along with a couple of grapes. 

Astarion couldn't help but think how cute they looked, cheeks puffing slightly from too big of a bite. They swallow it with a mouth full of wine, a droplet falling down their chin. He wants to catch it with his thumb.

"But seriously, isn't this time reserved for your midnight snack?"

"Typically, but you looked so tired, my dear." Astarion places his goblet to the side and scoots closer to Tav. "I wanted to help you relax, help you sleep. You are always doing so much for everyone."

He plucks a grape and leans in, guiding it to their wine-stained lips. Lowering his voice, he whispers deep and low, "Let me help you."

Tav instinctually opens their mouth, letting the fruit fall in between their lips; their tongue catches Astarion's thumb briefly before his hand retreats. He cups their jaw, and traces over Tav's cheekbone.

 Every time he gets a chance to look, really look at Tav. Astarion can't help being captivated by their beauty. The shine of their hair, the softness of their face alway so warm and inviting, their nose scrunching up anytime he teases. So gorgeous. 

Tav's doe eyes flick down from his eyes to his mouth. Their tongue peaks out gently swiping across their bottom lip. 

Who kisses who is irrelevant. Only the feeling of their smooth lips gliding against his, the shaky exhale of breath, Tav's warm hands curling around his neck, fingers carding into his hair. 

Tav pulls away to breathe, running their nose against his. Astarion can't remember the last time a kiss left him wanting more. And having Tav rush back into the kiss as desperate as he feels sent unfamiliar shivers down his spine.

Astarion's hand presses against the small of their back, pulling Tav close to his chest. The other falls on their thigh, gripping gently like a lifeline. Astarion sighs low in his chest and runs his tongue against the seam of Tav's lips. They tentatively part, and Astarion chases the taste of grapes and bread.

Hells, he wishes to stay in the moment- in the softness of this kiss, the closeness of their bodies. His chest felt light, and the warmth of Tav's body under his hands is something he never wants to stop feeling. It feels as if nothing more needs to happen if either party deems it so.

But that wasn't how this worked. No one ever wanted a simple kiss. Astarion was never the innocent kiss that had you blushing the whole walk home. He was the sinful whisper and dirty looks. The pleasure before the end. Never this.

So Astarion begins the routine he's done a thousand times before.

His mouth leaves Tav's lips, trailing hot, wet kisses down the column of their throat. Tav releases the softest whimper when he bites at the flesh of their shoulder. Their fingers tighten in his hair. He grunts.

Astarion no longer feels quite present; it is more like he is simply observing the scene as a third party. Just finish the task. 

His agile fingers snake up their waist, pulling their shirt from their pants and caressing the smooth skin underneath. Astarion begins to unbutton their top when Tav grabs his hand.

"Wait." They say out of breath.

Astarion focuses back in, eyes taking in the look of Tav's flushed face and kiss swollen lips. They look flustered, and he's suddenly confused about why they stopped him.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was…" They trail off, looking away then back again. "Could… we not do this tonight?"

That wasn't what he thought they’d say and it has Astarion momentarily at a loss for words. What does he do now? Tav's looking at him, and he's still frozen. No one has asked him not to have sex before.

"Yes, of course. Would you like me to pack this food and escort you back to your tent?" He sounds robotic to his ears and cringes. 

"No."

Astarion's brow furrows. Do they want his tent? Okay, he can work with this. Let them have his tent for the night; he'll be fine. And it's a nice thing to do since they don't want sex. He can still win favor. Right?

"That will not be a problem, my dear. I was going to be out late hunting anyway- probably until morning. You're welcome to sleep here. Rest well."

Astarion moves to leave- flee more like when Tav grabs his wrist.

"Wait," Their voice is so tiny.

Astarion turns back to Tav. They won't meet his eyes and are playing with his fingers again. Is this something people do? Or just Tav?

"Would you hold me?" A subtle blush began to bloom across their cheeks.

"I can't sleep; I keep having nightmares. I keep waking up trapped in my body." Tav released his hand to hug themselves. "I just don't want to sleep alone again."

Tav. Fearless, reckless, heroic Tav. Who killed more goblins and helped more people than any hero he could think of. To see them look so small, so vulnerable. And ask him. Him. To hold them, protect them from the monsters that torment their sleep. 

His mind is ricocheting around. Who was this person before him? So kind, so beautiful, so trusting of him, who deserves none of it.

Astarion has been quiet for too long. He knows this when he sees hope drain from Tav's wide eyes. They are looking for a way to leave.

"Okay," Astarion croaks, nodding before clearing his throat and repeating the word more confidently.

Tav beams at him. "Okay."

They stay rooted in place, awkwardly staring at each other. Tav bites their lip, tugging it between their teeth. Astarion feels like he's been plunged into the deep end. Every physical encounter he's partaken in was sexual and one he quickly left feeling used and disgusted.

This was new territory; did Tav want him to initiate? How did he initiate this without sex?

Astarion looks down when he feels a tug at his arm. "Um, would it be okay if we laid down?"

Astarion nods rigidly, his tongue cemented in his mouth. He moves to his bedroll and lays back. Astarion's body felt like a wood plank, he couldn't seem to relax. Tav sees this of course, because they seem to alway notice him. 

Everything Astarion wished to keep buried, all his dirty secrets, he kept behind the facade he perfected over the centuries. Tav seemed to see through everything. Read him in a way no other had.

"Astarion," he looks up, Tav's kneeling beside him, eyes full of concern. "If you're uncomfortable, I can-"

Astarion snaps back to himself. He shakes his head and props himself up on his elbow. A flirtatious smirk automatically stretches his lips.

"Me? Uncomfortable? Pfft, Darling, to have you pressed against me all night," Astarion reaches out to pull Tav's arm hard enough to have them stumble onto his chest with a small yelp. 

His voice drops to a husky whisper. "I don't think there's anything I'd like more."

Astarion chuckles at how reactive Tav always is to him. Their hands are splayed against his chest, face inches from his. 

They open their mouths to speak, but Astarion cuts them off with a kiss long enough to leave Tav chasing him for another.

"Though I will admit, having you so close, it's going to be very difficult to keep my hands to myself."

"I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself. I want you to hold me." Tav speaks plainly as they adjust til they are pressed against his side.

Their head is in the space between his collar and jaw. Astarion takes a deep breath. The smell of pine, rosewater, and something distinctly Tav hits his nose. The scent alone acts like a cool drink of water during a searing summer day, calming his anxiety. 

Tav grips the front of his shirt loosely and tangles their legs with his. Astarion was initially unsure what to do with his hands, hovering them slightly over the contours of Tav's body. But he adjusts quickly enough, and pulls them tighter against his chest, chasing the addictive warmth of their body.

This was strange, unfamiliar, but…nice. Tav's nose brushed against his neck, and the heat of their mumbled words fans over his skin. Astarion hums in question.

"Thank you," Tav repeats, yawning, their words slightly slurs from exhaustion. "You make me feel safe."

Tav was trying to break the record for how many times they could shock Astarion in one day. But before he could come up with a charming retort, their breath had already evened out. Tav fell into the world of dreams, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Astarion didn't trance that night, just staring up at the roof of his tent, listening to the soft breaths and steady heartbeat, rubbing absentminded patterns to the planes of Tav's back. 

Why couldn't he have found them when he was still so hopeful? Less broken. Because he think he might have been able to make it through just about anything with Tav by his side.

Tav, whose eyes find him first. Who makes sure he's fed and comfortable and okay with the plan even though he could give two shits about the poor fools that need saving. 

Who asks to be held at night when the dreams are too dark to handle alone, and they trust Astarion of all people to keep them safe? Where was Tav when he needed and pleaded for someone to care for and protect him from the cruelty of this realm?

Gods, he thinks he loves Tav. The thought turns his stomach to lead, but he stops and takes a deep breath. That is something he will have to think about tomorrow. 

All Astarion wanted to think about right then was the person in his arms. He kisses the top of Tav's head and closes his eyes. Astarion doesn't believe he's ever felt more at ease.

I really enjoyed writing this, so please let know what you thought. Astarion discovering his feelings for Tav past his survival instinct is a personal favorite type of fic for me, so I want to write one of my own.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive

Want to be added? DM me please!

[madschiavelique]

Hello, I don't have any idea for younger inexperienced halsin, but I have something that might interest you.

Imagine this, experienced Halsin x Inexperienced tav. But tav is so innocent, wants to do so well, but halsin has to control himself. Thus, halsin is the one being unknowingly (for tav) teased and flustered as he has to control himself, and not to frighten tav.

That's it. Flustered halsin.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : halsin x inexperienced!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : explicit, smut, more of a ramble than a specific scenario, feels more like headcanons even, fem!reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 585

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ author's note : omg anon yES!!! sorry it took me so long but arcane is back on my mind and i just had to get down to writing for viktor bbg

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

Halsin had had many adventures over the centuries. He had experimented with a variety of ages, no doubt travelled the length and breadth of positions that could be taken, and tasted the pleasures of many different races.

And yet, despite all that, it was as if you had shaken every one of his foundations.

You never ceased to surprise him, you were so clinging to this idea of wanting to do the right thing that you were nervous at the drop of a hat. Halsin had reassured you extensively that he would never, ever do anything you didn't want him to do.

But you were curious, and he was pretty sure on Silvanus himself that your cuteness would be his undoing.

You were shy in the kisses you offered him without his having initiated them, watching him with gentle eyes as your gaze drifted to his lips and he had to do everything in his power not to tear every layer of clothing covering you.

There was an innocence and hesitation in the way you took his hand, touched him, said his name that drove him crazy.

The other night, when you were all gathered around the campfire, chatting about everything and nothing as usual at the end of the day, you were sitting on his lap. You laughed and listened to Gale's story that Astarion kept interjecting. You whispered in Halsin's ear a remark about the story that you didn't dare say out loud, and the simple sensation of your breath and your voice so low and close to his ear was enough to make him almost lose his composure.

And when you slept together when the nights were too cold and you embraced him during your pre-sleep chats, your fingers tracing affectionate caresses down his back, Halsin wondered if you were aware of the effects that your touch on that specific area was likely to cause. Then, when you finally fell asleep and he wrapped his arms around you like the big spoon that he was, you couldn't help moving your hips closer to his to get some of his warmth.

You had no idea of the effect you were having on him with your every move.

The first time you finally got down to business, you kept asking him questions, inevitably asking again and again: "Does that feel good?"

And Halsin had to restrain himself every time, answering as calmly as possible, "I don't think there is any way for me not to feel good with you right now, my heart."

But he remained patient, knowing that the more time passed, the more comfortable you would become, and therefore the more adventurous.

When you asked Halsin to teach you how to jerk him off and give him a blow job, he nearly turned into a bear. You asked lots of questions, testing the waters, touching him a little hesitantly, asking "Does that feel good? Can I touch you there?" so gently that he almost came right then and there.

He tried to contain himself, to stop himself from rutting without waiting as soon as he was inside you, your gummy walls so tight around his girth. He tried to contain himself when he saw you marked by his lips and teeth. He tried to contain himself when you said his name over and over in a voice laced with moans.

Holding on was almost impossible, but he was patient, he knew you would venture further. By Silvanus, was he eager for it.

[moonselune]

Hello! Hope all is well with you! I've been enjoying the sillier prompts lately and have been wondering for a while now about the companions' reactions to a wild-magic sorcerer Tav accidentally turning themselves into a potted plant, as can happen in actual dnd. This might be in combat, out of combat, or when no one's around to see until they realize Tav is missing and there's a new, Tav-sized plant at camp. Thanks for considering!

Ahahahaha I didn't know this because fun fact I have never played as a wild-magic sorcerer, the more you know

Karlach:

The chaos of battle still hung thick in the air: the acrid tang of ozone from lightning spells, the metallic bite of blood, and the charred aroma of scorched earth. Karlach stood amidst the wreckage, her infernal engine humming faintly as the adrenaline of combat began to ebb. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned to look for you, her fiery grin ready to celebrate another victory with her partner.

Only, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Babe?” she called, her voice carrying over the clatter of armor and groans of the fallen. She scanned the battlefield, her sharp eyes darting between the bodies of your enemies. Her smile faltered. “Where the hells are you?”

It wasn’t like you to wander off mid-battle, even with the unpredictable nature of your wild magic. A sinking feeling settled in her gut, and she began to search, calling your name louder now.

Her gaze finally fell on a peculiar sight near the edge of the clearing—a potted plant. It was vibrant and oddly you-sized, perched precariously on the remnants of a crumbled wall. Karlach’s brows furrowed, her hands on her hips as she stared at it.

“What the…?” she muttered, stepping closer. There was something strangely familiar about the plant. Its broad leaves almost seemed to droop in a manner reminiscent of your slouch when you were feeling bashful, and the faint glow of magic that lingered around it screamed wild surge.

Her eyes widened as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. “No way. No way.”

Dropping to a crouch in front of the plant, she inspected it closer.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whispered, reaching out to touch one of the leaves gently. It was warm, and she swore she could feel your presence within it. “Babe, is that you?”

The plant didn’t respond, of course, but Karlach groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she lamented, her voice muffled. “You go and turn yourself into a bloody plant? In the middle of a fight?”

She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the rest of the group was still occupied. No one had noticed your absence yet, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle the jokes from Astarion or the endless concern from Gale right now. This was between you and her, dammit.

Sighing, she scooped the pot into her arms, holding it like she would hold you.

“Alright, love,” she said, her tone softening despite herself. “Let’s get you back to camp and figure out how to fix this, yeah?”

The trek back was… awkward. Karlach tried to hold the pot steady while simultaneously glancing around to ensure no one saw her cradling a plant like it was her most prized possession. She muttered under her breath as she went, half scolding you and half laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“Of all the things you could’ve turned into,” she grumbled. “Why not something cool, like a dragon? Or even a chair! I could’ve used you for a rest at least.” She looked down at the plant with a rueful grin. “But no, you had to go and be adorable even as a damn fern.”

By the time she reached camp, the rest of the party had begun to notice your absence. Shadowheart raised a questioning eyebrow as Karlach marched straight to your tent, the plant held tightly in her arms.

“Where’s—” Shadowheart began, but Karlach cut her off with a gruff, “Don’t ask,” before disappearing inside.

Once safely tucked away in the privacy of your shared space, Karlach set the pot down gently and sat cross-legged in front of it.

“Okay, love,” she said, her tone serious now. “I’m not exactly a magic expert, so I’m guessing this’ll wear off on its own, yeah? Just, uh… shake a leaf or something if I’m right.”

Nothing happened. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Figures. You’d turn yourself into something that can’t talk back.” She reached out to stroke one of your leaves again, her touch tender. “I just hope you’re okay in there. You’re not, like, panicking, are you? ‘Cause I’m here, alright? I’ve got you.”

The hours ticked by, and Karlach stayed by your side, talking to you about everything and nothing. She recounted old stories of her time in Avernus, described the way the campfire crackled just outside, and even hummed a few bars of a tune you loved. She refused to leave, determined to be there the moment you returned to your usual self.

When the magic finally dissipated, it was abrupt. One moment, she was staring at the plant, and the next, you were sitting on the floor in front of her, looking disoriented but otherwise unharmed. Karlach blinked, then burst into relieved laughter.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you in a rib-crushing hug before you could even fully process what had happened. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear?”

You groaned, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “Wasn’t exactly intentional,” you muttered, but the warmth in her embrace made it hard to feel anything but gratitude.

Karlach pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her grin brighter than the campfire.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice teasing but her eyes soft. “Even if you do have a habit of turning into houseplants.”

You chuckled weakly, leaning into her touch. “I’ll try to aim for something cooler next time.”

“Damn right, you will,” Karlach said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But for now, you’re staying right here. No more wild magic shenanigans until I’m convinced you won’t turn into a cactus or something.”

Minthara:

The camp was eerily quiet when Minthara returned from scouting the perimeter, her steps as measured and deliberate as ever. She had left you behind, trusting that whatever magical experiment had your attention at the moment was at least minimally controlled. You had assured her you would remain safe.

But as she entered the camp, her sharp eyes immediately swept the area—and you were nowhere to be found. A frown tugged at her lips, irritation brimming beneath her calm exterior.

“My love?” she called out, her voice low but commanding. There was no reply, only the faint rustling of wind through the trees.

Something was wrong.

Minthara’s grip on her weapon tightened instinctively as she strode toward your usual spot near the campfire. Her keen senses caught the faint trace of magic lingering in the air—chaotic, unpredictable magic. It clung to the clearing like a haze, setting her teeth on edge.

And then she saw it.

A potted plant, sitting innocently in the middle of camp. It was a strikingly odd sight—vibrant, lush, and entirely out of place. Minthara’s frown deepened as she approached, her eyes narrowing. Something about it felt… familiar. She knelt beside it, her fingers brushing one of the broad, leafy fronds.

Her instincts screamed at her, the strange magic and the peculiar timing sparking a suspicion she couldn’t shake.

"No," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance. "Surely not."

She circled the pot, scrutinizing it from every angle, her sharp mind piecing together what must have happened. The chaotic magic. Your absence. The plant’s unnerving resemblance to your height, even its oddly charming tilt to one side.

“By the Underdark” she growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve turned yourself into a gods-damned plant.”

Minthara rose to her full height, her expression a mixture of exasperation and begrudging amusement. She paced back and forth for a moment, muttering to herself in clipped Drow. This wasn’t her first encounter with wild magic’s unpredictability, but seeing you reduced to foliage tested even her patience.

Finally, she stopped, crossing her arms as she glared down at the plant.

“You’d best hope this is reversible,” she said, her tone sharp but carrying a strange undercurrent of affection. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to carry you into battle as a decorative shrub.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

Minthara sighed deeply, a rare crack in her stoic demeanor. She crouched down again, this time with a softer touch, her fingers trailing over the edge of the pot.

“You do realize how much you worry me?” she murmured, her voice quiet now. “Vanishing without warning, leaving me to find… this.” Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you, even when you’re at your most absurd.”

She lingered there for a moment, her crimson eyes studying the plant as though willing you to transform back through sheer force of will. Her mind raced with possible solutions—waiting for the magic to dissipate, seeking assistance from one of the more magically inclined companions, or even attempting to force the issue with a spell of her own. But none of those options sat well with her; the thought of leaving you in this state for even a moment longer than necessary gnawed at her resolve.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the chaotic magic finally began to wane. A sudden burst of energy rippled through the air, and in an instant, the plant vanished—replaced by you, sitting awkwardly on the ground with wide eyes and a dazed expression.

“Minthara?” you said weakly, blinking up at her.

Her expression was unreadable as she loomed over you, her arms crossed once more. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the weight of her presence—and her silence—sink in. Then, with a sharp exhale, she extended a hand to help you up.

“You are a constant test of my patience,” she said, her tone icy but her touch firm and steady as she pulled you to your feet. “And yet, I cannot seem to stay angry with you.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry about that,” you said, glancing at the now-empty spot where the plant had been. “Didn’t mean to… you know. Turn into a houseplant.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but allowed a small smirk to break through her stern façade.

“I suppose it’s a testament to your unique charm,” she said dryly. “Only you could find a way to make even wild magic this ridiculous.”

Her hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze softening as she studied you.

“Do try not to disappear on me again,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to having you by my side… in a form that can actually hold a weapon.”

You chuckled, the sound warm and full of relief. “I’ll do my best.”

Minthara shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself. “See that you do. Now, come. You owe me a drink to make up for this nonsense.”

She turned sharply, striding toward the campfire with her usual commanding grace. But as you followed, you caught the faintest trace of a smile lingering on her lip.

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, her chest heaving as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. The final enemy had fallen beneath her blade, and the battlefield was silent save for the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. She turned sharply, her yellow eyes scanning the clearing for you, her battle partner and—more recently—her lover.

“Y/N” she barked, her voice firm as always, tinged with the expectation of a swift response. When none came, her brow furrowed. She swept her gaze over the terrain, spotting the bodies of your foes… but no sign of you.

Her grip on her blade tightened as unease prickled at the edges of her thoughts.

“Where are you?” she muttered, you had a habit of getting into trouble, especially with the erratic nature of your magic. This silence was unsettling.

It was then that her gaze landed on something odd—a potted plant, sitting upright amidst the debris and gore of battle. It was an odd sight, pristine and bright green in stark contrast to the carnage around it. Lae’zel’s frown deepened as she stalked over to it, her boots crunching on the ground. Something about the plant felt… familiar.

She stopped before it, staring down at its leaves. It was unusually large, roughly your height if she imagined it upright. The pot itself bore faint traces of magic that made her lip curl in suspicion.

“Ridiculous,” she growled. And yet, the chaotic nature of your magic whispered a possibility in her mind—a possibility so absurd she dismissed it outright. At first.

Then, she leaned down and poked the plant with her gauntleted finger.

The moment her finger brushed a leaf, a faint magical hum radiated from it, and Lae’zel’s eyes widened. Her sharp mind pieced together the evidence: your absence, the lingering magic, and the absurdity of a random plant appearing on a battlefield. She drew back with a look that was half exasperation, half incredulous disbelief.

“You have done this to yourself, haven’t you?” she demanded, glaring at the plant as though it could answer her. “Wild magic,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You reckless fool.”

She straightened, planting her hands on her hips, her blade still dripping with the blood of her enemies. For a moment, she considered leaving you as you were, just long enough to impress upon you the consequences of your chaos. But the thought was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the frustration that you were not by her side in a form she could lecture properly.

Lae’zel crouched again, this time with a softer expression, though she still scowled.

“If you can hear me, you will fix this yourself,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of hauling a houseplant back to camp.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Ugh.” Lae’zel threw her head back, muttering something sharp and guttural in Gith, likely a curse aimed at the unpredictability of magic. Despite her frustration, she carefully scooped the pot into her arms, grumbling under her breath as she did so. The weight was awkward but manageable.

She began the trek back to camp, her movements brisk and efficient despite the absurd cargo in her arms. Along the way, she muttered a constant stream of words, alternating between irritation and reluctant concern.

“You are fortunate I value you, even when you test my patience,” she said, glancing down at the plant. “Were you anyone else, I would leave you here to rot.”

When she reached camp, the sight of Lae’zel carrying a potted plant drew immediate attention. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Astarion stifled a laugh, and Gale opened his mouth to ask a question—only to receive a sharp glare that silenced him on the spot.

“Not a word,” Lae’zel snapped, setting the plant down beside the fire with a little more force than necessary. She pointed a finger at the pot as if addressing you directly. “You will undo this foolishness. Now.”

By sheer coincidence, the chaotic magic finally dissipated, a sudden burst of energy shook the camp, and you appeared where the plant had been—sitting awkwardly on the ground, blinking in confusion.

“Lae’zel?” you said, your voice tentative. She towered over you, arms crossed and glaring fiercely.

“You turned yourself into a plant,” she stated, her tone flat but laced with unmistakable annoyance.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I did.”

Lae’zel stared at you for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning, she grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet.

“You are an utter fool,” she said, her voice harsh, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. “And you will explain how this happened—after you swear to me it will not happen again.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her intensity, even as you stammered out an apology.

“I’ll try,” you said, earning an unimpressed snort from her.

“‘Try’ is insufficient,” she snapped, but there was no real heat in her words. She studied you for a moment longer before pulling you into a surprisingly firm embrace, her grip strong but steady. “Do not make me worry for you again.”

The rare softness in her voice made your heart swell, and you nodded against her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Shadowheart:

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the camp in a soft, dusky glow. Shadowheart returned from gathering water at the nearby stream, her steps light but deliberate as she moved toward the campfire. Dinner was her next priority, and after that, a quiet evening spent in your company. Or so she thought.

As she reached the camp, a strange sight stopped her in her tracks. Sitting near the fire, where she expected to find you lounging or reading, was… a potted plant.

Shadowheart blinked, her brow furrowing. The pot was large, almost comically so, and the plant itself had an odd, almost lively vibrance to it. Its fronds swayed gently in the evening breeze, and its size was distinctly you-shaped.

She set the water down and took a few tentative steps closer, her dark eyes narrowing as she examined the plant. Her fingers brushed one of the leaves, and a faint shimmer of magic danced across its surface. Recognition hit her like a gale-force wind, and she straightened up abruptly, staring at the plant in stunned silence.

And then she started laughing.

The sound was soft at first, a quiet chuckle bubbling up from her chest. But it quickly grew louder, filling the camp as she doubled over, one hand braced on her knee and the other clutching her stomach.

“Oh, gods,” she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “You’ve done it now, haven’t you?”

She staggered back a step, trying to compose herself, but the sight of the potted plant sitting innocently near the fire broke her resolve. She collapsed onto a nearby log, her laughter ringing through the clearing.

“You—you turned yourself into a plant!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with mirth. “How? Why? What—what were you even doing?”

The plant, of course, did not respond. Its fronds merely swayed as if in agreement, which only made Shadowheart laugh harder. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she leaned forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she managed to say between gasps. “I didn’t think wild magic could be this ridiculous.”

For several minutes, she simply sat there, caught in a loop of laughter and attempts to calm herself. Every time she thought she had control, she’d glance at the plant again, and another wave of giggles would take her.

Eventually, she wiped her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered to herself, still grinning. “I suppose I should figure out how to fix this before someone else sees you like this.”

But instead of moving immediately to find a solution, she reached out and gently patted the pot, her touch oddly tender.

“You’re lucky I find you endearing,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “Even when you’re… this.”

She sat there for a while longer, her smile lingering as she studied the plant. The absurdity of the situation didn’t erase her fondness; if anything, it deepened it. You were chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly unique, and somehow, she adored every bit of it.

When the magic finally began to fade, the plant shimmered and morphed, and in a flash of light, you were sitting on the ground, blinking up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Uh… hey,” you said awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Miss me?”

Shadowheart burst out laughing again, leaning back on the log as she shook her head.

“Oh, my love,” she said, her voice full of amusement and exasperation. “You never fail to surprise me.”

She stood and offered you her hand, pulling you to your feet with a smirk. “I’ll admit, I was tempted to leave you like that for a while longer. You made a rather charming plant.”

You groaned, your face heating. “Please don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with mock sincerity, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. “But you might owe me a favor or two to ensure my silence.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she leaned in closer, her expression softening. “Just promise me you’ll try not to turn yourself into anything else for a while,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. “I’d rather have you by my side.”

You nodded, and Shadowheart’s smirk widened as she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good. Now, let’s get some dinner before you accidentally polymorph into a roast chicken or something.”

With a laugh, she led you toward the fire, her hand slipping into yours. Even as the evening went on, she couldn’t help but glance at you now and then, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the absurdity of the situation.

Jaheira:

Jaheira had seen many strange and inexplicable things in her long life. She had battled liches, shaped the natural world, and lived through countless adventures that would leave lesser individuals trembling. But when she returned to camp after a morning spent tending to her druidic rituals, she did not expect to find a potted plant sitting conspicuously near the fire, in precisely the spot you usually occupied.

She froze, her keen eyes narrowing as she took in the odd sight. The plant was unusually large and vibrant, its leaves swaying gently despite the still air. Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line as a nagging suspicion bloomed in the back of her mind.

“Beloved?” she called out sharply, her gaze darting around the camp for any sign of you. The woods were silent save for the rustle of leaves, and there was no reply. Her frown deepened as she crouched beside the plant, reaching out to touch one of its leaves. The faint shimmer of residual magic confirmed her worst fear.

“By the gods…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Of course.”

Jaheira sank onto a nearby log, her expression shifting from incredulity to sheer exasperation.

“I leave you alone for one morning,” she said aloud, as if addressing the plant. “One morning, and this is what you manage to accomplish?”

The plant offered no response, its fronds swaying innocently. Jaheira leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she regarded it with a mix of frustration and reluctant fondness.

“Wild magic,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “I warned you, did I not? I told you to focus, to keep your chaos in check. But no, of course not. That would be too simple.”

She let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“What am I to do with you?” she muttered, shaking her head. “I cannot even lecture you properly in this state.”

Her gaze softened slightly as she studied the plant, her exasperation giving way to quiet concern. Despite her irritation, there was a tenderness in her expression—a deep-seated care that she could never fully mask.

“You are lucky I care for you, you ridiculous creature,” she said softly. “Otherwise, I might have left you here to contemplate your folly for a few days.”

Jaheira stood and began pacing, her sharp mind already working through possible solutions. She muttered to herself as she moved, alternating between frustration and practicality.

“Undoing wild magic,” she said, glancing at the plant. “An unpredictable mess, as always. I ought to leave you for Gale to sort out—he would likely enjoy the challenge. But no, no. This is our problem.”

She stopped pacing and returned to the plant, placing her hands on her hips. “If you can hear me, beloved, know this: when you return to your proper form, you will owe me twice over. For this, and for the worry you’ve caused.”

As if in response, the plant shimmered faintly, and Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps there is still some sense left in you.”

Moments later, the magic dissipated with a faint burst of energy, and you were suddenly sitting on the ground, dazed but otherwise unharmed. You looked up at Jaheira, blinking in confusion as you tried to process what had happened.

“Jaheira?” you said tentatively, your voice hesitant. “What—”

She held up a hand to silence you, her expression equal parts stern and amused.

“Do not speak,” she said firmly. “Not yet. First, you will listen.”

You nodded quickly, sensing the gravity of her tone. Jaheira crouched beside you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“You will explain to me, in great detail, what foolishness led to this,” she said. “And you will swear to me that you will exercise more caution in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my beloved,” you said meekly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She studied you for a long moment, her gaze softening as she saw the genuine contrition in your expression. With a small sigh, she reached out and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You are fortunate I adore you” she said quietly, her tone laced with affection despite her stern words. “But you test my patience, beloved. Try not to make a habit of it.”

“I promise to try and not do it more than usual,” you promised with a cheeky smile, earning a faint smile from her.

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, rising to her feet and offering you her hand. “Now, come. There is work to be done, and I will not allow you to shirk your duties just because you decided to play at being a houseplant.”

You laughed softly, taking her hand and letting her pull you to your feet. As you walked together toward the campfire, Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“A potted plant,” she muttered. “What will you manage next, I wonder? A flock of chickens? A living puddle?”

Despite her exasperation, there was a warmth in her voice that made your heart swell. You knew you were lucky to have her by your side—someone who could scold you one moment and hold you close the next.

Gale:

The sun had dipped low, casting the camp in soft, golden hues as Gale returned from a short stroll. He was humming a soft melody under his breath, a habit when he felt particularly at ease. However, his contentment was short-lived.

As he reached the campfire, he froze. His gaze fell on a peculiar sight: a massive, lush potted plant sitting exactly where you would typically be, its leaves trembling faintly as if caught in an unseen breeze. Gale’s sharp mind immediately pieced together the absurd possibility.

He stepped closer, squinting at the plant.

“My love?” he called tentatively, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

The plant, predictably, gave no reply. Gale knelt down, his hands hovering over the vibrant leaves as his brow furrowed.

“No. Surely not…” He reached out, his fingers brushing the leaves. A faint magical hum tickled his fingertips, confirming his suspicions. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Wild magic… unpredictable as ever. Now what are you today? A ficus?” He tilted his head, examining the pot. “No, perhaps a monstera. Lovely choice, truly.”

His amusement was short-lived, replaced by determination as he straightened his back.

“No matter,” he said firmly. “We’ll have you back to yourself in no time. After all, what is a little magical mishap to someone like me?”

He moved swiftly, summoning his arcane focus. Arcane energy swirled around his fingers as he murmured incantations, his tone confident. A brilliant light enveloped the plant, the air around it crackling with energy. But as quickly as it had begun, the magic dissipated, leaving the plant unchanged.

Gale frowned, his brow furrowing deeper.

“That should have worked.” He muttered another incantation, this one more complex. Again, the air shimmered, and again, nothing happened.

Minutes turned into an hour as Gale tried every spell and counterspell he could think of. Each attempt left him more frustrated, his usually calm demeanor cracking. By the end, he was slumped on the ground beside the plant, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazed at it with a mix of exhaustion and defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I thought I could undo this easily, but… I’ve failed you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the rim of the pot. “You must be frightened, or bored, or both. And here I am, a so-called wizard of no small renown, completely stumped.”

As if in response to his heartfelt apology, a faint shimmer enveloped the plant. Gale sat up straight, his eyes wide as the glow grew brighter. With a soft poof, the plant vanished, and there you were, sitting cross-legged on the ground, blinking up at him.

“Gale?” you said groggily, your voice laced with confusion. “What… happened?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You just… changed back?” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “Just like that?”

You nodded, stretching your arms. “Guess it wore off.”

For a moment, Gale was silent, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. Then he laughed again, the sound warm and rich as he reached out to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Oh, darling” he murmured against your hair. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Sorry for the trouble.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he studied you intently.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, his gaze filled with affection. “Just promise me one thing: if you ever feel another surge of wild magic coming on, give me fair warning. I’d like to prepare for the possibility of, say, you turning into a boulder next time.”

You laughed, and he smiled, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Come,” he said, rising and offering you his hand. “Let’s have some tea. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll manage to go an entire evening without my lover surprising me with botanical transformations.”

His teasing tone made you grin as you took his hand, and together, you walked back to the campfire, the chaos of the day fading into a memory you’d both cherish.

Astarion:

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows over the camp as Astarion strolled back from his usual evening preparations. His step was light, his crimson eyes bright with their usual mischievous glint, but his mood faltered when he reached the center of camp. You were nowhere to be seen.

He tilted his head, scanning the area.

“Darling?” he called, his voice lilting with curiosity. “Where are you? Surely you haven’t wandered off. I thought we agreed that you’d stay within earshot.”

Silence greeted him, save for the distant rustling of the trees. His lips pressed into a thin line as irritation bubbled to the surface. But just as he was about to set off in search of you, his eyes fell on something strange near the fire—a large potted plant. A frown tugged at his features as he approached, his sharp eyes narrowing.

The plant was tall, lush, and vibrant, and its size was suspiciously… familiar. Astarion crouched beside it, reaching out to touch a leaf. His fingers brushed the frond, and a faint hum of chaotic magic tickled his senses. He froze, realization dawning as his mouth fell open.

“No,” he said flatly, staring at the plant as if it had personally insulted him. “You didn’t.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Oh, for the love of—” Astarion cut himself off, straightening with a sharp sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “This is why I can’t leave you alone for five minutes. I go to sharpen my daggers, and you decide to… become a houseplant.”

He paced around the plant, muttering dramatically to himself. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Hauling around my lover in botanic form. I must admit, this is a new low, even for us.”

Despite his exasperation, there was a thread of affection woven through his words. After all, this was you—his beloved, his partner in chaos. And as much as he wanted to leave you here to stew in your own magic, the thought of someone stumbling upon you while you were vulnerable gnawed at him.

“Well,” he said, planting his hands on his hips, “if you think I’m leaving you here to be stolen by some overly enthusiastic druid or trampled by a stray owlbear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He crouched again, wrapping his arms around the pot.

“You’re heavier than you look, you know,” he grumbled as he hefted it into his arms. He staggered slightly under the weight before finding his balance, his fangs flashing in a sarcastic grin. “Oh, darling, you’re lucky I adore you.”

Thus began one of the most absurd nights of Astarion’s life. With you—now a potted plant—tucked securely in his arms, he set off toward the group’s meeting point, his gait steady but laced with a dramatic air of martyrdom.

“This is humiliating, you know,” he said, glancing down at the plant. “If anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down. ‘Oh, there goes Astarion,’ they’ll say, ‘dragging his decorative lover into battle.’”

When he reached the rest of the group, their reactions were predictably varied. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Gale rubbed his temples, and Karlach burst into loud, raucous laughter.

“What in the Hells happened to Tav?” Karlach asked between laughs, clutching her sides.

“They happened to themselves,” Astarion replied dryly, shifting the pot in his arms. “Wild magic. Again.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Karlach wheezed. “You carrying them around like that!”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” Astarion said with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t think I’m letting them out of my sight. If they’re going to make a habit of turning into houseplants, they’ll do it under my watch lest they get molested by the local wildlife.”

Despite his snark, Astarion was true to his word. He carried you everywhere that night—through camp, during patrols, and even to his tent when he finally settled down to rest. He set the pot down beside him, adjusting it with care before sprawling out on his bedroll.

“Well, my love,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there. You’re certainly causing me enough trouble.”

He leaned back, his crimson eyes softening as they rested on the plant. “But, as irritating as this is, I suppose it’s… endearing, in its own ridiculous way. Only you could find a way to make this charming.”

As if on cue, a faint shimmer of magic enveloped the plant. Astarion sat up, his eyes narrowing as the light grew brighter. Then, with a soft poof, the plant was gone, and there you were, sitting on the ground, disoriented but whole.

“Astarion?” you murmured, blinking up at him.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic groan, he flopped back onto his bedroll.

“You absolute menace,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

You chuckled, crawling over to sit beside him. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes glinting. “As if I’d ever let anything happen to you,” he said softly. “Though next time, darling, do try to keep yourself… human-shaped. For my sanity, if nothing else.”

You laughed, and he sighed, reaching out to pull you close.

“Come here, you absurd, wonderful disaster,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I suppose I’ll just have to love you as you are—potted plants and all.”

Wyll:

The inn was a cozy, bustling place, alive with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation. Wyll, ever the gentleman, had rented a room for the two of you after a long day’s travel. He’d left you in the corner of the common room momentarily, promising to return after he spoke with the innkeeper.

When he came back, you were gone.

His brows furrowed, his gaze darting around the room.

“My love?” he called softly, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear if you were nearby. “Where have you gotten off to?”

No response. His eyes scanned the crowd, then the quieter corners of the room. There, near the hearth, was a potted plant—a lush, green monstera—placed exactly where he had left you. He could have sworn there was only one monestera by the heart but now it seemed to have a friend. He paused, staring at the new plant with suspicion.

It couldn’t be, could it? He took a cautious step closer, noting the faint hum of magic still lingering in the air. His heart sank, and he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“Wild magic,” he muttered, crouching down to inspect the plant. “Of course. You’ve turned yourself into a… rather fetching monstera, I’ll give you that.”

Wyll ran a hand through his hair, glancing around to ensure no one else was watching him talk to a houseplant. He leaned in closer, his expression softening as he whispered, “Love, if that’s really you, don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”

Scooping the plant into his arms, he carried it upstairs to the room. It was awkward—pottery wasn’t exactly easy to cradle—but Wyll managed, setting the plant down gently on the small table by the window.

“There,” he said, brushing a few flecks of dirt from his gloves. “Safe and sound.”

For the next few hours, Wyll did his best to care for you—or what he thought was you. He watered the plant carefully, ensuring the soil was just moist enough, and even adjusted its position so it could catch the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He pulled up a chair, resting his chin in his hand as he spoke softly.

“I know this must be frustrating,” he said, his deep voice filled with sympathy. “Being stuck like this. But you’ll be back to your old self in no time, I promise.”

He leaned back, arms crossed as he continued his one-sided conversation. “You know, I always did think you had a natural beauty about you—though I must admit, I never imagined it quite so literally.” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound warm and gentle.

Downstairs, however, the real you—still in potted plant form—sat abandoned near the hearth. A kind innkeeper had noticed you and moved you closer to the bar, thinking you were just a decorative piece. It wasn’t until Karlach wandered into the inn later that evening that someone finally noticed.

Karlach, who had been looking for both you and Wyll, stopped in her tracks when she spotted the plant. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Wait a second,” she muttered, crouching down. Her hand brushed a leaf, and the faint hum of magic confirmed her suspicions. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Grinning, she scooped up the plant with ease and made her way upstairs, throwing open the door to Wyll’s room.

“Oi, Blade of Frontiers!” she called, her voice ringing with amusement. “Care to explain why you’ve been sweet-talking a normal plant while the real Y/N was stuck downstairs?”

Wyll, who had been mid-sentence in his heartfelt monologue to the decoy plant, froze. His eyes darted between the monstera in Karlach’s hands and the one sitting on the table. Realization dawned, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He must have mixed them up when he was thinking about the plants.

“Oh,” he said, standing abruptly. “Oh no.”

Karlach set the real you on the floor with a laugh. “You’ve been flirting with a houseplant, Wyll. I can’t decide if that’s adorable or just plain tragic.”

Wyll let out a groan, running a hand over his face. “I thought I was being attentive! Caring! I—I even watered it.”

“You watered it?” Karlach doubled over with laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, Y/N's gonna love this story.”

As if on cue, the magic around you shimmered, and with a soft poof, you were yourself again. You blinked, disoriented, as Wyll dropped to his knees beside you.

“My love!” he exclaimed, relief flooding his face. “You’re back. Thank the gods.”

You looked between him and the monstera on the table, piecing together what had happened. A slow smile spread across your face. “You were… talking to the wrong plant?”

Wyll groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Karlach was still laughing in the corner. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Despite his embarrassment, Wyll reached out to pull you into a tight hug, holding you close.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Even if I made a fool of myself.”

You smiled against his shoulder, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thanks for taking care of… well, something,” you teased gently. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression tender.

“Always,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Though next time, do me a favor and give me a hint, would you? I’d rather not make a habit of serenading the wrong foliage.”

Karlach let out a snort from the doorway, and the three of you dissolved into laughter.

Halsin:

The forest clearing was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Camp had been peaceful for once—no goblin raids, no cursed relics, just the calm embrace of nature. Halsin had stepped away to check the nearby stream for fish, leaving you to experiment with your magic. You’d promised to be careful.

You weren’t careful.

When Halsin returned, carrying a string of freshly caught trout, he immediately noticed something was off. The air around camp felt strange, the energy shifted. His sharp eyes scanned the area for you, but instead of your familiar figure, there was… a potted plant sitting in the middle of camp. A magnificent fern, its leaves vibrant and swaying slightly as if caught in an unseen wind.

He paused, brow furrowing.

“My heart?” he called cautiously, setting the fish down. When no answer came, his gaze settled on the fern. The faint shimmer of wild magic clinging to it made understanding dawn. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he muttered, walking over to crouch by the plant. “Wild magic has claimed you again, my heart.”

He gently brushed a large leaf with his fingertips, marveling at how alive it felt.

“You have excellent taste in flora,” he remarked, his tone warm with amusement. “A fern suits you. Strong, resilient… perhaps a bit mischievous.”

Settling beside the pot, Halsin crossed his legs and rested his elbow on one knee, chin in his hand.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to remind you of the importance of grounding yourself before experimenting with magic,” he mused, though his voice carried no trace of reproach. “Not that you’ll be able to argue with me right now.”

Despite his humor, Halsin’s instinct to care for you took over. He carefully examined the soil, testing its dampness with a practiced hand.

As the evening wore on, Halsin moved you to a sunnier spot, adjusting your position as the light shifted. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, as though you were still in your usual form.

“I’m reminded of a time in the grove,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “We had a druid who accidentally turned herself into a willow sapling. The children tied ribbons to her branches before anyone realized. She was furious—but she did make quite a beautiful tree.”

At one point, a squirrel approached, chittering curiously at the strange new plant in the camp. Halsin waved it off with a soft laugh. “Move along, friend. This one is spoken for.”

By the time dusk began to fall, he had arranged a small circle of stones around your pot, creating a makeshift shrine of sorts. It was a gesture born of care, a way to ensure you were safe and undisturbed.

As the stars began to twinkle above, the shimmer of magic around you intensified. Halsin, ever attuned to such things, noticed immediately. He knelt beside you, watching as the transformation took hold. With a soft poof, you returned to your usual self, sitting cross-legged where the pot had been moments before.

You blinked in disorientation, glancing around before meeting Halsin’s golden-brown eyes. He was smiling, warm and full of quiet amusement.

“Welcome back,” he said softly.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I turned into a plant again, didn’t I?”

Halsin chuckled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. “You did. A particularly lovely fern, if I may say so. I’ve spent the better part of the day tending to you.”

Your cheeks flushed as you noticed the circle of stones. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“How could I not? You’re my heart, no matter your form.” He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on your cheek. “Besides, it gave me an excuse to dote on you.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “I’ll try to keep the wild magic under control next time.”

“Do as you must,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “But know that if it happens again, I’ll be here. I’ll always care for you, no matter how many leaves you sprout.”

Managed to get this one out for you all, I am hoping to post a christmas BG3 imagine post thingy at some point, my life is just chaos rn. Thank you all for checking in on me, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Take it slow (Gale Dekarios x Reader)

synopsis: Gale and you share a tent for the night. The forced proximity is the perfect circumstance to explore each other more.

warnings: drinking, smut adjacent, reader is the first person to be with Gale after Mystra, heavy petting, dry humping, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to my darling @legitalicat for beta reading and also for listening to my honestly unhealthy Bg3 obsession. I love you💕

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The whole party sits around the campfire, drinking, celebrating another small victory. Spirits had been down lately, so this was more than needed and a night of light-heartedness feels only appropriate. You sit around in a big group until well into the night, when the first folks start retiring, leaving only a handful of people. Among them Gale, who after wishing everyone a good night, comes back to join you rather quickly. Garnering a few questioning looks.

“It seems like I am out of a tent for the night.” He explains his sudden return, one hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

You are about to ask what happened, when from the side Karlach loudly gives her own opinion.

“You should share a tent.” She laughs and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The suggestion garners a few drunken snickers around the group, but it also serves well to make your cheeks grow warm at the thought of sharing a space with the wizard for the night. Your nervous demeanour only furthers their giggles.

Gale however quickly lifts his hands in a defensive motion. “It´s quite alright. I don´t mind sleeping with- I mean sharing a tent with you. If you do not mind it either.”

His slip of tongue immediately produces more heat on both of your faces and gives the others a hard time not to burst out into roaring laughter.

“I do not mind it at all.” That secretly you had wished for this moment for a while now goes unsaid, though when he helps you to your feet your eyes linger on each other´s for just a second too long to still be platonic in nature.

Gale leads you away from the amused group by the hand and holds open the tent for you to enter before him.

Now alone with the wizard the tension in the rather confined space grows thick. The two of you lay stiff beside each other on the considerably too small bed roll, desperately trying to find something to say to lighten the mood somehow, to make each other more comfortable. Luckily for you, as you lay there so far away from the campfire, the cold seeps into your bones and makes both of you shiver.

“Would it be alright if I laid closer to you? Just to fight the cold a bit.” you ask in a croaky voice. Your fingertips drumming against the ground with excessive energy.

“Yes, yes naturally.” Gale replies fast, almost all but pulling you into his arms.

 Silence settles yet again as you lay your head on his chest, though it feels a bit less stiff than before. The scent of black tea, parchment paper enters your nostrils, accompanied by an undercurrent of sea salt and something citrusy to all mix for a scent that is so uniquely Gale. You can feel his chin rest against the crown of your head and instinctively bury your nose further into his chest. His hand runs up and down your arm with feather light touches, to warm you some more. The laughter from outside subsides to leave only the singing cicadas behind and the tension inside shifts to something much more than not being used to being so close so suddenly. Until you break under the weight of it.

Your lips tingle as they finally brush against his neck. Your heart is beating on your ears at how exciting it is, leaning in to repeat the motion over and over again. Sucking and nibbling at the skin ever so lightly. Gale’s skin warms up under your ministrations and his adam's apple bobs under a heavy gulp. Right as you pull away, he lets out a shaky breath. However, the two of you can't stay away for long, crashing your lips together. Hands grabbing at the other´s cheeks, necks and hips, anywhere they can reach for purchase. Your lips press together hesitantly at first, yet as they grow surer in what they are doing, stay slow, but crushingly passionate.

“Gods you’re such a good kisser.” You rasp against his lips. “I will never get enough of the way you taste.”

There is not a single trace of your initial bashfulness left as the kiss lingers longer and longer. Your hands wander over Gale´s arms to his chest, feeling his heartbeat drum against his chest to match the rhythm of your own. His fingers hook into your pants as your hands claw into the collar of his shirt pulling you into his lap and each other close until there is no air left between you. Nor is any breath in your lungs. The kiss is the only thing keeping the two of you alive in this moment. Savouring the sweet remnants of wine on his stained lips and the feel of their softness.

A guttural moan falls from his lungs, getting swallowed by you immediately. “Keep tasting me then.”

It's something he doesn't have to tell you twice. While you continue to breathe life into each other, you let your hands wander over the fabric separating each other’s bodies. Roaming the length of it repeatedly before they dip underneath. You gently drag your nails down his sides and back. Not enough to leave a sting but for a shiver to follow along with them. Ending with your hands running over the bulge between his thighs.

“Wait…” The wizard suddenly pulls away to stop you by laying his hands over yours.

You pull back as well at the sound of his voice, eyes fluttering open to gauge his reaction and the cause of the sudden stop.

The sight of his tousled hair, the shiny, swollen lips and the flushed skin. The heavily moving chest, in the dim light it's all so intoxicating.

“What is it?” You ask worriedly, taking hold of his hands and guide them to rest against your chest.

It takes a while for him to collect himself. “Yes, quite alright. I am not used to people touching me like this anymore. I…”

The frustration coming from him is palpable in his aura, but you on the other hand are filled with relief that he isn't shutting you out.

“We can take it slow. There is no harm in that.” You cup Gale's cheek in your hand and nudge his nose with yours.

A shaky sigh escapes his lungs in response to it. “I´m sorry. I must be so boring. You are probably used to more adventurous partners. You must think I don't want you now.”

“Hey, hey listen to me. There is no need to apologize. It is so exciting just to be with you. It is true I want you so much, but more than that I want you to be comfortable. So, if you do not feel ready to go all the way just yet, l am fine with that.“ While you coo at him reassuringly, eyes set on his, your fingers run through his beard.

He leans into your touch, practically purring at the soothing motion. He can´t help but nuzzle further into your palm. “Do you truly mean it?”

You don't mean to chuckle at him while he is being vulnerable, but the way he looks at you with those wide, dark brown eyes, you can't fight back the sound.

“Yes. Of course I mean it. I could never live with myself knowing I forced myself on you.” A chaste peck finds its way from your lips to his temple.

Gale seems taken aback by your understanding, though the confusion in his face doesn´t stay for too long.

“I have an idea. How would you feel about being the one to guide my hands over your body until you feel more comfortable with them wandering on their own?” You purr, biting your lower lip in excitement at the prospect of exploring him more.

His eyes glow up at the proposal and he slowly nods his head. “I think I would like that very much.”

Your hands, still holding his, find Gale´s chest, resting against it without moving. That alone has his heart beating faster an embarrassing amount, but so does yours as his own digits carefully begin to guide them. Shaky breaths mingle, your eyes stay on each other securely, meanwhile you feel the soft indigo fabric and the contrasting rough silver accents under your palms. Roaming over his upper body once more, caressing his neck and running through his hair. Every now and again your lips meet his to share a kiss or to press some chaste affection to his jawline or the column of his throat, which draw soft whimpers from both of your lungs. It gets the warmth in your stomach to swirl hotter than ever before and when you least expect it, Gale leads you underneath the shirt again. The feel of his still heated skin is exhilarating, but he still has a surprise left for you.

Gale lightly lifts one of his legs and flexes the muscles to rub against the bundle of nerves at the apex between your thighs, making you draw in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, Gale…” You breathe out, beginning to tremble just as much as he does. “That feels so good.”

The wizard is only able to hum in agreement, too focused on your fingers carding through his chest hair and teasing his nipples under his guidance. In search of more stimulation, your hips begin to move on their own. Rubbing your pleasure centre against his thigh, ready to stop at any moment. Yet as you do so, Gale groans and meets your stagnant motions. Your lips meet once more and just like this kiss your movement against each other´s bodies grow heavier and more passionate fast.

Before you know it, the wizard has left your hands at his hips to lay his own on yours to guide them instead. A tight winded knot builds in the pit in your stomach quickly, prompting your hips to grow more erratic.

“I am so close.” Gale barely manages to part barely far enough to moan into your mouth and is immediately met with the sentiment being very much reciprocated by you.

“I want to reach my peak along with you.” You whimper right back, desperate for the release that is threatening to take over the two of you.

The confession alone makes Gale´s hips falter and the hardened length in his pants twitch before erupting with his climax. A drawn-out moan fills the space that was otherwise only filled with your heavy breathing and pulls you right over the edge with him, your body weakly collapsing against his chest, while you bathe in the glow of your shared pleasure.

“Perhaps this might not be the perfect moment to confess this, but I think I have been in love with you since the moment I pulled you out of that portal.” You whisper weakly, eyes falling close at regular intervals already.

“On the contrary I believe there is no better time for this confession. I have felt similarly for a long time as well now. Though I have never dreamed of speaking my feelings out loud.” Gale answers in just the same quiet, intimate tone.

[feyascorner]

wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

[dekariosclan]

A Tav who, from the first moment they meet Gale, knows they could never be his equal. A Tav who is painfully aware that they are lacking in intelligence, but not wise enough to know how to improve it. A Tav who isn’t handsome, beautiful, or attractive. A Tav who doesn’t love their own body, the sound of their own voice, or the face that looks back at them from the mirror. A Tav who is kind and gentle with others, but not with themselves.

A Tav who cannot understand why Gale fell in love with them, much less why he was so eager to wed them. A Tav who now constantly asks themselves: How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They watch Gale with affection as he pours over tomes in their home in Waterdeep, night after night, breezing through ancient writings that they themselves know they would never be able to comprehend or follow. They love to listen to him talk, and nod with genuine interest as he tells them everything he’s discovered; not completely understanding, but only asking questions on the rare occasions when they truly cannot grasp what he’s trying to convey. They wonder if their stretches of silence secretly annoy Gale, or if their occasional questions do, but he never seems to be anything other than elated as they listen to him. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

At his request, they often join him at Blackstaff Academy for lunch. They watch as his colleagues engage him in scholarly discussions that they cannot participate in. They see the glances he gets from his more attractive colleagues, interest that goes beyond professional courtesy; yet he still breaks away as quickly as he can to whisk Tav off to the solitude of his office, sit down next to them, kiss them, ask them about their day. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They greet him warmly when he arrives back home every evening. On the nights that Gale cooks, they love to watch him prepare meals, his hands as graceful and deft as when he’s casting spells. On the nights that they cook, they always feel a slight pang of anxiety, wondering if the simple meal they’ve prepared is good enough, but Gale showers them with compliments and cleans his plate every time. The stories Gale shares from the Academy over dinner are as interesting as they are amusing, making Tav laugh almost as much as the bad puns he sprinkles into the conversation like seasoning. They try their best to match his wit when they tell him about the events from their day, but they always feel that the stories they share are much less amusing or interesting than his, even though Gale listens with rapt attention to every word. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

One evening, as the sun dips slowly into the sea from their view on the balcony, Gale suddenly stops speaking. Tav looks up in surprise, as he’d been regaling them with discoveries from an ancient text he’d finished reading.

“Is everything alright, love?” They ask, their heart suddenly pounding as they see Gale staring at them intensely. He responds with a soft apology, and says that it just occurred to him that he has a question he needs to ask them. Most urgently.

The pounding of their heart now fades to a hollow echo, as they’re sure they know what he will ask: Why would a man of his talent and understanding continue to stay with someone as mediocre, unimpressive, and plain as they are?

…but instead, he takes both their hands in his, holding them gently but firmly, and gazes lovingly into their eyes. “I spend my days caught up in academic discussions, decisions and debates. I do enjoy it of course, for the most part, but…to come home to you, to be able to talk without being judged or spoken over, to have your calm attention, the balm of your quiet intellect and understanding…you are an oasis for my soul.” He smiles and lifts their hands to his lips, kissing them reverently. “I’ve read so many books, learned from the brightest scholars, and yet, I still cannot understand…how did I get so lucky as to be loved by you?”

[whaledenwtf]

Hello! This might be a weird request but what about Gale, Halsin and Astarion with a s/o who's super cute and friendly and overall just a gigantic sweetheart who also happens to canonically be horrifyingly powerful. Like potentially even more destructive than Gale and the orb. Enemies who know their lore turn and run just at the mention of them and their name strikes fear into many hearts but then the camera pans over and it's this short sweetheart of a person. Literally this post basically

Thank you so so much, I really love your writing! Also Happy Holidays sweetie! ☺️

I love this idea!! I made it headcannons so it wasn't too long to read! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Please ask more, I love writing things for people <3

REQUEST HERE

Headcannons: Astarion, Gale and Halsin with a super cute friendly S/O who's horrifyingly powerful

Warnings: None, this is just indulgent FLUFF, Minor Spoilers for Act 1 and for Gale and Astarion's Lore

Astarion

You were always sweet with Astarion, and only made him feel comfortable and safe.

After he told you he was a vampire, you accepted him despite everyone else telling you not to!

When you told him you could beat Cazador, he didn't believe you at first because of your sweet nature.

The first time he realized you were a legend was when you guys raided the Goblin Camp to save Halsin.

You initially told everyone your name was Tav, so nobody really knew who you were.

Every Goblin met their end with a swing of your weapon, gutting them before they blinked.

It scared your companions, honestly.

When you got to Minthara, you told her your name was (Y/N), and she backed away from you.

Astarion was confused until Karlach, Wyll and Lae'zel spoke of your legendary moniker.

Wyll may be known as the "Blade of Frontiers" but you were known as "The Walking Death" and that was thrilling for Astarion.

Every monster, creature and being met their demise when face to face with you.

Astarion was a slave for 200 years, only knowing the bare minimum from Cazador. But knowing you were on his side, and under his thumb, that thrilled him!

Once you apologized about lying to your companions, they all welcomed you in their arms, especially Astarion.

As he slowly falls in love with you, he realizes that he likes knowing his significant other is not only powerful and showed no mercy, but showed him life through another lens.

You show him that love doesn't make someone weak, but stronger.

You're powerful, and having you by his side makes him feel unstoppable as well.

He is very grateful for you. You will pull him from Cazador's clutches and stay with him through it.

Despite your sweet nature, you kicked ass. You saved everyone you could, which annoyed Astarion. But he loved you despite it, and always will.

After all, why would he run away from the first good thing to happen to him?

Gale

He was also confused about who you were right away. As a scholar he spent most of his time in books, rather than the battlefield.

Honestly, his mind was distracted between the Netherese Orb in his chest and Mystra.

When you pulled him out of the portal, he was struck by your kindness.

Then he was struck by your beauty when you fought valiantly for your companions.

He was excited seeing someone so powerful near him, and honestly fell harder.

After telling you what Mystra did, you told him you'd kill her.

He laughed you off, until he saw what you could do.

Now he's worried he won't have a goddess to worship.

Your battle prowess is astounding, and he can't help but admire you as you shout commands to your companions.

You always were gentle with Gale, soft touches and sweet nothings between you two.

He always finds it difficult to associate you with your title.

"The Slayer of Man and Beast" he's heard Lae'zel and Shadowheart call you.

You always chuckle and tell them "soon you'll have to add gods to that"

Now he's even more worried about his goddess

Over time, he considers you his goddess. After all, you've protected and respected him much more than Mystra ever had.

When he tells you about the Netherese Orb, you shrug him off.

"Nothing will keep me from you, not even a bomb."

Wow

When you two are alone, he caresses your muscles and your hands. He's in love with the idea of his significant other being this battle-worn individual set to protect him

Throughout your adventure, you remind him that you would protect him with your life.

"All for little old me?"

"Nobody will stop me from protecting you. No monster or goddess."

Man you really hate Mystra for hurting Gale so bad.

You dream about smiting her and protecting Gale in your arms.

While adventuring, you always keep Gale by your side. Everyone teases you for it until you shoot them a warning glance.

You're so so good to him. You take hits for him, heal him in battle, and heal him in the privacy of his tent.

"You're too good to me." He muttered once, eyes closed.

"You've never been treated right. It's my personal duty to make sure you never doubt yourself ever again." You replied, kissing his eyelids.

He just fell harder.

Halsin

He actually knew who you were before you saved him.

When you said your name, he bowed his head in respect.

"An honour to put a face to the name" He said to you.

You told him you loved how big and safe he was.

"You're the one who would keep me safe, little one."

He wasn't wrong. You've saved him multiple times throughout your adventure.

You were very sweet with Halsin, always leaning against his arms and closing your eyes when you sit together in camp.

He found it amusing, seeing such a feared individual be so innocent and kind with him.

In his 350 years of existence, he's never been so captivated by someone like you.

When he tasked you with eradicating the Goblin Camp, he enjoyed seeing the fear in Minthara's eyes when you said your name.

Despite being a druid, he knew that with life also came death. He accepted your past.

He found the juxtaposition of your personality endearing.

One day, he was in wildshape lounging around as a bear. You laid on him and spoke about different topics regarding your life.

In that same day, he saw you obliterate 20 goblins on your own.

He never thought he'd be aroused by someone killing goblins, but you did that.

You also knew all the spots to scratch when he was a bear??

Yes that's the spot. Right behind his ears.

He liked seeing the way you treat your companions with such kindness.

You showed respect and compassion to those who you find deserve it. You helped people find safety, and feel safe.

It was beautiful, the way you showed such love to those who were close to you.

He always compared you to the ocean.

"Why the ocean?" You asked him once.

"You can be calm, bring peace. But you are also wild, strong in the most beautiful way." He replied.

He enjoyed the way you blushed.

One time, you asked him to wildshape and you rode him into battle. Nothing is scarier than seeing (Y/N) "The Tempest" riding onto a bear.

Even your companions were scared

Ever since then, you always did it. It was like couple bonding, somehow??

Gods, he loves his little tempest

Hope this is as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for me to write!!

[mageofgoobygrove]

What do you think Gale’s reaction to hearing Tav laugh for the first time would be?

Imagine…

Gale’s surprise to your laugh.

Gale Dekarios / GN!Tav

(a/n: YES YES YES MY FIRST REQUEST!!! i immediately had ideas for this prompt, so thank you! also i hope you don’t mind this is more of a headcanon rather than a fic. although now i look at it and its…almost a fic….okay, well, i MAY be dumb. hope you enjoy, anon!)

Gale wasn’t known to be comedic. His delivery to certain phrases might’ve gained him a smile from few, but rarely did he obtain a laugh. If anything, there were pity laughs.

So, he became sort-of an expert when it came to the sound. He could distinguish between authenticity and fakery.

It happened during one of your many talks during the travel to Baldur’s Gate. You two had gotten closer, always talking about the weave or Faerûn’s rich history. He made a comment about the latter of the two, and you laughed.

A genuine laugh, as if what he said was funny. It was a shock that ran deeper than a bolt.

“What’s so funny?”

And you laughed again as you shot back, “you.”

Gale felt his skin heat up, and he couldn’t stop or hide the ridiculous smile from forming on his lips. Karlach glanced at him, almost like she could feel it radiating off him. To her own surprise, his face rivaled hers.

From that moment on, he was determined to make you laugh again.

It quickly became an infectious sound. Between small quips in battle or terrible jokes over the campfire, he hoped one would land.

But he found it easier when he didn’t try. He came to like it more, the jolt he felt when you’d chuckle or giggle—hell, even snort at his words.

It made him feel human. And yes, he is quite human, yet he felt a loss of his humanity due to the netherese orb.

It made him feel that he was worth something, not because of his abilities or endless knowledge. But because something that spurred out of his mind in that very moment cheered you up.

The orb be damned, your laughter shone a light even on the blackest weave.

[faerybella219]

I just think Gale would be so warm.

The type of warm where you sit next to him and just feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s cold when the sun goes down and all you want is heat. You bundle yourself in layers and sit next to the fire as Gale chops up vegetables and roasts meat in a pot for dinner. Every now and then your knees brush together or bump elbows. The first time it happened he lets out an “Oop, apologies,” to which you hastily reply “Oh, its alright.” Really, you thought, it’s more than alright. Since then he stopped apologizing when it happens, seemingly not paying any mind to it.

You can’t help feeling you’re a bit in the way, but your tent is a chilling place- literally. He hasn’t said anything about you being next to him, and the warmth and smell of stew is a great comfort right now. His velvet pajamas seem so comfortable in the firelight. The purple fabric, the embroidered collar and cuffs, and the matching belt which seemed to pin back an excess of fabric reflected a cool hue onto his concentrated face. His gaze seemed to drift off into the flames, the fatty pork leg you found earlier sizzling.

“Smells good,” you remark, a smile quirking your occasionally shivering face.

Gale seems to be pulled from his thoughts when he looks over at you. “Yes, it’s not everyday we’re blessed with good meat. Hopefully this fills us up tonight.”

You nod, a shudder running through you. He glances you over in concern. “A bit cold?”

“You don’t feel it?”

“Ah, no. My body tends to run a bit on the warm side. Always has. Makes me a good bed for a tressym!”

You laugh, and he continues reminiscing. “Tara loved to sit on my stomach while I read in the library. Sometimes she would even have me read to her… don’t tell her I told you that though,” he barks out a laugh before murmuring, “she would be quite embarrassed.”

You think about meeting his cat- tressym. Hopefully she likes you. You think about his library in Waterdeep. Sitting on a chaise lounge with him, your back against his warm chest while he reads to you. His hands on your waist holding you close. Would you even make it that far? The sudden silence that falls between you means Gale wonders the same.

Gale clears his throat. “Well- erm. The stew still has a bit until it’s done. Hopefully that will warm you up.”

Your backs are propped against the wood log which lays behind you. He inconspicuously scoots a bit closer and opens a book which laid on the log. You try to peer over his shoulder to see what he’s reading. There’s nothing else for you to do, and you wouldn’t mind being closer. Your gaze does not go unnoticed.

Gale glances between you and the page, and you almost notice a pink hue creeping across his cheeks. No- probably just the firelight.

“Do you happen to be interested in Menzoberranzan horticulture? I find their uses of the Green Sleep fungus especially titillating.”

You’ve never heard of it before. “Sounds interesting.”

“Oh, that’s only the beginning. Would you.. would you like to read with me?” Gale extends the book further in your direction in offering, looking at you expectantly.

“Sure,” you say. Scooting closer you try to remain casual and unaffected. Your sides are touching now, his on the ground with the book propped open on his legs. Gods, he’s so warm. You feel as though you’re thawing just sitting next to him.

Every now and then he looks at your face, silently asking if he can flip the page. You always just nod, finding it hard to concentrate on reading. His chest rises and falls steadily, his freshly calloused fingers occasionally point out especially interesting passages, and you relax (trying not to melt) into his side. At one point you think you might start to drift off right there, your eyes half lidded.

Suddenly the air starts to smell yummier- fuller and flavored. You realize your eyes are opening to the sight of Gale checking the contents of the pot simmering on the fire.

He turns back to you, “Well, the stew is done.”

Just as you straighten up, he hands you a full bowl. A sheepish smile crawls across his face, and surprisingly he doesn’t say anything.

[reverieblondie]

Desperate for HCs for the men with a "crybaby" SO (in the nsfw sense)

Okay this prompt turned out to be way harder than I thought it would be, so I tried my best! Thank you so much to @savriea for your help with the Gale part! What you wrote for him was the best and I am so grateful for your help! I hope you enjoy!

Rolan, Raphael, Halsin, Astarion, Wyll, and Gale!

Rolan

Rolan isn't quick to warm up to strangers, so of course, he kept his distance, but something about you did make him curious. Strong, heroic, pretty, and stoic compared to the others in your group. For the first time in a long time, was Rolan taking an interest in someone? Of course, he didn't want to make it obvious, but he found that when you were in the grove, his eyes were on you, trying to learn about you from afar. However, on the inside, it was gnawing at him to get to know you better and talk to you. It was the day of the grove party, and even though you were the night's hero, you still insisted on helping carry supplies for the party. As Rolan was in the storage shed, he was trying to find food that would be decently tolerable when he heard a loud crash. Quickly, Rolan turns the corner to see what had happened when he locked eyes with you holding a crate with no bottom, and bottles of fine wine crashed and staining the ground. Rolan goes to say something to you when he finally notices your face, red and streaming with tears. Looking back at his shocked face, all you could do was tremble out that you were sorry. Shocked was an understatement; he thought you were the tough badass, but you are crying over a simple mistake. You felt like a complete failure; you ruined the good wine, and now we're expecting a verbal thrashing from Rolan, who, based on what you observed, was not afraid to speak his mind. Then, he starts to laugh… Rolan couldn't help it, and it made you tear up more. With a snap of his fingers and a mutter of a spell, Rolan cleans up the mess you had made. Rolan gently touches your shoulder, "You shouldn't cry, and I don't mean to laugh. I'm just…surprised by you. I thought you were emotionless, but you're actually secretly a crybaby. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Then he flashed you his sharp-toothed smile, and you couldn't help but smile back. You didn't realize he had such a pretty smile. Later at the party, as people grimaced while they drank the cheap wine, Rolan and you shared a look and a smile as he pressed a finger to his lips. 

It happened again; a simple mistake had you in tears behind the inn, away from prying eyes. When Rolan sees you, he is quick to kneel by your side. According to you, there was a blunder at camp, and you managed to burn a hole in Lae'zel's tent; they would be returning soon, and she is not one you want to make angry. As you explain your story, you feel yourself getting worked up again; your chest starts to feel tight, the lump in your throat returning, and fresh tears threatening to spill; but before you can, you feel a comfortable warmth wrapping around your leg. Then, a calm hand on your shoulder; you're unsure why, but you feel more at ease already. "If you like, I can help you fix the tent; you won't believe how many times I've had to mend burned clothes. There is a reason why Lia isn't allowed to cook anymore." you two share a quick laugh, and you find yourself leaning into him. "Thank you for offering to help me…" Rolan laughs, "Considering everything you have done for me, it's the least I can do. "You two stay there for a while longer, neither of you ready to leave the comfort of this moment. You hope that if you both make it to the city, you two can continue to help each other, even in small ways.  

The more time you spend with Rolan, the more you learn about him. Not only is he intelligent and a bit cocky, but he's also a bit of a tease. Of course, this fact about him didn't appear until you two started dating. You had been helping him in the shop, and for some reason, it must have just been the god's cruel joke to have everything that could go wrong at work happen to you today. Trying to avoid crying on the floor, you hid away in the storage room in the back. Rolan, busy with demanding customers all day, was ready to slip away for a break; as he goes into the dark storage room, he runs into you. Thanks to his dark vision, he sees you all ready and on the verge of tears. Rolan grabs you close and asks what he can do for you; imagine his surprise when you tell him you want a kiss. Of course, he agrees eagerly, though he did not expect your kiss to be so hungry and your hands to cling so desperately. You feel Rolan smile through the kiss, causing you to break away and look into his glowing eyes. Though he is a faceless shadow to you, he can perfectly make out your flushed cheeks and tightening thighs. Rolan grabs one of your hands and drags it down his body as he whispers in your ear, "Want me to help you, Tav…Make you feel good…" Your hand touches his hard length, and it takes everything in you not to whine out your yes. Rolan licks your neck, making you moan as you both eagerly start to undo your bottoms. "Poor thing is messing up all day… all because your feeling so fucking needy… don't deny it, I can smell on you." The best thing about Rolan is that he always follows through when he teases. 

He's completely overwhelming, and you just can't get enough…His smell, warmth, his breath cascading over your sweating skin, his hand holding your hips so tightly you feel his nails digging into your skin. All this you can handle, but when his rich voice coos in your ear… that sets your nerves on fire. You feel Rolans forked tongue slide against your ear as he shoves you down on his cock deeper, The full feeling making your body tremble. "You're taking me so well. I'm proud of you…" Rolan purs in your ear that addictive praise that always makes your stomach flip. It was only a matter of time before he found out about your kink, but you didn't expect him to abuse it as much as he does. Rolan arches your hips up, pushing his length to hit your G stop, nonstop ramming into it, making you clench on him with a moan of his name. Rolan rubs his hand on your ass before squeezing to cause more moans to fall from your kiss-bitten lips. Rolan relishes in the noise, rolling his hips deeper, watching your blissed-out face with a lazy smirk, "Those are such pretty sounds. Keep them up for me." his voice is a mixture of sweet and mocking. You can't help how the intensity always makes your eyes tear up in the pleasure of all he's giving you; it's just too fucking good… 

Raphael

You are an adorable sight that Raphael can not help but lick his lips at. You have been a delight since the first moment he saw you. Your body trembling from his true form, hopefully look in your wide eyes as you take in his words, then the delish tears that fell when you took his deal to give him the crown. So innocent and eager to please all you meet, the best part? That sweet innocence, any bickering, teasing, bullying, and your face was welling up in hiccuping tears. It takes everything for him to not break his regale physode and lick up your tears as they fall. Raphael can't, not yet, at least. He needs to have your trust, and then once he is sure he has you where he wants you, he will be sure to take what he wants. You, on the other hand, can't help but fall for his charm. He's a devil, sure, and maybe you're just hopeful and naive, but something about him makes you trust him… You have seen his house…heard the tortured souls, and shed tears from what you witnessed, but when his hot breath caresses your skin as he thanks you for his crown, you're flooded with things you have never felt stir in you before. Tears can't help cascade from your eyes as you flush from the welling of tears… Raphael's golden eyes take in the delicious sight. He feels something pring in his chest as your trembling hand softly touches his face. "will…I ever see you again…" your voice shakes. That feeling of devouring you changes to one of protection. Raphael wraps his arms around you, letting you cry into his tunic as a smile stretches to his lips. Innocent little mouse… you're his now, forever.

You're crying again…why the hell are you crying again…you had shown up here sad and down-headed, muttering something about you and your companions getting into an argument or something. At the time, you insisted you just need time to calm down, but now, as he is trying to review contracts, all that he can focus on is your cries ringing in his ears.  However, Raphael is shaken up by something…he thought that he would be here growing annoyed with you, but he has just grown concerned. Instead of wanting to stop your cries because he doesn't want to hear you sad…he can't stand it. Before he knows it, he is standing up and marching over to your slumped, sniffling form. As you open your mouth to apologize, you're being silenced by a tight embrace and kisses to your temple, "I, you're crying… I'm sorry," Raphael rubs his hand softly on your back, slowly settling you…" Tell me what happened; let me help you." Raphael, usually selfish and arrogant…until it comes to you…maybe it's just a phase of something different that will blow over, or perhaps it's love…

You swear you have never been so embarrassed, but you missed Raphael and couldn't help yourself anymore….Tears threaten to fall, and the tightening in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. You move your hand faster, but then a disapproving tsk makes you pause, "Slowly…move your hand slowly, mouse…" You flick your eyes over to Raphael, where he sits watching you with a smirk, "I want you to build it slowly…till you can hardly bear it.." with a trembling sigh, you slow your hand, the feeling in your stomach feeling like it burns as your mind clouds. Raphael had caught you touching yourself while you waited for him to get back from a meeting. Instead of taking over for you or letting you finish, he pulled up a chair, and instead of instructing you, he told you it would feel so good…and it does…Raphael taunting and teasing controlling everything you do to yourself. It feels like you have been edging yourself for hours, your hot tears slipping down your face, and he was relishing in it, at his innocent mouse being so naughty… Raphael leans back, watching your quivering sex, licking his lips. "Does it hurt mouse?" You can hardly contain your quivering sob, "Y-yes…" his eyes clouded as he licks his lips, "What do you want…" you hesitate to answer, being too shy to say, it is so embarrassing… "Mouse?" His stern voice shoots a shiver through you, "To cum…" "Oh, that's very naughty…do it, make a mess on my sheets…let it wash over you…let the ecstasy take over." You start to move faster, moaning louder, the feeling reaching a mind-numbing peak. A blissful tear falls as you get closer and closer. A finger wipes away the tear, and you look up at him as he stands next to you now, a cocky smile still on his handsome face, "I wanted a closer view…"  

"Raph-Raphael-" a careful hush eases your hiccuping. Raphael brings his large hand to rub up and down your waist as the other digs into your hip, making you let out a whiny gasp. Raphael's hand comes up to tweak your nipple, making your body jump and a sharp cry fall from your swollen lips. His hands are mind-numbingly hot as they overwhelm you. "So sensitive mouse… you have only taken the tip." Raphael sinks his cock in deeper, your entrance stretched taught from his devil-form cock, your insides trying so desperately to accommodate to his textured girth, hot and throbbing as it drags across your insides. "It's too much!" another moan rips through you as he bullies in deeper, sinking in with more force than slowing up for you to accommodate and catch your breath. You can't help the tears that start to fall from your burning cheeks. "Shh… you're doing so well for me, mouse, crying so beautifully…" Raphael leans down, dragging the tip of his hot tongue over your tear-soaked cheek, then a sweet, chaste kiss to still your trembling begs. Right as you start to adjust, he pushes in roughly again, the pain swirling with pleasure as he overwhelms you. "You're so close to taking it all, my pet…are you ready?" He chuckles. "Might hurt for a moment, but then it will be pure bliss…" His sultry words are a sweet promise. You look at his beautiful face, which is slightly shining from sweat, the fires making him look like he glows. "Yes…" Raphael smiles and cups your cheek…it feels so tender…Then he snaps his hips, hitting that spot within you that rips out a scream…" Oh mouse, your cries are delicious." his pace quickens, "Give me more…" 

Halsin

It's incredible the kinds of people you will encounter in a lifetime, especially 350 years of life, but none of them have stirred anything in him like you have. Halsin doesn't know if he wants to hold you close and smother you in kisses or take you over his knee and give you a firm spanking. You're a brat, and the cherry on top is a crybaby, too, one that pouts and huffs with irritated tears when you don't get your way. Most couldn't handle someone like that, but Halsin isn't like most. Typically, Halsin is one to bow at a person's whims, but he likes to challenge you and work you up to a tissy. You're willing to go round and round with him, sometimes going against him to just get a reaction from the patient druid. Halain knows your game and is unwilling to give in to you so easily. Finally, after you're in irritated tears and groaning, you nest your head into his chest as he gently rubs his hand along your back. "Halsin, I thought you liked me…" you say through sniffles, "I completely adore you…but you lost the bet, and I can't just let you go back on your word." You pout at him with a huff, tears pooling in your eyes. "You're just going to let Astarion take my favorite ring." Halsin chuckles and pinches your cheek. "You lost the bet, and fair is fair, my brat, now stop pouting…or else…" he teases, and you bite your lip, looking up at him with mischief…" is that so…" such a brat.  

Sure, considering how much your always throwing fits, you would think that Halsin would be desensitized to your crap, but without waiting every time you're upset, there he is right next to your crying side, letting you cry it all out. It's best to not bottle up your emotions. He is always so charitable and calm, and you… you're a crybaby brat… you know deep down he deserves better than you, but you're too selfish to let him go. It was another one of those days where you let your emotions get out of hand, and instead of being an adult and dealing with it, you're lurking in your tent. Halsin comes in and sees you facing the corner; he knows not to lecture you. You hear him sigh and rummage around; before you know it, he's sitting next to your crying form with his wood carving stuff laid out, ready to be at your side till you're ready. Halsin pats his large hand on your head and places a quick kiss. He whispers something in elvish you now know means, 'I will wait for you.' He's just too perfect… its not an hour later you two are wrapped up in a tight embrace as you give him a thousand sorrys with a thousand kisses.  

It's torture, complete and utter torture when he does this to you. Halsin has fooled everyone except for you… and that's exactly why he does this to you… Adjusting yourself, you can't help but shudder at the feeling, your mind sparks, and all you can muster is a whimper. Halsin chuckles as you squeeze his shoulder, your face a contortion of pleasure and desperation…His large hand pats your back as the other keeps busy with the letter he has been writing for what feels like hours now. "Try not to stir my heart…it only makes it worse…" his husky voice makes you dig your nails into his muscle, "Hal-H-Ah-Halsin, please!" your whining makes his cock throb within you…the sensation makes you move up and down impatiently, wanting to feel the friction against your walls. You have been cock warming Halsin, it was the only way he could convince you to let him finish his work, but you know deep down he just likes to make you whine. That bratty crybaby nature, he loves to fuck out of you to submission, only for you to keep acting up for him to do it more. Right as your body is feeling some relief from your grinding on him, Halsin brings his hands to still you; the tears can't help but start to pour from your frustration. "Damnit Halsin! Why?!" Halsin places a finger on your quivering lip to silence you, "Don't be so quick to anger…I promise once I'm done, I will reward your patience…" As he says, he rolls his hips, making you throw your head back at the feeling of his mass so deep, "Now quit being a brat…"  

You had been acting up all day, and despite his warnings, you just wouldn't stop with your attitude…well, now you're in for it. The first chance he got, he was dragging you away from camp and bending you over, your hands braced on the tree in front of you, and a wide smile on your face…Halsins hands roam over your ass, teasing you further, "I told you to stop being a brat…You ready?" With an excited yes, you're being spanked by a powerful hand. It stings as he punishes your ass over and over again; your hands tighten against the bark as that pain mixes into pleasure. For someone trying to teach you not to be a brat, he sure does reward you for it. After the nth time, Halsin hears a shuddering gasp, giving him pause. Halsin is quick to gently turn you around and is horrified to see your face red with tears cascading down your cheeks. Halsin is a slew of apologies as he holds you close. You hold him closely, then using surprise to your advantage, push him down to the forest floor. Halsin looks at you in surprise as you straddle yourself over his strained cock, "Is that all you got, druid? I was expecting…more." oh, now you're really in for it. In a few more moments, you cry out to every deity you know as Halsin as you ride his cock at a bruising pace. When will he learn you are a glutton for punishment? 

Astarion

Astarion is not a man known for his patience, especially when it comes to crybabies. In Astarions' opinion, he is the only one who gets to whine and cry about anything. It's not that he would actually be sad; he's mainly just irritated. What was the point of wasting tears on things someone can't control? Then you joined their merry band, and he started to figure it out. You, the dazzling hero of the day who would do anything to help, hells Astarion, were sure you would give the armor on your back if you thought it would help someone. How irritating… You have always been a compassionate soul, and when you would see anyone in need or when others cried, you found that you felt it deeply, and then the tears would fall. Never bumbling or hiccuping, just tears that would glisten from your eyes to streak your cheeks. Astarion remembers when he first saw this from you; at the grove, as the refugees lamented their troubles to you, he saw that you started to cry from their pain. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes at you, but then you swore to help them with an unbreakable resolve in your eyes, and something in him stirred. Your tears became a regular thing on your adventure together, and though he would never say it out loud, he found something beautiful about it. As you two grew closer and he told you about his past, he saw those shimmering tears again, Astarion hadn't shed a tear, but it was like you felt his pain…someone saw his hurt and wanted to cry for him. Astarion couldn't help himself, his cold hand whipping gently at your tear-stained cheeks, "I wish I could take away that pain…" Your voice quivered, and then his lips kissed you sweetly. Just being there and trying to understand him helped ease his pain. 

Today, you had seemed quieter than usual, and Astarion couldn't help but take notice; he found that lately, he started to take notice of you more and more. Your routines, your attitude. It was late, and everyone else had turned in for the night. You stayed up watching the dancing fire. Clearing his throat to get your attention, he finally saw those glittering streams running down your cheeks. Shit… Astarion, not exactly the best at consoling people, did the only thing he could think of, "Would you care for a walk?" with a slight nod, you and Astarion took a walk through the quiet wood. The crisp air and the sounds of the whispering animals were soothing. Then there was Astarion just silently walking beside you. Though he didn't say it, you knew that he would listen to you should you decide to speak…but talking about it wasn't what you needed. All you needed was his calm presence next to you, there just in case. When you two finally return to camp before Astarion can slip back to his tent after your silent walk, you grab his hand suddenly; he looks at you confused before you smile and thank him. Him just being close always makes you feel better.  

It's no surprise that though you might be more sensitive than most, Astarion never passes on the chance to tease and taunt you. You know, this is just how Astarion shows his affection for people. Sure, it's a little unorthodox, but that's Astarion, and you can't bring yourself to mind it. Today, he was taunting you and your bleeding heart. You yet again find yourself helping another helpless soul. So, while you are packing up his things to join you, "I swear you will just say yes to anything a person asks of you now." Astarion says with a smirk. "Well, Astarion, have you ever thought I might like getting myself in trouble." Astarion looks at you confused, "You? Enjoying trouble?" it was just too easy…you walked over, placing a hand softly on his chest, "I do enjoy being around you…and you're definitely trouble. In more ways than one…" Astarion looks at you confused before he smiles, "Are you trying to act like me right now?" you smile and pat his chest, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Thought I should tease you more, Wada think?" Astarion pinches your nose, "I think you need practice, but I'm more than willing to give you some tips."  

Could it always be this soft…this gentle… your lips meet his in a slow, controlled kiss. Your warm hands cupped his face, telling him you're here, not leaving, that you care. Your tongue is slow and timid as it asks for his lips to part. Astarion almost wants to laugh at the timidness of it; here he is naked with you, rutting slowly in between your legs, and you're scared that your tongue in his mouth will be too much. Astarion loves that about you; you're so caring and soft, even to someone like him. Astarion sinks in deeper, and you let out a groan from the stretch, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat that Astarion just can't stop kissing. Your hands carefully holding onto him tighter, but nothing to mark him…he's been marked enough for a lifetime. Softly, you coo his name breathlessly, and he never loved the sound of his own name so much; you're just… everything to him. Astarion brings his lips to your ear, gently easing you till he can't help himself anymore, "I-I love you." he feels you stop moving, and for a second, he thinks he might have been wrong, but before the doubt can manifest in him, he hears a sniffle. Leaning back, he sees your eyes shining in tears and a wide smile; you look beautiful…" A-astarion, I love you too. He leans to kiss away your tears, so this is true intimacy. 

Wyll

Sometimes, you seem unreal; you're the kind to take on a whole goblin camp and fight for justice, but the simple sight of a meowing kitten or an old couple holding hands and sharing a tender moment will have you blubbering in tears. You're a complete sweetheart and a bit of a crybaby, but Wyll can't help but find it endearing. You're like a breath of fresh air after being on the road for so long. On the road, people act so tough and hard, never giving away any emotion, but not you; you're so honest about how you're feeling, willing to shed tears at anything that pulls at your heartstrings and that pulls at his. Cute and sad things were not the only things to make you cry. Wyll found that any sweet romantic gesture would make your eyes well up in happy tears. First, Wyll started out by giving you a flower; it was a casual gesture of affection for your relationship getting stronger, but the way you started to shed tears, it was like you received bad news. Through your sobs and hiccuping Wyll asked if you didn't like flowers, his consideration of your feelings made you cry more and fling yourself into his arms. "I love flowers; it's just so sweet of you to offer me one." You hug him tighter, feeling his heartbeat racing in his chest. "Thank you, Wyll. For being so sweet to me." Wyll wraps his arms around you tighter, already planning his next sweet gestures. Asking you to dance, making you a meal, working up to sharing a kiss… and one day bringing you home a kitten.  

Most people would find this annoying, but Wyll can't help himself. Your kindness and soft heart know no bounds, and Wyll feels that by the day, he is falling more and more enamored with you. You smile through your tears as you watch the celebration; everyone seems so happy and relaxed that they can finally continue their journey. Lost in the rejoining of the party, you fail to see Wyll come to your side; how he learned to be so quiet to sneak up on you, you will never know. Wyll gently brushes his finger to wipe away your tears. This instantly makes you apologize for crying again when it is not justified, but Wyll just wraps an arm around you, letting you lean into his surprisingly comfortable body; you would think for his physic, he would be uncomfortable to lay against, but… he's so warm, and comfortable… "Don't ever apologize about who you are." you let out a laugh, "so you don't mind being around a crybaby?" Wyll just shakes his head, "No, I don't mind drying your tears; it's nice being around someone so in tune with their emotions." Wyll squeezes you tighter, "Maybe if I'm around you, it will show me how to be more honest with mine." The rest of the night was spent with you two sharing small talk, curling further into each other's embrace.   

Wyll tries his best not to tease you. He is a gentleman, but sometimes he just can't help himself from a little playfulness, and yes, you will admit that it makes you pout (but you love this side of him). Wyll knows to be careful not to push you too hard because of your soft nature, so he got creative on how to get you to adorably pout. As you're sitting by the river trying to scrub the blood out of your clothes from today's battle, your mind wanders to Wyll and how he hasn't flirted with you today (how dare he!). Quietly, Wyll makes his way to you; he decides to play, which he thinks is a funny trick. He taps on your left shoulder as he gets close before quickly darting to the right. It never fails that you look to the tapped shoulder to then audibly groan his name, trying to hit him. Today, though, you take the chance to splash water on him, causing the start of an impromptu fight. Of course, Wyll is winning by having you laugh to the point of tears as he avoids your hits. Then you both pause… he looks down at your face, smiling gently as he wipes away a tear from your cheek. Wyll leans in, and you close your eyes, ready for this to finally happen…" Tsk, could you two resist procreating in the middle of camp. Disgusting…” You and Wyll quickly separate with a sigh… Lae'zel strikes again, but she's not wrong; maybe you can ask him to come to your tent tonight…

The tears couldn't help but flow out of you. Everything is so sensitive. Everything feels like, at any moment, you could burst into flames or burst into more tears. Your only saving grace is the soft kisses Wyll leaves on your body. "Just a little more; hang on a little longer, my love." His words drive you to hold on through the overstimulation about to reach your third mind-melting orgasm. Wyll is constantly pushing your body to its limits. You two had waited to be intimate, and Wyll assured you it would be well worth the wait. Of course, he was right about it. Now every night since Wyll has fucked you to incoherent whimpering and blissed-out tears as his length drives deeper in you, making that tight coil in your stomach snap for the fourth time now. His stamina is unrelenting as you coat him in your arousal. The crying of his name from your swollen lips drives him for one more, "One more, one last one, for me, baby…"

Gale

(This first bullet point was written by the amazing @savriea they are truly amazing and this snippet inspired me so much! huge thank you to them!)

Gale was captivated by your bravery at the grove. You stood tall against the druids, your determination making a difference for the tiefling child. It was a rare sight to see someone so unyielding yet so compassionate, and it had left a profound impression on him. He decided that he wanted to share a piece of his world with you, so that night he set up a small area away from camp and invited you over. He watched you intently, admiration in his eyes as you prepared to learn the basics of magic. Your initial attempts were clumsy, your fingers fumbling over the components, and your words stumbling over the syllables. Gale instructed you patiently, demonstrating the precise motions and enunciating each word clearly. But despite his guidance, the spell fizzled out for the fifth time, leaving a faint shimmer in the air before dissipating entirely. Frustration welled up inside you, the weight of repeated failure pressing down on your shoulders. The dam finally burst, tears spilling from your eyes as sobs wracked your body. Gale's eyes widened in panic, his usual composed demeanor faltering as he scrambled to salvage the moment. "No, no, no... hey, it's okay," he murmured, quickly moving to your side. His hands gently grasped yours from behind, his comforting warmth seeping into your back as he pressed his cheek against yours. "We'll do it together." With Gale guiding you, your hands moved through the motions again. He spoke the incantation softly in your ear, his voice a soothing melody that calmed your racing heart. You repeated the words, feeling the magic flow through you, unable to hold back a smile. The weave opened up to you, and for the first time, you felt its power caressing your skin. You laughed, a wet sound through your tears, your cheeks streaked and eyes glassy. Gale smiled, a mix of relief and pride shining in his eyes. "See? You did it," he said softly, his voice filled with admiration as he wiped your tears with his hand.

You felt ridiculous... you had decided to buy this outfit as a sexy surprise for Gale, but now your nerves are getting the better of you. Right as your about to change scraping your idea entirely Gale is walking through your tent, right on time as usually. Gales eyes widen not only from seeing your beautiful body on display but he also is feeling concern seeing your eyes starting to well up. Gale is quick to come to your side and hold your tightly, his large hands rubbing slowly up and down your back gently. Waiting till your calm Gale finally decides to ask you what's wrong. you explain how you wanted to wear something sexier for him and you started to second guess yourself, Gale can't help but smile. "You look completely beautiful not matter what my love, though I can't say I am not flattered..." Gales hands start to wonder making you laugh as he buries his nose in your hair taking in your sent that only spurs him on more... "Why don't we give you an actual reason to cry?" Of course you couldn't deny him. Gale knows exactly how you like it, he has made studying how to get you off his top priority these days. Gales lips caress your hips as his hands squeeze gently against you ass, coxing you to wrap your legs around his head so he can start tasting you. His tongue licking long strokes playing with your most sensitive parts before he is wrapping his lips around is and sucking softly. Gale drinks in your cyprine as your hands grip onto his soft locks. This only fuels him to drive into you more as hot tears of pleasure fall from your eyes and you moan and roll your hip against his face, not at all minding the beard.

[gale-force-storm]

Devoured

Rating: E

Pairing: Gale x female!Reader

Additional Tags: Overstimulation, cunnilingus, praise kink, cock warming, aftercare, second person POV

Word Count: 1.8k

Read it on AO3

You thought it would be a great anniversary gift, letting Gale tie you up and do whatever he pleased with you. What you didn't expect (foolishly, in hindsight) was for "whatever he pleased" to mean spending literal hours using that practiced tongue of his to take you apart.

Inspired by this post from the always delightful @naughtybg3confessions

“You're sure you're alright with this?”

“Yes, Gale,” you insist with a small laugh. “I am the one who suggested this, remember?”

“I know, I know. I just want to make sure.” He finishes tying the soft length of fabric around your wrists, securing them to the headboard above you. “How is that? Comfortable? Not too tight?”

You pull at the restraints, testing them. “Feels good,” you confirm. “Secure, but not too tight.”

“Good.” He smiles and leans down, kissing you gently.

“Well, your anniversary present is all tied up in a bow for you,” you say with a devious grin when he pulls away. “I’m all yours, sweetheart. Do your worst.”

“Be careful what you wish for, my love. I just might grant it,” he teases. He kisses you again, but his mouth quickly strays away from yours, moving over your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He teases at your nipples, mouth on one, fingers on the other, lingering briefly before continuing his path down.

“Gale,” you sigh, half pleased and half exasperated, “this is supposed to be about your pleasure.”

“Trust me my love,” he replies, smirking against your skin, “it will be.”

You huff out another breath, letting your head drop back. You’ll indulge him for now. Besides, you think at the first warm press of his mouth to your center, you would never truly complain about getting to have his mouth on you.

He pauses briefly to grab a spare pillow and position it under your hips, raising them higher for easier access. He pulls your legs up, resting your thighs over his shoulders, and kisses one of them before turning his attention back to your cunt, where your arousal is already obvious.

“Always so wet for me,” he sighs appreciatively. “So eager.”

“Always for you, my love.”

He beams up at you, all love and wonder and pride. “Truly, I could ask for no greater gift than you.”

He leans in, licking from your entrance up to your clit, humming his pleasure. He licks a few more times like this, broad strokes of his tongue, savoring you, and you settle back into the warm, familiar pleasure. You moan in encouragement as he slips his tongue into you, his nose pressing against your clit. Yes, you can certainly let him do this for a while. Since he’s insisting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fear you’ve miscalculated. You really should have known better than to underestimate Gale. There are tears running down your face. Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning. You would try to squirm away from the inescapable, overwhelming pleasure of his tongue, his lips, his fingers, but you’re too tired at this point from doing so for the last... how long has it been? Two hours? Three? More? You’ve lost track, just like you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come against his relentless mouth. He gives another calculated thrust of his fingers, another hard suck to your clit, and you cry out, overstimulation bringing the pleasure near the edge of pain.

“Please, Gale, please, I can’t,” you pant. He looks up, but doesn’t pull his mouth more than an inch away from you.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Gods, but his warm breath against your soaked flesh makes you shiver. You can only bring yourself to whine.

“I need your words, love. Do you want me to stop?” he asks firmly.

You work to catch your breath and try to remember how to form words.

“No,” you finally manage to whimper. “Don’t stop.” You see the corners of Gale’s eyes crinkle with his smile.

“Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. You sob, overwhelmed, as he continues his sweet torture, lapping at your cunt like a man starved as though he hasn’t been devouring you for hours. Your hips twitch weakly as you feel the pressure impossibly begin to mount once more, building under his skilled attention. You flutter around him and he moans, the vibrations pulling another sob from your throat.

“That’s it, lovely,” he murmurs as he works you. “One more. You can give me one more can’t you?”

You shake your head, but the rest of your body tells a different story, your legs twitching beyond your control where they rest over his shoulders, hips bucking without rhythm.

“I think you can,” he continues. “I think you can have another for me. Let me taste the sweetness of your pleasure once more.”

You moan, high and strained, as your body moves ever closer to that precipice. You feel delirious, on the edge of madness as much as the edge of pleasure. Gale is ruthlessly efficient as he pushes you on, sucking and licking your clit eagerly as his fingers rub precisely at the spot inside you that makes your head spin. The choked sound you make as you finish once again is somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Gale groans deeply as you clench weakly around his fingers, muscles too tired for more than a weak, fluttering orgasm. He laps at you softly, working you through it with loving tenderness. Finally, he pulls away. You whine helplessly at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you. He sucks them clean, then presses a few kisses to your shaking thighs before moving up your body to hover over you. His face is soaked from nose to chin, lips and beard glistening with your slick. He kisses you hotly, and the usual taste of him is completely drowned out by the taste of your own arousal. He runs a warm hand up your arm and rubs gently at your wrists.

“How are your hands?” he asks gently. “Still alright? Can you move them for me?”

It takes a long moment for your addled brain to process his question, but with some effort you manage to wiggle your fingers.

“F-fine,” you stutter weakly. “They’re fine.”

He pulls the fabric up slightly, inspecting the skin. You don’t know what he sees, but he seems to be satisfied with it because he nods once, then turns his attention back to your face. He kisses your cheeks with a gentleness that nearly makes you cry again, and wipes the remaining wetness from them with his thumbs.

“You’re so lovely,” he murmurs. “So beautiful. You’re doing so well. So good for me. My good girl. My sweet, wonderful girl. Taking everything I give you so perfectly. Letting me drink my fill of you. Making such pretty sounds for me while I taste you to my heart’s content. Falling apart so beautifully for me, over and over. Do you think you can take a bit more for me, my good girl? You can say no,” he says, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I would love to be inside you, but we can stop if it’s too much.”

You swallow hard, considering for a few seconds. Slowly, you nod.

“I can take it,” you rasp. “I can take you.”

The heat in his eyes causes your already shaky breath to catch.

“So good for me,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I could ever do to deserve you. I love you so much.”

He shifts, his hardened cock — gods you imagine it must be aching at this point — sliding through your soaking folds and catching at your entrance. You try to breathe steadily as he pushes forward, sliding into you without resistance. He moans as he buries himself in you to the hilt, nosing into the crook of your neck and breathing you in.

“You feel divine,” he praises against your skin. “Better than divine. You are perfection itself. I could stay like this for hours.”

He sighs contentedly, and doesn’t move. Your mind, sluggish as it is now, kicks up a gear. It has to be a turn of phrase. He can’t actually mean...

You feel him shift slightly. He props himself up with one arm, while the other slides between you. He presses his thumb against your lips and you let it in on instinct, sucking lightly on the tip of it. He grins.

“Such a good girl.”

He pulls his thumb out and brings the hand down, down, down your body. It slides briefly against your entrance where he’s stretching you open, and he groans. Then it slides up and starts rubbing softly, maddeningly over your clit.

“Gale?” You can’t manage more than a whisper.

“Shhh... Just a few more, my love,” he soothes. “I want to feel you come around me at least thrice before I’m done with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your eyes, blinking a few times as you try to get your bearings. Gods, you must have actually blacked out for a moment. Gale is still above you, panting heavily, his face pressed against your shoulder. You whimper as you feel him twitch inside you, the feeling well and truly overwhelming at this point. He groans and pulls out of you as gently as he can. He presses a kiss to the mark he’d apparently sucked into your shoulder and turns to look at you, one hand coming up to brush a sweaty lock of hair from your forehead.

“Alright my love?”

You nod weakly.

“Are you sure?”

You nod again. “Y-yes. Good.”

“Good,” he breathes. “You are spectacular. Wonderful beyond words.”

He moves to untie your wrists. Once he does he rubs them gently, then down your arms, massaging the sore muscles.

“Do you need some water?”

You nod, more emphatically this time. He helps you sit up and takes a glass from the nightstand. He holds it to your lips, helping you to drink. Once you’ve had your fill, he reaches over for a soft cloth that was next to the glass. He moves to clean you, but you flinch when the cloth touches your thigh.

“Too much,” you manage.

“Ah. Of course. Apologies, my love” He puts the cloth away, instead muttering a quick prestidigitation, cleaning both you and the sheets with a wave of his hand. He looks as though he means to say something else, but you yawn, and he simply smiles fondly.

“Need some rest?”

“Gods, yes.”

He chuckles and helps you lay down, pulling you into a warm embrace. He rubs your back soothingly and nuzzles into your hair.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “My good, sweet girl. I love you so dearly.”

“Love you too,” you mumble, already halfway back to unconsciousness. You feel him smile against you and place a kiss to the top of your head.

“And I’m so grateful that you do. Now, get some sleep, my love.”

You sigh in agreement, and it takes no time at all for his steady breathing and comforting warmth to lull you into what just might be the deepest sleep you’ve ever had.