#my mind longs to weave magic

[hush-writes-preg]

Do y'all ever just feel like you're a stranger living in an even stranger land? Like you're just not built to exist within the expectations of modern life, and your soul craves something that it can't have here?

The worlds in my mind are so much more appealing than reality, ugh.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

they're in love your honor

[ahqkas]

♯ PUPPY PRINCESS ; remus lupin

PAIRING! young!remus lupin x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! every gift of yours is something remus tends to cherish, especially your love for creating from nothing (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, remus is nothing but smitten and wrapped around your finger

NOTES! autumn’s coming and my obsession with the marauders is slowly defrosting ☹️ all the credits to the pretty devider below belong to @aqualogia !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

I. A TANGLED WEB OF YARD AND ADORATION

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE TALL WINDOWS of the Gryffindor common room, casting a warm glow across the stone walls. You're sitting comfortably on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, with your hands working steadily, creating a rhythm with the yarn and crochet hook. The familiar motion of looping the yarn through the hook brought a sense of calm, a quiet joy that you've always found in crafting.

Remus Lupin sat nearby with a thick textbook in his lap, but the words kept getting tangled in his mind due to his lack of attention on the subject. He was supposed to be studying — there's a Transfiguration exam tomorrow that he really should be preparing for — but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you. He watched the way your hands moved, the smooth, practiced motions that seem to come so naturally to you. There was something about it that fascinated him, though he couldn't quite put it into words.

"You're staring again," you say, glancing up and meeting his dark eyes with a small, knowing smile. Your tone is light, teasing. You're used to it now — how his attention drifts from his studies to you whenever you're engrossed in one of your hobbies.

Your boyfriend looked slightly embarrassed, flushed cheeks caught in the act, but he smiled back at you. "Sorry," he replied, though it didn't sound as sincere as it should. He wasn't sorry for admiring you and your skills. "I just . . . I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" you asked, your hands never pausing in their work. The yarn slides smoothly through your fingers.

"Make it look so easy," he said, genuinely curious. "It's like you're weaving magic with your hands."

You gave him a soft chuckle at that, shaking your head as you finish off another row. "It's not that complicated, really. It's just practice. Anyone can learn if they have the patience."

The werewolf nodded thoughtfully, though he was not entirely convinced he could manage it. The heavy textbook was set down, the revision long forgotten. "What are you making this time?" he asked you, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity piqued which charmed a smile on your lips.

"A scarf," you answer, keeping your focus on the yarn as you hold up the length of your still unfinished work that's slowly but surely taking shape. The stitches were tight and even and the colour of the fabric shined in the fire of the fireplace. "Winter's coming soon, and I figured you could use something warm."

Remus' brows lifted in surprise, eyes flickering between your face and the scarf in making. "For me?"

"Of course," you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I wanted to make something you'd actually use. Plus, it's a good excuse to work with this colour."

He couldn't help but linger at the scarf — a deep burgundy, the color of his tie, which reminded him of autumn leaves and Gryffindor pride. It was a shade he'd always liked, and the thought that you'd chosen it specifically with him in mind made him feel a quiet sense of gratitude. 

"Thank you," he said quietly now with sincerity lacing his every word. "I really appreciate it."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze with a smile, the kind of smile that made something warm unfurl in his chest. Something unspoken passed between the two of you — an understanding, a quiet connection that didn't need words to be felt. "I enjoy making things for people I care about," you replied. "And you can't go wrong with a good scarf."

There was a comfortable silence as you returned to your work, and Remus found himself drawn once again to the way your hands moved with such practiced grace. He'd always been fascinated by the kind of magic that doesn't come from a wand — the quiet, everyday magic that you brought to life with your hobbies. He watched as the yarn twisted and turned, forming something tangible and warm, something that wasn't there just moments before.

After a while, you glanced at him again, your eyes thoughtful. "You know," you started, voice casual but inviting, "if you ever want to learn, I could show you how to crochet. It's not as difficult as it looks."

Remus hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. He'd never thought of himself as particularly crafty — his talents have always leaned more towards theoretical things, like books and spells. But the idea of sitting with you, learning something new together, was oddly appealing. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it," he admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. A part of him was terrified his hands weren't stable enough for such work as your own were.

But you just shrugged lightly, focus still on the scarf as it grew longer with each stitch. "It's not about being good at it," you exclaimed. "It's just . . . something calming to do with your hands. A way to focus your mind on something simple."

The werewolf considered this, watching the way your hands moved with a steady, comforting rhythm. There was a kind of peace in it, a meditative quality that he couldn't help but find appealing. "Maybe I'll give it a try," he said finally, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "If you promise not to laugh at me."

"I would never. I think you might surprise yourself."

The hours slipped by as the common room gradually emptied, students heading off to their dormitories as the evening wore on. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but you and Remus remained where you were, content in each other's company. The scarf in your hands grew  longer with each passing moment, the yarn slowly transforming into something tangible, something with weight and warmth.

Eventually, you finished your work, holding up the completed scarf for Remus to see. The stitches were beautifully done, the pattern simple yet elegant, and the color — rich and deep — seemed to glow in the firelight. "What do you think?" you asked, a hint of pride in your voice at your boyfriend's speechless reaction.

Remus reached out, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It's perfect, he thinks, not just because of how it looked, but because of what it represented — your care, your thoughtfulness, the time and effort you put into making something just for him. "It's . . . perfect," he opened his heart to you, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

You gave him a sweet smile, pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad you like it."

II. THE ART OF CLAY

THE SOUND OF RAIN ECHOED SOFTLY AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF THE HOGWARTS GREENHOUSE, creating a gentle rhythm that blended with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water from overhead plants. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet soil and blooming herbs, an atmosphere so comforting to you that made the space feel like a world apart from the usual hustle and bustle of the castle. You were seated at a small worktable near the back, a lump of cool, gray clay before you, your hands already beginning to shape it into something more.

Remus Lupin stood quietly nearby, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually as he simply watched you. There was a sparkle in his gaze, the kind that comes from someone who finds fascination in the smallest details, in the quietest moments. His curiosity was piqued by the sight of you working with the clay, your hands moving with a practiced confidence that hints at countless hours spent honing your craft.

The room was otherwise empty, giving the two of you a rare moment of privacy amidst the bustling school and your friends who were constantly full of life (named James Potter and Marlene McKinnon). The greenhouse, usually a place for Herbology classes, had became your private studio, a place where you could indulge in your love for pottery — a hobby that was as grounding as it was creative.

"Do you ever get tired of making things?" Remus asked, breaking the comfortable silence. There was no hint of judgment in his tone, only genuine curiosity. He'd seen you immersed in various crafts before — crocheting, jewelry making — but each time, you seemed as passionate as ever.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Not really," you replied to his question, your hands still working the clay. "It's like . . . I don't know, a way to clear my mind. I like the idea of starting with something so simple, like a lump of clay, and turning it into something that wasn't there before."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, his eyes following the movement of your hands as they smoothed the surface of the clay. There was a certain grace in the way you worked, a rhythm that was almost hypnotic to him. "What are you making today?" he questioned again, this time moving closer to get a better look.

"A bowl," you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers pressed gently into the clay, shaping the walls of the bowl with careful precision. "Something simple, but useful. I thought it might be nice to have one for our common room. We could use it to hold things — keys, cigarettes, chocolate frogs."

A charming smile appeared on his lips at that, the idea of something as ordinary as a bowl bringing a sense of homeliness to the often chaotic Gryffindor common room. "That sounds like a good idea," the praise left him naturally when it came to you, pulling up a stool to sit beside you. "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your focus to the clay. "But be warned, it's not as exciting as it looks."

Remus didn't agree. He'd always been intrigued by the way you found joy in creating things, in bringing something new into the world with your hands. As he watched, he noticed the subtle movements of your fingers, the way they coaxed the clay into shape, turning a shapeless lump into something with form and purpose. It was a process that seemed almost magical to him, though he knew it was nothing more than skill and practice.

The rain continued to patter against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the sound of your hands working the clay. Every so often, you dipped your fingers into a small bowl of water, smoothing out imperfections and keeping the clay pliable. Remus had never seen you look so beautiful; hands dirty, hair messy, and you clothed in one of his favorite sweaters.

"You make it look easy," he commented after a while, his voice low so as not to disturb your concentration.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not always. There's a lot that can go wrong — air bubbles, cracks, the clay drying out too quickly. But that's part of the fun, I suppose. It keeps you on your toes."

He gave you a nod, understanding the appeal in a way.

After a while, you sat back slightly, examining your work with a critical eye. The bowl was nearly complete, its shape smooth and even, the walls sturdy yet delicate. "What do you think?" you asked, turning to Remus with a small smile.

He leaned in closer, studying the bowl with a thoughtful expression. "It's an excellent work," he said, his voice sincere. "You've really got a talent for this."

You blushed slightly at the compliment, but there was a pleased look in your eyes. "Thanks, love. I'm glad you think so."

III. CRAFTING CONNECTIONS THROUGH SILVER AND STONE

THE CASTLE WAS QUIET AS EVENING SETTLED OVER HOGWARTS, the usual loud of students giving way to a serene calm. The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, with only the flickering fire casting warm shadows across the burgundy rugs and tapestries. You were seated at a small table by the window, a soft light of the moon illuminating your workspace, where an array of tiny tools, shimmering beads, and delicate chains lay spread out before you.

Remus Lupin sat nearby, his attention drawn to the intricate work you were doing. He had always been fascinated by your hobbies, each one opening a door to your soul. But there was something particularly mesmerizing about watching you make jewelry — something in the way you handled the delicate materials with such care, transforming them into beautiful, wearable art. Watching your smaller hands mend the delicate pieces stirred a feeling in his chest.

"Doesn't it get frustrating?" the werewolf asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes following the careful movements of your fingers. "Working with such tiny pieces, I mean."

You smiled softly, not taking your eyes off the silver chain you were holding. "Sometimes," you admitted, carefully threading a small brown stone onto the chain. "But there's something satisfying about it too. It's like solving a puzzle, finding the right combination of stones and metals to make something that feels just right, y’know."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the array of materials on the table. Tiny glass beads of various colors sparkled in the firelight, alongside small stones and bits of silver wire that would soon be part of some new creation of yours. "It's impressive," he said quietly, more to himself than to you. "How you can take something so small and turn it into something so . . . meaningful."

You glanced up at him, a pleased smile on your lips. "Thank you, Remus. I think that's what I love about it — how something so simple can become something special, something that can be important to someone."

He watched as you carefully threaded a few more stones onto the chain, your fingers moving with the kind of ease that came from years of practice. There was a kind of magic in it, he thought — a different kind from what they learned in class, but no less powerful. It was a magic that didn't come from wands or spells, but from the heart and soul, from the desire to create something beautiful and meaningful.

"What are you making now?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in a bit closer.

"A bracelet," you replied, holding up the nearly finished piece for him to see. It was simple yet elegant, made of fine silver links with small brown and black stones interspersed between them. The stones caught the light as you turned the bracelet in your hand, their colors shifting subtly in the firelight. "I thought it might make a nice gift for someone."

Remus took in the bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship, the way the silver and stones complemented each other perfectly. "It's beautiful," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "Who's it for?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a softness in your gaze, something almost shy. "I was thinking . . . maybe you'd like it," you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

For a moment, Remus was taken aback, surprised by the offer. He hadn't expected you to be making it for him, but now that he knew, he felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling of gratitude and something more, something deeper. "For me?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I wanted to make something that would remind you of our time together," you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. "Something you could keep with you."

Remus felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and something else — something tender and profound. He looked at the bracelet again, seeing not just the beauty of the piece, but the thought and care that had gone into it, the meaning behind every detail. "I . . . I don't know what to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's . . . it's perfect. Thank you."

You smiled, the tension easing from your posture as you saw the genuine appreciation in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you said, your voice soft. "It's not much, but I wanted to give you something special. Something that's from the heart."

Remus reached out, his larger fingers brushing against the cool silver links as you handed the bracelet to him. The metal was smooth under his fingertips, the stones cool and solid. He could feel the weight of it, not just the physical weight, but the emotional significance it carried. "It's more than just 'something,'" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It means a lot to me. Really."

You watched as he carefully slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the silver and stones catching the light as they settled into place. There was something incredibly intimate about the moment, the quiet exchange of a gift that held so much meaning. It was more than just a piece of jewelry to him.

As Remus fastened the clasp, he looked at you with deep, unspoken gratitude in his eyes. The bracelet fit perfectly, resting comfortably against his skin, the cool metal and smooth stones a constant, reassuring presence. "I'll treasure it," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of contentment that came from knowing you had given him something truly meaningful. "I'm glad," you replied softly, your eyes meeting his.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze drifted through the window. There was a sense of peace in the air, a quiet understanding that didn't need words to be felt. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the evening, he knew that this — these simple, heartfelt moments with you — were what he would carry with him through the darkest nights, a light to guide him through whatever lay ahead.

[chimcess]

Unparalleled || jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other tags: Idol!Jungkook, Photographer!Reader Word Count: 6.6k+ Genre:  One-shot, established relationship, PWP, long distance relationship AU, smut Synopsis: You had only met him once, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and the fact that he was on the other side of the hotel door felt surreal. Or, after being in a long-distance relationship for over a year, you and Jungkook are finally meeting up. Warnings: This is literally just porn, there’s a plot but it’s just filth, soft-dom JK, he calls reader “baby,” oral (m&f), d*ck piercing, tatted jk, jk wears glasses (the entire time), dirty talk, desperate sex, couch sex, they barely made it inside tbh, protected sex (wrap it up babes), multiple positions, light begging, light body worship, light praise, some teasing, reader cums on his face, multiple orgasms, nipple play, nipple sucking, some nipple biting, hair pulling, aftercare cuddling, sweet ending, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I’m still getting used to writing smut, so I’m sorry if this is a bit awkward in some spots. Found this in my drafts, so I fixed it up a little bit and decided to post it. Thanks for reading.

Staring down at my fidgeting hands, I felt like the taxi was closing in on me, every tick of the clock amplifying the sense of claustrophobia. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, dragging by as if time itself were taunting me. I stole another glance at my phone, re-reading Jungkook's last message like it was some sort of magic spell. 

Kookie: 324

It was surreal to think he was right here in California, just a short drive away, no oceans or time zones separating us. My leg bounced nervously beneath the table, the excitement swirling in my stomach like butterflies in a frenzy. Each moment felt charged with anticipation, a thrilling energy that made my heart race. I quickly typed out a response, adding a heart emoji before sending my location. Jungkook always said sharing my location made him feel closer to me, bridging the gap between our worlds, even with his whirlwind schedule that rarely left room for anything else. Being one of the biggest pop stars had a way of pulling a guy in a million directions.

I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled our first meeting. It was right after the lockdown ended, during his band’s visit to California for a concert and the Grammys. I still vividly remembered standing by the snack table, nervously clutching a half-empty cup of soda, when our eyes met for the first time. There was an electric spark in that moment, something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. His grin was infectious, his playful nature shining through, and my heart had skipped a beat at the sound of his laughter. It echoed in my mind like a melody I wanted to play on repeat.

A few months later, we had entered a long-distance relationship, navigating the challenges of his demanding career while trying to keep our connection alive. Late-night video calls, flirty texts, and the occasional surprise visit were our lifelines, but nothing could compare to the rush of being together in the same room. And now, the thought of finally seeing him in person again sent a rush of warmth through me, a blend of hope and nervous energy that was hard to contain.

As I waited, I replayed our conversations in my mind—each one a thread weaving our lives together despite the distance. We shared dreams, fears, and whispered secrets, laying the groundwork for something beautiful and profound. The thought of being in his presence again, of feeling his warmth and the comfort of his touch, made my heart race with excitement.

I glanced at the clock again, biting my lip in anticipation. Each minute stretched into hours, the seconds crawling by. Would he still feel the same? Would our chemistry translate into real life as effortlessly as it did through screens and messages? Doubts flitted through my mind, but I shook them off, focusing on the joy of the moment. Jungkook was just a heartbeat away, and soon, I would be in his arms. The very idea sent a shiver down my spine.

My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I scrambled to open the notification, my heart racing. If Jungkook messaged, I had to respond quickly. Our conversations were a race against time, a way to squeeze moments of connection into his packed schedule. Phone calls were our only reliable lifeline, but the language barrier complicated things. We were both trying, though Jungkook's English was much better than my Korean.

Kookie: 나는 신나요

Giggling, I typed back a response.

Y/N: 나도

Kookie: Good job, 자기~

Nothing made Jungkook happier than seeing me try to improve my Korean. He always insisted it was adorable, his smile brightening every time I stumbled through a phrase. Yoongi was usually the more honest one, quick to point out my mispronunciations, but Jungkook wore that supportive boyfriend badge with pride, even if it meant telling me little white lies.

As the taxi pulled up to the hotel, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I thanked the driver, tipping generously as I stepped out into the warm night air. The moment I did, the fragrant scent of blooming jasmine wafted around me, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. I had only packed a small bag for our two-night stay, not knowing how much time we’d actually have together. Remembering that, I hurried up the steps, my footsteps echoing against the marble tiles.

The Sunset Hotel was unlike anything I’d imagined. I had envisioned a quiet, almost sleepy place, but instead, it was alive with activity. I couldn’t believe it was two in the morning; the lobby was bustling, a vibrant mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint notes of live music drifting from the bar area. The energy crackled in the air like electricity, and I felt an exhilarating rush. Yet, amidst the lively atmosphere, a wave of inadequacy washed over me. Just a few moments ago, in the taxi, I had almost forgotten about Jungkook’s status as one of the biggest pop stars in the world, but now, beneath the sparkling chandelier that cast shimmering patterns across the polished floor, it was impossible to ignore.

As I walked through the brightly lit lobby, I caught glimpses of elegantly dressed guests, their conversations animated, their laughter ringing out like musical notes. I felt like a fish out of water, dressed in a casual sundress while they flaunted designer attire. Who would have thought my years in the service industry—working late nights and juggling demanding customers—would lead me here, about to meet someone who could afford such luxury? The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

At the front desk, the staff shot me quick, assessing looks. Their eyes were sharp, as if measuring my worth in this lavish setting. One of the hosts greeted me with a forced smile that felt far too wide for comfort. “Welcome to the Sunset Hotel! How can I assist you tonight?” Their voice dripped with that practiced hospitality, but I could sense a subtle skepticism beneath the surface.

“Um, I’m here to check in,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I fished my phone out of my bag, ready to show them the reservation I’d made, but the host raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the computer screen as if evaluating my very presence.

“Name?” they asked, still wearing that unnaturally bright smile.

“Y/N,” I replied, and I held my breath as they typed it in. A brief moment of silence stretched between us, the bustling lobby fading into a distant murmur as I waited for their response. 

“Ah, yes! We have you right here,” they said finally, their tone shifting to one of mild surprise. “You’re the other half of 324, correct?” They looked at me again, and I could feel the weight of their judgment, as if I were a puzzle they were trying to fit into a larger picture.

“Right,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light. “Should just be for the weekend.” 

The host’s smile remained, but the glint in their eye suggested they were piecing together the details, perhaps even recognizing my connection to Jungkook. As they handed me the key card, I felt a rush of anxiety. What if they didn’t think I belonged here? What if Jungkook didn’t feel the same way about me once we were together?

I took the key, my fingers brushing against the cool surface, and turned to head toward the elevator. I was acutely aware of the looks I was receiving, a mix of curiosity and skepticism from both staff and guests alike. The air was thick with expectations, and I could almost hear the whispers in my mind, doubting whether I was truly worthy of this moment. But I pushed those thoughts aside. This was about Jungkook and me, our connection. And soon, I would be in his presence, feeling the warmth of his smile and the excitement of our reunion. 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind me like a protective barrier from the outside world. As the car ascended, I clutched my bag, heart racing with every passing floor. This was it. In just a few moments, I would be face-to-face with the boy who had ignited something within me, and no amount of uncertainty could overshadow that truth.

I shifted from foot to foot in the cramped elevator, the anticipation eating away at me like a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching my nerves thinner and thinner. I took out my phone, biting back a smile as I contemplated the moment. It was so surreal that I was just a few moments away from seeing Jungkook again after what felt like an eternity apart.

In a burst of excitement, I snapped a quick picture of the elevator doors opening, the sleek metallic finish reflecting the soft glow of the lobby lights. I sent it to Jungkook with a playful caption: *“Almost there!”* Watching the little blue ticks appear, I felt a rush of warmth, knowing he’d see it almost instantly.

Once inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the third floor with a mix of hope and trepidation. It only made sense that the 300s would be located on the third floor, right? Still, the absence of any signs directing me left me feeling a bit disoriented. The elevator hummed softly, its gentle movement barely easing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.

The walls felt a bit too close, almost as if they were closing in on me, but I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I replayed the memories of our conversations, the laughter we shared, and the longing I felt every time we parted. The excitement pulsing through me was intoxicating, a vivid contrast to the anxious tension coiling in my chest.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced down, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Jungkook's name flashing on the screen. 

Kookie: I’m going to kiss you so much.

I couldn’t help but smile. I hoped kissing would be just the beginning of what would happen tonight. After a year of building up tension, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him.

Y/N: 또?

Kookie: I can’t think of it in English.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. That was his way of avoiding a question. I knew he understood, but it amused me more than anything. Slowly, my nerves eased, and I felt more confident about seeing him, even if we were hiding away in a hotel I could never afford, lying on expensive sheets while the world outside spun with sharp eyes and curious gazes.

As the elevator dinged softly, signaling my arrival at the third floor, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a dimly lit hallway lined with plush carpeting and framed art pieces that whispered of elegance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I moved forward. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged atmosphere before a storm, and I could almost feel Jungkook’s presence drawing me closer.

I glanced at the room numbers, scanning for his. As I walked, I imagined what it would be like to finally be face-to-face with him. Would he look the same? Would that boyish grin still light up his face when he saw me? The thought sent my heart racing as I turned a corner, catching sight of the numbers I had been searching for. 

Room 324. My breath caught in my throat, and for a fleeting moment, I hesitated, overwhelmed by a wave of nerves. What if things were different now? What if he had changed? But I quickly shook off the doubts; this was Jungkook, the boy I had laughed and shared secrets with, the one who had kept my heart fluttering even from a distance.

With a firm resolve, I approached the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with my steps. I held my breath, the moment stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. Would he answer? Would he be excited to see me? I could hardly contain the anticipation, my heart racing as I waited for that door to swing open. The air crackled with anticipation, buzzing with the weight of what was about to happen. 

I raised my hand to knock, but before my knuckles could even touch the wood, the door swung open. And there he was—Jungkook.

He was everything I remembered: pitch-black hair tousled in a way that was both effortless and enticing, metal glinting in the light, thin, silver rimmed glasses, and a thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. It felt surreal, like stepping into a vivid dream, but this was no illusion. This was real, and it took my breath away.

"You," I whispered, the word slipping out like a gasp. 

His dark eyes widened in surprise, delight flickering across his features. My heart raced as I watched him take me in, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, more intimate. Had he been waiting for this moment as much as I had? Was he just as happy as I felt?

All my doubts faded when that eyebrow, heavy with steel, raised in appreciation instead of scorn. He stepped into the hallway, and my heart pounded wildly, the space between us charged with an unspoken promise.

"You," he echoed, his voice low and husky as he took my hand in his, guiding me back into his room. 

He kicked the door shut behind him. The air thickened as he moved closer, inches separating us, electric and intoxicating. I inhaled the scent of him—soap and laundry detergent—sending shivers down my spine. A soft whimper escaped my lips, desire pooling in my stomach like a spark waiting to ignite.

With an air of confidence, he advanced, and I leaned back, the weight of his presence drawing me in like gravity. I stopped when my back hit the couch, the world outside fading away as we paused, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. My fingers, betraying me, reached up to trace the row of piercings in his eyebrow, trailing down the line of his jaw to his lips. They were soft and rosy, a striking contrast to the rough stubble that scratched my palm.

In that moment, he darted his tongue out, the pointed tip brushing against my fingers, and I moaned softly, the sound echoing in the intimate space between us, igniting the fire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

And then he was on me.

He seized my hand, guiding it into the tousled mess of hair I had longed to touch. It was softer than I had imagined, and I lost myself in it. His mouth descended on mine, a fiery torrent of passion and urgency. My body responded instinctively, arching into him as our breaths mingled, his desire palpable against my stomach, the taste of longing lingering on his lips.

His palm traced a path down my arm, firm and possessive, sliding over my shoulder and back again. He tugged at the buttons of my cardigan, peeling the fabric away to reveal the inked skin beneath. I shivered at the roughness of his touch, a thrilling contrast to the softness of his kiss.

Breaking away, I pressed my mouth against the line of his jaw, trailing wet kisses toward the piercings in his ear, letting my tongue tease them as my breath washed hot against his skin.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He whispered against my lips.

I panted, my fingers tangling tightly in his hair.

His hands tightened around my arms, pulling us together, the weight of our bodies colliding in a desperate embrace. “Every single day,” he swore, his voice rough yet melodic. He began a slow, deliberate exploration of my neck, the heat of his tongue tracing my pulse and making me shudder. “Every night that you called me, whispering sweet nothings in that voice. It drove me insane. I just wanted to hop on a plane and have you in my lap.”

“God, I wish you would have,” I gasped, feeling the bite of his teeth just below my collarbone, a thrilling blend of pain and pleasure that made me clench around nothing. “Why didn’t you?”

“You make me nervous,” he murmured, teasing aside the cup of my bra.

He took my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the bud with reverence. I whined in pleasure, arching into him. Emboldened, he bit down.

“Self-conscious, huh?” I teased, winded and shaking from pleasure, even as my nails dug into his back, urging him closer. “I have a hard time believing that right now.”

He pulled back, capturing my face in his strong hands, kissing me fiercely as a low growl escaped him. “Believe it.”

We kissed with a fierce intensity that made me feel like I was on fire, the heat radiating off him, his glasses pressing against my face. He shifted to remove them, but I caught his wrists, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” I growled. “I like them.”

A primal sound erupted from his chest, desperate and raw. He lifted me effortlessly, settling me against the back of the couch, our bodies grinding together, my thighs aligning perfectly with the hard heat of his jeans. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure surging through me, my head falling back as I teetered on the brink of ecstasy, feeling weightless and electric, consumed by a desire that felt like it could set us both ablaze.

But he caught me. Just as I was about to tumble backward into dizzying, white-hot pleasure, his arms wrapped around me, firm and unyielding, pulling me against the solid expanse of his chest. My breath came in quick, frantic gasps, my heart racing like a wild animal as I clung to him, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

“Careful, pretty girl,” he breathed into my ear, a soft murmur that sent shivers racing down my spine. I grasped at his back, fingers digging into the taut muscles, anchoring myself to him, afraid of being swept away in the tide of desire threatening to pull me under.

My hands roamed from his back, gliding over his shoulders and down his arms as he stroked his fingertips along my thighs, mapping a path from my knees to my hips and back again. His skin was warm, electric under my touch, and I traced the intricate black curls of ink adorning his pale flesh—an abstract tapestry resolving into a lion on one arm and a lamb on the other.

“You’re beautiful,” I gasped, the words spilling out before I could stop them, but he silenced me with another heated kiss. 

My fingers fumbled at the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to see what those curls of ink transformed into beneath the fabric. He shifted me closer, his grip on me unwavering, even as his hands momentarily released me to lift his arms above his head. Seizing the opportunity, I tugged at his shirt, peeling it away to reveal the canvas of his torso, the intricate lines of ink telling stories I longed to hear.

I barely had time to take in the intricate Sanskrit lines etched along his side and the lone kanji character hovering over his heart before he was lifting my shirt, pulling it over my head. For a heartbeat, I was enveloped in darkness, blinded by the fabric. My hands scrambled behind me, fumbling to unclasp my bra, and he kissed a heated trail along the bare skin of my shoulder as the straps slipped down my arms.

“I love this,” he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing softly across my collarbone, down my ribs, and back to my breast, igniting every nerve in my body. “And I love it all the more because of this.”

His tongue brushed over the small butterfly tattoo on my ribcage.

His fingers roamed lower, and when he pulled away, I let out a whimper of protest, longing for his touch. The light-headed sensation returned, reminding me just how long it had been since a man had touched me—since I’d felt filled.

I braced myself with one hand against the edge of the couch while the other tangled in his tousled hair, relishing its softness as it slipped through my fingers. His mouth found my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, tracing a tantalizing line toward my most sensitive spot. I gasped, an overwhelming hunger igniting deep within me. I had been yearning for this, for him, and the desperate need flooded my senses.

With deft fingers, he teased apart the button of my fly and drew down the zipper, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He licked and sucked his way to my hip, his hand lingering on my abdomen, thumb skirting under the edge of my underwear before descending lower, finally finding bare, glistening skin. When his fingers grazed my clit, pleasure surged through me, and I nearly cried out at its raw intensity.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” he cursed, his voice rough with desire as he buried his face against the joint of my hip and thigh.

“For you,” I groaned, my body arching instinctively. “I’ve been wet for months just thinking about you.”

A low growl escaped him, and in a blur of motion, he tore the hem of my jeans down, ripping them from my body until I was left in nothing but my panties. He pushed my naked thighs up and over his shoulders, positioning his head exactly where I craved him to be.

I struggled to contain my frantic breaths, fast and shallow, echoing my absolute need to feel his hands, his mouth, to be consumed by him entirely. He inhaled deeply, reverently, his nose brushing against the lace where my body met my thigh. The sensation sent shockwaves through me, rendering me breathless.

He wrapped one hand around my leg while the other snaked behind me, gripping my ass firmly, anchoring me as he pulled the soaked fabric aside, exposing my bare skin to his hungry gaze. His thumb descended onto my clit, and I gasped, waves of need crashing over me as pleasure radiated from his touch. I cried out, the sound escaping me like a prayer, my body arching toward him, desperate for more.

And then he kissed me, his mouth capturing my clit with an intensity that sent me spiraling.

The moans clawing their way from my chest were unrecognizable, a desperate symphony of need as I became a writhing mass of pure, unadulterated hunger. Unlatching himself, his thumb worked expertly at my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. His tongue darted out, teasing the edges of my entrance before plunging inside, and I felt the pressure building, the storm that had been gathering finally reaching its peak until I exploded, my thighs clenching around his face as my body ignited into a searing inferno.

I teetered on the edge of ecstasy, and then I actually fell over, the world spiraling away.

When I regained awareness, I was sprawled across the back of the couch, my neck twisted awkwardly, the top of my head grazing the seat cushion. My arms draped limply above me while my thighs remained anchored to his shoulders. He gazed down at me, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction etched across his face, his mouth glistening—a testament to our fervor.

With a wicked smirk, he wiped his mouth with his forearm, leaving me in my awkward state as he peeled my panties down my body, rendering me completely exposed and unable to rise. His finger glided along my opening, my body still thrumming with aftershocks from one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced. When he dipped gently inside, I gasped.

“Is this what you want, Y/N? My hands inside you?” 

I found myself ensnared in a whirlwind of emotions; I craved this intimacy with him more than anything, yet it felt like just a fragment of the whole picture. The sensation of his fingers deep within me was intoxicating, but beneath that, there lingered a yearning for more—more than just his hands. I ached for him—his body hovering over mine, the heat radiating from him as I traced the ink etched across his skin, my tongue teasing the silver piercings that adorned him.

“Yes. No. God, I want you,” I gasped, my voice a mixture of longing and desperation.

He raised a pierced eyebrow, still kneeling before me, his fingers buried deep inside me. “Want your cock.”

“You want this dick?” he asked, his tone both teasing and serious.

“Yes,” I panted, the word slipping out as both a plea and a command.

“Where?” 

I knew exactly where I wanted him; the desire burned brightly within me. “Everywhere. My hand. My mouth. My pussy. Just… everywhere.” 

A low growl escaped him, reverberating through my body, raw and hungry. But just as quickly, his fingers slipped away, leaving me aching and empty. He gripped my hips, securing me against him and the back of the couch, rising to slide my slick core against the hard line of his body. The urgency of his arousal pressed against me, igniting a fire within. 

He leaned down, gathering me into his arms, kissing me with such fervor that I felt dizzy, his hardness grinding against me—a promise of what was to come.

I pushed him away gently, his expression shifting to one of confusion, but all I needed was a moment to slide off the couch and drop to my knees. He groaned as I ran my nose along the thick outline of him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in response to my teasing. With trembling hands, I tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing him—long, thick, and glistening with anticipation.

The chrome piercing at the tip caught the light, gleaming enticingly. 

Looking up, I found him hovering above me, his body bared save for those damn glasses. His intense gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea reflected in his brown eyes. “Y/N,” I breathed, letting my warm breath wash over the tip of him. He groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair, urging me forward.

“God, I want to feel your mouth on me,” he implored, igniting a wild hunger within me. 

I opened my mouth, eager and wet, my lips closing around the head of him, my tongue tracing the underside, the cool metal against warm flesh sending shivers down my spine. 

“Y/N.”

I pulled away before I could take him too deep, trailing my mouth down his length, savoring every moment as I buried my nose into the soft hair at the base of him. He was practically whimpering, and I couldn’t resist the urge to pump him twice with my hand, the slickness gliding over him before I took him into my mouth, relaxing my throat to envelop him. Yet even with all my efforts, I couldn’t fit him completely, and I rubbed my thighs together, craving the moment he would finally fill me.

I moved my mouth up and down his length, achingly slow, feeling the tension coiling within him, his hips twitching, restrained. He wanted to thrust, to take control, but I held him back, guiding his movements while keeping him still. I could sense his legs trembling, teetering on the edge, so I pulled off, leaving him panting, his length throbbing, a testament to our shared desire.

Kissing the sharp bone of his hip, I pulled his pants the rest of the way down as he kicked off his shoes, the fabric sliding away like a whisper in the night. Just as I was about to toss the jeans aside, he stopped me, his voice low and husky. “Back pocket.”

Curiosity piqued, I glanced up at him through narrowed eyes and retrieved the little foil package from his back pocket. I noticed at least two more tucked away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had remarkable recovery time or if he was planning a very long weekend with me. Both notions sent a thrilling rush coursing through me

I held the condom up between two of my fingers. Jungkook snatched the package from me, tearing it open with a deft motion, rolling it over his cock from tip to base. He pressed his sheathed length against my hip, our bodies brushing together with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Turn,” he commanded, gently pushing at my shoulder. I obeyed, and his hands shoved me down, bending me from the waist, positioning my elbows on the back of the couch. When he was satisfied with my submission, he settled his hands firmly on my shoulder blades, a searing presence that felt as though it might melt through my skin, branding me with his touch.

His hands glided down my sides, over my ribs and hips, finally settling on my ass, rubbing it appreciatively. The edges of his fingers grazed my lips, parting them, and I jerked backward, feeling the heat of his cock resting against my back.

“Wider, baby,” he cooed, his fingers sliding over my trembling thighs. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, and obeyed, spreading my legs for him. His knees bent between mine, the tip of his cock gliding tantalizingly from my clit to my entrance, brushing against me but not penetrating.

“Please, Jungkook,” I panted, desperation clawing at my throat as I felt myself teetering on the edge of begging.

Even he found himself pleading. “Please let me inside you,” he whispered, his length teasingly tracing my wet flesh, dipping slightly to part my lips but not filling the aching void within me.

“Yes,” I groaned, finally feeling the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, slipping into me inch by glorious inch. Nothing had ever felt this intense. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned, his grip hot and possessive at my hip while the other hand cradled the back of my neck, steadying me.

It was maddening not being able to move, even though all I wanted was to rock back and pull him deeper. 

My body stretched as he pushed forward, achingly slow until he was fully seated within me, his hips flush against my backside. I gasped as he filled me completely. The sensation was electrifying, and I felt him rock back slightly before surging forward again, the combination of his length and the hot tip of metal against my walls making my eyes roll.

“Please,” I urged, my mantra of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck me’ spiraling from my lips as he finally began to thrust with abandon, our bodies locked in a passionate dance. 

He tightened his grip on my hip, the other hand sliding to the middle of my back, pushing down. I could feel his movements becoming erratic, less steady—so close to coming inside me.

But I didn’t want it to end like this. Not after all this time. 

“No, stop,” I breathed, the words barely escaping my lips before he froze, a pained sound erupting from him like a wounded animal.

“Please, Jesus, Y/N, you can’t—”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, squeezing him tightly inside me. The resulting moan from his throat sent a jolt of electricity through my body. The rejection and frustration etched across his face twisted my heart. “After all this time missing you,” I whispered, locking eyes with him, “I need to see you. I need to see you come.”

In an instant, he withdrew, turning my body roughly until I felt the couch pressing against me once more. Supporting my back with one hand, he parted my thighs with fierce urgency, stepping into them and plunging back inside me. I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty corners of the room.

His face was close to mine as he began to move again, quick, short thrusts finding a new rhythm. Our sweaty brows collided, the metal hoops of his piercings scratching my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His name spilled from my lips as we captured each other in another fiery kiss, a moment so intense I thought I could lose myself entirely in the swirl of our bodies, his ink swirling around us like dark tendrils of smoke.

His patience began to fray as he kissed me harder, his body pressing into mine with more urgency. I felt the fiery bloom of pleasure building again, hot and electric, and I craved him hard and fast—a deep connection stripped of all restraint.

He must have sensed my need, too, as he quickened his pace. “Hold on, baby,” he instructed, and I complied, wrapping my arms and legs around him tightly. I let him brace himself against the back of the couch as he drove into me, his pubic bone hitting my clit with each thrust, the metal piercing hitting deep within me making me mewl.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Fuck,” he moans, the raw desperation in his voice igniting something primal within me. 

His face contorts in a beautiful, twisted expression of pleasure, each thrust deeper, harder, as if he’s trying to etch this moment into my very soul. The intensity of his words washes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me into a realm of oblivion. My body pulses in rhythm with his, a white-hot light flashing behind my closed eyes, merging with the vision of him—so fully present in my arms, lost in the sheer ecstasy we’ve created together.

As the world around us faded, time seemed to suspend, leaving only the two of us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. I could feel the weight of our shared moments pressing against us, every sensation amplified in the silence that enveloped the room. Slowly, we began to come back to ourselves, his body still pressed against mine, a gentle reminder of the electrifying connection we had just shared. The feeling of him lingering inside me sent shivers down my spine, and our breaths intertwined in a rhythm that was both calming and exhilarating.

We exchanged soft kisses, each one delicate and filled with unspoken promises, contrasting the raw passion that had ignited between us moments before. It was a tender kind of intimacy, one that held the power to ground us in a whirlwind of emotions. 

After a moment, he pulled away, slipping out of me with a reluctance that made my heart ache just a little. The sudden emptiness was palpable, a gentle reminder of the closeness we had just experienced. Jungkook reached for the condom, his movements careful and deliberate, disposing of it in the wastebasket beside the couch. When he turned back to me, the soft glow of the room caught the contours of his face, illuminating him in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

“I’m here,” I replied, unable to suppress the grin that broke across my face. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and this moment felt surreal.

Jungkook walked back over to the couch, his gaze roaming over my features as if he were trying to memorize every detail. “You look even better than I remembered,” he said, his smile soft and genuine, lighting up his eyes.

“And you look exhausted,” I teased, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and busy days.

He laughed, the sound brightening the room and melting away any remnants of anxiety I had carried with me. “It’s been a crazy week, but seeing you makes it all worth it.”

A smile broke across my face, the tension of the past months finally beginning to dissolve. For the first time since I had arrived, I took in my surroundings. The room felt both elegant and cozy, drenched in soft light, with tasteful decor that radiated warmth. A large bed dominated the space, its crisp white sheets looking impossibly inviting, and I found myself wishing we could make our way over there. It seemed far more comfortable than the couch.

“How was your flight?” Jungkook asked, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, sending warmth flooding through me.

“Long,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited.” The truth was, anticipation had been buzzing in my veins like electricity ever since I’d set foot on the plane.

He settled next to me on the couch, his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining in a way that felt instinctive. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his thumb tracing small patterns on my skin, making my heart flutter in response.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied, squeezing his hand tightly. “It feels like forever.”

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside like a constellation trapped within a glass jar. The reality of being here with him began to sink in, settling deep in my bones. No more video calls with choppy connections or hurried texts exchanged amid the chaos of our lives—just us, flesh and blood, finally in the same place.

Breaking the quiet, Jungkook’s tone turned serious, slicing through the warmth that enveloped us. “How are you holding up? I know it’s been tough.”

I took a deep breath, weighing my response. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, the truth heavy on my tongue. “But knowing we’d have this, even just a couple of days, kept me going.” 

He nodded, understanding etched on his face. “It’s the same for me. The craziness of the tour and the constant traveling—it’s all worth it knowing I get to see you.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night, soothing my weary soul. We talked for hours, drifting through a sea of conversation that felt both substantial and light, catching up on everything and nothing. His stories from the tour spilled out with infectious excitement, his eyes alight like fireflies in the dark. I shared my own experiences, and with every word, the distance between us began to melt away until it felt like the space of a single breath.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in like a gentle shadow, heavy yet comforting. Jungkook stood up and held out his hand, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Let’s move to the bed. It’s way more comfortable.”

I took his hand, allowing him to guide me across the room. The large bed loomed before us, inviting and cozy, the crisp white sheets beckoning like a sanctuary. As we settled into the plush comfort, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me, a feeling that we were finally exactly where we were meant to be. We lay side by side, fingers intertwined like threads in a tapestry, the world outside fading into a dull hum, the city’s chaos a distant memory.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[fraugwinska]

um hi! can I request an embarrassed Al with s/o who likes to kiss on him repeatedly? :))

Hey there Anon! I hope I got it right? =D I just needed a bit of fluff and sickly-sweetness! ❤️ Thank you for your suggestion!

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Pandoras Box

“You are looking grumpy today, my love.”

“I’m not grumpy. “

You and Alastor sat on the sofa next to the fireplace in the salon, a common occurrence that you had developed over the past few months. Whenever one of you had some time to spare, you'd find yourself on this very sofa, with the other magically appearing to keep you company. Sometimes your read together, sometimes you listened to music, most of the times you talked, about this and that, about light and heavy things, whatever came to mind. 

One fateful time, you had told him that you loved him. and a few other times later, Alastor had told you he loved you too. 

Everything could've been perfect if there wasn't the huge difference in need for physical affection. While you were a very touchy-feely person when it came to the people you liked (much less, loved), someone who loved to hug, kiss and cuddle - Alastor was reserved, to say the least. 

You understood, he came from another time, another culture, his tight-wound manners and gentlemanly behavior deeply ingrained in his personality. You loved him because of it, wanting to give him time to maybe someday get used to the idea, but sometimes the wait frustrated you - seeing Charlie and Vaggie lovingly hug each other every day on their way to the kitchen before breakfast, or Husk and Angel sneaking around the hotel (like no one would see them), making out in dark corners. You wanted to be respectful of his boundaries, but that didn't mean you weren't longing for more - or any - PDA. 

“The little wrinkle between your brows says otherwise, little doll.”

He looked up from his newspaper and rubbed the space between your brows with his long, slender fingers. You swatted them away and huffed. 

“I'm not grumpy. I'm…”, you searched for the right words, feeling Alastor's worried gaze on you. “...restless.”

He tilted his head in confusion, his smile more tense than usual. you knew him well enough to know he was worried. “And why's that, dear?”

You decided that the time has come where honesty was the best measure. 

“Because I want to kiss you.”

He stiffened, his fingers dug deep into the newspaper he held. You fiddled with the edges of a throw pillow - now pandoras box was opened, so you had to see it through. You lifted your eyes to look at him. His ears were folded back on his head, his smile seemed strained… and from under his collar, you could see the beginning of a flush. 

Oh. That was interesting. 

“Right now, here? That's a little... inappropriate, don't you think?”, Alastor said quietly, smile still tapered on but his eyes quickly scanning the empty foyer. 

“No one's here Al… besides, I just… Sometimes I just want to kiss you, or hug you, without care where we are or who might see it.” you say softly. “But I know you don't like that, so… I repress it.”

Alastor sighs, the redness creeping from his neck up to his jaw. 

“I suppose,”, he starts, voice slightly distorted - he's looking away from you, fixating on the double doors of the entrance, “since we are indeed alone, I could allow… “

Before he could even end the sentence, you darted forward, taking the vague opening he gave you, and pressed your lips on his. 

Different than the kisses you shared in the 'secrecy' of your bedroom, this kiss felt daring, exciting and oh-so-sweet. You could taste the way Alastor was flustered by your sudden brazeness, although he reciprocated. Hesitantly at first, but when you sighed into his lips he visibly and audibly relaxed, his hand tenderly weaving into your hair, scraping your scalp and pulling you closer. 

You broke the kiss, radiating happiness, it must've shown on your face because Alastor chuckled quietly, cheeks now as flushed as his neck. 

“My, that wasn't half as bad as I thought it… “

Another kiss cut him off again, like an addict you moved onto him, straddling him while you couldn't stop yourself, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his temples, searching for any spots that haven't been covered by your lips. 

Alastor had no chance in stopping you, mumbling things like “Enough dear!”, “Silly girl, you!”, even coming as far as “Give you an inch and you take a mile!” while you attacked him with feverish pecks. 

With a last, soft and long kiss on his lips, you slid your arms around his waist and let yourself rest on his chest, giggling content into his lapels. 

“Are you satisfied now, little vixxen?”

You nodded happily, still tightly pressed into him. 

“Good.”, he mused, wrapping his arms around you. 

“And you.” his voice fell an octave, and you lifted your head to see Angel, Husk and Niffty standing not too far at the end of the foyer, visibly shaking with - in order - suppressed laughter, horrification and morbid curiosity, “will cease that memory from existence if you value functioning organs.”

You couldn't help but laugh and kiss his nose as he sent death glares to the retreating demons, his ears flicking and cheeks still painted in the sweetest shade of red. 

[dekariosclan]

NSFW Gale Headcanons (18+)

Some (soft and sexy) thoughts about being loved by the Wizard of Waterdeep…

Gale doesn’t “dabble” in things. He has no interest in being a Jack of All Trades. No, Gale wants to master things. He wants to be the best at things: Magic, the Weave, Wizardly knowledge, etc. For him, true joy isn’t in trying something different, but in becoming an expert in his favorite subject. And guess what? His new (and permanent!) favorite subject is YOU.

Gale, while waxing poetic, has often compared himself to a book: “I require only your gentle hands to turn my pages.” And this is true of how he thinks of you, as well. You are his most treasured Tome, one that he intends to study thoroughly again and again, delighting at finding new passages that he may have overlooked, or finding new meaning in a sentence he’s read a thousand times before. And like a beloved novel written by a favorite author, he will never grow tired of reading you.

But he wants more than to just understand you. He wants to know how to captivate you, the way that you’ve captivated him, body and soul. He loves you more than anyone, and he wants to show you, in more ways than just words and professions of love will allow.

He wants to know exactly how to pull you into an embrace and where to place his lips on your neck to make you shiver. What words to whisper into your ear to make your knees go weak. He wants to know what secret fantasies you have, no matter how outlandish they may seem, because aren’t you clever? You’ve gone and made a wizard fall in love with you, and nothing is impossible for a man who can craft illusions with his hands—nevermind what he can do with his tongue.

And Gale wants to indulge you. He wants to please you, because he will never grow tired of seeing the endless depths of love and adoration in your eyes when you look at him. Something he never saw, no matter how hard he looked, or how long he looked, into Mystra’s eyes.

One important note: Gale is a monogamous lover. He is not a boring lover.

He wants to know how to make you cum the fastest. How to make you cum the hardest. He wants to make you scream his name so loudly that the Gods can hear it. He loves to taste you, after a grueling trek, after a cleansing bath, in the night or in the morning. He’s made it his personal mission to worship your body in every way possible.

Gale will run his fingers (and lips) gently over your scars. He doesn’t find them to be imperfections. They are key chapters in the story of you, and all the more precious because they make you real. A real human with real flaws, just like him.

Lingerie will be met with an appreciative rumble from Gale, (he always enjoys discussing what’s on your hind—ah, MIND…) but he honestly finds you gorgeous in all states: Dirty or clean. In or out of your armor. Naked or clothed.

He rather likes it when you tease him, especially on the battlefield, when his eyes are already drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The way you position yourself a certain way to allow him to see a hint of your naked thigh under your armor is always…appreciated.

But if you really want to drive him wild? Buy him a book detailing some new positions for lovemaking that you think he would be interested in (and that you haven’t tried yet) then watch as his eyes roll back in his head with pure lust. And if it’s a first edition copy? He might actually pass out as all the blood leaves his head for…another part of his body.

After you both have worn yourselves out reenacting the positions described, and often (at your insistence) more than once, he’ll lie awake thinking about how much he adores you until you both drift off to sleep.

And then…at other times…

…he’ll lie awake and stare up into the cosmos, his arm around you as you sleep with your head on his chest, and he’ll think of how he once dreamed of becoming a God. And how it was you, and the thought of losing you, that stopped his foolishness, and allowed him to rewrite his story. To prevent it from becoming a tragedy.

Then he’ll press a kiss into your hair, softly, so as not to wake you, and thank all the Gods above that he’s not one of them.

He couldn’t imagine how unbearable eternity would have been, if it meant he couldn’t have you.

[babyblue711]

Surrender

Aegon II Targaryen (Modern AU) x Reader Summary: Helaena invites you to the Targaryen countryside estate for a relaxing weekend away from the city where you form an unexpected connection with her older brother, Aegon. Words: 4.2K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Aemond being uptight A/N: I just want to give a quick shout out to the authors who have the amazing ability to write well thought out, smutty one-shots and somehow magically keep it under 3K words. YOU ALL are incredibly talented and I wish I could do the same. The smut alone is over half this fic. I tried to keep it short, y'all, I really did. Anyway, this is my first time writing for Aegon. As I said in a previous post, this story is incredibly self indulgent but thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy! 🔥 Update 7/9/24: Welcome new readers! Please don't be shy and feel free to leave me a comment! I'm still around Tumblr, just taking a break from writing at the moment but love reading your comments and thoughts about the fic! xoxo 💙 Beta read by the wonderful: @myfandomprompts

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warm water pours over your head and down your back as you rinse the shampoo out of your long hair; the fragrance of your favorite soap washing away the remnants of the day’s activities. Yet, within the confines of your mind, memories unfold like scenes from a movie.

Each moment is vivid and alive; seeing him atop his grey gelding as he waits for you to mount his brother’s tall, dark bay mare; your knees almost touching with his as your horses walk side by side down the winding trail. 

You recall the admiration in his smile as he looks over at you, observing the way you sway with your horse’s long stride with ease; your mutual love for horseback riding came as a surprise to you both. The brief ride had come to a halt all too soon, as ominous storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Just a mile away from the barn, you jointly decided to turn for home. 

You can still feel the wind in your hair as you and Aegon galloped back to the barn, trying to outrace the storm as thunder clapped in the distance. Laughter spilled from your lips at the thrill of the speed of your horse and your worries seemed to melt away with each leaping stride. It had been years since you had felt so light and carefree.

Luckily, you had arrived back at the barn just as the rain began to fall, giving your horse a grateful pat while reluctantly handing him off to the attending groom; Aegon seemed exhilarated from the ride as well as the two of you began to exchange lighthearted banter about your spontaneous adventure. Among your group, only you had embraced the opportunity to ride with him, given it was your favorite childhood pastime that you rarely got to enjoy as an adult. Everyone else had decided to retire to the house to get ready for dinner. 

Amused, you watched as he bends to pet the barn cat weaving between his legs, wondering why you had never seen this side of him before. Because he is your best friend’s older brother, a small voice answered in the back of your mind. When you first met Helaena at uni, your perception of Aegon was clouded by his reputation for being frequently drunk, arrogant, and unpredictable, and you assumed that was all there was to him. However, after spending the weekend with the Targaryen siblings at their countryside estate, you began to wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. 

Standing together in the doorway of the barn, easy conversation continued as you waited out the storm and you couldn’t help but feel impressed by Aegon's charm and clever banter, more so than you'd like to admit. The rain intensified, accompanied by a cool breeze which caused you to shiver slightly. He moved closer as if to shield you from the cool air, thunder clapping overhead. Heat radiated off his skin, giving you goosebumps as an electric charge zings through the atmosphere and you’re unsure if it's caused by the lightning or his sudden proximity. Your eyes flicked up to his face.

“Cold?” Aegon had said, his full lips curling into a perfect one-sided smirk. You locked eyes with him for a heartbeat too long and suddenly you’re melting into his dark blue gaze.

Flashing back to the present, you feel a blush bloom on your cheeks as you remember what had happened next. Still in the middle of your shower routine, you close your eyes and his face materializes in front of you again. With perfect clarity, you recall his damp blonde hair tousled by the wind, his sun-kissed skin, his warm, soft lips.  

The kiss that had transpired was completely unexpected, but had felt so absolutely right in the moment. It was tender and slow and sweet. You remembered the gentle way his hand cupped your face when he pulled away, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. Your heart pounded in your chest and words eluded you in that moment, lost in the whirlwind of emotions stirred by his kiss.

The rest of the evening had passed in a blur, the storm blowing over just as quickly as it began. Dinner with the Targaryens was always an interesting affair because their personalities were so entirely opposite of one another. The youngest sibling, Daeron, had obviously decided to take a leaf out of Aegon’s book and had already plowed through several beers by the time you walked back up to the house. Helaena immediately took you to the side to show you a picture of a ladybug she had drawn while you had been out riding, and Aemond brooded silently in the corner with a book. 

Meanwhile, you and Aegon seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to mention anything to the others which suited you just fine. The kiss had been too unexpected, too private, just meant for the two of you. His siblings did not need to know about any of his extracurricular activities, especially when it involved their sister’s best friend. 

Unbidden, butterflies had formed in your stomach for the rest of the evening and you could hardly eat. What was wrong with you? This sort of reaction was something you would expect of a silly school girl and you had to remind yourself that you were a grown ass woman and could do as you please without catching feelings. Your last relationship had ended poorly and you were still trying to recover from it. The drama, the heartbreak, the endless cycles of disappointment—it was exhausting. Before today, guys like Aegon were the exact reason you had sworn off dating and relationships, choosing to fiercely embrace your freedom and independence instead. 

Yet here you sat, unable to stop thinking about the perfect shape of Aegon’s lips. When had he changed so much? Or had he been this way all along and you just hadn’t noticed? Gone was his arrogance and, in its place, a seemingly gentle and caring soul. It was the first time in a long while that you felt a genuine connection with the opposite sex. His kiss had reminded you of the excitement of a new fling, the rush of emotions, and the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, of feeling desirable. 

Wary of these feelings, you decided to prioritize your own well-being and enjoy the moment for what it was—a fleeting spark of connection—and you wouldn't let it consume you or lead you down a path you weren't ready for.

Except, you hadn’t anticipated that Aegon wouldn’t be on the same page as you. Although both of you were resolutely acting like nothing happened, subtlety, he offered to clear your plate from the dinner table and then brought you another beer unasked, surprising you with his sudden thoughtfulness. You secretly hope his attentiveness goes unnoticed by the rest of his family. 

Luckily, Daeron is immersed in his own world of revelry, acting as if he’s in competition with himself to drink the most beer, or perhaps aiming to match Aegon’s former partying ways. Helaena, more adept at picking up social cues, pretended not to notice, but Aemond’s intense stare tells you all you needed to know of his suspicions as his eyes flicked back and forth between you two. 

At last, you excused yourself for the evening to shower and go to bed, desperate to find some peace with your inner turmoil by getting away from the group and from him. 

Now, drying your hair with a towel, you finally feel relaxed from the chance to clear your head. Dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and shorts, you emerge from your bathroom and survey the opulent bedroom, grateful for securing one of the best rooms in this expansive house. Your balcony doors are open to let in the warm summer breeze, cooled slightly from the earlier rain. Enticed by the twinkling of the stars that you never get to see in the city, you step outside onto the balcony and gaze up at the night sky, oblivious to someone approaching you from behind. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” His deep voice sends your heart into your throat as you jump and whirl to face him.

“Aegon!” you exclaim, with a mixture of annoyance and relief. “You have to stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” he asks with a wolfish grin and you roll your eyes at his feigned innocence. 

“Surprising me unexpectedly,” you almost growl in response and his grin grows wider as he gives a nonchalant shrug. 

“Oh, I think you like surprises,” he says easily, coming to lean on the railing next to you and observing the sky. 

You roll your eyes again and choose not to comment as you look out onto the dark grounds, suddenly conscious that you aren’t wearing a bra and the air is cool. Quickly crossing your arms over your chest, you contemplate what to say to him for a moment and opt to cut to the chase. 

“What do you want, Aegon?” you say with a sigh, trying to act as if you truly didn't care. His response is immediate and direct, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"You," he purrs, his deep blue eyes seem to pierce you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. There’s a darkness in his stare, a hunger, a need, a longing. Tension crackles like lightning in the air.  

Your heart jolts with delight at his words, just as conflicting thoughts invade your mind. Your breakup was still relatively fresh and you weren’t fooled by what he meant by “you”. Is that something you were ready for? 

Instantly, your doubt is questioned by an opposing voice in your head that counters with, “But you have needs too, as much as you keep denying yourself. If you wanted to have a one night stand then, why not? He was familiar at least. You deserve to have some fun. When was the last time you had sex?” 

Mentally, you think you’ve made a good argument with yourself, until the rational side of your brain reminds you delicately of your choice to swear off men and be happy to live a life free of their soul-sucking ways, remembering the toll your ex had taken on you mentally, emotionally and physically over the years. 

But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore, the opposing voice reasons irresistibly in your other ear. You hold the power. You know your worth. 

This quick mental battle between your righteous consciousness and lustful desires happens in an instant, but Aegon looks like he knows exactly what internal struggle you are having as he steps closer to you, crowding your space without asking permission, tilting your chin up with his forefinger, the glow of the moon casting a soft light on his face. 

“Let me remind you of what you’re missing,” he whispers seductively against your lips, reading you perfectly. He begins the kiss gently, his lips exploring yours before deepening the connection with his tongue. Taking a fistful of your damp hair at the back of your neck, he holds you in place against him as he continues to kiss you passionately. You're enveloped in his taste, his scent, his presence; the musky fragrance of his shampoo only serves to heighten your desire for him.

After a few moments, you feel yourself melt into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you push your chest into his, nipples hard underneath your t-shirt. All rational thought is wiped clean from your mind as you make your decision.

Breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him back inside to stand next to your high, ornate bed. Not one to waste time, lest you change your mind, you grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling it over his head as yours follows suit. His dark gaze drinks in the sight of your bare breasts and he moves towards you as if in a trance, dipping his head to clamp his lips on your collarbone. You move your neck to the side and hum low in your throat as your hands explore the muscles of his broad back.

Within a few moments, you feel him tugging at your shorts, his touch deft and confident as he loosens the drawstrings. They fall to the ground, leaving you only in your thin, silk panties. His large hands slide down your hips and over your ass, and suddenly, he picks you up and throws you effortlessly onto the bed.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Aegon is on top of you again, his body pressing against yours with a delicious weight. You feel his hunger, his desire, as he devours you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for more. Every touch, every kiss, every caress, sends electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your veins. His touch intoxicates you, numbing your mind better than any drug ever could. When was the last time someone had made you feel this good? 

An ache starts to form between your legs and you rock your hips upwards, against Aegon’s erect length through his shorts. He hums while kissing his way down your body, suckling at your breasts, skimming your ribs with his teeth, biting your hip bones as he journeys downward, devouring your curves as he goes. At last, his face rests between your legs where he gently kisses the insides of your thighs. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers fervently as he hooks his fingers into the waistline of your panties. You lift your hips and he removes your underwear, finally bearing you to him completely. 

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs as he gazes at your sex, slick with desire for him. You start to feel self conscious at the hungry way he is looking at you, closing your knees to his line of sight. His eyes flick back up to your face, now dark pools of lust as he removes his own shorts and comes to lay naked next to you on the bed. You glance down at his cock before his lips take hold of yours again and your breath catches in your chest once more. My god, you think, was it a trick of the dim light or is he really that big? 

The thought is quickly swept from your mind as he continues kissing you for several minutes, kneading your breasts and rubbing your sides and hips and you decidedly become more impatient than him, a desperate ache between your legs and you reach for his length but he grabs your wrist firmly to stop you, smiling lightly.

“You first,” he whispers and pushes you back onto the bed so that you rest on your back; his hand trails down your stomach and runs along your inner thigh. Your breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, anticipating what's next. 

Feeling like you burst into flames from all the sexual tension, touch me already! resonates loudly inside your head. Finally, his fingertips brush over your slick folds and he gives a low moan of appreciation. You mewl pathetically and arch your back, needing more friction as he expertly rubs circles around your bud. 

“More, Aegon, please,” you aren’t even embarrassed to be begging so early on. He chuckles lightly in response and blessedly acquiesces as he slips a finger inside you, quickly followed by another. He pumps his fingers in and out for a moment and returns to kissing you deeply. Pleasure begins to overload your brain until nothing is left but him. The smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the stretch of your pussy as his fingers move deep inside you, so much thicker than yours, reaching so much deeper than you ever could yourself. 

With his palm set on your bud, fingers buried deep, he sets a steady rhythm, stroking that sweet spot inside you while his face is buried into your neck. You grip the back of his hair and close your eyes, gasping as pleasure builds deep from within. It doesn’t take long until your breathing picks up as the coil tightens inside, causing you to pant and lose whatever dignity remained to you as you start to mumble incoherent nonsense, willing Aegon not to stop his pace as the pleasure mounts. 

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Aegon moans into your ear and your climax crashes over you in one enormous wave as you soar to ecstasy. You clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your wail of pleasure, just in case anyone else in the house could hear you cumming loudly. Aegon grunts from beside you as your pussy clamps down onto his fingers and you think you hear him whisper “fucking hell” very softly, but you are too lost in mindnumbing bliss to pay attention. He continues his rhythm as the waves crash over you and doesn’t stop until you have to push his hand away, on the brink of overstimulation. You lay panting next to him, trying to catch your breath, realizing it has been years since the last time a man has made you cum so hard. 

Aegon rolls onto his back and begins to stroke his length, covering himself in your slick as he waits for you to regain control of your senses. Recovering slightly, you glance down and realize you didn’t just imagine it, he really was impressively large, bigger than any of your exes. You prop yourself onto your side next to him and boldly take him in hand, causing him to smirk. As if you were drunk from the ecstasy of your peak, you can’t stop the words that tumble from your lips. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” you practically slur at him and his cheshire cat grin widens.

“I think I may have heard that before,” he quips, sounding amused, while running his nose along your jawline, his breath hot against the skin of your neck, “But don’t worry, it’ll fit.” A slight moment of panic flutters in your heart, you were no virgin but you certainly had never handled that before. 

Aegon rolls on top and you cringe inwardly, not from worry about his size but rather remembering this was your ex's favorite position because it gave him a sense of power over you. Dark memories interrupt your excitement as they flash like lightning through your mind. But that worthless fool had never made you cum as hard as Aegon just had; he normally hadn’t worried if you came at all. With an enormous effort, you push the intrusive thoughts out of your mind and focus on the present moment.

Mentally, you completely let go and surrender to Aegon... it felt so good for once. To let someone else take the lead, to let go of control, to not have to think, to not have to do anything but allow him to consume you. 

You spread your legs and welcome him eagerly as his hips come to rest lightly on yours. You squirm underneath him as your nails rake along his back and down over his ass, causing him to shudder slightly as he continues to kiss along your jawline to your earlobe.

“Aegon, I’m on birth control,” you whisper in his ear as you rub your slick folds along the length of his hard, thick cock. 

“Hmm, good,” he hums into your mouth as he grinds back against you, “Because I wanna see your pussy overflow with my cum,” he inserts his tongue into your mouth for emphasis, swallowing your heady moans. 

You lift your hips as you feel Aegon guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, unable to stop your gasp as he pushes slowly inside. The intense stretch wipes everything from your mind and if you were being honest with yourself, it feels like the first time all over again, albeit more exciting now. Holy shit…holy fucking shit! is all you can think as he slides in slowly and you wonder if not having sex for a long time makes you a born-again virgin. 

Aegon, to his credit, doesn’t thrust roughly into you, rocking gently instead, getting a little deeper with each stroke as you attempt to breathe through your nose and will yourself to relax and open up for him. At last, he bottoms out inside of you and you’ve never felt so full before in your life. He rolls his hips into yours and you moan at the sensation as his thick cock dragging along your soft velvet walls. You pant and mewl underneath him, hands wrapping around his biceps that have your head caged in. After a few slow strokes, you find yourself adjusting to his size and you can’t help but beg for more.

“More, Aegon, please - harder,” you whine. 

“Impatient, are we?” he teases and picks up the pace but only a little and you know he’s savoring the moment. He pulls himself almost all of the way out before sliding back in with long, slow, deep strokes. Your hips start to rise to meet his own, willing him to go faster. On the next stroke his hips snap into yours, causing you to gasp at the pleasure that courses through your slick pussy, sending electric currents through your chest as he starts to earnestly fuck you into the bed. 

Unable to control the uninterrupted moans of pleasure, you cover your mouth again, thankful, at least, that the heavy framework of the bed is sturdy and does not make so much as a squeak despite his deep thrusts. He frowns down at you, roughly removing your hand from your mouth in displeasure, squeezing your wrist harshly, but the pain only enhances your pleasure. 

“Stop doing that. I want to hear you scream,” he says gruffly through puffs of his own heavy breathing. 

Suddenly, he pulls out and leans back on his heels, flipping you over and bringing your ass in the air. He re-enters you and grabs your hair, holding your head back as he roughly thrusts into you from behind. You're breathless at the unexpected change in position but moan lustfully as he slaps your ass hard with a large hand, releasing his grip on your hair to take hold of your hips, pistoning even faster. The sound of skin slapping together erotically fills the room as pleasure coils deep in your belly. 

“That’s it, babygirl, taking my cock so well,” he growls as his hands squeeze your ass cheeks so hard you think you’ll have bruises. 

You whine noisily at his praise while reaching your hand down to play with your bud, knowing you can cum again in this position with a little extra friction. Aegon can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock as your breathing picks up again, another climax approaching quickly. He grunts and pants as he nears his own release.

As your walls spasm around him, you cry out again, your orgasm ripping through your core, clenching down on his thick length. He groans as he rides out your peak for as long as he can, thrusting harshly into you one last time as he pours himself deep within. You can feel his thick cock pulsate inside you, milked by your clenching pussy, and find that you love the thought of him filling you with his spend. 

As he withdraws, he pulls your ass cheeks apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, enjoying the sight of his cum leaking from your cunt. At last, you collapse onto the bed, utterly spent but entirely well-fucked, perhaps the most satiated you had ever been in your whole life. 

You lay, breathing heavily, trying to regain your strength, when strong arms come to cradle you as Aegon scoops you up and lays you gently back on the bed in a more dignified position, pulling the covers up and over you.

He slips into bed beside you and snuggles close. In comfortable silence, you both savor the intimate connection, skin to skin, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and the steady beat of your heart. Nestled securely in his embrace, your eyelids begin to droop, and just as you teeter on the edge of sleep, a gentle kiss brushes across your forehead.

Daylight filters through the balcony's glass doors, gently rousing you from sleep. It takes a moment for the vivid memories of last night to flood your mind. You find yourself still unclothed under the sheets, yet the bed is empty beside you. Letting out a soft groan, you stretch your sore muscles, contemplating how you were going to face Aegon that day. Are you both going to continue to pretend like nothing happened?

Automatically, you reach for your phone on the nightstand and see there’s a text, not from Aegon but from Aemond. Confusion swirls in your mind as you tap it open. 

[Aemond]: Look. My bedroom is right next to yours. Could you keep it down next time?

You could practically feel his irritation and you blush, mortified. Fuck, had you really been that loud? You knew the answer to that was a resounding “yes” because you hated being quiet, but you had really hoped the expansive house would have muffled some of the noise. Shit.

Feeling guilty, you start to type back an apology but then decide sex is nothing to be ashamed of and you were going to have fun teasing rigid, proper Aemond. 

[Y/N]: Join us next time, then? 😉

>>>> Part 2

A/N: It was the HOTD trailer that pushed me over the edge for Aegon, but y'all can thank these photos from TGC's IG for the inspiration for this story.

[muddyorbsblr]

curiosities

See my full list of works here!

Requested by: Anonymous | view request here

Summary: Loki's interrogation tactics left you curious about his powers, and he's more than happy to give you a little demonstration while you worked on your reports.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning/s: 18+ | slightly smutty (think limes not lemons…but still, minors & pearl clutchers leave right now); thigh riding; hand necklaces; naughty use of Loki's powers; semi-public [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

Dick-tionary: nothing explicit but proceed with caution starting from "Quiet, darling"

"Darling? Are you alright?"

The sound of Loki's voice broke through the hazy thoughts you'd found yourself lost in for the last few minutes, making you realize that your fingers hovered over the keyboard for so long that your computer screen went on Standby. And the text fields of your interrogation report remained blank.

"Sorry what?" you mumbled, realizing too late that the reason you lost yourself in your thoughts in the first place was from recalling the events of the interrogation from earlier. Specifically the way your lover's voice and overall aura darkened as he threatened a variant of reminding them specifically what kind of person he was on the once Sacred Timeline.

Of showing them a sampling of the terrible awful things that he could do, especially now given that the magic barrier had been switched off. You had only the slightest whispers of an idea, given what you'd read from his file and the files of multiple variants of him.

Shadow casting. Duplication casting. An entire pocket dimension filled with who knows what. And then there was the telepathy. The telekinesis. The illusion projection. The mind control.

Which powers did your Loki have, you wondered. And which ones would he utilize in the name of those terrible, awful things?

And why did the prospect of him using those powers on you stir something in you that currently had you struggling not to squirm in your seat from the arousal?

"You look as if you keep drifting off, darling. Are you feeling alright?" Loki reached out to cup the side of your face in his large hand, the contact hitting him with a barrage of the thoughts that had been swimming through your mind since the interrogation. "Oh…" he rasped, moving his hand to weave his fingers through your hair. "I see now what has stolen your ability to focus on this…simple tedious task."

"Hmmm?" you replied absently, soft whimpers escaping you once the god leaned in and started pressing kisses from your temple down to your neck. This wasn't helping your wandering thoughts in the slightest. And then he wrapped his arm around you, lifting you up from your seat and maneuvering you to straddle his thigh. "Loki," you whined, a sharp gasp escaping you when he nipped at the spot between your neck and shoulder.

"Quiet, darling," he told you in a low teasing tone. "You wish to know which powers I possess? I'm more than happy to give you a little demonstration." He brought a hand up to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly at the sides. "I've cast an illusion wherein our colleagues are none the wiser to our…current predicament. All they see is us, sitting side by side, your lover patiently waiting for you to finish your report."

He flexed the muscles of his thigh, the motion causing a delicious friction between your legs. You let out the start of a moan before his fingers tightened around your neck for a fraction of a second.

"Much as I would adore to hear those beautifully filthy sounds from you, my love, I'm going to have to implore you stay silent. See, if you make any noise that could draw people's attention to us, the illusion breaks. And we'll be disciplined." With a wave of his hand, your jacket disappeared and reappeared neatly folded on the table in front of you. He kissed at your now exposed arm. "Can you breathe alright?"

Butterflies fluttered violently at your stomach at the question, choosing to nod instead of voicing your answer.

"Good girl." A rush of arousal pooled between your thighs at his words. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from making a sound when he nipped at your skin. Another wave of his hand and you suddenly felt cool wispy tendrils grasping at your waist and moving you to grind on your boyfriend's thigh. "I must admit, dear Y/N, I rather enjoy finding these more…pleasurable uses of my abilities. Especially with how deliciously responsive your exquisite form is under my touch." He kissed his way up to your ear. "I look forward to using them all with you. Perhaps later tonight, in our home."

The tendrils held you tighter, pressing you down harder against his thigh before proceeding to undulate your hips. The increased friction, along with how he was kissing and nipping away at your earlobe, had you letting out a strangled moan before his hold tightened on you again, your head swimming from the pressure.

"What did I say about breaking the illusion, my darling?" he growled, the gravel in his voice making you even wetter. "Do you wish to give every soul in this library a show of how desperate and wanton I can make you? Is that it?" He flexed his thigh again the same time that the wispy tendons ground your hips harder against it, a barely muted whimper coming out of you before you bit down hard on your lip and shook your head. "Then stay quiet, sweet mortal. Lest you wish for me to find something within my pocket dimension to stuff that beautiful mouth of yours with."

You did what you could to look down at what was moving you, your mouth forming in an 'O' when you saw that it was his shadows. You let out the tiniest whimper of his name, the pressure on the side of your neck lessening when he stroked at your skin with his thumb.

"I'm going to lift this illusion and then you shall finish your report so that I may bring you home and we can move on to a more…thorough demonstration," he rasped, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "With a little help from a few friends of mine." A flash of Loki's green magic from the corner of your eye caught your attention, his shadows grinding you down even harder on his thigh once you caught sight of two duplicates of him waving and smirking at you. One was wearing that ruffled tuxedo that on paper looked unremarkable on the average man.

But Loki was no average man. He was a god. Your god.

And the other duplicate was dressed exactly as such. With the gold horns and the black and green leather, his usual obsidian curls straightened and slicked back with a menacing look in his eyes as his gaze roamed your body.

The feel of his thigh flexing against your slit had you bringing back your attention to the Loki that held you in place. Your Loki. The real one.

"But first, I want you to soak my thigh."

A/N: Anon, whoever you are, I hope you're having the absolute best day because getting this in my asks had me staring at the ceiling and immediately typing down a lil note in my writing schedule to make this 🫠 Hopefully I did your thot justice

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

In Vino Veritas (In Wine, There is Truth) - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav (Sorceress/Magic User)

Warnings: FLUFF (the sickeningly sweet kind). Angst. Insecure/Jealous!Astarion. Drunk!Astarion. Soft/Clingy!Astarion. Astarion is in his feelings. Love Confessions. BG3 Spoilers (Early Act I). Mutual Pining. Oblivious!Tav. Honestly kind of Sub!Astarion vibes. Not Proofread!

Wordcount: 2,589

Summary: After seeing you bonding with the other companions, Astarion is in deep with his emotions. This leads to him staggering off to a bar in a nearby town, and you go looking for him as you are worried about him. Once you find him, a confession of love spills from his lips unprompted.

A/N: Can vampires even get drunk? I’m not entirely sure, but that’s what this is about. This wasn’t a request, just something I was interested in writing. I haven’t written Astarion in this way before, but I think I like how it turned out. Thank you guys for all the love on my Astarion fics! I appreciate it immensely. Also, two posts in one day is kind of insane for me. Enjoy!

You weren’t always confident in yourself or your abilities. However, your recent adventures with Lae’zel, Astarion, and Gale have boosted your self-esteem. Gale had even approached you one night rambling about the “weave” and how he wanted you to experience it. You were able to conjure it with favorable ease, however you backed away once he had come onto you. Astarion stood in disgust as he watched the scene unravel. Gale was clearly attracted to you, and clearly wanted in your pants at one point or another. Astarion wouldn’t mind being in your pants either, at one point or another.

Secretly, Astarion envied your naivety, your ability to be fairly oblivious to many people’s advances. Heck, you didn’t even notice Gale’s constant passing glances until he was quite literally leaning in to kiss you, impressed by your ability to conjure the weave with little effort. You turned away nearly instantly, at least once you realized.

You were fairly friendly, which led a lot of suitors to believe that you were interested in them. Gale was no different. The wizard felt that you showed great potential, and he was impressed by your magical abilities. Initially, you believed this to be friendly behavior from Gale, but alas, he felt more for you than that. You had a difficult time turning him down, as you did with most. Gale wasn’t a bad guy, he just – wasn’t for you. Astarion had to spend some time alone after watching you and Gale bond. He felt a pain in his chest while watching the scene.

He was glad to find out that you had rejected Gale, which Gale had let him know (unprompted, of course) one night while out by the fire. Gale was working on his magic, Astarion was reading, and you were sleeping dreadfully well after the long day.

Soon after, you, Lae’zel, Astarion and Gale met Wyll on the way to the grove. You had a battle with the goblins and gained a new ally in Wyll. Unfortunately, Astarion had placed himself right in the midst of the conflict, leading him to take quite the beating. So, when Wyll offered to join the party, you felt it was obvious to have Wyll take his place. Lae’zel and Gale were in moderately good shape afterwards. “Fine,” Astarion spoke merely one word, then turned around in a dejected manner, slumping his way away from the group. When he glanced back, he saw Wyll laughing at something you had said, which caused the pain in his chest to worsen.

Astarion had to walk through a nearby town in order to get back to camp, which is where the mistakes began. He spotted a tavern, which looked acceptable – albeit rundown in comparison to the ones he frequented in Baldur’s Gate. The thought of alcohol to tame his present emotions didn’t seem so terrible. I mean, was he really that replaceable to you? If you were honest, the only reason you sent him away was because of how damaged he looked after battle. Part of you wanted to go with him, or at least offer, but he had walked away too quickly for you to even respond. You probably should have gone after him, instead you turned to your new companion in order to get acquainted.

Your mistake was recognized after you got back to camp last night – because where the hell was Astarion? All of his belongings were still around, but he was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t bathing, but perhaps he could be hunting? It seemed fairly abnormal for him to just wander off. It was getting fairly late and Astarion still hadn’t arrived back at camp. You were getting worried.

“Has anyone seen Astarion?” You asked everyone who was still awake. The group shook their heads. You kept telling yourself that he probably just was out hunting. Yet something didn’t feel right.

“I’m worried about him, guys. I sent him back to camp and he’s nowhere to be found.” You commented, with Shadowheart being the first to respond. “It’s Astarion, Tav. It’s not like he’s known to be the most reliable, even in the few days we’ve known him.” Her fondness for you was shining through, and her almost envious tone showed her distain for your anxious thoughts about the pale elf companion.

You decided to backtrack on the path away from camp, the one that Astarion would have taken back, trying to retrace his steps. You hoped that he hadn’t collapsed somewhere, that was absolutely your worst fear. You couldn’t help but worry at the thought of losing Astarion. He had already been through so much - that you were incredibly aware of.

You wandered the dim, moonlit trail, hoping that you would find a sign of him anywhere. You peered through the forest trees, but with little avail. You thought about shouting out to him but thought better of it. You could attract someone – or something, rather, that you’d prefer not to. You decided to keep as quiet as you could.

You crept towards the nearby town. Given that the afternoon had far past, the only open facility was the tavern. It was old, but well-kept given its state. The building itself was made from stone, with a large oak wooden door at its front. It vibrated with livelihood from the activities of indoors. This tavern was likely the sole place in town where folks could go to have a decent time. Through the windows, you spotted various ages and races of people, all joined together in dancing, drinking, chatting, and even singing. You didn’t see Astarion, but you figured that asking surely wouldn’t hurt. Maybe they knew of his whereabouts.

The door creaked open as you entered, revealing the brightly candlelit interior of the tavern. The wood floors were certainly run down, likely from years of wear and tear and dancing upon them. Many eyes fell upon you when you entered. Your footsteps were light, but your presence was different for the townsfolk. You were new. Astarion had felt similarly when he moved into space, but they had become used to his presence by now. Not only that, but he had spent copious amounts of gold on drinks, which was certainly appreciated. You didn’t know that though, not yet.

The townsfolk had accepted your presence within a few moments of entering, with one muttering to another “she’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” before gulping down more beer, then standing up to make a move on you. You were quite oblivious to this situation, moving steadily towards the barkeep, hoping she might be able to tell you of Astarion’s whereabouts, as you moved through the bar and still didn’t take notice of the elf.

“Eh, darlin!” You heard a man grunt at you, but you didn’t want to acknowledge him. The words almost hit your ears in just the right way, the eerie similarity to Astarion’s word choice was uncanny.

As you approached the bar, the barmaid approached you sweetly. She was an older lady with deep raven hair, likely had worked there for a substantial portion of time, perhaps even being the owner of the place. “Hi, dear. What can I get goin’ for you?” She inquired with a courteous smile. “Nothing quite yet for me. I’m looking for my friend, he’s an elf with white hair, he probably would have passed by here several hours ago.”

“Aw! You must be Tav! He wouldn’t stop rambling about you while he was here. I think he slumped over to the bathroom, we tried to sober him up, but he was lookin’ pretty sick.” The barkeep gestured to the doors in the corner, and you nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be back.”

You pushed your way through the patrons in order to place several knocks on the only closed door. “Astarion?” You raised your voice to ensure that he heard you over the music that boasted in the background. You leaned your head against the door, hoping to hear a response from him. You nearly fell as suddenly the door was replaced with air, and a stumbling Astarion approached you. “Darling!” He exclaimed. This new, puppy-like energy contrasted with his always stoic exterior. You went to scold him, about to go off about his selfishness in abandoning camp like that, but before you could, his rambling continued.

“Goodness, you look phenomenal. I can hardly take it.” You looked at him, creases forming on your face as your mind became more puzzled. Astarion was typically a flirty person, but this was different. For some reason, it seemed – sincere?

“Astarion, what are you doing here?”

“Well I got sad, so I decided to have a few – um – drinks.” His words slurred as they exited his lips, which did not promote truth in his sentence. “A few?” He nodded eagerly in response, and you grabbed at the fabric near his shoulder in order to tug him over to the bar. “Do you know how many drinks he’s had?” You asked the barmaid, hoping she could provide some insight. “In the double digits, certainly. Spent most of his time downing drinks and talking about your ‘delectability.’”

She responded as you took a deep breath. Astarion, who was lent up against your shoulder now, and could hardly maintain composure, brought an index finger to usher the woman quiet, pressing it against her lips. “SHHHH.” He spoke loudly, before she removed his finger in a swift motion. Astarion leant towards your ear, whispering “she’s just talking about how it’s more noticeable that I’m in love with you when I’m tipsy.” Your eyes shot open for the first time in hours. You had maintained heavy lids since post battle; however you hadn’t heard anything this shocking in weeks. You couldn’t help the way that your cheeks now sprouted a flushed, pink hue.

“You somehow get even cuter when you blush.” Astarion spoke, and you placed your head in your hands, which Astarion immediately tried to pull away “don’t, please, you’re so pretty.” You almost rolled your eyes, what if this was all some strange dream? Don’t get you wrong, there were many nights that you dreamt of the day that Astarion would approach you in this way, you just – didn’t think it would happen. You finally released your face from your hands and looked at the barmaid. “We’ll be leaving now, thank you.” You grabbed on to Astarion once more, tugging him towards the large oak door at the entrance.

“Someone’s in trouble!” One of the men shouted from across the bar at the scene. “I hope so!” Astarion shouted back, and you tugged him harder.

As the overwhelm was diluted by the calm of the outdoors, and your faces were hit by the cool air, you turned to face him.

“Astarion, what the hells is going on?” Your question was slightly louder than intended, especially since you had to raise your voice to be heard inside of the bar.

Immediately, you were faced with a pout on Astarion’s lips and dilated pupils as he gazed at you. “Please don’t be mad, darling.”

“I just want to know if you’re okay.” You responded, your features softening, which comforted him.

“I just-“ he stammered, having a difficult time finding the words. He looked back to you, seeing how patient you were, and he relaxed, with help from the alcohol that still coursed steadily through him. “you’re perfect.” For the second time tonight, your eyes widened like craters. You were nearly at a loss for words, but as you went to speak, Astarion interrupted you.

“Gods, Tav! Gale is entranced by you, Shadowheart has definitely caught feelings, Lae’zel wants you to give her bruises, and did you see the way that Wyll looked at you today?” He inquired, and you meagerly shook your head. “Not to mention I’m fucking in love with you! And I can’t even show it! I haven’t felt this way, like, ever, with anyone! And I’m fucking terrified, Tav!”

He gesticulated harshly as he spoke, his pent-up energy finally releasing. You moved towards him, holding your arms out, almost as an offering to him. He looked at you with soft eyes, then headed towards you himself, wrapping his arms around your waist, as yours fell across his shoulders. He relaxed into your touch, leaning his face to nuzzle in your neck. “Please don’t let me go.” Astarion pleaded.

“I won’t, Star.” You whispered into his ear, and you could feel him sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry I was jealous and upset.”

“Don’t be sorry for feeling the way you do, Astarion.” These words nearly brought a drunken Astarion to tears, but he was able to focus on the way you felt in his arms instead. You were able to convince him to cease the hug in order to walk back to camp, but he insisted that he needed to have a hand on you at all times to be assured that “you wouldn’t let him go.” So, it ended up with his hand intertwined with yours for the duration of the short journey back, along with him leaning on you to keep steady.

The rest of the companions were awaiting your return to camp and sighed in relief when you arrived. They were slightly surprised to see Astarion lent up against you, with your frame keeping him upright. Shadowheart seemed to roll her eyes in annoyance at the pale elf’s return, but was thankful you were alright, nonetheless. They stayed quiet, as it seemed more like an “ask questions later” type of circumstance. Since they now knew you were safe, they deemed it acceptable to retreat to their own tents for the night.

You teetered Astarion over to his own tent, facing him as he stared at you with puppy dog eyes. “You’ll stay?” He asked, and you looked at him with similar eyes. “Please?” He followed up, and you nodded. “Let’s go to my tent, though. Is that alright?”

“As long as I’m with you.”

You lead Astarion to your – somewhat more put together tent, with a larger bedroll that could fit the both of you situated on the floor. He stared in awe as he admired the colors within, it was actually quite cozy.

You put yourself in bed as normal, while Astarion seemed to stand with a blank look on his face, his eyes traveling from your eyes to the tent, as if this was new to him. “You okay, Astarion?” You asked, and he nodded. “More than okay, actually.” He responded, and you smiled. You reached your arms out, beckoning him towards you “come here, then, sweet boy.” He grinned giddily, nearly diving into your arms.

-

Astarion woke up in the somewhat unfamiliar environment of your tent, with a throbbing headache. However, he realized that he was sprawled across your lap, and decided to be content in the fact that even though he didn’t remember a single thing about last night, he knew that he had wound up in the right place, in the right person’s arms.

You noticed he had woken from the fluttering of his eyelashes on your skin, and you brought your hand to his hair in order to play with it ever so slightly. “Good morning, handsome” you spoke.

“Good morning, darling. What in the hells happened last night?” He responded, turning towards you with a smirk on his face. “Did I get as lucky as I hope I did?” Sober Astarion was back, that was for certain.

[moonselune]

Hi, would you consider writing about some of the guys (Gale, Halsin, Wyll, maybe Rolan?) reacting to their partner/tav telling them they're pregnant?

oooooo I like this a lot

Gale

The cozy warmth of your home library wrapped around you as you approached Gale, who was immersed in the glow of an arcane tome. He looked up from the pages, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"Gale, dearest" you begin, trying to steady your voice. "There's something I need to tell you."

Concern flashed in his eyes, and he closed the book, giving you his full attention. "What is it, my love?"

You took a deep breath, placing his hand gently on your abdomen. "I'm pregnant."

For a heartbeat, Gale simply stared at you, his face a mix of shock and dawning realization. Then, an elated smile spread across his face. "Truly?" he asked, his voice brimming with joy.

"Truly," you confirmed, smiling back at him.

Gale pulled you into a tight embrace, his happiness radiating from him. "By the gods' grace, this is wonderful news!" He released you and began pacing excitedly, his mind clearly racing. "I have been ready for this since the day I met you. I know exactly what spells will help them sleep, which bedtime stories will ignite their imagination… Oh, and we must start their magical education early!"

You blinked, astounded by his readiness. "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"Of course," he said, grinning. "I have so much to share with our child. Imagine teaching them about the Weave, guiding them through their first incantations, and watching them discover the wonders of magic. Oh it's going to be extraordinary!"

Gale's excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "You already sound like the perfect father."

He pulled you into another embrace, his voice softening with emotion. "And you, my love, will be the most incredible mother."

Astarion:

The night was quiet as you approached Astarion, who was lounging by the fire in your underdark estate, a book in hand. He looked up, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as you sat beside him.

"Astarion," you began, your heart pounding, you could tell that he could tell that something was wrong but ever the charmer, he let you speak, "I have something important to tell you."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He snapped his book shut and looked at you gleefully "Oh? What might that be?"

Taking his hand, you placed it on your stomach and looked him in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Astarion just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "You must be joking."

"I'm not joking," you said firmly, your eyes locked on his.The disbelief slowly melted from his face, replaced by a look of bliss and panic.

"You're serious," he whispered. "We're going to have a child?"

"Yes," you said, "We are having a baby, my love.... is that okay?"

"Is that okay?"Astarion's eyes sparkled with joy, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "This is incredible!, my darling We're going to have a miniature me running around! Oh how delightful."

His excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "That's what you're excited about?"

"Of course!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Just think of it – a little one with my charm, my wit, and of course, my good looks."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with happiness. "You are incorrigible, Astarion."

"And you love me for it," he teased, kissing you softly, you felt yourself melt into it, relief and love poured into it. He then slowly pulled away, "But truly, this is rather excellent news I could have... have ever received." Aatarion, rested his forehead against yours, and you can see his eyes begin to water." We will have a family, all ours, and I will make sure they have everything they need."

Your heart melted at his words, and you hugged him tightly. "I know you will, Astarion, my love. We'll make sure they have a wonderful life."

Wyll

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden as you approached Wyll, who was sparring with a practice dummy. You tried to tell him that the practice dummy did not compliment your peonies and roses but he argued otherwise. His movements were fluid and precise, but he stopped immediately when he saw you approaching with a radiant smile on your face.

"Wyll," you called out, trying to keep your excitement in check. "Can we talk for a moment?"

He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow, giving you his undivided attention. "Of course, my heart. What’s on your mind?"

"Well, it's not so much on my mind rather than on me.." You murmured before taking a deep breath in. "I'm pregnant."

For a second, Wyll stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock, and you panicked, was this too soon? Was he not ready? But then, a brilliant smile broke across his face, and he let out a joyous laugh. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Yes, I am," you confirmed, your own smile growing wider as you rested your hands on your stomach. "The healers confirmed it this morning."

Without warning, Wyll swept you up into his arms and spun you around, his laughter ringing through the air. Your skirt billowed in the morning sun and you wished you could hold onto this moment forever.

"This is the best news I've ever heard!" he exclaimed, setting you down gently but keeping his arms around you. "We’re going to be parents!"

He kissed you deeply, joyfully and when he finally pulled back, he was beaming. You laughed, cupping his cheek, relishing in the delight of it all.

"I can't wait to tell everyone," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "We're going to be parent! Parents!" Wyll then turned away from you and cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling into the sky. "We are going to be parents! I'm going to be a father!"

"Slow down, Wyll," you laughed, your own heart swelling with happiness as you walked over to him, pulling on his arm.. "We should probably tell the others, first, - and gently! No shouting.."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, but you could see he was barely able to contain himself, oh he was so going to shout. "Oh, my father – he will be so thrilled! I am so thrilled! I am going to be a father!"

Wyll's joy was infectious and you both immediately set off to share the wonderful news, by the end of the day Wyll had completely lost his voice, though that did not stop him from holding up a piece of parchment that declared he was going to be a father.

Halsin:

You found Halsin in his study, the warm glow of candlelight illuminating his broad frame as he poured over ancient texts. His healing skills often had him delving into herbal remedies and nature’s secrets, but tonight, you had something far more personal to share.

"Halsin," you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. "My heart, what brings you here at this hour?"

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your hands resting on your belly. "I have some news. I'm pregnant."

A warm smile spread across Halsin's face, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost... knowing. "Pregnant, you say? That's wonderful news!"

You narrowed your eyes playfully, placing your hands on your hips, you pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You already knew, didn't you?"

Halsin chuckled, reaching out to pull you into his lap, you allowed it but included some mock resistance. Halsin pressed a tedded kiss to your neck.

"I might have had my suspicions," he admitted, his large calloused hand coming to rest on your stomach. "As a healer, certain signs are hard to miss. That and the fact you keep stealing my honeycomb when you think I am not looking, and the constant throwing up and nausea and the-"

"-Okay! Okay, I should have realised sooner, I get it." You playfully scolded him, tapping his chest. "But you didn't think to tell me sooner?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement and affection. "I wanted you to discover it in your own time, to have that moment of joy for yourself." He now kissed your forehead tenderly. "And now that you know, we can share in this happiness together."

You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was looking at you with such love and admiration. "I suppose I can forgive you," you said with a mock sigh, resting your head against his broad chest.

Halsin's hand gently caressed your stomach, his touch filled with reverence. "You will be a wonderful mother," he whispered, his voice filled with certainty. "Our child will be blessed to have you."

"And they will be blessed to have you as their father," you replied softly. Halsin's embrace tightened around you, his love and warmth enveloping you completely.

"We will raise this child together, with all the love and care they deserve."

As you nestled in his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and joy. The future seemed bright and full of promise, with Halsin by your side.

Rolan:

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Sorcerous Sundries as you found Rolan sorting through a stack of spellbooks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but he looked up and smiled when he saw you approaching.

"Hey, what brings you here?" Rolan asked, setting the books aside and giving you his full attention. "Isn't there trouble you should be getting yourself into so your darling lover can come and save you?"

"For once, trouble found me- well us, and it's all my darling lover's fault." You smiled nervously and crossed your arms.

His smile faltered slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. "What is it? What did I do?"

You uncrossed your arms and reached out and took his hands in yours, looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Rolan just stared at you, his face going pale. "Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice shaky. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, squeezing his hands gently. "Yes, I'm sure."

Panic flashed across his face, and he started to pull away, running his hands through his hair. "But… how? I mean, I know how, but… are we ready for this? What if I'm not a good father? What if I mess everything up?"

You stepped closer, taking his hands again and holding them firmly. "Rolan, listen to me. You will be an excellent father. You are kind, compassionate, and intelligent. Our child will be lucky to have you as their father."

He looked at you, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "But what if I can't do it? What if I don't know how to be a father?"

You smiled reassuringly, cupping his face in your hands. "We'll learn together. We have each other, and we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this."

Rolan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You're right. I can do this. We can do this."

You kissed him softly, feeling the tension in his body begin to ease. "Yes, we can. And we'll be a wonderful family."

Rolan finally smiled, though it was still tinged with a bit of nervousness. "I guess I should start reading up on parenting then, huh?"

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yes, but we have plenty of time. Right now, let's just focus on us."

Rolan nodded, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Thank you for believing in me," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, holding him tightly. "And I can't wait to start this journey with you."

I can picture Rolan just freaking tf out, bless him. Hope you all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[cower-before-power]

Holy, Holy, Lover Divine

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!

In this moment, you feel divine.

The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.

But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.

“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.

“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”

Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”

Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.

She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.

“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”

Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.

You vow you will not squander it.

“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.

“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”

He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.

“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”

He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.

“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.

“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."

A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“

But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.

It never fails to set you on fire.

“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."

Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.

And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.

“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."

"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.

"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.

"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."

You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.

"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”

And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.

And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.

You are divine.

[djarincore]

Down by the River

summary: Gale accidentally finds you bathing in the river.

pairings: Gale x reader

word count: 1k

tags: suggestive themes, nudity, fluff

a/n: am I a weirdo for loving the trope where someone finds a beautiful maiden bathing in a river and is entranced by the rivulets of water tracing down the curve of her spine??? I dunno....

Wyll's version

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All Gale wanted was a refreshing bath. Gods, he missed his warm baths in his tower back in Waterdeep where he would have a good book in one hand and another cradling a fine glass of wine. 

Alas, such luxuries could not be afforded on the road with mind flayer parasites burrowed in his skull. 

When he found the slow, winding river, he halted upon hearing a low melodic hum. He would have thought it were harpies again with their hypnotic melody if not for his own eyes. 

There—back turned to him, just toeing the edge of the river, completely bare—was you.

The full moon washed your body in a soft, ethereal light, reminding him of the intimate magic lesson you shared. The way the Weave shrouded you in a soft glow. He recalled how bright your eyes looked as magic danced around you for the first time. The soft caress of hands as they met and lingered at your sides. How you imagined kissing him before the magic fell away all too soon. 

Your toes grazed the crystal shore, rippling the gentle current, to test the water's temperature—cold, from the way your body tensed and a soft gasp disrupted your soothing hum. 

Gale could not move—could not breathe—as heat swam through his body and rose to his cheeks. Your hums continued as you slipped into the water slowly, completely unaware of his presence so far. 

It was wrong of him to be here, watching you in a quiet moment of peace and completely vulnerable. He would not break your trust, not when he already found himself holding you so close to his heart. 

Unfortunately for Gale, his departure was not as silent as his arrival. A cursed stick snapped beneath his feet when he backed away. 

The noise alerted you, who snapped around and attempted to cover yourself with your hands. Your arms pressed tightly against your breast and your legs were positioned sideways to cover your lower half. 

“Who's there?!” You demanded, voice quivering. Your eyes scanned the forest to find a figure attempting to slip into the bushes. But, you recognized those purple robes. “Gale?”

“My apologies,” he called back, sheepishly, raising his hands in surrender. The blush on his cheeks grew hotter now that he was caught. This was dangerous territory for a man who had a sensitive bomb in his chest. “I-I promise you, I didn't mean to find you here.”

Your gaze fell away to the water at your feet. “You came to bathe?”

“Yes! Though I'm sure I can find a suitable spot elsewhere. It's a long river, after all. Though I’m certain I won't find any more beautiful nymphs there,” he rambled. He didn't know how to stop.

Your eyes were wide when you looked at him again, a shy smile pulling at the edge of your lips. 

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the sky. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

He turned, prepared to leave and berate himself for making a fool of himself, but stopped when he heard you call after him.

“Wait, Gale! Y-You don't need to leave.” You sounded as nervous as he felt. “Stay.” 

How could he ever ignore one of your requests?

Shedding his clothes seemed like a blur and suddenly he was just as bare as you, standing at the edge of the river. 

You had turned away as he stripped and sunk deeper into the river, chest deep now, busying yourself with washing up. Your hand ran along your opposite arm and up your shoulder. 

Gale watched, mesmerized by the curves that your hand danced along. You were beautiful, enchantingly so—a true goddess to behold. 

He slipped into the chilling waters, a safe distance away from you. He hoped you weren't uncomfortable. You hadn't looked at him since you asked him to stay. The two of you bathed in silence, backs turned to one another. 

After a while, you said, “I never thanked you for that magic lesson. It was wonderful.”

Pride burned through his body as he smiled. “You had an excellent teacher, after all. But, you were a wonderful student too.”

He dared to turn his head, just to look at you from the corner of his eyes. You were already facing him. There was always kindness and compassion in your eyes that never failed to draw him closer to you. The way you looked at him—he felt seen. It was almost too much sometimes.  

His eyes followed the slow rivulets of water that slid down your neck and further down your chest. 

“I was… glad to share a moment of magic with you,” he confessed when his eyes returned to yours.  

“I hope that lesson wasn't the last.”

“Of course not! I’d be more than happy to show you more illusory magic. We can start with a simple spell I learned when I was young. Tara taught it to me in fact.” 

Gale failed to notice you inching closer as he went on about what he would show you next—he was getting lost in his own words. He only slowed to a stop when your hand lightly brushed against his underwater. His fingers tensed before relaxing and allowing your fingers to drift along his knuckles. 

You uttered his name softly and he couldn’t help the hitch in his throat. “I hope we get more than just a moment.”  

Before he could respond, you leaned forward and kissed him. Your lips pressed against his, slow and careful, but it was over before there was time to properly savor the feeling. You pulled back, your hand still resting on his. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I should have asked before doing that. Are you okay?”

Gale nodded, feeling all sense slowly coming back. For the first time in more than a year, he felt wanted. “More than okay.”

There was a hunger growing in his chest, he realized, but it didn't yearn for magic.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: im not entirely happy w this but i might revisit it one day :)

[mumms-the-word]

Gale's Netherese Orb

The Condition and Symptoms

You asked for it! You're getting it! Yet another deep dive, this time about Gale's orb functioning as a chronic impairment/disability and the ways that a cure is dangled in front of him and even withheld from him.

Disclaimer: a lot of this has already been discussed by lore-wizards like galedekarios or mezzziah and some information is going to come from actual-lea's wild playthrough of the Gale Origin where they didn't give him any magic items just to see what would happen (which I recreated quickly in my own game to gather screenshots and gifs of my own). I'm not going to tag any of them because I don't want to bother them, but if you want even more lore, you can and should check them out!

We're going to look at Gale's orb "condition" in three phases: the effects of the orb on Gale's body itself, the ways that he has to treat it, and the potential cure for the orb. Because my deep dives always get a little out of hand, I’m splitting this into 3 posts. So you can take and leave whatever you like, but I'll link the masterlist to all 3 parts here once I have them posted!

But without further ado, let's deep dive!

I've said before that Baldur's Gate 3 is ultimately a game about cure—finding a cure for ceremorphosis, specifically. Every companion is facing a (potentially lethal) forced transformation into a squid creature in seven days or less unless they find a cure. At least, that's what they think before they realize that their tadpoles are special. On top of that, several characters, including Gale, especially Gale, are also dealing with additional chronic conditions that they wish to cure.

Let's set aside the search for the tadpole cure for a minute and focus on Gale—his character arc, his goals, even the text for his questline. The moment that Gale steps out of his pod on the nautiloid, he has a twofold goal: find a way to cure or treat the hungering orb in his chest and find a way to cure or stop ceremorphosis, in part because turning into a mind flayer may destabilize the orb, thus making the orb the bigger or more significant problem for Gale personally.

In other words, on two fronts, Gale's entire plot is concerned about curing a chronic, potentially lethal condition (or two), but the orb is the bigger issue between the two. Turning into a mind flayer is one thing, turning into a cataclysmic explosion that could "level a city the size of Waterdeep" is another.

The Wizard of Waterdeep Objectives - Escape the nautiloid I was an archmage - powerful, proud, full of potential - until my failed attempt to impress my lover, the goddess Mystra, left me with a volatile 'orb' of Netherese-corrupted Weave in my chest. Keeping it stable is difficult at the best of times...and these are far from the best of times. I've been abducted by mind flayers, infected with one of their tadpoles. So far the orb appears unaffected, but I can't count on that for long. I need to get back to Faerûnian soil before it begins to hunger.

Despite being infected by illithid tadpoles, Gale's larger concern is that staying in the hells will make feeding the orb difficult. When he gets off the nautiloid, he's worried that turning into a mind flayer will completely destabilize the orb. It's his primary concern and will continue to be so throughout the game.

Narrator: Despite your recent fall from the nautiloid, you are miraculously unharmed. Apart from the volatile orb of Netherese magic buried within your chest, of course. It stirs softly. Soon it will hunger, and when that time comes it must be fed. Starve it, and you risk triggering a cataclysmic explosion of raw, unfettered Weave. Such an explosion will be unavoidable, if the tadpole in your skull triggers ceremorphosis. An outcome definitely best avoided.

So, yeah, the squid thing is a problem, but Gale is definitely more concerned about exploding. But exploding and "hungering" aren’t the only things the orb does to his body.

I’m going to break down the actual condition into three smaller segments: the words Gale uses to talk about his condition, the physical effects that Gale describes happening to him, and the mechanical gameplay effects. I’ll talk more about the actual “hunger” of the orb in part 2 when I talk about its treatment, in part because the hunger and the treatment are both magical effects and are intrinsically linked. But for now, let's start with a look at how Gale talks about the orb.

Call it a Condition

To start off, Gale describes having the orb in his chest along the same lines that people might discuss chronic impairments or chronic illness. It's not a minor "issue" or a "problem" that is disconnected from Gale's body and physical/mental health; instead, he calls it a "condition," a "malady," and even a "chronic impairment." He couches the condition in terms that evoke illness and unwellness.

Gale: You see, I have this...condition. Very different from the parasites we share, but just as deadly. Player: What kind of condition? Gale: The specifics are rather personal, but suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort. Player: (Durge) You also feel disgust by how life, miserable as it is, insists of persisting in this most wretched world? / (Tav) Is it contagious? Gale: No, no - nothing like that. Though if I fail to treat it then the consequences would not be contained to me alone. Player: Can it be cured? Gale: No, it cannot be cured. And I assure you I've left no page unturned in reaching that conclusion. I can keep this condition under control, as indeed I've done for a significant amount of time, but that was under different circumstances altogether. Home, in Waterdeep. What it comes down to is this: every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside.

Player (Ranger): I think I might have a dock leaf in my bag, or some medicinal berries... Gale: Thank you for the offer, but the treatment for my condition is very specific.

Gale: The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence.

In Gale's first conversation with the player about the orb, which is where all of the above comes from, he uses language related to illness and chronic pain/impairment to discuss the orb. It's a "condition," it is a "malady" that requires "treatment," it is a "chronic impairment," and so on.

Generally, at first, he speaks lightly about it and even continues to joke about his condition ("my tower in Waterdeep has never been so free of clutter" and so on), but the reality is he's underplaying the actual physical toll it takes on his body. When you ask him what happens if he doesn't consume any artifacts, he'll briefly describe some symptoms to you that aren't obvious to the player character. Which brings us to...

The Physical Symptoms

This is how he describes the initial physical symptoms of the orb's hunger:

Gale: I'll spare you the finer details, but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left for too long...catastrophe.

In other places, we see the orb's hunger/pain also affecting his ability to think clearly, suggesting he's experiencing a kind of brain fog or concentration issue, plus general discomfort, and a feeling like something is gnawing at his insides, as seen in various lines below.

Gale: You'll have to speak slowly. I'm finding it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten. Gale: Somehow the second artefact hasn't had the effect of the first. It's somewhat relieved the discomfort, but I fear my hunger hasn't quite... Ahh...* Gale: But... this doesn't feel quite right... It never feels right, but it relieves. This doesn't relieve... Ahh...* *devnote: Near the end of the line he's in discomfort, in pain

This is all from the second artifact conversation, when you give him the second item to try and feed the orb's hunger (the last line is a lower approval/you've-been-begrudging-about-items kind of line, so he's still being closed off with you). When you hear these lines in the game, he's obviously speaking with discomfort and with difficulty, as if trying to string words together despite the pain. His little comments as you travel with him/as him while he is dealing with arcane hunger also reference weakness, pain, and concentration issues.

- I'm feeling rather unsteady... - Deep breaths, Gale. Hold it together. - I'd be rather enjoying this journey, were I not wracked with pain. - One step in front of the other, Gale. - Ugh, I feel rotten. devnote: Slightly pained/struggling with a constant ache (the orb is negatively affecting him, causing him pain. Prompt is to remind the player that Gale is unwell.) [mumm's note: there are other lines as well, beyond these, and Gale will say them at random, so there's no progression into better or worse. This is just a sample of the lines.]

Given everything so far, I suspect the pain he feels is a combination of heart/chest pain, like one might feel during an anxiety attack, a POTS flare-up, or even a heart attack, while the gnawing sensation could be like hunger cramps (or any other internal cramping, though I think for Gale it feels higher up in his body than in his stomach, given the orb's location).

I highly suspect the orb is feeding off of not only his magic, but his body as well. We know it feeds off his magic specifically (more on this in the other two parts, especially because this detail doesn't come to light until Gale meets with Mystra). But given the pains and the way he frames his condition as a state of deterioration, it's likely that it's also feeding off energy stores and other biological/physical elements of his body, not unlike how extreme hunger can cause your body to essentially eat itself—your fat stores first, but eventually even your muscle tissues and other vital tissues.

(I've seen someone suggest this is why Gale has "dehydration state" chiseled abs like movie stars have because the orb is literally eating away at his fat/energy stores and so on. It's a compelling theory!)

The orb also weakens him, likely causes massive fatigue, and even seems to be draining his "spirit" or his mental capabilities. We see this in descriptions of Arcane Hunger (which are below). It's a wonder this man can put one foot in front of the other if the pain is particularly bad.

In addition to all the other physical symptoms, the orb itself has physically scarred his body with the marking on his chest, which is also bruising pretty significantly (though this "bruising" could just as likely be dark-colored magic just beneath his skin, your headcanon/mileage may vary).

Photo credits: @elspethdekarios, though I cropped them down for this deep dive

If you click on the images and zoom in, you can see how the markings have a bit of depth and texture to them, as opposed to the flat lines of a tattoo. The lines are carved into his skin. Certain lighting will also make the mark look darker or lighter, and make the bruising at the center faint or noticeably dark. There are some theories that the bruising gets worse as the game goes on, but I think it's just a lightning issue (though it would be interesting if the bruising gets darker with each new level of arcane hunger, or something to that effect).

Lastly, and I'll discuss this more in part 2, even when the orb does not actively pain Gale, it "stirs." Other references from the narrator reveal that the orb "shudders" or "prickles" within him. Gale can feel the movement of the orb inside his body, possibly like a weird fluttering or vibration in his chest. It's likely why, even when he isn't actively hungering, he'll put his hand over his chest and adjust his shoulders, as if reacting to a strange and slightly uncomfortable sensation within his chest.

Anyway, long story short, the physical symptoms of dealing with the hungering orb are:

Biological deterioration (like hunger, the body consuming itself, muscles weakening, etc)

Muscle spasms

Disorientation

Ringing in the ears

Difficulty concentrating/brain fog/mental fatigue

Cramping and/or chest pain

General discomfort and pain

Physical fatigue/feelings of weakness

Scarring and bruising from the orb itself

A sensation of the orb "stirring" even when not painful

And this man will joke about it.

Honestly, his ability to joke and discuss his condition with humor is a sign to me that he really is experiencing and thinking of the orb the same way people with chronic conditions think about their pain or illnesses. At the start of the game, Gale's condition is incurable—Gale says as much himself that it "cannot be cured." It can only be managed, treating the symptoms and diminishing the pain, rather than completely eradicating the impairment. Gale likely has a new scale for pain, the same way people with chronic pain do. A "bad day" for him would likely end most healthy, normative people in a clinic hoping for some prescription pain medication, whereas he will just grit his teeth and keep going. In short, saying that the orb is a "chronic impairment" is a bit of an understatement, and I don't think people realize just how much Gale is/acts like a person dealing with real-world chronic pain or chronic illnesses.

Gale is used to this pain, though he certainly isn't enjoying it. Have you ever persuaded him to wait before giving him a magic item? If your persuasion is high enough (and he likes you), he'll give a cheery "of course!" even though treating the pain is obviously the preferable path here. When he reminds you of his need for an item, as with the "teething displacer kitten" line or the "My condition likes being ignored as much as I do," he still conveys these lines with a mix of urgency and dark humor. He's dealt with this condition for a year or more. You might be testing his tolerance by withholding items, but he's not going to let on just how badly he's actually feeling.

This is the man who will uncomfortably laugh and say "Gods, this is bloody uncomfortable," while the orb in his chest is running a high-grade POTS flare-up and consuming his innards. That's what we call an understatement, Gale. He could complain a lot more, and far more loudly, but he's actually keeping it quite restrained, as people with chronic pain often tend to do.

So anyway, if you ever hear anyone complaining that Gale complains about his magic orb condition too much, ask them how much they'd like walking around with heart-attack symptoms for a few hours at a time. But let's move on!

The Gameplay Effects

Now that we know what the orb does to Gale narratively, what does his condition do to him mechanically in the game? Because, unlike with Karlach's unstable engine or Shadowheart's incurable wound (other examples of chronic pain/disability in the game), the game adds actual debuffs to Gale's character that can affect gameplay and battles. Therefore, leaving Gale disabled with pain also, in effect, disables the player's ability to play the game (or at least hampers it).

In the game, there are three stages of Arcane Hunger. Most people generally don't go beyond the first stage, because why would you let Gale walk around with a debuff of any kind if you have a locket of dancing lights you'll never use? But if you continue to ignore him (or, if you're playing as Gale, and willfully choose not to consume any items) then the Arcane Hunger will progress to Greater and Severe Arcane Hunger, bringing even more serious debuffs to his character.

Arcane Hunger - Condition Gale's spirit is being drained. He has disadvantage on Constitution Saving Throws. Greater Arcane Hunger - Condition The Netherese Orb in Gale's body is weakening him. He has Disadvantage on Attack Rolls and all Saving Throws. Severe Arcane Hunger - Condition The Netherese Orb in Gale's body is severely weakening him. He has Disadvantage on Attack Rolls and all Saving Throws. His movement speed is halved.

Casual reminder that Constitution Saving Throws generally affect concentration, which is needed to maintain spells that last for more than one turn. This goes back to Gale's concentration/mental fatigue when he's initially hungering. When the hunger progresses, however, Gale is physically weakened and the game makes it so that he's more likely to fail savings throws or attacks.

Trying to normally play as Gale with these debuffs is basically an exercise in resigning yourself to missing attacks frequently and failing literally every saving throw (this includes disadvantage on saving throws in dialogues as well). He's still playable, since Magic Missile never misses and you can work with spells that deal damage even when an enemy passes their saving throw, but he becomes even more of a glass cannon than ever. If he's not at the back of a fight, he goes down pretty quick.

Once you hit Severe Arcane Hunger (which I hit after only 6.5 hours of rushed gameplay, though you could probably hit it sooner if you were zooming through a bit faster than me) you're also forced to walk everywhere. Gale's movement speed is halved. The distance he can move in a single turn is drastically shorter than usual, and his speed is no faster than a casual walk. Anyone who has tried to move while encumbered knows this same walking speed debuff.

So the game literally takes Gale's chronic impairment and makes it disabling to both him AND you controlling him. No one really wants to play the entirety of BG3 at a walking pace, after all, so it forces you to make a decision—will you finally treat Gale's condition, or will you grit your teeth and bare it, like Gale does with his pain (though it's nowhere near close to the same levels of discomfort).

Typically a companion Gale will just leave if you refuse to give him any items and he progresses to the stage where he's at Severe Arcane Hunger. But if you play as Origin Gale, you can keep playing with Severe Arcane Hunger until, well, his condition literally paralyzes him and then he withers away, apparently dying of necrotic damage from the orb (I’m assuming here, because the log doesn’t specify what damage causes Gale to wither away, and he exudes a necrotic damage aura once he’s dead, which happens whenever he dies anyway).

Gale withered away. Gale lost Condition: Gale is Paralysed. Gale received Condition: Gale is Paralysed. [mumm's note: obviously this is listed in reverse order, because Gale becomes paralyzed and then withers away]

It appears that if left untreated, Gale’s biological deterioration reaches a point that it literally shuts his body down completely, and then he just...dies. I imagine that physically the orb has eaten away at so many of his vital tissues, including his internal organs, that everything just sort of ceases to function. He's corrupted from the inside out, and nothing but death and a quick resurrection can reverse those effects.

It's worth noting that if you choose to do this experiment with Origin Gale and don't feed him a single magic item, then Elminster won't be waiting for you to arrive in the Mountain Pass or just outside the Shadow Cursed Lands if you travel through the Underdark. Since Gale hasn't been managing his symptoms, he hasn't realized that the various items he's consuming aren't having any effect. Therefore, he isn't actively looking for a new solution to treat the symptoms. Since he isn't looking, I guess Elminster never thought to make himself available with the new solution?

Honestly, why Elminster doesn't show up is kind of a mystery. Gameplay-wise, I assume it's that Gale's quest didn't progress enough to trigger the game flag that would spawn Elminster. But lore-wise or narratively, it doesn't make sense. Mystra sends Elminster with both a command and a temporary "cure," so is she just waiting until Gale realizes his symptoms can no longer be managed? No idea. Maybe I'll explore it more in Part 3.

Anyway the point is that when an untreated Gale reaches Moonrise without talking to Elminster, the game (and his condition) shuts him down. When you revive him at camp, Elminster conveniently appears to give him Mystra's command to sacrifice himself at the Heart of the Absolute and stabilizes the orb at last.

But there's a catch.

Elminster Aumar: A shame that we did not cross paths sooner. The orb's thirst for magic is now quenched, yet it already inflicted some damage while you tried to forge ahead. The ill effects may linger, I'm afraid. Not enough to hamper your mission, I hope.

I believe this can also happen with a companion Gale, but I'm not sure about the specific parameters of triggering this. Regardless, as actual-lea has observed in their No Gale Dinner experiment, if Gale has regular Arcane Hunger then Elminster stabilizes the orb and all is well, but if he has Greater or Severe Arcane Hunger, then the damage the orb does to his body becomes irreversible. After Elminster stabilizes the orb, in this scenario, Gale is left with a permanent "Arcane Hunger" debuff, the same as the above, where he suffers disadvantage on constitution saving throws. This time, you can't consume items to make it go away, and nothing will cure the debuff. Gale just permanently has it for the rest of the game.

(It's worth noting that you can also kill Elminster while he's talking with Gale, thus preventing him from stabilizing the orb with his magic and from telling Gale he needs to sacrifice himself. This sort of breaks the narrative for Gale and results in some wonky dialogue chains that do and don't flag correctly, but the interesting outcome is that it means you can continue playing the game with Severe Arcane Hunger, which is now also a permanent debuff. You can consume magical items before the Elminster visit, but never after. Even if you kill him, you lose the ability to consume items, which means it is officially impossible to manage Gale's symptoms. You just have to deal with the halved walking speed and disadvantage on everything. And you can complete the game that way, if you have the patience! But it would be a very long game. I would know. I've done it and I was rushing like a maniac lol)

Anyway this is getting super long, so I'll end with a few wrap-up thoughts.

Final Thoughts

Having played as Gale with Severe Arcane Hunger for several hours in the game, I think Gale honestly downplays just how bad the pain and debilitating effects of his condition really are. As I was going through the evidence, I kept thinking about how there are so many different elements of pain, discomfort, fatigue, and general unpleasantness that are all part of Gale's everyday life. Even when the orb is stabilized or not actively hurting him, he likely still feels it moving in his chest and I imagine there are chronic effects that stabilizing the orb couldn't exactly cure, like lingering fatigue (and we wonder why Gale complains about his knees and wanting to take a rest and so forth).

Ookay the knees thing might be unrelated to the orb but I digress

Dealing with that much pain and internal corruption is a state of living that most people wouldn't want to stay in, and Gale is no exception here. He wants to stop the pain in his chest, just as much as he wants his former abilities and magical prowess to return. These things are connected, which I'll talk about in part 2. But without hope of a cure, Gale is forced to deal with his condition as a process of managing symptoms, creating a treatment plan that involves him consuming magic from magical items just to get a bit of relief.

But that, my friends, is where we'll pick up with Part 2 - The Hunger and the Treatment.

[myokk]

Hi! I'm still feral for these two, would you mind giving us some art of them in their later years together!?

Hello angel!!!!

Sorry it’s taken so long to respond🫶🫶 but I wanted to draw some new art for this ask💓

We have: Sebastian and Eloise trying out their new fancy camera with a selfie, pictures of them with their daughter, and finally…idk I just always felt like this drawing is when they’re a bit older💓

I want to take this ask as an opportunity as well to talk a little about how I imagine their future (I have no chill & you can ignore this and just enjoy the art if you want😇).

I am a COMPLETE pantser - I never know how a chapter’s going to end when I start writing it (I always just have a few scenes I know I need to include to keep the plot moving forward). Although I have different *big* scenes I’m always writing towards, and themes/plot elements I’m always foreshadowing (shout out to @elliecutte for catching *almost* all of my hints and appreciating my general no chill😆), IM STILL NOT 100% SURE HOW I WILL END THINGS !!! 😳 I have a lot of endings I see as possible, and I think soon it will become more clear to me what will work the best💓

HAPPY ENDING:

Eloise and Sebastian become Unspeakables. I have a LOT of thoughts on this profession that could be its OWN post, and I feel like Unspeakables are generally specialized in one or two departments, but as their interests/research change they also change.

Eloise becomes an Unspeakable in the Mind and Death departments, with the occasional foray into Time. Her ancient magic is connected with all of these things (my version of AM is NOT like the game) & the Department of Mysteries is one of the only places that gives her any useful information about these things. Plus she thinks too much (it IS her hobby after all😆💓) and is very introverted so a hermit job like this is a perfect fit.

Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable as well, but I feel like it takes him a long time to specialize in anything, if he ever does. I just feel like becoming an Unspeakable is the adult equivalent of sneaking into the Restricted Section🥹🫶

They grow old together (I won’t explain TOO much) & have a lovely little family🥹 at least one daughter that they both dote on. Sebastian had an amazing childhood (idyllic until it wasn’t), and wants to give his daughter the same, and Eloise works hard to make sure their daughter feels the love that she never had growing up🥺

When Sirius is burned off the family tree, Eloise and Sebastian take him in🥹🫶 (they’re like 100 years old but WIZARDS LIVE LONGER…) The same happened to her all those years ago, and she wants him to know that his whole family hasn’t abandoned him.

Eloise LOVED her nieces - Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa - when they were younger, but as Voldemort becomes more powerful & people realize WHAT he’s doing, she has to separate herself from them. Her heart breaks seeing Bellatrix go mad, and seeing Narcissa engaged to a Malfoy out of obligation😔 (iykyk)

I haven’t thought any more about happy ending but I think it’s fun to think about how their future story might weave in with the actual canon events, ESPECIALLY since Eloise is a Black🥹💓

SAD ENDING:

After Sebastian gets his hands on Slytherin’s relic, it really starts to consume him and makes him even MORE obsessive than his natural tendencies - I imagine it similarly “talking” to him like Slytherin’s locket/horcrux did in Deathly Hallows (😳)

Eloise is deathly afraid of the changes she’s seeing in Sebastian and steals it from him (he would never willingly give it to her ESPECIALLY if it starts to feel like a precious item to him)

BUT the relic triggers the latent Black Family Madness in her - the madness that afflicts almost every woman in her family since…🤭 - and she herself starts to lose touch with reality. Her body and soul are already destroying themselves between the curse and the ancient magic inside of her, and the relic is what triggers it in her.

Sebastian becomes an Unspeakable, focusing on the Mind, in a desperate attempt to find a cure for his Eloise🥺

He never gives up his research, and sometimes when he comes home she is lucid and they talk about his research - otherwise, he just loves and takes care of her.

(He’s never successful in finding a way to reverse what he feels he caused in the first place - his ambition and single-mindedness is, to him, the reason why all of this happened)

Honestly who knows if I end their story either of these ways😌 I just love thinking of AUs and different endings and I have a few others I’ve considered as well!!! And whatever endings I don’t write will be immortalized on this blog and in my art as well🙏

[comically-callous]

Hi! You must’ve JUST posted while I was searching a tag! WELCOME to the crowd of other amateur writers who have no idea what we’re doing!

I have a request for a short fanfic/drabble! Wonka 2023 where fem!reader is a storyteller who worked in the laundry room when Willy arrives. Reader is closer with Noodle and usually tells her bedtime stories before going to sleep, and Willy comes to admire the vast imagination in the stories while falling in love, to Noodle’s joy. I haven’t had the motivation to write in a long time, so I hope you’d be up to trying to get the story out of my head!

Hi! Thanks sm for the request. Hope I could do your idea justice lol

Willy Wonka x Storyteller!Fem!Reader (Wonka 2023)

Warnings: None, I think. Sort of just a cute fluffy one.

Three years ago, you made the worst and most unforgivable mistake of your life: Taking a shower at Ms. Scrubbit's hotel.

To make a fairly short story shorter, you neglected to read the small print, leading to you being in a massive debt to her. So, for the next 5 years of your life, you'd be forced to work in a dirty, old laundry room.

You were absolutely miserable at first. Your days dragged by and your nights were mostly spent curled up in your bed crying. But, once you accepted your situation, you found a way to make the days go by faster: Making up stories in your head while you worked.

You'd always had quite the creative mind; so, weaving tales of magic and wonder was a fun way to spend your time.

Plus, Noodle always liked to hear your stories before she went to sleep.

But, recently you'd earned another fan of your stories.

Willy was the newest person who was unfortunate enough to end up down here. And lately he'd started sitting at the desk in Noodle's room every night, tinkering with new chocolate recipes or practicing his reading and writing skills, while you told Noodle a bedtime story.

But, according to noodle, he was actually in there just to listen to you. Supposedly, the moment you left, he'd turn to noodle and the two would discuss whatever story you'd told that night.

If that was true, you were honored.

One night, Noodle and Willy snuck out of the laundry room to do who knows what. And a couple hours later, Noodle returned without Willy. She told you all about the adventure they had which apparently included milking a giraffe, flamingos, and a run in with the police.

Her recount of the night was entertaining, and you were glad she's had fun. But, you couldn't help but feel a bit worried for Willy. "So, what's gonna happen to Willy?" You asked. "Is he getting arrested?"

Noodle shook her head. "He told me he'd talk his way out of it." She said as she got into bed. She tilted her head at you. "Do you like him?"

"What?" You flushed.

"Like, do you wanna be his girlfriend?"

"I-" You were about to say no, but that wasn't entirely true. You admired him. He had a brilliant mind, and he was unbelievably handsome. "Okay, how about I tell you a story?"

"So, you do wanna be his girlfriend."

"Story is beginning now."

Later in the night, you were in your own room, about to settle in for bed when someone knocked at your door.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, getting up to open the door for whoever it was.

"Hey." Willy greeted. "Sorry if I woke you up." His hair looked wet which was strange, but you were more concerned with why he was at your door.

"Don't worry, I wasn't asleep. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I was just wondering if... Uh, did you tell Noodle a story while I was gone?"

You nodded. "I did."

He seemed a little disheartened, which made you feel bad. "I'm sure noodle can retell you the story tomorrow." You offered, trying to lighten his mood.

"She could. But, the way you... I mean... You have a wonderful, imaginative, beautiful mind. And the way you tell your stories, it's amazing! You could read me a grocery list, and I'd be on the edge of my seat." He gushed.

You couldn't help but blush. "You think all of that?"

"Yes! How could I not?" He gave you an affectionate smile.

You returned him smile. "I mean... I could tell the story to you right now, if you want."

Willy thought about it. "It's alright. I think I can go without a story for one night." He said reassuringly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the offer, though."

He began to step away from your door, saying a quick goodnight before he began walking toward his room.

"Wait, Willy." He stopped and turned to you.

You walked up to him and kissed his cheek. Willy blushed. "What was that for?"

You shrugged. "To make up for the story you missed out on?" You offered.

Willy smiled and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

"What was that for?" You asked this time.

"Just cause I like you." He replied as he leaned in to kiss you again.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

The Tiefling Bachelors Taking Care of Sick! Reader Getting Treatment

A/N: This was sitting in my drafts, finished months ago, but I guess I never posted it? Oh well, it’s here now! 

No one asked for this but it came to me as I was getting infused the other day. I really wanted Zevlor to manifest out of thin air and hold my hand  😔. Anyway, without further ado… Here we go!

Characters: Dammon/Reader; Rolan/Reader; Zevlor/Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

TW: Brief discussions of illness, some fantasy medical talk

Dammon- 

Dammon is probably the most fussy of the trio. He’s bumbling around the tent, ensuring you have enough blankets and water. Or do you want tea? Juice? Whatever it is, love, name it and he will fetch it for you.

He means to be helpful although his nervous waiting on you does create an air of anxiety in the room. 

If he gets too manic, the healers have to send him out on an ‘errand’, so that he can collect his nerves and so you have time to yourself. 

When he returns, Dammon is much calmer, having been cornered and given a pep talk by one of the elder tieflings or your companions outside. 

He’ll sit across from you, and distract you by showing you his latest outlines/blueprints for swords and lathes and such. 

If you’re particularly stressed, or truly not feeling well due to the side-effects of the treatment, he might even show you his jewelry designs. Dammon was, of course, planning to give them to you as a present after you’d finished your treatment, but in the meantime, he’d like you to keep them in mind to have something forward to look to. 

If you’re sleepy, he’ll just stay at your side while you rest, sketching in his book or making idle chats with the healer. 

Dammon excels at ‘parallel play’ kind of dates. He quite enjoys it when the two of you are each doing their respective thing within a shared space. He’s more than comfortable amusing himself while you just chill out right next to him. 

Of course, before you leave, he asks the healers a million questions, scrambling down all their answers. How long will this last? What side effects should you look out for? What happens if things get worse? He wants to be prepared after they take their leave, and he sees it as his responsibility to take care of you as you recuperate. 

He’s really so sweet, like a little puppy dog. He’s not always the most helpful, and he has a tendency to get in the way, but his efforts never fail to lift your spirits at the end of the day.

Rolan-

Rolan is such a stickler for being an oppositional brat all the time. He gives everyone around him whiplash by turning into the most overbearing parental figure. You’d think he’d been possessed if it wasn’t for that trademark smirk of his. 

He’s constantly making you drink. No, he doesn’t care that you’re not thirsty, the healer said to stay hydrated throughout the process. And no, he doesn’t care that it means you have to get up to pee every 15 minutes. Urinary frequency is a small price to pay! Now be a good patient and drink your chamomile tea without any more complaining, yeah?

He watches the healers like a hawk, mentally recording their every word/move. He’s not a cleric or druid, but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely naive to healing magic. He wants to make sure whatever spells or potions you’re being given are up to his standard. 

And if the healing isn’t magical in nature... Oh boy, he’s going to be even more of a pill about it. He still hovers of course. But he also makes the occasional ‘helpful’ suggestion like: ‘I know a spell that could do that faster’, ‘Herbs are nothing compared to the power of the Weave’. The healers just roll their eyes and work around him. 

If he gets really grouchy, you’re gonna have to put him in a time-out. If not for your sake, then for the poor healers who are just trying to do their job. Rolan argues for a moment, but ultimately agrees, leaving to gather himself. 

When he comes back you can tell either Cal or Lia have spoken some sense into him, since he’s calmed down a bit. Rolan will sit with you, read to you, hold your hand if you beg ask, he might even perform a few tricks for you if you’re feeling up to it. 

He ushers the healers away as soon as they're done, wanting to just be alone with you. He puts up a tough exterior, but deep down he’s afraid. He cares for you so much. You, Cal, and Lia are his family, he feels it's his job to protect you, but try as he might he cannot protect you from your illnesses, and that hurts him deeply. 

You’ll need to comfort him once all this is all over. It’s as much an ordeal for him as it is for you.

Zevlor-

Zevlor is a worry-wart, bless his old paladin heart. His mind is always racing with endless possibilities- about the tieflings, about the grove, about you… It can be a lot for the commander to handle. 

But because Zevlor is a paladin and former hellrider, he has a good amount of experience working under pressure. He knows how to keep a level head and act on what is good for those around him, unlike what seems easiest to accomplish. 

He’s a very disciplined man, and he tries to get that discipline extended to you as you heal. He sets up a regime, for diet, exercise, and socializing catered especially to your needs and current abilities. He wants you to utilize this time to maximize your healing, and just let yourself trust that you are doing all you can to take care of yourself. 

He trusts the healers implicitly, knowing their expertise is much better suited to you and your current priorities. He’ll cater his regime around their recommendations, taking into accommodation your current feelings/moods of course. 

He writes out instructions for you to read while he’s away, busy tending to his duties. In the event he’s especially worried about watching over you, he’ll send Tilly or another one of his soldiers to check in on you periodically. 

Zevlor would love nothing more than to spend the entire day with you, keeping you safe in his embrace, but he’s wise enough to understand that even amidst these kinds of things, life must go on. He cannot abandon his duties as leader and you cannot abandon your life. 

Zevlor tries to maintain the status quo as best as possible, he doesn’t want your illness and treatments to entirely define your life, just as he wishes Elterel will not solely define his. 

Once all is said and done, he comes to find you, a warm broth in his hands. He settles down next to you as you sip your meal slowly, his tail coiling around your waist keeping you close to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, you don’t need to. It’s clear to you what’s in Zevlor’s heart. 

The two of you just sit silently together, enjoying each other's company, as you brace yourselves for yet another new dawn. 

I hope you enjoyed! 

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