#f!reader x gale dekarios

[bluerosetarot]

Professor of Waterdeep

"I'm always willing to learn/If you've got something to teach." Strangelove, Depeche Mode

What if Gale had a professor kink? This is purely self indulgent smut, with a f!reader that I tried to make as ambiguous as possible for all AFABs to enjoy.

MDNI, this isn't a student/teacher ship this is you/Tav and Gale married happily with you/Tav teasing him when you realize how much he likes the title.

@amorgansgal @netherese0rb @dr-demi-bee @waterdeep-weavemoss

Your eyes scan the pages in front of you, a book from Gale's massive collection before you correct yourself mentally that it was partly your collection now. When the great Wizard of Waterdeep had asked for your hand nearly a year ago he promised everything that was his would be yours; books, scrolls, he even made a grand gesture of offering the very air he breathed in his usual flourishing manner with that mischievous grin that was so infectious that you couldn't help but return it every time.

And so over time you had made the space yours in your own little ways. A few paintings, trinkets from your travels together, your own books; and every time you'd bring home something from the town his smile would light up and he'd start looking over the tower for the perfect place to put it on display. The tower was becoming a home for the both of you, working together to build a life you could share for years to come.

It was just you in the tower for now, though, surrounded by books and other finery. He'd gotten back into teaching magic and you chuckled every time someone called him "professor". That title put a glimmer in his eyes and you could sense a noticeable shift in his demeanor. It fed the confidence and ego within, for sure, and his happiness meant you were happy. Tonight, however, when he came home you had a plan: you wanted to test exactly how much that word affected him and now it was your turn to smirk to yourself as you flipped a page. He'd be home soon if the clock on the wall was any indication; he rarely stayed late which he would say was because he knew you were waiting for him. The fact he had you, after so long being Mystra's puppet and the loneliness that followed after, was enough to make him want to rush back to your side at the end of each lesson.

You heard the downstairs door of the tower creak open followed shortly after by Gale's voice announcing his return.

"My love, you would not believe the day I've had." His warm voice echoed up the stairs, a hint of exhaustion in his tone. "I had to put out figurative, and literal, fires today at the academy. The Donlan twins are progressing fine in their studies though, was worried about those two at the beginning of the year…"

You thought back to the first time you two met, pulling him out of the stone and his verbose thanks. Both then and now you had the thought that the man loved the sound of his own voice the way he would ramble as he walked up the stairs. The difference between then and now, of course, was that you had grown to love it just as much as he did. Listening to his voice get louder as he made his way up the stairs made you a bit nervous, the thought of your plan backfiring in the back of your mind.

"Then of course you've got Damiana who has been a natural from the start and the half elf Elise who was a bit rough around the edges but she's been comparing notes with Marco lately which has improved both of them."

"Sounds like you've got a fine class; but of course how could they go wrong with you as their teacher? You're a natural at this, professor." That last word hung in the air between you two with the sultry tone you'd laced it with. You didn't look up from your book but you could hear the confidence as he replied, edging closer to you on the chaise lounge. He'd taken the bait for sure from the sound of the low chuckle rumbling up from his chest.

"Of course I'm a natural, the term 'childhood prodigy' comes to mind." His hands plucked the book from your grasp and he shut the book with an audible clap that brought your gaze up to meet his. "Though I must admit my finest work was our private lesson long ago, when we first began travelling together."

Memories came surging back; that night just after helping the grove and the tieflings. The literal magic building between you two. The closeness that brought your minds and thoughts together. Those warm eyes of his crinkled at the edges, soft lines from the smile on his lips. Though he hadn't said it outright you could tell he enjoyed hearing you call him that, so further on you pressed.

"Then perhaps we could have another private lesson here, professor? I fear I might have forgotten your initial teachings and might need something a bit more hands on." Your hand reached out to caress his forearm and he shuddered in rapturous delight.

"How could I say no to such an… enthusiastic pupil?" Gently he pulled you up from your seat, taking you by the hand and pulling you so close your lips nearly touched. "Shall we work on the verbal," his tongue would glide along his lips to accentuate his words, "or somatic," now his free hand slid down your back, "parts first?"

"Verbal, I think." It was your turn to shudder, suddenly your body felt so very warm. "If I can't properly form the words then I might cast the wrong spell, professor."

Each utterance of that title made his smirk that much wider and he nodded. "I agree, though for purely selfish reasons. Your voice when it resonates with the Weave could put any goddess to shame." He twirled you around and pulled your back against his chest, his lips close enough to your ear you could feel his hot breath as he whispered the first lesson. "Repeat after me… Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao…"

You remembered those words from the first time he taught you, though with him this close it was a bit tougher to concentrate. Still, you took in a shaky breath and repeated his words.

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao…" That familiar spark shot down your spine and you could feel the power in your words. "Like that, professor?" Gale's hands slid down the sides of your body to your hips as you felt his breathing quicken.

"Yes. Just so. Again."

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao." You said it with a bit more authority this time though Gale's wandering hand sliding up to cup one of your breasts through your clothing made you stutter on the last word.

"Careful, a mage needs to have utmost concentration even under the most distracting circumstances. Again." He tweaked a hardening nipple and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. "Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao!" Third time was the charm it seemed and Gale nodded against your ear.

"Very good. Now for the somatic components. One must have perfect control of your hands and fingers and what better way to practice than with a bit of exercise?" The hand not on your breast slid down past the waistband of your comfortable houseclothes and quickly found your soaked lower lips, thumb rubbing against your sensitive nub while a finger slid into your core. "I dare say you were hoping for this outcome, my lovely pupil."

Your breath caught in your throat while your head pressed back against him, legs already a bit shaky as you leaned into him. "I… I had an idea for an experiment, professor… I'm sure you can sympathize with a curious mind…"

"Oh indeed, and you've done very well so far. Quite possibly my best," a second finger joined the first, stretching you a bit more, "student yet." Your squirming brought another chuckle out of him as he twisted your nipple once more. "Do you remember the somatic components for this spell?"

Even as he gave you such sweet torment he still was focused on the lesson. It took a bit for you to recall through the fog of pleasure forming in your mind but you nodded wordlessly and managed, with a bit of difficulty, to emulate the movements as purple sparks flew from your fingertips.

"A good memory is the best trait a wizard can have. And I see your memory hasn't faded." His dexterous fingers slowly pumped in and out of your core while his thumb continued to drive you mad by circling around your clit. "Now for the last component… imagine your concept of harmony…"

You cursed as his hands would draw soft moans from your lips, each movement bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Willing your mind to focus, damnit, you conjured up a memory. Your first morning together in the tower; you'd had a night of bliss that left you both exhausted but that morning was nothing if not harmonious. Soft sunlight filtered through the drapes and illuminated Gale's still sleeping face and enhanced the look of peace on his features. That was harmony incarnate to you, and the vision flooded your mind.

The Weave was connecting you two already and you felt his pleasure at him being your focus. A wave of joy washing over your mind. That did nothing to stop his hands; if anything it spurred him on further. Fingers moved faster, the hand on your breast kneading it gently, warm breath on your ear as he spoke once more.

"Now combine all three. Do it for me, my love." You were so damn close to the edge of climax but followed his command as you felt his heart pounding in his chest behind you.

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao!" Everything was in harmony and the spell went off perfectly. You could feel your minds becoming one, connected by the Weave, and his voice edged into your mind.

"Now, my love. I want to feel you come undone for me. Now!"

A sharp cry of pleasure escaped your lips as the crashing wave of pleasure washed over the both of you, threatening to take your legs out from under you as Gale held you up. Even through the climax his fingers kept tormenting you until you were entirely spent, your breath slowly calming from panting gasps. Only once the final trembles subsided did he remove his hand from you to bring his fingers up to his mouth to taste you.

"Delicious. My favorite taste." Gently he turned you back to face him, his lips pressing to yours for a tender kiss and you could taste yourself on him. When he tried to pull away your hands found his hair and tugged to keep him there a bit longer. When you two finally parted he gazed at you with half closed eyes, that smoldering look that told you that you weren't done yet as he pulled you down onto the lounge. "My turn."

"Of course, professor."

[grymghoul]

GALE was the vocal one during sex. He was helpless and mewing half the time. His hands pawing and clawing at your hips with his head thrown back. He tried to watch you ask much as he could, but his eyes would slip shut. Especially when you anchored your hands on his chest to give yourself a better angle, to have more leverage. He was a mess of moans and panting out your name like a prayer. Every few rolls and snaps of your hips he'd groan and whine, a soft noise, quiet, deep from his chest.

"That's it- God's, that's lovely. You're wonderful at this, are you- ah-" A sharp moan left him, his hands gripping the meat of your ass. He kneaded it, using it to help you fuck him just the way he liked. "I worry I might not survive this.." He swallowed hard, choking back a pathetic whine. "My love.. You're a delight-"

He couldn't help it. You sounded like an animal, your keening moans and open mouth cries. You had made his dick creamy, like a crown at the base. His pubes sticky, navel tacky. You'd come once or twice on his cock. He loved that. He loved feeling those pillowy walls clench around him, trying to milk him for everything he had and more.

"I can't last- not like this-" His hands shook. He was tempted to pull you off of him, so he could have a breather. He was no stranger to edging, you found this wildly hot. How he'd force himself to pull out, panting against your neck in between mouth mouthed kisses on your neck.

Instead, he rolled you over, your legs hooked around his waist from the position change. He pressed your thighs to your chest, angling them apart. He pistoned into with abandon, the wet slaps mixed with your combined moans was a symphony of sin. His forehead pressed to yours, his eyes barely open.

"Look at me. Please." He was barely able to get the words out. His chest tight from the gasps for air, it was like your hot cunt squeezed the air from his lungs. You couldn't deny your wizard what he wanted, such a simple request. When your eyes met, one hand left your thigh to hold your cheek. "Hello, my love.." His words soft and sweet. So sweet. It went straight to your pussy. She was battered by all the attention he'd given her. It was all too much, he was pounding all rationality from you. The waves of another orgasm threatened to crash over you and sweep you away. Gale knew this. From the beginning he was so in tune with what your body was doing.

He used his shoulders to keep your legs pinned, his now free hand dropping down to circle your clit with precision. He felt the grip on his hair tighten, nails raking his back. "That's it, my sweet. Absolutely divine. Like you're a gift from the gods themselves.."

His hips stuttered, eyes fluttering as your cunt clenched him. "Gods above and below.." He buried himself one last time, staying in place as he spilled himself deep inside. His legs trembled as his seed coated your walls. he didn't pull out right away, his face resting into your neck, breath wavering.

His cum oozed out in thick gobs with every twitch and flutter from both of you, ruining the sheets.

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other. 

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. 

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious. 

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire. 

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really. 

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response. 

He knew. 

Astarion knew. 

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

[amorgansgal]

Doing Something Unholy

So, as inspired by a post @waterdeepwhiskey and with encouragement from @waterdeep-weavemoss I have written some glorious smutty filth, involving Gale and a Female Reader/Tav fucking in front of Mystra's statue. Hope you all enjoy some nice, vindictative fucking!

Gale x Female Reader/Tav

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, sex in public

It seemed like no one in camp wanted to tell you where Gale had gone off to. Granted, you both weren’t possessive of each other or needed to know where one another was at all times. But everyone was acting very oddly. You’d narrowed your chosen targets for interrogation to Halsin and Karlach. Most would likely keep the matter a secret, but you felt like an appeal of the heart might win Karlach over and a plea of just wanting honesty would work with Halsin.

You headed over to Karlach’s tent, tucked away between two buildings and she immediately began to fuss with her belongings, as though she had changed her mind on where everything should go. ‘Karlach,’ you began warningly.

‘Hey soldier!’ she said brightly. ‘I… um… I have to… Wyll wants me to help with dinner, so…’

‘You burnt dinner last time you helped with it,’ you pointed out.

‘I know, that’s why I’m on chopping duty. He thinks I can manage that, so I ought to get going, those carrots won’t-!’

‘Karlach, please, where’s Gale?’

She sighed and looked over to the others. You glanced behind you and saw Shadowheart watching you both, a troubled frown on her face and by the looks of things having just shook her head. You snapped your head back around to look at Karlach.

‘Don’t lie to me, where is he?’ For a horrible minute you wondered if he was at Sharess Caress, it seemed so unlike him, even the way the Drow twins had spoken to you had made him deeply uncomfortable. He had said so. But where the hell could he be if he wasn’t there? And why hadn’t he told you where he had gone or what he was up to?

‘He… you remember we visited Stormshore Tabernacle where there was the statue of Mystra?’ Karlach said, evidently deciding it was better to tell you and risk Shadowheart’s annoyance. 

‘The statue of Mystra?’ you repeated, almost dumbly.

‘Yeah, he said he wanted to… uh… go and look at it.’

‘Why does looking at a statue take the better part of an hour?’ you asked, Karlach gave a bemused shrug.

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

‘And he wanted to keep this a secret from me?’

‘Well, I don’t know about a secret…’

You scowled formidably, snatched up your cloak from a pile of clean laundry and began to head back out to the city. You evidently needed a good talk with your lover, if that was what he was up to. Karlach called out to you to wait, but you decided to forgo travelling with the group and shouted over your shoulder, ‘We’ll be back in a minute or two!’ Thankfully no one followed you after that.

***

Stormshore Tabernacle was quiet after dark, the door was still open, but the priest was gone for the evening. Flickering candles illuminated the now subdued hall, casting shadow and golden light over the faces of the stone gods. You snuck in through the door, closing it behind you and immediately spotted Gale, who hadn’t even noticed your presence. His gaze was transfixed on the carved visage of Mystra and if you hadn’t known better you would have assumed he was hexed or frozen to the spot by a spell. 

‘Gale,’ you murmured, and he jumped, quickly turning around to look at you.

‘Gods, I thought you were-’ he coughed and looked sheepish. ‘Well, I hardly know, an enemy of some sort. Spend half our days fighting that I’m starting to look for them when they aren’t even there.’

You carefully approached the statue and looked up at Mystra. The same electrifying jolt that you had felt when you first visited sent a shiver down your skin, the weave was stronger here with just her depiction alone. It both warmed and cooled you at the same time, made you feel a little dizzy and jubilant with the sweet promise of power. 

‘Not so much an enemy,’ you said, looking at Mystra’s face. Even you wouldn’t admit to being an enemy of a god, that was far too risky and undeniably tempting for a god to put you in your place. ‘But something of a rival I suppose.’

‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘Look you have no reason to fear-’

‘Do I not? Most people would not take kindly to their supposed lover spending the better part of an evening staring at a depiction of their ex-lover.’

‘No, and I understand why you would fear my loyalty, but you need not doubt me. I came here to work out a few things in my head.’

‘A few things you couldn’t talk about with me?’

‘I didn’t want to talk to you about them because I fear I talk about Mystra too much and I didn’t want you to feel like that’s what I always do. But perhaps I should’ve,’ he admitted quietly. 

‘Yes, or at least told me that’s what you had planned to do! And not made everyone in camp keep it a silly little secret.’

He hummed in agreement and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, it does feel silly now. I just… I look at her and I don’t feel how I felt a long time ago. My feelings towards her are complicated, but love doesn’t feel part of it, I don’t feel I can love her anymore. I don’t feel I want to love her anymore.’ He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you were caught between the altar for Mystra and Gale’s firm chest under the warm softness of the velvet cloak he wore. ‘I love you, entirely, completely. You have my heart in the palm of your hand and I can do nothing but beg you to keep it.’

You couldn’t help smiling at his declaration and he seized the opportunity, cupping your face and kissing you. It had been a sweet, gentle kiss at first, but as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hands found your waist, he pressed you up against the altar. He nipped your lower lip, a silent plea to allow him access to your mouth, and you conceded, letting him slip his tongue between your teeth. His hands drifted further down to your thighs and butt and he lifted you up till you were sat on the altar.

Perhaps you should have questioned whether this was a good idea, perhaps you would have advised it not be worth risking the anger of a goddess for momentary pleasure, but the part of your brain the quite frankly couldn’t stand the goddess and what she had done to Gale won out. Let her deal with you fucking her ex-lover, let her deal with the fact that you had stopped Gale from detonating the orb, that he wanted to give you the whole world and his loyalty to her as a worshipper was shaky at best! 

You had already made light work of the laces on his breeches and slipped your hand inside, stroking his already hard cock, pre-cum already slick on your fingers, you ran it down the length and smiled as Gale groaned against your mouth. He pressed hot, needy kisses down your neck. ‘Gods, we shouldn’t do this,’ he muttered, though he didn’t sound very convinced by the suggestion.

‘Do you really want to stop?’ you murmured enticingly and stroked him again, he let out a delightful, tremulous breath he let out as you did. You would’ve stopped if he said no, but instead he scrabbled with the material of the dress you wore, tugging up the skirt till it was around your hips. His fingers easily found your slit and he bit back a groan finding you wet and wanting. Gale trailed them up to your clit and you let out a quiet moan in the temple at the heady rush of pleasure you felt. Perhaps it was all the more delicious and delightful to be doing something so wicked and sinful in a temple of the gods.

He pulled you forwards, closer to the edge of the altar and then went to his knees. You bit back a smile and his eyes gleamed in the half-light. ‘I’ve heard tell that love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling. Consider me a humble worshipper,’ he said and began to kiss up your thigh. 

He reached the apex and kept a tight hold on your legs, pressed his mouth against your slit and began to lap, kissing and sucking on your clit and making you gasp and moan and squirm on the stone table. Your hand knocked off a necklace that someone had left as an offering as you desperately tried to find purchase, even as your head dropped back from the pleasure Gale’s clever, well practised tongue was easily drawing from your body. You would’ve happily let him continue, but you didn’t want to risk being interrupted and your body felt like a taut bow string. 

‘Gale,’ you panted. ‘We can’t… we need to be quick…’

He let out a groan of frustration and drew back a little. His face was flushed and his lips and chin were covered with your slick, even that sent a shiver of desire running through you. 

‘I like taking my time,’ he pouted.

‘And I like not having my pleasure interrupted by a priest who might overhear us and come looking!’

Gale got up and wrapped a tight arm around your waist, kissing you frantically, his fingers dug into the meat of your thighs and he groaned as his cock brushed against your sopping wet clit. You shifted your hips just a little and he easily slipped inside you. Gale let out a quiet moan, his face buried into your shoulder and he bit down, trying to quieten himself as you whimpered at the feel of him. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathed against your neck. ‘You feel so good.’

‘Better than all the heavens and anything Mystra could offer?’ 

He raised his head, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Far better.’ He fucked you hard and fast, hips slamming into yours, his fingers fumbled against your clit, working quickly to bring about your pleasure and it was all you could do to keep one hand gripping the stone altar to stop you from falling back and another hand fisted into the material of Gale’s shirt. The quiet temple was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the soft pants and moans from you both as you rushed to find your pleasure. Until finally Gale let out a rather loud groan as he buried himself to the hilt within you and you felt his release, you shuddered around him as he easily brought you to your own bliss. Your head fell backwards and you saw the cold, stony face of Mystra.

‘Fuck you, you fucking bitch, look at how well he fucks me on your precious little altar,’  you thought in your head, though even after all that you had done you dared not say it aloud. It was petty of you, but truth be told it made you feel good. You both got your breath back and once Gale had tidied himself away, he offered a hand to help you down from the altar.

‘Ah,’ he said, and on turning, you saw you had left a rather sizable wet patch on the stone. Gale lifted his hand, presumably to cast prestidigitation to remove it, but you caught hold of his arm. 

‘Leave it, consider it our offering to her,’ you insisted.

‘Tav,’ he warned. ‘She will not be pleased.’

‘Is she ever? Besides, it’s a little too late for that, and what’s she going to do, stick another orb in you?’

He chuckled and shook his head. Gale gazed at the wet patch for a moment longer, then placed his arm around your waist. You thought he would insist on cleaning it up, but instead he guided you from the temple and you both made your way down the steps and back to camp.

[druizard]

For your Gale x reader one-shots- could you do Gale x f!reader, in any situation that involves f!reader enjoying a long-anticipated hot bath? Perhaps with Gale mildly miffed that he wasn't invited, but gloriously welcome when he arrives?

no pressure if this isn't to your taste. This prompt kinda lends itself to E-rated content, but you can totally keep it SWF too, whatever you prefer.

Oh this is absolutely my taste, anon! Thank you for this prompt!! ♥ I decided to go with post game, married Gale/Reader who pursued the adventurer lifestyle, so I hope that works for you too ^^

Wizard Water Heater

Gale & F!Reader One Shot

Author: Charlee Monstah [Druizard]

Rating: explicit

Words: 1,963

Read on AO3!

Excerpt:

“I can't wait to sit down,” you sigh, shifting balance from one foot to another, trying to displace the radiating pain.

“I know, my love, soon,” Gale chuckles, brushing your dirty hair out of your face. After spending the last 48 hours thoroughly exploring an ancient crypt, both of you were elated to find a nice tavern in the nearby village.

“Sorry for the wait!” A little blue kobold sang as she hopped on top of the tavern's front counter. She hands a brass key to Gale, along with a piece of parchment, listing off the tavern's services. “Here is your room key! We have lots and lots to eat and drink! Make sure you try the chef's special!”

“Oh, I'm so hungry, I could eat a basilisk!” You say, turning to Gale and grabbing his hands in yours. “Honey, do you think you could get us something to eat? Maybe a bottle of wine for our room?”

“If the lady wishes to have tasty treatos brought to her dwelling, sir is more than welcome to place an order with the bartender!” The friendly kobold points towards a crowded dining room, where a long line of people stood waiting to speak with the bartender.

“Alright,” Gale sighs, wanting nothing more than to sit down, but he knows how tired and sore you are as well. “Go take our things up to the room and put your feet up, my love. It looks like there's a line, so I'll meet you in the room after I give them our order.” He hands you his pack and plants a tender kiss on your lips before watching your backside as you walk away.

Continue reading on AO3!

[loviatarsluv-old]

hey there! I saw your post about asking for little blurb requests :) what about one where they’re bathing in the river?

hiiii omg okay so since you didn't specify which character, i'll just pick one hehe this is one of my fav "tropes" i guess if you wanna call it that so i was pumped for this one!!

so sorry for the late post, I took my time w this one bc I love romantic soft fluffy gale stuff ♡︎

Gale x AFAB f!tav / AFAB f!reader

rating: mature (fluff and really romantic sweet smut^.^)

It had been at least a tenday since the last time you or any of your companions had been afforded the luxury of a bath, having been on the road and traveling the road to Baldur's Gate for days and not coming across a single stream or lake somehow.

You’d been craving a thorough bath since the battle with Ketheric Thorm and the rest of the cultists at Moonrise Towers - you swore you’d never be able to get all the blood and grime out of your hair at this rate. It started to affect your functioning and already completely erratic sleep schedule, as all you could think about was the blood under your nails and the layer of grime and dried viscera on your skin.

Not to mention, you’d barely been able to be physically affectionate with Gale without disgusting yourself. That alone was making it nearly impossible to think straight.

He insisted that it was fine and that he didn’t mind, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to want to do anything intimate in this state. This was far beyond just having not bathed for a few days and having a natural musk (which Gale has made very clear that he very much enjoyed) - and you were nearly at your wits end.

So naturally, when Halsin notified the group that he found a river that flowed into a small lake while he was hunting in wild shape, you were the first to claim first turn bathing. The group all groaned in protest - particularly Astarion who’d been just as, if not more perturbed about his begrimed state and stained clothes - everyone else longing to have a moment of reprieve and refresh before whatever awaited you in Baldur’s Gate.

There was a resounding sigh and eyeroll (apart from Halsin) from the group as Gale offered to accompany you, after Halsin suggested bathing in pairs for safety purposes. Your companions had not been exactly quiet about their annoyance toward you and Gale’s blatant displays of affection since your night together under the stars in the Shadow Cursed Lands - you and Gale joked with each other that they were all likely just jealous and pent up, so to speak.

You were the first to slink off toward the river, barely able to contain your excitement towards finally feeling clean again. Gale ran to his tent to grab the lavender soap he found while exploring that he’d been saving for himself (and you) as well as a couple of cloth towels that he washed and asked Astarion to sew up the tatters and tears in.

You essentially stripped yourself almost entirely bare before even getting close to the water’s edge, leaving a trail of garments and belts and boots behind you as you ambled up to the shore.

The air was crisp and the breeze was comfortably cool, the reflection of the moon shone and shimmered across the water surface. It almost felt unreal, like it was a mirage after one too many days without fresh drinking water. The only way you were able to confirm that you weren’t dreaming was by wading into the placid waves and laying back, allowing yourself to float.

You let out a breath that it felt like you’d been holding for days and closed your eyes, your body gently drifting as you lazily moved your arms and legs with no destination in mind. This was the most relaxed you’d been in months (and probably would be for the foreseeable future), and you intended on enjoying every second.

Gale finally approaches the shore, nearly dropping everything in his hands when he catches sight of you peacefully floating on your back, your bare skin pebbling and glistening in the pale moonlight. His gaze trains on your breasts, your nipples peaked from the cool breeze hitting your wet skin. He’d been missing your body and being close to you terribly since the last time the two of you had been intimate, and just the sight of you this way was almost too much for his heart (and loins) to bear.

He wades out into the water to join you, soap in hand. You only notice his presence by the overwhelming scent of lavender filling your senses. Your eyes slowly open, and your jaw nearly drops.

Just as he’d been transfixed by your body, you found yourself sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of his - water up to his waist, hair tied back in a half updo with small strands falling over his face, the blue reflection of the water shining on his chest and skin. He was easily one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, and you thanked whatever gods you could every morning that you woke up beside him.

“You are so beautiful,” He smiles, bringing his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close to his chest. “Even I’m finding it hard to conjure the proper words to describe your beauty.”

You giggle, pressing your face against his chest and listening to his slightly hastened heartbeat.

“To render the great Gale of Waterdeep speechless is a feat not many have accomplished, it's an honor.”

He chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He begins to rub gentle circles on your back with the bar of soap, and you feel all the stress you’d been holding on to slowly release, if only just for tonight.

“Yet you manage to make it a regular occurance,” he hums, bringing his free hand up to caress your jaw.

A peaceful and comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you listen to the songs of the night - the sound of the water as it kisses the edge of the shore, the breeze through the trees and surrounding grass, the chirping and singing of whatever nocturnal creatures lurked nearby as they begun their day. You listen to his soft breathing and his heart as it thrums steadily in his chest, and the way he hums and sighs when you pepper delicate kisses around his shoulders, chest, and neck.

He migrates the soap to your arms, cradling your hand in his when he holds them up to thoroughly coat you and massage the dirt and grime from your skin. He takes his time, not a single inch of you left uncared for. He brings his hands to cup your breasts, smoothing bubbles over them and lightly pinching their peaks, eliciting a moan from you and instantly sending heat straight to your core.

To your slight dismay, he moves on, continuing his prior ministrations by rubbing the soap across your belly, then pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips when he notices your smile falter at his attention being directed there. His eyes meet yours, full of nothing but pure adoration - he thinks the world, the moon, and all of the stars of you, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t show you that at every opportunity. He believes he’s found heaven within you, your body being a perfect vessel worthy of pious devotion.

“Doing okay, my love?” He asks, breaking away from the kiss.

You nod, breath hitching as you feel your heart pounding against your ribs. “Okay is an understatement.”

He smiles widely, pleased to know that you were enjoying yourself. He knew that the last few days had been particularly hard on you and all he wanted was to see you finally relax - you deserve nothing less.

“I’ve missed you deeply.” He sighs, leaning his head onto your shoulder and kissing it, the rough texture of his beard tickles you when he does.

“We’ve slept together every night for weeks now, darling,” You giggle. “But I know, I’ve missed you, too. It's nice not to be repulsed by my own skin for a change.”

You reach for his hand that held the soap, only for him to move it away from your grasp. “Ah ah, I’m not quite finished.”

A deep red blush creeps to your cheeks as you quickly catch on to what he’s referring to, the heat that had slowly been coiling in your gut starting to burn ever hotter. You clench your thighs together on pure reflex, your body chasing any sort of friction to soothe the ache that had begun between your legs.

He notices and tenderly pushes his hand between your legs to part your thighs, pressing a longer and more meaningful kiss to your lips while lazily stroking the inside of your thigh with two fingers.

“May I?” He asks, stopping his fingers just at the top of your thigh.

You nod fervently, your eyes full of desperation.

He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, his deft fingers moving to gently massage your folds for just a brief moment before replacing them with the bar of soap. The feeling of the soap versus his fingers is like comparing a pebble to gold.

Gale was a fast learner, and in the few weeks since the two of you had become intimate with each other, he had become a consummate expert when it came to your body. He learned every little maneuver that would have you a moaning and whimpering wreck. You’d never been with a lover that managed to make foreplay nearly as pleasurable, sometimes even more, than actual sex. You’d also never been with a lover quite as generous as Gale - sometimes it even seemed he enjoyed pleasuring you more than anything else, as he’d spend hours with his head between your thighs without a single complaint.

So to only get a brief taste of what you knew was exactly what you needed, was torture.

You whine when he moves his fingers away, jutting out your bottom lip into a pout.

“I know, love. Just be patient a little longer for me,” He coos, caressing your cheek in an attempt to soothe you while he finishes cleaning you.

You contain yourself for the time being - resorting to holding your breath and clutching on to his shoulder for dear life, trying your best to be patient, because you knew that he was well worth the wait.

He finally finishes, brushing against your aching and throbbing sex with the soap one last time for good measure, then hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you breathe, your shoulders sinking as you release the air you’d been holding for a little too long as you’d started to feel lightheaded. “For taking care of me.”

“Thank you for allowing me to.” He says simply. Ever the gentleman.

He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, his hands resting on your lower back at the crest of your ass cheeks, your hands tangling into his chestnut and silver streaked locks. You let one hand rest on the nape of his neck, holding him to you to extend the kiss as long as you can, wishing you could just stay this way for the rest of your life.

When the kiss finally breaks, you motion for him to turn around so that you can lather his back. He slowly turns, seemingly reluctant to take his eyes off of you.

You’ve seen Gale naked plenty of times now, but you hadn’t realized how rarely you’d seen his bare back. And seeing it this way - wet and glistening under the silvery light of the moon, flexing as he adjusts so you can reach his shoulders properly - it was mouthwatering. There wasn’t a single part of his body that you hadn’t found yourself in awe of.

Once you lather his back fully, he turns to face you once more, his once content gaze now full of unbridled desire. Your breath catches, but still you try to continue and massage the soap onto his chest, then his stomach, letting your fingertips graze the dark trail of hair as your hand moves down.

His hand travels down to your sex once again, this time, fully intentional with his movements as he presses his fingertips to the sensitive bud. Your body jolts involuntarily in response, a gasp escaping your lips. He hums, slowly massaging along your folds, his finger edging just at your entrance but not dipping in. You try to maintain, rubbing circles of soap into the same spot for too long before you notice and move on to a different area. He grins widely, now seeing this as a game - a game he intended to win.

He leans his face forward to press a wet kiss to your jaw, leaving enough space between your bodies so you can continue to lather him. Your arm stills for a moment, your mind starting to go blank with every swipe against your throbbing cunt and his tongue brushing against your neck.

You’re trying your damnedest to keep strong, determined to ensure that he receives the same amount of care that he’d shown you, but he seems equally as determined to distract you from your efforts.

A loud moan tumbles from your lips as his finger gently pushes into you, your hips bucking against him, causing his palm to rub against your clit. He grunts, his hardened cock pressing into your hip as he lurches forward for a better vantage point to plunge his finger into you deeper and deeper.

Your hand flies to grasp his length, gripping slightly tighter than you normally would as he adds a second finger, your hand clenching tightly onto him in response. He sucks a breath through his teeth, a low rumbling in his chest that almost resembles a growl following it. You pump his cock in tandem with him pistoning his fingers in and out of you, the sound of the water splashing with your movements mixing with each of your moans and heavy panting.

You feel yourself creeping up on the edge, your orgasm imminent if he keeps up this pace. He can tell that you’re close by the way your walls clench around his fingers. You quicken the rhythm you were stroking his cock at, his hips jutting forward into your hand.

“Wait, wait,” he breathes, placing his hand over yours to stop you. “If you keep that up, I won't last much longer.”

You bite your lip, peering up at him through your lashes. “I want to make you come.”

His eyes widen slightly, his chest heaving. “Not like this. I need to have you, my love.”

You feel your walls clench around his fingers again just at his words, now desperately wishing it was his cock instead.

“Please,” you whimper, pulling his body closer so that your chest presses flush against his, his hand still between you, fingers still gently curling and thrusting into you.

“I want you to come first, love. Can you do that for me?” He purrs, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words alone push you right back up to the edge of the peak, your legs start to tremble and your fingers dig into his shoulders for support while you feel your body becoming mush from his touch. You roll your hips into his hand erratically, your hips stuttering as you get closer and closer, your vision turning white.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

Your head falls back and you cry his name over and over as you finally reach the peak, tumbling over the edge into free fall. His hand cradles the back of your head, his thumb gently stroking the side of your neck to coax you through your orgasm. You feel your entire body shake as you come down, and you thank the gods that you were waist deep in water otherwise you might’ve collapsed into a puddle on the floor. Not that Gale would let you fall, likely he’d scoop you up in his arms and carry you to bed before you could.

Your head slumps forward once again, resting against his shoulder as you try to catch your breath. You bring your hand up to trace the circular marking of the orb in the center of his chest, fingertips tracing the dark lines that trail out of it, stretching all the way to his eye. His eyes flutter closed at your gentle caresses, and he presses his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back.

“If I could only live within a single moment for eternity, I think I’d choose this moment with you under the moon’s gaze.”

His brown eyes meet yours, almost seeming to sparkle as he speaks, every single word wrapping around you and enveloping you in a warmth that you thought only the sun could provide.

Gale was the sun. He was the rain after a drought. He was the forgiving breeze on a scorching hot day.

“I love you.” Is all you can manage to say, unable to form the proper words to express to him how truly and utterly besotted you were.

Your lips collide once again, and you hope that the kiss tells him everything you couldn’t with words. This was the kind of kiss that people go to war for, the kind of kiss you’d die to experience just once.

His hands greedily roam your body, claiming each inch of it as his with just a touch of his fingertips. His hands move to cup your ass cheeks, lifting you and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel his hand reach under you to take hold of his cock, preparing it for you. You snake your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly so he tilts his head back. Your lips and teeth waste no time finding his sweet spot, surely leaving marks that will be there in the morning. You taste a mixture of the soap, the lake water, and the natural saltiness of his skin. He whimpers slightly when you bite just a little harder, with more intent.

Unable to hold back a second longer, he lines the swollen head of his cock up at your entrance, waves of electricity shooting through you when you feel him slowly start to slip in.

You almost swear it’d hurt less if he just slammed home - the way you were throbbing and aching for him was nearly unbearable.

But Gale has never been hasty. He takes his time, he calculates his every move, he’s deliberate.

You’ve had sex with Gale several times now at this point, but every time your body still has to adjust to him, and he’s aware of that. He moves slowly not only for your comfort, but also so that he’s able to savor every inch of you as he buries himself into your warmth.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this,” he breathes, his grip on your ass tightening as he finally bottoms out, the head hitting just the right spot.

“Gods, I hope not,” is all you’re able to choke out before he begins a torturously slow rhythm with his thrusts, every inch of him stroking your still sensitive walls from your prior orgasm.

Your legs tighten around his waist as you cling onto him for dear life, and the rest of the world fades away. There’s no tadpoles, no Absolute, no cultists — there’s only the two of you wrapped in each other's embrace, and the moment feels infinite.

His hand tangles into your still dripping wet hair, droplets flinging from it onto your back as he fists it, sending goosebumps racing across your flesh. He breathes heavily, murmuring random assortments of curses and your name under his breath as his pace picks up ever so slightly, his conviction to take it slowly, faltering.

You feel yourself approaching the brink again as he speeds up.

“Gale, please, I’m—“

“I know, my love, me too.” He moans, now slamming into you with a reckless abandon, all control he’d had previously now washed away with the tide and your pleading.

He finishes with one last stuttering plunge into you, the warm sensation of his spend flooding you and his cock throbbing sending you over the edge along with him. He stays in you while you both come down, chests heaving and hearts racing.

“I love you, too. With every beat of my heart.” He says after a long and comfortable silence, pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes.

You stay there for a few minutes longer, embracing, kissing, joking about pruney fingers and how much shit your companions were going to give you when you returned.

When you both emerge from the water, Gale grabs one of the towels and wraps it around your body first, rubbing your arms to warm you as a shiver passes through you. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, then wraps the other towel around his waist. You gawk at him for a moment, and you think you could easily go for a round two if you weren’t entirely drained from the day prior to your bath… activities.

As you walk back to camp hand in hand with him, a true and genuine smile plastered on your face that you weren’t sure you’d ever smiled before, you feel a sort of selfish gratefulness. You feel as though the cosmos aligned just perfectly to drop him into your life, even amidst absolute mayhem and turmoil. Even if nothing came of the months spent adventuring and battling cultists and searching for cures, you still had this - you had him. And he, you.

And you think to yourself - even if you died tonight, you’d die happily knowing you got to spend a moment under the warmth of his sun.

————

god I love gale so much

[chaoticbardlady99]

Twists and Turns (Astarion x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion initially rejected you and you turn your attentions elsewhere- to his surprise.

By the time Astarion realizes his feelings for you- it’s too late. You and Gale are happy together and Astarion would never ruin that for you, but sometimes fate surprises us. Especially Astarion- who never thought he’d see Gale as a hero.

CW: Character death, angsty?, fluffy, crotch goblins (children)

Pairings: Gale Dekarios x F! reader and Astarion Acunin x F! reader- also some dadstarian

✨lightly edited✨

Author note: I was inspired by @thedomesticanthropologist post regarding an unconventionally attractive Tav. I didn’t really touch on it too much, but it is apart of the story to an extent. Please be kind because my writer’s anxiety has been so bad I almost deleted my blog entirely 🫣

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 💜

Photo belongs to @venenum-cadaverinus on Tumblr

By the time Astarion had fallen in love with you- it had already been too late.

Oh he flirted with you, called you beautiful when he believed you weren’t much to look at, and then you had come up to ask if he would want to go look at stars with you the night of the Tiefling party. Astarion couldn’t get himself to even pretend he wanted to indulge in you. He assumed you were only wanting to sleep with him and he was not about to sleep with you just because you asked. Astarion no longer has to do anything anyone asks of him.

“I have standards.”

Your face falls and the book of Astronomy in your hand nearly slips.

“Oh- I,” you clear your throat, “I’m sorry to have bothered you then.”

He had rolled his eyes when he came back from being with whatever Tiefling woman he had approached- you had been crying quietly in your tent.

Astarion found the whole thing unattractive and well, really he found you unattractive. Astarion has a preference for traditionally beautiful people and you would never be that. You would surely get over it eventually and if he’s lucky, you’ll just be an annoying kicked puppy who will do anything for him like you have been since he met you.

So, for whatever reason, Astarion assumed everything would go back to normal the next day and the two of you would fall back into the usual routine- he sits and reads while you eat breakfast in the mornings, he talks about whatever book he is reading, you ask him questions about himself, and then you go about your days separately until going through the same motions for dinner. Astarion fights next to you and you protect each other. You are smitten with Astarion and he has you wrapped around his pinkie finger like he wanted.

So imagine his surprise when you don’t come out for breakfast or dinner at all- at least not to sit with him. All of a sudden, Gale is with you all the time. He had seen the man come up to you while you were holding your book and he hugged you- the wizard even glared at Astarion while he was doing it.

Astarion upped his game after that, but nothing he said ever reached you anymore. He’d call you beautiful and he’d watch you visibly flinch. He asked you to go to bed with him and you told him no- you wanted to be with someone who thought you were special and beautiful. Astarion said he does think that. You got angry with him and told him to stop lying- go back to “having standards”. Your anger stung and he knew it was justified, but the little pieces of your trust he could get eventually blossomed into a friendship. Only, now he wanted more and Astarion was entirely infatuated with you.

He had decided to tell you how he felt one night before the descent into the Shadow Cursed Lands, but you were quickly swept away by Gale the moment Astarion tried to come talk to you.

Gale was dragging you off somewhere very specific and when Astarion let his nosiness get the best of him- it dawned on him that he had truly lost you 2 months ago when he had said what he said.

You peer through a telescope excitedly, telling Gale about all your favorite constellations and why. He shares his own knowledge with you and you are wide eyed, fascinated- leaning in to hear more. Gale’s own lips hover over yours and the two of you are smiling at each other widely. Astarion thinks he’s going to throw up when Gale kisses you- not because he’s disgusted, but because it occurred to him that he might have thrown away the only person who actually gave a shit about Astarion enough to love him and he broke your heart. Fitting that he is the one hurting now.

Maybe that’s really all you had wanted- to share something you love with Astarion. You wanted to feel like he gave a shit about you too and he said, “I have standards”!? What in the hells is wrong with him!?

The part of him- the less prideful part- wishes he had gotten to see you this way for him. Why did he spend so much time focusing on you knowing him? Why didn’t he take the time to see you this way? Know you this way when you wanted him.

Gale said something that made you laugh heartily as he brushed stray hair from your face, his hands gripping your hips, and you gasped when he kissed you again. The sound fills Astarion with warmth, but makes him feel sick at the same time. That should be him with you, not Gale.

You went from being plain, unattractive and uninteresting to the single most beautiful individual he has ever met. Astarion found himself hanging onto your words (even the angry ones) and yearning to be next to you.

You continued to do your dance with Gale while Astarion continued his own dance with you. When you threaten that horrible Drow on his behalf, Astarion has to accept it- he has well and truly fallen for you.

Astarion decided he would tell you when you got back from whatever excursion you were on with Gale. He had to at least try. Besides, what could Gale possibly show you in the Shadow Cursed Lands?

Only it had been too late- neither one of you came back for hours and when you did, the two of yours’ scents were mingled so closely together he could barely distinguish you from Gale. You began sleeping in the man’s tent, holding his hand during meals, exchanging kisses, etc.

Astarion, on the other hand, had taken the unofficial title of ‘best friend’. It had stung quite a bit, but he happily took whatever scraps you could give him. It was hardly scraps though- Astarion feels emotionally cared for, protected, and respected by you at all times. Besides, Astarion has a feeling that, if anything happened between you and Gale, there was a very good chance for Astarion to take over that space in your heart again.

The love test at the circus proved it- you had been more compatible with Astarion than Gale. Thankfully you had gone at separate times (Astarion and Gale have since become friendly enough so Astarion doesn’t have to worry about losing you). You had avoided Astarion’s eyes while Gale boasted about the Love Test results.

You had been the first one to wake up and attack his siblings when they had tried to kidnap him. Astarion had never seen you look that angry before in the entire time he has met you- you were even angrier than when Araj had pestered him.

You admitted to Astarion later that day that you hadn’t been sleeping well- you were worried about Cazador or his siblings showing up and that you wouldn’t get there in time. It had been haunting you since the minute you stepped foot in Rivington.

When he finally did face Cazador, it was with you at his side and when he finally killed the man- you didn’t deny Astarion the hug he begged you for telepathically. You held him up as he sank against you and you said soothing words- you told him how proud of him you were. You still reminded him everyday after when he expressed doubt.

Astarion was certain he would watch you grow old with Gale and have a family. So Astarion promised himself that he will love you dutifully regardless and protect you and your family like you have protected him. When you pass? He isn’t sure what he will do then, but he has eternity to be without you and Gods only knows long to be around you.

Until the Wizard of Waterdeep just had to throw him a curve ball the night before the battle against the Netherbrain.

Astarion was sitting by the roaring fireplace as he tried not to make it obvious to Gale that he’s silently pining for you. You were laughing and telling jokes with Karlach and Wyll- Shadowheart joining in and eventually Lae’zel. Your laughter is probably one of Astarion’s favorite sounds.

Only because he doesn’t know what you sound like moaning underneath him.

“You love her.”

Astarion’s train of thought broke and he gawked at the Wizard.

“I-um,” Astarion cleared his throat, “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression. Obviously I’m looking at…”

Actually now that he’s looked over there, none of them were believable enough for him to get out of this one.

“Yes- yes fine. I love her,” Astarion scowls, “you won, I love her and get to watch you live a whole life with her. Congratulations.”

“Astarion- I didn’t say that because I want to rub it in your face. I’m saying it because I have a favor to ask- for Tav’s sake.”

Astarion felt himself freeze. He was silently praying that Gale wasn’t going to tell him to stay away from you- to walk away and never come back after the events of tomorrow. It would be the thing that kills Astarion.

“Okay,” he says wearily, “I’m listening.”

“We all know it’s possible that some of us won’t be leaving this journey alive tomorrow.”

Is he suggesting you might die tomorrow? Astarion still stays right next to you during fights- no one even gets within an inch of you if he can help it.

“If it comes down to it and I need to use my orb,” Gale says solemnly, “I need you to take Tav and run- I don’t care if you need to drag her, cast sleep on her, anything as long as it’s painless.”

Astarion stared at the man blankly. He’s asking Astarion to drag you away as you watch your boyfriend sacrifice himself for the sake of the greater good of humanity.

“Why- why are you asking me? And not Karlach or-“

“Because I know you won’t tell her that I’m considering it as an option,” Gale said before adding, “and I am very aware that she loves you too. She’s going to need you if I die.”

“Need me?,” Astarion laughs in disbelief, “Gale, I broke her heart and I’m about to lose the only way I can walk in the sun tomorrow. It would be stupid of her to-“

“No, it would not,” Gale frowns, “she loves you, Astarion. Stop pushing her away.”

“You aren’t dead yet, Wizard,” Astarion said with an edge to his tone, “there is still a possibility that there is a Dekarios wedding in the foreseeable future.”

Gale smiled sadly at Astarion.

“That is the hope- is it not?” Gale got up to join you and the others, “you’ll remember that you deserve to be loved for her- won’t you?”

Astarion watched the man walk off like he hadn’t just dropped a massive bomb onto Astarion’s world. He watched as you smiled brightly at Gale and your hands intertwined with his.

But he also caught you looking over at him with a welcoming, pleading smile. Astarion smiles back and joins- hoping that he won’t be part of the reason that smile fades ever again.

*******************************

Gale looks at Astarion- they are losing. Tav is hurt, but still trying to sling spells and cantrips. Karlach and Wyll are becoming cornered quickly, Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. Even with all of the support they brought and it still wasn’t enough.

You bastard, Astarion telepathically says to Gale, you really are going to make me the bad guy, huh?

Ha!, Gale thinks sadly, you have it turned around. It has been a privilege to know you, Astarion. Take care of Tav for me.

Same to you, Gale- I promise she’ll be safe.

Gale announces to everyone they need to leave. You run towards Gale screaming for him to stop- that he doesn’t have to do this, but Astarion intercepts you.

“ASTARION- PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW,” you scream while slamming your fists into his back, struggling to make him release you, “PUT ME- GALE PLEASE- I LOVE YOU!”

Gale smiles at you with all the love in the world.

“I love you too, Tav. Always and forever.”

Gale casts a spell and like that- they are on the docks. You are screaming and throwing magic- desperate to get back to Gale as Astarion holds you close to his chest.

“I hate you!” You scream as you push Astarion weakly, “ I… I-“

You look at him pitifully and Astarion’s heart aches with yours. Astarion pulls you back towards him in a tight hug and holds you. You sob into his chest and hold him back with equal ferocity.

Astarion’s ability to comfort you only lasts about five minutes before the sun begins to burn him again and Karlach is dying- Wyll convinces her to go to Avernus with him. Astarion races to the shadows- certain that he is about to go into the darkness alone as he hides behind the crates.

He cradles his burning hand to his chest and hisses through the pain. Astarion doesn’t register the frantic footsteps approaching him.

“ASTARI- oh my Gods.”

He looks up at you in disbelief as you get down to your knees next to him and begin pulling out healing scrolls, potions, anything you can think of that might help.

You stay next to him until it’s time to move to a different set of shadows and you stay with him every moment afterwards.

You spend the next 6 months together starting your search for a Ring of the Sunwalker in the Underdark- successfully assassinating a very powerful Drow Priestess for it right before Wither’s party.

When you head back to Baldur’s gate together- Astarion sells all of Cazador’s shit and his castle. He invites you to live with him and you pick a house together.

Your emotions have been foreign and not easy for Astarion to handle over the last 6 months and even a year after moving in together, but he thinks about how crazy he would feel if you had also died that day and so he has weathered every storm you throw at him.

Astarion sits as you angrily rant about how unfair it was for him to make that decision without you. You wanted a choice, some kind of say, and you even occasionally just screamed at Astarion for preventing you from staying with him.

This continues even after the party that Wither’s throws. Tara adored you just as Gale had predicted and his holograph healed a piece of you, but now your grief is all consuming. You lay in bed for days on end and you stop eating or even coming out of your room. Scratch lays next to you dutifully until Astarion takes him out to use the restroom. They have to disguise the poor dog as a cat, but he doesn’t seem to mind very much.

Astarion lets you sit and do what you need to do, but after day 10, he finally needs to help you feel like a person again- in whatever way he can. So he runs you a bath and he helps you numbly walk towards it. It’s been about 30 minutes since he left you upstairs. He considered offering to help you, but he wasn’t sure if that would be crossing a line.

You walk downstairs moments later and quietly say his name. Astarion looks up at you and smiles- you took a bath.

“Well, well, look at you,” Astarion teases, “you sure clean up nicely.”

You laughed hoarsely at his joke and sat next to him. Astarion doesn’t move- he wants to pull you into his lap, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries.

“Can- would you-,” you choke on the lump in your throat, “would you hold me, please?”

Astarion’s face softens as you begin to sniffle and your shoulder begins to shake with the sobs you are trying to hold back.

“Of course, Darling.”

You crawl into his lap and you lean the side of your head against his unbeating heart. Astarion just goes back to reading his book, enjoying the comfortable silence and how your body finally seems to have relaxed. You’d been so tense for the last two years- constantly on the verge of breaking in half, but he knows how resilient you are. He knows your strength and he knew you would get out of it eventually- even if only for a little while at a time.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice sings through the air and is like music to his ears. You sound like you again- tired and still a little melancholy- but you nonetheless.

“Well, Darling, I thought it might be worth learning about some of this astronomy nonsense a little over a year ago so we could talk about it when you felt better,” Astarion says, trying to say it as nonchalantly as possible, “I’ve come to really enjoy the topic.”

You beam at him and it’s the first time he’s seen a smile reach your eyes in what feels like eons. You quiz him, correct him, you tell him everything over the ‘stars’ and then some as you so horribly said. Astarion can’t help but find the moment to be so bittersweet.

He finally had the moment he wanted with you, but he didn’t think a single moment would cost a life.

************************************

“Elanora! Gale! Get back here you little-“

The twins giggle as they run from Astarion around the house. He understands what people mean by terrible twos now.

It’s been a little over 10 years since Gale died. In that time- Karlach had her engine fixed and five years ago, you found a Wish scroll for Astarion. Being a living breathing human again was a very difficult adjustment for the first two years. It’s been 3 years now and it’s not as difficult, but he did forget about the whole pregnancy thing.

It had been a massive shock when you fell pregnant a few months after you and Astarion had gotten married a little over two years ago. Astarion had been so focused on the proposal being perfect that it took longer for him to ask than he wanted.

You giving birth was probably the most terrifying experience of his life and you very well almost died, but by some miracle, you lived through the gruesome endeavor. He gives his thanks to Shadowheart, Isobel, and Dame Aylin. Astarion suspects Gale might have had a hand in it too because you had been out cold, but woke up with tears in your eyes and told Astarion that A. Gale says hello and B. how dare he think you’d just abandon two children with him like that. You are responsible “dammit!”

Astarion is so grateful you didn’t die giving birth to his children. He loves the little crotch goblins to death, but you are the only one they really listen to. You always tell him it’s because he gives in- Astarion argues “how could I not!? Have you seen them!? They are adorable!”

Scratch tried to help him initially after you left to go spend time with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel at Elfsong Tavern. The poor dog didn’t last much longer than Astarion- hiding under the bed from the monstrous toddlers that are definitely from his gene pool.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind saying n-“

“They are my children, Darling,” he said all too confidently, “I can handle time alone with my children!”

Evidently there is a difference between handling and surviving- Astarion would consider himself trying to survive. He should have taken Halsin’s offer to hang out- maybe the twins would listen to their Uncle more than him.

Astarion eventually caught them, bathed them, read them a book, and got them to bed. The minute Gale fell asleep around 11:30 pm was the same time you came home.

Astarion came down the stairs and you began to laugh as quietly as you could behind your hand. He leers at you playfully.

“Did you have fun, my Star?” You tease.

“Once I finally caught them- yes,” he says flatly.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“Let’s go to bed- then you can tell me all about it and I’ll tell you all the hot gossip Karlach has heard from Wyll about the upper class in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Will it be in the paper tomorrow?”

“Oh yes,” you grin widely, “ oh yes it will.”

Astarion loves when you come back from meeting with Karlach- he always knows what’s happening before it even happens. It means he gets to watch everyone else be scandalized which is usually 1,000 times more entertaining than the gossip itself. One time- the paper had been so explicit that the next door neighbor (an elderly woman) quite literally died of shock after reading about an affair the Magistrate had with the Duke. Apparently she was a hard core supporter of the wives and never anticipated such ugly men to cheat on their wives (you may have found him using a talk to the undead spell on the poor woman).

You fall asleep faster than you anticipated- at least that’s what Astarion thinks. The moment you lay your head on his chest is the same moment you slowly, softly begin to snore as he tells you about the evening. You chuckle when he says he is going to need help cleaning up the water in the bathroom tomorrow.

These are the nights that Astarion finds himself looking up to the heavens and smiling sadly- thanking Gale for his sacrifice, for giving Astarion a life he never thought he would ever have.

Most importantly, he thanks Gale for you. For letting go of what future he could have had with you. For not asking you to stay and die with him.

Gale Dekarios is the only reason Astarion Ancunin believes in heroes at all.

[soulessjourney]

You're Alive

Paring: Spawn!Astarion x fem!DurgeReader

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: As the urge begins to consume Tav, she finds herself reliving some of her most brutal killings, with Astarion forced into a struggle to keep her from succumbing completely.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Near character death, Talk of killing, Tav has to fight herself in a mental essance, Duel POV

Your life had finally found peace. No longer did you feel the urge to tear apart everyone you encountered. But why did today feel so different? Something gnawed at the back of your mind, begging for release. You bit down on your tongue, attempting to push back the sharp claws sinking into your consciousness, returning to reality after tasting the metallic tang of blood in your mouth. Blinking, you surveyed the camp, your vision blurred as your head throbbed. Your companions lay sound asleep in their tents, your lover peacefully slumbering beside you in your shared shelter. With a groan, you collapsed to the ground, darkness encroaching on your vision.

You flinched as someone nudged you, the touch lacking the gentleness of your usual companions rousing you after a blackout. Rolling onto your back, you locked eyes with another figure—yourself. A wicked smile stretched across her face as she peered down at you. "Wake up, little bird," she said, your own voice sending shivers down your spine as you struggled to dispel the image before you. Surely, it was a cruel dream, or perhaps a twisted jest concocted by Gale. The figure above you clicked her tongue and brushed your hair aside. "Come now, don't appear so bewildered. You know exactly who I am," she whispered.

Jerking away from her touch, you scrambled to your feet, putting distance between you and the apparition. "I don't know who you are, and whatever sick joke you think you're playing, stop it," you snapped. Deep down, however, you recognized the person standing before you—your past self, fighting to seize control of your body.

She chuckled, closing the gap between you with measured steps. "Well, little bird, I am you. I am the grin that spreads when blood stains your skin. I am the reverie you indulge in, envisioning the demise of every soul you encounter. My dear, I am the pulse quickening with anticipation at the thought of wrapping your hands around your lover's throat," she murmured, her final words a whispered caress against your ear.

You shook your head, her words leaving you stunned. The shock wasn't born of confusion; it was the recognition of truth. "I'm not like you. I'm not as evil as you are. I'm good, I'm improving, and I'm leaving you behind," you declared, your voice tinged with desperation. You realized you weren't trying to convince her; you were attempting to convince yourself that you had outgrown the bloodthirsty killer you once were.

She laughed, the sound echoing through the camp, yet miraculously failing to disturb the slumbering figures. "How do you define good and evil?" she challenged, her gaze raking over you as she circled. "You eliminate those who obstruct your path. Many would argue that's evil, even if you consider it good," she murmured, trailing a finger down your cheek. As you looked at her, you recognized the mirror image of yourself—the same nose, jawline, and attire. The only disparities were in her eyes, hard and lifeless compared to your soft, hopeful gaze. Her eye color, resembling pools of thick, dark blood, put Astarion's red orbs to shame. While your hair was a gentle brown, hers was jet black, streaked with blood-red strands. She was your antithesis, craving violence and pain while you exuded gentleness and love.

"I'm good because I don't slaughter innocents like you do. I don't yearn to feel blood on my skin—not like you. I'm nothing like you, and I never will be," you growled, your eyes hardening as you resisted the urge to recoil from her touch by biting the inside of your cheek.

"Ah, indeed, you're correct. You're the white swan—delicate and gentle—while I'm the despised black swan, vying for dominance and power," she remarked, running her fingers through your hair before gripping it tightly, pulling your head back with a force that threatened to snap your neck. "Why do you hide from me, little bird? Do you blame yourself?" she whispered, her blood-red eyes locking with yours.

Confusion twisted your expression as you looked up at her, feeling your heart race at her question. "What?" you whispered, focusing your gaze on hers.

She released your hair and grasped your face, running her thumbs across your cheeks in a manner that felt condescending. "Well, little bird, it's quite common in this situation to feel a kind of... guilt," she hummed. A twist formed in your stomach as she loomed over you, her gaze igniting a new type of fear within you.

Backing away, you felt sweat gathering in your palms as you listened intently. "What situation?" This was the aspect you struggled with the most—being unable to recall anything about your past, what you had done to others. The only reminders were fleeting flashes of memory when you stood over a lifeless body or closed your eyes.

Her smile dissolved into a mocking frown as she clicked her tongue. "The accident, silly." With that, it felt as though your body was hurtling backward, and your vision faded to black, the last image imprinting on your mind being her wide grin and the murderous delight gleaming in her eyes.

--- Astarion ---

Astarion stirred in the tent, waiting for you to join him. You had been engrossed in a book found during your exploration of the shadowlands. As time passed, a sense of unease began to simmer within him, a blend of worry and fear. Opening the tent flap, he peered out, scanning the camp for any sign of you. Just before retreating into the tent, he spotted you on the ground near the fire, your muscles spasming beneath your skin. Without knowing how he reached you, he found himself kneeling beside you, gently shaking you in an attempt to rouse you. "Tav, wake up," he whispered, nudging you again.

He was on the verge of calling for help when your eyes snapped open, your hand shooting up to grip his throat. Falling backward onto the ground, he gazed up at you, the grip tightening around his throat. Your eyes held no emotion, devoid of life. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw flashes of blood-red eyes, uncertain if it was his imagination or if the person before him wasn't you. Watching as you reached for the knife strapped to your thigh—a gift he had given you after his confession while you lay nestled among the pillows—he sensed something was amiss. This wasn't you.

Placing his foot on your stomach, he pushed you away, sending you stumbling to the ground. The way you rolled across the ground almost made him mistake you for a ragdoll. Astarion quickly rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on you as you lunged toward him. Tackling you to the ground, he pinned you against the earth. "Tav, stop. This isn't you," he whispered, shivering as fear tingled through him. But there was no response from you; instead, you threw him off. From his position on the ground, he watched as you approached, knife in hand, your eyes vacant. "Come back to me, my love," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

--- Tav ---

You found yourself disoriented, surrounded by pitch-black darkness. Moving forward, you navigated through what felt like a fog, your head throbbing painfully. Letting out a strangled scream, you clutched at your temples, bending over in an attempt to alleviate the shattering pain. Collapsing to the ground, your cries intensified as you scratched at your head, leaving marks on your face in a desperate bid to dispel the agony. As a cool hand touched your forehead, your body relaxed, tears welling in your eyes. "Astarion?" you whispered, looking up toward the figure. Your hope dissolved as you recognized it wasn't him. "What do you want?" you spat, narrowing your eyes into a glare.

Your reflection met your gaze with a wide smile. "Oh, don't pretend you're not glad to see me. Without me, you'd be lost here," she remarked, reaching out to grasp your hand gently. Jerking your hand away, you shook your head. "You're close to the city. It would be unfair if I didn't show you how you ended up like this and stripped of all your power," she hissed into your ear, appearing behind you.

The way she moved around you made you feel like prey. She slithered around you like a snake toying with its food, offering hope of escape before striking. "And what if I don't want to know? I already live with blood on my hands from taking the life of an innocent bard. I don't need the knowledge of more innocent lives I've claimed," you mumbled, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground.

"Because you'll have a run-in with our dear sister. Obviously, you don't know who she is, but she doesn't play games when it comes to pleasing our dear father," she spat, her gaze fixed into the distance. Whoever this sister was, you could only assume she had a hand in how you ended up in this situation. You flinched as she yanked you from the ground and spun you until you faced the opposite direction. Before you, the fog shifted and transformed into a scene. There you stood, facing someone you didn't recognize.

"When we were created, we pledged our loyalty to father without understanding. We killed in his name and worshipped him until a new family member emerged and ruined everything we had worked so hard to build. People feared us, and they still do. Our dear sister tries to establish her power in our likeness, but she lacks the control we once had," she hummed, pulling you into the scene.

Your surroundings morphed to match the environment. The scent of blood overwhelmed your senses, and you fought the urge to gag. "Why are you showing me this exactly? Why are you so desperate to make me remember?" you asked, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings. Though unsure of your location, the stone walls surrounding you resembled a temple. Your eyes caught sight of a large skull carved into the walls, and your body trembled with recognition, feeling power surging into you.

"It's vital that you remember. If I can't jog your memories, you'll be forced to face her, and she'll slaughter you in a matter of moments. As much as I enjoy tearing people limb from limb, it's rather difficult when your vessel is killed," she huffed, her gaze locking onto yours. "Now, why don't we relive some of our most cherished memories?" Grabbing your shoulders, you hissed as her nails dug into your skin.

---Astarion---

Astarion scrambled to kick you off him as you swung your arm, knife clutched tightly. "Tav, stop!" he yelled, his voice reverberating around the camp. Astarion had never felt fear like this before, especially when faced with your empty, lifeless gaze. Your movements resembled that of a puppet, leaving him bewildered. Had something affected you just before you left the shadowlands? What was happening to you?

You managed to land a hit on him, sending him flying across the camp. His eyes widened as he saw a sadistic smile spread across your face. "You're going to make such a pretty corpse," you said, your smile appearing unnaturally forced. As you stepped closer, your body was suddenly knocked to the side as someone tackled you to the ground, causing the knife to slip from your grip.

Astarion sucked in a breath as Karlach loomed over you, her eyes wild with rage. He could swear he saw pure fury behind her gaze—the kind that drove people to kill. It quickly shifted to a look of disappointment and concern. "What are you doing, soldier? This isn't you!" she yelled, shaking you by the shoulders. Astarion heard no verbal response, only the loud laughter that escaped you.

"Two pretty corpses. Father is truly going to enjoy this gift," you laughed, throwing your head back before your forehead collided with Karlach's. A violent crack echoed through the air, followed by the sight of blood dripping from the wound on your head where the skin had split. Astarion barely noticed the other companions rushing from their tents toward you. All he could focus on was how you fought each of your companions, a wild laughter reverberating through the camp.

---Tav---

You felt sick to your stomach watching the memories unfold before you. The deeds you had committed made you feel like the very monster you had always tried to escape. She watched your reaction closely, a crooked smile playing on her lips. Witnessing that dark part of yourself revel in the pain you had inflicted on others made you want to vomit. Seeing just what you were capable of reinforced your gratitude for the fresh start you had been given.

She placed her hands on your shoulders and leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. "If you think that's fascinating, you should see your most recent memory," she whispered, the smile evident in her voice as the scene before you shifted.

Your face twisted in confusion before morphing into sheer horror. Unsure if the scream you heard was your own or from one of your companions, you swung your weapon toward them. "Stop! What the hell is wrong with you!" you screamed, struggling in her grasp. You couldn't ignore the sight of Astarion clutching his side, the look of betrayal etched on his face. But behind his eyes gleamed a knowing glint—he understood that this wasn't you. She had deceived you, luring you into this state to attack and harm your family. Rage coursed through you as you clenched your fists, hands trembling.

"Do you smell the fear and betrayal radiating off of them? Look at them, trying to disarm you. They're scared of hurting you. It's pathetic, honestly. I expected more entertainment, considering they're so desperate to rid themselves of that tadpole. They love you so much when they should fear what you truly are. You're a weapon, a pawn of Bhaal, and you'll always bend to his will to please him," she hissed, tightening her grip on your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you squirmed against her hold, attempting to break free from her piercing grip. You could feel her nails digging into your arms, undoubtedly breaking the skin in the process. "That's where you're wrong. I've fought you off for this long; I can fight off Bhaal. I'll never bend to his will. I'll never become what he so desperately wants me to be," you growled, throwing your head back to connect with her nose.

With a howl, she stumbled back, wiping at her face as she narrowed her eyes at you. "Alright, little bird, you want to play? Let's play." You didn't waver in your stance as you turned to face her fully, determined to regain control over yourself and protect your family.

---Astarion---

Something within you shifted, that much he could discern. The way your body tensed, the ripple of muscles beneath your skin, the contortion of your face in agony— it was evident you were at war with yourself. He watched helplessly as your arm bent into an unnatural position. Astarion's every instinct urged him to intervene, to restrain you and assure you that everything would be alright, that the darkness inside you wouldn't prevail. But his resolve wavered when Gale struck you with thorn whip, causing him to freeze. Shooting to his feet, Astarion tackled Gale to the ground with a yell, pinning him down. "What in the nine hells were you thinking? You could hurt her!" Rage surged through him as he glared down at Gale.

Gale shoved Astarion off him, returning a glare. "In case you've forgotten, our dear companion is attempting to kill us. I regret any harm I may have caused her, but our lives take precedence at this moment," he retorted, his expression tense. "We don't know if she'll recover from this, Astarion. We need to protect ourselves."

Astarion snarled, shaking his head, his red orbs fixed on Gale. "If you touch her again, I'll drain you, dry wizard," he spat, moving away from him. His eyes widened as he dodged a silver flash of a blade. Grabbing your wrist, he twisted it until the knife fell to the ground. Embracing you tightly, he lowered both of you to the ground, holding you close. "Come on, Tav. Come back to me, sweetheart," he whispered as you struggled in his grasp.

His arms tightened around you as you thrashed, screams echoing throughout the camp. He could sense the others behind him, ready to intervene if necessary. Holding his breath, he felt a whimper escape your lips as you ceased moving. "I'm scared," you confessed, your voice trembling with vulnerability. This was the Tav he knew and cherished, the one he loved more than anything. Caressing your head, he planted a kiss on the back of it, pulling you closer.

As swiftly as you had calmed, you resumed thrashing in his arms, causing something to crack in his chest. Feeling the sweat on your skin seep through his shirt only added to his distress. If there was a moment in his life he never wanted to relive, it would be this one. Seeing you so broken and tormented tore him apart. You were enslaved by something beyond your control, and it shattered him to witness it. Pressing his forehead against the back of your head, he shut his eyes tightly, gently rubbing your arms. "You're alive. You're alive. You're alive," he repeated softly, hoping his words would bring you some comfort.

---Tav---

Fighting against yourself wasn't what you had envisioned. You weren't even certain if the entity before you was truly yourself. Your own face was no longer recognizable; instead, a grotesque creature stood in your place. The once innocent visage had twisted into something horrifying. Its features contorted into long, pointed teeth, its eyes resembling black pits, seemingly designed to instill fear in its prey before launching an attack. Four arms extended from its sides, while long spikes adorned its back, and a pointed tail swung wildly behind it. Fear spiked in your chest as you beheld the monstrosity before you. This was what you were, what you were capable of.

A loud wail echoed from the creature as it advanced toward you. The darkness within you was terrifying, even repulsive. Flames flickered to life in your hand as you narrowed your eyes. Perhaps this could be the moment you finally triumphed and escaped the cravings consuming you. Casting a fireball, the creature emitted a screech before swiping a hand at you, catching your side and sending you flying backward, blood seeping through your shirt. Emitting a small whimper, you tilted your head back and closed your eyes. The distant sensation of a caress enveloped you, accompanied by faint whispers in your ear.

"You're alive."

You recognized the voice instantly. The fear lacing his tone caused your heart to race. The silent promise behind his words spurred you to open your eyes just as the beast loomed above you, emitting another deafening shriek. Something cool touched your fingers as you unleashed a scream to match the volume of the creature above you. Raising your arms, you pierced its chest, blood splattering your face as you stood, driving the sword deeper. The creature collapsed to the ground, its form morphing back to resemble your own once again. Meeting your own eyes, you grimaced. "You'll never be rid of me. One day, as you lie beside your beloved, you'll feel me seize control of your body, and you'll be powerless to stop me from draining the life of the one you love," she coughed. Coldness enveloped your body as you gazed down at your own reflection. Before you could formulate a response, your vision began to blur, and your body crumpled to the ground.

---

Your eyes snapped open as you sucked air into your lungs, scrambling away from Astarion's grasp. Your hands ran over your torso, searching for any signs of the wounds you had suffered in the brawl with yourself. Wild with fear, your eyes scanned the surroundings, shivering from the sweat covering your body and the adrenaline coursing through you. Looking up, you froze as you felt the gaze of your companions upon you, their faces etched with worry, hands poised to defend themselves if needed. Your bottom lip wobbled as you took in their appearance. "I'm sorry," were the first words that slipped past your lips as you noticed the wounds they had gained from the earlier struggle. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeated, wrapping your arms around yourself and rocking back and forth.

You didn't hear their response, if there was one. Instead, you felt a pair of cool hands touch your arms, causing you to flinch slightly. As you relaxed against the touch, they pulled you toward a chest, holding you tightly against them. "Deep breaths, Tav. We know you didn't mean to. We know it wasn't you," Astarion mumbled. Your sobs echoed through the camp as you clung to him, only for them to intensify as you felt the arms of Shadowheart and a few other companions wrap around you, hugging you with the same intensity as Astarion.

You had lived. You had survived the grueling battle with yourself. You had won.

---Gale---

Gale had chosen to stay behind as he observed the scene unfolding before him. The cut on his arm stung from the earlier attack he had endured from you. Something in the back of his mind screamed at him to flee, to put as much distance between you and himself as possible. He couldn't ignore the way you looked at him from Astarion's shoulder, your eyes shining a bright blood red and a twisted smile spreading across your lips. Gale pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing into a glare. You had never truly won.

[letters-from-dekarios]

sunkissed hearts

chapter one: sandy and danny

summary: you’re starting a new college in europe in the fall and are taking all the time in the summer while in america to live your life to the fullest. while out at a bar one night, you meet a rather handsome man who gives you the best summer of your life. when you start college, your new english professor looks rather… familiar.

or: you spend a summer with gale, only for him to become your professor

word count: 3.8k

tags: college!au, professor!gale x f!reader, brief NSFW, MDNI, charas >20, mild language, themes of alcohol usage, theater kid!jen, artist!astarion, eventually other people will be there i promise

author’s note: i wasn’t intending for this to be a multi-part series, but it got so long & I didn’t want to rush the story, so this is going to be split into a few parts! i’d like to also note I don’t necessarily condone teacher/student relationships in most circumstances but… this fic fits the ones where you can go “okay that’s fair”. enjoy!

“Come on, one more bar!” You encouraged your friends. It was a Saturday night, the city was bustling with life. You were infused with the confidence of seven strippers on a Friday night and six shots of vodka— nothing was stopping you now.

The disapproving, tired looks from your friends begging you to give the night up and return home did nothing to deter you from pushing forward. But, alas, you were always the persistent type. Your whining droned on as you kept trying to persuade them.

“Just let me find a guy to go home with, okay? Then you guys can leave!” You urged them, and they begrudgingly agreed. Well, Jenevelle annoyedly agreed, Astarion was more than happy to keep going for the rest of the night, except he was sleep-deprived and just being a little jerk about it.

“Fine! But if you don’t find someone within the first hour, we’re leaving!” Jen yelled back as you practically skipped into the next bar you had on your list.

You had this idea in your head that the moment you left for college, you’d never be back to this town again. So, with that concept in mind, you aimed to complete your list of top things to do before you moved. This was one of your bucket list items- visit every bar in the city at least once and get a drink. You were making your way through the list pretty fast!

After entering, your friends separated from you, leaving you to walk up to the bar top and order your drink on your own. You started with something simple, a nice wine to get your evening going… even though you were halfway through it.

It wasn’t long before someone else was at your side, a good-looking man, no doubt. The conversation was idle and only lasted a few minutes before you were bored with him. He caught on to your exhaustion and gave up after a while, stumbling away into the rest of the crowd. Frustration brewed within you as you sat in silence conversations flitting around you and not with you. And then this smokey, woody scent stirred around you. You couldn’t tell if it was in your head or reality until you were greeted by a new man who sat beside you.

“Well you look awfully lonely, don't you?” The man joked, smiling at you as he ordered himself a whiskey- neat. You observed him, his features, and you contemplated if this was going to be your ride home tonight.

When he actually turned to you, and you looked at his face fully, you were certain he was the one. He had those eyes that just invited you into a warm hug, one you’d never want to let go of. His expressions were soft and comforting, bringing you a sense of calmness amidst the chaos around you. Even if only for a one-night stand, he would stay in your mind forever. You hadn't even been properly introduced yet, but the aura surrounding him gave way to opinions of him you would soon find as fact.

And he looked like he gave incredible head.

“Hello! The name’s Gale, might I ask yours?” He introduced, extending a hand towards you as he took a sip from his glass.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking his hand. What kind of a man introduces himself at a bar and shakes your hand? Only a gentleman, you concluded. Okay, it was mostly the alcohol in your system talking, taking over your intuitions and ability to see any red flags, but gods did you want him.

And gods did you have him.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Fuck-”How late was it? You couldn’t tell anymore. Your concept of time had long since faded.

He was so goddamn good you just didn’t want it to stop. You kept begging for more, your body completely succumbing to his will. You moved in response to him and him alone, the noises of satisfaction leaving you fueling his desires. Your head tilted back into the silk sheets, your fingers clawing into his shoulders.

“Gods…” you heard him breathe out as he littered kisses down your bare chest. His hands roamed all along your curves, gently grabbing at you here and there, pulling your hips up to him, arching your back, sliding down your thighs… He knew his way around your body like he’d been with you for years.

You could feel the love and the care he put into it, which was an odd thing to think with a guy’s dick that you met mere hours ago in you.

Regardless, the feeling was true. You knew that he wasn’t one of those assholes who would toss you out right after he was done. No, he’d encourage you to stay- maybe even make you breakfast the next morning. He’d let you wear his shirt, even “accidentally” let you take it home. He’d leave his mark on you, and he’d do it with grace and respect. You had never had this with someone before.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

A little while later you were curled up at his side, your head against his bicep as you laid in bed with him. Your hand rested on his chest, tracing the tattoo he had there. You admired him, and he, you. You would let yourself indulge in this… for now. For as long as you could before you’d move away.

“Tell me…” Gale’s sweet, honey-like voice broke the quiet barrier between you two. “You’re much too kind and much too beautiful to be on your own. Are you sure you don’t have anyone special waiting for you back home?” He asked, and though you’d already answered “no” once, this time the question felt different. His thumb rubbed against your shoulder, his arm pulled you in, and you felt safe there, with him. Like you could tell him all your darkest secrets, and he’d listen to them all with no judgement.

“I’m sure,” you answered, looking up at him. You were still so mesmerized by him.

“How long are you here for?”

“Three more months, then I move away.”

“Hm.”

A hush fell between you as his eyes flitted to the ceiling, pondering over your response. You had no idea what he was to say next, but you’d answer wholeheartedly to whatever it was.

“Perhaps you’d like to spend some of that time with me?” He suggested, bringing his eyes back down to you.

This piqued your interest. What could that mean? You had seen from his lavish apartment that he was on the more comfortable side of life, was he willing to share that with you? Was he willing to make your summer memorable?

“Depends on what you mean by that..” you raised an eyebrow, shifting so you sat up. You moved on top of him, straddling his waist as he replied to you.

“You talked about making the most of this summer. You have a bucket list, right?” You nodded your head. “I’d like to help with that if you’d let me,” he offered, placing his hands at your sides.

“Oh? And what do you get in exchange for helping me fuel my crazy plans?” You asked, leaning down towards his face.

“Good company every once in a while. I’d like to hear about your adventures- maybe even partake in a few…” he trailed off, letting your mind wander to what he meant.

“So… you’d be my sugar daddy?”

He laughed, a deep laugh from the abdomen. His eyes squinted, his nose scrunched up, he shook his head… he was so pretty when he laughed.

“In a manner of speaking, you could call it that. I’d rather not, however.”

“You are technically older than me,” you pointed out. Though it was only by, what, ten years? Barely even that.

“Don’t say that! That makes it sound bad!”

“Ooooh… look at you, going after younger women…” you gasped, holding a hand to your chest dramatically. You fanned yourself, shaking your head and tsking disapprovingly at him. He broke your dramatics by flipping you into your back, hovering over you with a faux-stern look in his eye. Giggles broke from you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you.

“Maybe I’ll take back my offer, then,” he threatened jokingly, returning your tsks.

“No, don’t do that…” you pouted, he couldn’t help but kiss you. You returned it, obviously, running a hand through his hair and tugging him closer. You had him already and yet you wanted more.

“I’ll take this as a yes, then?” He mumbled against your lips, trailing them down your jawline and to your neck.

“Yes.” You could barely breathe it out as he distracted your mind with his kisses, his soft hum against your skin an acknowledgment of your response. The night slowly faded away after that, his affection becoming a blur until you finally drifted off to sleep.

You were right, you found out, he was the type to make you breakfast the morning after. Though he didn’t stay, he left a sweet note for you apologizing for not being able to enjoy the morning with you. He even left you cash. Oh, hell yeah, you were doing this.

After enjoying your breakfast, you took down the phone number he had left you, sent him a sweet message, got yourself ready with all the things he had in his apartment (because who wouldn’t?) and went back to your home.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“You will never guess who I met,” you started as you entered through the doorway, dropping your shoes down.

“Henry the eighth?” Jen replied, not bothering to look up from the book she was currently invested in. Theater kids- you despised them at times.

“Gods no, I’d lose my head in two seconds flat,” you snorted, jumping over the couch and landing next to her.

“I don’t know then, who?” She asked, placing a finger in her book and shutting it.

“You remember that guy I went home with last night?”

“The librarian looking dude?”

Astarion came out from his room quickly, running out to join in the conversation. “Is she talking about the one who looked like that Hozier song’s lyrics?”

Jen nodded at him, and you rolled your eyes before continuing. “He was hot! You guys are just mean. Anyways- he took me home, best sex of my life by the way, and guess who has…” you paused dramatically, digging into your bra for the cash he had left you, holding up the wad with a grin on your face, “their very own sugar daddy! Just like I’d always dreamed of,” you sighed wistfully and then broke out in laughter as Jen and Astarion stared at you blankly.

“How old was this guy again?” Jen asked, raising an eyebrow while you swatted away Astarion’s greedy hands.

“Thirty-four— but he was so nice! He said he wanted to aid me in my summer bucket list. He made me breakfast,” You frowned slightly, and they got the hint that you really liked this guy.

“So, basically, you were a prostitute, and now he’s going to hire you for the whole summer?” Astarion asked, making a cheeky face at you.

You grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at him, groaning out. “It’s not like that! You guys are so judgemental!”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Jen raised her hands defensively, but the look she shared with Astarion said more than it needed to.

“No, but you’re thinking it! That’s just as bad!” You threw a pillow at her, and then a fully-fledged pillow fight began in the small living room space. You were laughing then, sure, but a teenie part of you wondered really why he was doing this for you. Did he like you that much? Or was he just using you for your body— were you seriously becoming a prostitute? Gods, you hoped not.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The next few weeks were normal, you’d tell Gale what you were up to, he’d send you some spending money, and you’d catch up with him later. Sometimes it’d be sex, sometimes he just wanted to hear about your day. You got the sense that, despite being so nice, he didn’t have many friends. At least, not any friends nearby, so you elected to keep him company whenever he needed. It became less and less of a business deal the more you got to know him.

A month into your little… transaction, he sent you an image of two tickets to Venice and the dates. You could’ve screamed right there, enthusiastically telling your companions about your upcoming trip. It was a short weekend, sure, but it was the most fun you’ve ever had.

He took you to a little restaurant, your table overlooking the water, one night. A single rose and a candle were placed between you two. It was fancy. You weren’t used to fancy, mostly because you never had the money for it. The only reason why you were moving was to take advantage of the international students program- that was pretty much a paid college ride.

Your parents weren’t exactly rich either, barely scraping by and living paycheck to paycheck when you were younger. The finer things in life consisted of a rare dinner out, usually pizza or Applebee’s, and the occasional gift or two that had a practical use for you. New shoes or a pencil case for school with your favorite character on it— you weren’t the spoiled type, all of this was new to you.

“Get whatever you’d like,” Gale told you, and your eyes hungrily scanned the menu. The prices caught your eye, and you bit the inside of your cheek. You knew he was generous, but some part of you felt awkward taking from him so bluntly like this.

“I think I’ll just get a salad or something…” you said warily, apprehensive about it all. Funny how you were hesitant now, and not when he bought you tickets to Venice. Ironic.

“Oh, please. Humor me, darling. Make my wallet hurt,” he grinned at you from across the table, and you laughed at the comment. Well, now that you had his permission…

“How much can I hurt it?” You asked curiously, eyeing a rather expensive meal on the menu.

“Hm… are you willing to make up the difference later if it’s more than expected?” He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes still trained on the menu.

“When in… Venice,” you chimed back, adjusting the phrase to suit your location.

It was, in fact, more than he expected. But you were sure he’d say that regardless of what you ordered, and you didn’t mind the view of the sunset over Italy as he hit it from behind.

You laughed internally, both out of humor and pity for yourself. You had no idea how you were going to survive once the summer was over and you moved away, not once this whole thing broke off. But, hey, you could, and most definitely would, enjoy it while it lasted.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The rest of the summer was spent similarly, going out and doing adventurous things with your friends, paid for by Gale. Sometimes he’d join you, or take you away on another short vacation and spoil you absolutely rotten with everything he could. You couldn’t be happier, and it felt good for him to use the money he had to help someone live their dreams before they had no free time left.

The end came faster than you did after your first night with him. Less crude analogy? How about, the summer ended faster than the bullet train you took in Tokyo where you’d spent a whole week with him.

You had told him in advance that it was your last week in the city, and he took the opportunity to pamper you more than ever. He got you a new laptop, headphones, brand new tablet… he wanted to make sure you were all set for your move. You half wondered if he was trying to get you to be his girlfriend- but that was a subject you two didn’t talk much about.

You realized in that final week that, actually, you didn’t know much about him at all. You knew he was an English Professor, he didn’t share where, though. You knew that he was young to be an English Professor… and that he had a cat, named Tara. Besides that, he was a phantom on the terrace threatening to leave you with the wounds of a lover when you finally moved on.

Despite your wanting to cling to him regardless of the time or day, you knew that it would have to end eventually. Even if you stayed in touch now and then, part of you wanted to leave all your dreams behind for him. You knew he wouldn’t let you do that.

The last night, before you moved out, was spent with him. He took you to dinner, indulged you, like usual, and then the rest of the night was… well, passionate to say the least. You savored every moment with him, and he, you. He took his time, caressing and kissing every inch of you. He memorized the way your body felt under his own, the way his hands fit perfectly at your bare waist, the way you moved in accordance with everything he did. You wished the fun would never end.

“Promise you won’t forget me…” you begged him, sticking to his side as you tried to make the night last longer.

“My love, with you I forget myself. I would never dream of letting these memories slip away from me. You are the object of all my intuitions, and you will forever be branded on my heart,” God, he was so poetic. You loved it. You loved him, but wouldn’t say it. This was a transaction, right? Now that it had been processed, you had to move on. Besides, you still barely knew anything about him. What was there to love other than the poet’s romantic words and the money in his pocket?

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered to him, burying your face into his chest.

“Try not to.”

But you couldn’t try to not miss him. You couldn’t stop thinking about your summer with him, how adored he made you feel. You thought you’d never see him again.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“If I had a nickel for every time you spent mourning over your summer with Gale, I’d be able to buy and sustain a cottage in the middle of nowhere,” Jenevelle remarked one day in your new apartment. You finally had things together and littered your space with pictures you’d taken of your time with him. Astarion had to stop you from crowding his space with those pictures, too.

“I’m not mourning anything. I just miss it,” you huffed, setting a photo down as you went back to packing your bag. “The sex was awesome.”

“I doubt he even remembers what you look like. It’s been months,” Astarion cackled.

It had been so long since you last saw him. When you left for college, you were supposed to start in the fall, but now it was practically winter. Between the stress of moving, and life being life, your start date was pushed out a few months longer than it was supposed to be. It didn’t help that your school lost your transfer papers, either, or that your student visa was delayed by a few weeks. Overall, your move was a mess, and you blamed it on leaving the handsome English professor in America. Maybe if you’d stayed…

“Don’t say that!” You whined, whacking him in the back of the head with some of your papers. “He remembers me. He still talks to me.”

“Yeah, he sends you money. That’s about it,” Jen pursed her lips together, shrugging at you. Okay, maybe she was a little bit right. But you were not about to admit that.

“Shut… shut up.”

“Exactly.”

You finished packing for the day and started to make yourself breakfast. You had calculated the route perfectly, you had plenty of time to get ready and enjoy some you-time before your morning class.

You didn’t estimate the giant accident on the way there, though. You practically had a mini heart attack trying to rush through traffic to get there, just barely making it on time. Lucky for you, the professor wasn’t there yet, either.

You squeezed into a seat near the back that was open, apologizing to your seatmates for being late. You pulled out your tablet and set up your notes as neatly as you could. By the end of the lecture you were sure they’d be all over the place, but you could at least try. Your peers beside you introduced themselves as Lae’zel and Wyll and you thanked them both for allowing you to sit between them.

You were nose-deep in your screen, perfecting the layout of your notes, that you didn’t even notice the professor walk in, the room becoming oddly silent.

“This guy is also on the board of directors, and he’s the head of the English department,” Wyll whispered to you. You looked up from your tablet, only seeing the professor’s back as he faced the board. At least your seatmates were kind enough to let you in on all the missing details. How useful that would be in the long run, you’d find out, but it was beneficial to know who you were dealing with.

“Welcome to Honors English 122. For all those new and old, we’re going to be covering a variety of subjects this semester…” his voice trailed off in your mind— you recognized it from somewhere. But where? It was hard to place, especially since he was so far away from you. You needed to see his face- that would solidify where you knew him from.

“I’m Professor Dakarios and I’ll be your guide through the wonderful world of the English language and its impact on our society,” You tried to place the last name, but failed. You were convinced you absolutely knew him, but had not a clue as to how. Oh well.

“Does he start every class like this?” You whispered to Wyll, who nodded solemnly. Was it an ego trip or excitement to have a class to himself? You’d uncover that, too, you supposed.

The professor clasped his hands behind his back, satisfied with the way his name had been written on the board, and turned to face the class. He beamed at the students in front of him, stepping around his desk and leaning against the edge of it. Your eyes narrowed, trying to see him clearly. Considering how large the lecture room was and how far away you were, it was a bit hard.

“It seems we’ve had a handful of new additions to the class this week. I’d like to take a small break from the usual lecture and get some introductions in,” he smiled again, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ll start— my first name is Gale, I’ve been teaching for about six years now, and I have a little feline at home named Tara- who, no, I cannot bring in to show you all.”

Holy. Shit.

“Who would like to go next?”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

[grymghoul]

GALE eats you out so good. He's devouring you. Nose brushing your clit levels of buried in your pussy. He's moaning and humming, like it's just as pleasurable to him as it is you. You'd think he'd be quite, because his mouth is full, but every opportunity he has to breathe, he uses it to speak lavish praises. His hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread, relishing in the way the muscle twitched under his palms. As much as he loved having his head caged between your legs, he wanted you open. You were louder like that. He was always desperate for your praise and you never let him go without when he was doing this. A hand gripping his hair, keeping it from falling in his face. He let your hips chase his mouth when he'd pull away for air. He loved hearing you say he was the best. That he was so good. That no one does it like this, that it's literally impossible for someone to be better. He'd gladly lap at you as long as you said things like that. His hips rolling into the mattress, gaining infuriating relief. Not enough to make himself feel better, it'd make the ache rise and fall with each time he'd grind against the mattress. His breaths hot and heavy against your cunt. Loud whines and whimpers before he'd snap out of it, going right back to his task. He loved how you came on his face. How you stuck to his beard and his senses taken up by you.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Breakfast in waterdeep

||For the more protein-rich version, click here. If the link doesn't work, search for @honey_tongued_ on Twitter and bypass the system, my comrades.||

I'm slower at drawing than usual so take and eat them all, this is my apple pen offered in sacrifice for you.

I want to draw Gale, I want to draw Astarion, I want to make fanart of Stardew Valley, of Ghosts bc, and so I do nothing to be fair to all my interests.

Reblogs, likes, comments, follows (both here and on the demon's site) are welcome.

[amorgansgal]

A Bitter Pill to Swallow

In which Gale is getting a bit distracted by the reader and has to face his feelings. It's a sequel to Practice Makes Perfect, but you don't have to have read that to get what's going on in this one... should be fairly obvious!

Fat Female Reader x Gale

CW: Sexual content, mentions of oral sex, mentions of virginity, masturbation

He isn’t concentrating and he should be. He keeps trying to make notes and listen to what the professor is saying, but every time he looks up his eyes seem to drift over to you. You’re paying attention, your eyes are focused on the board or the professor and dutifully you scratch notes onto parchment and occasionally raise your hand to ask or answer questions. 

But Gale barely even hears what you say or what the professor says or what anyone else in the class says, because his attention is fixed on you. A tendril of your hair drifts lazily against your neck and he’d very much like to twist that little strand around his finger and then kiss your neck. You’ve nervously bitten your lower lip while thinking of an answer and gods, that has just killed him. He remembers your face when you came, how blissful and pleasured you had looked. How first you had bitten your lip to hold back your cry, but it had come unbidden and beautifully loud and unabashed as you had tumbled over the edge. 

He shifts uncomfortably in the chair, grateful for the required uniform of robes that can hide how hard he is. Your robe is open at the collar and pulled back over your shoulders, and the blouse you wear is a little too tight over your chest, the corset pushing up your breasts under the fabric and it’s all he can do not to leap over the desks and rip the flimsy material off you. He regrets not playing with your tits more, teasing the nipples into hard little buds, sucking on them. Your skirt is somewhat tight on your hips and thighs too, and while he’s sure that’s more to do with the poor quality of the uniforms, he’s glad of it. The sweet, intoxicating scent of you had driven him crazy when he was between your thighs and he’s replayed the event so many times in his mind that he feels like he could recall every detail! He loved the way your thighs clenched tightly around his head and how soft they felt, so much soft weight to you. He’d fantasised at night about you riding his face, being entirely at the mercy of your warm, wet-

‘Master Dekarios,’ the professor’s voice rips him from the daydream and every eye in the classroom is upon him.

‘Uh, what?’ Gale asks, not his usual eloquent self. A few titters spring up in the class, he imagines because he’s usually the one answering all the questions and being a bit of a know-it-all, and perhaps his classmates are a little pleased he is not doing well today!

‘I asked what school would this particular spell fall under? Perhaps we can see if you’ve been paying attention at all during this lesson!’

Gale hunts around for a clue. He looks at his classmate’s faces, the professor’s, on the blackboard at the front of the class - which is all about fire magic, but it could be any spell. He decides to take a guess, most of the fire spells are Evocation based. ‘Evocation, sir.’

The professor tuts and shakes his head, more giggles from his classmates follow. ‘Dear, oh dear, Master Dekarios. No, wrong, flaming sphere is not an Evocation spell. Anyone care to offer a suggestion if they’ve been paying attention?’

He’s still feeling that prickle of embarrassment and irritation with himself, but when your hand raises and your eyes finally look at him once more every thought rushes out of Gale’s head. 

‘Yes?’ the professor gestures at you so you can answer.

‘Flaming sphere is a conjuration spell.’ Your eyes flick to Gale and he sees the slightest, smallest smile play at the corner of your lips. He finds himself smiling in turn, you like besting him for once. Your eyes lower slightly, so you’re just looking under your lashes and Gale is about two seconds away from fucking you right on your desk!

'Correct, I’m glad someone has been paying attention!’ the professor says.

He can’t wait any longer. Usually, if they want another go, the women come to him and ask, though he’s not below requesting it himself. But you, he has to ask you, he needs you. Needs to feel your plump thighs around him again, feel your soft belly under his fingers, your full breasts in his hands. If he doesn’t, he’s going to go mad at best, and at worst fail all his classes! He needs to get you out of his head.

When class is over he jolts up out of his seat, quickly packing his bag and hurrying to the door, so he can wait there for you. He shifts from foot to foot nervously. Gods, where the hell are you? Why are you taking so long? Do you usually take this long? And then finally you appear, talking with Nira, oblivious to everything he is going through and looking utterly divine.

‘Y/N!’ he says, desperately, almost breathlessly, causing you to look up in surprise. ‘Could I talk to you for a bit?’

You gaze at him and he wonders if his desperation is all too clear on his face, whether he looks a mess. He has run his hand several times through his hair, so undoubtedly it’s all over the place. You glance at Nira, then back at him.

‘Uh… yes, of course,’ you say, standing there and waiting. Nira is waiting too, looking at him quizzically, brow arched. And while he usually does like Nira very much, right now she is a gods damn devil who is ruining things just by being here! He swallows tightly.

‘Could you… would you mind coming to my room, there’s some alchemy work that it would be good if you could look over, if you have a chance,’ he says.

‘Oh!’ you seem surprised, and perhaps he is too, given that’s not what he truly wants or cares about, but he can’t think of a reason to ask Nira to leave! ‘Sure, I can help with that. But I do need to go to the library and work on a transmutation essay, so can I come by later?’

‘NO!’ his brain screams. But instead of vocalising that he manages a carefree, easy going smile. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you later.’

You nod, give him a delightful, warm smile and then head on down the corridor with Nira, who still glances over her shoulder to give Gale a keen stare as though she’s trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with him.

***

He’s pacing back and forth in his room. He’s tried to distract himself, with books, with an essay he’s meant to write and has thus far managed: ‘Druid magic is considered…’ which has been crossed out savagely. Tara has slunk away somewhere. What is wrong with him? He’s used his tongue on so many women around the school and none of them had lingered long in his memory. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, otherwise he wouldn’t do it. But it’s one thing that is such a fantastic turn on for him that for days after he’ll pleasure himself with just the thought of the recipients. Lucia had a rather lovely gasping moan and Hortense had a nice tight grip on his hair, but you… gods he couldn’t even conjure all the ways you had been the best. And it was haunting him and if he didn’t know you well he’d assume you cast some sort of spell over him. Maybe your pussy was cursed in the best way possible. Even he snorts with laughter as the thought scurries through his brain. He’s being absurd, utterly ridiculous. He’s going mad.

The soft knock on the door makes him jump and he flies over, yanking open the door, beaming on seeing you and then feeling bad for your slightly fearful, apprehensive look. ‘Hello, good afternoon, come in, come in,’ he babbles and you tentatively step over the threshold. 

You brought along your alchemy textbooks and gingerly place them down on the desk, as though he might bite you any second. ‘Gale… are you… are you alright? You look a bit flushed and… um… stressed.’

‘Me? Stressed? No! No, not at all. I’m fine!’ 

‘Oh… alright,’ you say and stand nervously in the room, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. ‘Well where’s your essay?’

Ah! The consequence of his little lie. He has written an alchemy essay, but he thinks it’s actually fine. A few little edits needed here and there, but it wasn’t worth the bother of bringing you to his room. And yet he’s pulling open the drawer on the desk, taking out the essay and giving it to you. He could scream at his brain. What is he doing? Why is he wasting precious time on a near complete essay?

‘Why don’t we sit on the bed?’ he suggests quickly. ‘It’s more comfortable.’

‘Oh, sure,’ you reply, placing his pen and ink pot on the bedside table. You wait for him to fluff up the pillows before taking your seat and he sits next to you while you begin to read the essay.

***

This was a stupid, horrible, tortuous idea! He’s sitting next to you, smelling your scent, feeling your thigh press against his leg and how many times are you going to bite your gods damn lip in thought? He’s in his own personally curated hell and he just wants to rip the essay from your hands and kiss you for all your worth and bury his cock inside you. Sometimes it has subsided, but then you’d shift your weight, brush your hand against his leg or your breast against his arm as you lifted yourself up a little and the blood would rush right back to his cock.

Finally you finish with the last page, having written a few comments throughout the essay and scratching out a couple of lines, but you put the pen back in the ink pot and give him a smile. ‘It’s good, I don’t see why you’d need me to read it, think it’s basically perfect,’ your eyes glimmer with mischief and you poke him in the ribs. ‘Though I’m sure your head doesn’t need to get any bigger with my praise!’

It’s now or never. He takes the pages from your hands. ‘Thank you,’ he says and tosses them on the ground. You look delightfully confused. 

‘Gale, what on earth-?’ you begin to say, but he straddles you and kisses you. You gasp so sweetly and for a fearful moment he thinks you might push him off, but instead you wrap your arms around his back and pull him close. Your hands tighten in his hair and he groans into your mouth as he explores it with his tongue. Gods you’re good.

He lifts his head, taking a moment to try and breathe and calm down a little. He rests his forehead against yours. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all week,’ he admits. ‘Morning, noon and night, you’re driving me mad.’

‘Sorry,’ you murmur in reply and he laughs. ‘Do you get a bit obsessed with your latest conquest in the weeks after?’ you ask.

The phrase doesn’t sit well with him. He doesn’t like the idea that he’s somehow battling and winning all these women, it does make it feel a bit like he’s just adding notches to his belt for the hell of it, rather than enjoying oral and hopefully helping his classmates out. But especially because you’ve been the only one to turn his head and make him want more.

‘No, not usually,’ he says. He lifts his head to look into your eyes, gods they’re beautiful and the way you blink in some confusion… he groans and kisses you again. He wants to admit to wanting to fuck you, he wants to pound you into the mattress, hear your moans and you begging for him, see his cock disappear into your sweet pussy. He realises shamefully he’s grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your mound.

‘I want to have you,’ he pants out. ‘I need you. I need to be inside you. I want all of you.’

You whimper as he grinds into you, your back arching as he does so and he’s so close to scrabbling with your clothes, tugging down your skirt and ripping open your shirt so he can at least have access to your breasts. He’ll pay for your blouse to be repaired, but his head is running hot with blood. His hands go to your skirt. He could bite off the laces at this rate! But your hands are suddenly on his chest and pushing him back. He’s disappointed but obliges and pulls back. You scoot up the bed again and sit with your legs hanging off the side.

‘Gale…’ you breathe, evidently a bit flustered by his display, but you manage to get your breath back. ‘I really like you and I liked our time together, but… well…’ you look away, embarrassment all too clear on your face and he wants to reach out to reassure you, but he thinks better of it. ‘I’m… I haven’t had sex with anyone, except for that time you used your tongue, and I don’t want to rush things or for it to not be someone I don’t love and trust entirely. I do trust and like you a lot, but… well… yes, that’s it.’

Can the gods really be so cruel? Can they really deny him at a time like this? He could scream, but that would probably make this whole situation a hell of a lot worse than it already is! He manages a laugh that sounds strained and a little hysterical, but he thinks he’s just managed to not look entirely insane.

‘Well… yes, that’s a good idea. Wise… uh… honourable…’ the fuck is he even saying? ‘And I’m not saying this to convince you here and now, but do you think… maybe… I could be that person, in the future? At some point? We could court! I could woo you, properly!’

You smile politely and clasp your hands together. ‘I… uh… I don’t know, you’ve been with quite a lot of our classmates and I’d be worried I’d get jealous.’

‘You’ve nothing to be jealous of!’ he cries.

‘Well… I’ll think about it…’ you say, inching closer to the door.

He swallows uncomfortably and nods. What else can he say? He cannot think of anything anyway, when he hears the door open and closes and he looks up, but you’re already gone. He clenches his fists and brings them to his head, groaning. What the hell was he thinking? You’d probably be running off to Baldur’s Gate come first light, he’d terrified you! He throws himself onto the bed and grunts at the contact of the firm mattress against his still achingly hard cock. Fuck it! He needs relief.

He quickly casts a spell at the door to lock it, tosses off his shirt and breeches, and then grabs his pillows. He bundles them up in the middle of the bed and once he’s straddled them, he begins to thrust into them. It makes for a poor approximation of you, but there’s no time for drawing things out or making himself last long, he’s too wound up and desperate for that. He imagines your thick thighs wrapped around him, the softness of your belly bouncing against his hips, the way your breasts would move every time he’d thrust into you. Fuck, you’d look so good, so beautiful, there’d be so much for him to touch and hold onto. He imagines gripping your hips so tightly, his nails digging into your flesh, he’d leave little half moons all over your skin and the thought nearly blinds him. He replays your little moans and whimpers when he’d licked your cunt, thinking about how you’d make the same noises with his cock buried inside of you, fucking you deeper and harder, pressing you down into the mattress… he cums, hot ropes of it messily on the pillows and over the bedsheets.

‘That’s it, my good, sweet girl,’ he mumbles to himself. ‘Going to paint your thighs with my cum, going to make a mess of you,’ he breathes heavily, enjoying the last little shivers of pleasure that course through him, until he comes to a rest and collapses onto his side. He wishes you were here, wishes you had actually accepted his offer. He would’ve been gentle if he knew it was your first time, not like that, he wouldn’t be a selfish prick, but he would… Gale sighs, you’d already made it very clear he was not boyfriend material and it hurt, surprisingly so. He thought… well you had said you would consider it… but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to get much of a thought. Fuck. He’s been mindlessly enjoying himself and no one had been bothered by him eating pussy whenever with anyone and everyone, but now, now he’s gone and fucked himself! And not in a good way. And you've said you'd think about it, but it's probably going to be a no if you're that committed to your morals! He flops back down on the bed and covers his face with his arm. Shit! Why hadn't he thought about this?

He sits up. No, he’s Gale Dekarios. He’s not going to just give up at the first hurdle! He has to prove to you that he’s a worthy contender of your affection, has to prove he can be a good choice when it comes to a relationship and has to prove he can love you like no other. He won’t be a blockhead, if he’s really not your type and you don’t want him at all, then he doesn’t need to be told a dozen times like some men! But he wants to give it a shot at the very least. He smiles to himself. Shit, when had that happened? When had he fallen for you? Strangely, he felt like it might have happened before he ate you out, though when exactly he can’t quite place. He cleans up the room, cleans up himself and unlocks the door. It’s time to woo you like you’ve never been wooed before!

[paradlselost]

⠀ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ILYSFM ۶ৎ

UPCOMING FANFICTIONS INSPIRED BY THE GLASS ANIMALS ALBUM OF THE SAME NAME ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

SHOW PONY — hughie campbell ; the boys . “ it’s how the story goes , ramen on your own . waiting by the phone , lipstick on the coat . waiting by the door , you live in his clothes - you would make a joke that you had none of your own . ”

WONDERFUL NOTHING — nikto ; call of duty . “ say ‘ i might throw up ’ i’d say ‘ burn in hell ’ but they’d hate you too . in my mind i’m annotating you . did your mom tell you to ‘ close it ’ when you chew ? ”

A TEAR IN SPACE — billy lenz ; black christmas “ i climb into your walls , i’m where the spiders go . i’m here but you aren’t sure . what are you waiting for ? stretch me like leather rope , make me invisible . ”

HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE THE BOMB — dean winchester ; supernatural “ split like a thunderstruck tree trunk or maybe the splits in your knuckles . split in the lip that you lick too much . ”

WHITE ROSES — victoria nueman ; the boys “ one day you’ll move on , put me in a drawer . I’ll just be a ghost in the photos on your phone . and you’ll see a sunny side , shows i never liked , you can put them on , put the clap track in your life . ”

ON THE RUN — john seed ; far cry 5 “ it all seems smaller so far away and i miss that noise you make when you sleep . i turn back - now my scars and my stains - and i’m back before you know i escaped . ”

LOST IN THE OCEAN — gale dekarios ; baldurs gate “ fog on the glass where i drew something . up comes the water , can’t see the coast , my heart is dragging on the ocean floor . laughing and crying , staring at my lunch . i wanna scream at the top of my lungs . ”

[biowhore]

have-a-treato -> biowhore

My card

There will be DATV spoilers here (#datv spoilers and # veilguard spoilers)

The strange, off-putting, mean? "girl" at the office you don't talk to

Thoughts are usually posted under #nonsense if you aren't interested

I write sometimes

[astarioffsimpmain]

Share With Me

Pairing: Gale x F!OC (Lyra)

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: I took @senualothbrok 's advice and wrote some Gale on my birthday, and this fic was born! So, this is my birthday fic (technically for yesterday), but also, kind of an announcement fic!

Lyra is a new OC for me, and she is part of a much bigger project I have been working on in semi-secret for a little while now. I am writing a reverse-isekai chapter fic with Gale x Lyra! My story takes a lot of inspiration from my friend Senua's piece, "The Difference," but I'm getting to tell my own story, which I have never done so intimately in published work before. I'm excited and scared and I hope you all will take this journey with me. ❤️ This piece is in the same universe as that project, but is a separate one-shot. Now, on to the fic!

You stretched, allowing blood flow to your legs as you turned over. Quietly, you gazed out the open window next to your bed, closing your eyes when you felt the cool breeze blow in against your face. “It's not so bad,” you muttered under your breath as you watched the multicolored leaves flutter and spin in their journey from the trees to the ground. 

It wasn't as though you were much of a social butterfly to begin with. But, not being physically capable of even sitting in your living room on your birthday because of the pain left a sour taste in your mouth. Even so, you did your best to brush all of that aside and enjoy the autumn air, and before long, you were drifting back into a comfortable slumber. 

Your peace did not last long, however. A knock on your door startled you, as Leda wasn't home, until you remembered — Gale. Becoming used to the presence of this man, who, until a month prior was a mere story of fantasy to you, now living in your home with you, seemed impossible still. 

“Gale?” You called out, the scratch of your voice betraying how close to sleep you had been. 

“Guilty,” His sheepish voice answered from the other side of the door, and you smiled.

“Come in.” 

The doorknob turned, and Gale's handsome face peeked through the crack. “Good morning,” he said gently, and your heart leapt in your chest. ‘If the sun ever burned out, that smile could save us all,’ you thought wistfully as he pushed the door all the way open and came inside. You propped up on your elbow and smiled at him, nearly missing the tray he pushed into the room with him — nearly. 

“Gale,” you gasped, your eyes tearing away from him at last in order to take in the spread before you. “What is all of this?” 

“Uhm…well, heh.” His hand traveled to the back of his neck and he chuckled. “I couldn't possibly allow you to celebrate your birthday in bed, in pain; alone, without a single breath of fanfare. You deserve a considerable amount more than that. So!” He clapped his hands together suddenly. “We have eggs, toast with apple butter spread, sausage, some fruits, and a pumpkin flavored coffee - iced, of course. I also have a menu for lunch and dinner, if you'd like.”

Your heart swelled in your chest and the sight of Gale before you blurred as tears clouded your vision. He continued. 

“I brought your… what did you call it? Computer? In here with me, so that we might watch one of those plays you enjoy.” He paused, seemingly returning to himself, and withdrew ever so slightly. “Of course, none of this is required by any means! All merely suggestions. If you'd rather be left in peace and quiet, I will leave this here and be-”

“Gale,” you interjected, but it's as though he didn't hear you at all. 

“I would be happy to leave this here or take it away-”

“Gale-”

“The last thing I would wish is for you to feel pressured in any way-”

“Gale!” 

He fell silent immediately, and you couldn't help but feel guilty. 

"Come here,” you choked out and reached for him. There was no hesitation. His hands encompassed yours and you nearly sighed aloud in relief. The pain he eased was not in your body, but within your soul. You had been dancing around these feelings you held for a man from worlds away, desperate to keep yourself safe from rejection's cold sting, but when he was here; when he was by your side, your hands safe in his, your fears fell silent. They didn't matter. For even if he rejected you today and disappeared tomorrow, you will have known him; you will have touched him, and you will have loved him with every aching beat of your battered heart. 

You smiled at him, your eyes misted with tears, and took in the worry etched into his beautiful features. ‘Did I do too much? Does she not like it? Have I upset her?’ In that moment, he was as easy to read as a book cover and you squeezed his hand in assurance. 

"Thank you, Gale," you murmured, and a smile crept across his pink lips, but his eyes were still uncertain. You couldn't bear to let him think that he had done anything but send your heart soaring in your chest, so you took a deep breath and made a brave decision. 

Leaning up, you took one of your hands out of his and brushed your fingertips gently upwards through the coarse hairs of his beard, and his lips parted in surprise as your palm came to rest on his cheek. Simultaneously, you pulled yourself up and Gale down, your lips grazing his beard before finding the hollow of his cheek and pressing a tender kiss there. 

"This means so much to me. You mean so much to me. I haven't known how to tell you,  but…" you whispered in his ear and felt him shudder. You pulled away to ask him what was wrong, but your words were swallowed before their inception by his lips on yours, hot and insistent as his fingers came up to cradle the back of your head, and his digits curled into the hair at the base of your neck to keep you locked in place. 

The shocked yelp leaving you melted into a throaty moan as his taste consumed you. You were aflame. His tongue sought entrance into your mouth and you whimpered, allowing him in with no hesitation. 

He pulled away suddenly, his chest heaving as he rested his forehead against your own. “Is this-?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Gale, fuck- yes.” And your breath was stolen once more. 

"Gods, Lyra," he groaned against your lips. "You cannot possibly fathom how delectable you taste."

“I- mmf!” Your words were once again lost on your tongue as his delved deeper, exploring you with as much fervor as he did his favorite tomes. He stroked the length of his tongue against yours and a soft, breathy sound emanated from the back of his throat. You came apart in his arms, pulling him closer than you thought possible in this awkward position, and grasped onto his shoulders like the lifeline they were. 

A month of hesitation, fear, and uncertainty were swept away in the crashing tide of Gale’s teeth colliding with yours as he used the grip he had on your hair to gently, but firmly, tilt your head to the side, giving him unparalleled access to your depths. You felt fingertips glide up the curve of your neck and you shuddered violently, a whimper ripping from your throat and falling onto his tongue like a prayer. The stiff hairs of his beard scratched the sensitive skin around your mouth as you moved in tandem with him, your mind barely remaining tethered to your body. 

Your hands wandered, exploring the dips and planes of Gale’s body as he leaned further over you, conscious of your pain even in the haze of passion. You learned him by touch alone, pressing your fingertips into the muscles and grasping at soft rolls and curves. He felt so foreign and yet so familiar; he felt like coming home. 

When you broke apart, it felt like eons had passed. Blue eyes connected with brown ones and you paused there, drinking in the feeling of closeness you had craved for so long. He was searching you; you felt it. “Stay with me,” you whispered, and watched his Adam's apple bounce with the force of his gulp. 

“Is that what you want?” He whispered in response. 

“Don't you?”

“By all the gods, I want it more than anything. But that's not what I'm asking.” 

You canvassed his beautiful face, reveling in how close each of your favorite features were to you now. You could reach up and trace each crease, line, and scar; run your fingernail along each pore, pocket, and imperfection that made Gale who he was. “I want it too. I want you here with me. Please.” 

He closed his eyes and a smile pulled up at the creases of his mouth, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh falling from his lips as his warm hands fell to each of your cheeks. “Then you'll need to scoot over. I'm quite a bit larger than the space between us now.” 

“Oh Gale, I'm certain you are,” you tittered and he blushed furiously, a hand over his eyes. 

“Gods, you will be the end of me.” 

“I'm not so sure, you might get me first.” 

His hand fell and he looked at you pointedly. “If you continue to tease me, then perhaps I shall.” 

Warmth flooded your entire body and you moved back immediately, allowing him room in the bed beside you. His laugh pulled your mind from the heat pooling in your belly and you smiled up at him as he removed his shoes and laid down on his back beside you. His arm opened to you and you were there in seconds, curling under it and pressing close to his side. 

“Do you wish to eat? Your breakfast has, more than likely, gotten rather tepid by now.” 

“Of course! We can't waste all of your hard work!”

“We?” He questioned you, his eyebrow raising. 

“Mmm,” you nodded, reaching across him to grab a strawberry and press it gently to his lips. “I can't eat all of this by myself.” 

Gale grinned around the strawberry and opened his mouth to you, taking a slow bite of the juicy fruit, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt his hand come to rest on your lower back and pull you closer to him. 

“Come,” he murmured after swallowing, and took the strawberry from you, holding it to your lips now. “Let's share.” 

~

fin

Tagging, Darlings: @micropoe10 @knightofmight01 @just-a-refrigerator @fanon-and-canon @senualothbrok @charlenestrawart

[nevarran-hahren]

Feast and Folly || Chapter 1

Pairing: Gale x Tav/Reader Rating: M (to be safe–it's fairly tame, just a little bit of spice in a future chapter!) Tags/warnings: Gale's Netherese orb, chronic pain, hurt/comfort

Summary: You are a wild magic sorcerer, gifted with an innate connection to the Weave, yet it has caused you nothing but immense strife all your life. Gale is a wizard, plagued by a Netherese orb that must feed on shreds of the Weave, lest the worst come to pass. Is there anything you can do to help ease his pain?

Slow burn, Act I pre-relationship, Gale x f!Tav/Reader. This is intended to be 3 chapters.

Read on Ao3

NOTE: This is written in 2nd person, but reader/Tav is my tiefling wild magic sorcerer, Tiresia. Her story is integral to the fic, so this is not really a true blank slate “reader insert,” but I don’t describe her physical appearance much beyond race-specific details (having a tail and horns and claws), story-relevant details (burn scarring, blindness in one eye), and being shorter than Karlach (as most everyone is). But there are lots of bits of backstory peppered throughout. (my drawing of the Tav in question, if you are interested!)

Chapter 1: Arcane Hunger

“So, remind me again, who are these ‘paladins' and, why are they riding your tail?” you ask, a little bit out of breath.

Your newest—and tallest—companion, Karlach, leads your small scouting party up the dusty, bush-lined path where you first met her just days ago. You try to keep up while you chat, but she has a good foot and a half on you so what amounts to a brisk walk for her is nearing a jog for you, your tail bouncing rhythmically behind you with each step. The vampire and the wizard have both fallen several strides behind now, long since having given up on keeping the larger tiefling’s pace.

You slow to a stop as the rundown toll house comes into view up on the hill, allowing a moment for your other companions to catch up.

“Zariel’s bootlickers,” she spats. “Trying to drag me back to the hells. They’re not particularly bright, but those fuckers are relentless, I’ll give them that. But between us, they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

You hum in acknowledgement, deferring to Karlach for the plan of attack. “What d’you think’s the best way for us to approach this, then?”

Karlach pauses for a moment, hellfire in her eyes, before launching into an enthusiastic pitch for how to banish the ‘paladins’ back to Avernus. You watch her animated hand-talking with bemused reverence, until her monologue is interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from somewhere behind you. Then—

An agonized groan,

followed by a heavy thump—

Something— someone— hits the ground, hard.

Time seems to slow as you spin around on your boot heel, your ears suddenly perked and alert. When you turn, you are half expecting to find yourself in the middle of an ambush—either the paladins had got the jump on you, or a roving band of goblins and Absolute cultists did.

But as the scene before you comes into focus, your eye is drawn to Gale’s cloaked form, doubled over in the dirt—his sweat-covered brow twisted up in pain, one hand clutching at the fabric of his collar, the tightness of his grip blanching the usually tanned skin of his knuckles.

Oh gods. What happened? Has he been shot?

Your mind reels, heart plummeting into your stomach at the thought. 

Not him.

Something had drawn you to Gale nearly from the moment you pulled him from the portal he’d found himself stuck in. The wizard had landed right on top of you, knocking you into the dirt, his mortified blush and spluttering apology instantly endearing him to you. You found him handsome and charming, if a bit pompous, but still, Archmage Gale of Waterdeep felt deeply out of your league as an avoidant sorcerer with barely any mastery over her wild magic. There’s no way that he would be interested in you once he learned who you are, you reasoned. So you resigned yourself to admiring from afar.

But as the days went on, he started to seek you out in the evenings as a fellow magic user, expressing a keen interest in your innate abilities and connection to the Weave. You shared a few lighthearted stories of magical mishaps—like the time that a sneeze caused your skin to turn bright blue for a week, or when you accidentally flooded a small section of the Lower City because your mother refused to take you swimming—of course leaving out the more traumatic experiences. He offered up his own stories of mishaps and mischief in kind.

He was so genuine in his curiosity that you thought maybe you had misjudged him at first. But still, you felt guilty for the selective truths and the lies of omission. Even after he had partially revealed his own magical affliction, you still hadn’t quite mustered up the courage to share your own rather strained relationship with magic openly, nor the fact that you hadn’t intentionally cast a spell in nigh on a decade. This illithid nightmare you’d been thrust into left you with little choice but to rely on your magic again, so you made the decision to grin and bear it on your own.

Then, just a few evenings ago, one of these late night conversations bled into a more intimate moment, a warm embrace entangled in the very threads of the Weave as he told you of Mystra, his goddess and mother of all magic. A strange jealousy twinged in your gut at the reverent way he spoke of her, and your thoughts had wandered to your own longing, the shared connection laying bare your every repressed desire. You imagined what it would be like if you just pressed your lips to his, the soft scratch of his beard against your cheek, your tongue tracing the rampart of his teeth. His fingers trailing the seams of your robe, hooking under your belt, eagerly pulling you in closer—

“Soldier, get down !” Karlach hisses, snapping you back to the reality before you, shaking off your moment of reverie. You can’t afford any distraction if his life is in danger.

In your peripheral, you catch a glimpse of Karlach as she yanks the greataxe from her back and braces herself, eyes scanning wildly for assailants hidden in the brush. To your left, you hear Astarion let out a low growl, his lithe form swallowed up by your blindspot.

Without another thought, you rush to the wizard’s side and drop to your knees beside him. You take him firmly but gently by the shoulders and guide him into a seated position, allowing you to examine him closer.

Your eyes flit over his chest, scanning for any wounds, but you see no errant arrows, no bloom of blood staining his purple robe, nothing that would suggest grave physical injury. Your chest swells in relief, but it’s ever so brief. Something is still very wrong.

Gale lifts his head gingerly, and his wet, brown eyes flicker to yours. There’s an intensity to his gaze, an immense anguish that makes your breath hitch, and your world narrows until it is just you and the man sitting before you. You hold his gaze, searching for an answer. As your thoughts race, you try to suppress your rising panic so you can pinpoint the source of his pain.

“Please—,” his strangled voice dies in his throat, barely a hiss escaping through gritted teeth. He reaches up again and shakily pulls on his collar so that it dips just below the bruised purple outline etched into his chest. 

Oh.

The hunger.

It isn’t the first time this arcane hunger has overtaken him since you began traveling together. You may not yet be privy to all the details of the wizard’s strange, magical affliction, but he’s told you enough for you to know more or less what is happening: his condition is worsening, yet again. The demon inside, as he had described it, had awoken to ravage him—clawing, tearing, teething from within.

He needs another magical artifact, immediately.

You start rifling through your pack, desperate to find anything you can part with—an enchanted amulet, a spare pair of boots, anything. Another pained whimper escapes Gale’s throat, and a knife twists in your own chest in sympathetic response.

You are no stranger to pain. The burn scars that pucker the left side of your face, neck, arms, and chest have caused you chronic, lingering pain for as long as you remember, ever since the day your magic ignited a fireball and set your childhood home ablaze. Though the burns have long since healed, the phantom prickles and incessant itching spells persist, and the restrictive tightness of the scar tissue itself causes you discomfort with even the simplest of movements. 

Each time you laugh at a companion’s joke, each time you lift your arms to take off your tunic at the end of the day… hells, each time you look into a mirror, you are reminded of your stinging guilt, your hollow loss, the worst day of your life.

But among your companions, you keep that pain close to your chest. It is still difficult for you to allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of them when you already feel like a liability because of your unpredictable magic. Some days are worse than others, but even on the bad days you find yourself pushing too far in order to prove yourself useful. You wonder idly if Gale has been doing the same this whole time, too.

“Come on, come on, come on, there’s got to be something in here,” you chastise yourself for hoarding so many useless baubles as your fingers graze past one too many pieces of pilfered silverware. You start tossing them on the ground next to you and they land with a metallic clatter. You make a mental note to clean out your pack later at camp—this level of clutter is clearly becoming a problem.

After another moment of digging, you produce the small golden locket that the little tiefling girl’s mother had given you after saving her from that wretched snake. You picture the looks of pure love and relief on her mother and father’s faces after being reunited with their daughter. You try to picture your own parents’ faces in your mind’s eye too, though with the passage of time, your visual memories of them have become less precise. The illuminating spell the locket is imbued with is not particularly useful to you, but still, it had been an incomprehensibly kind gesture to gift you with such an heirloom—especially when you know those tieflings had so little to their names. Their kindness will not be in vain.

You hold the locket out to Gale. He reaches for it, but recoils as another shudder wracks his body.

“Do you—” you pause, unsure of what it is you even want to ask. “Do you want me to do it?”

He nods.

The last time that Gale had to treat his worsening condition, you’d curiously observed how he held the artifact to his chest, touching it to bare skin so that the shred of Weave within could be absorbed into his body. It seemed simple enough.

You clutch the locket tight inside your palm and lean in to press it lightly to the bruised skin above Gale’s heart. Eyes closed, his hand settles on top of yours, thumb slowly rubbing back and forth across the back of your hand.

After a moment, a cool glow emanates from beneath your clawed fingertips, the outline of the strange orb on his chest now pulsing with magic. Bolts of indigo Weave crackle in the air around you and caress your entangled hands, the hairs on your arm standing on end, magic flowing from the locket and into Gale’s chest—through you.

The sensation is an altogether odd one, though certainly not unpleasant or unwelcome; it feels markedly different from the way that your wild magic usually does. You’ve tried so hard to keep the tides of chaos within you from spilling over for as long as you can remember, but it has always felt more like of a cycle of ever-building pressure, a mounting tension, rather than a pleasant ebb and flow of energy—rather like a bowstring being stretched ever more taut, yet never released, until finally it just snaps.

But this, this is something wholly different. This magic feels electric —a soft, buzzing energy, starting as a faint tingle in the tips of your fingers but radiating outward, to the crown of your head and the tip of your tail. Your nerves sing, a cold adrenaline flooding through you, and the frenetic vibrations that echo through your body push a nearly inaudible sound from your lips. You shiver. Has magic ever felt this good before?

Almost as quickly as it started, the tendrils of shimmering magic melt into the air.

The wizard groans, and you realize for the first time that your eyes had fluttered closed at some point, your lips still slightly parted. You open your eyes to find Gale gazing back at you from beneath hooded lids, closer than you remember him being—an unreadable emotion flickering across them for a fraction of a second. Your palm lingers on his chest as you relish in the soft electricity humming in your veins, his hand still resting atop yours.

Karlach’s soft cough from behind you snaps you out of it.

Suddenly hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment you have just shared and your companions’ stares boring a hole into your back, you are the first to move away. Your cheeks grow hot, flushing a deep red. 

Your hands drop to your lap, opening your fist to observe the empty space where the little golden locket had been moments ago. You absent-mindedly fiddle with your mother’s tarnished ring on your middle finger, suddenly self-conscious and unsure of what else to do with your hands.

“You felt that too, didn’t you?” he whispers. Your eyes rise to meet his again. “It is a strange experience each time anew—like a lost soul is spelunking through the darkness that is me, only to be sacrificed on the dread altar of the heart.” You smile wide at the return of his usual grandiloquence—a sure sign that he’s feeling more himself again.

But the relief is gone in a moment. When Gale moves to stand, he winces, another deep pang ripping through his chest. You catch his elbow to steady him. His expression grows serious again, eyes darkening.

“Good gods, it’s hardly had any effect. Mystra have mercy on us all. Listen, I need to talk to you, all of you,” he finally looks past you to acknowledge Astarion and Karlach’s presence for the first time. Their expressions flicker between bewilderment and concern at what they had just witnessed.

“Tonight. I will make us supper, and we will speak then. You deserve to know the truth of who I was. Who I really am.”

You can’t imagine that anything he could say would change the way you feel about him. Not when you have your own secrets you’ve been keeping.

“Is there anything more I can do for you, Gale?” you implore him, voice barely above a whisper.

Gale shakes his head. “Oh, you do plenty for me already. More than you realize,” he pauses. “But this… this cannot be remedied. Please, I need some time to think. We will speak more tonight.”

You nod your head solemnly. “Do you want me to walk you back to camp? I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to convince Lae’zel to take your place if you need a rest.”

“Oh, I assure you, that will not be necessary, but I am grateful for your endless thoughtfulness. Let us carry on, I do believe we were about to parley with some paladins.”