#it will be a long time before i shut up about gale and/or baldur's gate. sorry guys

[ohpassenger]

someone really liked gale in the animation team i feel like

[explorevenus]

dessert before dinner ♡ gale dekarios x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors DNI or i will call the cops and also ur mom

word count - 4.3k

description - domestic life with you has turned gale into a big softie, in more ways than one-- he's already got the dad bod, why wait for the baby to match?

aka dad bod malewife gale wants to knock u up :3

tags/warnings - dad bod gale w mild self esteem issues at the beginning but he gets over it, technically bg3 spoilers ig (takes place post-game), food mentions, praise, p in v, creampie, breeding kink but fluffy cus gale is sappy, inappropriate use of the Weave, inappropriate use of mage hand

a/n - this piece was commissioned by my LOVELY LOVELY SWEET BABY ANGEL @d10nyx WHO DESERVES EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD AND MORE AND IS SUCH A FUCKIN SAINT FOR BEING SO PATIENT FOR THIS ;n; pls go check out her work i adore her so bad

also just as a note b4 i get One Billion Asks about it for posting this-- i am not abandoning 'something permanent' nor am i abandoning writing for resident evil just bc i am posting one singular bg3 fic !!!!!!!!!! might seem obvious but i just wanted to get ahead of it bc i'm paranoid and have seen it happen to other ppl ;~;

my masterlist ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Life post-Netherbrain softened Gale Dekarios in many ways. 

Some of the most obvious ways included the relief of tension that came with no longer bearing the weight of the world on his back, ridding himself of the curse that plagued so many of his living years, and finally being able to settle down back home in Waterdeep. 

But if you asked Gale, the one thing that softened him the most was you. You, you, you. Ever since the moment you tugged him out of that collapsing portal, everything Gale did was for you, and by the looks of it, that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. 

Stability was something Gale hadn’t had in a long time, and while he wouldn’t exactly call running around Faerun fighting deities and monsters and people alike ‘stability,’ he could at the very least find that stability in you. Every battle, every brutal journey through the swamp or the Astral Plane or the wreckage of Baldur’s Gate, you were right there with him. 

And now you were home. 

Home had long since become anywhere with you, of course, but now you were really home, back in Waterdeep with Gale and his family and his beloved Tara, and what’s more, you had his last name. You were truly his and he was truly yours, in every possible sense. With his days spent teaching the art of illusion magic to the next generation of hopeful mages and his evenings spent returning home to his precious wife, Gale wasn’t sure it would be scientifically possible for him to be any happier, let alone any more fortunate. 

Gale was in the kitchen preparing dinner when you returned home, having spent the afternoon handling a few errands and wandering about the city. It always came as a delight for him to see you exploring his hometown in the same ways he did growing up, discovering all the neat little oddities and secrets that lay beneath the unassuming surface. 

He turned over his shoulder to face you at the sound of the door creaking open and then clicking shut, a smitten grin tugging at his face already. The sight of his beloved would never cease to fluster him, after all. 

“There she is,” Your handsome wizard greeted warmly, “The lovely and– might I say, stunningly beautiful– Princess of Waterdeep.” 

Just like that, you were blushing too, approaching to wrap your arms around him at the waist from behind, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder, affectionately roaming every inch of him you could get your hands on with a gentle touch. 

Yes, life post-Netherbrain softened Gale Dekarios in many ways, and his figure was no exception.

It was no secret Gale had an appreciation for the little indulgences in life, like rich wine and too many sweets, alarm clocks shut off when they really shouldn’t be, cozy bedding and plush furniture and hearty ‘marry me’ dinners. But, luxuries like that were rather few and far between when the two of you were on the road, and long days of traveling by foot and fighting to survive made for great exercise at the time. 

Suffice it to say, having a stable home and living without being under the constant threat of death meant you weren’t quite as active as you used to be. With time, his cheeks filled out a little more, and his clothes became a bit snug as lean muscle gave way to plush flesh. His skin glowed. He looked relaxed and nourished, he looked healthy, and you couldn’t get enough of him if you tried. 

Your wandering hands did make him a little timid in the moment, however– he hadn’t put on a concerning amount of extra padding by any means, but still, this new look was taking some getting used to. 

“Quite alright, my love?” Gale asked with a soft laugh as your hands came to rest at his hips, your kisses trailing up the side of his neck. His skin was glowing warm beneath your attention. 

“Mhm,” You hummed innocently, nodding, your hands sliding forward to feel along the delicate roundness of his belly through his shirt. “I just missed you today, dearest, and you look so delightful. I have half a mind to talk you into dessert before dinner, hm?” 

Your beloved husband was well and truly burning up now, stuttering over whatever he had going on the stove and very much considering abandoning it in favor of bending you over the countertop, but something made him hesitate. 

With a bashful laugh, as though he were trying to play it off, Gale replied, “Right, well, I suppose I could use the exercise.” 

Your brows furrowed with confusion and you glanced up at him over his shoulder, trying to read his expression. He said that so casually, like he didn’t think anything of it, and it broke your heart a little bit. 

“For all it may be worth, I think you look divine,” You said, face straight and meaning every word of it. Even if Gale was trying to laugh it off, it wasn’t a joke to you. Quietly, you added, “I would argue a bit of fluff suits you well, my darling.” 

Thankfully Gale tended to be rather easily convinced by you. 

His posture relaxed a little bit, and now the laugh that puffed out from between his lips was noticeably more genuine. “Perhaps it’s about time we put ‘a bit of fluff’ on you. I fear my mother will lose her head soon if I don’t.” 

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes with playful curiosity. “Your mother? And what concern is that of hers, hm?”

“Only the same concern of every mother, dearest,” He grinned as though it were obvious, “Grandbabies.” 

This response of his gave you pause. Gale’s mother hadn’t exactly been quiet about her desire for grandchildren since the day you met her, but she’d never gone too far, never pestered you to the point of being uncomfortable, and never made it out to be particularly urgent– you wondered if perhaps she’d been less patient on the topic with Gale. 

Your pause had a lot less to do with the pressure to please his mother and a lot more to do with the undeniable fact that the thought of Gale fucking a baby into you made your knees go weak. You weren’t even sure you were breathing for a moment, until it occurred to you that you’d been quiet for too long and any further hesitation to respond could be taken the wrong way. 

Clearing your throat softly, you continued the playful banter, “I think my earlier suggestion stands to remedy that concern as well, no? Dessert before dinner?” 

What you didn’t know was that Gale had been thinking about this a lot more often than he was letting on. Sure, the pestering of his baby-crazy relatives was one factor, but more than anything, the safety and security he’d felt in the year since you’d married had him throwing himself into the romantics of domesticity with abandon. When you first met, he never imagined such a future would be possible for him. The chaos and uncertainty that came along with defeating the Absolute brought death far closer than most people would see the other side of, and yet you made it. 

Against all odds, hand-in-hand, you still made it. And every night since your wedding, as you tucked into bed alongside one another, he dreamt of you glowing with the radiance of motherhood. He didn’t want to pressure you– after everything that had happened, it felt like a lot to ask of you to also bear his child, like that might be pushing his luck… though you had all but just confirmed your interest with that last remark, and that didn’t make it past him. 

Gale turned off the stove so as not to burn the masterpiece he’d been cooking before turning around to face you, his broad hands coming up to cradle your face. The look he gave you was intensely romantic and almost vulnerable, his eyes gazing deep down into your own as he asked, “My darling, do you know how long I’ve yearned to make you a mother?” 

Your heart was hammering now, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you found yourself unable to break eye contact, not that you wanted to anyway. Bashfully, your hands came to rest upon his soft shoulders, feeling his own heart pulsing away in his chest, his cheeks going rosy with the same warmth. There was always a certain synchronicity between you and Gale. 

Voice lowering to a near whisper, the emotion behind your words just as strong, you replied, “How long?” 

The look he gave you was tender and reverent. Your husband clicked his tongue and smiled at the floor before cupping your jaw in his two strong hands, meeting your eyes once again. Tone rich with sincerity, he began, “Back in the Grove, seeing you with all the little Tieflings… a lot of people would have disregarded them as scoundrels, but not you, my darling. 

“You embraced their mischief– not only embraced it, but nurtured it. Refined it. You treated them with patience and respect, and you didn’t look down upon them, you kneeled to their level. At every turn, you protected them, but you never patronized them. You learned just as much from them as they learned from you.” 

He paused for a moment, thumbs stroking over your flushed cheeks, his own skin burning just as hot. Pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, Gale continued, “I’m sure you can imagine how that sent off the train of thought. For the longest time, I bit it back. It felt like a pipe dream, and I didn’t want to kid myself– I’ve done enough of that for two lifetimes. But then the Netherbrain fell, the Absolute released her iron grip on the commonwealth of Faerun, and what’s more, you accepted my hand in marriage. 

“The first morning I woke up next to you in the safety of our marital bed, it didn’t feel like such a distant reality anymore. There you were right before me, and in my mind’s eye, you were bathed in the golden glow of dawn and fertility, your nightgown clinging to your divine, ripening figure. Ever since that moment, the image of you with child has dominated my every waking thought. I crave it like the sweetest wine, my heart, to see you become plump and radiant with motherhood.” 

Leave it to Gale to so easily render you weak in the knees with his poetics. The way he described it, you could see it too. You could see the silk of your nightgown becoming snug around your middle as your belly would come to rise like pastry, you could see the vein in Gale’s brow tense while he would struggle to put a crib together. You could see your grocery lists growing to include nappies and baby food, you could see a space at the dining table occupied by a high chair. 

He was right, it didn’t feel distant at all. It felt so close you could taste it, the veil between this reality and that one now paper thin, like a cobweb you could just blow away. 

Before you could think up a response, he was speaking again, his tone delicate and low, “Just imagine it, dearest. A child born of you and I would have the purest connection to the Weave imaginable, and you would make a gorgeous mother… You know I adore you always, but I must confess, I’m not sure I would be able to leave you be, seeing you like that. It might just require the strength of a thousand men to pry me away.” 

You puffed out a laugh, your face and the tips of your ears burning with bashfulness. Leaning forward to hide your face away in his soft chest, you teased, “So it wasn’t your mother who put you up to this?” 

“Ah, I’m afraid not, my darling,” He cracked a grin, planting a smooch to the crown of your head. “At least not entirely. This was a hole I dug the both of us into largely on my own, I’ll admit.” 

His hands slid down to rest upon your hips, and for a moment, you just held each other like that. It felt cozy, it felt comfortable, like time itself had paused around you. In all your days, no one but Gale could make you feel like that so consistently. You almost wondered if there might be some subtle illusion magic at play in moments like these, but you knew all too well that Gale’s charm had very little to do with the Weave– he was just like that, and you were all the more fortunate for it. 

Gale’s hold on your hips tightened in an affectionate squeeze before his arms were snaking around you, one at your lower back and one where your thighs met your bottom. He lifted you from your feet and spun you around to face the other way, propping you up on the countertop in one smooth movement, the tightening front of his pants nestled right up against the crotch of your underwear through your dress. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, and he didn’t make it any easier for you to remember how to breathe when his next move was to stoop his head down and smother your throat with languid kisses. 

“Gale,” You gasped, hips rutting forward to knock into his own, your head spinning as the distinct outline of his arousal grinded right up against your clit. “Gods above, you’re going to be the death of me…” 

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest at your accusation, his teeth nipping playfully at your pulse point before he spoke against your skin, “Always a flair for dramatics with you, my beloved bride… though if that should turn out to be true, then you’d die how you lived; ravished, revered and adored by your most loyal wizard.” 

Just as soon as he’d put you there, Gale was plucking you up from the countertop again, and while it was your immediate assumption that he was going to carry you off to the bedroom, it would seem he didn't even have the patience for that. Your back hit the dining table with a gentle thud, though the ever mindful wizard braced the back of your head gracefully with an oven mitt just in time. 

You dissolved into a fit of squirms, giggles, and quiet yelps as his lips and teeth met your neck in a display of needy attention, his fingertips crackling with magic as they found their way up beneath the skirt of your dress. Grip printing into your hips, he dragged you back until your clothed cunt was flush with his bulge again, and the electric shock of pleasure that rang through you in response threatened to knock the wind out of you. 

Gale wouldn't, you thought to yourself, surely he wouldn't enchant his-- 

He tilted your chin up with his knuckle, a brutally smug grin plastered on his rosy face as your eyes met again. "Are you with me, dearest?" His thumb came forward to stroke over the plush of your bottom lip, almost pulling it into a pout himself. 

"Yeah," You shivered, nodding without even really thinking about it. You couldn't even bring yourself to poke fun at him for that like you might have otherwise. "Did you--" 

"Shh," Gale cooed, untying the laces of his trousers to relieve some of the pressure before he folded over you and rolled his hips forward again, caging you between the table and his warm, plush frame. The barrier between you was lesser now, and you felt it immediately.

He was radiating the Weave, delicate strands seeping through the thin fabric of your undergarments to kiss, lick, and tingle over your flesh. The sensation wasn't completely foreign-- taking a master wizard as a partner and lover for life naturally lent itself to inappropriate use of the arcane-- but no two intimate encounters with him were ever alike. Sometimes it made you wonder just how many of those hours he spent locked away in his tower were giving him ideas. 

In hardly any time at all you could feel yourself soaking through your panties, your hips rutting forward to chase him and your mind slipping away into a helpless little puddle of mush, and he had barely even touched you yet. It was all by design, of course-- he didn't want to get too cocky and risk wasting a drop of himself that could otherwise be getting you pregnant. 

Discarding his shirt and dragging your panties down with shaking hands, Gale groaned at the sight of your arousal, the extent of it. You were right drooling between your legs, pussy glistening with the very same juices that drenched and clung to your underwear. He couldn't help but dip two fingers between your silky folds to collect your nectar for himself. As soon as it hit his tongue he felt like he couldn't breathe. Your taste was creamy and sweet like icing, a flavor he wouldn't ever tire of even if it was the only thing he could ever have again. He could devour you for a lifetime and still hunger for eternity. 

"You're going to grow so beautifully," He said lowly, eyes half-lidded and his pupils blown wide as saucers. In you he saw nothing but the future. One hand shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs and the other planting itself upon your stomach, his cock sprang up to kiss the plump flesh of his own belly as he continued, "I will thank the divines for the remainder of my life that I should have the pleasure of watching you ripen with our fruit." 

You could have cried. Your bottom lip did wobble a little bit as you gazed up at him, choking up, and he stooped down to kiss you immediately. 

"None of that," He mumbled against your lips, dragging his stiff, weeping cock through your folds to keep you good and dizzy, every contact of his skin against yours still buzzing with the arcane. "I have you, okay? I have you. I love you. You're alright." 

Nodding in response, feeling the tears dry up right then and there, your lips parted in preparation to respond but all that came out was a deep, pleasured cry. Gale was sinking into your hole like he was made for you, stretching you open with slow, delicate thrusts, his breath heavy and lustful in your ear. 

Stuffing you full of himself until the head of him was threatening to kiss your cervix, Gale stilled for a moment, nipping at the shell of your ear before kissing your cheek affectionately and checking in with you, "Feeling good, my darling?" 

"Mhm," You nodded, and as soon as your approval registered to him, he began to move. 

Bliss. Pure and uncut bliss. That quiet little hum of approval quickly melted into staggered breaths and mewls, your hands finding purchase in kneading at the dough of his waist. You really couldn't get over how well the extra weight suited him, how perfectly it softened his edges and padded out the warmest parts of his physique. He was made for a body like this, a little bit round and squishy and sweet. You wanted to swallow him in one bite. 

Every stroke of his cock inside you felt like true euphoria, crackles and tingles of pleasure radiating outward from each and every nerve ending, and he felt it too. You could tell by the look on his face, the way his mouth hung open with deep, wanton moans, the way he shivered and stuttered with damn near every thrust. 

"G-Gale," You cried out, nails printing into his flesh as you tried to tug him down to you. 

Typically he would have obliged you without hesitation, but Gale had other plans at the moment. Bracing himself against the fine oak wood to the right side of your head, his other hand gripped at your thigh and angled your leg up with ease. Before you could register what he was about to do, he was already doing it. 

Folding you into a half mating press, he drove into you deep, the Weave sinking into your bloodstream with a staggering intensity that nearly made you scream. 

Swallowing your cries with his own lips, Gale kissed you just about as deeply as he was fucking you, his facial hair scratching and tickling at your cheeks as his silky tongue slipped over your own. Every knock of his hips against your own had the dining table rattling too, the walls of your marital home ringing with the sounds of sex, the obscene squelching of your pussy sucking him in, the needy whines and moans slipping from you both. 

You felt like you were on fire in the best possible way. Every square inch of your body was alight with lust and magic, your legs hooked around his hips to draw him even closer. The two of you could fuse together and you would still want to get closer. 

Soon enough, your throbbing clit was met with the unexpected pressure of arcane fingertips, measured strokes of a figure-eight over your swollen bud that coaxed you higher and higher and higher until you felt like you were weightless there on that table, lifting from it, your lips only parting from his own as your head fell back against the oven mitt in a desperate gasp for breath. 

That breath was almost immediately followed by a broken cry of his name, the stimulation causing your greedy cunt to clench and pulse around him, again, by design. Sinking down on his elbow so he could speak directly into your ear, his cock stroking so deeply into you that it nearly felt like it was prodding at your lungs, Gale groaned, "That's it, pup, there you are... Such pretty noises from my good girl, my darling little wife..." 

"I love you, I love you, I--" 

Cutting you off with a kiss, Gale replied, "I love you more, and I'll give you as many babies as it takes to prove it."

Your vision went white, thighs wrenching tight around his hips as you plummeted over the edge unlike ever before. It felt like traveling through a lightning bolt, your spine arching up into a fine point, your stomach pressing up against his own as he emptied his load inside you, mage hand still circling your puffy clit. 

Ropes and ropes of creamy seed flooded your hole until you were stuffed to the brim, leaving behind that delicious pressure that came along with being stretched so full. Your bottom half felt heavy as you fought to catch your breath beneath him, tears leaking from your dewy eyes. 

"N-No more, no more with the mage hand," You stammered, sucking in a sharp breath as its thumb and forefinger took your clit in a delicate pinch. 

Another second or two passed in which he continued to have his fun before deciding you'd had enough. The stimulation to your bud slowly ceased, but as he withdrew his softening sex from you, you quickly realized you didn't feel any less full. 

Brows knitting together, you squirmed and struggled to sit up, watching Gale turn his back to dampen a washcloth before returning to you, gently wiping the sweat from your brow and the slick from your inner thighs, brushing your hair away from your face reverently. "Shh, shh. Just sit still for a moment longer, alright? Let me get you cleaned up." 

He continued his gentle work until you were refreshed and sparkling before scooping you up from the dining table like a princess in his arms, carrying you off to the bedroom to get you both changed. 

It was only as the two of you entered the room and you caught sight of yourself in the floor-length mirror that you realized Gale's mage hand was still very much at work, its thick middle and ring fingers plugging you up nicely. Not a drop was wasted with the diligent digits blocking the way. 

Gale helped you out of your dress and into a soft nightgown, and in your exhaustion you were ready to just crash into bed for the night. Curling up atop the covers as Gale changed into loungewear of his own, you were about to fall asleep right then and there when he woke you with a loving grin. 

"Huh?" You mumbled, reaching up to rub your eyes, and as his own raked over the image of your beautiful body, he couldn't stop thinking about the many ways it would come to develop over the next several months. 

"We still haven't eaten, my love." 

You groaned, burying your face back into the bedding stubbornly. "But I'm tired..." 

"You were the one who wanted dessert before dinner, sweetest," He teased. "We've had our dessert, and now it's time for dinner. Besides, I thought we agreed to fluff you up a bit?"

A bashful smile tugging at your cheeks, you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, huffing out, "Okay, okay, fine," reaching your arms out for him to carry you again, and you were so lucky he loved to baby you. 

Gale didn't hesitate to take you into his arms, your head nestled up against his chest as you returned to the kitchen together. He placed you gently down in a chair at the dining table before assessing what he'd left on the stove earlier. His 'masterpiece' was now ice cold and unappealing to him, and surely his darling wife deserved better than cold and unappealing. 

Turning over his shoulder to look at you, Gale asked you a question that you didn't think you'd ever hear him ask; "How about tavern food tonight?"

[tumbleweed-run]

Stand Still

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober day 5: sweat

You lay on your bedroll idly watching the clouds roll by above you. There were about three thousand things you should be doing right now but the message that you should get up was not actually traveling from your brain to your body. You were tired. Tired in a way that made it likely you’d end up curling up where you lay, armor and all, and falling asleep. 

There were still a few days until you reached Baldur’s Gate even at the breakneck speed you were all traveling at. Normally the first in the group, leading the way, but today after lunch you’d ended up falling behind. Your legs ached and between the pace your companions were keeping, the sun, and your armor you were sweating. 

Eventually, the distance between the new head of the pack, Karlach, and the last of you grew large enough that new safety concerns were brought up. The road had been forgiving so far in terms of ambushes but that didn’t mean you could let down your guard. So it had been decided with only minimal fuss from Lae’zel that you would make camp even though the sun was still high in the sky. 

A shadow passed over your face and you started, your eyes which you hadn’t realized you’d shut flew open. You sighed in relief to see Gale standing above you, body blocking the sun from your face. 

“Need assistance?” He asked one hand wildly gesturing towards you. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together until you realized he was referring to your armor. “I need a week's rest and a bath,” you groaned as you sat up.

“Unfortunately I cannot help you with the former, the latter however,” Gale began as he offered a hand to help you up,” there’s a stream not far off. In fact, Shadowheart is just back from washing up.

You took his hand and allowed yourself to be pulled to standing. Glancing over his shoulder you saw that Shadowheart had indeed bathed, long dark hair hanging damply around her. 

You sighed heavily, “not the warm soak I was hoping for but it will suffice.”

There was a quick stop at Gale’s tent to gather soaps and fresh clothing. There you also pulled off your armor leaving you standing in just your breeches and undershirt. Despite the warmth of the day you shiver slightly as a light breeze caressed all the places where your shirt was stuck to your body with sweat.

The stream was perhaps closer in size to a small, slow-moving river. The water was clean and clear with plenty of brush and trees obscuring banks from the camp beyond. There were large rocks jutting from the water, smooth and worn from times when the water had breached its boundaries. 

Eagerly you pulled off your boots and seated yourself on a rock, feet dangling into the cool water below. You hadn’t bothered to roll up the bottoms of your pants and the water was slowly soaking up them to your knee. It didn’t matter, everything was going to need to be washed anyway. 

The sun was briefly blocked again as Gale joined you on your rock. He sat behind you, legs bracketing yours. Though he’d taken the time to shove the ends up to the bend of his knees. You idly watched his leg hair dance in the current as he shifted behind you to find a comfortable spot. 

Without thinking, you leaned back against him seeking to take advantage of these few extra moments of rest. You winced and scrambled to sit back up when the dampness of your shirt met with his relatively dry one. 

“Sorry, I should probably actually bathe before trying to cuddle,” you apologized. 

One of Gale’s arms snuck around you, pulling you flush against him. “I will have you any way you’ll let me,” he said pressing a kiss behind your ear. 

A giggle forced it’s way from your mouth. 

He sighed, theatrically behind you, heaving shoulder jostling you. “I did not mean it that way,” he grumbled.

“I know,” you assured, raising a hand and squeezing his arm that was still drawing you back against him. 

“Although,” Gale’s voice was teasing though he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

You laughed again, “aways so kind, even when I’m gross.”

“You are far from gross,” Gale argued and then as if to make a point you felt his tongue trace a quick path from just below your ear to the collar of your shirt. 

You ineffectively attempted to squirm away, but he held you tight.

“How many times must I remind you that I am quite fond of your musk,” he mumbled, mouth still pressed against the skin of your neck. 

“I wonder if that stretch of celibacy got to you,” your turn to tease now. 

Gale chuckled, the force of it vibrating against you. “You, my love, are what’s gotten to me,” he insisted pressing a kiss to your skin. 

His arm finally dropped from where it held you to your thigh, kneading into the muscle gently. 

“Gale, in daylight?” You gasped in mock affront. 

Another chuckle and this time you found yourself arching to neck to allow his lips more space to roam. 

“Perhaps I already made it clear to the others to remain in camp.” He began trailing kisses over every piece of exposed skin. 

You smiled at that revelation. Maybe you should have been offended at his presumption but you weren’t. Gale frequently went out of his way to ensure your privacy even when it didn’t benefit him. 

His hand had traveled up your thigh, fingers gently playing with the laces. You rested your hand on his before plucking the tie open. Taking that as his permission Gale quickly loosened them before diving his hand inside.

He didn’t bother trying to get beneath your smalls, instead opting to rub against you over them. Your legs spread almost instantly, one leg hooking over the top of his. 

“Fuck,” you moaned arching your hips up against his hand. You an arm snaked around the back of his head, holding him into your neck as you rocked. Gale didn’t protest. Instead, he alternated between pressing gently sucking kisses and lapping small stripes with the tip of his tongue. 

With each rock of your hips you felt him hardening against you which only spurred you on. He was absolutely insane the sole rational part of your brain suggested, finding you attractive in this state. It didn’t matter though, his body wasn’t lying and you couldn’t help but love him for all his oddities.

Gale withdrew his hand and you moaned at its loss. 

“Up,” he insisted patting the side of your hip. 

Reluctantly you let him go and stood, twisting so you could brace your hand on his shoulder as you did. When you were standing he guided you, with an impatience you couldn’t help smile at, to turn so you were facing him. 

He was quick to help you shimmy from your breeches, glaring at you only a little as you both struggled with the damp legs. They were briskly discarded in the direction of the bank though you didn’t know if they’d actually made it. Your smalls were next to be shimmied down and then tossed. Until you were left standing naked from the waist down before him. 

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled until you were straddling him so close you could feel his puffs of breath on your cunt. 

“Shit,” you breathed, hand instinctively clutching at his hair. 

He balanced you with both hands on your ass, forearms bracing your thighs as he drew you in to close the gap. Gale’s mouth was on you with no further warning, tongue darting out to press between your folds. He was lapping everywhere not just your clit where you desperately wanted him. You wanted to drag him there but the way his fingers flexed against your ass told you he wasn’t going to allow you to direct this. 

That final ration part of your brain, the one slowly suffocating as the words Gale and please became the only things you could thing, realized you were standing precariously on a rock. One wrong move and you’d go flying into the water below. At least it was deep enough you weren’t likely to get seriously hurt if you did. 

Gale’s teeth ghosted across your clit causing all other coherent thoughts to flee from your brain. You were reduced to moans and whimpers as you ineffectively rocked your hips against his face begging him to do it right. You knew he could have had you coming by now which meant he was torturing you for fun. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

Then he drew back. You seriously considered violence until your eyes met his. He held your gaze for a moment before slowly leaning back in, continuing to watch you. When his tongue pressed between your folds this time, he was serious. He alternated between sucking at your clit and pressing maddening circles around it with his tongue until you were all but trying to climb onto his face. 

When your orgasm rolled through you, hands gripping into Gale’s hair to keep his face in your cunt, you shouted loud enough it was likely those back at camp heard. Your thighs shook until you collapsed. Gale skillfully guided you down so you were straddling his lap. 

“I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll die,” you threatened through your panting, pussy clenching around nothing still. You needed him inside you.

“Insatiable,” Gale laughed as he quickly undid his own trousers. 

There was a few moments of awkward shifting as you refused to leave his lap but needed his pants pushed down. When finally his cock sprung free you grasped it greedily, shuffling forward on your knees. Gale realized what you were doing too late, hand reaching your hips to stop you as you already slid down on him completely.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, you’re too impatient,” he chastised hands pinning your hips to his, forcing you to give yourself time to adjust. 

You rolled your eyes at him, you’d been so wet there’d been hardly any resistance when you lowered yourself. Now you wanted to rock, you wanted so badly to fuck yourself on him that you were growing frustrated with him. 

Maybe it was the low growl that rolled from your throat that got him to release your hips, or maybe he too was finally growing impatient. But he released you and almost immediately you raised up on your knees just to sink back down his full length again. 

As you selfishly sought to continuously fill yourself with him, not interested in finding a rhythm yet, Gale set to work divesting you of the rest of your clothes. 

“Gods,” he groaned pressing a kiss to one of your nipples, “I cannot wait to take you home and make you ride my face for hours.”

The image that took up residence in your brain had your hips stuttering, suddenly now interested in finding a rhythm that would please both of you. His hands went to your hips in an effort to aid you this time and you let him guide you. 

He buried his face between your breasts, tongue tracing strange patterns. Curious you looked down and realized you’d begun sweating again and he was chasing the little beads that had dripped down your chest. You groaned hips rolling. 

“You’re insane,” you told him breathily. 

For once Gale had no response. He did allow his mouth to wander until his lips found your nipple again. He pulled it into his mouth and you moaned, head falling back. Your hand came to rest at the back of his neck, anchoring both of you. 

In that moment you could almost forget the tadpoles, the elderbrain, and the dead three. You could just exist in this space with Gale, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your hips with each thrust, the sun beating down on your closed eyes. You wanted to remain here, like this, forever. 

The coiling in your belly quickly reminded you that moments never lasted. 

“Fuck, Gale, please,” you whined not sure what you were asking for.

He understood nonetheless. He took over then, fucking up into you. Hips snapping into yours in earnest. Each time it seem his cock buried deeper into you. You cried out pressing a hand between the two of you, fingers immediately going to rub against your clit. 

“Shit,” you cried, second orgasm crashing into you almost instantly. You lost balance toppling forward onto Gale. He held you tight, hips bucking up into you wildly now. With a groan he came, pulsing inside of you. 

After a moment he laid back in a move that was more of a collapse, bringing you with him. He tilted his hips in an effort to stay inside of you as you laid against his chest. Both of you trying to catch your breath. 

[whaledenwtf]

Halsin x Druid!Reader - The Forest's Calling

I'm currently HYPERFIXATING on Baldur's Gate 3. This is my love letter to Mount Halsin, the elf I would climb until my limbs fell off. You're welcome (or I'm sorry). Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link Enjoy!

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Choking, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), Kinky DRUID Forest Sex, Misuse of the Entangle Cantrip (hehe), Size Difference

I tried to keep Halsin in character as much as possible, but there is a significant change when y'all get funky

WORD COUNT: 4691

Nature calls to you, as it always had. The sounds of the forest have always been your favourite. Silvanus' creations had made you feel complete. The moss between your toes, and the swaying of trees; you had never felt so much peace during such perilous times. It's at times like this you are gracious for your god's teachings; nature is chaotic as it is gentle, and things will sort them out- if that is what is determined. This is how you kept such a level head during this adventure. Some of your companions saw your level-headedness as worrisome, but you always remind them that to persevere is in the forest's nature, and so it is in yours.

No good ever came from stressing over obstacles in your life.

"If you could stop thinking about the grass for five seconds, I'd appreciate you listening to me. Tch- tree huggers." Astarion tells you annoyed. You look into his crimson eyes and smirk.

"This tree hugger is your key to freedom. Unless you forgot about the tadpole in your brain." Astarion's eyes widen, before he smirks.

"Keep talking dirty, sweetheart. Might not resist taking a bite~" You chuckle.

"Settle down. Like I told you beforehand, we must seek out the Archdruid Halsin before we continue our journey. Nobody could come close to him in terms of knowledge-" Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"Nobody could come close to the information about the ghaik than us githyanki. You istik entertain such useless ideas." You roll your eyes at her. Before you could speak up, Shadowheart speaks to the githyanki.

"Yes. I'm sure your barbaric race would know much more." She says sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, would much rather any other option besides yours." Before Lae'zel could fight back, Karlach speaks to them both.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss already. Wasting time when we could be slaying goblins and getting closer to being free. Stop fucking around and listen to (Y/N)." You nod your head in appreciation to the tiefling.

"Besides, even if Archdruid Halsin does not know how to help us, he may offer his services regardless. Leaving him with the goblins is a fate worse than death. His ally-ship will be indispensable." This appeases those in the group who were unsure of your leadership.

"Always the cunning one, aren't you sweetheart." Astarion speaks up. You turn your head and wink.

"Let's push forward and assist in any way we can." Wyll speaks up. Gale nods, looking over our group.

"Let's be smart and proactive, we do not want to lose eachother, nor do we want to get caught. We shall stay in hiding for as long as possible. Stealth is the best way forward with our little information we have." Astarion taps your chin.

"I like you like this." You smirk at him before leading the group to the Goblin Camp.

After killing every goblin in the vicinity, you all venture forward to a cage where a bear is roaming.

"A bear. He was probably going to be goblin fodder." Astarion says, smirking.

"Hush. Poor thing was being attacked by these goblins." Karlach speaks to him, bumping her shoulder into Astarions. He gasps, the wind being knocked out of him.

"Careful. I bruise like a peach!" He tells her angrily. She chuckles.

"And you're just as bitter as a rotten tomato-" Astarion bristles. You cut him off.

"Settle down, girls. We have time for play later. Show some respect. That bear is our charge." You unlock the iron gate before walking in alone.

"I don't think that's a good idea-" Gale says worriedly, but you shush him. When the bear makes eye contact with you, you see the gold swirling in his eyes. His mouth opens to show his sharp teeth, a warning.

You bow down infront of the bear, laying a hand out towards his snout.

"Are you sure that's... wise, sweetheart?" Astarion asks, concerned. You ignore him before speaking.

"Archdruid Halsin, it is my absolute honour to stand before you. We have come here to free you from your imprisonment and bring you back to the Emerald Grove. May Silvanus preserve us." Without a beat, the bear transforms into a tall, handsome, elf. Your eyes widen at his stature, but more at his beauty.

"Ah, a fellow druid. Silvanus has certainly looked upon me in favour. Thank you for assisting me." You realize you are still kneeling, at crotch level with the Archdruid. Your eyes flicker to his pelvis, and eyes widen at what you see. You rise to your full height, which makes you eye level with his chest. Your head tilts to look into his eyes, and notice him watching you, with a small smirk. He saw you gazing at him, how embarrassing.

"Of course, Archdruid Halsin." He shakes his head softly, braids swaying with the movement.

"Please, call me Halsin. My savior shouldn't have to call me by such a title." You nod, before looking over your shoulder at your companions. They are all looking at the tall elf in shock.

"He just- he just turned into a man!" Astarion says out loud. You chuckle.

"Yes. My preferred wild shape is a bear." He responds to the shorter elf, not looking away from you, glancing over you in curiousity. You turn back to look at him. Your eyes stay locked while you speak to your party.

"Let us leave. We will bring Halsin back to the Emerald Grove and then we can rest. I want to wash off this gods-awful goblin blood before it stains my armour." Everyone nods at that. They turn to walk out, ready to escort Halsin back. You follow your group, Gale and Wyll leading you all forward.

"Thank you, little flower. I truly appreciate you aiding me." Halsin whispers to you, matching your strides behind the group. Little flower... the nickname made you giddy. You blush softly, the heat reaching to the peaks of your ears.

"I can't leave a fellow druid behind. Especially with what those goblins were doing to you." You shake your head, looking over him and the dried blood that caked him from his wild shape form. He chuckles at your worried gaze.

"Nonetheless, the Oakfather has blessed me with your assistance. I am indebted to you for life." You turn to look at him, his easy smile and warm eyes making you feel something... magical.

"The Oakfather has blessed us many times anew. The air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, the forests. But alas, I did come to release you because we need your assistance-" His eyes widen lightly, before he looks down at you.

"What do you need, little flower?" The way he speaks to you is soft, unconcerned of the questions you will ask him. His caring nature speaks to the softest parts of you.

"I will ask you once we bring you to the Emerald Grove. However, I must warn you-" You stop walking and grab his arm. Holy hells his arms are buff. You must have paused for a moment too long.

"What is wrong?" You shake your head at your own thoughts. You're acting like a toddler, instead of the adult elf you are.

"At the Emerald Grove... Kagha is planning to do the Rite of Thorns, and is releasing all the Tiefling refugees..." Halsin's eyes almost bug out of his head.

"We must stop them! That rite does more harm than good! Those Tieflings... fleeing towards death. It is not right!" You tell him passionately. He takes your hand from off his arm and grips it in both his large hands.

" We will stop them, little one." You nod. He continues to hold your hand.

"The shadow curse has been on my mind for so long, I cannot believe I trusted such a-" He shakes his head, cutting himself off.

"We will continue our trek and once we stop the rite, I will tell you all you need to know." You bite your lip.

"If I could help carry your burdens, I would." He chuckles, a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"I'm sure you would, little flower. Now, let us continue our journey. I appreciate you warning me." He lets go of your hand and waves his hand out, gesturing you to go forward, so you do. You can't help the chill that you feel when his hands release yours.

After stopping the rite, you did speak to Halsin about the tadpoles. He sighs when he says he cannot heal you of your affliction. A shiver of fear goes through your body. If someone as knowledgeable with healing like Halsin cannot heal you, you cannot imagine how to move forward. Its then that he tells you that the Shadow-Cursed Lands may be the key to assisting you in your journey. You bite your lip worriedly.

"I will continue to assist you. I will follow your party and do what I can. Not only for the cursed lands, but also for you." He says it with such conviction, such passion, you cannot help but feel safe and warmed from his sentiments.

"I feel indebted to you Halsin. Truly." He shakes his head.

"You will be helping me much more than I, you." You smile up at him. He cannot help but be captured by the radiance of your smile. Oakfather preserve him, you are the most beautiful of his creations.

"I will help you with this shadow curse. Take back nature and restore balance. I just hope I don't grow any tentacles in that time." You say humourlessly, your laugh hollow. He grabs your chin with his hand, his thumb stroking the side of your face.

"I promise on all of the Oakfather's creations, I will not let anything happen to you." Your eyes flutter, and you glance down at his lips before looking back into his eyes.

"Thank you." You whisper to him. His attention is taken elsewhere, and his hand caresses down your neck before releasing you, and moving to the Tiefling asking for him.

You feel this feral need to have him, to help him. You're attracted to him, and you can tell this will be problematic. Oakfather preserve you.

That night, the Tieflings throw a party for you all. The music is loud, and you can see them enjoying themselves. You look over your companions and see all of them enjoying themselves; albeit in their own ways. While looking over the festivities, you see Halsin standing away, gazing over the festivities and people watching. Your eyes make contact and you blush.

"This wine tastes like goblin piss." Astarion tells you, gagging on the swig he just took. You chuckle at him, breaking eye contact with the handsome druid to look over at the vampire.

"Not your type of red drink?" You ask him flirtedly. He smirks at you and leans into you.

"No, sweetheart. My type of red is standing right next to me, as radiant as ever." His face gets close to your neck and he sniffs you deeply.

"All of a sudden, I am thirsting for something else." He tells you. You chuckle at his advances.

"Are you now?" You flirt back. He smirks down at you.

"You're much more fun to speak to like this, sweetheart. I can't help but want a taste." You giggle at him, before taking the wine from his hand and taking a couple mouthfuls.

"Oh gods it does taste like goblin's piss." You splutter out. He laughs at your turmoil.

"Oh darling, you make me laugh." He tells you. You grin at him.

"Glad my misfortunes bring you joy." He smiles at you, sharp teeth glinting in the campfire's light.

"Mm. The only thing that would bring me more joy in this moment is having a taste of you." His voice lowers to a whisper. You roll your eyes.

"Easy there. If I didn't know you better I'd say you're a bard, singing my praises so I could follow you to your tent for the night." You push his chest gently.

"I'm sure I can make you sing, sweetheart." He tells you, looking at you with a smirk.

"As much fun as we would have, I think you've had enough to drink." You tell him jokingly, waving the bottle of wine in his face. You take another swig, and swallow down the bitterness. You go to walk forward, the alcohol driving you to your destination; Halsin.

"Ah, my little flower! It seems you were having fun." Halsin tells you, smile on his face. The crease between his brows tells you that he'd much rather had been the one sniffing your neck, rather than Astarion. You feel a rush of confidence surge through you, aided by the alcohol in your system.

"I decided to turn my attentions elsewhere." You tell him confidently. He smirks at your words.

"Is that so? Well, I am honoured to have such attentions on me." He tells you in a whisper. You almost whimper at his words, feeling hot. You feel as though molten lava has replaced the blood in your veins, and the heat is centralized at the apex of your thighs. You rub them lightly, which catches the elder druid's attention.

"You could have much more than attentions on you tonight, Master Halsin." Your voice lowers to a whisper, and the effect is immediate. His eyes shine golden and his smile becomes wider, more primal. Just like in the Goblin Camp, it was a warning.

"Is that so, little flower? Are you offering yourself to me?" He asks you gently, taking a step forward. You are now flush with his body, and the carvings on his undershirt graze the peaks of your breasts deliciously, hardening them. You moan quietly, looking up at the gargantuan man through your eyelids.

"I'd like to explore you, Master Halsin. See if those rumours of your... generosity are true." You feel his arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back. His fingers seem to tighten, digging softly into your skin.

"You seem to enjoy calling me by my honourifics." You hum, smirking at him.

"I'm just calling you by title. You would like to be my master, would you not?" He growls lowly, much like a bear would.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little one." He tells you huskily. You giggle at him.

"The only games I would like to play are with you, Master." In his eyes you can see him having an inner battle. You take the hand on your waist in yours, which snaps him out of his inner turmoil. The alcohol is rushing through you now, your (very little) inhibitions non-existent now. You pull it closer to your face, before taking a thick finger in your mouth and worshipping it. You kiss at the pad of his forefinger before licking it; inevitably taking it into your mouth and sucking on it softly. He watches you entranced, groaning softly as you let go of his finger with a pop. You take his hand in yours, and pull him towards the edge of the camp, leading to the forest. Once you find the small grove in the forest, you let go of his hand, spinning in place and enjoying the silence of nature. He stays at the edge of the tree line, watching you with sharp eyes.

"Little flower-" Halsin says softly. You turn to look at the man with a smile.

"Our worries are for dawn. With the moonlight shining on us, and the trees as our witness, I would like to show you the pleasures of the flesh, as nature intended." He groans loudly now, far enough from the camp that your voices would not carry.

"I'm afraid to lose myself. The beast-" You pull off your nightshirt, exposing your breasts in the moonlight. You then pull off your pants and undergarments in one shot, fully baring yourself to his sight. He inhales deeply, eyes looking at you up and down multiple times. You begin to to dance sensually, your hips seeming to beckon him forward. He takes a couple of uncertain steps.

"Halsin. I am not one so easily afraid of beasts. Let me help you forget your woes for a night." His resolve seems to crumble, and he runs to you, leaving you both chest to chest.

"Little flower, I will devour you-" You moan, pulling his hair to bring him to your lips. His chapped lips touch yours, and it feels as if there is magic flowing through your bodies. His hands find purchase under your thighs, lifting you up into him. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you moan into his mouth. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, persuading you to open your mouth to his. Your tongues find each other, and a battle of dominance begins. You lose easily, his gifted tongue prodding and licking at yours with wanton need. You release each other to inhale deeply. He inhales from his nose and groans.

"I can smell your need, little one." You whimper, looking into his eyes.

"You're overdressed, Master Halsin. Allow me to undress you." He lets you down out of his embrace, and you begin to untuck his sleepshirt out from his pants and over his head. You begin to untie his pants, helping him out of them as well. That's when you notice he is wearing no undergarments, and his cock is thick and long, closer to the length of your forearm. You whimper, falling to your knees and looking up at him.

"You don't need to please me-" You cut him off.

"I want your cock to hit the back of my throat until I am unable to speak." He moans loudly, before your hand grasps him at the shaft.

"The Oakfather blessed me with such a giving partner. I- Oh Silvanus-" You take him in your mouth, licking at the tip. You taste his musk, and he tastes like pine and mint, and something that makes you absolutely feral. Without a care for your own wellbeing, you try to swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and then some. He groans, eyes closing as one hand finding itself locked in your hair and the other forming a fist at his thigh.

"That's right little druid, take Master's cock into the back of your throat." His voice goes down an octave, and you feel a rush of slick leave you. Taking him out of your mouth, you kiss the shaft downward until you take his heavy balls in your mouth and suckle. You're panting with need, moaning into his skin. You let go of him, one hand stroking his cock and the other inching down your body to touch your cunt. He looks down at you then with hooded eyes, and moans again.

"Are you touching your needy cunt, little flower? I cannot wait to fill you with my seed until your entire being is satiated." You moan, needing him back in your mouth. You remove the hand on his shaft and deepthroat him again, only getting two thirds of his member into your mouth. You hear your need, the wet sounds coming from your pussy only arousing you further. He begins to thrust into your mouth and you choke on him. After making sure you were alright, he continues his movements, thrusts getting rougher. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you off his cock, as he growls.

"I will pound your quim until you are unable to walk without my healing, little one." His hands grip your upper arms and lifts you up to stand. Your face is smeared with his precum and your spittle. Once you are stable on your two feet, he kisses you passionately and you moan into him. His hands are touching you everywhere. His touch is searing hot. His hands find themselves at your breasts, rubbing and pinching the peaks of them.

"O-Oh Halsin. Don't stop." He chuckles into your ear.

"I'm not planning to stop until dawn shows itself." You whimper at his words, thrusting your chest deeper into his ministrations. You hear Halsin whisper before your hands are being pulled behind you, tightly grasped. Your feet are also held up, spreading your legs open. You notice that vines grew from the ground and are holding you up like a platter to Halsin.

"As much as I love your touch, little one, I don't want you to push me off when I get a taste of your ambrosia." You moan loudly, almost caterwauling for the elder druid.

His large hands caress up your leg, massaging the skin of your calves, before going higher.

"I wish you could see yourself as I do in this moment, little flower. You're exquisite; truly one of Silvanus' greatest creations." You blush, heaving.

"H-Halsin, please-" He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"Don't fret, you will be chanting my name soon enough." His confidence is addicting, you could feel how drenched you were even with your legs spread so far apart. His hands finally reach close to your core, and he spreads your slit further open to look at you. You could feel your hole contracting, as if begging for an intrusion.

"By the gods... Look at your tight cunt begging for my cock. Can't wait to have a taste." You feel his breath on you. You look down and see him watching you, as his hands slide up to your breasts to play with your nipples like he had before. The first stroke of his tongue on your clit sent a sensation of pleasure up your spine. You struggle against your bonds, with an insatiable urge to grasp his hair and tug him deeper into you.

His tongue then ventures lower, tasting your essence. He moans loudly into your body, the vibrations of his moan pleasing you greatly. He continues licking you, tasting you as he tweaks your nipples, tugging before massaging. You felt powerless against the bonds, barely hearing anything more than the rush of blood in your ears.

"Your nectar... is just like honey. I can't wait to have you cum on my tongue multiple times." You moan. You can tell you're already close to your precipice, his words, moans and tongue vibrating and licking against your clit deliciously.

"Please... please Master Halsin-" He groans at the honourific. He plunges his tongue into you, lapping you at your source. His nose nudges your clit and that sets off your orgasm. You feel yourself leak onto him, his tongue cleaning your mess. You're shaking with oversensitivity, but he does not stop. One of the hands on your breast caress back down the length of your body, before he pulls away from your core. He grins up at you as he thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. He curls them, as you begin to shake harder.

"That's it, little one. Let all those in the forest know who is making you feel like this, making you cum and feel pleasure-" His words go straight to your core, and more of your slick leaks around his fingers.

"Halsin-H-Halsin- Oh GODS-" His lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking at you. The attention was too much; you cum again. This time, you can feel much more than slick leave your body- did I squirt? You wonder to yourself, as your body is now lashing against the constraints. You didn't have much time to think about it, as he pulls his fingers out to taste you, moaning. You look down at him, panting. He spreads you open again, this time with both hands, before his tongue is back in you, tasting you like you were water and he was a man dehydrated. You whimper, begging him to give you reprieve. He pulls off of you, his mouth and chin covered in your release. He was panting, his eyes glowing a bright amber.

"You have no idea what you unleashed, little one." He growls out. You feel the vines dissipate. You're laid on the forest ground gently. Before he could move, you flip yourself over with enthusiasm, laying your upper body parallel to the floor and your lower body in the air. You wiggle your ass, one of your hands going between your legs and spreading yourself open. You look over your shoulder and look him directly in the eye. He is watching you with wonder, before you speak.

"Breed me, Master Halsin. Empty your seed in me and fuck me into a stupor." He growls, before kneeling behind you.

"I'll make sure you can't walk for weeks, little one. I'll spread you nice and good." You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. He rubs himself up and down your slit, gathering your juices.

"Look how wet you are. Such a good little druid for me." You whimper at his words. Without warning he thrust into you, going to the hilt. His heavy balls hit against your clit, and your mouth goes open in a silent scream. He begins a brutal pace, pounding into you. One of his hands reach around your body, his large hand grasping your neck. His hold is tight, but not painfully so. You feel lightheaded, all your senses being overwhelmed by the Archdruid. You feel as though your floating, the only thing tying you to this plane of existence is the continuous thrusts from the elf behind you. You felt as though you were split open repeatedly, his cock reaching places in you that you were unsure existed before today. He growls as he pounds into you, and you begin to feel claws against your neck, before they retract.

"You make me feral, little one. I'm gonna fill you with my seed, fill you with pups." You moan, breathless. His thrusts begin to falter, but they seem to go deeper. You feel yourself fluttering around him, as you gasp.

"I-I'm close." You whisper to him. He groans.

"I feel you fluttering around me, little one." He chokes out. After a handful of thrusts he cums with a shout, and you constrict around him, cumming once more. You feel his seed in you, so abundant that it leaks out around him. You both pant for a couple seconds. He releases your neck and you gasp an inhale.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks you softly. You shake your head enthusiastically.

"N-no. Oh gods Halsin. I am unsure how I will walk right ever again." You tell him breathlessly. He chuckles at that, caressing your back and thighs with gentleness. You feel him slowly pull out of you, taking care to not punish your core anymore. You whimper at the loss, feeling your mixed spend leaking out of you. He flips you over softly, wanting to look you over. His hand goes to finger you lazily. You shriek, body seizing up.

"Not a drop goes to waste." He tells you huskily. After a couple moments, he pulls his fingers out too, and directs them to your mouth. You suckle on the digits, the taste arousing you once more. You both look into each other's eyes as you did this. Once he removes his fingers from your mouth, his lips replace it, tasting both of you on his tongue. He groans into your lips. You kiss for a couple moments, before you both need to separate so you could inhale. You felt utterly spent. He goes to lie down next to you, and your eyes follow him.

His hands begin to massage your sore muscles, before pulling you onto him. You felt utterly spent. He holds you into a lover's embrace and you can't help but sigh into his chest, caressing his pectorals and cuddling into him. You feel his lips on the crown of your head, leaving a trail soft pecks and kisses. You both lay there, absorbing the beauty of nature and speaking about your lives before the parasite and the shadow curse until the sun rose.

END

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown; Part 2

Part 1 here ; You can also read on Ao3.

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (male masturbation, dom/sub undertones, switch dynamics, choking is briefly mentioned), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment, domestic violence and past child abuse, jealousy.

Series Summary:

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Notes: We are getting a little spicy! I love these two, we should have another update soon-ish. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

Baldur’s Gate was busy.

After so long in the Underdark and then the Shadowcursed lands, Tav felt strangely crowded by the amount of people in the streets. And her mental list of tasks was getting longer by the minute. There was so much to do, and time was not on their side given the regular psionic earthquakes shaking the city. As she got them all settled in a room at the Elfsong (discounted thanks to a nasty murder in the room just next door) she wanted one night to get her wits about her.

Most everyone went their separate ways for the night: Shadowheart teamed up with Lae’zel to go speak with Voss, Halsin felt the need to shut himself up in the room, Jaheira had Harper business to attend to, while Wyll and Karlach went searching some old haunts for any friends that may still have been in the city. Gale and Astarion accompanied Tav downstairs to the pub, where they all delightfully wanted to share some quality drinks rather than the beggar's choices they had been drinking on the road. A familiar voice rang out amongst the crowd, singing a jaunty tune that had some nearby patrons singing along. 

“That’s Alfira!” Tav said excitedly. 

The bard had her audience’s gleeful attention, and nearby Tav spotted Lakrissa watching on. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find another familiar face. The tieflings had set off for Baldur’s Gate shortly after the battle, ready to finally get to their destination now that the road was clear. The party had only crossed paths with them again just before entering Rivington. Rolan, Cal, Lia, Alfira and Lakrissa had joined them for a night of drinking to celebrate.

It was no party as they had after the Grove, but it was a much needed night of relief after the constant threat of the curse. Tav found herself wandering over to talk to him as often as she could. He was like a new person: excitement palpable at the prospect of finally making it to Ramazith’s Tower. She’d never seen him smile so much, and while she would never call him giddy — he was as close as Rolan could possibly be to such a state. 

The next night the tieflings left, and with them the rosy glow of victory dissipated. The tadpole crew  had been attacked by Githyanki and had to run to their Dream Guardians aid. only to find out that the mysterious entity in the prism was in fact a mindflayer called The Emperor. 

The idea that the one thing saving her was the very creature which she was actively trying not to change into felt poetic somehow. Fucked up to be sure, but poetic. 

Tav’s eyes danced along the crowd, looking for horns and flashes of red skin. Her excitement spiked, “look! It’s Cal and Lia.”

Astarion groaned, “here we go.”

“What?” 

“The tieflings are a charming group but everytime we cross them they need saving,” he said. “We really don’t have time for more heroics, darling, we got them to the city. Let them fend for themselves.”

“They’re friends, Astarion,” Gale scolded lightly.

“Needy friends.”

“I know all about those,” she gave him a pointed look. 

Astarion made a show of pouting, and batting his eyelashes which made Gale chuckle slightly into his cup. Their resident vampire couldn’t quite blush, but she saw his lips twitch in a sweet smile as he looked at Gale. 

“I’m going to say hello,” Tav said promptly, standing and grabbing her glass. “You two stay here and canoodle or whatever it is you get up to.” 

“Canoodle,” Astarion gagged the word. “You’re rubbing off on her now, Wizard.” 

“Expanding one’s vocabulary is nothing to scoff at!” 

“Having one walking encyclopedia is more than enough,” Astarion blithely retorted, “two would be intolerable.”

Tav was already making her way across the room as the two started bickering, her presence forgotten quickly as they started in on what she had to believe was their own special form of foreplay. As she came up, Lakrissa spotted her with a happy wave and she plopped down on the seat next to Cal. 

“It’s you!” He said happily. “When did you get here?”

“Just got into the city today. We crashed Gortash’s coronation and then nabbed the suite upstairs.” 

“Do you ever stop?” Lia asked aghast. “Less than a week ago you were infiltrating Moonrise.” 

“I wish I could stop,” Tav took a long drink. “It’s one thing after the other.”

“Being a hero is a full time job then?” Lia smirked. 

“More than full time,” Tav said. “And the pay is shit.” 

Lia laughed, “in that case, I’ll buy you a drink.” 

As Lia stood to head to the bar, Tav turned to Cal. “You lot made it in okay? No trouble?”

“Smoothest part of the journey. We got here just before they closed off the gate,” he said. “Lia’s already got work, and we’ve got a shoddy little place around here.” 

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tav touched his shoulder. “Rolan must be so happy.” 

At the mention of his brother, Cal’s smile fell for a moment, but he quickly said, “he’s been working hard.” 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smiled, “is he staying with you?”

“No, he stays at the tower,” Cal said. “We… we haven’t seen much of him since we arrived.”

“Oh,” Tav said dumbly. Something felt off. 

“He writes though, just today he sent us some of his earnings,” Cal said. “We go to the shop to see him, but he makes us leave. Doesn’t want anyone to think he’s mucking about.”

Tav’s frown deepened. “I’ve got to head to Sorcerer's Sundries, maybe I can get him to come out for a drink.” 

“We’d like that,” Cal smiled. 

The first time he can remember his father hitting his mother was because she took the blame for a broken glass. Rolan hadn’t meant to, he was toying with the weave, practicing from a book he was borrowing and the spell went wrong. It shattered the glass into a million shards. 

He and his mother had looked at each other for split moment before she grabbed the biggest pieces and put them in the sink. When his father stormed in, she apologized, showing a bloody hand from the glass. Her apology hadn’t mattered, nor had tears or begging. They never did. After she died there was no one else to take the blame or the beatings. Rolan had always been tall, taller than all of his friends, but he was lanky and awkward. His hands were never comfortable in the shape of a fist, his arm never created the momentum to do any damage. He tried; every time his father’s fist made contact all Rolan felt was hot fury, his arms flailing and seeming to slide off of his target. It wasn’t until the hot fury turned into a witchbolt that he ever felt on even ground with his father. Rolan had left the house leaving him in as bad of shape as he always left his son, for once. 

He never went back into that house after that night. 

The bruises currently on his face felt nostalgic in a way that turned his stomach. Lorroakan and his father were similar in a sense that everything and nothing turned their moods, but his new master had the unfortunate upper hand of also having magic at his disposal. He had worked too hard to get where he was to up and leave the apprenticeship. Too much suffering, too much sacrifice; there would be no running to Cal and Lia’s doorstep as in his youth. He had to stick it out until he was in a position to claim something better. 

His mind had justified the beatings as a test, perhaps on keeping the mind focused even under threat. If he let the inkling that he had been duped linger too long he felt a shame and rage that was unbearable. So he put his head down, he worked hard, he took the beatings and he learned. Not from Lorrokan, but from other tellers around the shop. From the books Tolna suggested with her whispers becoming more conspiratorial and her eyes sympathetic. He hadn’t been to see Cal and Lia in days. 

He knew how they would react. His plan was to wait until the bruising went down and then face them again. Rolan’s position at the front was never boring, there was no way Sorcerer’s Sundries could ever be boring, he was convinced. It was incredibly busy, people coming in for protections against the threat of the cult that was at the doorstep of the city. He didn’t think twice when an armored group of four walked through the doors, just continued making sure the stock requisition forms were correct. 

“Rolan!”

That voice. For a moment he forgot that he had been beaten to a pulp the night before, too distracted by excitement when he looked up and saw her. Gale, Astarion and the Archdruid fell behind as Tav bound up to the front desk. 

“Tav,” he  greeted, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile fell a bit and her eyes flicked over his face. “Rolan, you - you look a little… worse for wear.” She frowned, “what happened to your face?” 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” The stinging of the cut on his lip splitting with his forced smile made him aware of how badly he looked again.  And Tav looked unconvinced. 

“Hardly a place to learn, working behind a desk,” Halsin commented. 

“This is my… apprenticeship.” He shrugged. “It has not been what I expected. Master Lorroakan is a… difficult man.” 

There was a crackle of static, the light shining from behind Tav’s eyes. He saw her take a deep breath, and place an easy smile on her face. Saving him his dignity, he’d presume. 

“He’s consumed by this pursuit of the Nightsong. I haven’t learnt a thing, and I fear it will stay that way.”  

“A lucky escape,” Gale chimed in, “given Lorroakan’s reputation. He’d have little of value to teach you.” 

Rolan smiled in thanks. “But never mind that. What can I do for you?”

Tav looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to start but she hesitated. Finally, she said, “funny you mention it, we actually have information about the Nightsong.”

Rolan leveled her with a serious look. A pit forming in his stomach. “Be very sure before you make a visit to Lorroakan,” he warned, “he’s got a beastly temper.” At her raised eyebrow at the comment, he quickly added, “but if you really do know something, he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs, you can find the way into his tower up there.” 

“We will,” she nodded. 

“Before we speak with your… beastly master,” Gale chimed in, “might you direct us in the direction of where we can find tomes of a rare nature?”

“Tolna handles tomes,” he said, “just around this pillar.” 

“Wonderful, thank you,” Gale said, then leaned in, “if you want a real teacher, the Elfsong is our home for the duration of our stay.” He winked before he walked away, ushering Astarion and Halsin away with him.

“Rolan,” Tav said. 

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he wanted to. “There’s nothing you can do.” 

“Has that ever stopped me before?”

“I mean it,” his temper flared, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then, “your party will be waiting for you.”

“Come by tonight,” she said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I owe you a bottle of Arabellan Dry.”

She walked away then. He tried not to let his gaze follow her, but it did anyway, interrupted by a customer coming up to the desk. And then another. Incapable of controlling the desire to look at her, he turned to Tolna’a corner of the shop.  Tav was looking at him, a darker look than he had seen before. She looked away quickly when she was caught, speaking with Tolna until they decided to make their way up the stairs. 

If Lorroakan laid a finger on her, Rolan was not sure he could contain himself. She could handle herself, she had her friends by her side even if she couldn't, but he would never forgive himself if she came down those steps with a single mark from his bastard master.

He wasn’t sure how long they were up there, speaking to his master. But when they came down she was storming towards the entrance, not looking back, with her party following as they always did. At the very least she looked unharmed, if not furious. He opened his mouth to call after her, but someone came up to the counter and he had to keep himself from chasing after her.

After his shift, he withstood the usual line of questions watching Lorroakan closer than ever. The man seemed unharmed, a little angrier than usual, but so distracted he waved Rolan off after one sharp smack across his face. It was not too late, and the walk to the Elfsong was not terribly long.

Rolan made it to the door of the inn, people were gathered outside speaking, the doors open and letting the sounds of revelry spill into the street. There was no initial sight of anyone he knew from his spot on the threshold of the door. The idea of pretending everything was fine made his stomach churn, in fact, he was not sure he was capable of it. 

Every negative emotion he ever harbored only ever warped into an anger he was still learning to temper. He was angry and ashamed and the pub was too loud so he turned around. Cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her or know if she had confronted Lorroakan on his behalf. Ever since she had come back from Moonrise separate from the freed prisoners, an uncomfortable parallel had drawn itself in his mind. 

Seeing her bruised and bloody always reminded him of his mother bearing wounds and blame that were meant for him.

When Rolan didn’t show up at the Elfsong, it had stung. She tried not to take it personally, she tried not to think too much on it, but there she was alone with an unopened bottle of his favorite wine. She was sat dejectedly around the unused pipe the room came with, sitting on some of the pillows that littered the floor. 

“Well, no point in letting it go to waste,” Astarion sighed, feigning actual sympathy for her situation as he sat with her, “may as well crack it open.” 

She tugged it closer to her protectively. “I owe him this bottle, I’ll bring it to him when we go back.” 

Astarion gave her a look that not even the tadpole needed to decipher: it screamed ‘you can’t be serious.’ She felt her face heat up, and looked away. 

“If I knew you liked your sweethearts a little mean I would have gone about my seduction much differently,” he finally teased. 

“And you think you were what? Sweet?” 

“Not sweet,” he conceded, “more… sultry.” 

“Well it seemed to work on Gale,” she muttered. 

Astarion leveled her with a half-hearted glare. “I thought you weren’t interested. I could always ask him if he’s up for a third.” 

“No, thank you,” she shuddered dramatically. “That’s too much ego for me.” 

“Afraid you couldn’t keep up, darling?”

“I’m afraid I won’t fit into the bed,” she scoffed, “it’s remarkable enough that the pair of your giant heads fit into one room.” 

Astarion chuckled a little. “It’s not  just our  heads that are big, my dear.”

Tav launched a pillow at him, and his true laugh, high pitched and unrehearsed echoed making her smile. “I suppose we ought to tell Dame Aylin about Lorroakan.”

Astarion hummed. “I do want to see her rip him in half, but we just settled in for the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“The morning sounds good,” Tav nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

When she had discovered Lorroakans goals for Aylin, Tav found an opportunity present itself. While he had his own head up his ass, and was a cruel bastard, she could feel his power even by just standing in the room. She had more than enough reasons to blast him out of the window; he wanted to imprison Aylin, he had been rather rude to Gale, and then there was the state of Rolan’s face. 

Gods, she could have sent a fireball in his face for that alone. 

But he was powerful. And having Dame Aylin at their side to rid the world of his wretched smirking face would probably be a good idea. And Tav supposed it would mean a lot to Aylin to take down another megalomaniac that wanted to use her for immortality. After hundreds of years of imprisonment she could offer her new ally that. 

“He’s very proud,” Astarion said suddenly. 

“Lorroakan? Proud is putting it lightly.” 

“Rolan,” Astarion emphasized. 

“Oh.” 

“When we found you by the lake I thought he might hit you,” Astarion was not looking at her, but his tone had a rare tinge of sincerity. 

“Oh, no, Astarion, no,” Tav said immediately. “He was angry, but he had just saved me. Pulled me out of the lake and I — I said some unkind things.” 

“I’m only saying,” Astarion seemed to bolster every genuine fiber of his being to say, “you ought not sit around sullenly for a man who is only ever angry at you for helping him. There’s plenty of people whose eye you’ve caught, you hardly have to settle for someone who can’t be bothered to show up.” 

It hurt to hear, but there may have been a tinge of truth to it. Still, Astarion had not been there by the lake when he shared his last bottle with her. She’d seen something in him that night, something that plagued her thoughts when the rest of camp went quiet and she was alone. It was some unknown depth she had yet to reach, and desperately wanted to. 

She shook her head. “You still can’t have this bottle. I’m a woman of my word.” 

“Spoilsport,” he pouted. 

The moment passed, and they went about the night without mentioning Rolan. Except when Gale came to sit with them and inquired after him to which Astarion elbowed him hard enough to make the Wizard wheeze. For the rest of the night it was business as usual with her friends and as she fell asleep she found herself wondering  if Astarion was right to be warning her off of these feelings that had bloomed. 

An ungodly crash shook the building, raining down glass upon the patrons and stopped only by some quick thinking on Tonlu’s behalf. Shortly after Tav and her crew came storming through the door and without even a passing glance they ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower. 

“Hey! What are you —“ 

When none of them were stopped by his exclamation, he jumped over the desk to follow them up.  As he followed them into their portal of choice, Lorroakan stood confronting an incredibly tall otherworldly looking winged woman. 

Tav stood a decent distance behind, her arms folded over her chest and her stance sturdy. He had rarely seen her in action, and the one time he had it was a dark chaotic whirl when she saved him from the Shadow Curse. Gale stood at her side, even his demeanor in the face of confrontation had changed from its normal welcoming smile to a stern focus. Karlach was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, and the Archdruid stood still but there was something about his demeanor which resembled a creature about to pounce. In all honesty, they were terrifying. 

“What are you so scared of magus? Not the Nightsong, surely, she’s nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.” The winged woman seethed. 

Rolan was brought out of his awe at Tav and her companions. He stared at the winged woman. “My gods, the Nightsong is a person?”

“Boy! At the ready,” Lorroakan commanded, “once I’ve taken control of the aasimar she must go directly into the caging runes.”

Everything in him rejected the idea. He felt Tav’s eyes on him, leaving him bolstered by righteousness “No, Master Lorroakan,” he said firmly, “I would never have assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.” He would not be cowed by the rage that slipped onto Lorroakan’s face. “You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic.” He turned to Tav, “I  have seen what true leadership can accomplish — “ and finally to his master, “but never under your tutelage.” 

“Watch your tongue, you child,” Lorroakan hissed, “I could make it such that no wizard in the realm will touch you.” 

“If they’re all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain,” Rolan shot back.

This pleased the aasimar, who rallied a truly hateful laugh, “face us, charlatan! We who detest you so.”

Then it was a blur of violence.

 Rolan kept his focus on Lorroakan as did the Nightsong. Tav and her friends kept the myrmidon’s he had summoned at bay after making quick work of his assistant. Tav was a storm of magic, untamed and rawly powerful. She moved in perfect tandem with her companions, they knew how to leave room for attacks, when to parry and duck. 

Rolan had to focus. Keeping Lorroakan from blocking or containing the Nightsong was no easy feat. He threw counter spell after counter spell, surprising himself every time his will overpowered his former master’s. The fire myrmidon sent a blaze of fire toward him — not enough to truly hurt him but it broke his focus. With a yell, he saw Tav fly to get in position and then call down a chain of lightning which stuttered the movements of the myrmidon and rained down on its allies. Even Lorroakan was hit. 

Finding an opening, Rolan deployed an onslaught of magic missiles which hit him in instant succession. Lorroakan fell to his knees in a daze. Behind them, he saw Gale finish off one of the myrmidon’s and Karlach made quick work of another. The Archdruid had taken the shape of a bear, claws shredding the armor of the third. Tav very nearly pushed him out of the way as another hail of fire fell on them, the smell of burning hair and flesh filling the room. She gave an angry yell, thunder boomed and the construct of fire hit the wall before turning to ash. 

Just as he was going to ask if she was okay, Lorroakan howled. They watched as the Nightsong lifted the famed master of Razamith’s Tower and snapped his spine in half over her armored knee. 

It was cathartic, and quite the relief when she tossed him onto the floor as if he were nothing. 

He watched as she left, wordlessly, in a haze of feathers and silver light. 

“Lorroakan is dead,” he said, in disbelief. “The Bastard is dead.” 

“Are you alright?” Tav asked. 

“I am, now that the bastard is in bits,” he smiled a little. “Lorrokan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I’d tend the shop. By night, he’d fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I’d answered wrong he’d beat me.” 

Flashes of the nights spent in the tower flickered by, Lorrokan’s pale skin in his memories sometimes replaced by red skin and eyes that matched his own. He looked away from Tav’s intent stare. 

“I could have killed him with my own two hands,” he breathed, “but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be.” At her patient gaze, her friends, maybe their friends, standing by just as understanding he found himself unfurling. “I thought it was the price to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sorry, Rolan,” Tav said. “You were so looking forward to your apprenticeship.” 

“I see things clearly now,” he shook his head, “if I wish to master the weave, I must do it myself.” She didn’t look convinced. “Thankfully I have everything I need, right here.”

“More than everything,” Gale said. “You’ll make a fine wizard, Rolan.”

“Thank you.” 

“You should go to Lia and Cal. They’re worried sick, mate.” Karlach piped up. 

“I’ll move them in right away,” he assured her. “Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. They are gonna love the tower.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Tav smiled, but it was weak and somewhat forced. 

She was singed by the fire myrmidon. A few of her hairs were singed, she had ash on her face and an angry burn just below her chin. Tav had looked worse, he knew, but again he understood the gravity of what she had done for him. Even inadvertently.

Instead of anger, he felt deep gratitude and finally the means to pay her back. 

“I wouldn’t have all this — the tower, my family — if it weren’t for you.” At once Tav’s face shifted to something softer, the storm in her eyes quelled. “What can I do to thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him. 

Before he could respond, Gale cleared his throat. “Certainly, Tav’s generosity is to be commended but,” he said, “we could make use in the way of supplies and… access to some of the rarer tomes.”

Tav winced slightly. “Supplies would be helpful,” she admitted. “And Gale has tunnel vision about a book that’s hidden in the tower.”

“I’d be happy to assist,” he nodded his head. “I’ve yet to journey into the vaults, we can figure them out together.”

“An excellent idea,” Gale nodded with a slight bow. “Perhaps we may also employ Astarion’s assistance, he’s the pilfering sort.”

“He may have stolen some material components when we were here last,” Tav seemed mortified but Karlach was cackling behind her. 

“You can have whatever you like,” Rolan said quickly. “Leave only the scrolls and tomes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “We’ll — erm — let you settle in.”

“Before you go, know this,” Rolan quickly gathered his courage, “Ramazith’s tower and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand with you as allies.” 

“Enjoy your new digs!” Karlach called as they turned to leave. 

“We will be back soon,” Gale assured him.

Tav had nothing else to say to him as she left. 

It was a bit awkward as Tav, Gale, Astarion and Rolan ventured into the vaults. 

Rolan and Gale were getting along swimmingly, volleying knowledge and theories off of each other. Astarion hung back with Tav, unlocking doors as needed, but lingering behind the two wizards gushing over the hidden collection of Ramazith’s. The tiefling was rather charming, she found, when he was matched in wit and interest. Perhaps it was Gale’s own warm nature that brought it out of him, but regardless, Tav found herself watching the two of them interact so easily with an uncomfortable prickle under her skin.

She’d never been so annoyed at Gale before, not even when he nearly blew them all up in the name of forgiveness for his ex. He also thought he would be saving the world, but even so — the fact he even considered it worth mentioning had made her want to smack him. Now she just wished he’d shut up. 

“I think one wizard is more than enough,” Astarion said blithely. “You needn’t bring this one back to our rooms.”

“He has a big fancy tower now,” Tav replied. “Our suite at the Elfsong looks like a hovel in comparison.”

“Do you think they’d even notice if we left?” 

“Probably not.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. Tav felt his eyes slinking toward her. “Shall we take off without them?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”

It was a terrible idea and they had quite a few burns to show for it. They had stumbled upon an armory, full to the brim with enchanted armors and weapons. Of course, the room had vaulted a fireball at them at Astarion’s initial failure to pick a magical lock. But a column of alabaster had saved them from being incinerated, only the immeasurable heat had gotten them. Tav was, as Gale had so diplomatically put it at the start of their journey, not studied in magic. She just was magic, always had been.

Her knowledge of the arcane only went so far beyond what she felt. She knew spells, knew the names of them, but she mostly just went with her gut at what to throw around and found its name later. When faced with a room full of enchanted objects, she only could pick them up to see what they did. Some of it came with tags that had details of the magical abilities they held, but at some point Lorroakan had taken to hoarding rather than cataloging. 

Tav slipped on a ring, basic in appearance, a simple gold band with writing engraved around its circumference and felt herself thrust into a state of unbeing. She could see Astarion, but around him was a whirl of  chaos. Energies of different colors collided and roared, in a cacophony that felt somehow familiar but overwhelming. Her hand reached out and a trail of lightning wrapped around her arm. She knew the tingling zap of it well, the rumble of thunder taking the place of her heart beat and the soft spray of rain. But it became too much, the sear of the lightning overtaking her and she wrenched the ring off. 

“Tav where the hells did you go?” Astarion asked.

“Did I go somewhere?” 

“You disappeared!” He said. “Is that a ring of invisibility?” 

“Definitely not,” Tav said, quickly taking off her vambraces where her skin still tingled. 

“Oh, my,” Astarion looked down at her arm. “Have you always had that?”

Her forearm was covered in white divuts that spidered out and glowed slightly. As if lightning lived there in her arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if the remnants of a touch were electrically charged. Her and Astarion were still enraptured by the marks when the door flew open. 

“There you two are,” Gale said. “By Mystra’s eyelids, you can’t go wandering off in a highly guarded wizard’s tower!”

“By who’s eyelids, darling?”

Even without knowing all the details of their relationship, Tav could see the coldness in Astarion’s eyes and the flood of tension that took over the room. Gale looked as if he had fallen into a frozen lake. Something was transpiring between her friends and she felt as if she was not supposed to see it. 

“Look what we found!” Tav said  to Rolan who stood back with arms folded and looking unamused. “An armory!”

“Is that so?” 

She bounded up to him, if only to get away from the unspoken conversation happening between Gale and Astarion. 

“What happened to your arm?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” 

Rolan leveled her with a look. 

“I put on this ring, and Astarion said I disappeared — “ Rolan’s eye actually twitched, so she barreled on before he could yell, “but I could see him it was just like I don’t know, everything around was just energy. And something reached out to grab my hand and it felt like my magic, like my own magic was holding my hand!” She was excited despite the unusual state of her arm. “And when I took it off I had this.” 

He grabbed her arm, fingers running over the divots and inspecting it. Turning it over, his nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of the inside and dragged over her palm. A pleasurable shudder rippled down her spine. 

“Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” she felt her brain zap, “no.” 

It felt very good. 

“They’re fading.” 

Now that she looked at it, the glow was siphoning away very slowly. “Huh.” 

Rolan brought her arm closer for him to inspect. His hands were incredibly warm. As he asked her questions about what she saw, she found herself answering almost dazedly. It was only after he seemed to have asked all the questions he could and was simply holding her arm in quiet contemplation that she realized he was rubbing his thumb along her skin. 

“Rolan,” she said quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I have my arm back?”

He dropped it as if it flooded him with an electric shock. “You seem fine. Please refrain from playing with magical artifacts you have no idea how to properly use.” 

“That’s no fun.”

His eye twitched again. 

“Erm,” she said, “did you find Karsus’ book?”

Rolan’s eyes slid over her shoulder, back where Astarion and Gale were. He motioned for her to follow him, and around the same pillar of stone which had saved her and Astarion,  he led her out of the room. 

“We found the book.” 

“Oh, good,” she said. “Gale says it’s integral for figuring out how to deal with the Elder Brain.”

“Yes,” Rolan said quietly. “What do you know of Karsus?”

“Only what Gale has told me,” she replied. “Fall of netheril, tried to become a god, - just the juicy stuff.”

“Then you know how it ended last time someone played with that kind of power.”

“I do.” 

“Gale is an immensely talented and knowledgeable wizard,” Rolan prefaced.

“Got a crush, do you?”

The tone of her voice was a little more pointed than she liked. An ugly thing inside of her scratching at her chest at his praise of Gale. Which was unreasonable. Gale was everything he said; Gale was one of her best friends. There was no reason for her to be acting this way. 

Rolan frowned. “I’m not trying to argue with you nor insult him, I’m only letting you know there was something about the way he talked about the crown, and the book. Please, keep an eye on him.”

Tav remembered how Gale had reacted to first seeing the crown, and then to the way he had near badgered her about finding the book. He had to correct himself when he talked about what the crown would do for him — the quick addition of for us that he added as an afterthought. 

Tav nodded. 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “You’ve helped my family a hundred times over. I owe it to you to do the same.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She corrected. She hated how transactional it sounded. 

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, an edge to his voice that she knew spelled trouble. 

“Angry? No.”

Yes. No? She wasn’t sure. She almost wanted to pick a fight. It seemed to be the only time he ever gave her any mind. She didn’t know arcane history, couldn’t gush over magical theory with him — and he had never shown up for that bottle of wine. He only paid attention to her when he was upset with her. She wanted to needle at him, to make herself the focus of that blazing amber gaze even if he was snarling at her. 

Astarion was walking out of the room, jolting them out of the staring contest they were having. “Send him back when you’re done with him,” Astarion waved at Rolan. “He wants to identify some of those objects.” 

He walked off, an air of finality about his path. Something had happened. Her role of leadership reared its head, if there was dissent amongst the camp it was her job to temper it. 

“You have to go,” he said.

“Duty calls.” She sighed. “Thank you for the warning. We will drop by again, I’m sure.”

Rolan only nodded in reply and she set off. 

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Only in crowds would she thaw. He’d been making his way to the Eflsong with Lia and Cal, under the guise of watching Alfira perform or to see Lakrissa. The team of heroes often joined them, sometimes looking worse for wear but never bringing whatever challenges they were facing with them. Tav talked when everyone was around, talked to him and was friendly enough. But they never had a moment alone.

 Even if they did he was not sure what he would say. Being the new owner of Ramazith’s was a full time endeavor; if he wasn’t experimenting he was busy trying to manage the shop. More and more people were turning up for protective measures against the string of events which threatened the city. Cal and Lia helped, happy to have a place to live and a job. It was becoming a rather fluid family business. 

But when the day slowed down or at night when laid in bed in Lorroakan’s reclaimed room, his mind drifted always to her. If he saw her at the bar that night he had committed to memory what she wore, any new cuts and bruises, and how the old ones were healing. His hand would drift under his trousers, gently massaging his length as it swelled with interest at the thought of her.

Every peak of cleavage where that damned pearl pendant dangled so teasingly where he wanted to kiss was seared into his mind. Each glance at her leaning over the bar to speak with Alan and order a round of drinks for everyone had him begging to grab at the swell of her bottom. Her eyes when she had stared Lorroakan down before she erupted in a flurry of magic. The calm before the storm of her wrath. How they would soften for her friends, and even him when she glanced over. 

Rolan would stroke himself to different imaginings of her. His gallant hero riding him, hands on his chest and glorious as she chased her pleasure. Or beneath him, soft and pliant for once, only for him. Teasing but humbled as he was a benevolent but stern authority, until she finally allowed him to experience the bliss of her submission. To let him take care of her for once.

He could even be the submissive, he thought despite never having considered it before, imagining cooing praise as he gave her whatever she wanted. Gods, he knew she would take him apart in ways he could never recreate with anyone else. He would trust her to hold her hand around his throat, to lovingly claw at his skin, to whisper words of adoration in contrast to the way she had control of his very breath in her grip.He would spill over into his own hand with visions of her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. She was, so far unwittingly, boring her way into his mind the same way the illithids had done to her. 

But that very tadpole had kept her very busy. The trouble in Baldur’s Gate only grew more intense. Everyone had seen less of her crew as the days went on, only Alfira or Lakrissa getting glimpses of them racing to and fro at the inn day in and out. Everything was coming to a catalyst, he could feel it in the air. It was bad enough that his family had viewed Baldur’s Gate as a haven only to find it on the verge of chaos, now the very object of his desires was at the very center of it all. Storybooks often spoke about the plight of heroes, rarely did they touch upon the abject misery of the ones who loved them.

Watching them destroy their bodies, minds and hearts to be brave enough to save the day. Unable to do anything but offer mere pittances. And Tav wouldn’t even allow him to do that. 

In the midst of his musings on her one night as they closed the shop, a violent earthquake shook the city. They were more common these days but this one felt different, it lasted longer, the tremor nearly knocked potion bottles off the wall and the whole city seemed to freeze moments after it passed. 

“Do you think it’s them?” Cal had asked, breaking the terrified silence. 

“It always is.”

They had gone to the Elfsong after the shop was locked up. All agreeing that their friends might need them, even if just to buy them a drink. When he arrived, the place was packed. Voices loud as people theorized and panicked over drinks, not even Alfira’s songs could carry over the din. 

Their heroes were nowhere to be seen. 

They found Lakrissa, who was attempting to be a one woman crowd for Alfira. “Have they returned? Do they know what’s going on?”

Lakrissa looked grim. “We saw the Archdruid carrying someone small  — maybe a halfling or a gnome or something — up the stairs. They looked bad.”

Rolan felt his stomach plummet through the wood floor. 

“Tav came down to grab wine, Alfira said she was heading up to the roof when she came down to perform.” 

Rolan was turning for the stairs before Lakrissa finished the sentence. Something was off. He passed by the suite which he knew her party was in, voices were low but they were in there. He saw the open hatch and climbed up with a grunt.

The roof was not lit up, but the city lights allowed for a low glow that partially blotted out the stars. The crescent moon above was not much helpful but it was out clear as day. He spotted a figure, alone, slumped over at the far end of the roof. Even in the dark he knew it was her. 

He approached only to be met with her calling, in slurred together words, “‘ready told you, Karlach. I don’ wanna watch you arm wrestle Minsc.”

“They should sell tickets to that,” he said in response. “You’d all be rich.”

She turned around sharply. “S’ you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“M’pissed, and miserable,” she slurred. “Not good,” she belched, “company.” 

It was oddly charming, despite her drooping eyes and the way she dryly licked her lips after. He was so used to her being a force of unflappable willpower and leadership, seeing her just be a person who gets piss drunk to drown her sorrows was novel. Rolan sat next to her, amongst a small nest of pillows and blankets Alfira and Lakrissa had put up there when they first got to the city. Tav looked out at the water. 

“I wanna go swimming.”

“I think the Chionthar is only slightly safer than a cursed lake,” he replied. “Best stay on land.”

“No fun.”

Despite her attempts at lightning the mood everything felt off. She leaned her chin on the stone wall that she sat in front of. The bottle in her hand precariously tipped. 

“I felt that quake earlier, your doing?”

“killed a Bhaalspawn.” She said plainly. “Stole a netherstone. Brain is getting restless.”

If anyone else had strung those words together it would have been utter nonsense. 

“Thats good, isn’t it? You ought to be celebrating.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “No celebrating.”

“What happened?”

“Bhaalspawn bitch took Yenna,” she sniffed. 

The little girl they had picked up in Rivington. Rolan had yet to meet her, but she had been their newest addition. Rolan recalled being horrified that they allowed a child in their camp, given their circumstances. He thought it might not be a good idea to bring that up, just then.

“Is she alright?”

“Physically? Sure.”

It was quiet again. He heard her breathing pick up, a wet swallow. 

“They made her eat her fucking cat.” She spat, voice cracking. “She’s ten years old. Lost her mother, and all she had was Grub. They took her from right under my nose. Killed the damn cat and made her eat it.” 

When he looked over he saw tears, his heart stuttering. Half unsure what to do in the face of such a horrifying thing to imagine and half desperate to hold her. 

“Everywhere I go,” she said distractedly, “there’s just blood and horror.” She pulled a long drink of wine from the bottle. “And everyone’s fucking lost it in this city. Gale wants to become a God, and we all know it’s just to get back at Mystra — they ought to call her the bitch queen — and just two days ago I had to talk Astarion out of  the right of ascension — 2000 people he was going to sacrifice!” She was ranting, hiccups and sobs breaking through every once in a while. “Karlach’s given up. Shadowheart’s parents — we looked for them and she  fought so hard and they’re just gone. Lae’zel wants me to make a deal with a devil, and poor Wyll,” she sniffled. “His dad — he — and Mizora that cunt! We have to find his dad.” She had her head in her hands. “There’s still one more netherstone, we have to get the hammer, then there’s the brain.”

“You need to breathe,” he reached out. 

“I’m not meant to do this!” She yelled suddenly. “I’m not — I’m supposed to take over my mum and dad’s stupid pub, I’m supposed to be at home, with my little sister and my mother.”

“Tav,” he tried to interrupt.”

“Instead I’m here, and I’ve got this thing in my head and they want time to lead them — and I don’t know why! I’m nothing — no one — I don’t know what to do —“

“Sweetheart, stop,” he pleaded, reaching out to her. “You’re alright.” 

“I’m not,” she choked. “I can’t, Rolan. I can’t do this.” 

“You can,” he said firmly. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, “you’re going to sleep this off, and tomorrow you will infuriate me by accomplishing the impossible — as you always do.” 

She was at least calming down, breathing coming easier even if fresh warm tears spilled out of her eyes onto his hands. His thumb gently wiped them away, careful of his nails. 

“You didn’t see what I saw out there in the cursed lands, or even in the tower. You may be an idiot but you’re a capable idiot. If anyone can save the city, it’s you and your freak show of friends.” 

She smiled, a soft laugh nothing more than a breath escaping her lips. Rolan had a sinking feeling he was in over his head, with the way she still looked so lovely to him; face puffy, drunk and still covered in gore he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. His thumb gently rubbed the skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, seeming to have rid herself of all the tears she could and now seeming calmer. 

They sat like that for a while. She breathed and came back to herself, he contemplated how awful he had been to her before. Tav was larger than life, but even she was only flesh and blood. The weight on her shoulders was more than he could even imagine. He’d never been more sure about his decision to offer his help when the time came, anything to lighten her load. 

 For a moment he thought she might have passed out until she spoke. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Rolan felt struck by lightning by the change of subject. “You — do you want me to kiss you?”

Tav opened her eyes, albeit somewhat blearily she smiled mischievously. “Don’t be dumb,” she said, “you know I do.”

“I do not know that,” he said defensively. 

“Well now you do,” she leaned forward, her hands still curled into his robes. Her eyes slid shut again and Rolan tilted his head and leaned in, unable to resist the magnetic force that she seemed to emanate as their lips came closer. 

Her breath smelt so strongly of wine, he suddenly outstretched his arms to keep her at a safe distance. “You’re drunk,” he scolded. Whether it was her or himself he was scolding, was unclear. 

“Yes.” She nodded and then seemed to get dizzy from the motion

“We should get you to bed.” 

“Oh?”

“Stop it,” he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re going to bed to sleep.” 

“That isn’t fun.” 

“I’m not fun,” he reminded her. “I’m a prick with a stick up my arse, as my sister so kindly put it.” 

“Sorry, Rolan,” Tav said seriously, “wasn’t paying attention. Whose prick is going in whose arse? Because m’not equipped — I guess we could buy one but at this hour?“

“Bed!” Rolan said immediately. 

“No,” she whined, “I’m sleeping up here.”

“You are not.”

“I am,” she said, draining the last of her bottle only to have it yanked away from her. “You can’t carry me down the ladder.”

It was said petulantly, with a singsong voice and a cackle of laughter afterwards, but she was right. Rolan grabbed at the pillows and blankets Alfira had snuck up and threw together a makeshift bed. He  shoved at her shoulder until she laid back and she sighed happily, turning onto her side. 

“I like when we get along.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Me too.” 

After a while he laid on the ground. His feet faced her head and there was a safe amount of distance, in case anyone found them. He didn’t need her friends getting the wrong idea if they found them, he was already sure Astarion wanted to kill him. 

He felt something pulling at one of his horns and his eyes slid open. Tav was over him, trying to lift his head. 

“What are you doing?”

“Pillow,” she said plainly. “Head up.” 

He allowed her to place one under his head, and then rested back. When she laid back down, her fingers brushed against him. Barely noticeable, only The back of her knuckles pressed against his. He curled one finger around hers and she did the same. As he looked down, even in the darkness her arms still had marks from whatever had happened when she put on that ring in the tower. 

After a few days with no other side effects, they had all assumed it had been some kind of magic attachment that hadn’t taken full hold. The lines were thin, barely there, but he considered what it could have been. After all the work that had to be done at the shop, it had slipped his mind to research it. At least now he had something to do to keep his mind off of her running to infiltrate the new archduke’s home and murder him. 

“Why didn’t you come?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“What do you mean?”

“Gale wanted to teach you,” she mumbled, “and I… have that bottle for you.” 

Things had happened so fast, getting Cal and Lia settled, being thrust into owning not just a massive home but a very popular magical goods shop had made him forget that night entirely. He had made it all the way to the door of the Elfsong, skin still stinging from Lorroakan’s ‘training’ just the hour before. 

“I got as far as the front door,” he said, “and turned around.” 

“Why?”

“I was… overwhelmed.” 

“Oh.” 

He said nothing in response and after a few moments he heard her start to snore. With a sigh he settled in and closed his eyes. The stone roof was a poor substitute for his new large, exceedingly comfortable bed in the tower. Leaving her side seemed far from worth it to sleep in his own bed, even if she did snore.

Thank you so much for reading!

Next Chapter

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Home

@iamwalkingdead1 @lanafofana @boufsy @aryancunin @lewdisescariot

@orangekittyenergy @netherese0rb @vespaer77 @theletteraesc @sorceresssundries I swear I tried to keep him in line. Oh well... enjoy. Gale x F!Tav, teeny bit of spice.

'So what's the wish he'll make it come true...' - Miracle Aligner, The Last Shadow Puppets

He was pacing, one hand raking through his hair, the other clamped between his teeth as he gnawed at his fingers anxiously. His gaze was fixed on his booted feet, brow furrowed. ‘Gale, things will be fine.’ Tav watched in amusement as he went back and forth until he finally stopped before her and looked up, meeting her gaze. Her stomach swooped just as it had all that time ago when she realised the man she’d rescued was handsome in exactly the way that made her knees go a little wobbly; he removed his hand from his mouth, straightened his spine a little and summoned a twinkle back to his eye. ‘Of course they will,’ he said lowly. ‘You’re only meeting my mother, after all.’ ‘Is she truly that formidable?’ Tav cocked her head, brows drawing together. ‘You act like she’ll eat me alive or something.’ ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘She’ll love you.’ ‘Then why are you so nervous?’ He blinked slowly, a habit he’d picked up from Tara no doubt. ‘Oh, nothing.’ With that, he finally swept up to the front door, rapping his knuckles smartly against it. Turning and grinning at her, he gestured Tav forward and grabbed her hand. Mere moments later, the door swung open of its own accord and Gale pulled them inside, kicking it shut. ‘You better not be abusing that door again, child!’ came a voice from the top of the stairs. ‘Oh of course not mother! Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Gale smirked impishly down at Tav, who felt a little like she oughtn’t be here. ‘Relax,’ he murmured, nudging her with his shoulder. After what felt like an eternity, a woman floated into view. She descended the spiral stairs gracefully, stopped and narrowed her eyes before pulling her son into a crushing hug. Far from flailing like Tav expected him to, he hugged her back just as fiercely and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Hi, Mum.’

‘It’s been too long, son,’ she murmured into his chest.

‘I know,’ he said, his voice catching a little. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘And who’s this?’ she said as they broke apart, eyeing Tav critically.

‘I’m Tav,’ she said quickly, holding out a hand for the older woman to shake. She didn’t know why she did it; nerves or a momentary lapse in social judgement perhaps, but she didn’t expect to be pulled into a hug too. ‘Good to meet you,’ she said shyly when she was let go.

‘Tav, this is my mother, Morena Dekarios. And she-‘

‘He doesn’t shut up about you, you know.’

‘Mother!’ Gale’s ears went pink. ‘That’s-‘

‘And you’ve been chewing your fingers again. I hope this girl has domesticated you somewhat.’ Tav blushed. ‘Come, I imagine you’re both starving. It’s such a long journey from Baldur’s Gate.’ Off she went, drawing them forward in her wake. Now that Tav was feeling a little less nervous, she noted the mosaicked floor in shades of pearl and pale blue with the occasional shock of gold, the fineries of the ebony staircase as it twisted upwards, the cascades of wisteria and devil’s ivy.

‘This place is beautiful,’ she whispered.

‘Hmm.’ Gale squeezed her hand. ‘Gods, I can’t wait to just be alone with you.’ He gave her a sly little smile and went on, the perfect picture of composure. Tav wondered if there was a bat trapped in her throat, fighting to get out.

‘Come in, make yourself at home,’ said Morena, pulling Tav from Gale’s grasp and fussing over her. ‘Good gods, you’re a rake girl. Don’t tell me he hasn’t been cooking for you.’

‘I assure you I have,’ said Gale, a tiny edge in his voice. ‘In fact I volunteered to be camp cook immediately. It’s not my fault she runs headlong into trouble without proper nourishment.’

Tav shot him a venomous look. Oh, I’ll get you back for that, she thought. ‘I had a lot on my mind,’ she said instead. ‘And, well… in it. I admit food was the last thing I was thinking of, I was a little preoccupied with saving the world.’

‘Well, now you can think about food,’ said Morena firmly. ‘I assume you’ll be staying for a while?’

‘Oh, a few weeks at least,’ said Gale breezily. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll take over the cooking, I promise. It’s been such a long time we’ve been without the comforts of home.’ They sat down together, sharing plates of delicious roasted meats and fish, vegetables cooked to perfection, crusty bread and good olive oil.

‘Good,’ said Morena, satisfied. ‘Can’t have you gallivanting off on another adventure so soon leaving me to worry.’ She paused, sucked her bottom lip into her mouth in thought and then said, ‘and that bitch goddess, is she gone?’

Tav burst out laughing as Gale’s mouth fell open. It was a rare treat to see him so wrong-footed. ‘Well… yes, as it happens,’ he said, recovering. ‘I had no idea you thought of her like that.’

‘She took my son from me,’ Morena growled. Tav was suddenly struck by their similarity. ‘I tried, Gale. But she would not hear my prayers, would not take her claws from you. So what did it?’

‘The Crown of Karsus,’ he said, going on to explain everything. ‘And love, I suppose.’ He leaned over to kiss Tav sweetly on the cheek. ‘Tav gave me something to live for.’

Morena’s deep brown eyes flashed with hurt, but she cleared her throat and then it was gone again. ‘Good. Now, my darling boy, I have plenty to be going on with, why don’t you get settled? I have a meeting at the academy in a few, and then down to the Sea Ward to stop by the Temple of Beauty. You behave while I’m gone, you hear?’

‘Of course,’ said Gale lightly, surreptitiously running his knuckles up Tav’s spine. She suppressed a shiver. In moments the two of them were alone as Morena swept from her home, out into the vastness of the City of Splendours.

‘Well, she’s lovely,’ tried Tav. She stood up, gesturing to all the empty plates. ‘You wash I’ll dry?’ She wanted to be helpful, to pleasantly surprise her potential mother-in-law when she returned, but Gale’s smirk was nothing short of devilish as he reached out a hand and caught her by the waist.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, pulling her into his lap and pressing his lips to her neck. ‘Will you not indulge my sweet tooth?’

‘Damn it, Gale-‘

‘Hmm?’  He hummed against her skin, sending delicious shivers through her. ‘Say the word and I’ll let you go. Promise.’

‘She said she hoped I’d domesticated you,’ she admonished. It was only half-hearted. She felt his teeth as he grinned against her skin. ‘Clearly I failed.’

‘You never even tried,’ he shot back, grasping the back of her neck, deft fingers kneading at her tense muscles. His other hand drifted to her hip. ‘Still haven’t heard a ‘no’, love.’

‘I certainly did.’ She pouted, squealing as he drew her lip into his mouth and bit gently. ‘Oi!’

‘Use your words.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ she said. ‘But I’m also getting you back for that comment earlier. What do you mean me going headlong into danger? What about you?’

‘I’ve made no secret of it,’ he said lightly. ‘How thrilling danger can be.’ He dug his fingers into her hip to pull her attention back as she rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said sharply. ‘You can’t pretend to be the goody two shoes, Tav. You’re not so boring as all that, even if you do pretend you’ve never sinned in your life.’

‘I do not,’ she said indignantly, flushing pink. ‘And you’d do well to remember that, Gale Dekarios.’

‘Gods,’ he rasped. ‘Say my name again.’

‘If I do, will you promise to behave? At least help me do the dishes, Gale.’

He shook his head and crushed their lips together. ‘Oh, come on,’ he purred. ‘Live a little. She won’t be back for a few hours yet…’

[grandmother-goblin]

When Soap Isn't Enough

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: No matter how many times Astarion scrubbed himself down, he just couldn't feel clean. So he accepts Cas's offer to help him out.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags: Hair washing, references to past trauma, non-sexual nudity.

Astarion tilted his head back onto the lip of the bathtub and closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the clean water and the soothing aroma of lavender scented bath oil. It was technically his second bath of the evening. The first one had been dedicated to ridding himself of so much filth he was surprised he was allowed through the doors of the Elfsong. The second was just for his own sanity.

As if traversing the sewers beneath Baldur’s Gate wasn’t bad enough, some lunatic had summoned an army of grease mephits and one thing led to another and… well, Gale blew them up. But not before one of them managed to slime Astarion head to toe. Blinded and covered in grease, the little bastard then shoved him into a puddle of sludge. But everyone was so concentrated on surviving the encounter, Astarion did not have time to feel embarrassed about his condition.

The only thing Cas could offer him on the long walk back to the Elfsong was a cloak and a few rags to wipe himself up. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was better than nothing and he appreciated the gesture.

He was also grateful that Cas had gotten them a separate room from the others. It meant that fewer people got to see him in such a state, and he enjoyed the privacy it afforded him and Cas for several reasons.

The space wasn’t very big. Beside the washroom, all their room had was a bed big enough for two and a dresser to keep their belongings. But it was cozy. Rich wood tones and warm lantern light gave the place a very homey feel. He kind of liked it.

Astarion splashed a bit of water on his face. No matter how many times he scrubbed himself down, he still felt the grease. It wasn’t there. He could see it wasn’t there. But, somehow, he still felt like he couldn’t get clean.

“Astarion?” Cas called from the outside the washroom, her voice just loud enough to hear through the thick wooden door. “Do you mind if I pop in for a second? I just want to grab my hairbrush. I promise I won’t look.”

He rolled his eyes. “Darling, you’ve already seen everything,” he said and picked up the bar of soap again. “The door’s unlocked.”

Cas slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. Though he really didn’t mind if she looked, she kept her eyes off of him. Instead, she made a beeline for the vanity and quickly found her hairbrush. “Are you starting to feel better?”

“Mostly,” he said and began to scrub his arm with soap again. “But I still feel like there’s grease everywhere. On my skin, under my fingernails, in my hair. I’m sitting in water and I’m still probably flammable.”

There was a soft snort of laughter. “Want to try washing with some vinegar?”

The suggestion made Astarion’s lip curl with disgust. “I’m trying to smell better, my love, not worse,” he said and started washing his other arm. “Though if you have any more of that lavender scented shampoo, I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Of course,” Cas replied brightly and retrieved the bar of shampoo from her toiletry bag. “Do you have any interest in letting me wash your hair for you?”

Astarion’s brow drew together as his hand paused mid-scrub. “Wash my hair?” he repeated back dumbly. “Why?”

She shrugged. “It feels good and I want to,” she said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “No pressure. Just thought I would put the offer out there.”

“I— Why are you like this?” he asked, making her laugh again. “You know how I feel about you being too nice to me.”

It was a conversation they had countless times in a dozen different ways. The answer was always the same, but he still struggled to wrap his head around it. It was because she cared about him. She cared about him in a way that no one else ever had. With patience and respect, but willing to stand her ground with him when she needed to. Even if she flooded him with sweet gestures, they all came from the heart.

For Cas, one of the main ways she showed affection was through physical touch. Due to his complicated feelings towards sex and other such activities, they decided to have a more caste relationship for a while. Given how frequently they found themselves tangled in blankets during the early stages of their relationship, Astarion thought Cas would have some difficulty with the change.

But she didn’t.

It had been almost a month, and Cas never once tried to pressure him into anything more. Though there were a few instances where their kisses turned a little too heated, she never had a problem with pulling back. Never got upset with him for denying her the physical pleasure she so clearly craved.

Of course, Astarion didn’t hold it against her. She still had certain needs, and he was glad that she didn’t try to deny that for his sake. But he was also glad that she respected his wishes and didn’t try to guilt him over his decision.

Cas held out the bar of shampoo to him and said, “Up to you.”

“Fine,” he replied, sounding about as enthusiastic as a teenager who had been told to wash dishes. “Just try not to get soap in my eyes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to get soap in your eyes,” she said as if he were being completely ridiculous. Then she pulled the stool in front of the vanity over to the tub and took a seat behind him. “Sit forward a bit so I don’t get water outside the tub.”

A little reluctantly, he did as he was told, letting his arm rest atop his bent knees as casually as he could. Yet, despite his outward demeanor, his stomach knotted and his throat tightened. He couldn’t quite place why.

Cas had seen him naked plenty of times between changing his clothes in front of her or when they went to bed together. So it wasn’t his nudity. 

Maybe it was just the position.

Naked, vulnerable, with his back presented to someone seated behind him. His teeth clenched as his fingers dug into his leg, hidden beneath the soapy water. He exhaled, but tried to make the sound seem bored or impatient instead of a calming exercise. It wasn’t Cazador, and there wasn’t a knife. It was Cas, and a fucking bar of soap.

He needed to pull himself together.

“Close your eyes for a second,” Cas said as she dipped a cup into the water.

As soon as he closed his eyes water cascaded over his hair and down his neck. It was warm and soothing. Then she poured another cup of water on him, slowly, until every bit of his hair was dripping wet. 

Ever so carefully, Cas ran her fingers through his hair and pulled it back away from his face. A little smile came to his lips. “How would you feel if I started slicking my hair back?”

“I have no opposition as long as you don’t use so much product that your hair looks crunchy.”

He furrowed his brow. “Crunchy?”

“Like Raphael’s.”

“His hair looks more greasy than anything.”

Cas hummed, sounding skeptical, and lathered up the bar of shampoo. “Take a closer look next time he slithers out of Hell. I bet if you touched it it would sound like a crumpled newspaper.”

“I’m not risking getting grease on myself again to find out what that devil’s hair sounds like,” he said, sounding indignant even as he wanted to smile.

It was funny how that worked. One second he was slipping back into one of his worst memories, and then the next Cas was making him want to laugh. It was so easy. It felt almost natural. That whenever he began to slip into darkness, she was always right there ready to direct him towards the light. Sometimes without trying at all.

Cas tilted his head back gently and began to work her soapy fingers through his hair. She started near his hairline, rubbing her fingertips in tiny circles as she worked her way over his scalp. It felt nice. Really nice.

Soon, Astarion found himself closing his eyes. The smell of lavender, the warm water of the bath, and a soothing massage relaxed the bundle of anxiety in his belly. Most of it, at least. Even though he knew in his heart that Cas wouldn’t take advantage of him, he couldn’t completely suppress that twinge of fear.

Part of him still expected Cas to push him. To trail her fingers down his chest, or to dip her hand beneath the water and tread even lower. Cas had never done something like that, and he didn’t think she ever would, but the worry lingered. That, somehow, this kind and sweet woman he knew was just a facade. That Cas was just like everyone else who wanted him just for his body.

Cas placed her hand just above his brow and said, “Keep your eyes closed.” Shielding his face the best she could, she washed away the shampoo. Between each rinse, she massaged his scalp and combed her fingers delicately through his hair. 

“I think I got all the grease out,” she said and dunked her hands in the water to remove the lingering suds on her skin. “I have a light oil for your hair if you’d like. It smells nice and it’ll make your hair soft and easy to comb.”

It sounded wonderful. Especially the thought of her fingers gliding through his hair again as he melted into her touch. But his stomach knotted, and he shook his head. “I think I’m alright, my love,” he said and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

If Cas was at all disappointed by his refusal, it didn’t show on her face. She just gave his hand a little squeeze. Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his damp forehead and said, “Any time.” 

With that, she dried her hands off on a towel hanging over the edge of the tub and put the stool back under the vanity. Then she picked up her hairbrush and started towards the door. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said and gave him a smile before she left the room.

Astarion sighed once he heard the door click shut behind her. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he already regretted turning down her offer. If her shampooing his hair was anything to judge by, it would have been just as nice and relaxing. Maybe they could even talk about something else as ridiculous as what sound Raphael’s hair would make. Who knew? He certainly didn’t because he had let his fear get the better of him.

Yet Cas was patient and she didn’t seem to take it personally. There was just only so much touching he could handle before his train of thought ventured down a dark path. No matter how he tried to redirect it towards the light, he wasn’t always in control, and his mind went there anyway. As frustrating as it was, and though he knew he was safe (or as safe as he could be) with Cas, two centuries of conditioning didn’t go away overnight.

Still, he was getting better. Little by little. And Cas was there with him for every step of the way.

After he scrubbed his body down with soap one more time, he drained the tub and toweled off, finally feeling like all the grease was gone. His hair especially felt good. His hair was still a little damp when he changed into his pajamas. 

Cas had gotten the pajamas for him as a gift, and thought neither of them slept, they were soft and nice to lounge in while he did his trance. Just simple, loose, burgundy pants and a stretchy, long-sleeved, gray shirt. Nothing fancy, but he didn’t really need fancy so long as he was comfortable. 

When he exited the washroom, he found Cas lounging on the bed clad in her own pajamas, a pencil in hand as she jotted down something in her journal. She glanced up at him and gave him a soft smile. Like she was simply happy to see him. It still felt so strange, no matter how many times she gave him that look. “Feeling better?” she asked, closing her journal to give him her full attention.

The mattress dipped as Astarion sat beside her. He used the movement to tuck her against his side, his arm wrapped around her lithe frame and her head tucked under his chin. “Much better, darling,” he said and rolled onto his back and pulled her fully on top of him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone wash my hair like that before”

She pushed up with her hands on either side of his head, relieving him of some of her weight. “How did you feel about it?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again,” he said as he let his hands wander from her ribcage, to her hips, down to lightly grip her upper thighs. “Perhaps, next time, you might join me in the tub.”

Cas smiled at him. “I don’t think we’d both fit.”

“Not with that attitude,” he said, earning himself a laugh because she was right. Even if the idea sounded nice, there was no way they could both fit comfortably. “I bet this place has a room with a bigger tub. They have to, right? For half-orcs or goliaths or other massive folk. Those would surely fit two little elves.”

She hummed. “If you want to ask the owner to switch rooms, be my guest,” she said, effectively putting the ball in his court. Leaving the decision up to him, with no real pressure one way or another. 

“I bet they’d have bigger beds too.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled her down for a kiss. Something chaste and sweet, and he could feel her smiling into it.

Gods. He might very well be in love with her.

“I’ll ask about it tomorrow,” he said. Despite his earlier nerves, it was something he still wanted to do. Especially with Cas. It might be good for him, he thought. Just a small way to be intimate with her that didn’t involve sex.

It would take more than just soap to wash away all of his complicated feelings towards intimacy. Perhaps, he would never be rid of it entirely. But it was a start.

That was something.

[sapphic-woes]

Can't help but think about a Vampire!Tav x Karlach... so part 1 of this idea :) pardon the lack of quality haven't done this for a while.

Vampire!Tav x Karlach:

You're one of Astarion's siblings, and let's say here that the rite simply Does Not Exist and we just gotta kill Cazador cuz he's already bad enough as is. The scars are indeed a shitty, Raphael style poem.

You and Astarion are basically double trouble, absolute menaces, downright diabolical together...but then Halsin comes along and ruins everything.

Astarion is...good? Suddenly? Or at least, he tries to be. Because Halsin is as good as people get, and for once...it's actually affecting Astarion.

And ugh. You hate it.

He's all smiles and rainbows now. Giggling like a lovesick idiot. You pity him for looking like such a fool. Doesn't he know how easy it is to string someone along? How easy it was to hand them over to Cazador and then just...forget them? How little love actually meant?

At least, that's what you tell yourself when you watch them being together. In reality, you're jealous of Astarion as much as you are a teeny tiny bit happy.

What could it be like? Loving someone just...because? To finally feel safe around another person? Protected? Cared for?

Astarion doesn't look afraid anymore, whereas you can't go a day without hearing Cazador's voice ordering you around. To sit up straight, to know your place, to never dare to drink the blood of a another–

"Soldier? Mm it's not even morning yet... Huh? Hey, easy-shit–easy there soldier! If you need to, uh, eat? Wait hang on, it's more like drinking isn't it? Well, you know what I mean! What I'm trying to say is, if you need blood..."

Your band of misfits had been hurrying to Baldurs Gate like maniacs, leaving you little time to feed. Sure, you caught your occasional animal, but unlike Astarion, you didn't have a humanoid blood bank willing to be your donor. You'd been hungry for days, however, you still thought you had everything control.

"...could ya ask before you try to take a bite outta my neck?"

Coming out of your hunger induced daze to find a surprised Karlach underneath you was...alarming, to say the least.

Not because of the position–she was warm and so fucking firm underneath your skin, sharply contrasting your cold, undead body. You nearly wanted to melt into her arms.

When was the last time you'd experienced warmth apart from blood and tears? Let alone the warmth of another person?

But this wasn't a time to loose focus. Karlach has already warned Astarion when your secret identities had been revealed. She'd wring your neck for actually trying to bite her now. Sure, you were strong–buy you'd be a fool to think you had a chance against the tiefling.

You're frozen in panic so long that Karlach begins to move, slowly trying to prop herself up with her elbows. She's trying to make sure you don't fall off her...

Though at the realization, her efforts are in vain as you lurch yourself away in horror.

Shit, shit, shit–

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I wasn't in my right mind. I swear I would never... I-I know you said to keep our teeth to o-ourselves..."

Your dead heart pounds, and you're certain she'll snap you in two after this. Why couldn't it have been Gale? Or even Wyll? At least with them you had the chance of survival. With a barbarian like Karlach?

This time, you really were going to die.

You squeeze your eyes shut when she finally rises from her bed and stalks toward you. Slow, purposeful steps. Her eyes are troubled, and you can't fathom why.

That is until she stops you and softly speaks.

"I thought you'd been looking a little tired these days. I shoulda brought it up early, but I know you like your privacy. Y/N..."

There's a beat of silence, and then everything is sweet. Mouthwatering. The scent of blood invades your senses. It's good. So good.

Your head snaps up, and Karlach has her knees bent, thumb out like she's telling you 'good job!' However, what catches your eyes is the cut on it–dripping blood onto the dirt between you two.

"I don't mind sharing...if you don't mind the heat."

It's an amusing sight for Karlach, you're sure, but you'd abandoned your pride long ago.

Well, more like 5 minutes ago–but can you blame a girl when she's starving?

You suck on her thumb like her blood is holy, eager to satiate your hunger. Karlach shivers, and you swear she grits her teeth, but you can't stop.

Her blood is intense, like chugging molten lava straight down your throat. Yet it doesn't actually burn. It tingles, it warms, it... rejuvenates you. Was this what it meant to drink from a thinking creature? Or was Karlach simply the best meal you'd ever had...?

[smt4flynn]

"i love you" but you scream, and no one hears

Warning: NONCON/DUBCON, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, GASLIGHTING, R18/Explicit. MINORS DNI. Ascended Astarion is the focus of the target here! DEAD DOVE, DON'T EAT.

Note: If you find the above topics uncomfortable, please consider turning away from this ('-')b This was a request! If you ever wanna request me, you can send me an ask on tumblr or just @ me on twitter. It may take me years to do it though!

--------------------------------------

It takes you a painfully long time to wake up. The world around you is dark and hazy, worsened when you realise your arms are stuck for some strange reason. You can’t really move them, your body shifting about and realising your legs seem to be stuck too. Everything around you is heady, too much, your tongue like iron in your mouth and you have to focus particularly on it to keep it from rolling out and drooling all over. Your mind is racing everywhere yet your thoughts are sluggish and painstakingly slow.

What is the last thing you remember...?

You remember defeating the Nether Brain, before your feet come to a stark realisation that the floor is tipping sideways and you are plummeting fast. Gale panic screams out a feather fall to keep the crash into the water from murdering your lot, and then you are all violently flailing to the shore. You aren’t a great swimmer and neither is Shadowheart, given her deathly fear of the water, but the onslaught of potentially dying gets the two of you to flail to safety.

Karlach’s scream pierces through your memory – and you recall, well, how Wyll convinces her to escape into Avernus with him, and the two of them are just gone, leaving your life as quickly as they joined it. Astarion stands aside you, staring up at the sky, and for a moment your heart clenches. You look over to Shadowheart and see her being guided along by an equally soaked and greatly amused Jaheira, while Minsc screams something incomprehensible behind her.

Baldur’s Gate is ruined. But still it stands. Even though Wyll and Karlach are gone, having to leave in a sudden emergency, with Lae’zel oscillating between righteous anger at Orpheus having to sacrifice himself or leading the charge against Vlaakith herself, it is Gale who suggests you celebrate. Elfsong still stands, he notes, something tired curling at the corner of his eyes, and Astarion surprisingly agrees.

Perhaps you should have been more scared. He let go of you so quickly.

A door in the distance opens. It creaks slowly, causing your heavy, cotton-filled head to slowly lift to where you think the noise is coming from. It shuts almost inaudibly, though the gentle taps of shoes do not escape your ears. The bed dips slightly from the added weight and a hand cups your cheek so gently it sends knots curling in your stomach and spiders digging into your meat. You can’t even move away, not fast enough, as another hand grabs your wrist and squeezes it hard.

Your arms are stuck. Your arms are stuck together. He tugs you and you feel it scrape against the roughness of rope; sturdy and thick, painfully tight when you move too much, and a familiar little giggle hits your pointed ears.

“To think,” says the devil, tongue curled around the apex of his finely-carved fangs, “to think you would just... expect me to let you go.” his words hover near you, away from you. You are floating somewhere you know nothing about. You can’t move your legs, stuck apart – your mouth moves and all you do is dribble spit and gurgle. Your throat feels so tight and clogged. He hushes you, the little monster who watches you, who watches you reject Bhaal with distant eyes which grow sharp when you deny him.

The hand on your face is still so gentle. It retreats only to bring a handkerchief to wipe your spittle away. Your body is so utterly heavy and your throat is only slowly, slowly, getting everything together. The bed evens out only for it to dip again, even further, when golden-embroidered vampire wraps something around you, forcing it open and yet keeping you mute. Your body is completely at his mercy; his hands cup your cheeks again and he presses his plush, gentle lips to the corner of yours. His fangs scrape against you, almost playful. You can’t even try to shake him off.

“It hurt me.” he says lowly. “To think you only helped me because your little urges took over – but you were still in there, deep down, weren’t you?” he runs his fingers through your hair; you remember he tells you how much he loves it, feeling the strands, twirling them around his index. Pressing kisses to a lock of hair he holds before kissing you. “I never judged you, dearest,” and you know he is right. Even at your worst, he loved you. He takes your hands in his, kisses your fingers, “then you left me behind. Oh, did the rejection of Bhaal embolden you so? I saw in your eyes how much it hurt you to leave me behind, so why don’t I fix your little blunder?”

You try to thrash. The ropes are too well-done; he must have learned, intimately, from when he has to tie you up in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Even if they aren’t, even if they are sloppy, whatever he slips you has you as heavy as lead. You wish you can see him, you are glad you can’t. His hands finally move away from your face to instead trace down your sides – to feel your curves, the way your muscles tense as you try, even a little, to writhe away. Lips press against your neck – to the scarred bites, standing stark and pretty against all your other torture reminders (and the two of you bonded over it, over your tortures, over your hurts), and his teeth tease the healed wound. He can just as easily open those holes up again and drink you up.

This time, you know, if he drains you, that it will not be a revivify scroll that he uses to bring you back to him.

A kiss presses against it – chaste, like it is a treasure to be savoured. You want to scream. Your tongue presses against the fabric he uses to quiet you and you gag. Astarion hushes you. His lips against your skin is so soft, as soft as you remember it to be. His nails are claws as long as a tiefling’s, a byproduct of his ascension. You wear easy-fabric; a dress with no sleeves that makes it to your knees, with a skirt that flares out and makes you feel so pretty.

Now, as he peels the dress up to have access to your legs, to squeeze at your thighs and coo over the cute panties you wore today, you wish you decided against celebrations. “This would have been easier if you didn’t guilt yourself over what you can’t change.” Astarion says, his voice almost... pitying. “You know I love you, so, so terribly, that I would have loved you, adored you; you gave me a gift. I wish I could make you see that.”

You wish you can respond.

“These tadpoles being gone are such a nuisance, I almost miss the little bugger.” his voice is so soft. You don’t know who he is. “I would have flooded you with the sincerity of my love, but even when it was in your head, you rejected all of us when you learned how to control it. How could I make you understand that I love you?” his fingers are on your inner thighs, so close to your crotch.

An index slips between your clothed vulva and he lets out a disappointed sigh at the dryness he feels. “But you were so desperate to try to distance yourself from your Bhaal-influenced decisions, that you didn’t realise you were running away from us.” and even if you want to scream at him, shame does sting you.

You did reject him. But you don’t think it calls for him drugging you for doing something like that. His thumb presses against where your clit is hidden away, rubbing slow circles around it like he used to whenever he initiated touch; he loves, loved, worshipping you, feeling you lose yourself beneath him. Touching him isn’t something he normally wants, but you? Touching you? Feeling you? He loves it. Your body remembers it so well – he loves teasing you, making you lose yourself. For all of your experience in violence, and pain, and agony, and hurt, and hurt, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, not derived from severe instilled sadism, is still so new to you.

A muffled whimper slips from you, eyes wide behind the blindfold, and Astarion coos encouragingly at you. His thumb rubs against your clit, pressing down on it, and you shudder then try to jolt your hips away. You are so groggy – he slips down even further, hand moving aside to try and give his head better space when he presses his mouth against your vaginal lips. He wets the fabric of your panties when he begins dragging his tongue in, pressing in, before his mouth moves up to where your clit – swollen and hard – presses against your wet panties.

You writhe, try to kick your bound legs, your arms tugging painfully against your ropes. You wish – you wish, you wish almost deliriously you just killed Isobel that day, just so that Astarion doesn’t know how to tie you up so well, to keep you pinned down. Let me know when you need to be tied up again, he says lowly, fear hidden behind practised seduction. His fingers hook into the band of your panties, dragging them slowly down to expose your wet vulva – swollen and engorged with arousal, dripping pre all over, and you thrash about as much as you can.

A hand wraps around your throat – it moves too fast for you to even realise it. His fingers barely have to apply pressure before you feel like your neck is about to cave in. His nails scrape against you, scratching against the vampire bites, lining up with where your veins are, thumb stroking across your hidden artery. His grip tightens, only a little, and it feels like your muscle are about to give away, like he is about to crush your throat like a shot glass.

“I’ve been very patient with you, darling,” and still his voice is so deceptively sweet, when did he learn to speak like this? You remember him, Astarion, so nervous still, unable to hide his spite, his bitterness, beneath all of his practised flattery. The intense mockery, the humming promise of violence. This Astarion, who has your life in his deceptively gentle grip, speaks to you with the fluttering sweetness of a lover returned, “but I will not tolerate anymore impertinence from you. I was not going to turn you tonight, but if you do not calm down, I may have to consider it just to get you to stop.”

He squeezes harder and you gurgle behind the gag. Your body trembles as you force yourself to not struggle. He kisses the corner of your lips, as gentle as the first time, pressing another to your chin, and as his fingers peel slowly from your throat you almost sob from relief. He lets you sink into the bed, the bed that you do not realise how plush and comfortable it is, as if trying to drag you in. Comforts surround you, his kisses on you so chaste and loving, even as his claws scrape against your hips, dragging thin lines down your thighs.

Whip marks cover you, faded reminders from your Bhaalist past. You are not what made you. Astarion is what you made him.

“Good little Bhaal-babe,” he coos out at you. You try not to flinch away at his words. Shuffling fabrics greet your ears, before hands grab at your legs to spread them open. You feel so bared open beneath him, your folds still engorged, taken up by the little seductive timbre of his voice; even the display of his power has your body almost instinctively reacting with heat. You’ve been trained for too long to just forget – Astarion loved it. He loved that pain and pleasure are one and the same for you, that you are so desperate to submit to something greater than yourself, that you let him do whatever he wants to you.

Now, you regret having him train you. You love him. You loved him. You love and loved him and will love him for as long as you are alive.

“Oh, your cunt’s so wet,” he coos, and he spreads your folds open for him to show off your desperately wet hole, your body still responding to him, reacting so viscerally, even when tears are pricking behind your blindfold and wetting the fabric, “I know you still wanted me, I don’t even know why I doubted it.” and you aren’t allowed to even parse that statement before you hear him spit on your vulva, his saliva dragging down your hole in a pointed mark of humiliation, and you shake with the indignation of it all.

His thumb presses against your hole, slipping his saliva inside of you, and you hate how your hips jump toward him, how you drip even more openly for him. “So cute.” he hisses through his teeth. He holds you open after, just to watch your hole flutter. This is not the man who loved you. He drags you closer to him, cock head pressing against your unprepared hole, and your muscles grow extremely tense to not thrash away -

Even when the two of you bed regularly, he needs to stretch you open, spending an almost embarrassing amount of time trying to ready him up for you. Here, however, he simply presses against you, laughs at whatever expression you seem to make, and then slams into you without much preamble. You scream, or try to – your voice sounds distant, foreign, even to you, muffled and pathetic. He stretches you wide open, did something inside of you tear? No – no, you are too used to him, even if it hurts that he just slams inside of you.

“Remember this.” he hisses out. “Remember how this feels, remember how I feel!” his grip on you is unrelenting, slamming into you, forcing your tired body to accept him. Your hole stretches, your body wildly writhing, but he doesn’t punish you for trying so desperately to kick him away. He seems to relish in it, given the way he moans from your panic, from your writhing. One hand grabs your thigh harshly, fingers pressing down hard enough to form bruises, and the other -

His thumb rubs circles around your clit – tears sting the corner of your eyes. Your hole flutters, tightening up, and to your horror you’re actually getting close; and it is when he finally unties the gag, briefly stopping his touch on your clit, to give you an actual kiss, full of love and sweetness, that you cum around him. You moan pathetically, mouth feeling painfully dry, and still Astarion keeps his kiss with you.

You don’t even realise when he finally groans and fills you up. Shame and horror have finally made themselves at home in your head.

“I love you.” he whispers. You scream, but nothing really comes out – your throat is dry, clinging to itself like sandpaper. He hushes you, once more. “I love you.” he says. “I love you, dearest, and even if you don’t love me – I’ll make you remember how it felt.”

And you scream again.

But nothing comes out.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt8

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Finished writing this at midnight. I am so sleepy, which definitely influenced this chapter. Not proofread. We love trying to develop a "slow burn" relationship as an aro ace individual ✌️

Warnings: paranoia, predator-prey/hunting mention

Word Count: 1,373

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The Underdark had everybody on edge, but none so much as you and Astarion. You were restless. The darkness consumed you, pressing in on you until it devoured your thoughts, heightening your fears. Shadows out of the corners of your eyes made you jump. Your heart wouldn’t settle at all. When you’d choose to set up camp and sleep for the night (though it was impossible to know when day had actually passed), Astarion could hear your heart racing at every little thing. Even the bioluminescence of the place didn’t help; there was never enough light to feel safe.

The lack of food for Astarion down here also had not escaped your notice. While Gale could scrounge up enough food from the supplies you’d brought along, there was nary a morsel for the spawn. So, you’d very quickly come to an agreement.

You’d set up your bedroll in his tent, close to his, though with perhaps a foot between. He’d light one of the candles and you’d talk quietly within the warm glow, until he could hear your heart slow to a reasonable pace. Once the first signs of exhaustion began to creep in, you offered him your wrist. He never drank as much as the first time, and your heart didn’t leap into your throat when he’d bite down. He was almost grateful you were becoming comfortable with it; he’d hate to act as a constant reminder of your master - more than he already was. You’d fall into a somewhat restful sleep, and Astarion would take watch for half the night or read, before meditating.

It was comfortable. A system that greatly benefitted both of you. Each night you’d talk about the day’s events or about fragments of your old lives. You always tried to avoid talking of your servitude, but Astarion began opening up more about his. With each new tidbit of information, the more determined you became to kill Cazador. It was endearing. You feared your own master so much, but you swore to the ends of the earth you would bring his down, without an ounce of hesitation. He wished you’d understand he felt the same way about Kir Parthene.

Tonight, however, you couldn’t get comfortable. You felt unsafe no matter how long you stared into the flickering candlelight. Days of darkness were beginning to get to you. You imagined shapes in the shadows that disappeared when you blinked. You kept getting turned around and disoriented, retreating into your head so often you’d forget where you were entirely. It got so bad that someone else had to step up and lead the way while you walked in the middle of the group, surrounded by everyone else so you didn’t think someone would attack you from behind. Even then, you kept glancing over your shoulder.

Astarion had already eaten. Your wrist was safely bandaged, and your head lingered on the edge of hazy. You were already laying down, blankets tucked snugly around your neck, and yet all you could do was watch the wax slowly melt. Even closing your eyes scared you too much.

Astarion sighed when he looked up from his book an hour later and you still had not fallen asleep. “Darling, you’re safe here. You need to sleep.”

Your eyes dragged from the wick to his face. He could tell you were exhausted. Your body fought to give in; your eyes looked seconds away from shutting for good, but you forced them to stay open. You were actively sabotaging yourself, and you couldn’t stop it. “I can’t,” you croaked.

“What are you scared of?”

A distant look takes over, dulling the shine in your eyes. You frown at the canvas of the tent over his shoulder. “She would,” you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep talking, “hunt me down, in the dark. Have the servants blow out every candle until it was pitch black. She’d tell me to run. I-I couldn’t see anything, I just had to remember where everything was. I’d run into walls and- and she’d count down and start chasing me. I couldn’t see her. All I’d hear is her footsteps, or her laugh.” You shuddered and curled further into yourself, pulling the blanket even tighter around your neck. “Being down here, all I can think of is that place. I don’t even think - I’m just following the layout of the rooms in my head. And I just think she’s there, waiting for me to be caught off guard so she can win her little game.”

He slips a scrap of silk between the pages of his book and sets it aside. “You’re safe,” he reassures you, carefully reaching out to touch your shoulder. You relax slightly at the contact. “We’ll protect you. I’ll protect you. She’ll never lay another finger on you again.”

You finally meet his eyes again. He can see the telltale sign of tears building in the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back. “Thank you,” you hoarsely whisper.

“Now sleep, love. You can’t keep stumbling around the dark in this state.”

He pulls his hand away, but your hand shoots out from your blanket to grab it. It’s not a tight hold, just enough to keep him in place, if the suddenness didn’t already keep him there. “Don’t…” You fight to find the words you want. Spots form at the edge of your vision, your mind mere moments away from collapsing under the mental stress, no longer overthinking about what lingers in the dark. “Don’t stop, please.”

He frowns, turning his hand over in your loose grip to hold your hand. “Don’t stop what?”

“Touching me.” Your eyes watch as your fingers curl loosely back around his own. All the while, your eyelids struggle to stay open. They flutter, until they finally shut.

Your fingers begin slipping through it, but he holds on a bit tighter to stop them. He’d held your hand before, when he drank too much from your wrist that your fingers became cold, even if it did nothing to warm them back up. But this felt different. Whereas before it felt like a simple courtesy, not expected but done anyway, this was a request.

He sighed softly as he studied your sleeping form. He could hear your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, your breaths evening out; see the way your body completely relaxed, your hold on the blanket loosening until it slid from your neck down to your shoulder.

He fought with his thoughts for a minute. It wouldn’t be too difficult to go back to reading, he’d read with one hand before. But the story no longer seemed interesting. He no longer had the desire to know what happened next. Anything else he could think of doing - embroidery, sharpening his daggers, repairing any tears in his clothes - all required two hands. A stab of emotion shot through his chest at the thought of letting go.

Another minute later, and he resigned himself to his fate. He scooted closer and lid down, until you were face to face. Slowly, as to not disturb you, he let go of your hand, gently tucking yours back under the blanket by your chest. A slight crease formed in your brow that only eased when he draped his arm over your waist. You let out a long, slow breath, leaning forward to chase after his comfort. He indulged you, pushing himself even further into your space, until your forehead rested against his shoulder.

It was awkward, of course. He had no idea what he was doing, but you seemed to enjoy it, even in your sleep. Soon enough his arm wrapped more purposefully around your waist. His other cushioned his head like a pillow. At some point in the night, you’d reached out of the safety of your blanket and grabbed onto the loose fabric of his shirt. He’d carefully tucked the blanket back around your neck, hiding the scar there. He’d lingered for a few moments, studying it with a frown, but you’d pull him out of his disdain with a quiet, tired sound, and he’d finish covering it up and hold you close again.

Very quickly, this, too, was added to your nightly routine.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueen_cosplay @yarn_yogi @tototini @teardropcup @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash

[alpydk]

How would Gale react to Tav revealing that her native language is not common?

What a Røv

I'm sorry this has taken me so long to answer. I initially had a whole smut idea with this and then it went sort of angst homesickness idea, and now it's just ended up as a comfort/fluff thing. Either way, I wrote a little fic for it - Overall though, Gale wouldn't mind, he'd find it endearing.

Word Count - 1635 - Fluff - CW - shameless use of Danish (Shut up I'm allowed.)

Gale had heard the utterances only once or twice before, a grumbled obscenity as a toe was stubbed on a bookshelf, a quiet obscure whisper between clenched teeth during the throes of passion. He knew his partner Tav was a half-drow, but their accent was entirely from Baldur’s Gate, the lilt of certain words always putting a smile on his face with how pitch perfect they were. He’d asked her about her heritage, a curiosity he could not help but indulge in, and she’d claimed there wasn’t much behind it all; her mother was a Drow, her father a human, and she’d grown up with neither in the city.

The story had been good enough for him until he’d caught her perusing through his library, peering into tomes not written in the common they’d spoken between themselves so often. His first instinct had been that she possibly spoke a form of Undercommon, or more likely Deep Drow; her wanting to hide it a shame of some sort, but the tomes found didn’t match up with what he’d heard. There seemed to be a mixture she had glanced through, some books written in the Elven Espruar, others closer to the Thorass alphabet they used each day, but no one specific tongue. It was as if she was searching for something amongst the pages that had not been there. Gale had questioned her about it just to be met with the answer that she was as curious about literature as he was. “Who needs to understand the words to see the beauty in poetry?” and with this he had continued to just observe, to listen for those obscenities and whispers and make a mental note of them for when he could check their meaning.

---

“Sollys, skin på ham. Beskyt ham mod mørket. Skygger, skjul mig af syne. Beskyt mig mod lyset.”

It was a small prayer, but one that had Tav whispered most days as the sun rose over Waterdeep. Gale had heard snippets of it often as he’d rushed to change into his robes for a day at the academy or been trying to tame his unruly hair after a night of excitement. Now he lay in bed, the words drifting into his subconsciousness as he lay sleeping, his mind questioning the meaning behind the dream of a language he did not understand. His eyes flickered open, keen to find the source and catch her red-handed.

“Tav?”

She turned to him from the foot of the bed, her hazy blue skin lightening under the rising sun that drifted lazily in through the parted curtains. She wore the black lace nightgown he’d bought for her, the one that contrasted so well with her salt white hair. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she whispered.

He groggily wiped the sleep from his eyes, a disappointment that he’d not been quick enough to understand what she’d been saying before he woke fully, but a smile at the sight of her as welcome as ever. His hair lay messily tufted around his face and ears, a reminder that he needed to tidy it up with some scissors even if she protested to it. “Did I hear you speaking before?”

Tav quietly moved up next to him, stroking a lock of hair from his face. She looked down at him lovingly, her violet eyes a pleasant reminder of the tattered robes she’d once passionately removed him from. “Only in your dreams, I’m sure.”

His hand reached over to her, his fingers rubbing along the arm of her nightgown, an invitation for her to join him before either of them got distracted by the world’s need for their attention.

She leant in and kissed his forehead, a teasing warmth lingering from her lips upon his brow. “As much as I’d love to, I’m needed in the library this morning.”

Gale longed for time to stop, for the curtains to stop the impatient daylight from entering any more than it already had, for her lips to find his own, and for her body to have as little control as his did in that moment. He unwillingly withdrew his hand, knowing he would see her again later amongst the dusty books and candle lit corners they’d both frequented so often. “You are but a cruel harpy.”

“My waterlogged wizard doth complain too much.”

---

Gale watched her for some time after she had finished her shift, their game of cat and mouse a regular occurrence at this point of the day. Tav would end work on schedule but would then spend time amongst the well-organised shelves, looking either for poetry or something she could bring home for his amusement. He would eventually find her amongst the tomes and would whisk her to a dark corner where they’d indulge in the art of self control and silence. Her delicate fingers traced along the spines of the books as she walked down the aisle, her eyes gazing across the titles until something caught her attention. Seeing the gentle sway of her ponytail as she took each step forward, he kept his own pace matching hers, knowing it was only a matter of time before she glanced up and saw his deep eyes spying on her.

Her words were quiet, another whisper amongst the library’s inhabitants. “Der er få der prøver at forstå Vævet - det er synd, da kun de der er fuldt på bølgelængde med Vævet kan kalde dem selv for ægte magikere.”

He listened with curiosity to her mutterings, some words like that of Common, others a reminder of a distant language he had researched long ago. But this was proof that not all was what it seemed, that there was a secret she kept from him, a mystery to be solved. What she spoke naturally was not a simple speech of Baldur’s Gate, but something else, no Drow nor Elvish, nor something that matched his tomes. He thought possibly it could be a form of Jotun, but why would a Half Drow ever speak such a tongue? It was as her fingers continued to grace the titles of the books between them he realised it was that of Illuskan, a language rarely spoken outside of northwest Færun. Gale smiled, a plan being conjured up to have her reveal all. One that he knew would have her spilling all secrets.

---

“Y – eh – g” He spoke deliberately, a hard pressure put on each sound as Tav walked through the door, knowing she would hear him.

 “Yegg? Working on a new spell?” she asked innocently as she placed her bag down near his desk, her eyes glancing over the papers that lay scattered in front of him.

Gale looked up at her, seeing the way she recognised the texts in front of him, a momentary smirk at the realisation of what it was he had been trying to pronounce so poorly. “Just some new linguistics materials that I found tempting to dive into.”

“Hm... I’ll leave you to that, then.”

For the next hour Tav sat in a nearby chair, her finger tapping irritably at every mispronounced syllable, at the purposeful bastardisation of her native language. He held back a laugh as he attempted to read through a basic cooking recipe; the word fløde, causing her to close her book sharply and grit her teeth. He didn’t want to torture her, but their relationship was one of games and puzzles. Now, however, this attempt to have her reveal her secret had turned into one of simple teasing.

“Yegg har fang-et een store row...”

The cackle was unmistakable from her lips as he spoke the last word, the combination of letters a confusion to utter out loud even though he knew the phonetic for each now. He twisted on his chair, her laughter becoming a snigger in between breathed out words.

“A røv?” Tav laughed further, her own correction making it all the funnier in her mind. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Or is it-” She exhaled, trying to regain her composure. “Ræv?”

Gale heard little difference between the two words, but it mattered little as he caught her in his web. “An expert on Illuskan, my love?”

“I consider myself more the expert on røve...” She gave him a playful smirk.

“On foxes?”

She chuckled again at his misunderstanding; the laughter causing her cheeks to flush, and she rose to her feet to come closer, placing herself in his lap. “On arses, you fool.”

He lifted his hand, pushing aside a stray strand of hair from her face. “You were letting me make an idiot out of myself, weren’t you?”

“I wanted to see how far you’d take it to draw it out of me. Though I’ll be honest, I was expecting something a little sexier, and less... painful.”

“Painful?” Gale said with a mock exaggeration. “Remind me next time to add it to my repertoire, should we find ourselves upon another adventure.” He stroked her face, her skin as soft as silk, the scent of the library held in her robes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tav leant into his touch, a gentle smile curling the corners of her lips. “You like puzzles, to solve things and learn. What fun would there be without a little mystery?”

“Are there any other mysteries I should be aware of?”

“Only time will tell.”

Placing a longing kiss upon her lips, he felt the warmth of her breath mingle with his. “Jeg elsker dig.” He whispered, his pronunciation of the simple phrase of love clear and understandable.

She looked into his eyes, a surprised but proud look in her gaze. “So, you’re not a complete røv with the language.”

“Only those few words at this time, but I’d learn it for you. I’d do anything for you.”

---------------------------------------------

The Illuski language group is based on real-life Nordic languages such as Old Norse, Danish, and Norwegian

----

“Sollys, skin på ham. Beskyt ham mod mørket. Skygger, skjul mig af syne. Beskyt mig mod lyset.”

“Sunlight, shine on him. Protect him against the darkness. Shadows, hide me from sight. Protect me against the light.

“Der er få der prøver at forstå Vævet - det er synd, da kun de der er fuldt på bølgelængde med Vævet kan kalde dem selv for ægte magikere.”

“Few try to understand the Weave - a true pity, for only they who are truly attuned to the Weave can rightly call themselves spellcasters.”

[avelera]

On the Study of Miracles

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character: Gale, gender-neutral Tav, pre-Gale/Tav

Word count: 1,635

Author Note: Just a little something that's been plaguing my brain since my first play-through. Somewhat envisioned as part of a series from each Companion's POV, we'll see how far it goes. Posting the rough here until I decide what to do with it.

Summary: The day before the Nautiloid abducted him was the worst day of Gale's life. Not the day of. The day before. How does one even explain that to any sane person?

--

Yesterday was the worst day of Gale’s life. 

Not the bit with the tadpoles and the sudden abduction-by-teleportation, no. Not the part where he woke up in a claustrophobic pod and pressed his hands to the glass, looking about wildly as his all-too educated brain already knew what his stomach did not yet want to admit: that he was on a mindflayer ship and his gruesome end, from that point, was all but a certainty.

No. 

All of that happened after midnight, in Waterdhavian time. So he still considered that today. It’s important to be precise about such things. 

No, the worst day of his life was yesterday, sitting alone in his tower in Waterdeep, with Tara out fetching him another magical item to consume in the hopeless hope of staving off the inevitable just a little longer. Just until a cure could be found. Just until a miracle occurred. He’d loved a goddess, once, and a part of him deep down would never cease to. It’s just the sort of person he was. More importantly, she’d loved him, as much as any god can love what is mortal. Perhaps that was more or perhaps less than how much mortals could love other mortals.

Anyway. The point was, he’d been waiting for a miracle, and as the painfully-former lover of a goddess, he knew what a miracle looked like. He’d had one once, held her in his arms. And he grimly suspected that, like her, he would never know another miracle. It wasn’t for mortals to get more than one. 

He’d known that with a certainty he viewed at once with grim disillusionment and self-deceptive avoidance. So long as he didn’t think about it too much, he could pretend that there were still years before him rather than months. Weeks. Maybe even days, if Tara came up empty-handed, or empty-pawed, as it were.

He avoided the thought of hi approaching end with all the intellectual power he’d once poured into his studies at Blackstaff, under the fawning tutelage of his instructors, back when he was still a wise and precocious child, a “joy to have in class”, rather than a self-assured and (he could admit it) likely unbearable teenager, or worse, a young man. The lover of a goddess, just for his skill in magic alone. Gods he must have been a nightmare to deal with. Perhaps all of this was deserved, on some level.

Right. But back to yesterday. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a singular worst day of his life. But they’d all blurred together by then, starting from the moment his new reality had truly sunk in, alone in his tower, when the frenzy of pain and soul-scorching hunger had receded enough for him to look around, sweat-soaked, sickened, and dazed, at his home in Waterdeep all but stripped of the magical artifacts that had glowed and chimed and made beautiful the rooms of his tower. 

His tower that swiftly became his prison. 

Part of the dreadful isolation that followed was his fault. Well, most of it. Turned out, he didn’t really have friends so much as he had colleagues. Colleagues who came ‘round once or twice when he first went missing, but upon being refused, made no further effort to contact Gale, and he could hardly blame them.

Technically there was nothing stopping him from making short social calls, even spending a night out, once he got the hang of how long he could last after each magical item consumed. Technically he didn’t need to be a shut-in with only his tressym for company, once the first firestorm of anguish and grief washed over him and settled into the doldrums of blank horror at how far he’d fallen. 

But that was wicked thing about hope. He had hope that any day, some miracle would descend from on high, Mystra with her forgiveness granted as magically as was her divine domain, and all of this would be some terrible dream. Or he’d stumble upon a cache of magical items enough to put Karsus to shame, enough to live out the rest of his days safely (how he planned to do this while going for days on end without leaving his bedroom didn’t precisely follow logically, he would admit, but then, it was a miracle he was hoping for). 

But to accept miracles was to accept that their opposite could occur. Catastrophes. Terrible streaks of improbable bad luck. One day being the lover of a goddess and the next facing his inevitable, shameful death, for example.

And, for example, he could all too easily picture going out to a party and discovering he’d left his arcane gate keys at home and was therefore stuck surrounded by thousands of civilians while the bomb in his chest counted down inevitably, as occurred in his more memorable and sadly recurring nightmares. If something good could save him, why couldn’t something awful occur just as suddenly to make him a danger to everyone he knew and loved— or at least, whom he marginally liked within a professional setting?

Well, as it turned out, a miracle did occur. It came from the sky, just like the best miracles did. It whisked him away quick as a blink. It took care of all, or rather most of his problems, in one fell swoop, replacing them with incredibly urgent but at least refreshingly different problems, like how to get out of this portal he was stuck in.

And true to his worst nightmares, it had also been a bloody awful catastrophe. Hundreds were dead, though that at least wasn't his fault. Thousands, perhaps millions more would die if they were not successful. It was utterly improbably—insane, in fact!— that he’d fallen in amongst the one group with any real hope of stopping the Absolute’s horrific plan from succeeding. They were, as one with far less education than he might say, in the shit, facing dangers that few but the greatest heroes had ever been forced to contemplate. By all accounts, he should be rocking back and forth in the corner of his tent, gibbering with terror. 

Instead, Gale was smiling. He hadn’t even realized he was smiling until Tav had glanced back and said:

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” 

Tav raised had an eyebrow. It wasn’t even a mean-spirited question. In the early morning hours, after a scrounged-up breakfast of whatever was left over from the camp of those tomb robbers they’d interrupted, it might have been the simple pleasantries he might have experienced from his once politely disinterested colleagues, except…. Tav was sincere. Perhaps faintly amused. The rest of the sentence remained unspoken, the laughter dancing in their eyes that took in all the misfortunes that surrounded their merry band, the Nautiloid, their bare-bones camp, their improbable and still highly doubtful survival. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Theirs. 

Gale looked around and for the first time in more months than he cared to really think about, he wasn’t surrounded by the warm, wood-paneled walls of his tower. The bookshelves. The feather bed and the balcony with his view of the harbor. All the comforts of home and all the bleak, unbearable solitude of those same walls over and over, day in and day out, as he woke up and stared at his ceiling and sometimes, if Tara wasn’t around, just rolled over and went back to sleep for as long as he could force his body down if it meant not facing another day like this. 

No, he was surrounded by cliffs and forests, dirt paths and the lingering burnt ozone smell of the crashed Nautiloid and the unfortunately building stench of stale blood and unwashed bodies that would only deepen with every mile they walked. He was surrounded by faces, unfamiliar, some friendly, some distrustful, but all of them desperate, all of them pulling together towards the same goal. 

He wasn’t alone. For the first time in so long he wasn’t alone, and awful as it would be to say aloud, the fact that he also wasn’t alone in facing the threat of his own destruction, that each of his companions were in the same spot, working on the same problem was… well. He hadn’t felt this sort of camaraderie since his school days. Perhaps… never. 

Perhaps never. 

Gale snorted, chuckling to himself, and met Tav’s eye. “I rather think you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The corner of Tav’s lips twitched upward. “Try me.” 

Gale regarded his friend, his savior, the hand that had reached out to his while he hung suspended in a void of nothingness, after so long in a far more comfortable, far more terrible void of solitude, and thought about miracles. And how accepting the good ones could happen also meant accepting the bad ones. Or perhaps they were just two sides of the same coin.

Perhaps he was not so abandoned by all the gods as he thought, to be here, on the other side of his tower walls, on the other side of sanity, on the other side facing down almost inevitable doom. Maybe the key to a miracle was knowing when you had one, as he had failed to see when he had one in his arms. Never again. But then, he’d always been a quick study, and liked to think he knew how not to make the same mistake twice.

“Would you believe,” Gale said, “that yesterday, before the Nautiloid, was the worst day of my life?” 

Tav blinked. “Before the Nautiloid?” Gale nodded and rather than scoff, Tav appeared to consider his answer. “And today?” 

The answer stuck in Gale’s throat, a rare occurrence for him, all the more rare because the truth was bubbling up there already and it was too soon, far too soon, he didn’t want to sound like a lunatic, it was already crazed enough to say that their ordeal was the end of one far worse for him. “The day’s still young,” Gale remarked with a good-natured shrug, glancing towards the horizon as if considering the time and not the truth of needing a moment to gather himself. “Why don’t we venture forth and see what it brings, shall we?” 

The best, Gale swallowed back at the sight of Tav’s answering smile. The very best. Isn’t that the maddest part of it all?

[princess-leaorgana]

Fond of You

Summary: Cursed by Shadow Magic and a bomb inside of himself, Gale of Waterdeep takes on one more challenge. Prequal to my longer series 'Of Waterdeep' that I'll be writing little bits of here and their that reflect events that take place in-game.

Gale x Tav (Tavriel, human sorcerer female, described)

M/F

Warnings- Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3

Read here on Ao3

Gale wasn’t used to being nervous. He excelled at almost every single thing he had ever attempted, and when he was denied a request, he had always figured out a way to get what he wanted. He was privileged and talented, he was ambitious, so nervous was not a normal feeling for him to have. But tonight he was nervous. He was very nervous. He felt stupid about being nervous, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had just been tasked with an impossible task. Self-sacrifice, by divine request. He had been given control back to his body, but only for this. To let the synthetic, cryptic magic that had a hold over his whole life for the past year finally be under his control, until he was able to unleash it. He was given something back, his autonomy, yes, but he was also given back his nerve. There was something, through all of their groups adventures and misadventures he had been pining to do. He wanted more than anything to remove the tadpole from his head and the evil of this cult from Faerun, but not every second of his time was thinking and hatching new ways to do this. He was a human, a human who hadn’t had a lot of social activity in a long time, and now a very loud part of him was dying for more.

‘You look like a wet baby cow.’ Gale’s face turned bright red and he turned to his left. Astarion had snuck up on him at the campfire. That was a very annoying habit the elf had. He had a smarmy little look on his face.

‘I don’t think I want to know what that is supposed to mean,’ Gale remarked, with a decent amount of snark in his voice. Astarion’s smirk grew.

‘It's supposed to mean exactly what I said. You, Gale of Waterdeep, look like a baby cow who has been drenched, pining over at the wilderness. Mummy is coming right back, not to worry,’ he said and tutted playfully and Gale sighed out. His nerves were certainly gone, now that he was talking to Astarion. The vampire was charming, of course he was. The vampire was handsome, of course he was. But the vampire was a snobby asshole who had no idea when to shut up. It was very annoying how Astarion was truly loved by all, but certainly the first one fed to a pack of gnolls if a sacrifice was needed. Gale looked back at the thicket of trees, trying to ignore Astarion. ‘Fine, I was trying to be nice, so now I’ll be honest. Could you please go to her, confess your love to her and rut in a bush somewhere so we no longer have to deal with the sad baby cow face?’ Gale turned bright red again, his ears hot. He shot a look at Astarion, who was no longer smirking. He looked annoyed. ‘Although, now that I think about it, newly matched Gale might be more annoying than love-lost pining Gale.’ Gale stood up from his spot in front of the fire, trying to ignore Astarion, but the elf had one more damned thing to say. ‘I don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, Gale. She’s very….giving,’ he said and Gale stopped dead. He had been wanting to just go away, walk before he did or said anything too stupid, but Astarion had gotten under his skin.

‘After that little scrap we just had with those shadow demons, do you really think I’m the one you want to anger, Astarion?’ He asked and Astarion sat up straighter. A fight just won, luckily, and although no one was really keeping track of kills, Gale’s recent performance in the battlefield made him a fire wielding menace. Astarion laughed a little and put his hands up.

‘Oh, now, Gale, you know I was just-’

‘And she is giving. She’s very giving. Both you and I are very lucky she’s so giving, or I’d be in some remote cave in The Underdark and you’d already been captured by Gur,’ he added, pointing a very stern finger at the elf. Astarion didn’t get another word in before Gale walked away in search of the very person they were talking about, Tav. Tavriel. She was the very point, the epicenter of his nerves that evening, and he would face her, head on. He found her where she said she would be, at the river, washing her clothing.

She knelt over the water, scrubbing fabric. Gale watched her for a moment. He had the instinct to turn around and leave her alone, because how could he do this? How could he confess to her? Confess to her that he adored her, he was falling for her. It wasn’t much of a secret, and Tavriel had, on two occasions, suggested that the two of them become closer, but both times he let the moment slip from his fingers. How could he be so foolish? Both times he had been overcome with worry that the Orb in his chest would detonate if he became too excitable. Spending a night with Tavriel, or even just having her kiss him would be exciting enough. Although, it would have been a very fine way to go, he would never want to put her in any danger. But there wasn’t any danger anymore. No more sating the dark magic within to keep him alive. He only had to command it, he controlled it now. And now he wanted a little more control over his life.

Tavriel was in a nightgown, sort of. A linen dress, but nothing on her feet. That was always the strangest thing about Tav, when all was calm, she never wore anything on her damned feet. He always meant to ask her if she needed shoes, but he didn’t know if that was a delicate question or not. Her hair was still up in a slick braid, it was always that way. He imagined for a moment what it might look like down and he shook his head. He took a few more steps towards her and cleared his throat. She jumped a little and turned to look at him. She grinned. He couldn’t help but copy her.

‘Hello Gale,’ she said and tilted her head. ‘Did you need anything?’ She asked. Oh he did indeed, but he shook his head.

‘No, sorry, I don’t want to disturb you, I only wanted to…chat,’ he said and her grin widened. She nodded her head to space next to her and Gale walked over. She loved chatting with Gale. They were very different people, at first she thought Gale thought very little of her. He was a renowned wizard, a sage, she was a sorcerer. She was very powerful, but she was not as learned as he. Her magic just came to her, but he understood it. He would have had to or he wouldn’t be able to control the Weave at all. Wizards and sorcerers were always known to butt heads. But Tavriel liked Gale. She liked him a lot. He was also just joyful to listen to. When he was proficient at something, he was a showman, and it really amused her.

‘Am I getting another lesson?’ She asked as he sat next to her.

‘That was not the plan, but if my lady is requesting one,’ he said and she giggled. His lady. She knew that was just how Gale spoke, but it still made her blush.

‘What was the plan then?’ She asked him, wringing out a pair of socks.

‘Make an ass of myself,’ he said and Tavriel snorted and shook her head, placing her socks in a little basket.

‘Now what is that supposed to mean?’ She asked him, turning her attention to him fully. She had such bright blue eyes, round features, freckles across her face, she struck him so. Gale looked down for a moment.

‘I’ve been…waiting to tell you something for a while now. For a long while now-’

‘Yes?’ She interrupted, leaning in closer to him. He looked back up at her and he thought he felt his heart stop. When he was younger, before he shared a bed with the goddess of magic, Gale was very easily swayed by pretty girls. And he was charming, handsome and quite well off. Girls used to swarm him, and he got himself in trouble with that a lot. But now, a man in his early forties, a man who had experienced more than many men in history had ever experienced, he was repeatedly struck by this little sorcerer. He had planned a little speech for her, his confession, but it was gone now. He could barely blink. She looked so earnest. It would be obvious to the blind that Tavriel was very keen on him, the most logical part of Gale’s brain knew she was. But he couldn’t seem to admit it to her that he liked her as well, more than likely, he liked her more than she could realize. He might have loved her. ‘Gale?’ She asked as he was taking so much time to think. He blinked and cleared his throat.

‘We’ve been together for a while now-no, I mean adventuring together not-’ he shut his eyes and ran a hand through his hair in embarrassment. ‘And in that time I’ve grown…very fond of you,’ he said and opened his eyes. He searched Tavriel’s eyes, why were they so kind to him? The truth was, she was desperate. She had flirted with him twice, both times being rather forward, as she had never been a shy person. She felt very comfortable around Gale, but as two of her advances were met with nerves and shyness, she refused to push further. Their group had to get along and work together more than anything, so she would not create a strain or awkward drift between them by being too forward.

‘Really?’ She asked him softly and he nodded. ‘How fond?’ She asked, her voice a whisper. That question gave him a little relief. He felt stupid being so nervous, she didn’t need to spell it out for him to know how much she cared for him. His face grew a kind smile.

‘Very fond,’ he told her, his voice soft and low, speaking just for her. She felt her heart flip and she looked down at the grass and mud beneath them. She was grinning so wide her face would become sore.

‘I am very happy to hear that,’ she said after a moment of composing herself and she looked back at him. Her freckled cheeks were red. ‘Finally,’ she added and he gave her a little laugh. It was bold, but it was very true, finally indeed. The two shared a nervous giggle and Tavriel glanced out on the water. ‘What now, then?’ She asked and bit her bottom lip. His brown eyes followed her movement and made eye contact with her again.

‘I’d walk through a pit of lava if it meant I could kiss you,’ he admitted and Tavriel needed no more permission. The sorcerer flung herself up to meet Gale’s lips with hers. He was taken aback, but did not waste a second of time. The last time his lips were met with another mortals, well, that was a long time ago. His physical relationship with his patron was different. Everything was illusionary, made of Weave, nothing true. Nothing mortal. He had forgotten the little tingle he felt when kissing another. The way he could hear her breathing, how she smelled. He kissed her back, promising himself that a first kiss should be just that, a first kiss. He didn’t need to make more of it, it was special on its own. He placed a hand on her cheek and lifted his lips from hers, but touched his forehead down to keep in contact with her. Her eyes were so beautiful and bright. She looked so happy.

‘Was that worth a lava pit?’ She whispered and he smiled and hummed a little. She giggled at his reaction and reached her hand out slowly. She was reaching just above his wrapshirt, at his mark, his brand. She’d called it a tattoo before, that certainly wasn’t what it was. ‘Is this going to be alright?’ She asked and he nodded. Although his stomach and heart were both flipping wildly, the Netherese Orb was silent among the rest of his organs. She reached further and touched it gently and Gale let out a faint whimper. Her eyes grew and he shook his head.

‘Sorry, it’s been a long time,’ he said and she nodded and let her hand drop.

‘I’ll go slow,’ she said and he shook his head.

‘Please don’t,’ he asked and she smiled. ‘Since our kidnapping, it’s become very clear to me that every single day could be our last. Even before the kidnapping, to be fair, but we have had ourselves mortal perils galore as of late. I don’t want to waste any more time than I already have. I don’t want to rush or pressure, but Tavriel…I cannot stop thinking about you. Since you weakened my portal on that first day you have strengthened my heart,’ he told her and her face melted. He was a sweet man. Tavriel did have a little secret, one she would probably have to admit to him, with all of the other confessions. Tavriel had never had a male partner before. She liked men, but was much more comfortable with women. There was something so different about her wizard, she just felt so comfortable around him. She never wanted him out of her sight, he made her laugh. He was so kind and positive, she adored him. She leaned up for another kiss and sighed happily when she felt him kiss her back. It was a new feeling, kissing someone with a beard. Where Tavriel was from, facial hair wasn’t common at all. She loved Gale’s beard. He groomed it well, it matched his beautiful hair and his masculine facial features. She wanted him, she wanted to take him to her tent and hold him, touch him, anything, but she would need a bit more time to prepare herself for that.

‘You are a very good kisser,’ she whispered lightly and he chuckled and sat up properly.

‘You’re a bad liar,’ he responded and she giggled and bit her lip.

‘Could we take a walk? Get out of the mud?’ She asked and he nodded, getting himself up with a grunt, but helped her up quickly. She took his hand and stood up with him. ‘How are you feeling?’ She asked him, not letting his hand go, not just yet.

He looked up at her question, up at the terrifying night sky. They were in tents under the protection of dim torches and the power of a light cleric. The lands around them were cursed in shadow weave and nothing but despair lingered. An hour ago, he would have given her a very clear answer to her question. He was feeling dread, anxiety, fear. Perils aside, Gale was usually very positive. Tavriel could attest her bravery to Gale’s positivity. Always making light of each situation helped her face many things in these past days she wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. 

‘I don’t think there is a very good answer to that question,’ he said, looking back at her. ‘But after talking with Eliminster and now you…it’s hard for me to think about what lies just beyond our camp,’ he said and she gave his hand a little squeeze.

‘Elimister’s message left you…happy?’ She asked and he laughed hard and shook his head.

‘Gods no! I mean yes, there was a sliver of hope and relief knowing I would no longer be a danger to myself and all of you, but the rest, the bigger part of that message, happiness is not the emotion I would use to describe how I am feeling,’ he said and she nodded. That made complete sense to her. She had been present during Elminster’s visit. She knew how she could describe her emotions on that visit. Anger. She was still angry about it. ‘However, if we could just leave this conversation to what we are talking about now, I’d be very happy,’ he said and Tavriel nodded. She and Gale hadn’t spoken much about Gale’s new divine mission. Tavriel was convinced Gale was going to go ahead with it. Tavriel would absolutely not allow him to. ‘Because you, you make me happy Tavriel, happier than I’ve been in…well over a year.’ Tavriel squeezed his hand.

‘I’ve never envied all of that about you Gale. You were Msytra’s chosen, her lover, a renowned, powerful and talented wizard, yes, but…to be and feel such loneliness, it breaks my heart to think of you like that. You’re a wonderful man, and tadpole or otherwise, I’m very lucky to know you. To have you in my life,’ Tavriel spoke as they began to walk. ‘We all are,’ she finished and Gale chuckled.

‘Well, you know how to get to a man’s heartstrings, don’t you?’ He asked her and she grinned. She looked down at their interlocked hands and was instantly reminded of one of the first times Gale and her spent any time together. His little Weave lesson. It was the first time Gale had ever gotten a hint that Tavriel was keen on him. They had opened communication between them, their thoughts in a moment of comforting Weave. She might have been thinking about what it would be like to take a romantic walk with Gale, hand in hand.

‘Hmm…just like that moment we shared. Perhaps I have a little talent in Divination,’ she said haughtily, and Gale chuckled and looked down at their hands as well.

‘I used to think very little of Divination when I was younger, but I have dabbled in it. I find most wizards who claim they are sufficient in it are liars, making most people skeptical of the art,’ he told her and she hummed in response.

‘I assume your practice in Divination did not give you fair warning about our misadventures,’ she said, almost being hopeful, as if Gale had some knowledge hidden away. He shook his head.

‘No, believe it or not, locked away in my little tower, I never exactly wanted to see my future,’ he said, his voice a little low. Tavriel sighed and stopped walking. She faced Gale and he frowned.

‘I’m sorry, I know you said you didn’t want to, but Gale, we are going to find another way, I promise. We’ve gotten through a lot together and we can certainly-’ Gale lifted his hand and she stopped talking. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered and Gale just shook his head.

‘We haven’t found whatever it is that is The Absolute. There is quite a high chance that when we face it, The Orb will seem like a gift,’ he told her and she frowned. ‘Let us have this discussion then, please,’ he said and she chewed on her bottom lip. She would do anything to keep Gale safe. Allowing him to detonate was absolutely not in her list of possible outcomes. He had said that if Mystra and Elminster said this was the only way, then it was, and Tavriel just stared at the jarring hole in that solution. What if Gale had already died? What if they failed him in their journey so far and he never satiated The Orb with a magical item? What if the nautiloid crash killed him? What if his body gave into ceremorphosis? Then all of life was doomed? She refused to believe it, there was always another way. The Orb might be an easy way out, but it wouldn’t be for Tavriel. She would not allow him to be a sacrifice.

‘I’m sorry that I’m being selfish Gale, you’re going through enough, you don’t need me nagging at you,’ she said softly and sighed.

‘Yes, damn you for giving me something worth living for,’ he told her with a little smile. She looked up at him and half smiled back.

‘You have plenty to live for,’ she told him and he grunted. ‘No no, you speak very highly of your mother. I don’t know if I can say I have the same relationship with mine, but I have a feeling yours would be devastated if she were to lose you,’ she said and he laughed hard at that and he nodded. ‘And Tara? Your tressym? Surely you’d like to keep your best friend happy,’ she said with a confident smile. He shook his head, but he was smiling.

‘I could imagine the three of you getting along quite well,’ he said and smirked. ‘Stubborn, steely, all of you, and brilliant. And much too kind to me,’ he added and she nudged him. She looked at him, trying to find a way to lighten the mood and change the subject. She would not let it go, but she would for tonight.

‘So, how about that lecture?’ She asked him and he lit up a little.

‘Really?’ He asked her and she nodded.

‘Yes, and I will practice and perfect it, give us something to do tonight and…future nights,’ she said and he grinned.

‘How could I possibly refuse that, now…what shall she be taught then?’ He asked and their hands released as he brought one up to his chin. ‘Your current talents all line up in the elements, so let us use that to our advantage. What element do you feel most natural in?’ He said and she tilted her head.

‘Fire I have the most fun with, but my body seems to almost default to lightning, so I’m not exactly sure how to answer that,’ she said and he nodded.

‘Always knew you to be a firecracker,’ he told her and she grinned. ‘But lightening could be a great way to demonstrate the study of Evocation, it is my specialty. The study of controlling offensive elemental magic,’ he told her and lifted his hand. From the ground to his hand, bright blue bolts of lightning crackled. ‘You or any of our companions have never been hurt by anything I’ve casted, correct?’ He asked and she nodded. ‘That is by design. Now, go on,’ he said and nodded to his hand. ‘Reach out to it,’ he said and she obeyed. Lightning would not hurt Tavriel, so she had no fear. As she did, the flow of electricity seemed to bend away from her, like oil meeting water. She glanced up at him and he was grinning, very proud of himself indeed. The lightning disappeared. ‘Now you,’ he said and waved his hand. Tavriel chewed on her lip and raised her hand, copying Gale. Without much of a thought, angry lightning erupted from her palm and connected easily to the ground. Her magic was a bit more wild, but the same spell either way. Gale put his hand close and she hummed.

‘Wait,’ she said and placed her other hand under the first, causing the lightning to go between her hands. She figured she would have more control of it this way. He nodded.

‘Oh, good thinking, very clever,’ he said and her sparks brightened at his compliment. ‘Now, concentrate on your target. You only want to hit your hand, yes? Anger, you want to use anger, whatever might give you that feeling, use that to concentrate,’ he told her and she blinked a few times. She closed her eyes, not having a very easy time channeling her anger. But then she found it. Mystra. How ironic. ‘Do you have it?’ He asked her and she nodded and opened her eyes, looking at him. She felt electricity in her hair. Oh, she was rather angry. But she would need to channel that to her hand. Her left hand was now the lady of mysteries, goddess of magic. Another god to demand a mortal sacrifice their life for ‘the greater good’ because a god is too lazy to care enough. To care about those who gave everything to them, so they could have their damned power. A rogue spark flew, but Gale lifted his hand, trusting her. Gently, he lifted and very subtly, her sparks shot away from his hand. It did not bend gracefully like Gale’s demonstration, but it broke, as if his hand was cutting her magic. ‘Oh, very good. I’ve not yet seen it like that…’ he said and she looked back up at him, smiling at his compliment, but as her concentration shifted, so did her anger, and poor Gale bore the brunt of it. He moved back quickly, holding his hand and shouted out.

‘Oh!’ Tavriel squeaked and took his hand quickly, hissing. ‘Oh my gods, Gale, I’m so sorry,’ she said hurriedly, checking his hand. A little scorched for sure. She blew icy breath on the wound, just enough to cool him down.

‘It’s alright, I’m alright, I should have known better, but by Oghma’s lute, what were you casting?’ He asked. ‘I demonstrated a mere witch bolt,’ he told her and she frowned up at him and shrugged.

‘Lightning,’ she said in a soft voice, feeling horribly guilty. Gale looked at her from a moment and chuckled.

‘Well, that showed me,’ he said and laughed. He examined his hand quickly and shook his head. ‘It is no matter, I am fine, and I was preparing for this experiment not to work, please stop giving me that look,’ he said, still laughing a little. Tavriel felt embarrassment rise in her cheeks. Gale recognized that very quickly and lifted his mildly scorched hand to her chin, two fingers gently lifting it. That made Tavriel feel a whole different set of nervous emotions. ‘I’m fine,’ he told her, smiling happily. ‘Come now, let us try once more, concentrate this time, don’t let me distract you,’ he told her and she nodded. ‘I know I’m devastatingly charming, but you must focus,’ he said playfully, but there was a shallow overconfidence in his voice. Tavriel smiled and shook her head. She gave way to a giggle and refocused, lifting her hands once more.

The lesson only resulted in two more little zaps to Gale’s hands, and the two decided to walk back to camp. Gale happily carried Tavriel’s laundry. Back at camp, Shadowheart and Astarion sat at the fire, both with goblets in their hands. It was easily assumed they were not drinking the same liquid. They were chatting, but once they caught sight of Tavriel and Gale they stopped. Shadowheart smiled politely, but Astarion was less subtle.

‘There you are! We were getting so worried!’ He said with a smirk and Gale scowled.

‘You look it,’ Tavriel said sarcastically and walked to her little tent. Gale followed her and she took her little hamper from him. ‘Thank you, you really didn’t need to,’ she told him and placed it down so that she could hang her clothing out to dry. Gale smiled down at her.

‘I have to begin to pay you back, for giving me such a magical night,’ he told her softly. ‘I do hope it is not the last of such nights,’ he said and Tavriel smiled up at him.

‘It’ll take more than a century old curse to stop me,’ she told him, just above a whisper and Gale’s smile grew. It was nice to be wanted like that. That Tavriel wanted to be around him. It had been a long time since he had felt that sort of comfort.

‘Rest well, Tavriel,’ he told her and she leaned up for one last kiss of the night. He kissed her forehead, being polite about the few companions that, although were decently far away, were staring at them. Gale, although very excited to share his affection with Tavriel, was raised very differently than most of his companions. He was raised to be a gentleman, gentlemen did not commit acts of public affection. Though their camp in Shadow Cursed Reithwin wasn’t exactly polite society like Waterdeep and Tavriel certainly was not raised to be a gentle lady. She furrowed her brows and leaned up more, leaving him with a sweet little kiss. Nothing to excite anyone over. Gale was not expecting that at all and was a little taken aback by it. It was welcomed, very welcomed, of course. He blinked down at her.

‘Good night Gale,’ she whispered and smiled, planting her feet back on the ground. He was bright red and he turned to his tent, hearing a faint little giggle behind him. Tavriel happily went back to her laundry and was immediately biraged by Shadowheart. The half-elf was a little tipsy, which usually made her snarky, but she looked as joyful as Tavriel felt.

‘Well well well, finally time that spark was finally ignited,’ she said and Tavriel giggled and hushed Shadowheart.

‘I think he’s a little embarrassed,’ she said softly and Shadowheart just kept smiling.

‘I can imagine anyone would be a little nervous after all that time in self-isolation, you can’t exactly blame him,’ she said, very cheerful. Tavriel frowned and shook her head.

‘I don’t, I blame myself. I’m not exactly shy myself,’ she said and Shadowheart’s grin grew.

‘Then you will complete him. And him you, most importantly, of course,’ she said and Tavriel nodded. She hoped her companion was correct on that front. She glanced in the direction of Gale’s tent, the usual purple glow peering through the door flap. Tavriel had seen a lot in the last month, she’d changed a bit as well. She wasn’t confident all of her companions and herself would make it to the end of this adventure, this battle against the Absolute. But she knew one thing, she loved that gods damned wizard.

[serenaoffaerun]

Acquiescence

My version of Chapter 2 to @alpydk's piece, "Consequences" - PLEASE READ THAT FIRST!

Summary: Tav slept with Mizora, Gale left. BIG catty fight ensued for the remainder of their adventures in Baldur's Gate. Hate sex ensues at the epilogue party. And then...

Word Count: 2,640

CW: References to (consenting) sexual encounter, depression, and alcoholism.

Screenshot: Taken from my own gameplay. Please do not re-post as your own.

There are a couple more chapters to follow, because my brain went HAM on this assignment. Stay tuned throughout the week for more!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He spoke first, finally standing up and putting himself back together in his pants. “So, now what?”

She turned to him and pulled her dress back down, trying to flatten the wrinkles and keep her hands busy.

“What do you mean, ‘Now what?’” she barked, a tone slipping out much harsher than she meant. Clenching her fists and slamming her eyes shut, she shook her head quickly, not wanting to go back down this road yet again.

“Sorry, I just…” She sighed and looked at him, continuing in a much gentler tone, “I just mean where could we possibly go from here?” Guilt stabbed at her heart for the eight hundred and fifteenth time that week, and she knew that she was still too tipsy to hide her real emotions much longer.

He sighed, crossed his arms and looked down at his shoes, idly kicking at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s anywhere to go. But…” He hesitated, unsure if he could commit to his next thought.

He looked up at her while keeping his arms crossed, lest he slip into some inadvertently romantic gesture like grabbing her hands. As he took in the sight of her hair, disheveled from their…escapade, hands nervously fidgeting with her dress, moonlight radiating off her skin, he felt that familiar heartache he’d been carrying around the last six months bloom in his chest. Hells below, he’d missed her, even after all the venomous words and hurled spells.

Her eyes were much softer than they had been earlier this evening. Plus, she’d actually apologized for her tone. Apologized.

He saw a door being cracked ever so slightly open, and gods be damned if he wasn’t going to push through it.

“But I don’t want to believe that,” he continued, voice solemn and quiet. “We’ve done some pretty impossible things together. Surely there’s some kind of progress to be made.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek as tears welled in her eyes. Damn it all to the hells and back, she did not want to cry. It could be the wine, the adrenaline crash from the mind-shattering rage orgasm, the long-lost gentle touch in the stroking of his thumb against her hand afterwards…or his words just now that betrayed hope in his softened voice. His stupid, comforting voice from his stupid, handsome face looking at her with stupid, soulful eyes that bore a hole in her soul once again.

It was her turn to examine her own shoes now, crossing her arms while sniffling sharply, tensing her jaw and trying to will back the emotions from escaping.

‘Fuck it,’ she thought, meeting his gaze and steeling her resolve.

“I don’t think I can talk about this in-person yet. I don’t think either of us can. But we clearly have unresolved shit to deal with.”

‘It’s a start,’ Gale thought to himself.

He took a slow, deep breath and said, “How about we exchange letters for a while. Take time to properly get our thoughts out without fueling each other’s tempers. Give us time to process and think out our responses.”

She huffed a brief laugh through her nose. “What, communicate like actual functioning, mentally healthy human beings?” They both half-smiled and looked back towards the ground, thankful for the slight emotional reprieve. She continued, “We clearly seem to bring out the worst in each other, don’t we?”

“That we do,” he replied before looking back up. “But there was a time that we’d also brought out the best in each other, once. I refuse to believe we can’t find our way back there again. Someday.” Much to his displeasure, his voice cracked a bit during the last part.

Tav’s breath caught as a few beats of silence went by, her lip quivering. She wanted to run at him and hug his neck and cry until the sun came up. She felt hope for the first time since that dreadful night with Mizora that they could act like reasonable people with each other again, if nothing else. ‘Someday.’ But she figured she’d better quit while they were at least on neutral ground.

“Alright,” she said quietly. She finally looked back up, trying to appear more confident. “I don’t know where to begin, but since I started all this, I’ll go first. Expect a letter in the next week.”

He pressed his lips in a line and nodded his head curtly, if nothing else but to keep himself from rushing forward and crashing their lips together again. He could tell that this was equally difficult for her and wanted nothing more in that moment than to comfort and be comforted by her. But that would have to wait. He didn’t want to push her away.

“Alright. I’ll make sure to respond within the week after.”

“Alright,” she replied.

“Okay,” he said.

After a couple of seconds of silent gazing. She turned on her heel and walked towards her portal home. Before she stepped through, she paused, looked over her shoulder, and said, “Goodnight, Gale.”

Bowing his head slightly, he answered, “Goodnight, Tav.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was pouring rain in Baldur’s Gate when Tav returned.

‘How fucking appropriate.’

As she walked up the steps to her front door, her hands trembling as she brought the key to the lock. She knew what waited inside, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face it yet. Hesitating with her hand on the knob, she closed her eyes, swallowed thickly, and took a deep, shaky breath.

‘Come on, Tav. You’ve walked into rooms filled with goblins, tadpoled drow, mindflayers, and torture devices before. Get a grip.’

As she swung the door open, she was hit with a wall of smells: stale alcohol, dust, even rotten food. Lip quivering and feet unsteady, she leaned on her door frame looking inside. Books littered the floor in a pile on one end of the room, having been shoved off the shelves in anger a month ago. How dare they smell like his tent. His tent that had contained the tomes of every adventure’s loot pile, begging to be scoured for information that would nudge them closer to a victory. The tent where she’d lain every night for months, her head on his chest, breathing in the smell of him and the pages and letting the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.  

Down the wall from the traitorous book pile was a waste bin filled with dirt and burned scraps of fabric. The charred remains of her camp clothing. That cloth had the audacity of smelling like him too, even after they had started sleeping as far away from each other as possible in the remaining weeks after “The Fight.” She couldn’t explain why, but she’d held on to them in the bottom of her wardrobe when she unpacked. Something inside of her wouldn’t let her get rid of them.

That is, until after she’d returned from Waterdeep with her heart re-broken. The first thing she did when she got home was rip those clothes from the drawer, toss them in the bin, pour oil on them, and light a match. It wasn’t her brightest moment, though the flames that started to lick up the wall sure were. After taking an entire sack of dirt from her garden and quickly dumping it over the fire, she didn’t have the energy or motivation to clean it up.  

Wine bottles littered the tables and the floor throughout the rest of the room, some broken and remnants spilled. Down the hall in the kitchen, some plates were left on the counter with remains of meals barely eaten, days old at this point.

Never would she have admitted to anyone at the party that her home, her life, had been reduced to a disheveled mess of depression and filth. It took everything she had within her to get dolled up for tonight’s gathering, to the end that she was over an hour late. It’s why the first words out of her mouth were a dig at Gale: she was overcompensating.

She made her way over to her living room sofa, collapsing into a pile of tears and rain-soaked hair,Gale’s seed still coating the inside of her thighs. Every emotion washed over her as heavy as the rain outside her windows: guilt, anger, hope, relief, uncertainty, disappointment in herself for being so weak… Kicking off her shoes where she lay, Tav buried her face in the pillow, and cried.

One night. She would give herself one more night to wallow in her self-pity and heartache. First thing in the morning, she’d clean up the house. She would take a shower. She would feed herself.

And she’d write that damned letter. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Meanwhile, Gale popped back into his library in Waterdeep, walking past the dusty shelves, the stacks of papers to grade, the pile of crumpled up letters in the trash – the letters he’d started writing dozens of times over to her. Some were pleading for forgiveness at how harshly he’d reacted to her betrayal, not even giving her a chance to speak. Some were filled with more digs and rage, wanting to make it perfectly clear that he would not be speaking with her from this day forward, including at the party. Others were just random lines of free thought, like how much he missed her and how she inhabited his dreams. He walked past those discarded thoughts and headed straight for the balcony, opening the double doors to the salty sea air and falling back on his favorite bench.

Blowing a huff of air out from his bottom lip to push away some of the stray hairs away from his eyes, he thought, ‘Well, now you’ve done it, genius. You let your guard down, lost all self-control, and allowed her to walk her pretty little high heels right over your heart again, didn’t you?’

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples like that would erase the memories from the previous hour.

‘Can’t rightly blame her completely though, I suppose. Not like I can say I just so happened to trip and landed with my dick in between her thighs, can I?’

Leaning back again, he let his head fall against the outer wall, arms crossed, looking up at the stars.

A few moments of silence went by before he heard, “You’re brooding again, Mr. Dekarios.” Tara had landed on the other end of the terrace without him even noticing, which already told her he was miles away.

“I do not brood, Tara. I’m reflecting,” he replied, still looking up, a slight pout in his voice.

“Brooding, reflecting, contemplating… Call it what you’d like, but I get the impression the night took an even worse turn after my departure.” Tara hopped up on the table across from him, settling in to pick at her claws with her teeth, dinner having recently been acquired on a neighboring rooftop.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say it was for the worse. It’s yet to be seen if it will be for the better, however,” he replied, sitting up straighter and picking at his own fingernails. He didn’t want to look her in the eye. He already knew what was coming.

“…Well? I’m listening…” Tara drawled, still busying herself with her claws.

There was another several beats of silence before he mumbled, “We had sex again.”

Still attentive to her claws, she said, “I’m sorry, dear, I couldn’t quite hear you. Enunciate your words, for goodness’ sake.”

He gave an exasperated sigh before practically shouting, “I made love to her across the top of the picnic table, Tara, is that what you wanted to hear? That I don’t have an ounce left of self-control and I let her completely bewitch my body and soul again? Are you happy to hear that?”

Tara had abruptly stopped cleaning her claws and stared at him unblinking. “MIS-ter Dekarios, I am SHOCKED. Can you REALLY still be so reckless. Why if your mother only knew—”

“Morena will NOT hear a SINGLE. WORD. about this, Tara, do I make myself clear?” Gale was actually shouting this time.

“How dare you raise your voice to me, why I should—” she started to lecture back at him before being interrupted again.

“Not. One. Word, Tara.” he said, voice quieter but still firm. “I am very well aware of just how much of a fool I made of myself this evening, but I managed to keep my prior relationship with Tav from Morena in the first place, including its tumultuous downfall, and I’ll not have you spilling this particular batch of tea to her, if you don’t mind.”

“Hmph,” she huffed as she put her paw down and looked away.

Gale got up and walked over to a chair at the table, sitting directly in front of her averted gaze. “Listen, Tara, I apologize for shouting, but I need you to understand something. The woman I loved, the woman who saved me from myself, from Mystra, the woman who still carries the broken pieces of my heart… She’s still in there, Tara. I saw it in her eyes. I heard it in her voice by the time we parted ways this evening.”

Tara looked back at him narrow-eyed and said, “I’m still listening.”

He took a deep breath and continued, “You know as well as I do that I haven’t been able to forget her. I’ve tried my damndest. Thrown myself into my job, tried going out to the pub for social time, graded papers and researched cures for vampirism until my eyes practically bled… But she won’t leave my heart. If there is one iota of a chance to stay in each others’ lives, to work at repairing the damage that’s been done, I can’t walk away from it again.”

Tara sat up straight and looked down her nose at the pleading wizard. “Well I certainly hope she’s not coming here any time soon. One night of indiscretion at the hands of a devil is one thing, but after all the horrible things she said to you, I don’t know if I can be so forgiving.”

Gale sat up to meet her disapproving gaze. “I’ll remind you, Tara, that I said quite the list of unpleasant things to her as well. I am not blameless in this scenario. And she won’t be coming here any time soon, for what it’s worth. We’ve agreed to write back and forth for a while, so that we may converse in a much more amiable manner.”

“Hm,” she almost snorted. “Well, I supposed that poses less of a risk of splintered tables and shredded curtains at the very least.”

“Tara…” he started scolding.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your robes in a twist. I’ll behave as long as she does. But I promise you, Mr. Dekarios, if I need to spend another several months reminding you to clean the tower, feed yourself, and pull yourself out of bed to go to the Academy, I will go straight to your mother for assistance this time.”

He didn’t want to argue. Tara had a right to be concerned, and he was honestly surprised that she’d conceded this easily to the idea of possible reconciliation with Tav in the first place.

“You won’t have to, I promise. Tomorrow, this tower will be in tip-top shape and nary a fleck of dust will grace these shelves again under my diligent cleaning rituals,” he replied, standing now, but bowing theatrically in her direction.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she retorted as she spread her wings and flew off.

His gaze followed her across the rooftops by the shore as he thought to himself, ‘These women really are going to be the death of me yet.’

[dustdeepsea]

WIP Wednesday

Edit: The story has been completed and posted here on AO3 :)

It's Wednesday here in the future :)

Working Title: Nine Lives (sequel to aqua vitae) Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: Teen (non-explicit excerpt) Relationships: Rugan/Tav (Baldur’s Gate)

This is set post-game, so possible spoilers for the end of act 3.

Note: This is a work in progress and is subject to major changes in the final published version. It is not proof-read or edited; all typos are mine.

Falling feels like flying. Tumbling through the sky, you feel like a rag doll cast out of an angry child’s pram.

One final tantrum from the Netherbrain in its death throes.

So this is how I go, you think. You feel strangely at peace, watching the water below rush towards you, smooth and serene as glass from up high. You look around at your friends, your eyes watering as the wind streams past your face. 

One last image to hold in your mind.

Gale reaches out, his hands moving in desperate patterns, even though you know that by now he’s burnt through every scrap of his reserves. At the same time, Astarion breaks the wax seal on a scroll with both hands. His catlike grace makes him appear seated in mid-air, suspended. He was always the better rogue.

You feel the gentle tug of transmutation magic, as you are lifted up by the scruff of your neck. Featherfall sparkles around you in the sunlight. You are still descending rapidly, but floating upright now. Spread out before you is the ruined cityscape, the harbour, the grey ships and their sails. Everything and everyone you’ve fought so hard for. 

You draw your arms and legs in, and shut your eyes.

The spell gives out three metres above the water, and you splash into the river. The cold water is a shock to your aching, battle-worn body. Your limbs seize up. You feel bubbles rush over and around you.

It takes a moment before your survival instincts kick in and your lungs begin to scream.

I want to live. 

The thought animates your leaden legs, forces them to flutter and kick. Thrashing your way upwards, you break the surface and gasp for air.

The end of the world has come and gone. You’ve survived.

The doors to the Elfsong are thrown wide open, and everyone in the city seems to be either passing through the bar, or spilling out into the streets with their drinks and singing loudly. The cellars have been emptied, and every bard in town seems to be playing on the same stage tonight. Commerce is the lifeblood of Baldur’s Gate, you recall Wyll saying. There’s nothing better for business than a near brush with death.

At some point, someone cast Prestidigitation on you, and pressed a hot drink into your hand. You clutch it numbly, the cup long grown cold.

Tomorrow, there will be a reckoning. You think about your remaining companions, your time together already coming to an end. So many goodbyes were already said that afternoon on the pier—you shake your head to interrupt the dismal thoughts. For now, you’re alive and that’s all that matters.

You can’t fault the people of Baldur’s Gate for celebrating. You would do the same if you were in their shoes.

The noise and press of the people around you is driving you mad. You put down your cup and push your way to the doors. All around you, the cheer goes up, red faces saluting you with their drinks. They hoot and holler, and shout your name.

“Tav! Tav! Tav!”

You smile and wave to your adoring crowd, as you edge your way to the exit. The roar of the tavern crowd fades as you leave their field of vision and they turn back to their revelry. You slip away from the crowd milling near the entrance and out into the night.

Most of the buildings in the Lower City are still standing, minus a few spires. Further away, folks stand around scattered bonfires, drinking and speaking more quietly.

You take in a deep breath and wrinkle your nose. The air is crisp but smells of acrid woodsmoke and ozone. Piles of illithid bodies are being burnt and tossed into collapsed doorways. Still, it’s better than being trapped indoors.

You exhale, and lean against a nearby facade that's intact. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath since you landed in the river.

“Now, that doesn’t sound very festive.” A gently chiding voice drifts over from the street.

You lift your head and watch its owner approach you, open bottle in hand. Of course he would be here, sauntering up to you, after half the city had been destroyed. This man clearly has nine lives.

“Rugan,” you say, and a smile breaks over his face. Exhausted as you are, you feel your lips quirk upwards in response.

“Tav.” He’s standing right in front of you now, and your body remembers a different night in a small room, lit by dim lamplight. You hope it’s not written all across your face.

“I like the hair piece,” he says, gesturing with the bottle.

Puzzled, you reach up towards your head and your hands close around a braided flower crown. Someone must have placed it on you in the tavern without you noticing. You pull it off, slowly, the wildflowers scattering tiny yellow and white petals as they catch in your hair. 

It hangs from your hands, loosely, as you glance between it and his amused face. “It’s been a very long day,” you say, finally, and he laughs.

“Long is an understatement, lass.” He offers you the bottle and you readily accept.

“Word on the street is that we have you and your crew to thank for all of us still being alive,” he says, as you take a sip. It tastes green and medicinal on your tongue. “Let me buy you a proper drink inside.”

Highsun liqueur. You lick your lips and sigh. 

“I shouldn’t.” You rub at your face and suppress a shudder at the thought of the roiling crowd in the Elfsong. “Sorry—I haven’t dared to have a drink all evening. If I accept one, I will have to drink them all, and then I'll wake up passed out in the Chionthar.”

He nods sagely, like it’s a dilemma that he’s encountered many times before. “Well, what would you like to do instead?” he asks, placidly. There’s no hint of leering or suggestion in his voice.

You’re stunned for a moment. No one’s asked you that question in a kindly manner, for a very long while. Gods and devils and their emissaries have hounded you relentlessly for what feels like forever, spurring you from one wild task to the next, the tadpole in your head all the while a ticking time-bomb.

“What should we do, Tav?” used to mean—which awful choice do we make now? Who gets to live? Who dies next?

For the first time in a long time, you can answer without despairing.

“I have an idea. Come with me.” Impulsively, you drop the flower crown on the ground, and take his hand. It’s large and warm against yours. 

He looks surprised, but doesn’t protest as you tug him towards the side of the tavern building, where fewer people are about. You hand the bottle back to him, and let go of his hand to rummage around in your satchel. With a flourish, you pull out the scroll of Dimension Door. You’ve earned this, all hundred gold pieces worth of it. No more scrimping and saving for the next fight. 

Linking your arms, you look at Rugan and flash him a perfectly ordinary, non-crazed grin. “Hold onto me,” you say, and crack the seal, teleporting you both to the rooftop of the Elfsong.

[wisteria-in-winter]

Too Busy Being Yours 💙Master List💙

They had not gotten along, at least at first.

Bal had acquaintances along the Sword Coast but none of them wizards. A few fellow sorcerers yes, but most definitely no wizards. By the nine hells did she find them arrogant and, consequently, difficult to get along with.

In her opinion Gale embodied all the worst traits of wizard kind. The man was pompous, hubristic, and by the gods he never shut up.

---

Bal hid herself away from the world for three years in Baldur's Gate to deal with her grief, unfortunately that didn't save her from being snatched up by the nautiloid. In the months that follow she learns how to make friends again, growing attached to her fellow tadpals, and eventually falling for the group's ambitious wizard. But the weight of the Sword Coast's fate rests heavily on her shoulders, and love is not always easy. When further loss and expectations take their toll, she flees from the one she cherishes most, unable to handle that he will pass long before she does.

Time and soul-searching will heal Bal's wounds, but only if she can face her fears and doubts.

---

Behold, the master list for my BG3 Gale X Fem!Tav/OC fic!

Chapter 1: How many secrets can you keep?

Chapter 2: Some things just aren't that simple.

Chapter 3: And your tears have been worthwhile, they got you through.

Chapter 4: Down, down, down by the river.

Chapter 5: Lost in the moment, years too late.

Chapter 6: Exposing cold steel, fire, beauty and rage.

Chapter 7: Leave all your shame behind the door.

Chapter 8: If I told you how I really feel would you let me in? Would you tell me all your secrets? Tell me where you've been?

Chapter 9: Shrinking walls of freedom's fantasies.

Chapter 10: Fear for naught for I'm here and I'm made of your love.

Chapter 11: The night will hold us close, and the stars will guide us home. (Smut)

Chapter 12: I think it's funny, but it seems to heal me. (More smut)

Chapter 13: Did you ever think ascension could turn you into something frightening?

Chapter 14: Now that we've come this far I bet their eyes are watching us move.

Chapter 15: For you, for you, I would bring down the heavens on this earth.

Chapter 16: Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn. (Smut. Again)

Chapter 17: Made me feel so stupid when I burned your trust tonight.

Chapter 18: Oh, how I love you.

Chapter 19: Will you love me for who I am, not who I was?

Chapter 20: They call her Mississippi, but she don't flow to me.

Chapter 21: I've just got to get a message to you.

Chapter 22: So good at being in trouble, so bad at being in love.

Chapter 23: Give peace a chance. Let the fear you have fall away.

Chapter 24: I'm on my way to being so complete.

Chapter 25: Tonight, you're all mine. (Smut)

Chapter 26: My love for you insatiable. (Rehashed smut, but from Gale's pov)

Chapter 27: But if it's forever, it's even better.

Epilogue: Dreams are nothing on my reality high.

This little project of mine is still ongoing, but I should be wrapping it up at Chapter 20. NEVER MIND, THAT AIN'T HAPPENING. I hope you enjoy reading about Bal and Gale's love story because I've enjoyed writing it.💙💙💙 Holy shit, it's finished! :D Behold the one-shot section! It's self-explanatory.

Here Be Rewards To Gain: Karlach and Bal make a bet, and Gale learns something new.

Eyes On Me, My Love: For Kinktober 2024 (Gale/Bal/Simulacrum threesome smut)

Research and Rutting: A Distressing, Yet Delightful, Draconic Dilemma: Late Kinktober 2024 entry. Childfree breeding kink with Bal/Gale.