#baldurs hate x reader

[gatorbites-imagines]

Astarion Ancunín x Bard Tiefling Male reader

Headcanons

I’ve been playing Baldurs Gate 3 little by little, and I’ve fallen for this vamps’ charms. I blame Twilight. Reader is a Tiefling Bard cuz that’s what my player character is. I also have only played DnD like twice, so I know nothing about races or canon. If you guys have any cool dnd facts, let me know, id love to hear them.

Heres just some light and overall headcanons, there’s no specific theme.

In the beginning like any relationship started with Astarion, it wouldn’t be romantic from his part in the start. You, being a bard, have met and experienced a lot of people, so you can read between the lines in his actions though.

You aren’t cruel when it comes to helping others, not one to fit the stereotype some people seem to have for Tieflings and bards. You are just perspective, and you’ll need a reason to do something, having been burned so many times in the past by trying to be good.

Early on, before you knew he was a vampire, the two of you could regularly be found sitting a bit away from the fire at night as the others slept. You would play your instrument at a low volume, as the sound helped your allies sleep, and Astarion would stay nearby since you guys were allies.

Overtime it would develop into something more, you two would flirt, and feelings would actually bloom. It even reaches a point where you might start writing poems or songs about Astarion and your feelings for him, though you’d never show them to anyone, especially not Astarion, his ego is already big enough.

Astarion would struggle with the feelings he is developing for you, as we all know he would. In the beginning he would deny it, and try to convince himself that it was just something going hand in hand with lust, or something about being free and in the sun.

As the story goes on though, we all know that Astarion becomes softer and finally accepts his feelings for you. The two of you being shunned in ways from society, him being a vampire, and you being a Tiefling, probably helps build some solidarity too.

After you guys officially get together, hed start making jokes about you writing ballads about him and his excellence, and you’d joke there’s no need for that. In the end he would figure out the songs you wrote about him before you guys even got together, and of course he preens like a peacock.

I don’t know if Tiefling blood tastes different or has different properties, but to Astarion, the first time you let him feed on you, he would never be able to feed on anyone else. You are perfect to him, from the top of your horns to the tip of your tail.

When you guys cuddle your tail curls around him, and it even seems to do it without you realizing during the day. It becomes a joke amongst your friends, much to your embarrassment.

You being a Bard and Tiefling also means higher charisma, you two are probably lethal when it comes to persuasion or anything involving your charms and lies, especially when you work together.

I don’t know if Astarion plays any instruments, since he wouldn’t have been able to do so for all the years, he’s been under Cazador, or I assume so. But even if he did, I could imagine him asking you to teach him how to play your instrument.

You being a Tiefling also means you are warmer to the touch, and Astarion being a vampire means he doesn’t have any body heat. So, he’s like a big lizard or cat when you guys’ cuddle, just curling up in your arms or melting against your chest.

[vampiresfromxenon]

I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words 

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!! 

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

~

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy. 

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you. 

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love. 

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical. 

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations. 

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep. 

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads. 

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side. 

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you. 

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?” 

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space. 

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep. 

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know. 

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

 “I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice. 

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy. 

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks. 

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds. 

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-” 

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you. 

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him. 

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery. 

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel. 

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more. 

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy. 

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes. 

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again. 

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do. 

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words. 

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise. 

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you. 

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.” 

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips. 

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat. 

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing. 

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you. 

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest. 

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe. 

~

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :) 

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

~

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

[randomfanner]

Gale + Tara Headcanons

I love Gale so much. SFW Headcanons only, relationship and also just general life headcanons I have about the worlds saddest oxymoron.

Labeled TW: Gale got groomed. We are going to be discussing today Because even if he was an adult(which he probably wasn't) he still got groomed because Mystra had so much power over this man.

General TW: Gale has self hatred issues. I hate Mystra. We will be talking about Mystra in depth I promise. Also Gifted kid burn out and general tying all of your self worth to a talent.

So, body type head canon because Gale does not have abs. You cannot look me in the eyes and tell me Gale has abs. He is soft and a little squishy and very huggable.

Man is a cuddler. He always wants to cuddle. Whether it be you two be lounging on a sofa, each reading/doing your own tasks well you snuggle together, spooning in the morning, laying together after a night of passion, or whatever reason he can get to just hold you in his arms.

I think he is touch starved other than Tara. Which as great as Tara is it is not human touch. And gods don't... really physically touch. So I don't think he got very much physical affection from Mystra. So being touched, being held with your hands and feeling your flesh on his means so much to him.

He doesn't think he is good at it. But he still really likes to do it. If you ask him to cuddle with him, he will flip in his heart because it makes him the happiest man in the world to know you want to cuddle with him as much as he wants to cuddle with you.

Tara likes you. She likes you fast. She begins telling you all of Gale's stories from when he was younger, how sweet of a boy he was and how he would use his beginning magic to help people. If you give her attention she will purr so loud. Gale and Tara both really like chin scratches.

She begins calling you "Mrs/Mr/Mrx. Dekarios" pretty damn quickly. she has accepted you as his partner which she never did Mystra. it really throws Gale off when she does it. He admittedly thought Tara was so against Mystra because she was a lover period.

Tara also may begin to favor your lap. If this happens, Gale is... shocked and disappointed "You have stolen not only my heart, love, but my Treyssem as well." "Would you like to repeat that, Mr. Dekarios?"

And he wonders why she favors your lap.

She also favors you lap because she has to thank you for keeping her sweet boy alive for her. She may even allow you the honor to stroke her stomach a few times.

She also brings you gifts, magic items, trinkets, carcasses, whatever she can get her paws on and thinks you would like.

She takes you in fast and begins asking for grand babies. She wants grand babies and Gale's mother wants grand babies. The topic of course make your flustered each time and Gale denies the possibility of being a good father, but Tara is pretty insistent.

Morena also loves you as well and you best believe she is showing you pictures from Gale's childhood and telling you as much information as she can. Poor Gale just sits there and is extremely flustered well she recounts even his less flattering tales... but he does nothing to stop it.

He is really happy his mom and Tara both like you. It makes him the happiest man in the world.

Gale likes to cook for you. A lot. He cooks the fanciest, gourmet food and he is extremely good at it. He will set up fancy candle lit dinners with music in the background. This is basically every night but he tries to make sure it never truly loses its luster. (It never does).

He also makes you breakfast in bed. He has to crawl away from you in the morning to feed Tara and so he just makes you breakfast and comes back freshly deserved.

If you cook together man is smiling so much his jaw hurts. I cannot describe to you the joy he feels having you by his side, helping him cook.

Expect so much love poetry all of the time. Even when you are questing or not he will just slip a small piece of paper into your hand with all of his affections written down as poems.

He also quotes poetry verses that make him think of you, to you, at random times. He is hoping to make you smile with all of them.

Gale is so sweet to you all of the time. He treats you like you are divine, and to him you are. Complete gentleman all of the time. He does not carry anything. You could be a fighter with a 20 in strength with thighs and arms that could crush his fucking head like a grape, He will still insist on trying to carry anything heavy for you. He holds doors, pulls out chairs, makes sure your wine is refilled. He is so doting.

Man feels guilty that he is doing so little to help you at times. He wants to do more for you then he does. He tries to make sure you are pampered at all times. Kisses, gifts, fancy shows, lovely nights together.

But he tries to do more. he always makes sure to protect you in battle. He will take attacks, using shield and mage armor to make sure he can take as many hits as needed to protect you. He will be your knight in magic armor, a dashing smile well he does so.

This often leads to the ES(Emergency Shadowheart) because Gale is an over-confident wizard but if you are safe he doesn't care. If you are meant to be a tank, you may need to have a chat with him about the fact he is the squishy wizard man and you can protect him.

But it is Gale.

If you get sick or injured or anything Gale is fretting over you. He is holding you and yelling for Shadowheart like you are going to die at this moment. Even if it is a small thing he is very dramatic and very scared of losing you.

When you get sick or are on your period he makes sure to give you medicine to help with illness and pains, magic hiding the taste, and so much good food.

Tara also rests on your lap and acts like a heating pad. Purring and trying to help you feel better.

So like, after the ending I think Gale and you take a break from everything and just, go and look around. And Gale takes a break from magic. He can still love the art, and he will go back to it but I just think he needs to take a step back because magic and his talent for magic has kind of defined Gale his entire life.

I think him taking a break and just... being a person rather than a wizard for a little a while. He can be both, he knows he can. But he will need time and a deep breathe. He will go back, he loves to do magic. It means the world to him. But absences makes the heart grow fonder. And I think working on other skills he can be proud of and knowing Magic is one of the many things he is good at rather then the ONLY thing he is good at will do him wonders.

So I am going be talking about Gale's trauma a lot in the lower half of this. First, Gale's confidence issues and how fucked up the orb is. There will be comfort with Tara and you. After that we are going to get into the problem. The problem will come up in this section, however not the fact Gale got Groomed. That will be another different section.

Warning out of the way:

I think his self confidence and self image is being held together by the type of "I am good at magic". He was a prodigy and I think Gale only saw worth in his magic and his skill on it. He loves to do it too but at the same time he HAS to be good at it, or it feels like. He respects people who are better.

He did fuck up with the orb, but I also think he wasn't fully aware of what he was getting himself. Yes he should have known not listening to Mystra was a bad idea, but she didn't explain exactly what he did wrong until Gale talks with her in the game. This is years later.

Gale really needed Tara after he went from Mystra's Chosen and the Lover of Mystra to a fool who flew too close to the sun and came crashing down in a brilliant display of horrible glory. Man ruined his life, lost everything, and had a problem that Mystra gave him no ideas how to fix.

Mystra DID NOT EXPLAIN ANYTHING TO GALE UNTIL THAT CUTSCENE IN GAME YOU GET AFTER MYSTRA TELLS GALE TO BLOW HIMSELF UP. Gale was kept alive due to Tara. Tara was the one who flew off and found out how to help Gale.

I also think the only thing Mystra valued with Gale's magic knowledge and abilities. She is a goddess, she doesn't really eat human food, Tara and Mystra didn't each other, she is a goddess and I doubt physical touch was common.

So I think Gale being rude to you about magic, especially if you are a different class who can do magic and he insulted you, is because the is grasping with issues of trying to remind himself he is a good mage. This does not excuse his behavior. But I think when he realizes what he did he is going to apologize whole heartedly

One day he is just thinking about how you first met and he just realizes 'I was awful!"

He is going to hold your hand to his cheek, and apologize for doing that. Because you make him realize that he is more than his magic. He is more then what he has been called talented for and tied everything too for so long.

He isn't a failure if he fails with his magic.

Don't get me wrong, Gale can get ahead of himself and is pushy. I want to flick him in the head as soon as he begins thinking trying to become a god is a good idea in the first place. It is a horrible idea as much as I hate Mystra, don't want Gale to become a god. He deserves to be a good man with his wine, his library, his treyssem, and, should fates permit, you.

So, we are going to start talking about Mystra being a P*dophile and just the worst emotional manipulator. When we get to talking about it I am not censoring the word.

This is the end, I am not putting anything else below this. You are free to move along your day, you will not miss out on any of the good stuff. I promise.

This is the only notable part of this: I want Withers to be the god of Magic. He would be a great god of magic, he proves with Arabella.

So, Gale was like, 17 to 23 I believe the range is. And even if Gale is in the later half of that, he still got fucking groomed by Mystra because Mystra had and still has so much power over Gale.

She is the goddess of his greatest asset. His magic. And as we just discussed, the goddess of the thing he ties all of his self worth to. Mystra was literally someone he worshipped. She IS the goddess of magic. Gale had no power in the relationship and never did.

Mystra knows this. She is smart enough to know what is doing is fucking horrible, and get it, she is a god, but she is also a straight up pedophile. We all know about the fact people LITERALLY HIDE THEIR CHILDREN FROM HER.

I do not doubt that being Mystra's chosen meant doing everything she asked. I don't think Mystra took no for an answer in any matters. I also think mistakes were punished with emotional manipulation. Not violence like we see with Shar or Vaalikith (She sorta counts) but gods did he make Gale feel worthless if he failed.

I think Gale feels guilty for a lot of things a lot he shouldn't feel guilt for. I think one of the biggest things Mystra would make Gale feel guilty for was talking to basically any one else if it was not a work relationship.

I would not doubt if Mystra cut Gale off from his mother and would have from Tara if Tara was anyone else. Mystra is noted as a jealous goddess if you are dating Gale. I do not doubt that jealousy was a pretty frequent thing.

Tara hates Mystra with every bone in his fluffy body and tried so hard to talk to Gale but Gale would not listen to her because, well- she is his boss, his teacher, his lover and also the person who controls the thing he ties his self worth too of course he is going to listen to everything Mystra said.

Also Mystra 100% cut Gale off from any source of help he could actually get. Again, Tara was the one to find out about the orb. And I think more than just shame, embarrassment and being a laughing stock from one of the greats, I think Mystra made sure no one was going to be talking to Gale.

I want DLC where we beat the fuck out of Mystra. I really want to kill her. I know I cannot but she is terrible and she deserves death. I know I am captain obvious right now but I cannot stress this enough.

I want Withers to be the god of Magic. He would be a great god of magic, he proves with Arabella.

[writeshite]

Nothing Do Us Part

Summary:

The bastard smiled at you before picking the lock and forgoing any caution. “You shouldn’t be here,” You argue weakly. Astarion huffed, the cell door now wide open; you had yet to reach out in any manner, “Neither should you,” he counterargued, “you’re filthy, bloody and thin as a rake.” He took the first step and grabbed at your hand, staring disappointedly at the cuts and bruises lining your skin. “I’m taking you home to Hells with the Harpers and whoever else thinks they can take you from me.”

Pairings:

Astarion x Male!Reader

Tags:

Long-Haired Astarion | Bhaalspawn Reader | Ascended Astarion |

Words: 1828

Author's Note:

Guess who's not dead lmfao (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧ I found out there's a Bhaalspawn ending where they turn themselves in, and I was like, Ascended Astarion would not be happy about that.

The spawn came at first light, walking into Crimson Draughts with a curt smile; the curly mop of white that Araj had once hopped to brush her cheek whilst her life danced on the edge was now long curled trusses of hair reaching past his shoulders to his mid-back. “I need you to find someone.” His words went in one ear and out the other as Araj examined him; he was different from when she’d first set eyes on him and his intriguing companion in Moonrise.

“I’m surprised to see you alive, spawn,” she remarks. “I’d thought you dead in Moonrise.”

“Oh, hardly,” he laughs, “but I’m not here to discuss past adventures. As I said, I need you to find someone.”

“I heard you the first time, and I’m not a bloodhound,” she corrected.

“Hence my request, an expert of the sanguine arts, I believe is what you called yourself,” he fished a vial from his pockets, “I will reimburse you in as much gold and whatever equipment you require, as long as you find who I’m looking for and place an unerasable tether on said person. Understood?”

“Whose blood is it?” 

“Hardly any of your concern, is it? Now, will you take the job, or shall I pursue Sorcerers Sundries to find someone more willing to take my commission?” 

Araj huffed, “My, my, aren't we touchy? I’ll take your commission.”

The blood was intriguing. It radiated malice and murderous intent—as odd of observation as that was—the red would bloom darker colours before shifting back to red, and the odour was equally as odd, smelling too much like blood, a sharp, strong iron that piqued her interest. A godling’s blood? An Aasimar, perhaps? Though Araj wasn’t certain if such creatures bled, regardless, she had no doubt the spawn had brought her the blood of someone divine; whether said person was of the holy or unholy persuasion, she remained uncertain.

The Upper City was abuzz when Astarion returned; artisans, sages, pole-carters, and all manner of people traversed the streets of the Upper City. Astarion weaved through the crowd to his home in Manorborn, Ancunín Castle—his haven of estates he’d parted from a few patriar families—he’d spent quite some time hunting down artificers to add to his horde of spawn; he'd set them to work and rebuilt the castle from the grounds up to better suit his needs.

“Welcome home, Master Astarion,” Harette greeted him, a small bow accompanying her words; she took Astarion’s coat and folded it away as she caught him up on the morning’s events, “The artificers finished installing the sun-sift glass over the courtyards and atriums, and have begun casting warding glyphs per your instructions. The dungeons have been refurbished for the Rillyn’s children's stay, and you’ve a new bundle of invitations from other patriar families arrive this morning.” She finishes her morning catch-up as they reach his study.

“Thank you, Harette,” Astarion sat at his desk, dismissing her; he sifted through the invitations on his desk—Belt, Hullhollyn, Tillerturn—letters to their parties, brunches, and whatever else Astarion read through. He replies to them, declining their invitations with kind apologies and half-felt promises to join the next festivity; far more pressing matters needed Astarion’s attention. The Fist and Harpers had done a better job than expected covering their tracks whenever they moved you, but Astarion had come close a few times before, hence the need for the Drow, much to his displeasure. He may have been impervious to sunlight now, but the harpers had enlisted the help of Lathandernites and Selûnites, and Astarion wasn’t going to chance his resistance to sunlight, much less holy light. Astarion had been greatly against you turning yourself in; the stubborn persistence he’d usually find adorable became annoying, “If you’re worried about rampaging, you shouldn’t. I can keep you in line; I’ve done it before.”

“I wasn’t Bhaal’s Chosen then, just his progeny,” you’d corrected him, “I barely managed to hold myself back from harming you in the Shadow-Cursed Lands; I can’t—”

“I’m not some runaway spawn anymore; I’m a Vampire Ascendant.” Astarion had corrected bitterly, but despite his reassurances, he hadn’t been able to deter you from the decision, but it didn’t deter him. Some coin in the right purse and spawn or two in the right place, and he could visit you whenever he pleased, “You should leave.” You’d clung to him regardless of the venom in your words, desperate for some semblance of comfort; your initial prison had been some small nook under Wyrm's Rock Fortress, illuminated by torch and what bioluminescent fungi managed to break ground.

“I told you, pet,” he’d dug his nails in your back, later carving his name along your spine “lovers forever.” He absentmindedly traced the gauntlet you’d torn from Gortash’s body and had modified for Astarion, “I’m not sure if I should be honoured or revolted in some manner,” he’d joked then, yet the gauntlet still held its powerful magic and had been a constant presence on Astarion.

“I don’t remember much; I think I tore this from some patriar’s arm or stole it from a wizard before giving it to Gortash, I don’t know. What I do know is that I love you more than anything.”

“I’m meant to be a fearful Vampire,” he’d huffed, softening for a moment, “you make it quite hard to do so, pet.” Even as Bhaal’s murderous lunacy consumed your mind, a minuscule part of rationality remained, just enough to leave Astarion unharmed during his visits; the same could not be said about the Harpers tasked with guarding you. Astarion’s last visit was met with an empty prison and no Harpers in sight. Clever bastards had a headstart; he was almost offended by how well they predicted him following after them, but not surprised as Jaheira and Minsc had involved themselves in your transfer elsewhere before their expertise and skill were requested outside Baldur’s Gate.

The Drow asks for quite a hefty sum and a new plethora of equipment to complete her work, but she does manage, creating a tether as he’d requested; Astarion pays her for her service and prays he never needs it again. The tether leads to Myth Drannor, in the Dalelands, south of the River Tesh and some distance from Shadowdale; Astarion sneaks himself under the guise of a Harper, replacing the one he’d fed on some time prior, while he may have found where you were he now needed to find where specifically in Myth Drannor you were.

Everything was bloody. The floors of your cell were smeared in blood and dirt; the effigy you’d built yielded no response from your father. Nothing did. Pleading, crying, screaming, and tearing at your meat suit did nothing but elicit silence from the Lord of Murder. Your breaths were rugged and short, coming in quick succession as you fought to keep yourself in control of your person; Bhaal’s silence drove your mind to wander, to sing for blood; you shook your head and screamed, whacking the piled rats and punching the nearest wall. You repeated the action until you felt less like clawing at your meat suit.

You were quick to notice the pale elf approaching your cell, and you shook your head as your eyes widened when you recognised Astarion. The bastard smiled at you before picking the lock and forgoing any caution. “You shouldn’t be here,” You argue weakly.

Astarion huffed, the cell door now wide open; you had yet to reach out in any manner, “Neither should you,” he counterargued, “you’re filthy, bloody and thin as a rake.” He took the first step and grabbed at your hand, staring disappointedly at the cuts and bruises lining your skin. “I’m taking you home to Hells with the Harpers and whoever else thinks they can take you from me.” 

“How did you find me?” You stared at him desperately, holding his hand for dear life. 

“That drow we met at Moonrise has her uses,” he responds, tugging at your arm, “we can catch up when we’re far from here.” 

You followed without resistance, shuffling along the dark narrow corridors, it was luck that you didn’t bump into anyone on your way out, or the journey back to Baldurs Gate. It’s another miracle Astarion sneaks you through to the Upper City without spilling any blood. He led you to a large set of manors lumped under one estate by the looks of the courtyard, a handful of people moved about tending to said courtyard—sweeping, trimming the hedges, polishing the statuettes, and cleaning the fountains.

“Nice home,” you commented.

“Thank you, pet,” the elf is cheerfully proud of his home. The servants stop in their work when they spot Astarion, and all bow, returning to their work respectively once the elf walks past them. The interior is as lavish as the exterior—a richly coloured rug drew a path along the floor; at each side, paintings and columns alternated along the walls as chandeliers lined the ceiling above. More servants are also busy at work here; they bow the same as the ones outside and only continue their work once Astarion has passed them. 

The servants give you uncertain glances, confusion and fear in their expressions. “Ignore them pet; they should know better,” Astarion hissed, and their gazes darted away.

“Are they spawn?” you inquire.

“Most,” he shrugged in response, leading you through the halls to a room devoid of anyone else close by. His room, no doubt. “Some outsiders from the Outer City looking for a new life.” He led you to a tub and ran it with water and just about every perfume and soap he had at his disposal and all but begs you to step into the tub. It takes five cases of andanthe and shampoo to clean your hair thoroughly and two pitchers of a strong-scented liquid wash soap to wash out the dirt from the skin. Astarion picks up the skin and food between your teeth and shoves a whole stick of tooth powder down your throat.

“Is this necessary?” you cough at the strong, minty taste as the tooth powder turns to foam in reaction with saliva.

“If you want my cock and tongue down your throat,” Astarion scrubbed your second set of canines, “then yes.”

The water is dirty brownish-red when you step out of the tub; it’s strange to be without grime after so long, you look at yourself in the mirror. Despite everything, it was still you. 

Astarion draped a fluffy towel over your shoulders, “Tomorrow, we’ll get a tailor and cobbler in here for you.”

“You want to doll me up?” you snort. 

Astarion rolled his eyes, “You need to blend in,” he lightly chastised, “and I have an appearance standard to adhere to.” He huffed, drawing a chuckle from you. “After the tailor and cobbler, we’ll take care of your hair.”

“Hmm,” you nod as he dried off your body. “Whatever you say, starlight.”

End Note:

This started off as a Drabble but then we ended up here with another AU 🤪💀. The way I had to go look at a map of Baldurs Gate and was reminded how shit I am at reading maps lmfao 😭 I have read the Forgotten Realms wiki on so much for this fic. Stay Hydrated.

[mumms-the-word]

Ascension, Return

Pairing: Gale x You (Reader POV) Summary: You watch as Gale restores the Crown of Karsus and temporarily becomes a god before disappearing to return the crown to Mystra. And you can only hope, now that he is a god, that he will return. ao3 link A/N: I was thinking the other day about how in the ending for an Origin run for Gale, regardless of how he plans to deal with the crown business, he always shows up as God!Gale in front of Mystra before agreeing to hand over the crown or deciding to stay a god. And it got me thinking...wouldn't a romanced Tav who is expecting him to give up the crown see him ascend? So anyway I wrote this to get those thoughts out there. As usual pic of my Tav Dani because I keep forgetting to ask to borrow people’s better pictures

It doesn’t take long for you and Gale to make plans to retrieve the crown from the depths of the Chionthar River. The sooner you get this over with, the better, you think, and yet something about this endeavor has you on edge. You secretly wish you can just leave the crown down below the waters…but then, anyone could get it down there, with the right spells or the right technology. You can’t risk that.

You don’t want it in Mystra’s hands either, but what choice do you have? She, at least, is a goddess interested in balance, neither evil like the Dead Three, nor entirely good and thus subject to extreme corruption. There’s no telling what she’ll do with the crown, but she has offered one thing in exchange—a cure for your lover’s affliction.

He’ll be free of the dark hungering orb at last.

It’s enough to convince you. You retrieve your worn bedrolls from the Elfsong and shoulder your pack, ready for your next little adventure—a small boat ride to the other side of the river, and a few days spent with Gale as he searches the murky waters.

You join him on the banks of the Chionthar, well away from the bustle of the city as it is trying to rebuild, watching over him as he sits, eyes glazed with concentration, guiding simulacrums to walk the riverbeds and floors of the river, combing through the mud for the crown. He could have let his simulacrums search without him guiding them, but he wants to be sure, to search closely. He doesn’t want to waste his time turning away simulacrums who bring back scraps of metal, shrapnel from the Iron Throne, or bits from the carnage of the fight against the Netherbrain. So he looks through their eyes, seeing nothing for hours but hazy water, mud, and river plants.

Though you long to lie back and watch the sails of fishing vessels drift by like clouds on the breeze, reveling in a hard-won moment of peace, you don’t want to miss a moment where he might need you. You do not want him to be caught unawares by some curious animal, or worse, a lingering enemy. So you sit and watch, your stomach twisting into knots as you face what you know will be inevitable—the moment when he finally finds the crown.

It takes all of two days of searching. After hours upon hours of looking, he stiffens, his physical body reacting to something beyond your sight, and you know at last that he has found it. You both stand as his simulacrum emerges, dripping water, with the cold bronze of the crown in its hands. 

The Crown of Karsus.

It’s so much smaller than you remember. When you faced it on the top of the Netherbrain it had easily been the size of a large carriage. Here, on the banks of the Chionthar, it’s no bigger than a normal crown. It looks innocent. Harmless.

But you know better.

The power it releases…you are no stranger to it. You readily recall the metallic taste on your tongue as you drew near it atop the Netherbrain and the way its very aura tried to drive you to your knees. Its power is weaker now, pulsating from the bronze metal like a faint heartbeat, but you know that it won’t stay that way.

You glance at Gale, wondering what you’ll see in his face. Dark hunger, perhaps, or something bittersweet. Reluctance, dread, or tired resignation. But his expression is surprisingly neutral. He doesn’t step forward to take the crown just yet. Instead, he studies it with his eyes before taking a deep breath through his nose and turning to look at you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You blink, a little taken aback. “Of course,” you say. “Always.”

“That’s gratifying to hear. It will take me some time to restore the crown and the Netherstones to their original state, fit enough to give to Mystra. The process will be necessarily delicate, given the orb I carry. I should ask you to keep a safe distance. A city’s worth of space, perhaps, just in case, but—”

You cross your arms. “I’m not leaving your side, Gale. I’m here with you, for good or ill.”

He smiles then, as much relieved as he is amused and resigned. “I know. I expected as much. But I thought it best to offer or warn you regardless.” He takes a deep breath. “Very well, then. We stay together. I just hope you’ll be patient with me.”

You reach out and take his hand, threading your fingers between his. “I will be. I’m here for you. Take all the time you need, my love.”

He gives you a grateful look, squeezing your hand affectionately before leaning in to brush a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips. You let him pull away, slipping out of reach, and watch with bated breath as he steps forward to accept the crown, the mark on his chest glowing brighter and brighter as he nears and finally takes the crown in his hands.

You don’t know what you expect. A light show, perhaps. A wave of dark, Netherese magic, or a black hole effect. You steel yourself to the fear that he will simply evaporate or fall to his knees in pain.

But nothing spectacular happens, aside from his mark glowing brightly. To your eyes, the crown acts as little more than a normal crown. To him…

You see his chest expand with a deep breath, the orb flaring brighter, watch him blow the air slowly through his lips, his face tense. But without the tadpole in your heads, you can’t guess at what he’s thinking or feeling. He closes his eyes, simply breathing, concentrating. Fighting, perhaps. Wrestling with some unseen force. The glow on his chest dims slowly until it is only a faint purple tint on his skin. Only then does he finally tighten his hold on the crown and turn back to you.

You get the sense that he has just won a silent, unseen battle within himself. It occurs to you too late that putting the crown and the orb in close proximity might actually hurt him. But it seems that the danger has passed...for now. If he’s in pain, he isn’t showing it.

“Come,” he says. “Let us make sure we’re a safe distance from the city. Just in case.”

His words don't inspire confidence, but you say nothing. You merely follow him back to your camp further up hillside. You know he has work to do.

———

You give him time. That’s all he asked for. Time to concentrate on the magic. Time to manipulate threads of the Weave. The Mystran Weave and the Karsite Weave. Sometimes you think you understand what he’s doing, but more often than not, you don’t. The magic he is performing is beyond your comprehension, guided by notes in the Annals of Karsus which lays open in front of him. You suspect some of it comes innately to him, an understanding born from carrying Netherese magic for so long. The rest must come from Karsus himself, written down as instructions or incantations. You give up trying to understand and simply make yourself useful. Or you try to, anyway.

All you can really do is linger nearby, keeping an eye out for anything that might interrupt his work. You barely interrupt him yourself, save to place some food and water near him with a soft reminder that he needs to eat to keep his energy up. He’s not a god yet, you tease, but the words taste sour on your tongue.

Yet. But soon.

You don’t feel ready for it. You know it’ll only be temporary. You hope so, anyway. But you’re still not ready.

The day passes by without you noticing. Gale sits with the crown, working, weaving, an illuminated aura around him filled with heavy magic. You leave him to his work as the sun moves slowly overhead toward the horizon, painting the sky in tones of orange, red, and purple. You lay down to watch the swirls of violet and indigo magic that gather around him as night falls, until in your exhaustion, you close your eyes for a moment to rest.

You don’t know when you drifted off to sleep, but you’re awoken in the early hours of the morning by his hand on your shoulder. You stir, blinking groggily up at him.

“It’s time,” he says softly. He helps you sit up, hands lingering on your arms, your hands. The crown isn’t with him, but sits on top of his pack several feet away. “I’ve done all I can. The stones and the crown are together again. Functionally the crown is complete, but…there is one last step I need to take.”

He kneels in front of you, dark eyes searching your face in the dim firelight. No, you realize. Memorizing. You feel a sudden knot in your throat and though you are seated safely on the ground, it feels as though a yawning void is opening up around you, threatening to swallow you whole should you tip too far to one side.

This feels like a goodbye.

“Once I put on the crown, the magic of the orb will finally combine with that of the crown. And I will…change,” he explains quietly, while you try to calm the surge of fear that grips your heart. “The magic of the crown and orb will become one and give me the power at last to meet with Mystra as an equal.”

An equal. He doesn’t say as a god. But you both know the truth.

You can scarcely breathe. You want to trust him. You want so desperately to believe in him. And he is looking at you so lovingly, but the very air seems tinged with sorrow. Nothing is certain. Nothing save his love for you, and even then, the tiniest doubt worms its way into your head and your heart.

Once he is a god…will he even remember to come back to you?

“And then?” you ask, your voice no more than a whisper.

“And then…I will hand the crown over to Mystra. And hope she keeps her word.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I trust you, my love.” You use the words, saying them out loud, to dispel your doubts and fears. You do trust him. With your life, with your heart, with your all.

If only you could trust Mystra. Can she be trusted to cure him? Can she be trusted to let him return? And if he does return, can she be trusted to let him return unchanged? Chosen or not, will he still be Gale Dekarios, the man you love? You don’t know. But you hope so.

He smiles at you and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, his fingertips trailing along the line of your jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leans in for a kiss and you, selfishly, wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly to you as your lips move against his, wanting to never let go. You rise to your knees, following him as he tries to pull away, kissing him deeply, tangling your fingers in his hair, until at last you are both breathless and you have to hide your face in his shoulder. You cling to him, reluctant to let him go just yet.

“Just come back to me,” you whisper. “Whatever happens.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel the bob of his throat as he swallows with difficulty. He strokes your hair and your back, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your head. You can feel it in every touch and breath he takes. He doesn’t want to let go yet either. 

“I will, my love,” he whispers back. “I swear it.”

It’s enough for now. It has to be. You could delay this day for a thousand days and still never be ready to let him go. But you have to. If he wants to be whole again, free of the orb, perhaps even free of Mystra…he has to do this.

You reluctantly loosen your hold on him and sit back on your heels, meeting his dark-eyed gaze in the early hours of the morning. He takes your hands and lifts them to his lips, brushing kisses against your knuckles, turning your hands over to kiss the center of your palms. Each touch of his lips to your skin is a reverent confession of love and longing and it only makes your heart ache more.

Please don’t let this be goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he says.

You cradle his cheek in your hand, gazing earnestly at him, soaking in every detail of his handsome face, committing it all to memory. “I will, my love. I swear it.”

He smiles at you then, full of love and happiness. He steals one last kiss from your lips before finally pulling away and standing, taking several steps back.

You stand too, preparing yourself for what is about to happen, even though you scarcely have any idea. You expect some of what you expected before, with light shows and waves of magic at best, disintegration and death at the worst, but now it feels even more real. Even more likely. You don’t know what will happen, so you brace yourself for the worst, heart pounding in your throat, gut churning with dread, and hope, desperately hope, for the best, even though you don’t know what that will look like.

You hold your breath as he moves several paces away from you and bends to pick up the crown. This image, too, you commit to memory. The way he looks illuminated by the firelight, the lights of the city glimmering behind and below him, the stars glittering above him. The sight of him with the crown in his hands, contemplating it with an expression of deep gravity. The crown looks small and harmless, despite the sharp curls and the soft glow of the purple, orange, and pink Netherstones that are now set once more in the bronze. But he looks serious, regal even, with it cradled in his hands. Like a king mulling over the weight of his position and the choices that lay ahead. He is beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful. You wish this moment could stretch on forever, if only because it means not losing him to the crown. To godhood.

He turns to give you one last lingering look, your eyes meeting over the distance between you, before he slowly raises the crown to his head and settles it over his brown and gray locks.

The effect is instantaneous. A blast of magic blows outward from him, kicking up wind and dust and flashing bright enough to rival the sun. You cover your eyes, shielding your face, the light blinding you. Suddenly the air feels electric, tasting of metal and ozone, as though you’re about to be struck by lightning at any second. Wind swirls around you, picking up speed, a cyclone of power and magic with you caught in the edges. You struggle to stay on your feet, your body resisting the pull into the vortex. What little you can see is naught but a haze of magic, purple, blue, and inky black, rushing around you and mixing with the wind. Threads of blue and silver lightning dance around you, passing close enough to make your hair stand on end, shocking you when you take an unsteady step backward. The vortex of wind, lightning, and magic threatens to suck the very air from your lungs until, with crack like thunder, everything around you stops.

The air grows still. It is as though you suspended in time. Held fast by magic. Your ears are ringing with the sudden silence.

You cautiously lower your hand. You have to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, the sight of Gale causes a flurry of emotions within you.

He stands before you as something…more. A god in all but name. He’s taller, you swear he must be, or else his very presence makes him seem bigger. His skin has turned a shade of hard silver, his hair ashen gray. The mark of the orb stands out in stark black on his chest and when he turns his head to examine his hands, his body, you see splintered blue lightning crackling at his temples and down the sides of his face. His brown eyes now glow blue-white with magic, any trace of his former warmth consumed by the light of the power within him. He’s striking, awe-inspiring…

And you can’t help but fear him, just a little. 

On instinct you have the compulsion to kneel, but you don’t. You force yourself to stay on your feet and look at him, really look at him, and try to find the man you love behind this new godly veneer. He has to be in there somewhere. He has to be.

“Amazing,” he murmurs, and his voice is layered two or three times over with a strange echo, one that gives you unpleasant shivers. Even his voice carries tiny waves of power. You already miss the warm tones of his mortal voice with its Waterdhavian accent.

He flexes his hands, raising them before his face, his expression one of wonder and awe. With but a gesture, he summons threads of the Weave together in glyphs and effects you can barely make sense of, though you feel the thrum of magic deep in your chest and know, instinctively, that he is capable of snapping your mind with a thought or destroying you with a word. He smiles, and the effect is strange. He looks like himself but he doesn’t. Something about it seems wrong to you. Uncanny. Familiar and unfamiliar.

The pit of dread in your stomach grows.

But then he catches sight of you, waiting, watching breathlessly, nervously, hoping that he’ll remember his promise to you. His smile fades and for the briefest moment you catch a glimpse of the man you love. Even his blue-white eyes, shining eerily from his familiar face, can’t hide the love he has for you.

He lowers his hands to his sides. “It is done. The crown is fully restored once more.”

You nod. You haven’t the faintest clue what to say next. You’re still trying to make sense of the man-god before you.

He smiles again, and something about it is both patronizing, as though he pities you for not understanding, and sincere, an echo of his mortal kindness and patience. He presses a hand to his chest. “Well, I’d best be off then.”

“Wait—” You reach out as if to stop him and he pauses. Your hand hovers uncertainly in the air before you lower it to your side. "One last kiss, before you go. Please."

His smile softens. "I can deny you nothing, my love," he murmurs. He crosses the distance between you with a strange grace he didn't have before. Before he was elegant, but at times a little awkward. None of the awkwardness remains in him now.

You look up as he stops in front of you, his fingers curling beneath your chin the way he does when he wants to lift your face or guide your lips to his. You stare into his glowing eyes a moment before letting your eyes flutter closed. His lips touch yours...and it's different.

There's a magnetism there now that wasn't there before. You seem drawn in as if by gravity. He tastes of metal and magic, his skin cold but not unyielding. Your lips tingle with each kiss and the moment you seek to deepen the kiss—you gasp as a blue electric shock drives your mouths apart, your teeth practically rattling, your lips suddenly hot, almost burned. You press a hand to your mouth, looking up at him in shock, but he's just as surprised as you are. He seems unharmed, despite the tiny sparks of white-blue lightning still skittering over his lips.

"Ah...what an interesting side effect," he says, touching his hand to his mouth. The lightning calms. "Are you all right?"

You nod, rubbing your lips lightly as the numbness from the shock begins to subside and the tingling begins to fade. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Still, you're wary of trying it again.

He watches you, looking torn, before a new resolve settles his features. "Then I suppose that is my signal to go. The sooner I depart, the sooner I can return." He takes your hand carefully, moving it away from your face, and presses a cautious kiss to the back of your hand. His lips impart another, smaller shock to your skin, but this time you're ready for it. Your fingertips go a little numb, but you manage not to wince.

"Wait for me, my love," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I won’t be long."

You step back, giving him room to do whatever he needs to do, and watch as he begins to glow, brighter than your eyes can stand. You keep your gaze on his until the very last second, when the light grows too bright to stare at. You blink—and then he’s gone, disappearing in a shower of starlight that fades too quickly.

You are left alone in the cool night, with naught but a dying fire for company. 

———

You don’t sleep. You barely bring yourself to tend to the dying embers of your campfire and stoke it back into warm flames. After that, all you can do is sit.

And wait.

And wonder.

And pray.

“Come back to me, my love,” you whisper into the cool night air.  "Please."

You half-wonder if he can hear you. If, on some level, you’re praying to him, the newest of the gods. You don’t know if that thought comforts you or worsens your dread. How does he think of you now, now that his mind is that of a god, capable of seeing beyond the constraints of a mortal’s limited view? If he hears your prayers, does he think less of you, or love you more? Will he remember his promise, or will the power he now holds tempt him to break it? You want to have faith in him—you do have faith in him—but doubt creeps in despite your best efforts.

Come back to me.

You recall what it was like to wait for him at Mystra’s shrine at the Stormshore Tabernacle. How he had explained that time runs differently in the Outer Planes. How he would only be gone for a moment. Each second that had ticked by during that time felt like a year.

Now, sitting on the hillside, every second that passes feels like an eternity.

The fire crackles. The lights of the city begin to dim. One by one the stars fade out, hiding from view as the black of night begins to lighten into the blue hues of pre-dawn. And still, he isn’t back.

Wait for me, he said. And you will. You’ll wait as long as you have to.

But what if…?

No. You can’t bring yourself to put your fears into words anymore. Doing so will only make them seem more real. More feasible. There could be a thousand explanations for why he isn’t back quickly. You just have to have faith in him.

You get up and begin to pace. You start breaking little sticks and twigs into tiny pieces to feed to the fire, piece by tiny piece, just for something to do with your hands. You pluck blades of grass one by one or count the stars you can see. And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Your thoughts are your own worst enemy and you wish you had called an ally to come and sit with you. Even Scratch with his favorite ball would have been enough to quiet your heart and mind. But instead, you sit alone, the crackle of a fire the only sound to break the silence.

Your eyelids are heavy now and your body longs to drag you down into slumber, but you resist. You want to be there when he comes back. If he comes back. When he comes back.

You get up to pace again, rubbing warmth into your stiff fingers, amusing yourself with memories of him. His smile. His sly jests and silly puns. His hands on your body and his body against yours, yours against his. The smell of him, as much as you can remember. The way he looked during battles, magic crackling and swirling around him. The way he looked in your bed, fast asleep. Gale Dekarios in all his mortal glory, the man you fell in love with. The man you wish was at your side once more. 

Gods, but you miss him. You press your hands to your chest, feeling your heart beat beneath your palms. What is taking so long?

The first hints of pink and orange appear on the horizon as you turn to pace away from the fire again, your steps wearing a noticeable path through the grass. At this rate, you fear the sun will arrive before your love does. 

You contemplate how you’re supposed to face the whole of a new day alone when a flash of light illuminates the darkness behind you. You whirl, heart racing, to see a shower of starlight once more—and out of it steps Gale.

Mortal. Human. Alive.

“Gale!”

You fly into his arms, which he is already holding out wide for you, nearly toppling you both into the ground with the force of your embrace. You both stagger, but you don’t let go, and his arms around you are as fierce in their hold on you as yours are around him. He practically lifts you off your feet. You can’t put into words how much it means to you that he’s solid your arms—warm, breathing, alive in your arms.

“You’re back,” you gasp, the tears in your eyes and clogging your throat making it difficult to speak. You don’t want to sob and make it seem like you doubted him, but the emotions welling up inside you are hard to suppress. “You came back.”

“Of course, my love,” he says soothingly, not yet relinquishing his hold of you. “You are everything to me. I could do nothing else.”

You untangle yourself from him to wipe the tears from your face and look at him, looking for any changes wrought by his visit to the Outer Planes or from his brief time at godhood. He looks like himself again, his lightly tanned skin flush with warmth and love, his dark brown eyes as rich and deep as ever. You comb your fingers through his soft hair, once more brown and shot through with hints of gray, rather than all over ashen as it was a while ago. Your fingers linger on his cheek, noticing for the first time that the dark vein-like threads that trailed from his eye to his chest are no longer visible. 

The mark of the orb is gone.

In its place are a series of faint scars in the same threads and shapes as the old mark, appearing just below his jaw and flowing down to form a circle over his chest. The tattoo-like color has faded away entirely and there is no dark bruise at the center of the circular marking. Any trace of Netherese magic is gone, leaving behind little more than scars faint enough to be missed by any who are not actively searching for them.

You trace the circular scar lightly with the tips of your fingers. “Does this mean…?”

“It does,” he says, pressing his hand over yours so that both of your hands are pressed flat to his chest. You feel his heart beating, his pulse perhaps a little elevated, but every beat strong and vibrant. “Mystra has cured me of the orb. Completely.”

You want to hate her, and perhaps you still do, and always will on some level. But in that moment you’re grateful and relieved too. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight, overwhelmed with happiness and relief and joy. Your love is cured at last. The threat of losing him to Netherese magic is at last put to rest. He is whole again. Restored. 

And he is yours. Not hers.

As dawn colors the sky overhead and spills pink-golden light over the both of you, you kiss him, reveling in the taste of him, in the warmth and weight of him, in his hands on you. Not a single spark of lightning threatens to drive you apart, so you deepen your kisses as much as you please. You simultaneously want to push him down into the grass and make love to him there and kiss him for an eternity you know you both don’t have and simply gaze at him in awe and wonder that even while he had godhood in grasp and a crown on his head, he gave it all up for you.

He gave up godhood for you.

You never realized you could love him more than you already did. But you do. Your every heartbeat sings love for him.

You lose track of time kissing him. It could be moments or hours. You don’t know nor do you care. But at last, when you finally pull away from him, it takes you a second to remember where you are, standing out on the hillside across the river from the city. The sun is rising over the horizon now, painting the world in gold and shifting the hue of the sky to a beautiful, cloudless blue. A new day is beginning. 

A whole future awaits. And it is yours to shape with your love at your side.

“What’s next, my love?” you ask. “Now that we have everything we both want.”

“Next? For us?” He chuckles and takes your hand, bringing it up to press a tiny kiss on your empty ring finger. “If you still want me, I believe we have a wedding to plan.”

“I will always want you, Gale Dekarios. Now and forever.”

“Is that a yes to planning the wedding? Because I’ll have you know that Waterdhavian weddings are quite the large-scale affair.”

You laugh, his humor clearing the air like the sunlight warming away the fog of a morning and the dew on the grass. “Yes. Come on, let’s find some food to eat and get started. I can’t wait to begin a new life together with you.”

“My love, that new life starts now,” he says, bringing you in for another kiss. You smile against his lips and allow yourself to be corrected. He is right, of course.

Your new life with him begins now.

[marstons-angel]

[ cage training | astarion ancunin ]

✧ tags : muzzles, bdsm, sub!astarion, gender neutral + dom!reader, reader is strong (offers to carry him), dirty talk, orgasm control, feeding (?), cutting (for blood), anal (m!recieving), service dom reader, petnames (my star for astarion) a lot of alluding to hunger, more erotica than smut but 18+

✧ wc : 4.8k (what if all just kill ourselves)

✧ a/n : i dont even like this guy like this im just mentally ill about submissive men. also this is a very "read whats on the tin and make good choices" sort of fic.. i know this kind of play might be controversial for beloved white boy but they have a very loving dynamic Okay. Alright. its about Love.

ALSO. this is ASTARION FOCUSED. so reader doesn't cum (though astarion makes up for it as implied)

this is a fluke fic i cannot recommend following me for this guy!!!written mostly for a friend. had a lot of fun with this though!!!

✧ synopsis : astarion relearns manners and discipline. he's rewarded for his valiant efforts.

He comes to you wounded. Save from the scar on the curve of his spine, it's not a physical wound.

Astarion approached you like a caged lion, a circus animal - a predator paraded like a house cat who has only just remembered his teeth. That's why your empathy extended to his greed even when it caused him to wear the worst of himself. You don't think Astarion has ever understood the fact that he's hungry. He's always hungry.

He inhabits a body pushed to failure. His hunger cues are almost as ruined as he.

Like an animal in captivity, every choice he might've had to make slipped between his fingers for many years. How to live, how to hunt. Hunger is the hardest to remember, though it leaves the longest impression. It's a condition of a wounded mind. He had long since forgotten a body that knows a need stronger than staying alive.

He always waited for the violent gnawing to set in, the kind that can be ignored until it can't.

And so, his hunger became his ruin, became his new captor. Astarion met you in the midst of that delirium the first time

Once you let a captive predator free, you've damned it. A caged lion cannot become uncaged. Survival instinct has all but degraded to nothing, leaving only a wounded animal in its place.

You must nurse it to health. Care for it as it renavigates the world.

Curb its hunger when it threatens to wreak havoc.

Sanctuary. Regiment. Retraining.

It's easy enough to discern what he needs. All tender with wounds that need to be licked.

The muzzle is fitted. A gesture of glimmering gold adoration among the steely black of whips and chains.

Astarion is beautiful. Tenfold on his knees.

The leather straps pull back slight against his skin, three in total clipped together at the back of his skull. The thickest strap flattens sweet white curls, thinner ones curved around his ears and jaw.

The structured leather cage, reinforced with metal, rests over his nose and mouth. It fits better than you could've hoped. There's a collar around his neck to match it, with a weighted chain in your hand. He's looking up at you with a softened gaze, ruby red and lidded. Needy.

The velvet of the loveseat dips comfortably under your weight as you sit. Astarion stays where he is. He's as pleasant as he's capable of being, hopeful as he scoots in closer to you.

He succeeds in acting cute, naturally talented in the art of being appealing. He scoots himself close to your legs and positions himself to rest his chin on the edge of your knee.

You meet his eyes amused. You let your hand brush along the pointed shell of his ear. Little goosebumps form in the wake of your touch.

"You should know better by now that those sorts of tricks don't work on me, hm?"

He huffs. "Well that's not true. They usually do work on you. Rather well, I would say."

You pause, taken aback, before relenting with a laugh His pout endears you. You let your eyes narrow a bit in knowing.

"Not like this though. You know that very well."

His frown deepens. You really do adore him. He taps his forehead against your leg as you bite back a smile, his muzzle making the touch briefer than he'd prefer.

"Gods. Of course I know but this, this is torture, darling."

Pleasant and noncommittal, your hand cups his nape. You pet him wherever you can reach, his head before slipping along his shoulder and against your lap. You settle at his back, tracing over raised scars.

A sorrowful hum leaves your lips. Neither of you believe it.

"Torture? Perhaps I've gotten too soft if this is torture."

"Oh you're so awful," He huffs, biting his tongue and choosing to rest against your leg in frustration for a while longer. "Sure, fine - torture is too perfunctory. But it's been terribly difficult! Where is your sympathy."

"What's difficult, Astarion?"

You're being cheeky asking him. After all your rules have been clear and reinforced well for the two tendays that have passed. You've been working hard on reteaching him patience. He used to be so patient, back when you were exploring and unsettled but you've let him take too much and now he'll interrupt you at any moment just to get what he needs.

(Astarion leans on you for guidance. Of course, he has himself - has his freedom that he took with bloodied hands and a broken heart. There’s many choices that he’s able to make for himself, some of them he can’t explain even to you. Whatever they are, they’re his to make and yours to support. 

It’s different though. Not having a choice, and someone making choices for him out of something inscrutable. You don’t bed Astarion until you fulfill the promise of killing his master. More accurately, you don’t lay so much as a hand on him. Only intimate, sparse touches. Only love. Only patience.

You’re disinterested in only having his body. His heart, and his mind, and his very soul - all of it. You want to grasp them so firmly and never let go. The chains and leashing and discipline are testament to what you want most of Astarion - and that’s all of him. You want to enrich him in every conceivable way.  Astarion deserves the granular finery of thoughtful guidance more than anyone. He's brighter when he feels special, after all. 

You’ve broken down the walls between you with a closed fist for this purpose - a not so quiet ask to love him by opening your hand. He’s given you the honor to let you think and act for him so he doesn’t have too. Duty binds you to reteaching him virtue.

It's a privilege to think for him. To wipe his bloodied mouth and care for his appearance prim and his mind sharp. No longer a matted beast but a loved, loved little vampire in the crook of your arms 

You’re not strict to no end. You'd rip the Astral Planes apart in search of what he desires, should he ask it of you, after all. 

Only the best for your immortal love. )

His neediness makes him more misbehaving. He’s been scaring away anyone who looks at you too long for business and otherwise, unable to keep his hand away from between your legs or his head in your lap. 

"Not letting me drink your blood for two tendays is unreasonable enough but on top of that," He's exasperated just explaining the dilemma to you. His muzzle is cool against your pant leg. "On top of that I'm not even allowed any relief. Despite all of your cruelty, you wicked thing. I never took you for such a sadist."

He scoffs. There's poorly masked lust in the last sentence. You stop yourself from smiling.

"Sadist? Really? I don't see it that way. Seeing you act so desperately all this time and keeping my hands neat at my sides... I'm a paragon of patience." You pull on the leash in your hand but don't pull him forward - though you tighten your grip. "It's…good to lead by example."

Excitement flashes over his face in a short burst. It's so brilliant you swear his eyes look white instead of red.

"You cheeky little—" He huffs at you. You smile warmly as he starts to curl in on himself. He already knows how to get himself what he wants. 

He gives up on pretenses. Briefly, just to beg, a monumentally hard thing. "Please. I can't take a minute more of this."

There's a croak to his voice. He has a hard time covering its tracks, even with his propensity for theatrics.

His throat is so thick with want. Something ripping at the seams of him and begging to be released.

"You've done well if it helps, but" You praise. He preens. Instantly. He squirms and wiggles around but doesn't move much more than that. "You act like I don't feed you."

"It is not the same, my love. You're well aware."

You ignore him.

"I even bring you human blood, don't I?" You tease, and his frustration darkens him. "I brought a beautiful and fresh body to drain just yesterday."

"Yes but," His hands turn to tight fists. He isn't sure what he wants to do with himself. You pet him a little more. "It's not the same, damn it. I want yours. Just yours. Just you,"

He adds the last bit quieter than the rest. Your expression is unchanged and cool though your heart might give you away with how hard it pounds.

"Just mine?" You tease. tugging at this leash a little. He makes a face like he's infuriated, a poor mask for embarrassment that endears you even more."Is that flattery?"

You're being a little mean this time. You'll make it up to him. He almost panics before he realizes just that.

"Gods you're insufferable," He complains with no bite. He's hoping for mercy you truly have no desire to give him. "You know that it's not."

"You speak so beautifully it sounds like it. Such sweet little noises you can make."

You let the heel of your boot press along Astarion's crotch. He makes one for you, involuntary - skin pink and sinful.

"See? How pretty."

Astarion is easy to bring to ruin as is. His own snark and disobedience is a poor disguise for that truth. A little tenderness and honesty makes him fall apart. Flirting back with Astarion goads him, though. Fuels his desire to win one over you. If you meet his cheekiness with more cheekiness, he won't relent at all.

Normally that kind of response would make him nip at you. It speaks to his desperation that it doesn't. That instead of making his own snarky remark, he tenses. A deep, shaky little breath. You could tip him over the edge through his clothes at this rate.

You're not so cruel. Not for today, at least.

"Sit up straight."

He does so without protest. You place a hand on his shoulder, the other one tight around the chain of his leash. Carefully, you drag your sharp nails down the front of his chest - leaving light pinkish marks on the pale skin. Over and over and over in light drags. His chest raises under the gesture, your nails scratching soft against his nipples.

"Hng," His voice is feather light. He's trembling at the slightest touch. His spine arches like he's trying to get more friction. "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

You let your palm drag down the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping at his pants. His cock twitches hard against the seam of his pants. You let a finger pull into the waistband, but don't go any farther.

"Not sure," You let the leash drop into your lap. You threaten to pull them down, but don't. Expression blank, you tilt your head to one side. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"My lesson," He repeats sarcastically. You feign innocence as you nod. "Really, darling?"

"I'm not so much of a tyrant," You let go, letting your hand cup the outline of his hard cock. "To torture you without reason, right? So what have we practiced?"

He stares. It must really be getting to him. "Patience."

"Yes. I ask you to be patient. Never kind, but patient. Because I'll give you anything you ask for if you wait. Things are better when you wait for them, right?"

He frowns in annoyance and disbelief. He's exasperated, rightfully - because you are messing with him. Just a little. "Right."

You squeeze his cock tighter. He hisses immediately, grinding into the touch. You blow hot air against his ticklish skin, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"So, have you learned your lesson?"

Your grip goes tight. Astarion craves the touch so badly. You doubt he's ever gone so long without anything at all - if the desperation he's rutting his hips with is anything to go by. His head drops heavy from his shoulders, his hands on the edge of the couch gripping for his life. Manicured nails digging into the cushion like it will save him. His voice is weary.

"Y-," He shudders but you don't let go. "Yes, I'm very sure I have."

"Oh, you're sure."

You enjoy bullying him. At a certain point, it bares itself out against all your own evading. Astarion knows it well enough, though normally it's through less truly intolerable means. Keeping him inside you soft or scraping orgasms one after another until he's too stupid too talk are favored between you.

Astarion likes being given a hard time, in general though. You're made for each other.

"Pretty little thing aren't you, my love?" You tell him, suddenly warmed. You miss the tadpole sometimes. If you could touch his mind right now, you would. Violate his thoughts with your own wants. You settle for a long stare. "So sweet,"

The anticipation makes his breath hitch. He goes completely limp in your grasp, weak and desperate. The weight of it all cracks and he looks up. His eyes glass over.

He shatters under his own need. "For the love of—please. I c-cant, I need to-"

"Shh." You quell him with a tender pet to his head. "You're looking at me so pitifully. Is it starting to be too much?"

He just nods. Your smile widens.

"You've been very patient for these two tendays, haven't you?" You lay it on thick. This is the part you like. You watch as Astarion goes boneless, the words reaching so deep into him he can do little more than collapse himself into your lap. You release all grips of him and let him hold against you soothingly, cling to your legs. "A very, very good boy for all this time. You're quite capable of it when you need to be, aren't you?"

He doesn't reply, but you can feel him melt into you further. For a minute you think you've broken him until you hear him mutter the softest yes you've ever heard.

(Astarion is not so easy to break, of course. And not so keen on opening up the softened wells of his heart to any stranger.

But he does break for you, and gods haven't you worked hard for that? It's a testament to all you've poured into him. Like you know all the right buttons to split him open tenderly.

And he lets you look. Touch and feel and cover your fingers with blood. He trusts you to stitch him closed.)

"Yes, that's right. You've learned your lesson now, and you're going to be proper and well-behaved because that's what good boys do. And Astarion is a very good boy. My very, very good boy."

He picks his head to look at you properly. He's darling. His face is flush, mouth turned into a soft pout and utterly, utterly desperate. His mouth is bitten, indented holes in soft lips.

"Yes, I'm. Please. I want you to touch me."

You aren't sure what you want to start with. He's being needy and you could almost feel guilty.

You pick up something from your side. A dagger from your days of travel. You unsheath it quickly, and let the blade cut along the tip of your middle finger. The blood comes quickly after, ruby red and thick. 

Astarion goes wide eyed. He’s hungry, so hungry - like he always is. But there’s something defeated in the ways he hesitates that make you relish. You push your finger through the cage of his muzzle and tilt your head. There’s mirth in your eyes.

“Go on,” You say, tease, mock maybe. “Eat.” 

He abandons restraint. All of it. You don’t make him work more for it. You push your finger down close enough for his mouth to lick at your wound and let your hand rest on the cage. He can’t get what he’s craving like this. The bone deep sensation starts to claw at him, a soft whimper tucked in the back of his throat.  

More. He wants more. Of course he wants more. 

“You look drunk.” You say, and there’s sharpness to your words. The ways in which Astarion is erotic have nothing to do with his theatrics. He is appealing when he’s giving up on everything but what he wants, always has been. “Have you missed it that much?” 

“Yes.” He supplements, letting his tongue run over “More.” 

You pull your hand away. “Take your clothes off.” 

You watch Astarion scramble to stand. You bring your dagger with you then reach over to the table beside you. Scented oils roll around in the drawer. You’re careful with the blade as you fish out a bottle of it, taking it in your hands. Astarion stands naked, the heavy chain of his leash brushing against his skin. 

“Kneel and lean on the couch, my love.” 

Astarion is the picture of obedience. He leans on his elbows on the couch seats, with his legs spread apart, leash in a pool next to him as he folds his arms and tucks his face. You stand on your knees behind him, admiring his back in the lowlights. 

Your hands rest on his thighs as you kiss up his spine. Small, short kisses all the way until you’ve reached the back of his neck. Your lips brush his nape, nose nudging against the metal of his muzzle. 

Something overwhelms you. Addicting, euphoric as your clothed body drapes around Astarion, free hand on his waist - moving up his stomach to toy with his nipples. It thrums through you, listening to the ragged anticipation and distraught way he moves. Against you, against everything. Aching for touch. 

You feel it overwhelmingly as you close in on his ear. Astarion huffs, long panting breaths. He needs this.

“Look at how naturally you yield to me now,” You all be coo. Astarion groans. Shuddering, your hand slides around his narrow waist and wraps a fist around his cock. He gasps. “You’ve become so pliable, so needy. But you know my star, I quite like when you’re needy.”

He hiccups and shivers and whines. “You’re the prettiest when you behave like the sweet little thing you can be, like I know you are. When you listen and yield and let me adore you in all the right ways. Such a sweet boy you can be, if only you let yourself.” 

“Darling,” His voice cracks. There’s a helpless quality to it. A little more, that’s all you need. “I — you —” 

You pull back and straighten your voice out, taking off Astarions muzzle after the valiant efforts he’s been making to wear it. It falls onto the couch unceremoniously. 

“I’m saying, well done Astarion. I’ll reward you for all that effort. I’ll slash another scar in my hand for you to drink from and then again in the evening when I’ve recovered,” You lean back on your legs as you make promises on your own words. “I’ll bleed for you until you’ve sated yourself and let you get drunk on it. Then, when you’re malleable, I’ll fuck you. Again and again and again until you’ve all but forgotten yourself. All but forgotten who exactly you behave for.” 

You open the oil and let it drip onto his back, watching mesmerized as it slips against every curve and crevice. When there’s enough to make opening him up easy, you stop and reach for your dagger.

The weapon  slashes over the same wound. You’ve done this tens of times now. You don’t let the scars heal with a potion or some kind of spell. Astarion is far from the comfort of romance, but it is its own promise. Your scar is his.

 The pain is brief, but it’s enough to feel it. You don’t flinch, though. When the blood finally seeps from it, you find yourself over Astarions back once again. 

You let your bleeding palms clamp over his mouth. It’s as close to sacred as you can forge between you. Astarion moans. It is shameless. Pitchy, high with want and utterly broken. He laps at the blood like a dog, his tongue sharp against the familiar wound. You can feel his body twitch beneath you, the muffled sounds of his voice.

There is no performance in that kind of pleasure, but the amount of arousal that spikes Astarion’s whole body never fails to surprise you. 

When he’s feeding from you, you busy your other hand with fucking him open on your fingers. Your dominant hand slips down the smooth curve of his spine, oiled skin soft and cool under your palms. He’s built like a dancer, beautiful curves. He’s a little softer now that he eats well. It looks good on him. 

You let your middle finger brush over his hole, relishing in the soft gasp he lets out as you do. Astarion’s aroused enough to accommodate you as you circle it. The tight ring of muscle is familiar, and welcoming to your touch. You don’t need to teach Astarion to breathe, don’t need to remind him of it. You can feel his whole body push along your hands as if urging you towards him. You’re too delicate about the matter for his time. 

Astarion is warmer inside than he is out. It fascinates you, makes your own stomach churn with want as your middle finger curves slowly. You pump in short motions until the resistance is all but gone. When you’ve made it as far as the knuckle of your middle finger, you start to search. You curl and press yourself against soft insides, search and search for what you’re looking for. 

Astarion lurches forward when you find it. The most pitiful little moan you’ve ever heard squeaks out from his lips, against your hand.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Right there?” 

Astarion makes noncommittal noises as you repeat the process again. Another finger, your ringer - spreading him open. Tight hole giving into your touch, filling him. Your mouth kisses the skin that you can reach. You peck and bite along the curve of his shoulders and all over his back as your ring finger penetrates him. His insides soften as you find your pace. 

You see his hands start to fidget, but you chide him before he can do it. 

“Not yet. You can touch yourself when I tell you too. Not before.” 

 Astarion needs more than this. You’ll give it to him, but patience is the virtue here. 

You don’t know how long that’s going to stick though. The way Astarion is shaking underneath doesn’t give you confidence he’s going to hold out long enough for you to take him apart like you want. You’ll give him something proper later, when he’s not so pent you think the slight brush of skin could make him cum. 

You do, desperately, want to see Astarion cum. But it has to be done the right way, or everything would go to waste in a single moment. You fuck him open on your fingers with a pinpoint pressure and accuracy, gauging his every move with the little gestures of his body. You know perfectly, know every inch of him inside and out like a book you’ve read page to page with the corners turned. The way he sways, lays intimately on the edge of cumming but never quite pushing himself over the finish line, speaks to that.

That, and the way he licks the blood from your palm like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. You can feel it, how messy it is - lapping at the split wound. Sharp unruly teeth digging into your skin, the soft breath of his nose tickling your hand as you cup his mouth. He licks so fervently, like it’s mouthwatering enough to die for. 

It doesn’t help the arousal between your legs. It’d be damning for him to know how affected you are by this. By him. 

“My beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick with desire. You can’t help yourself, the low possession laced it in. “Fucking perfect,” 

“My love,” The words muffle against your palm. You move your hand away to let him speak and his face moves instinctually to bury himself back in it. “P-please. Let me touch myself, it aches,” 

You weigh it for a minute, watching his body lurch forward as you fingerfuck him. You make a noise in the back of your throat, dropping your forehead against his spine - adrenaline making sweat drip down the crown of your head. 

“Poor thing. Aches does it? Touch yourself for me, Astarion. I want to see you make a mess.” 

He groans, hands moving immediately to fist his cock. You can hear it, the sound of him fucking his own fist like a wet, welcoming hole - cock wet and dripping with prespend. Astarions whole body starts to fall limp. His face pushed into the seat, little wet sobs spilling from his lips as he swears over and over. 

It doesn’t take any time for his body to give into the feeling of being pleasured from all angles. You feel his face nudge against your hand for blood as his muscles start to go tighter and tighter. 

“Shit,” He huffs, pushing himself back into your hands. “I’m going to cum.” 

You keep your other hand in place, pace steady. 

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, easy does it.”

It happens so quickly you’re not sure if you should be impressed or if you should laugh affectionately. You can feel it, the way his hips stutter to a stop, his whole body grinding against you and holding tight to whatever he can cling to for purchase. His body weakens under the weight of your own, going completely tight like a bowstring before falling utterly helpless. Astarion moans loud when he cums, thick white ropes of it dressing the upholstery of the couch and falling to the floor. It’s an impressive amount. Save for what lands on the velvet, it pools thick and heavy. There’s so much, it’s like he can’t stop cumming. At least a minute passes before the twitching ceases. 

He lays there, ragged and weightless and limp. You take your hand away from his mouth and slowly ease yourself out of him as he stays and catches his breath. You press soft, warm pecks up his spine. 

You move away from him to give him some space to breathe, sitting back criss-cross on the ground. Astarion has no intention of getting up on his own, though. Before you can make sense of it, he crawls over to you. He must be worn out, given how willingly he’s coming into your arms in pure exhaustion. His cock is spent, soft against his belly and pink. He’s still naked and leashed. 

Still needy, but the lust has subsided if only a little. Astarion seats himself between your open legs. You laugh lightly, letting him rest in your side - face in the crook of your neck in utter exhaustion. 

“Hero of Baldurs Gate this, savior of the city that. I know evil when I see it, darling. Just outright cruel.” 

You break out into a laugh at the change in behavior as he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are remarkably watery. 

“That claim is undermined by that mess you’ve made on the floor there. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

He almost looks embarrassed by it, a pinkish tint turning the tips of his ears bright. 

“You’ve given me two terrible choices. I say yes and you think it’s a clever idea to do it again or I say no and I never experience whatever that was again in my life. A lose-lose situation.” 

“So you did enjoy it,” You say warmly. Astarion scoffs but doesn’t protest. “I’m glad. You’re very attractive when you’re pitiful.” 

“What despicable taste. I’m beautiful irregardless.” 

You let your head bump against his, and Astarion half-heartedly returns the gesture. “That’s true. A sight for sore eyes as they say.” 

“If you’re true to your word then I’ve earned a little more than just one,” Astarion purrs. Before that, he examines your (still bleeding hand) and picks your palm up to kiss. You grin wildy at his tongue lapping over the wound. “And you’re properly pent up, aren’t you? Let's get this cleaned up and let the real fun begin.” 

“Aren’t you insatiable today? As you wish, my prince. We can move upstairs.” 

He bemoans this. “You’ll have to drag my undead body up there if you’re asking me to get on my own two feet.” 

“Or I could carry you like a bride.” 

“A bride? How ostentatious. I’ll allow it.” Astarion says, then adds more quietly. “But we can stay… here a little longer first.” 

You hum against his skin, peppering his face with soft kisses; he doesn't turn you away from the skinship, which you’re pleased by.  “Of course my love,” 

He lays in your arms quietly and the thought reaffirms itself. You’d do anything for him.

✧ a/n : no one is more upset by the length of this than me. trust and believe this. also sorry for the yapping i just... posting this is so foreboding. it feels like that picture of spongebob who puts his hands up so a car doesn't fall on him. i am Afraid.

maybe ill write a part two of him eating box or something. we'll see. anyway thanks for reading </3. please do rb if you enjoyed. so scared to be in the tags for this.

[adaptacy]

Gale has me in a chokehold, I love his nerdy ass. If you're accepting requests, can I request some angst but then fluff with him? It may just be my own insecure self, but what if his fem Tav still felt insecure and not worthy of him after he spoke to Mystra? Like she tries to smile and nod, but she's actually worried he still has feelings for Mystra?

hiii! so i wanted to actually get to this part before writing for it so i could experience full context instead of just watching a yt vid (200 hrs in the game and i *just* got there... albeit it was with durge tav in an evil playthru (one of like 4 playthrus i've started cause i have no self control), but i got there nonetheless) so sorry for taking a while!! but here you go ^^

Word count: 2k

"Back on mortal soil once more," he exhales, eyes slightly narrowed in a tense discomfort. He doesn't meet your eye, and his lips part in a doubtful smile, as if he isn't sure whether he's awake or experiencing some sort of dream. He blinks, and meets your gaze, his smile dimming – you’re not sure if it’s the result of a forced calmness, or a natural relaxation in his muscles. “I can’t believe I saw her– after all this time,” he nearly chuckles the statement out, and you suppress a cringe, desperately scanning his features for reassurance before you allow yourself to grow unreasonably anxious.

But he seems caught in a state of wonder, his eyes bearing an uncommon light in them – perhaps due to the astral scenery he just returned from, or, more likely, it could be an emotional occurrence. Either way, it stings, and you hate the way your stomach churns, hanging onto what feels like a thinning thread. He’s grown closer and closer to rejecting her, every new discovery being one more small, but necessary, push away from his faith, from any lingering feelings of affection for the goddess. 

You couldn’t help but feel as though this was a setback. That, maybe, seeing her again, speaking with her again – maybe it reminded him of a time that you knew he missed. A time that, prior to your relationship with him and a few important facts he’d learned about her, he spoke so incredibly fondly of. He stays quiet, pondering the conversation, and you only feel your fearful anticipation growing more with his silence.

In an effort to break it, you muster up enough courage to speak. “A little intimidating,” you try to chuckle, but it only comes out as a painfully stressed hum, followed shortly by an intense urge to withdraw from the conversation, but you manage to override your anxiety’s desires. 

Gale does manage to chuckle, again, nearly effortlessly – especially compared to your own failed attempt. “Powerful, wasn’t it? Magical, just– entirely magical,” he practically swoons, and you force a smile, tearing your gaze away from him. He continues speaking, and usually you’d be keen on listening to his every word, but you can’t help but tune him out. Even so, you can still hear the excitement in his tone, despite refusing to pick up on the words. 

You’re not sure how long he continues for, though you know it ends, because you feel fingers on your chin, and he angles your head slightly back towards him, forcing your attention back to him. He’s wearing a frown now, and you blink, pulling your head away from his touch. “Sorry. Just – not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? Damn it, I knew that meat platter was a foul idea. Tavern hardly held a shine, I’m hesitant to believe their appetizers were truly safe for consumption. We should return to camp.” He nods, lowering his hand and offering it to you, and although you feel bad for not disproving his assumptions, you take his hand and go along with the lie, walking back towards your camp. 

It isn’t a very long walk, which is most fortunate; you’re hardly eager to strike up conversation, and had it been any longer of a journey, you’re sure that Gale would question your silence. Eventually, you return, and the area is empty, save for the usual occupants that never really left camp. Everyone else was out either exploring the city, settling down for food, finding entertainment, or bargaining with merchants to pawn off the unnecessary equipment they’d picked up. 

Gale didn’t bother making a request or saying anything before immediately leading you to his tent, directing you to sit on one of the few cushions that littered the blue rug on the floor. You did as he asked, and he looked around the camp, focusing more on the area around Shadowheart’s tent, though his search for her was ultimately fruitless, so instead he knelt before you, the back of his hand pressing against your forehead. “Not particularly warm, certainly not alarmingly so – though I’m no medic, I do believe I’ve enough experience to deem you unafflicted by any fever. What are your symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” You repeat, and Gale squints, clicking his tongue.

“Mental fogginess,” he remarks, and you finally shake your head, looking off to the side.

“I’m not sick,” you confess, knowing that he’s bound to ask questions, but deciding you’d rather be honest than have him worry about your physical well-being. 

“Now, there’s no reason to hide it. I’m sure that even a divine being would have gotten some strand of illness from that – what was it? A space hamster? And a mighty undercooked one, at that. I’m merely glad you’re still conscious,” he teases, leaning forward and holding your chin, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

You pull back, shaking your head once more. “I’m serious. I’m not sick. I just – I don’t know,” you sigh, scooting back and frowning. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? All that stuff with Mystra?”

Gale eases back, reading your expression a second time to ensure you weren’t trying to deceive him. Once he’s sure, he lowers himself fully to his knees, and then grabs another cushion for himself to sit on. He thinks over your words, and ultimately nods. “Indeed. Rather unsettling. To now know that the weave I’ve had inside of me for so long is nothing more – and always has been nothing more – than a mystery to me, it’s… unsettling,” he repeats, bending a knee and placing his elbow on it, his thumb running over the hairs on his jaw. 

“She’s been lying to you,” you murmur, and Gale eyes you, his expression that of some internal conflict. A conflict you fear you may be losing, even if he’d never admit it to you.

“As sadistic as it may appear, she had her reasons. Reasons we may never grasp or understand, but reasons, I’m sure. It’s no matter. Granting my disease a name does little to change said disease – or the expectations that come along with it. If I please her, if I fulfill her request of me, I will be rid of it. Free. At last. Though her actions may seem tyrannical to most, you must understand that it is quite a generous offer she is granting me,” he explains, his head tilting as he watches your reaction, though you’re putting too much effort into disguising your true concerns for him to pick up on them.

“Are you going to give it to her?” You ask, silently pleading for a denial -- for a firm and unwavering ‘No.’

“Of course. I have to,” he chuckles nervously, and whatever hope may have been contained in your expression quickly fades, and you have to break eye contact with him. “My love, this may be my only means of safety. Of securing a future. Should I refuse her, my very life would be on the line. And the miracles that have kept this orb from rupturing thus far – Mystra’s miracles, might I add – I would be left completely without.” He reaches forward, taking a hold of your hands, and you begrudgingly look back at him. “How could I possibly deny the chance at a future with you? I would be a madman.”

His words ease you, even if the effect is incredibly slight. You squeeze his hands, and he squeezes back, his small smile brimming with hope. It’s a pleasant emotion to see him with – one that you haven’t truly seen before. The closest has been eagerness, such as the kind he displayed when you learned of, and eventually obtained, the very book that caused this meeting with his goddess. “What if she forgives you?” You whisper, your insecurity underlining every syllable, and if you weren’t so afraid, your shame would have surely manifested in the color on your cheeks. 

Gale pauses, his eyebrows pushing inward as he processes your words a few times over. “If she forgives me?”

“If she calls on you to be her chosen. If you give her the crown, and she excuses your disputes. I want a future with you too, I do. I just… fear a future haunted by her. I want you, exactly as you are.” You inhale, and it’s shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now. “If she forgives you, will you be at her beck and call?”

He smiles again, but it’s nearly a smile of pity. A smile that instills you with a pinch in your throat, daring you to cry. One of his hands slips out of yours, and for a moment, you believe that this is it – that he’ll confess his plans to return to her side, to embrace his faith once more, to leave you behind at the assurance of greener, holier, pastures. But instead, his hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and then holds the right side of your face, his hold warm and comforting. “Once I am cured, once all of this is over – the only person I wish to be ‘chosen’ by is you. I confess that, had I not met you, the outcome may be different.”

Despite the small, mildly reassured smile on your face, and your leaning into his palm, you still contain some worry for the future. And so, against the understanding that you should know better than to wonder, you ask “Different how?”

He sighs, squeezing your hand again. “Before the tadpoles, before you, before any of this – I had always believed that I’d never be free of her influence. She occupied my mind much like our little larva pilots do now. To control the weave – to channel and embrace the weave is to embrace Mystra. Pieces of her, at least. Though it’s hard to feel a piece of her and not reflect on a time when I could feel all of her. Had I any choice in the matter, I would remove her completely from my life. But I am no man without my past, and even less of one without the magic that I have been so consistently entwined with. And yet, it’s with you that I feel unburdened by her expectations, by her authority and judgment.” Gale leans forward, and you do too, your forehead against his. His eyes close, and yours do as well, merely enjoying the closeness, and the gentleness in his tone, the comfort that his words bring. “With you I forget my goddess. I forget my past, I forget my flaws, I forget my mistakes. I have a purpose now. One beyond being a vessel. One beyond being a subservient lapdog for the will of a deity.”

When you open your eyes, you find Gale’s open as well, and he watches your lips, debating something. You grant him a moment to think, and he decides to act, pulling you a little closer for a chaste kiss, allowing it to linger before he pulls back once more, the curl of his lips more assured now.

“I would suffer at the hands of her fate a thousand times over if it meant finding you again in just one life. You, dearest, are the one who my heart worships. Even if I speak the tongue of the weave or spin her spells, I know what love truly is – unparalleled, earnest, generous love – because of you, and only you. Should Mystra find herself munificent enough to shell out a fragment of forgiveness for me, she will, quite quickly, understand I have no interest in being her compliant plaything anew. If Elminster is a case that instills any flavor of wariness, I do believe I’d be better off without such an expansive lifespan, and… intense enthrallment in cheese,” he chuckles, pulling a laugh from you as well. When that laugh trails off, he cuts it short with a kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the one prior. 

“Just us two, then? After all of this?” You ask when the kiss is broken, and he smirks, shrugging.

“Us two and my Tressym, of course. I promise that she’s much better company than a goddess.”

“Of course. I can certainly live with that."

[moonselune]

I just wanted to say I love your writing, both the full length stories and the dribbles, especially when it involves any of the women.

I also LOVE that you write Minthara so much and so well! It's common to find compilations of companion content, lists or headcanons or art, that include the other companions—except for Minthara 😔 and it's always a little disappointing to see. So thank you for writing her, and even putting her at the top of the dribbles posts! I don't know if that's intentional or not, but it always puts a smile on my face to be able to easily see she's included 💜

If no one is writing Minthara content assume I am dead.

Tbf the lack of Minthara content was a really big motivator for me to start this blog, I feel like Minthara is a bit neglected so as the Econ student I am, I saw a gap in the market and I filled it. And considering I have only ran this blog for a few days now, the love and support I have received is insane !

Thank you so much for this I really do appreciate it and I am so glad I could put a smile on ur face, that makes me really happy!

So I will continue to write for Minthara (and the rest) and I will put her near the top because that is was the scary sexy drow lady deserves.

Enjoy this shitty meme I made as a token of my love x

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Shadows of Grief

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 5,041

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav encounters a familiar face among the shadows. Part 28 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: If you were heartbroken at the end of the last chapter I have good news!! it gets worse.

“Tev?” Tav called out to him again.

She fell back onto the damp soil, staring in horror at the twisted version of her brother before her. Time seemed to slow down, her ears were ringing and the tears in her eyes blurred her vision. All of the air had been knocked from her lungs, making her chest heavy with grief as she gasped to catch her breath. The sight of Tev’aron consumed her, causing her trap of vines to disappear and allow the other enemies to approach unimpeded.

“Tav? TAV! What is she doing?!” She could hear Karlach trying to get her attention but couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off Tev.

“I’ve got it,” Gale yelled back as he unleashed a massive line of lightning through most of the shadows.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it was all an illusion. A trick of the light, a cruel amalgam of her tired mind and the shadows stirring around her. Anything but this.

But when she opened them again, Tev’s twisted, snarling corpse had stood up once more and was stalking his way toward her. She looked up with pleading eyes, hoping that somehow she could still reason with this cursed shell of a man, that her brother was still in there somewhere.

Before she knew it, a flurry of jabs caused Tev’s body to fall to the ground, completely lifeless. With it, the small beacon of hope she had sheltered and kept lit for a hundred years – through winds and storms and gloom – was snuffed out in an instant.

“What in the hells was that Tav?!” Astarion yelled, standing above her. He was breathing heavily as he sheathed his daggers. Their other companions focused on taking down the last few enemies.

Tav didn’t respond, she just crawled over to Tev’s body and began to sob, laying her head on his chest. Every ounce of grief and sorrow she had locked away over the last century came crashing down on her. With a growling scream, she grabbed a nearby rock and hurled it into the darkness in front of them, desperate to relieve the despair she felt welling up inside of her.

“Fuck! Fuck this fucking curse! Fuck these shadows!” She sobbed and gagged in between the screams. “FUCK!”

She stood up and continued to grab anything she could find to throw – rocks, bones, clumps of dirt – screaming and cursing until her voice was hoarse and her lungs couldn’t take in enough air to make a sound.

Her companions moved out of the way to give her space, concern and confusion apparent on all their faces. Exhausted, she collapsed back down on the ground and lifted Tev up to hold his head against her chest. It had been a hundred years since she had seen his face. To see him like this now…

“Tev…I’m so sorry…” She whispered her sobbing apology over and over as her tears soaked into his matted curls. Her hands gently stroked his hair, pushing stray pieces from his face.

“Tav?” Astarion’s voice was much softer now.

She still couldn’t respond; she kept sobbing into his hair until her entire torso ached from the guttural cries. Her body rocked back and forth, knuckles turning white from gripping his body so tight. A warm, golden light shone behind her, and a moment later a pair of large arms wrapped around her shoulders. Halsin pulled her close to him as she clutched Tev against her chest.

“He deserved better than this,” she choked out with gasping breaths.

“I know, Tav. They all did,” he whispered against her temple.

“Who is he?” Gale asked quietly.

“Tev’aron…my brother.” She could barely get the words out before another wave of sobs took over her. “To think he’s been here all this time…”

“His suffering has ended now. He can be at peace.” Halsin tried to assure her.

“Peace? There’s no peace here. Look around you!” She was yelling again, unable to control her rising temper. “All hope and light have abandoned this place. What chance do we have against it?”

He recoiled slightly at her harsh words, adding a layer of guilt to her grief.

“We still have a chance, Tav. I have to believe that, and I think you do too.” She buried her head further into his chest. He placed one of his hands over hers, helping her hold Tev’s body up.

“I can’t leave him here,” she whispered as she stroked Tev’s cheek.

“Here, soldier. Let me.” Karlach had come over to kneel next to her, tear lines staining her cheeks. She held out her arms and helped lift his body off the ground. “We can at least give him a proper burial, yeah?”

Tav nodded, still sniffling, tears continuing to fall down her face. She allowed Karlach to take her brother’s body into her arms. Halsin helped her stand up, one arm around her shoulders to steady her. Gale appeared on her other side, offering an arm for her to take.

They made the short walk back to their camp where Karlach carefully set Tev’s body on the ground at the edge of the small clearing. Tav sat down next to him and reached out to hold one of his hands. She ran her other hand over his hollow, sunken cheeks. The feel of his cold skin brought more tears to her eyes, he was always so warm. His tattoo was just barely visible beneath the dirt and grime coating his entire body, the tattoo that they had gotten together after she joined the Harpers. At some point, Lunari had made her way over to her, resting her head in Tav’s lap with a low whine.

She could hear the others quietly explaining what happened to the rest of the party. Their words were soft enough that she couldn’t make out the details, but she didn’t care. 

Karlach came to sit with her after a while, putting a warm arm around her shoulders.

“I’m really sorry, soldier. I wish I could have met him.” Karlach sniffled with her words.

“You would have liked each other, I think. He always did have a weakness for the tough ones. You would have had him wrapped around your finger the moment he saw you throw a goblin across the room.” Tav smiled weakly as she leaned into Karlach.

“I like the sound of that. That means we could have been sisters, you and me.” Karlach gave a light laugh.

“We don’t need Tev for that. I’m happy to call you my sister anyway.” The tears in Tav’s eyes spilled over again. “I think I could use a sister right about now.”

She hugged Karlach tighter, grateful for the extra warmth. They sat there together for a while, Tav telling stories from their childhood. How Tev always snuck her extra fruit tarts, and how he was the one who first taught her how to use a bow. She told Karlach about the day the curse was released, how she and Tev had been separated for weeks due to the fighting.

Eventually, Halsin joined them. He knelt on the other side of Tav and took one of her hands.

“We’re ready when you are, my friend. Let us help you give him peace.” He helped her stand as Karlach picked Tev up again.

They joined the rest of their companions just outside of the camp, a small grave had been dug into the dirt in front of them. Tav took a deep, shaky breath and followed Karlach over to them. She took a moment to whisper one final goodbye in Tev’s ear, giving him a soft kiss on the top of his head.

As Karlach moved to set him down, a small piece of parchment in his jacket pocket caught her eye. She quickly snatched the envelope. It was a letter with a name scribbled on the front.

Ria M.

She took the letter and held it against her chest before stashing it in her pocket. She didn’t have the strength to read it here and now.

Slowly, Karlach lowered Tev into the narrow grave. The others had a light sheet to place over his body. As the thin fabric fell over his head, the tears came back with a vengeance as she realized that it was truly the last time she would see his face. Gale appeared at her side, presenting her with a shovel. With shaking hands, she took the tool from him and scooped up a small pile of dirt.

“Beneath the sun. Beneath the moon,” she began in Elvish as she dumped the shovel full of dirt into the grave.

“My spirit like leaves, blown far to sea. I sail away to night eternal.” More dirt covering his body as Tav’s hands began to work furiously to shovel the soft soil over him.

“Do not mourn.” Her voice caught on the words, the tears running down her cheeks to mix with the dirt stuck there. Her breathing became more and more ragged each time she drove the shovel into the ground.

“I shall be reborn...”

Tav’s hands slipped along the handle of the shovel, causing her to fall to the ground. She stayed kneeling there, clutching the shovel against her as she sobbed.

“Yet my heart shall always be with you.” Halsin finished the prayer as he took the shovel from her and moved in another batch of dirt. The others took turns moving the rest of it. They all helped her place rocks along the top to protect the fresh grave.

Tav knelt at the edge of her brother’s final resting place. The heartbreak she felt was unlike any she had experienced before, paralyzing her, making her numb to the cool evening air. Halsin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder causing her to lean into his touch.

“I’m sorry my friend, but I must make haste to Last Light. If I can speak with the Flaming Fist there, I may be able to find a way for us to be rid of these shadows forever.” His voice was so hopeful, she hated how bitter it made her feel.

“Of course. I’m sure a couple of the others would be happy to help get you back there.” She tried to smile at him even as her lips trembled. He gave her a puzzled look in response, like he had hoped she would still accompany him.

“I just need some time alone. Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” She grabbed a nearby torch and turned to walk away.

“I understand.” His voice was low and reserved.

Tav had selfishly hoped that he would offer to stay with her. But she understood. The sooner he could find out a way to be rid of these shadows for good, the better. She hoped the disappointment wasn’t too obvious in her expression. Lunari followed her, but Tav stopped and held out her hand.

“No, girl. Stay here.” The wolf whined in protest, but dropped her haunches into the dirt.

As she made her way towards the trees, dragging her feet in the dirt, she somehow managed to keep the rest of her tears in her eyes until she was out of view of the camp.

***

Halsin watched Tav shuffle away into the dark, her shoulders slumped and head hung low. He vividly remembered the feeling of seeing someone you love warped by this vicious curse. Despite his numerous friends and allies that fell here, he had been lucky to avoid such an ordeal since they had returned.

“You should go talk to her.” Karlach walked up beside him. “She’ll listen to you.”

“I have no words that can comfort this kind of grief, Karlach. She just needs time.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t truly believe them. “My focus must return to banishing these shadows, once and for all. For Tav and her brother…for everyone.” His chest tightened with each syllable.

“Hmph. I guess I was wrong then.” She sounded disappointed, maybe even angry.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. Karlach let out a long sigh.

“I thought that you liked her, that you cared about her, y’know? The way you two pair up around camp cuddling in front of the fire, the way you flirt even though you’re both terrible at it. Don’t think we haven’t all noticed how she’s the first person you check for injuries whenever we return to camp.” Karlach gave him a small smile.

“I do care for her, but you don’t know what you’re asking of me, Karlach. I’ve waited over a hundred years for this chance. I…I can’t risk losing it.” That familiar pull in his chest was irresistible, yearning to drag him after Tav. The invisible tether binding their hearts together was pulled even tighter with every step she took away from him.

“You wouldn’t even have that chance if it wasn’t for her!” Karlach yelled before releasing a heavy sigh to calm herself.

“If you’ve really waited that long, Halsin…what’s a couple more hours?” Her voice was softer now as she placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Halsin considered her words for a moment. The last century worth of meditations and prayers had been filled with desperate pleas for answers, for knowledge. Knowledge that he could finally put to use. He thought back to his growing despair every time he reached out to try and find Thaniel, only to be met with silence. He thought back to the defeat he felt at his capture, truly believing he would die at the hands of the goblins, believing he had lost the chance to banish these shadows.

Then, he thought of Tav.

Alone, grieving, and full of guilt…just as he had been all those years ago. Just as he still was now. No one had come to comfort him. He had just been named Archdruid, he was given no time to mourn. Tav was the one who came to his rescue, she was the beacon of hope he had prayed for over the last century, his guiding light in a world of darkness. Thinking of her alone, surrounded by shadow was enough to nearly knock him to his knees.

Oak Father, forgive me.

Halsin took a deep breath and patted Karlach’s hand on his shoulder.

“You are a good friend, Karlach.” She grinned back at him. He started to move forward but turned back to her.

“Am I really that bad at flirting?” he asked.

“Yes,” Astarion’s voice called out from somewhere behind Karlach, she let out a loud laugh.

“Not as bad as Tav though. Go on, go get your girl, bear man.” She was still smiling at him.

He grabbed a torch and ran after Tav.

***

Tav didn’t know where she was going, just that she couldn’t sit around the campfire with everyone tonight. In her heart, she always knew that Tev had died, but some deep, dark part of her held on to the smallest sliver of hope. She hoped in her worst nights that he had escaped somewhere, that he was scouring the lands of Faerûn so they could be together once more. That hope kept her going through countless lows, the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find her brother again.

Now, what did she have? A group of battered, exhausted adventurers, plagued with mind flayer tadpoles and a host of other problems. Hopeless pining after a druid who seemed so afraid of his past that he wasn’t willing to look for a future. Hundreds of years of life ahead of her, with no family and no one to share it with.

She stopped at a large tree with huge roots sticking out of the ground. There was a little divot between the roots big enough for her to sit in. She drove the end of her torch into the cold dirt, sitting next to it and leaning against the rough trunk. The ever-present chill in the air reminded her of her creeping loneliness. Pulling her legs close to her chest, she allowed her grief to consume her. The headache forming behind her eyes protested at her sobs. Her eyelids fluttered closed, desperate for rest she knew wouldn’t come.

Suddenly, she was sprinting through the streets of the Lower City, the cool stone scraping her bare feet. Tav’ahria was desperately trying to keep up with Tev’aron who was attempting to lead her to a safe house. They hadn’t said a word since they fled the party, they only ran. 

What remained of the train of her gown kept snagging on various objects as she dashed through alleys and around corners after Tev. And each time she would slice a shred of the soft fabric free with the dagger he had given her, frantically trying to keep herself from slowing down. She wasn’t sure if they were even being followed anymore, but she didn’t dare spare a glance behind her.

Eventually, Tev stopped and grabbed her arm to pull her into an inn. She took a moment to catch her breath, wiping away the sweat dripping from her brow. Many of the tiny braids weaved into her hair had come loose and were sticking out from her head in a wild pattern. The skirt of her dress hung around her knees in tattered shreds from cutting away the snagged pieces.

“Wait here, Ria. Don’t talk to anyone until I return.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly and disappeared into the small crowd.

She leaned her head back against the wall as she scanned the room before her. Patrons of all shapes, sizes, and colors talked and laughed among the tables. Pretty, young barmaids navigated their way around the room with expertise, spinning around drunken customers while delivering drinks and cleaning tables. 

The room had a liveliness that was unfamiliar to her. She had attended her fair share of parties and balls, but none felt as alive as this gathering in front of her. She was used to polite, idle chatter and elegant, stuffy music echoing off grand walls. But here…everyone was loud and crude, the only music came from a bard off in the corner who was being drowned out by those singing along to his songs.

The singing was terrible, the bard’s lute was in need of a good tuning, and the smell of ale mixed with something unidentifiable made her stomach churn a bit. Yet somehow, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen in her long life. It took her a moment to identify the feeling.

Freedom.

The laughs and chatter around her brought tears to her eyes. She ached to meld into the crowd. To laugh and drink and play cards until the sun started to rise. Without thinking, she took a step forward, longing to feel as carefree as everyone around her.

“Ria!” Tev reappeared beside her. “This way.” He tilted his head towards a door to the side of the building. He had grabbed a cloak and threw it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up over her head to obscure her appearance. 

She gave one last wistful look to the room behind her as he pulled her into another alley. Tears flowed down her cheeks, cooling her face with the evening breeze.

“Hey, hey…” Tev turned to face her once they were outside. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She smiled up at him as she wiped the tears away using the cloak he had given her. Unable to help herself, she started to laugh uncontrollably. He gave her a worried look.

“I’m free…I can do what I want. I can laugh and drink and curse and dance and…” The smile on her face kept getting wider and wider. “I can do whatever it is normal people do. Why did I wait this long? Why did I stay there?”

Tev gave her a hug that threatened to crush her spine. She hugged him back and cried into his shoulder.

“Come on, our ride should be here any minute. The Harpers have enclaves everywhere, we can lay low for a while to make sure we’re safe.” Tev pulled away and smiled down at her.

He led her to the edge of the alley where it met the road, peering around the corner. A small horse-drawn cart was making its way towards them. It slowed as it approached the alley, and Tev quickly tugged her toward the back of it. He pulled her up to sit among the crates and barrels as it resumed its traveling speed. The person up front turned to give a nod to Tev, which he returned. The cart bounced along the cobblestone roadways as it made its way toward the outskirts of the Lower City, causing their shoulders to bump together periodically.

A welcome fog started to settle over the city, giving them even more cover to make their escape. The lights dimmed in the mist as it swirled around her face to form a light layer of cold moisture on her skin.

Tav’ahria wrapped the cloak she was wearing tight around her body, trying to fight off the evening chill. Tev put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She sighed as she leaned on his shoulder, her eyelids starting to feel heavy.

“You came back,” she whispered.

“Of course I did.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers. “I’ll always come back for you, Ria.”

Tav blinked and returned to the shadows, still as heavy and dark as they were one hundred years ago. She had searched for Tev for months after the curse was unleashed. Desperately seeking anyone who had witnessed the battle to inquire about his whereabouts. For years after, she kept tabs on Harper safe houses and enclaves, hoping that he would make his way through their underground network. No one knew his fate, whether he fell to a sword or succumbed to the curse, or if he was hiding out somewhere, still alive and awaiting a rescue that would never come.

But she knew now. He had been trapped here all this time, being warped by this wicked, unnatural darkness. The guilt she felt was crushing her, she felt unable to move under its weight.

“I should have come back for you, Tev…” she whispered the words, knowing they would disappear into the shadows.

Who would come back for her now? Who would drag her from these nightmares and run with her to safety?

You’re just a lonely little flower again, wilting away in the dark.

***

Tav’s footprints led Halsin to a small, nearby clearing. There was a large tree at its edge, and he found her curled up against the trunk, nestled among bulky roots. He called out to her in a gentle voice.

“Tav?” No response, only stifled sniffles. He took a few more steps toward her.

“May I come sit?” he asked, waiting for any invitation to do so. She nodded, the movement barely visible with her shoulders heaving.

He sat close to her, the rough bark of the tree scratching against his clothing. Tentatively, he reached out to place a hand on her back. Her shoulders were tense, and it felt like her entire body was shaking.

“I thought you were going back to Last Light.” Her voice was raspy and strained.

“It can wait just a bit longer. I think I belong here with you right now.” Karlach’s words echoed in his mind.

“I’m so sorry you had to see him like this, Tav…” he trailed off, slowly stroking her back.

“I can’t stand the thought of him being here, Halsin. Buried away in a strange land, without even the sun to shine on his grave.”

A sadness most familiar to him as well. His entire family had passed, but at least they rested in their home of High Forest. There was little he wouldn’t do to ensure they didn’t have to spend eternity in a place like this.

“It doesn’t have to be this way forever.” His own voice was beginning to crack. “We can bring the light back to Moonrise.”

She turned to look at him, her face lined with the trails from her tears. Not a trace of hope could be seen in her reddened eyes. He held his other arm out, inviting her to come lean against him. Her bottom lip started quivering, and she dove into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She had both arms wrapped tight around his waist, clinging to him as if he was her only anchor to the ground. The sudden movement startled him, but he quickly relaxed into her warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she mumbled into his shirt between sobs.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know all too well the pain of being back in this accursed forest.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers.

They sat huddled against the tree together. The only sounds were Tav’s cries, slowly calming as she relaxed in his arms. He felt a surprising amount of relief sitting here, holding her.

I have given you all that you need. Find your balance. You know the way.

The Oak Father’s words drifted to the front of his mind.

Perhaps you don’t have to do this alone.

Halsin was the one to finally break the silence.

“For decades I have begged Silvanus’s favor, desperate for answers. I have been so consumed by grief and despair, so convinced that I had to banish this ancient evil on my own, that I could not see the gift he finally sent me.” He paused to take a deep breath before continuing.

“Even when she dragged me from the maws of the goblin camp.”

Tav tilted her head to look up at him, wiping a line of tears and snot from her face. A few of the stray hairs from her braid were now stuck to her cheeks.

“Now that I have you here with me, I’ve come to realize that I cannot do this alone.” Admitting this to her was a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He peeled the stray strands from her face and tucked them behind her ears.

“Do you really have a way to lift the curse?” she asked.

“Perhaps. I won’t know for sure until I can talk with the Flaming Fist. If Thaniel is alive, I need more information to guide me. I can’t just charge in blind, or I’ll likely end up lost myself.” He could hear the frustration creeping into his voice.

Tav studied him for a while. With each passing moment, the look in her eyes became more and more intense.

“Then…we’ll find a way to wake him up. We won’t leave this place until the shadows are banished. Forever.” There was a sudden strength in her words that made his heartbeat quicken.

“I’ve already asked so much of you.” The strength in his own words faltered as hers grew.

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.” Her eyes had cleared and the hopelessness he had seen before was now replaced with determination. “If you think it can be done, we’ll make it happen.”

Halsin’s breathing became unsteady, looking into her eyes brought all the desire of the past weeks to the front of his mind. Finally, he had someone to share this burden with, someone who understood his pain. For so long, he had pushed away any possible distraction, and now he found himself so close to achieving his goals…but that selfish ache returned to his chest.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers before giving her the softest of kisses. Their lips just barely brushed against each other. It was all he could afford right now. The light touch was still enough to send his heart aflutter.

She blinked at him a few times after he pulled away. A surprised smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. He took one of her hands in his and held it against his chest.

“I care about you, Tav,” he whispered, struggling to contain the urge to take her into his arms for the night, to feel every inch of her skin pressed against his own. “I know that you wish for us to be more than this but…” He closed his eyes and sighed.

“My guilt and my duty to this land have weighed on me for some time. One day I hope my heart will be free to roam again but until then…I’m afraid that this is all I have to offer for now.” He looked down at the ground, almost ashamed to admit it.

Tav’s other hand came up to rest on his cheek, her thumb tracing the lines on his face. She moved her hand up to the hair falling around his ears, allowing her fingers to gently run through the strands. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into her touch.

“I’ll take it.”  She put her head back down on his shoulder and hugged him closer to her. He wrapped his arms back around her to hold her in place, a relieved sigh escaping from his lips.

I’ll take it.

He never knew those three words could sound so sweet.

“Okay, enough wallowing.” Tav sniffled after a few minutes and stood up, wiping the tears from her face. “We need to get you to Last Light.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling up for it yet, I’m sure the others can get me there.”

“I’m sure. Let’s send this curse back up Shar’s fucking ass where it belongs.” She held her hand out to help him up. A proud grin came over his face.

There’s that righteous rage.

“I need no further encouragement.” Halsin let her pull him to his feet. She threw her arms around his neck once more in a hug.

“Thank you, Halsin,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“Anytime, Tav.” He pulled her tight against him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She tried to pull away, but he held her there a few moments longer, not quite ready to let go and face his destiny just yet.

[roguerambles]

AHHHHHHHHH WRITER'S BLOCK IS DRIVING ME CRAZY--sorry I'm yelling

[silkendress]

The Next Page

Baldur's Gate 3 Explicit Wyll/Reader 13k words Read on AO3

You and Wyll shared the desire of having a family, it was mentioned once, just to make certain your romantic desires aligned, and never directly broached upon again.

Until today, that is.

I got impatient and decided to write this despite not yet finishing the game. (I’m still in act II.) If there are any inconsistencies or things that are missing then that’s why! I hope this still can be an enjoyable read despite that. In the event some earth-shattering revelation is revealed at the end of the game, just consider this to be an alternate universe. 🤗

To elaborate a little on the tags; Wyll is softly assertive in the sex scene here just a tad—not in a bad way!!—they both are really into it and he’s very gentle about it haha. I thought it’d be worth mentioning since from what I could tell most people seem to write him taking a more receiving/passive(?) role during sex.

This story was written with my specific character in mind, who has the background of an outlander and is a cleric. It’s mentioned in the story that Wyll was her first time and her first kiss, and there are descriptors that suggest she is small-framed. Aside from that no name or other physical descriptors are given! I find it fun when reader-inserts have a bit of personality, it’s like imagining I’m a different person—but hopefully this isn’t something that too many people mind!

Wyll Ravengard knew he wanted a family for quite some time now. And he knew he wanted to have it with you.

Love, marriage. Children.

It was somewhat acknowledged in the past, back when you slept on thin bedrolls upon soil.

It was something that had to be spoken of even if you both were on borrowed time.

Wyll had no interest in loveless flings. He never had. Even with the occasional uncanny squirming feeling behind his good eye, he was going to court you properly. Tadpole or no.

You deserved it, you deserved that and more and this was the bare minimum. The very least he could do.

You had thought yourself a hermit, a recluse with no real charm of note, you admitted this to Wyll once before at camp. He was quick to disagree. And when you had stumbled across him practicing his steps while in the Shadow-Cursed Lands he alluded as much to you—his light, he had called you.

And he had meant it. Every word.

Wyll was determined, courageous, and hopeful; and so he made sure that the two of you wanted the same things in life before committing to one another. The future seemed distant, almost impossibly so. Wyll spoke of true love and fairytale romances, as did you—yet, you felt like your time was running out.

And yet, he hoped.

Wyll was not naïve, far from it in fact. The man had been through the literal Hells, he had seen evil up close, had slain it. Sold his very soul to do the right thing. And yet, he hoped.

His was a kindness forged through hardship and resilience, and it shone through his very being like the sun cresting over a stormy sky.

Wyll vividly remembers that night you accepted his proposal, the joy so in his chest burning so bright it threatened to swallow him whole. He told you as much, laying his heart bare, and yours in kind.

Your skin decorated by the warm glow of candles and starlight, how you both laid under the stars giggling like children about the futures you both dared to dream of. It was enchanting how something so simple could be so precious.

The very acorn he offered you that night was swiftly fashioned into a necklace, he remembers how his eyes widened in surprise and how his heart ached with every pulse when he first saw it upon your neck.

And now you both were finally there—that future so sweet and beautiful that you only uttered it to one another in hushed whispers while your companions slept. That future which had so much more over the horizon, every triumph and hardship to be dealt with alongside one another for as long as you drew breath.

The future, what comes after, the next turn of the page…

It’s been on Wyll’s mind a lot recently. And he has a strong idea why.

It happened about two weeks ago.

You were taking a stroll around the city together, Wyll finally had enough free time to do so. He had been so busy as of late that he worried you felt neglected, and so he surprised you by planning a pleasant day visiting some of his favorite spots.

It was perfect, the sun was shining warmly and the wind was cool and inviting. Wyll’s hand was holding yours in a gentle yet firm grip, protective.

The incident that began Wyll’s pondering of what lies ahead was near the end of your little trip.

A small group of children recognized Wyll—it had initially surprised him, and after answering a handful of enthusiastic questions the conversation had shifted to a story. Namely of a battle, as you listened you realized that it was a fight you took part of alongside him, and that was how Wyll roped you into storytelling along with him.

The children’s eyes were rapt with attention, and you were remarkably good at keeping them engaged.

So much so, that the children’s questions were soon directed to you. Wyll chuckled warmly, seeing you interact with children always made him smile; you were so kind and gentle with them every time.

That being said, he never had the opportunity to see you with them in such a domestic setting like that. You were wearing a flowing dress and simple leather sandals, you didn’t have any weapons on your person nor were you donned in armor.

Back then, you were still adventuring and endeavoring to rid yourselves of tadpoles. As Wyll watched the scene unfold in front of him his smile grew ever larger, leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed over his chest.

It wouldn’t be too difficult for his imagination to conjure the image of you playing with your children, his children. A bit of him and you in a little person.

It made his chest swell.

You playfully shoo’d the little ones away, all of them happily chattering amongst themselves about adventure and hunting monsters.

Wyll’s eyes lingered a moment longer than he intended, and his subconscious saw fit to take in the scene and rearrange it ever so slightly—all it took was the brief image of your stomach large and round with his child to shoot an unexpected bolt of wantthrough him. Recognizing the feeling with an agonizing rush so swift it almost left him lightheaded.

His mouth went dry, his jaw tensing. Just as quickly as the thought was there it was gone, leaving Wyll with nothing but a myriad of emotions in its wake.

Which left him where he was right now.

At first, he thought to ignore it. Brush it off and keep it tucked away in some corner of his mind. Wyll trusted you, and felt safe with you, he knew he could be vulnerable—but he was still human. The idea of expressing such a desire to you made his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Since then he had the time to ruminate on it, and by now he knew full well the thought of impregnating you made him ache in a way that no other thought did. Thanks to a previous discussion establishing your wants in a relationship when you first got together, Wyll knew you wanted children one day just as much as he did.

The thing was, not only had neither of you brought it up since then, he also wasn’t certain if the thought…Excited you as it did him.

He could see it so clearly; your home having one, or maybe two—or Gods, perhaps even more than that—extra little people residing who bore the perfect blend of you and Wyll upon their features.

The thought was so soft and so clear that when he was first brave enough to dream of it, back under a starlit sky and an unwanted guest in his head, that was enough to make his vision blur at the edges with tears that had yet to fall.

As of late, however, that sweet dream of his had taken a new quality; one of your stomach curved and full with his offspring. So rounded that the proof of his love and devotion to you would be laid bare to anyone who gazed at you, and how along with it the knowledge that he had planted his seed inside your womb. That not only the child was his—but so were you.

It was ridiculous, how quickly he ached just from the image of you pregnant. He never expected such a thing to have this strong of an effect on him, yet here he was.

You and Wyll shared the desire of having a family, it was mentioned once, just to make certain your romantic desires aligned, and never directly broached upon again.

Until today, that is.

The quietness of the early morning lent itself to a pondering mind.

Wyll was currently laid on his side hidden in the bed he shared with you, his hand idly running through your hair as he cradled you close to his chest. Your body was pressed completely to him, filling a space next to his ribs and abdomen that he didn’t realize was empty before you.

Your limbs tangled with his own, lazily twisting and wrapping around him not much unlike the roots of a tree or sprawling ivy.

You were still asleep, your breathing soft and relaxed, following an instinctual rhythm as old as your bones; in and out, in and out.

The sun had yet to fully rise, but soon it would be.

Wyll’s body shielded you from the beams of light that would eventually tiptoe into the room, his back facing the window.

He found that he woke up before you did more and more often, it brought warmth to his heart that you didn’t have to wake at the crack of dawn and steel yourself for battle and whatever else would lie ahead anymore.

Wyll—while awake—was almost just as relaxed as you. His blunt nails lightly scratching your scalp in an affectionate gesture, his hands bold and unflinching. He had touched you many times, and would touch you many more; it was a blessing, this familiar touch you shared.

How he delighted in the unabashed nature in which you both would exchange touches and kisses, held hands and cupped faces, kisses both chaste and deep.

His other arm laid comfortably over your side, keeping you close. He nestled his head against yours, breathing in your scent—lavender. A ghost of a smile finds its way upon his lips, the memory of him washing your hair a night before still sweet and fresh.

The scent was soothing, a wave of contentment washes over him as he snuggles ever closer to you. The blankets were comfortably warm and Wyll had a feeling that today would be an especially pleasant one.

For once, Wyll let himself briefly indulge—it wasn’t often he allowed himself to—and entertained the musing of how you were pressed so close to him, and that if your stomach was full of his growing child you would have no other option than to lay with your back against him as opposed to chest-to-chest like you were now.

It was such a sweet thought, richer than any tart or pudding.

It also left him with longing. A deep, yawning desire.

As if on cue, you begin to lazily wiggle and stretch out your legs. Just in time; he could see the ghost of sunlight dancing on the walls.

Your eyes squeeze, your brows pinched together, Wyll couldn’t help but smile at the sight, tipping his head low to kiss the crease there. His gentle lips rouse you to full consciousness, your mind registering the soft stubble on his chin and his kiss just as he pulls away.

“Good morning, my love.” Wyll murmurs, lips ghosting over your hairline, his fingertips drawing soothing circles into your back.

You think of how blessed you were to be woken in such a simple yet intimate way.

“I love you.” Your voice is thick with sleep, yet the words come out fluid and smooth, your mouth moving before your thoughts could catch up.

You feel more than hear Wyll chuckle, his chest rising and falling in short, quick beats. “I love you.” He replies, the low sound of his voice warming your heart.

It prompts you to tilt up your head, and smile at him. Still somewhat tired from just waking up, your hair in mild disarray, and utterly radiant.

For a breath, Wyll considered telling you of what’s been on his mind as of late, just a brief passing thought lingering behind the forefront of his mind. He intends to disregard it immediately, but then (much to his own shock) he actually considers it.

The two of you had only made love once before, after being wed and you had settled in to the home you now shared. It was then you sheepishly admitted you never had another’s hands or body upon you in such a way, Wyll was honored to be your first.

Since then, the two of you had shared intimate touches rather frequently, but never reached the act itself—it just didn’t end up that way, was all. Wyll would bring you to your peak with his fingers, and you would bring him to his with your hands. Wyll saw no reason to rush when tadpoles resided in your skulls, and he saw no reason to rush now.

Wyll was patient and understanding. He got the impression you were still getting used to lovemaking; what with growing up in the wilds outside the comforts of civilization orsocialization it made sense.

That being said, you were adjusting remarkably fast all things considered. And you were rather clingy, much to Wyll’s delight, he loved feeling needed, especially by you.

All that to say, he wasn’t certain how you would feel about his…Want.

Not to mention a part of him was mortified, recalling how you were being so gentle and motherly that day shouldn’t fill him with the desire to hike up your dress and—

Wyll swallows thickly, and returns your smile softly.

Wyll did well with not ticking you off to anything going on with his recent thoughts of starting a family, and until today he resigned himself to never admitting the more sensual parts of those musings. But try as he might, the desire didn’t go away. Just when he thought he had finally laid those thoughts to rest, something—or sometimes even nothing at all—would make them return.

It was a deep longing, and not just of a carnal sort.

“It’s early.” You muse, snapping him out of his thoughts. You shift as much as you can within his comforting arms to lay on your back, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

Wyll hums in acknowledgment. Without thinking, his hand finds itself resting on your belly.

He freezes, his tongue suddenly lead in his mouth. There’s an almost agonizing beat of quiet before he relaxes upon reminding himself that touching you in this way wasn’t unusual; he admonishes himself.

Your abdomen was as flat as it always had been, you didn’t have the muscle mass he did so the surface was smooth. It was too easy to imagine—

‘Gods, man. Get it together.’

He slides his hand up your stomach to rest on your ribs instead.

You squirm and wiggle under his touch, a soft giggle bubbling out your throat. Wyll can’t help but grin, he sweeps his thumb under the bottom ridge of your ribcage and you writhe against the bed. Part ticklish and part needy.

It wasn’t Wyll’s intention to go down this route this morning, he had simply rested his hand on you as he had hundreds of times before at this point, and one thing led to another.

He wasn’t complaining either way.

Your hands lay loosely around your head, eyeing him curiously with a simper on your lips. Watching what he would do next.

He decides to kiss you. Deeply, tenderly. Wyll has to shift over you to do so, his torso half-way looming over yours. Your hands reach up then, cupping his face and cradling him closer. Wyll sighs wistfully against your lips, his heart constricting just from your gentle touch.

As your lips melded together, his worries slowly melted away. It seemed silly now, his apprehension; he could be honest with you. He would just test the waters first, as it were.

The second you softly tilt your head back to catch your breath and thus breaking the kiss, Wyll considers long and hard about how to mention it. He obviously was not going to get into the arousal part of the fantasy his mind conjured up, but you had been married for almost a year now, he thought it prudent to bring up the topic of family again, regardless of his unexpected carnal desire.

You beam breathlessly up at him, Wyll can feel his heart ache with fondness with every pulse.

Wyll’s lips come up by your hairline, pressing a chaste kiss there. “You are radiant.” He murmurs.

You giggle bashfully, sheepishly mumbling ‘thank you’ and ‘you are, too.’ You always got shy accepting compliments, though you were much better accepting them now—he remembers how you sputtered and were rendered nigh-speechless when he very first called you beautiful.

Wyll shifts from hovering over you to lay down again, this time pressed closely to your side, his head resting by yours.

A comfortable silence fell over you both. His hand finds itself idly running through your hair again and you nuzzle into his neck and soak up his affections.

Wyll lets the familiar quiet remain for a few moments longer before he speaks again, carefully and slowly.

“I’ve found myself thinking more and more of tomorrow as of late.”

Vague, and not at all to the point, but it was certainly better than nothing. Besides, he didn’t want to be too blunt.

In his peripheral he sees your head cock up towards him, your eyes gazing at him. You’re quiet, sometimes you just were, and he took the cue to continue; just as he was going to open his mouth you softly replied.

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is our today.” The sheepish grin you give him floods his heart, Wyll finds himself agreeing. He cradles your head closer with the hand currently in your hair.

“What musings have you had about tomorrow?” There’s a glint of curiosity in your eye.

Wyll hums, a low and short sound. “Us.” He answers simply, a mild lilt to his tone.

“Ah, one of your favorite subjects.” You grin widely at him, your eyes crinkling in quiet laughter. Wyll returns it, huffing out a chuckle, his nerves melting away by the second.

“What about ‘us’ have you thought about, my love?”

‘Well, here goes.’

“Do you remember when we went to the city?”

You cock your head to the side, your brows coming together in increments as you tried to remember. Eventually your eyes blink wide in recognition.

“Ah! Yes, I do. What about it?” It took you a moment to recall not because you didn’t cherish that day, but because you hadn’t a clue why your husband had brought it up right now.

“We strolled the streets together, hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing…” Wyll began, you listened with full attention.

“And…Well, then those children recognized me.” He scoffs a little, almost bashful. His eyes land on yours, hoping to find a flicker of understanding there, but instead you simply nod; mutely urging him to go on.

It sounded…Silly, saying it aloud. But Wyll makes himself speak before those insecure thoughts took over.

“And then they noticed you, and you entertained them, gentle and graceful…” Your eyes soften as he goes on. Wyll swallows thickly, choosing his next words carefully,

“I…At that moment, I thought of us having a child of our own.”

Wyll’s eyes remain on yours, flicking across your features to see your reaction.

You were positively glowing.

“Truth be told, the thought has flickered on my mind since then, too.” Wyll releases a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

The life you and Wyll now lived was as peaceful as it could get, really. If there ever was a good time to welcome a new life into your home, it would be now.

You never had the opportunity to have such daydreams before falling in love with Wyll. Your life had been one of survival and solitude. There were moments of calm and little joys of course, scarcely any period of time was wholly one emotion, but the broad brushstrokes of your formative years were that of seclusion.

But here, now, with Wyll, you could imagine it vividly. A part of you had always wanted a family to call your own, to be loved and to have it returned in kind, to be a mother; but the earthly cynicism that had kept you alive stomped out that delicate desire.

Ever since falling in love with Wyll, said desire had made a hesitant return. Now it bloomed in your chest and shined bright.

“I would like to have our halls filled with little footsteps.” You admit bluntly. Wyll’s eyes widen, then he laughs breathlessly.

“So would I.” He didn’t realize a weight had been on his shoulders due to this until now, he was awash with relief.

Being raised in the wilderness as you were, you had difficulty with the subtleties and unspoken rules of conversation. Your familiarity with Wyll made it easy for him to understand you when your words failed, but other times you simply couldn’t ’read between the lines’ or ‘read the room’ like others (seemingly innately) could.

This resulted in you remaining silent under most circumstances lest you made a fool out of yourself, offended a potential ally, or worse. However in the company of your husband these concerns weren’t necessary. (As he had assured you many times in the past.)

Thusly, you spoke bluntly, and without much thought.

“Do you want to see me with child now?”

‘Gods, yes.’

Wyll practically choked, coughing to mask his nervous laughter.

“I…Well—“ He takes a breath, trying to not stumble over his words like a teenager.

“If you’re not ready yet, we don’t have to, my love.” Wyll responds politely.

You eye him curiously. “I asked you because I am ready, but only If you are, too.”

Wyll’s tongue feels like stone. His heart rabbit-kicks between his lungs.

“Yes,” He fights desperately to keep his tone steady. “I am.”

It didn’t happen until Wyll returned from a hunt a couple days after that conversation that was had in the wee hours of the morning.

When you heard door open and close, then the telltale jingle of him hanging up his equipment, there was static in the air. Electric and intoxicating, you could feel your skin prickling in anticipation.

You had welcomed him in as you always had, your arms thrown around his neck and a chaste kiss pressed to his lips, yet still the excitement didn’t fade—just turned down to a simmer.

Afterwards Wyll bathed, and then you shared dinner together, idly talking about his recent hunt, what you got up to while he was away…About anything and nothing all while his ankle hooked over yours under the table.

You felt a twinge of disappointment as said meal went on, because you got the feeling he was tired, which meant no child-making tonight.

Or so you thought.

Turns out you misread, because the second you had put the plates and cutlery up to dry you felt his hands slip over your waist, his palms warm even through the fabric of your shirt.

You swallow down a gasp as his nose lightly flutters along the shell of your ear and down your neck with the motion of his head dipping lower. A mixture of surprise and elation pulsing through you.

“Do you remember the talk we had?” He murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent your skin prickling so sweetly.

“The one before I left, in the hours when the sun just began to rise…” His lips were so close to your neck that with each syllable his lips just barely brushed against the skin there, sending a shudder up your spine.

You nod, perhaps too quickly. “Yes. I do.” The excitement is barely contained in your voice, and this encourages Wyll to continue.

“I would love to have you with child by sunrise, if you’ll have me.”

“Yes, yes.” The words are punched out of you.

‘My sun, I promise you that you’ll be a mother after tonight.’ That was what he whispered to you before he had effortlessly whisked you away up to your shared bedroom.

Before you knew it you were sitting upon his lap on the edge of the bed, your mouths against each other.

Wyll kissed you without restraint, love and affection pouring out of him. He had said yours was a taste richer than any wine he’d drunk. How his lips were hungrily moving against yours was proof of that.

You whine against him and it makes his breath catch.

And so you lean in further, it felt like the right thing to do, and much to your delight it seemingly was if the hand on your hip gently urging you closer was any indication.

Your entire body is feverish, running hot and desperate. Your heart pulses in your chest and betwixt your legs.

Momentarily you feel beyond embarrassed that you were reacting this strongly to a kiss, but your insecurity didn't have time to fester any further as Wyll's calloused hand soothingly cups your cheek, deepening the kiss and temporarily emptying your mind of any real coherence.

Heat rose to your face when you noticed a pressure between your legs, directly on your crotch; Wyll’s cock straining against his trousers and pressing against you.

He drug his lips down, starting at your jaw and sliding down your neck, then finally your collarbone. You let out a desperate gasp when he softly sucked at your skin.

He had barely touched you, yet you were already shuddering. Ever since he left your heart and body had craved him, for him to finally be touching you was almost beyond words.

Wyll’s hands gripped your hips with just a little more force, and gave an experimental roll of his hips.

You moan desperately into his neck. A groan rumbles out his chest. He lurches his hips up again and you have to muffle your noises in the column of his throat.

“Let me hear you, love.”

You whimper, hugging him tight as he steadied his heels on the floor to buck into you in earnest. Tension coiled within you as the motion lightly bounced you on his muscular thighs, your eyes squeezing ever tighter as the coil wound taut.

“Just like that, keep going.” You didn’t realize your hips were bucking in tandem with his until he rasped those words of encouragement.

Suddenly a hand is guiding your head to kiss him, his mouth yearning and greedy. Your head was swimming, your heart racing and your nerves alight. You were so sensitive, so desperate for his affection, and Gods he was finally going to have you tonight—

Your fingers dug into his shirt as your breath came in hiccuped gasps, Wyll swallowed your pants and moans as your hips moved erratically on their own accord. Wyll’s hand gripped your hip powerfully—though not painfully, never painfully—and kept you steady as pleasure wracked your body.

It took you longer than a second to realize you just came, your mind was pleasantly fuzzy with the pleasure Wyll just brought you to.

Embarrassment engulfed you in a scorching flame, you hadn’t meant to get carried away like that—

Wyll said your name with a sort of reverence reserved for a goddess, snapping you out of your self-depreciative thoughts before they could fully coalesce.

He kissed your cheek, then your temple, his breathing was almost as heavy as your own.

“Do you need a moment, my love?” His voice was gentle and reassuring, a lower note to it that made your cheeks warm and pulse quicken.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice just yet. Your body still craved him, even after your orgasm.

A rakish grin spread across his face, making your stomach swoop.

Wyll loved it, how you responded so plainly to his words and touch. How you craved to be held and nurtured by him. A warm and wet spot was forming at the very tip of the bulge in his pants, the tightness of which was almost bordering on uncomfortable.

You feel him lean forward to stand, and your legs loop tightly around his waist in kind. He presses featherlight kisses to your neck, making giggles bubble up and out your mouth.

Wyll lays you on the bed, slow and delicate. It was then you realized you both were overdressed.

You also noticed the hard ridge emanating from the apex of Wyll’s thighs and tracing up and out from between his legs. You feel your heart double-beat just from seeing the physical evidence of Wyll’s want.

You hastily begin to take off your shirt. Wyll laughs, leaning over you and beginning to pull the garment off you himself. With a lilt in his tone and a slight teasing air, he asked; “Excited?” The question sounded encouraging.

You nod, “Yes, I am—I’ve missed you so much. And…And I’ve been thinking about this.”

“So have I.” He answers with a small, almost nervous smile. “…Far more than I should.” He then tacks on, quiet and self-conscious.

“I want this more than you know.” He admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink up at him, then cup his face, planting a brief kiss on the bridge of his nose.

You whisper, quiet and curious. “Can you tell me?”

You see Wyll’s throat bob as he swallows.

Hells, where does he even start?

You watch him worry his lip between his teeth for a single brief moment, your vision is then temporarily obscured as he lifts your shirt up and over your head. Your breath hitches, your nipples already at hardened little peaks despite being untouched.

When you see his face again, he still looks a bit sheepish, his brows furrowing with the effort of corralling his thoughts.

“I’ve thought of…You, splayed out under me.” The things he isn’t so embarrassed about come first, simple; one step at a time. You were hanging onto his every word.

He notes that you have foregone a breastband tonight, a pleasant feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he considers that you must have decided not to wear the garment in anticipation for this very thing.

Wyll’s hands come up to your waist, feeling up your sides and slowly gliding to the front of your chest; his intent was not to tease, but to appreciate. You find yourself subconsciously sitting up straighter to give him easier access—he notices.

“And…You’re full of me.” In more ways than one, his subconscious reminds him.

Your lips are parted, yearning to be kissed. Wyll doesn’t resist, melding his mouth with yours as he gently cups your breasts into his hands. You make a high-pitched whining noise, deep from the back of your throat; his callouses only added to the sensation in such a tantalizing way.

The next words are slow, careful, and said in a hushed tone against your lips. “Full of my cock, full of my seed.”

“Please,” So desperate was your tone that the following words don’t even have to be said for Wyll to understand your meaning; ‘please fill me.’

It was almost enough to make him lose himself; to pin your body with his atop the bed with his trousers yanked down just far enough for his cock to be free and rut into you with everything he had.

“Hells,” Wyll breathes, attempting to collect himself to some degree. “You always make me nearly forget myself.”

Wyll wanted to love you properly tonight, he wanted to see you in bliss under him as he took you apart with his fingers first, then his cock. His hands touching and lips kissing anywhere they could reach.

You reach out to loop two fingers into his belt, lightly tugging. Wyll was endeared by your impatience, a huff of laughter leaving him. He shifts closer to allow you to undress him.

He has to help you a little with the belt, but once that’s free everything else comes off easily.  Wyll lays you on your back to tug your long skirt off your legs in one fluid motion. You take the moment to admire your beloved husband.

Your eye is first drawn to the scars that are embedded into his dark, syrupy skin. One large scar running from his left forearm and down across his abdomen guides your eye to the wiry curls that begin sparsely under his navel and descend lower, thicker, to the very root of him. His body is toned and muscular, his figure shaped from years of adventure, combat and battle—and it showed.

“You’re so handsome, Wyll.”

Wyll’s eyes grow almost impossibly soft. “And you’re a vision.” The sincerity makes your head fuzzy and your belly pool with warmth.

He wastes no time at all in getting with you on the bed. You feel your very core pulse at the sight of his shaft, umber and flushed at the head, bobbing heavily between his legs.

Instead of settling between your thighs like you were hoping, Wyll guides you to sit up with a hand gently interlocked with his own. Your lips form into a pout, and Wyll chuckles.

“I want this to feel good for you, I need to get you ready for me first.” He rubs his thumb over the back of your wrist, soothing you.

“I thought I was already.” You playfully retort. Wyll smirks at you, his gaze soft.

“Not enough for me.” His tone sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, and with that, you let him guide you to the head of the bed, propped up by pillows. He took his spot next to you, your arm raised to loop around his shoulder so that you were tucked against his warm and solid chest.

He didn’t touch you right away just yet, though.

Wyll remembered something you had mentioned to him once before while the two of you were mutually touching one another; you really liked when he told you exactly what he wanted you to do. And at that moment Wyll realized he enjoyed giving you that direction just as much as you enjoyed receiving it. He loved feeling relied upon, even moreso when it was you relying on him, it was an extension of that in a way.

Wyll turned his tone to one of calm assertiveness, still gentle enough that if your tastes had changed between then and now it would be easy for you to reject.

“Tell me you want more.”

Your breath hitched, and Wyll felt a flush rush from his head to between his legs.

Your voice was a whining, asking thing. “My love, I want more.”

Wyll leaned his head down to kiss the shell of your ear, “Good.” His hand drifted down your stomach, further and further. “Good girl.”

You whined. Wyll felt the hairs on your mound on his fingertips, then brushed past the lips—still puffy and wet from your previous orgasm.

“Wyll, can you…” You nibble your bottom lip, seemingly working up the nerve. Wyll halts, his eyes darting to your face to make sure nothing was wrong.

You force the next words out, clearly still getting used to verbally announcing your desires. “Can you tell me more? About…About the thoughts you had…” Wyll relaxed the moment he realized you were not uncomfortable, yet his face still warmed with your request. He was quick to oblige, however, his hand continuing its gentle descent.

“I’ve imagined your stomach round, your breasts tender…” He murmurs into your hair, your eyes flutter shut, savoring his touch and his breath against your skin.

“And you’re aching for me just as I ached for you—like I’m aching for you right now.” Wyll’s calloused fingers found your clit, gently brushing over the tender bundle of nerves at first. Your bottom lip finds itself softly wedged between your teeth, a quiet and low moan threatening to slip past your lips. You weren’t overly sensitive, but your nerves were active and alight from your earlier orgasm; you flinch on reflex.

Wyll immediately shifts to get a better look at you. “Is everything okay?”

Your eyes blink open, nodding quickly. “Yes. More than. Please don’t stop.” The worry melts from Wyll’s face, and he returns to rest his head against yours.

“Good.” He murmurs against your ear, punctuating his praise with a kiss to your neck.

You part your lips to speak, only for Wyll’s fingers to begin drawing lazy circles on your clit, causing you to sharply gasp.

He chuckles warmly against your throat, which only served to fan the flames of desire within you.

You lick your lips, mulling the words over in your lovestruck mind. “You said…You’ve thought of me with ch-child…” Your words become broken as Wyll begins to prod at your clit with increasing levels of attention. You hear a soft ‘mhm’ come from him, gently urging you to continue.

“How much do you want to fill me with one?” You felt like those words, spoken by anyone else—perhaps by a more confident, experienced woman—would have been seductive, but to Wyll you were already irresistible.

He replies without skipping a beat and with such honesty it makes you ache. “I want to fill you with my child so badly, it hurts.”

You whimper, the sound strained and forced through your bitten lip. Wyll drew his head back up to your mouth, leaving a trail of light yet tender kisses as he went. His mouth slotted easily with yours once more, he didn’t break his lip lock with you as he continued his ministrations, using his ring and middle finger to continue to roll the small nub under his digits.

Your legs were shivering, moaning against his lips. “W-Wyll—“ You whimpered, he takes the opportunity of your open lips to push his tongue into your mouth.

It wasn’t the first time Wyll’s tongue had tangled with yours, but it still was a very new activity for you. You find your jaw relaxing open, coaxing him to continue.

His other hand guides your face closer to his as he unashamedly lolls his tongue further in, immediately finding yours and running over it, over your teeth. All the while his fingers begin to apply a bit of pressure to your clit in addition to picking up the pace a bit more.

Your heart was racing, the throbbing your legs growing in intensity. The swollen lips of your cunt begin to quiver and you’re certain Wyll could feel it on his fingers. Your moans became louder, but you weren’t quite there yet. Wyll could tell you were just about on the precipice.

He pulls back enough to murmur against your mouth, “Need me to go faster? Tell me what you need, love.”

“M-more, faster—“ The way your voice sounded when lost in the throes of pleasure was always something you were self conscious about, but Wyll thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He does exactly as you ask, circling smaller and faster.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” He murmured, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke.

“Goodness, k-keep saying things like that—“ You manage to gasp out, reminding yourself of the times when your husband asked you to let him know when he was doing something you liked.

Fortunately for you, Wyll had a remarkable knack for saying things that just so happened to make your heart flutter and your body burn with desire.

“There it is, come on. I can feel you aching for me, you want me to make you a mother, don’t you? My sweet girl.” His voice is low and soft, egging you on.

“You’re my everything. Everything, my heart.” His voice makes your heart clench and your thighs quiver.

Your legs tensed, your eyelids fluttering as your jaw went slack.

Your heart skips a beat at the term of endearment, he kisses you again—with the same slow passion as before, and finally the ache you feel reaches its peak; pulsating hard again and again and again.

His name is spilling from your lips in short, breathless gasps.

“There we are.” He soothes, his fingers still working to ride out your orgasm.

Your moans become more quiet and less drawn as your orgasm mellows out and dissipates in the most pleasant warmth across your body. Wyll’s fingers slow to a stop.

You could feel him hum against you as he slowly pulls away to break the kiss, he has a warm, gentle smile on his face—the love plain in his eyes.

“That was rather fast.” You couldn’t tell if that was more of a question on his part or an observation, either way there’s a lilt in his low tone. Evidently pleased that he could pleasure you in such a way, You feel your cheeks become invitingly warm.

Your mind was still swimming in the pleasant afterglow of your orgasm, Wyll smiles sweetly at you, then gives you a kiss on your cheek.

You breathing finally relaxes, “Thank you. That felt really good.” You sounded breathless, your husband chuckles next to you. “You don’t need to thank me, my love. Your pleasure is my own.”

Wyll then wraps his arms around your waist to lift you up and hold you close against him, your legs straddling his lap. He cradled you there for a moment, his fingers softly running through your hair. Your face was nestled into his neck, your arms wrapped around him in kind.

The tenderness of it all made your heart throb with sentimentality in your chest. You felt so adored in that moment, small and vulnerable in his arms—strong and scarred and around you so soothingly. You had fought for so long, and before that you had no other choice than to survive. To be here with the man you loved, who loved you just the same…

And to think, that the halls of the home you made with Wyll would be filled with the pitter-patters of small feet before you knew it.

“Wyll, I love you.” Your voice is a gentle whisper, laying a soft kiss on the column of his throat. He cradles your head further, lowering his own enough to press a kiss of his own into your hair.

“I love you too, I always will.” He murmurs. You shudder against him.

“Do you need a moment, love?” Wyll wanted you to enjoy this, tonight was all about you—as was every time you touched one another, one time you had to gently convince the man that his pleasure was just as important as yours. So devoted was he, that he prioritized you every time.

Wyll had always been like that; putting others first, putting duty first. (Viewing himself as a justifiable sacrifice.)

(You loved him for it, but you also made sure to let him to know he was more than just the blade, that he was worth fighting for, too—on multiple occasions.)

You were rather sensitive, and while you didn’t think you necessarily needed a moment of rest you were happy to take one of it meant you could pleasure Wyll in the meantime.

“I want to touch you now.” You bluntly exclaim, wiggling out of his lap. Wyll laughs, almost bashful.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to—“

“Do you want me to touch you, beloved?” You cock your head at him, your eyes wide and giving him your undivided attention. Wyll swallows.

“I do.”

You find your positions swap somewhat—this time Wyll is leaning back against pillows, and you are by his side; albeit a bit lower.

Wyll’s dick had been standing at attention since the two of you sat on the bed, and now you could finally pleasure him.

You unceremoniously spit in your palm, no nonsense. You think you hear Wyll snicker, when you turn to look at him to shoot him a playful smile, you see he’s already staring at you, relaxed and as loving as always.

Your warm, wet palm wraps around him, gently pulling his foreskin back to collect the precum dripping out from his tip with your thumb.

“Ah, hells—“ He groans, your name following soon after, low and drawn out. You feel the most delightful butterflies in your stomach. Your fist slides up and then returns again and again, his skin rolling up and over the head and catching any slick from the very tip of him. Smooth and fluid.

Your other hand squeezes his muscular thigh, making the tendons there twitch. You slide your hand up further to gingerly cup his sac. Wyll subconsciously spreads his thighs ever so slightly apart, giving you more access. His heart is a drum in his chest.

Wyll grits his teeth, he has to, your touch combined with the thoughts swimming around his mind would be enough for him to come undone entirely, the image of you splayed out under him, cunt dripping with his spend—

Wyll gasps, hips bucking upward not of his own accord. His half-lidded eyes glued to the sight of his shaft, umber and aching, poking out and down again, disappearing in your dainty hand.

Your hands continuing to stroke his cock and fondle his balls. His skin was soft and velvety in your hand, the flesh underneath firm and throbbing. Precum beaded plentifully at his tip, the head flushed needily. The sight just about made your mouth water.

It was a curious thought. You and Wyll had discussed your sexual desires before, he was your first, and you were rather sheltered when it came to such matters. It was fortunate you were with a man so kind and understanding as he.

You were aware that sometimes, men and women…Put their mouths upon one another. Kind of like a kiss, but also quite not.

You had never tried it before. You suddenly wanted to.

“Wyll?”

He gives you a sound between a hum and a groan in acknowledgment.

“Can I try putting my mouth on you?”

His eyes fly open, his brows nearly up to his hairline. He clears his throat. “Oh. You don’t have to do that.”

“I would like to try it.” You reply simply, then stutter out a hasty correction. “Only if you want to as well, my love.” You didn’t want to accidentally pressure Wyll into something he didn’t want.

Wyll huffs out a laugh in mild disbelief. “I want to, more than you know.” Your expression eases at his admission, and your tongue subconsciously darts out to wet your lower lip.

You think you had an idea of how this went…

You part your lips, and take the head of him into your mouth. You hear Wyll hiss a curse through his teeth. The taste was interesting; the only way you could think to describe it was skin and salt.

It tastes good because it’s Wyll.

Your tongue ran sloppily and hungrily over his shaft, like you would a candy, lapping over his head and incidentally laving over and under his foreskin, even dipping into his slit occasionally. Wyll gasped, his jaw tensing and relaxing, one of his hands white-knuckling the sheets, the other shot up to your head.

Your eyes shoot up at him at first in concern, but any worry is melted away by the desperate quality in his gaze and the gentle hand upon your head urging you to continue. You resume your ministrations, one hand still fondling him while the other rubbed at the parts of him your mouth couldn’t reach.

You certainly weren’t experienced with this, and Wyll could tell—but that didn’t matter.

It felt good because it’s you.

It didn’t feel unpleasant, far from it, the attention you were lavishing on him was testing his resolve to a remarkable degree.

You then begin to lick, first starting at his slit and then dragging downwards.

“Shit,” Wyll breathes out your name, “Right there, love.” Your brows slightly crease in concentration as you try to find the spot.

No, a little higher—not that high—yes, closer. Gods, right there.

You lapped at his frenulum, solely from observation you concluded that spot was particularly sensitive. You felt the hand in your hair tense as his fingers tightened with his increasing pleasure.

As you continued to lap and fondle him, you wondered if he would enjoy your mouth where your opposite hand was currently occupying.

You pull away from him, Wyll grunts at the loss of contact, his dick gives a desperate twitch.

“Do you want my mouth here, too?” You delicately roll his balls in your palm for emphasis. Wyll practically wheezes.

He hesitates for a moment, considering what it was you were wordlessly asking before giving a small nod.

His body twitches with a barely there flinch at the speed in which you rearrange yourself to carry out the act. Wyll finds himself spreading his legs a bit more to make things easier for you, his face and body ablaze.

Your lips part to take one of his balls into your mouth, the second he feels your tongue lap at him he cusses under his breath.

“Oh, love…Like that.” Wyll sighs, his eyes almost fluttering shut.

You alternated between them for a moment, before you felt Wyll’s hand cradle the back of your head to gently urge you upwards back towards his cock; you happily obliged, alternating between sucking his cock and balls, his thighs twitching occasionally with the attention.

He was so, so close. Another night, he would finish in your mouth, but he had promised you that you would end the night with his seed planted in your womb—and he had every intention of keeping to his word.

Wyll had never been so thoroughly lavished with attention like this until you. It was taking a considerable amount of self control to not just simply let go and finish down your willing throat.

“Shit.” He grunts throatily, freeing his hand from the sheets to cup your cheek and gently ease you off him.

You give him one last hard suck, forcing a guttural moan to be punched out his lungs—a sound that sent a rush of heat pooling between your legs. That sound was one very close your beloved husband made when he was just about nearing his completion.

Your eyes can’t help but admire his arousal—it was right in front of you, after all. Twitching and coated in your spit and his precum, the former of which was all the way down to his sac. His hand fell from your hair and rested limply on his stomach.

His expression is gorgeous, his chest heavily rising and falling, lids half-closed, a slight crease in his brow. A thin layer of sweat on his body, accentuating every contour of his form, the deep tones of his scarred skin glistening in the moonlight.

Gods, you utterly adored this man.

As he caught his breath and willed himself to settle down, you crawled back up to him, kissing his cheek. He tilted his head just so to catch your lips with his, fingers coming up to curl under your chin and bring you closer.

“I love you.” You whisper, laying a hand on his chest. You could feel his heart was beating just as intensely as yours was.

“I love you.” Wyll repeats, his other hand coming to settle on your lower back.

He pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, his fingers still lifting up your chin. “My sun, my star…Let me do what I promised you. Lay on your back.”

Exhilaration shot up your spine, you nod—not trusting your voice—and before you know it your splayed out on your back for him and he’s between your spread legs.

“You’ll make such a beautiful mother.” Wyll says conversationally, his thumb sweeping over the swell of your clit, puffy and tender to the touch. A ghost of a smile on his mouth and adoration in his mismatched eyes. Your hips inch upwards towards his touch, needy.

“You’re so wet for me…You want this, don’t you, my sweet girl?” You nod frantically, but Wyll wanted to hear you say it.

“Talk to me, love.” You shiver at his tone.

“I want this, I want you, Wyll. I love you.” Wyll’s eyes go gentle and soft; adoring. That look always made your heart wrench in such a tender way.

“I love you,” The familiar, calloused fingers prodding at your weeping cunt retreat to smear your arousal across his shaft. “With everything I’ve got to give and then some, I love you.”

Then you were met with the unmistakable feeling of Wyll’s cock sliding up the length of your pussy, the throbbing head almost catching on your twitching hole clenching desperately around nothing.

“My love, let me have you.” Wyll’s voice is a strained rasp, your spine tingles with a rush of anticipation. You spread your legs a tad wider in unabashed invitation, one that Wyll takes.

One firm hand was on your pelvis, keeping you in place, then he guided the fat head of his cock, pressing in.

A long, wobbly whine claws out your throat as he sheathes inside you. It was one long, slow press. It wasn’t like your fingers nor his, and even with the attention so selflessly lavished upon you, you find your breath catching.

The dull ache in your core flickers and sparks, bordering on discomfort, you wanted more; like picking off a scab or tonguing a loose tooth. Welcoming the ache and craving it.

It was dizzying, the need that you felt.

Wyll crowds over you, his body crushing into yours and pressing you against the bed. His arms wrap around you and yours wrap around his shoulders, your own hands joining together in a shaky grip. A soft gasp leaves your throat, You felt so small and precious under him, something to be cherished and taken care of. It was such a visceral feeling, almost possessive.

A deep and broken moan rumbles against your chest as Wyll bottoms out. You try to get air back into your lungs, panting and bare under him. Your legs wrap around his waist without you being consciously aware of it.

Then the swollen head of Wyll’s shaft slides out, then back in with a snap of his hips.

“Unh—Ah!” You choke out, the ache growing stronger yet being soothed all at once.

“You’re so perfect.” Wyll bites out, so quiet that you don’t think you’re meant to hear it.

The night air began to be filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the wet slap of skin on skin.

You felt like you were burning—red hot and molten, melting into a puddle. He murmured words of soft encouragement, occasionally punctuated with a cuss forced out of his throat.

You couldn’t help the way your waist instinctually squirmed under him, he was pressing so deeply into you, you didn’t know what else to do with the throbbing you felt. You were breathing hard. You wanted more, you wanted him. Both your heart and body ached.

You couldn’t help the way you were squirming—a reflex due to how pleasured you were. Wyll was well aware of how your body reacted to intense arousal, so he simply adjusted his arms and purposefully ground his hips down into you to keep you still as he bred you.

Wyll kept you pinned under his weight, his toned thighs and abdomen pressing against you with every deep thrust.

He then lifts his torso off you, his hands now possessively gripping your hips, the slight change in position exhilarates you.

You were whimpering under him, and by the looks of it, he took great pleasure in that. His gaze never left you, his eyes soft, yearning. You felt a blaze bloom across your cheeks when your eyes met his, a quiet whimper was let out past your lips before you flicked your eyes away on instinct.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The gentleness never left his words, yet there was a hint of that soft assertiveness that made your legs feel wobbly. You found yourself complying almost instantly, without resistance. Wyll’s breath catches.

Soft gasps spilled from your lips with every other breath. Your hands found Wyll’s wrists, holding onto them and tightening whenever he drove into a particularly sensitive spot. His own heart yearned for your touch, a part of him relishing how plainly you needed to touch him just to steady yourself.

“That feels good, doesn’t it.” His voice was low, softly murmured between groans. That tone of voice alongside what he was saying was enough to send the most pleasant tremble up your spine, your cunt squeezing him, his heavy balls smacking against you with each swift snap of his hips.

Your hands subconsciously drifted up to his forearms, the back of your mind noting the scars there as your hands made their ascent. Wyll’s arms were just about taut, the muscles there working to hold you firmly in his grasp. You couldn’t move them an inch, you loved how he was holding you.

How safe you felt with him.

“I love you.” His voice was heavy with affection. “And I’ll love every child of ours you’ll carry…” He groaned out. You couldn’t stop the desperate moan escaping you even if you wanted. Neither you nor Wyll had mentioned a specific number of children, just that you both desired them; it was electrifying to imagine more than one.

“I love you.“ Your voice was breathless. “Please, Wyll, fill me with you.”

“Make me a mother. Please.” Your mind was in a love-drunk haze, you were certain later you would perhaps be a bit embarrassed at such a bold admission of your deepest want, but right now Wyll was looking at you like you were his moon and sun; with nothing but adoration and want.

At this, Wyll moans, guttural and deep. “Gods,” Wyll almost whines, his hips rutting desperately into you. “Just look at you.”

“You’re taking this so well, you’re being so good for me, so good for your husband…”

Wyll was yearning for you; the thought of your stomach round with his babe, the thought that he was the one responsible for it—and that everyone would know—the fact you shared the same desire as he, sent his mind in a haze and his body into a feverish frenzy.

His hips thrusted intensely, his hold on you passionate and demanding. Wyll’s eyes remained fixed on you, observing every expression and shudder.

“Oh, Wyll, take me. I’m yours.“ You whine out, your hips continuing to instinctively writhe against his in tandem with every thrust.

He lets out a stuttered groan, your words, the sound of your moans, it was all borderline intoxicating. It almost punches the air out of his lungs, he didn’t realize how much he enjoyed hearing you state your union to him in this way. Wyll wasn’t what one would call possessive, but he was devoted; and what you had said ignited a desire in him he wasn’t fully aware of until now.

“Hells.” He almost chokes out. “You are. As I am yours, you are mine.” Love poured out of every word, with an undercurrent of deep desire, a certain primal quality to it. You whimper breathlessly as Wyll’s rhythm quickened, rutting deeply. He moaned lowly, his brows furrowing with the effort. He wanted to melt into you—he wanted to breedyou.

“Oh, oh gods—“ You whine desperately, a high-pitched tone that he had heard before. “Sweetheart, I want you to kiss me.” You whimper. The look on your face was so sweet, your chest rising and falling, your nipples at hardened peaks despite not even being touched, your eyes half-lidded and yearning…Wyll couldn’t resist you. And even then, why would he ever want to?

Wyll’s lips curl into a weak simper, fondness plain in his eyes. He shifts on you a bit, moving to rest on his elbows, your hands slide up to cradle the back of his neck with the motion. His rhythm slows, but his shaft pumps into your heat just as deeply as before. You feel like it’s easier to catch your breath, quiet moans still come from both you and Wyll.

Now that he was situated further on top of you, his face close enough to kiss you now. He cradles the back of your head in his scarred, gentle hands. His thumbs tracing small circles in your cheeks, his lips are just barely parted, his beautiful brown and stone eyes taking you in.

You have to strain your ears to hear what he whispers; “So beautiful.”

“So handsome.” You reply in the same hushed tone.

He smiles at this. His eyes crinkling, teeth showing, lips lopsided. It makes your chest tighten, your heart sing.

His hips lazily roll against you, making you shudder. While your lips part in a silent gasp Wyll pulls you into a kiss. Warm and syrupy, his mouth molding against yours in a tender lip lock.

“Was that alright?” His voice is husky, the question is spoken in pieces between kisses. Your mind blanks, so preoccupied with his mouth and the press of his hips and cock in you that you hadn’t the faintest clue what he was referring to. You almost reply ‘yes’ regardless, everything he had done and currently was doing was perfect.

Wyll, being ever perceptive of you in that way only one deeply in love could, elaborates. To do so he had to break your kiss, which resulted in you pouting and momentarily chasing his lips. His hips hadn’t quite slowed to a stop, but it was close. Wyll softly chuckles, giving you one last chaste kiss before speaking.

The soft smile on his face fades away. “I wasn’t being to…” He almost struggles to find the words. “Intense?” Wyll admitted to himself he got just a little carried away for a moment there earlier, heat crept up his neck.

Your brows raise. “Too intense? No, not at all.” The corners of his mouth quirk up again, you find yours do too.

“I…Actually rather liked it—loved it, actually.” You bashfully admit. Wyll’s eyes widen briefly only to be replaced with a pleased glint in his eye.

“You’re sure?”

“More than I’ve ever been.”

“Do you want more of that, sweet girl?”

You wordlessly nod.

Wyll’s lips tug into a gentle smirk. “I couldn’t hear you, my love. Tell me.” He says, a soft directness in his tone that made butterflies swirl in your stomach.

“Give me more. I want more.”

Wyll pulls you into a kiss as he begins to passionately pump his hips into you.

Your body trembles under him, moaning into his mouth, he groaning into yours. Only punctuated by the soft slaps of your coupling.

Your legs began to shake around his waist, lightheaded and raw with nerves.

“Oh, you’re shaking, love...” He places lazy, wet kisses across your lips, your face, your neck.

You’re completely overwhelmed with him, you wanted him to take you wholly, and it felt like he was.

“Are you going to come?” His lips were against your ear, your face hot and his voice husky. You moan breathlessly, your legs quivering in and out of sync with the throbbing aches between your legs.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” You grit your teeth, your fingers curling into his back.

“Y-yes—Wyll.” His name came out as a high-pitched whine, the hands you had on his scarred back could feel the way a shudder rolled through him.

You found your limbs at odds with the sensitivity your body was entrenched with; simultaneously rocking into and away from his hips, legs squeezing and going limp at random intervals.

“Come for me.” He rasped, the sentence spoken between breathless kisses. Your legs were shivering, your toes curled and your eyes pinched shut.

“You’re almost there, let go…”

“Wyll—“ You whined, your body going rigid as your orgasm wracked your body. You gasp and stutter as you swallow air back into your lungs, your hips writhing upwards into his own on instinct.

You hear Wyll groan deep, wobbly and strained. The rolling pleasure doesn’t cease, your vision going dim as your climax tears through you, it was almost too much. He doesn’t let up, his hips continuing to rock, riding out the waves of your orgasm; his own rising within him just from seeing yours—from feeling yours.

“Gods, haah—That’s it…” Wyll pants, the hands gripping your head only tangled itself further as he began to intensely kiss you, swallowing your moans with a low, shameless sound of his own.

His pace was still relentless, he pressed himself against you, effectively pinning you under his body as you could do nothing but take him.

You couldn’t help but admire him, his expression was that of pure arousal, his lips slightly parted, his sounds of pleasure increasing in frequency.

You tilted your head up a bit, and began kissing his cheek and neck.

“You’re going to look radiant, round with my child…” He moaned your name, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic, bottoming out repeatedly in you, his thighs began to quiver slightly.

And, oh, what a beautiful sight he was.

His eyes half shut, long lashes almost fluttering against his cheekbones, his mouth open in a silent moan; his cock twitched harshly within you and his balls tensed against you…

“O-oh, shit—“ Your name followed shakily on his tongue, desperate and sweet. He felt like he was ablaze, his climax was cresting over him, his hips harshly rutting in short, quick thrusts, unbridled. Chasing his own pleasure. Your legs hooked tightly around his waist, your heels pressing into his ass to urge him forward, deeper, more.

Wyll is only somewhat aware that your name, broken and cracking, scrapes out his throat, again and again with each slam of his hips. His cock kicking with every rope of cum shot into your core, his seed kissing your womb. Wyll’s jaw went slack in a drawn out moan of your name.

His lids squeeze shut, he feels stars in his eyes. Losing himself in the tight heat of your body, milking him. He had never reached his peak so harshly before, nor for so long.

“Ah, ah—ah—“ He hiccups, the air rushing back into his lungs faster than his mind can register.

Wyll’s head flops down and into your neck, burying there. His hips arch forwards, taut and on reflex, one last rope of cum shot out of him, then you both go limp and unmoving. His whole body shuddering in satisfaction, as was yours.

Your minds linger in hazy afterglow, your hearts beating as one.

Wyll’s mind is the first to swim up to the surface, nuzzling his head against yours and being met with the scent of lavender that still clung to your hair.

“My love, my star…” Wyll murmurs, his voice a low rasp. It was beginning to sink in, hoping that his seed would take root and grow…

Wyll says your name, It’s quiet, intimate, almost rough. Your heart aches, your mind still spinning and you were left wordless. You yourself were still in the thick of your afterglow, your mind half-aware and your body enveloped in a pleasant buzz.

Wyll shifts, and for a moment you think he’s going to pull himself out of you, but he doesn’t; instead he gently adjusts his hips this way and that, your breath catches in your throat as a moan is coaxed out of you.

Your face feels pleasantly warm, yet the air of the room feels cool with the perspiration on your skin. Your body burns ever hotter when you realize he was settling upon you, all while his shaft was still buried in you, softening bit by bit.

“Oh, Wyll—“ You croak, feeling his cock shift inside you with the slight movement. Your body was still tender, and you were still basking in post-coital butterflies. You can’t help but shudder.

The soft tremble on your skin seems to sober Wyll almost immediately. He lifts up just enough to get a look at your face, concern lacing his words.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” You swallow thickly, your hands gliding up his back to urge him to rest back down on you like before. As he complies, your thoroughly ravished hole clenches as his softened cock bumps into a particular spot, almost making you yelp. “It’s just—Oh, goodness—“ You practically wheeze.

You were greedy for his affections, and truthfully you wanted him to stay put, the thought of his cock stopping up his seed and keeping it from dribbling out of you was one that sent an unexpected bolt of arousal through you.

Wyll had immediately come down to his earthly senses at this point, and realized that you were rather tender. He murmurs encouragement as he steadily pulls himself out from you, gently soothing you as you jolt and whimper from the sensation of his head popping free.

“Stay right there.” Wyll gently whispers to you before languidly lifting himself up and off of you, you make a displeased noise from the lack of contact and body heat, but that is remedied as soon as he grabs one of the many pillows nearby your head.

He then lifts your hips up with one firm hand on your tailbone, as easy as anything, and tucks a pillow under there.

With your hips at this slight tilted up angle there wasn’t much of a chance for his spend to drip out, you realize with a pleasant shudder.

The bed shifts as Wyll lays next to you, not before pulling the blankets over your naked bodies. The fabric was cool and welcoming on your skin. Wyll nestles close, you feel the hairs on his forearm tickle you as he lays it over your midsection, his scarred cheek gently pressing into yours with an affectionate nuzzle.

You lay your hand over his, your thumb idly tracing old nicks and scratches on the back of his knuckles.

“How are you feeling, love? Do you need anything?” Wyll quietly murmured against your cheek, gently fretting over you. You smile sleepily at him, your gaze warm and sated.

“No. I feel perfect.” You exhaled breezily, your eyelids feeling increasingly heavier by the second.

“Good.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

“What about you? How do you feel?” You then ask.

Wyll kisses your cheek, chaste, yet loving all the same. “Like I’ve just drank sunlight.”

His hand, calloused and strong, slides down to the smooth and flat plane of your stomach. His thumb rubs soothing circles there. You think about how hopefully, in a few months time, his hand would be lifted up higher on the curve of a rounded belly.

For a moment the room falls into a peaceful silence, the presence of your beloved and the sounds of nature outside the walls of your home lulling you to a state of relaxation. The thumb on your stomach slows to a halt as you and Wyll’s breathing falls into a gentle rhythm.

“Wyll.” You’re quiet enough that if he had fallen asleep, you would not have woken him up.

“Mm…?” He hums tiredly, half-aware.

“I think you’ll make an excellent father.” You muse aloud. The thought just crossed your mind. You can feel his lips tug into a smile against your cheek.

“And I think you will make an excellent mother.” He nestles his head against yours, you find yourself subconsciously leaning into it.

Your heart aches for him.

“I hope…It, well, takes.” You sheepishly admit, Wyll smirks joyfully and hums in agreement.

“As do I. And in the event that it doesn’t, we can always try again.” He soothes, his voice sweet.

“I wish I was as good at words as you, but truly; you mean so much to me.” You suddenly exclaim. Wyll’s entire body is at ease with yours, his lips shift, seemingly taking your words in.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, only for him and the night to hear.

A slight turn of the head is all it takes for Wyll to kiss you, his lips moving tenderly. The hand that had been on your abdomen comes up to cradle your face, deepening the kiss. He plants one last one to the corner of your mouth before pulling away.

“I love you too, to the point that I can scarcely call my heart my own anymore.” He murmurs. Wyll had such a command over words, almost always spoke in poetics when it came to love, and it always was remarkably sincere.

You turn a little to your side to wrap your arms around him, pressing yourself as much as possible to him. Wyll’s hand falls to your hip, steadying you until you’re all settled in your new position.

He cradles you wholly, then. It didn’t take long at all for you to fall asleep, you felt loved—you still felt said love on your skin and in your most intimate places—and secure. Snuggling into a solid chest with familiar scars that danced across your skin, you felt at home. From there, you slept.

Wyll is comfortable. Warm, satisfied and wrapped up in lithe arms who clutched him like the most precious treasure. He, too, felt loved. In his heart and the very marrow of his bones.

His scarred arms held you close to his chest, cherished and adored, your hearts lulling into sync. The unfamiliar had become familiar ever since he had met you, and before he drifted off he thought of the next page of your lives together turning to reveal a new addition.

The sun is especially proud today, golden and warm. The sky is a vivid blue and the clouds are fluffy, enough to decorate the sky and not too plentiful as to dull the vibrancy of the day entirely.

Butterflies fluttered lazily in the air, landing on one of the many wildflowers that resided in the area surrounding your shared cottage.

It had been weeks since your last cycle. Your hand reaches out to brush over long sheaves of grass and flowers, occasionally feeling the petals delicately between your fingers as you walked.

A barely-there smile was on your lips, nervous and excited.

You had been anxious to tell your husband; you wanted to be certain first so that if it was a fluke the only person who would be disappointed would be you, now you were sure. A little person, small and beautiful, was growing within you.

Unwittingly, your smile grew larger.

As you neared your destination you heard the sound of metal weaving in the air with fluid precision, you knew the sound well by now.

Unlike you, Wyll still needed to keep his combat ability sharp, which required practice; something he never slacked off on. His discipline was admirable.

Your bare feet sink in the grass and further still into the soil, each step effortless and quiet. You lean against a nearby tree, its trunk thick and old, and take a moment to watch your husband with fondness.

During a maneuver, Wyll catches you in his peripheral, his reflexes almost twitching him into a battle-ready stance before recognizing you and immediately relaxing.

You smile at him, teeth showing.

He says your name, as honey-sweet as it always was on his tongue.

“Wyll.” You reply, your excitement threatening to boil over. “Can I have a word?” You cock your head slightly, your tone still light.

Wyll sheathed his blade and wiped the sweat from his brow with a cloth, his attention now fully fixed on you. “Of course, my love. What’s on your mind?” He came over to you in no rush, his steps easy.

When he comes close enough you lightly wrap your fingers around his wrist, each digit elegantly folding over one by one, your thumb running over the back of his hand. He tilts his head, smiling, mildly bemused and curious.

You take a deep breath in.

“I’m…I’m with child.”

And for a single breath Wyll is utterly still, his eyes wide. Then the most radiant smile broke across his face, his lips letting out a breathless laugh.

“Are you serious?” His voice was trembling with excitement, you felt butterflies swoop in your stomach.

“Yes! I am,” You chirped, “I made sure of it myself—“

Before you could finish, your feet were no longer on solid ground. Wyll had swept you into his arms and spun through the air, the sound of your combined laughter ringing through the breeze sweeter than any birdsong.

“We’re going to be parents!” The joy was so plain in his exclamation that your heart swelled. Your dress billowed in the summer breeze and you wanted to cherish this moment forever.

He set you down gently, his arms still around you. He kissed you deeply, his hands cupping your waist and pulling you close. When he pulled back he still was beaming, still relishing in the jubilation of the news.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Wyll’s thumb had brushed a tear away from your cheek. One of his hands now cupping your face, you try to blink away any more tears of joy but your sight becomes blurred despite your efforts.

“Oh, my light…” He murmurs, low and gentle.

“Bah,” You sniffle, waving your hand. “I’m sorry, I just—I’m happy.”

“Never apologize for your joy, my love. Your happiness is mine.” He kisses your forehead, and you sigh out shakily, your heart so full you barely knew what to do with it.

“Gods, I’m so thrilled—I’m going to be a father. We are going to be parents.” He says aloud, barely able to contain his excitement. You both laugh, your joy bubbling up and out of your throats, you nestle into his chest, staining his shirt with your jubilant tears, and he cradles you there.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others—I can’t wait to tell my father!” He laughs breathlessly and without restraint, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You can’t stop smiling, you hug onto him tighter than you think you’ve ever had. Words fail you as you let yourself be swept up in the joy of the moment, and allow your tears to flow freely.

Wyll gently guides your head up to look at him. The adoration in his eyes was clearer than any mirror.

“I love you.” His tone made your chest tighten in the sweetest way.

“I love you, Wyll.”

He leans down to catch your lips, honeyed and warm.

What a blessing it was to be able to say that your happily ever was the life you were now living.

I’m still in the middle of playing the game, but I just couldn’t wait anymore to finish it to write something with Wyll. He’s so sweet and handsome and gentlemanly and brave and full of righteous anger and oh goodness I love him. 🥺

I’ve been in a bit of a writing rut, but Wyll got me out of it! <3

Based solely off some of the more popular jokes and art I saw of the game, I didn’t expect a character like Wyll at all! He was such a joyous surprise, I romanced him the instant I knew I could!!

Alas, I’m seemingly cursed to almost always love the least popular characters, but I have a lot more reader inserts planned with Wyll that follow a similar tone to this one. (So I hope to give Wyll admirers like me more to read!)

Wyll has firm boundaries with sex, and in a banter with Astarion he says he’s always been old-fashioned (in regards to love and sex) and doesn’t care for ‘loveless flings,’ but in that same banter he states he isn’t sheltered. I kept that and other pieces of dialogue in mind while writing him. (And yes, I love his traditional fairytale view of love too!)

As a hopeless romantic I feel like I can relate to him in that way haha.

So with that in mind I wanted to write him where he’s leading how things go during sex, I think he would just take initiative like that by default. I’ve read quite a few stories where Wyll takes on a passive role, but in my head I imagined something different; hopefully I got across that sort of gentle and loving assertiveness in my writing. Also, I’m biased towards that kind of thing and wished there was more reader-inserts and art that took that angle with Wyll, personally. I want to be taken care of by him and I feel like he would be more than happy to!

All that being said, I hope I characterized him well enough here.

Despite being one of the few things I’m into I haven’t publicly shared any breeding reader-inserts in awhile, I felt like that sort of thing would work with Wyll.

I’m not actually sure how pregnancy tests work in this setting, or if they even exist at all. While it isn’t directly mentioned in this story the reader is a cleric, so I just hand waved it away with some magic. She knows for certain she’s pregnant somehow and that’s that!

The idea of him and the reader living in a rural cottage comes from a clip of Wyll’s voice actor answering the question of what he imagined a happy canonical ending would be look like for Wyll, I thought it was so cute so I just had to include it. ( *ˊᵕˋ* )

Another thing that was inspired by Wyll’s voice actor was when I found out he also voiced Bernard, and ever since I couldn’t get the the thought of Wyll saying “sweet girl” out of my head. ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

The song “In a Good Way” by Faye Webster was stuck in my head while writing a large portion of this, It reminded me a lot of my character and Wyll, maybe you should give it a listen!

I also added the gentle dom tags as I couldn't figure out how else to describe the dynamic here, for me when I hear the word "dom" or "sub" I think of BDSM which isn't what this story is but like I said before I couldn't think of any other terminology to use for tags.

As always, thank you so much for reading! I deeply appreciate any and all comments, likes and reblogs! It makes me happy to read them. And on that note, please feel free to let me know what you thought of this one!

I hope you enjoyed! 🫶

[checkeredflagggs]

Three Hearts Left

Pairing: max verstappen x fem!gamer!reader

summary: fans (and friends) are shocked when they find max is married and to who

a/n: I’m only a casual gamer so take it with a grain of salt

a/n 2: sorry it’s a really late - the weather hates me personally (it is actually September and doesn’t need to be 85* 😡) and it drained my creativity also I got hella sick so 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n 3: I know I use the name Twitter when talking about that site. I’ll stop deadnaming it when musk rat does too

a/n 4: still not feeling 100% but I wanted to get this out for max’s bday!!

catpawsgaming

Welcome to the CatTree with the paw prints 🐾 ! I’m just a cat 🐈 mom Lady™ who loves the gaming but not the camera 📷. I’ve been playing games all my life and have been streaming for 3 years — as a hobby, not a full time job. I love my 2 cats, my handsome man, and you 🫵 all my lovely fans. You most definitely make all this worthwhile so mwah mwah 💋💋 (video)

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 6,583,455 others

catpawsgaming: here we go! Baldur’s Gate 3 has been highly highly requested — so I bought it! …yesterday and forgot about it cause curse of capitalism I still have my day job 😭 but away we go!

As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)

Next stream date and game tbh announced but will probably be this Sunday with Animal Crossing (fingers crossed 🤞🤞 I finally get a good turnip price 😭😭 Daisy Mae hasn’t been kind to me lately…)

view all comments

user1: guuuurrrrrrrllll it’s about time you got bg3! We been waiting

↳ catpawsgaming: definitely worth the wait though! I had so much fun and it was so hard to stop for the night

↳ user2: for sure it was 🤣 your reactions to shadowheart and astarion were hilarious

↳ catpawsgaming: they clocked my type on point

user3: glad we convinced you to become a bard! You’ll rock it 💙

↳ catpawsgaming: ok but this the closest you will get me to actually performing so enjoy it while it lasts

↳ user3: not gonna sing along?

↳ catpawsgaming: 🤣🤣🤣 🫵 🤡

↳ catpawsgaming: absolutely not.

↳ catpawsgaming: also handsome just bust out laughing at the thought of me singing so…🙄🙄🙄 he’s lucky I love him

↳ handsome: I am very lucky liefje

↳ user3: ahhhh we were so close to her singing but also awwww cause handsome is here!!

handsome: liefje this was amazing

↳ catpawsgaming: thank you 🥰🥰

↳ catpawsgaming: but also you were laughing at me the entire night so…

↳ catpawsgaming: not sure how much I believe you

↳ handsome: well I didn’t say it was good…

↳ catpawsgaming: 🤨😒😔😢

↳ handsome: 🥰🥰🥰

user4: oh to have a man that will spend hours with you doing separate hobbies together…

↳ catpawsgaming: gotta admit it’s the dream

↳ handsome: you’re the dream liefje

↳ user4: ok there handsome, no need to get sappy here on MY comment thread

Private Messages

mv1updates

liked by user, user, user, and 2,833,736 others

mv1updates: Max was streaming today! Just a short one but highly entertaining. Jimmy (or Sassy? I’m honestly baffled and for the life of me can’t tell them apart 😢) caused a small disturbance in the middle of his stream then slept the rest away in Max’s lap 😍

view all comments

user5: that was sooooo adorable!! Love seeing more cat dad Max

↳ user6: same! And don’t feel bad admin - I can’t tell them apart either

user7: to be Jimmy…🥵

↳ user8: right? What I wouldn’t give to be sleeping away in his lap…

↳ user9: blessed be. His damn thighs man 😳

user10: ok but am I the only one that heard a female voice in the background?

↳ user11: I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE?? Like there was definitely someone there

↳ user12: wait when?

↳ user10: when max turned the camera to show jimmy on top

Private Messages

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 5,822,944 others

catpawsgaming: and Daisy Mae delivered this week! Sunday I got a price of 90 and today!! Selling price of turnips is 658 this evening!! Woohoo!

I've got my usual set up going to allow visitors to sell and I’ll be playing for about 4 or 5 hours so let’s make some cash today! I just ask you be respectful of my island.

As always, if you didn’t manage to catch my livestream it’ll be on my page and I’ll be uploading it to my YouTube channel tomorrow! My YouTube will have the 3 usual versions (one unedited with my reactions, one with just the game play, and one with no sound at all but with closed captions)

My week is looking pretty busy (a lot of traveling happening) so my next stream will probably be sometime next week and I’ll be playing Horizon: Zero Dawn! Its sequel will be coming out soon and I want to replay the first to refamiliarize myself with the game!

view all comments

user13: yeessssss! I’ve been holding out that someone would have some fantastic selling prices this week! New house upgrade here I come!

↳ user14: oh don’t I know it! It’s been a downward slump all week for me — the high was 105 😭😭

↳ user13: ouch 🤕

user15: did anyone else hear the cat meowing in the background!

↳ user16: yes! Catpaws has got a couple of cats — they’re almost never on stream (they don’t like staying in one place for long) but catpaws got them right before they started streaming!

↳ catpawsgaming: 2 of them! They’re my babies! 🐈🐈

↳ user15: awwwww 😍😍

user17: can I say something? Is this a safe place?

↳ user18: it is not but say it anyway

↳ user17: it totally looks like she’s got a wedding ring on in the beginning of this stream

↳ user18: nurse! She’s out again

↳ user19: no no no let her cook. I totally thought the same. It was literally just a glimpse but I swear that she had a ring on

↳ user17: thank you! I knew I wasn’t crazy

↳ user19: but! That does mean our catpaws is married!!!!!

↳ user17: 😱

↳ user18: 😱

↳ user19: 😱

↳ catpawsgaming: 😉

↳ handsome: 💙

↳ user17: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?

catpawsupdates

liked by user, user, user, and 3,126,918 others

catpawsupdates: we’ve had a couple of requests lately asking about catpawsgaming and her cats! These are the first and last photo we’ve gotten — she’s incredibly secretive about them so we don’t know if this is the same cat in both photos or if she has 2 bengals (peep also handsome in the first photo. Catpaws was laughing when she posted that photo cause she’s usually the passenger princess)

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user20: I LOVE THEM

↳ user21: same! Insert that meme. “I’ve only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I kill everyone else then myself”

↳ user22: extreme but agreeable.

user23: that’s sassy - I’d bet money on it

↳ user24: sassy? What? Who?

�� user23: sassy verstappen! F1 world champion max verstappen’s cat

↳ user24: ummm? This is a page for a small time gamer catpawsgaming

↳ user23: listen. Torture couldn’t get me to admit how long I’ve spent staring at pictures and videos of jimmy and sassy. But that is absolutely sassy!

↳ user17: I’m connecting the dots as I type

↳ user18: you’re not connecting shit

↳ user17: CONNECTING THE DOTS AS I TYPE

Private Messages

Bluesky

Private Messages

catpawsgaming

liked by user, user, user, and 3,712,222 others

catpawsgaming: tonight’s stream is gonna be a little late — I’m currently being held hostage by the cutest kidnapper ever

view all comments

user24: awwww

user25: your right. You simply can’t move!

↳ catpawsgaming: completely pinned down!

↳ user25: I don’t think anyone is gonna have a problem with your steam being late tonight

↳ user26: I’ve spoken to the council and we don’t! In fact we all vote for a stream of literally just the cat

↳ catpawsgaming:…you know that is an idea

↳ user26: omg. OMG. OH MY GOD!!

user23: THATS JIMMY!! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE

↳ user27: ok grandma. Let’s get you back to bed

handsome: so that’s where the little troublemaker is

↳ user28: omg hi handsome! Where’ve you been?

↳ catpawsgaming: ok I love all my fans but plz stop flirting with my man

↳ user28: can I flirt with you instead?

↳ catpawsgaming: 😳

↳ handsome: no

Private Messages

Bluesky

user29: ITS MAX VERSTAPPEN AND CATPAWSGAMING!!!! I TOLD YOU ALL

↳ user30: ok but are we really gonna take a gossip page as the truth?

user31: OH MY GOD THAT CRAZY FAN WAS RIGHT?!?

↳ catpawsgamingfan: I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOOOOUUUUU

view all comments

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 8,345,765 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: liefje I know this is not how we wanted to share our love with the world but a light in the darkness is now I get to talk about how much I love you and how you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. These past 5 years have been a dream come true — and it’s been a dream I never knew I had. Seeing you that first time, you took my breath away. Forget the trophies and the victories, the world championships and titles I’ve won — becoming your husband has topped every single one of them. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore and I wouldn’t ever want to

comments have been restricted on this post

yourusername: oh my handsome man…you are the light of my life, the moon in my night, the stars in the sky, the best husband ever and the most loving cat dad I could have ever wanted to spend my life with. Thank you thank you thank you for picking me and staying with me and fighting for me and with me 💋💋

[randomfanner]

Wyll + the Bitchest Bitch to ever Bitch out of the Bitch Plane of Existence SFW Headcanons

So I kept thinking Wyll was crashing my game whenever I talked to him after I rejected him at his dance cutscene. Turns out I just needed to power click x until whatever cutscene was supposed to play was skipped. Now I have Wyll back!

I probably would have done this sooner had it not been for that. He is the Sweetest Prince Charming

Also fuck Mizora. I hate Mizora. I really wish she would get the fuck out of my camp.

Wyll really likes to spar and just practice with wooden rapiers. No stakes, no life or death, just dueling with someone who he is closed to. He loves to teach the kids because it reminds him of that and when they are a bit older then the tiefling children were, he does like to duel the same way.

When he does spar with kids under less horrible circumstances he will play the roll of a big bad villain rather then the Mighty Blade of Frontiers. Of course let them skewer him in the end. Letting them learn and get the feeling of victory.

It feels like passing down lessons the way his father did to him. Wyll truly misses his father and spending time with him more than anything in the world.

If you offered to spar with him he would jump to his feet and he is so excited. He has an extra bit of showmanship, playing the role of a villain who wishes to steal a kiss. He may beat you, just so he may plunder his nefarious rewards.... if he may.

He likes to buy things for the party. His love language is gift and he gifts a lot when you all get back to Baldur's Gate. The shopping trip with Karlach and Astarion happens with Wyll and you if it happens because Wyll wants to buy everyone stuff.

It's a shame the money is pooled/managed by you but please let him take the lead it will make him so happy for this. When he does get money that is solely his he does spend it on everyone else(and fancy wines for himself but shush)

When things have fully calmed down, things have started to be rebuilt and Wyll is allowed to ask for a favor from his father. That favor being gold so he can treat you like the prince(ss) you are.

He will buy you anything you ask. Literally anything. He may also buy something nice for himself.

Before he could buy you things, he liked to bring you small trinkets and flowers he found. He would also buy some of the wines from the kids at Last Light to both encourage their business skills(especially with Rolan being an asshole) and to share with you for later.

He really likes to share his wine with you. It is one of his favorite things to bond with you once you get closer.

Wyll would love to carry you bridal style but unfortunately for our 8 strength friend that is not a realistic possibility on it's own. However Wyll is no strange to using extra forces to cover blind spots, and so he will drink a potion of giant strength to be able to whisk you away.

Now well Wyll is the sweetest man in the world he sometimes does have to deal with the fact he is a devil now. Well he himself has not changes, he may have some new habits he isn't expecting.

it is never anything bad of course. He gets things like wanting to rub his scent on you much like a cat, brushing his nose into your shoulder and giving you a small kiss. Bringing you a fresh blood, cute things he wouldn't have done before.

Also some slightly more territorial things than he would ever do normally... such as pulling you just a tiny bit closer to him. He doesn't even realize he doing it because he isn't a super jealous guy.

Oh he may also have other side effects of being a devil but that is for the NSFW headcanons.

Mizora constantly loves to try and give Wyll horrible, horrible relationship advice. When she is bothering you at camp she will just go to Wyll and tell him he should do things that count as devil courting rituals but to most humans are just attempts at murder.

Wyll of course ignores her and tries to get her to leave him alone, doesn't happen of course it is fucking Mizora. Out of spite he starts going over to court you in the most gentlemanly way possible, not listening to her advice at all.

Mizora also tries to give you unsolicited on what Wyll likes... and of course tries to sew any doubts she can about your relationship. Of course it is best to ignore her and if you can, give Wyll all the positive attention you can.

Mizora will also pop in or have some fiendish force pop up just fuck with any date Wyll may take you on. Perhaps a waiter spills soup in your lap because something tripped him, or maybe the waitress gets a bit bold and flirts with Wyll.

Mizora makes herself such a nuisance at every chance she gets.

[unluckiestmember]

Baldur's Gate 3 X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Astarion Ancunin, Shadowheart, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, Lae'zel, Wyll Ravengard, Karlach and Halsin

Tags: friends to lovers, acquittances to lovers, in denial, overprotective, fluff, indirect kisses, Gale being Gale, fake love (until it's not), established relationship and innocence.

Warning: SFW. Light suggestive themes.

A/N: Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. No, I'm still in a chokehold-

Astarion Ancunin

“Well aren’t you just the cutest thing ever? I could just eat you right up, darling~.”

When he first met you, Astarion knew you were an easy target. A nice meal he could exploit, especially if you’re a virgin, and a great pawn for the road ahead. He would deliver sweet nothings to you in hopes of sleeping in your bed and drinking from the pure blood that coursed through your veins. But as time continued, as you showed how sweet you were, the pale elf found himself genuinely falling for you.

He wanted to protect you from the world around both of you and bite anyone who tried to hurt you. He’d even hesitate on feeding from you out of fear he’d hurt you or expose himself to your pained gasps. You were his precious jewel he couldn’t afford to be taken from him or tainted in any way. With everyone else, he’s still a flirtatious and snarky vampire spawn. But around you, he will always be a sweet man who wants to make sure you’re okay. His princess/prince… That being said, don’t expect him to stop flirting with you. He adores when you get flustered.

Shadowheart

“Stand behind me! I don’t want you to get hurt! Just do as I say, okay?!”

At first Shadowheart thought you weren’t real. That there was no way in the nine hells that there was someone as pure as you. She genuinely thought your personality was a charade. So she watched you carefully, waiting for you to show your true colors in the form of berating someone or betraying one of the campers. But you never did. You always stayed true to yourself.

When she realized that you were probably the most modest person in your motley crew, the Shar Worshipper became attracted to you. She spent more time with you and suddenly felt like she needed to take care of you along your adventure together. Similar to Astarion, Shadowheart tries to be ever so gentle with you, never using pain in bed and out of bed unless you approve of her actions when she asks for permission. It’s evident to everyone she cares deeply for you and wouldn’t mind spending her life with you.

Gale Dekarios

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen the embodiment of happiness. Who knew I would find that in you?”

You had Gale’s heart as soon as you said hi to him. It didn’t take long for this man to turn into putty around you nor to become friends with you. And he fell in love when you always gave him magical objects without hesitation. Asking him if he’s alright and stroking his head after he eats his weave? He was swooned. The closer you two became, the more the wizard would share his life with you like an open book and offer any kind of lesson in magic to you.

It didn’t take long for him to admit he had romantic feelings for you, leading to you to become a couple. At camp, he is a gentleman, always asking if you need anything in between kisses to your cheek and becoming bashful with you when you bless his ears with your giggles. Outside of camp, he’s focused on you, making sure no one lays a finger or spell on that cute head of yours. You bring the best out of Gale and make him the happiest man in all of the realms.

Lae’zel

“G’lyck. If you’re hurt, then go to the ghustil… Hurry up or I’ll drag you to her myself.”

You were a liability to Lae’zel. Always getting hurt? Never killing your enemies? Checking up on everyone over yourself? She wanted nothing more than to throw you to the wolves so you wouldn’t ruin the group’s odds of survival. She hated you with a flaming passion. She hated how you always asked if she was okay. How you always treated her wounds after a battle and dare to kiss her injuries better. How you cowered behind her during combat.. And especially how you made her heart flutter when you slept across from her by the campfire, watching your cute face in a state of peace…

If it was up to her, she’d kick you out of the camp for what you’ve done to her. She swears it. But for now? She guesses she’ll keep you around for a little longer. Besides, she knows without her you’d die out there. You need her and she needs you.

Wyll Ravengard

“Don’t fret now, I won’t let them lay a finger on you, not when the Blade of Frontiers is right by your side.”

Wyll always wanted to have a romance like fairy tales. Save a fair princess or prince from their troubles like a knight in shining armor while slaying dragons. To meet someone who was the sweetest thing alive and experience real happiness with them by his side. So when he met you, you can bet he felt like he won the jackpot! He found your bashful nature and careless personality to be a breath of fresh air, especially when he was punished by Mizora.

At first you were a great friend, but when you took care of him, polished his horns and always checked if he was alright after fights, true love sprung between you two. It didn’t take long for him to confess his feelings to you and take your hand as your boyfriend. From that day forward, he’s been your savior on and off the battlefield when he wasn’t your sweet lover that showered you in compliments and kisses. You are positive that with Wyll you are bound to have a happily ever after.

Karlach

“Aww, you’re so adorable I just wanna squish your cheeks and hug you forever!... I can?! Well, come here, you!”

It was love at first sight between you and Karlach. After you splashed her with water and made sure she was okay, the barbarian’s heart was in your hands. She was so used to meeting backstabbers, manipulators and liars that she wasn’t sure there were any good people left. But you proved her wrong and she was so happy you did. Because of you, she made it her sole mission to get infernal iron so she could touch you.

When she couldn’t, she would share indirect kisses with you using rocks and even gift you her teddy bear Clive when you couldn’t hold her. And when she finally was able to touch you, she held you as if her life depended on it. There isn’t a moment where you two are not touching in and out of camp. You make her feel alive again in more ways than one and to her you are her soulmate. She loves you so much and will do anything to make sure you know that.

Halsin

“If you were a part of nature’s divine design, then you are a pure ray of sunshine given by the Oak Father.”

Halsin immediately gave you his trust and respect when you saved him without a reason to. It didn’t help that he also found you to be adorable with how nervous you got around him and how you stuttered a bit. With how you were, the druid quickly grew an interest in you, wanting to be beside you and feel your skin against his. He loved how you were so considerate when he wild shaped, petting his head and playing with him effortlessly.

In the wilderness, you were something like his mate, always protected by foes and checked for injuries. If there were any, he would bandage them as quickly as he could and carry you the rest of the way back to camp. When everything was settled, he’d immediately cuddle you as himself or as a bear. You were perfect in every way to him and for that, he would be your sole protector no matter what.

If you got any requests for Baldur's Gate 3, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[thoughts-of-bear]

The birthday gift

A Halsin x reader fanfiction | Explicit, 18+ | 7k words A/N: Okay since the Halsin brainrot has had its hold on me for ages, I started this fic on my birthday in december, not expecting to ever finish it because I have literally never finished anything I've started writing before- until now. I got inspired to write this by this post (for the birthday part, the smut part is my own horny imagination) and well, this is the final product. Since it's my first time publishing any of my writing and writing smut at all, please be kind with me XD Summary: Your companions prepare a surprise birthday party for you, Halsin sees you in your new dress, you two dancing leads to him confessing his feelings for you and a very happy ending... CW: halsin x f!reader, virgin reader, halsin eating pussy, fingering, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex i guess, halsin being the man he is, all that stuff idk what to write here really

I hope you enjoy it, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

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You and your companions had finally reached Baldur’s Gate. It’s still morning when you enter Rivington that day and the streets are busy with all kinds of people, many seemingly refugees from Elturel and farther away, here to find shelter in the city. As you continue down the road to the village in front of the city gates, you are stopped by a little red-headed girl.

“Erm. ‘Scuse me, I can’t find my mum.” She looks worn out and as if she has recently been crying.

“Where did you last see her?” you ask as you bend down to her, smiling to show you want to help.

“She went to go get some herbs - for her spots” she gestures towards her face. “She was sick. And she was supposed to come back the same day.” She pauses before adding, “That was last tenday though.”

“Let’s go find a guard. They’ll be able to help you”, you propose.

The girl shakes her head. “Guards blow like petards. They don’t help us.”

Your heart sinks at these words. It seems all these people were here because the city wouldn’t take them in. And the guards are no help either, apparently. You wonder what happened to your city, where once everyone was welcome.

Halsin sighs and shakes his head in disapproval. “This city is a poor place to be in need of help. Even the guards can’t be trusted to protect the most vulnerable.”

You silently agree and think of how you could help that girl. You decide to spare a few coins, so she can buy herself some food.

“I don’t know where your mum is, but here - take a few coins”, you offer her, not able to tell her that her mother is most likely dead. Halsin smiles at you warmly as you shoot him a quick glance, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh - erm. Thank you so much! I don’t have anything and you can’t do anything without any coin”, the little girl exclaims, bobbing on her toes and suddenly looking a little less tired. “I’ll pay you back. When I find my mum.” She turns around and bolts. “No need, it’s a gift!” you call after her but she has already vanished in the crowd.

You finally arrive at Wyrm’s Rock Crossing in the evening, after you had snuck past one of the new city guards - the so-called Steel Watch - and promised to investigate the murder of the local Ilmater priest. Another incident that seems to fuel the hate towards the refugees.

And that isn’t even all. The city is closed, even for you as a Baldurian, and to get in you’d need an Admission Pass - or wings. You sigh. You just want to get into the city, rent a room in the Elfsong and think about what to do next, now that the Absolute’s army must soon be upon the city.

It’s all too much and too little time. And you can’t just turn away from the people you met in Rivington either, they need help just as much as you need to find out how to beat the Absolute’s Chosen and get rid of the tadpoles.

When you make your way around camp that evening, checking up on your companions, Halsin notices your exhaustion, the way you slump your shoulders and how your usually impeccable stance falters. He wants to relieve you of at least a bit of the tension, so when you walk over to him, he offers you a massage. The things he wants to say to you can wait until tomorrow.

“Thank you, Halsin”, you accept, his hands turning you around and gently pushing you down to sit on your knees before him. You sigh as his broad hands knead the tension from your back and by the time he is finished, you feel like a sleepy, boneless lump of flesh, muscles completely relaxed. You thank Halsin again before you retire to your bedroll, the hopeful thought that the offer might’ve been more than Halsin’s usual kindness crossing your mind before you drift off to sleep.

The next evening, you were finally inside the city walls. You consider the new information of the day. How you got your hands on an invitation to the celebration at Wyrm’s rock fortress, your disbelief to see that it was Lord Gortash’s coronation as Arch Duke, how he made the tadpoled Duke Ravengard give up his power and how Bane’s Chosen then proposed an alliance against Orin, the shapeshifter that had already approached you in Rivington. You had agreed to kill her, but you definitely wouldn’t leave Gortash his Netherstone. But that is a problem for another day. You had managed to get a room in the Elfsong Tavern and as usual you make your way through it to hear what your companions think of all that had happened today. Most approve of your decision. Halsin is the last person you speak to and as always, he has just the right words to ease your worries. For now, at least.

“Wait-”, he grabs your arm before you can leave. “I didn’t thank you yet.” His large hand is warm and makes your skin tingle where it touches you.

“Thank me? For what?” He chuckles at your puzzled look. “For all that you did in Rivington yesterday. You have so many worries and yet you still go out of your way to help those in need. The way you made that little girl smile, or how you didn’t hesitate to investigate what happened to that Ilmater priest.” A blush creeps up your cheeks as he continues. “I’m afraid Nature’s balance can never be restored in a city like this, but seeing what you do every day without expecting anything in return gives me hope. And for that I thank you.” You smile up at him, lost for words with your heart beating fast.

“I appreciate you saying this. I wish I could to more, to help everyone, but if I can at least do a little good, it’s worth the exhaustion at the end of the day”, you eventually admit with a smile. Halsin grins. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are.” Your cheeks blush an even deeper red at those words and only when you retire to bed for the evening does your heart resume its normal pace again. But the warm feeling Halsin’s presence gave you remained for the night.

After you had the first proper breakfast since your crash with the Nautiloid, you feel ready to explore the city and find out how to best deal with all your problems. You hadn’t particularly missed the bustle and noise of your old home, but you can’t help feeling safer now that you were in familiar surroundings again.

Gale proposed to go to Sorcerous Sundries, both to find out more about the Elderbrain’s crown and to see what the wizard there wants with your companion Nightsong. Since you don’t have an idea where to find Orin yet, you figure that this is as good as any other thing you could be doing. 

The way from Elfsong to the magic shop isn’t far and you still have some time before it opens, so you decide to stop by the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette to update yourself on any news you had missed in your absence and struggle with the Absolute.

Scanning the title page, you notice the date in the corner and your brows shoot up in surprise. Noticing this, Gale asks if you found anything important in the newspaper.

“No, it’s just that I realised today is my birthday and I've completely forgotten about it. That means we have been on the road for more than two months already”, you wonder aloud before you add, “It doesn’t feel that long.”

“Well, then we have to celebrate of course!” Gale exclaims happily. You smile at his enthusiasm but shake your head. “We have bigger problems for now. Let’s see what this Lorroakan wants with Dame Aylin and then get on with our business. Besides,” you shrug, “we didn’t celebrate birthdays in my monastery anyways so I won’t miss anything.”

“If you say so,” Gale replies and you turn your attention back towards the page you were studying before.

You had already forgotten about the conversation as you come into your chamber in the Elfsong, grateful for the few minutes alone during the bath you had taken and the respite for your tired body.

But the moment you enter the room, Karlach and Shadowheart drag you to a set dinner table, laden with the most delicious food you could imagine. There aren’t your ordinary fish heads and the mouldy bread you usually have to call supper, instead delicious smelling pork roasts, pies, glazed carrots and potatoes, deep red apples and more pile atop the table, all lovingly placed around a huge flower bouquet in the middle of it.

You are so overwhelmed by the amount of work your friends must’ve put into this, that you can only stutter a ‘thank you’ before Karlach announces, “Happy birthday soldier! Halsin, Gale and Shadowheart here told us that today is your birthday and you never had a proper party before, so we decided to prepare you a little something!” With a grin she gestures from the table to one of the unoccupied beds, where a few packages are placed.

“You brought me presents too? You really didn’t have to!” you exclaim in surprise. You are so touched that your friends -among all the trouble- still found time to prepare the presents and this party for you that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

“Darling, no need to cry,” Astarion laughs as he pushes you onto your designated chair. “This is a party and not a funeral! Go ahead and enjoy yourself, it’s your special day after all!”

With a sniff and a small chuckle at Astarion’s words you sit down properly. He is right, of course, and you all clearly enjoy having a small break from the worries you faced at the moment.

Smiling hesitantly, you grab some meat and vegetables and start to eat - it really is delicious. You revel in the laughter and conversations with your friends, your weariness from todays fight forgotten for the moment.

When all of you can’t possibly eat any more, Karlach drags you over to the bed with the presents. You can tell she is excited to see if you like the few things your companions managed to get you in the time they had for preparing, so you start unpacking.

The first present contains a book on the monastery you were raised in, with a handwritten note from Gale:

“I’m sure you already know most information this book has to offer, but I thought it might still bring you comfort and remind you of home.” You thank him with a tight hug and carefully place the book into your bag.

The next package is a bottle of the finest liquor of the Elfsong Tavern, plus a sparkler for every one of your companions which Karlach sets of immediately.

Laughing at her shenanigans, you reach for the last and biggest present. It is wrapped in red paper and decorated with a little white bow. You wonder where your companions had managed to find all those things while you carefully pull the paper open. Soon a dress falls out of the packaging and you gaze at it in awe. Your fingers trace the deep forest green fabric, intricate silver and gold patterns weaved into it.

“This is beautiful, thank you, truly!” you say earnestly. You still can’t quite believe that all this should be for you. “I thought you would like it”, smiles Shadowheart. “And I’m certain it will suit you beautifully. Go now - try it on!” she urges you.

You walk to the bathroom which still smells of the quince-scented soap you had used for your bath a few hours before. While changing, you bask in that warm feeling in your chest these moments among your friends always grant you. Whatever problems you had encountered, in your opinion they have all been worth it just for the people you found and let into your heart along the way. As cheesy as that sounds.

You regard yourself in the mirror. The dress is cut low and close-fitting, capturing your cleavage in a very flattering way. Maybe too flattering, if you think about it too much. This isn’t something you’d usually wear, but you have to admit that you like the way the dress looks on you. A bit insecure you go back into your room, where you are greeted with approving cheers and whistles from your friends.

“You look absolutely stunning”, Shadowheart admires. “I knew it would look good on you! Turn around please”, she commands. You do what you are told, with red cheeks at the compliment.

When you face Shadowheart again, you notice Halsin gazing at you with pure admiration - and something else you can’t quite place. You think you notice a golden shimmer in his eyes, but that could be a trick of the light considering all the candles in the room.

“I must admit, your neck looks very tempting in that dress but I know someone who is a lot hungrier for you than me right now”, Astarion remarks with a wicked grin and a sideward glance. You frown at him, though you can’t help your heart skipping a beat at these words. Could he possibly mean Halsin?

“Now, what would a party be without some music and dance?” Wyll interrupts your thoughts and as if these words have summoned her, the bard the party had met in the druid grove appears in the doorway.

“Alfira!” you exclaim happily and immediately rush over to hug her. “I’m so glad you got to Baldur’s Gate alright!”

Alfira grins at you. “Yes, thanks to you and your friends here. When they reached out to me today and told me it was your birthday, I just had to come! Wyll organised everything.” You nod to him in thanks. “Now, I don’t have anything to give you but just tell me what you want to hear and I will play it for you!”

“Thanks, Alfira, that’s more than enough for me”, you beam and lead her into the room towards your group. “Wyll, now is your chance to show me your dancing!” You say as you take his hand and pull him into the middle of the room, then you grab Karlach and Gale and start to move to the tune Alfira started to play. Karlach swirls you around and Wyll shows you the dance moves from court, which -to be honest- remind you a bit of the mating dances you had seen with a few bird species.

Out of breath from all the dancing and laughing, you request a slower tune from the tiefling bard. You manage to persuade Shadowheart to put away her wine for a moment and start to waltz around the room with her. She is quite the good dancer and you wonder where she had learned it, with her being raised in a Sharran temple and everything.

At the next tune, you approach Halsin. With your head light from the wine, you have finally gathered the courage to ask him for what you have secretly thought about the whole time.

Still, you can feel your heart beating in your throat. “Erm…Halsin, w-would you honour me with a dance?” you eventually manage to mumble out shyly.

“Of course, little flower. Whatever your heart desires.” That particular heart skips a beat at his intimate tone. “Although you might wish you hadn’t asked me that once you’ve seen my dancing”, he adds with a chuckle as he takes your hand.

He leads you into the room and starts to swirl you around to the melody of Alfira’s lute. He definitely isn’t as graceful as Shadowheart but certainly not as bad as he has made it sound. But even if he’d had the dancing skills of a bugbear, you wouldn’t have noticed. His large and warm hand around your waist and the smile with which he regards you sends your pulse through the ceiling. His smell of pine and honey and fresh air intoxicates you and it is hard to keep your feet from getting tangled in your dress.

When he leans down to you, you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. “Before you go and mingle again, I still have a present for you. I wasn’t sure if you would even like it”, he admits, “but I have decided to give it to you anyways.” When the tune ends, he leads you to the space in your room where his bed stands and bends down to search his pack.

You think about how long it took you to realise how attracted you are to the druid as you admire his strong back before you. Of course, you have noticed his kindness and compassion and you have always marvelled at the way he drew strength from nature. But only since you had some kind of break these last days have you begun to understand the depth of your affection for the man before you. It runs deeper than mere friendship and the echo of his hands on your back have awoken a hunger inside you that only grows stronger the more you look at Halsin. How desperately you hope that he feels the same way about you…

When he stands up to turn around, you quickly brush away the thought that has sent the heat into your cheeks again.

“You’re the only one who knows of my secret passion”, he begins jokingly, “so I thought you might accept this as my present for your special day.” He hands you a small whittled duck he has apparently made in the hours you were away from camp. You can’t help but tear up at the thought of how much effort he has put into all the details he has carved. There are even small webbed feet on the underside of the little duck.

“Thank you Halsin, this is an amazing gift!” You smile down at the little duck. “You are amazing”, you add quietly.

“With all that you have done for me, I should be the one thanking you night and day.” As you look into his eyes again you see that his gaze is now very solemn. “There was another reason for wanting to speak to you privately. I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now.” Your heart flutters in recognition of his words, the confession sending sparks across your skin.

“I want more than to fight at your side, or to sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine.” Halsin’s gaze on you is intense, filling your chest with a burning heat that slowly spreads lower into your belly, as if the wine you have been drinking suddenly caught on fire inside of you.

Halsin continues, “I think you feel the same way - but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

You stare at him for a moment before you realise that he waits for your answer.

“Y-you’re not wrong, far from it”, you whisper. “I would like that very much.” You smile up at him and he takes your hand in his.

“May I kiss you?” he breathes out, relieved. You nod and he bends down to gently press his lips on yours.

His hand slides up your arm and to your back while he places his other behind your head, gently pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

You feel his tongue prodding at your lips, demanding entrance and you happily oblige. The feeling of his soft lips on yours sends you spiralling and you can’t stifle the small moan that escapes you. Halsin sends out a silent prayer to Silvanus - if that is all it takes to make you moan, what sounds do you make when he finally gets to taste you? Groaning, his hand on your back slowly wanders lower, a silent question of permission in his eyes. You press your body against his as an answer, feeling the heat radiating off his chest … and lower.

Halsins hand grips your ass firmly, making you gasp, the other joining in and hoisting you up on his hips, turning you both around and pressing your back to the wall. You cannot stop the surprised squeak that escapes your lips at the sudden movement and Halsin presses his mouth on yours to stifle it.

The feeling of the growing bulge in his pants between your legs and the low moan Halsin utters before kissing you even more vigorously sends a shiver down your spine, pressure starting to build between your thighs.

In a desperate attempt to pull him closer, your hands grip Halsin’s hair, arms, everything you can reach. But before you can lose yourself in him, Halsin releases your lips, panting, and rests his forehead against yours.

“I would very much like to continue”, he whispers, his breathing ragged and voice hoarse with desire, “but the others will expect us back and I think you would probably like a bit more privacy.” He sighs and softly kisses your hair. “I will come to your bed when the party has ended, little flower. But don’t expect much sleep”, he adds with a wicked grin. You can only nod as he gently props you back on your feet.

With your head spinning, you get back to the others, averting your eyes from the knowing smirks of Astarion and Shadowheart noticing your ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. You ignore them, trying to engage in some more conversation and one or two dances while the thought of what awaits you won’t leave your head.

When the last of the party finally bids you goodnight, you hurry to bed, awaiting Halsin. You can’t get away from the echoes of his hands on your body, heart already racing again and warmth blooming in your belly. Even if he hadn’t promised you he’d come tonight, you would’ve been unable to sleep.

A soft rustle next to your ear startles you from your thoughts and as you turn your head, you could make out Halsin’s large figure in the dark, crouching beside your bed.

He cuts you off from what you wanted to say by placing a finger on your mouth, his other hand sliding under your back and pulling you into an upright position. With your heart beating into your throat, you take the hand Halsin offers as he gently beckons you to follow him into the corridor outside of the room the party shares, then further into a small but cosy bedroom on the next floor.

The door closes with a click and before you can say anything, Halsin sweeps you up into his arms, pressing you flat against the door and capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like it burns you from the inside.

Halsin’s fresh, earthy scent floods your senses as your tongues intertwine and your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at his braids. You whine when Halsin lets go of your lips, only to gasp as he starts nibbling and placing searing kisses on your jaw while his hands squeeze your ass firmly, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You moan at the growing ache between your thighs but plant your small fists against his shoulders anyway, gently pushing him away a bit. Halsin’s eyes, pupils wide and dark with desire, find yours.

“What is it my heart?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Do you want me to stop?” You see no disappointment in his gaze, only worry and your heart swells at how selfless your lover is. You avert your eyes, suddenly embarrassed to tell what troubles you.

“I- I j-just wanted t-to say that … um … well, I- I have never been with someone before”, you mumble eventually, averting your gaze as you blush furiously.

“Silvanus, preserve me”, Halsin groans out before almost dropping you and stumbling backwards, trying to steady himself on the small desk opposite the bed. With wide eyes you regard what is happening before you. Halsin drops to his knees, a deep animalistic growl coming from his lips as his eyes fill with golden light and he transforms into his huge bear form.

You gasp and nearly trip over your feet in an attempt to make room for the bear before you, but the animal fills almost the entire chamber. After finally regaining his composure, Halsin manages to change back into his elf form, with a snarl and a ragged breath coming from his lips.

“Forgive me. I- lost the run of myself.” He shakes his head in disgust at his outbreak, terrified that he has ruined this precious moment with you before it could properly begin, and slowly gets back to his feet. “Sometimes, when blood runs hot enough, it’s difficult to tame the beast. And the thought of you trusting me enough to share your first time with me … well, you saw what happened”, he smiles tentatively, slowly approaching you again with hesitation in his eyes.

“Don’t apologise”, you assure him with a shy smile. “I like it.” If possible, you blush even harder now. “Maybe for another time…?” you add, fidgeting nervously with the front of your dress.

A relieved grin spreads over Halsin’s face. “You like it..?”, he chuckles. “You are full of surprises, little flower.” As he steps forward, he bends down to gently plant a kiss on your cheek, only to proceed to bite at your earlobe which elicits a delicious moan from you.

“I’m glad you think so, but now you’ve made it even harder for me not to outright devour you”, his low voice whispers in your ear. “Nevertheless, I will be gentle. Or at least I’ll try to be.” You swallow hard, arousal sending shivers down your spine.

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist again as he kisses your jaw, your forehead and nose, until eventually his lips find yours again, his tongue ravaging you like a man starving. His hands, this time directly shoving under your dress, firmly grip your thighs. He ruts against you, growling, his now rock-hard cock pressing against the confinements of his clothing.

His fingers trail higher up, kneading your ass, then stroking the soft skin of your back before slowly wandering even higher. His touch sends jolts through your body and you can feel the heat between your legs, already nearly too much to bear.

His eyes hold an unspoken question and when you nod, Halsin lifts your dress off and brings his mouth down on one of your breasts, the hand that’s not on your back now gently kneading the other, massaging the hardened nipple between his fingers. You mewl at the sensation, impossibly more pressure building between your thighs. Halsin gently bites down at your breast, only to run his tongue over it afterwards to soothe the mark he made. You moan and arch your back, desperately trying to press closer against Halsin’s still overly clothed erection, wanting to feel everything of him.

He growls and his mouth begins to place kisses down your front, between your breasts, on the soft flesh of your belly until he is on his knees before you, his warm breath fanning over you and flooding you with heat.

“More?” he asks, his pupils blown wide with lust, as his thumbs brush the soft skin between your legs. “Please”, you whine, knees almost too weak to stand and your underwear already embarrassingly soaked.

Halsin wastes no time, pressing kisses on the insides of your thighs, his one hand holding you in place and his other slowly -too slowly- sliding your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare and dripping with need before him almost makes him lose control again, makes him want to take you, devour you, fuck you, mark you and then fill you to the brim with his cum but with a groan he wills himself to calm down and be gentle with you. He won’t hurt you. He won’t.

He exhales deeply, lifting one of your legs up and slowly swiping his tongue through your wet folds, which earns him a choked gasp. His nose nudges your clit as his tongue starts stroking, slowly at first, then faster and with more pressure. You can’t help the way each expert swipe of his tongue makes your hips buck into his mouth as countless moans and sighs fall out of your mouth. Halsin growls in response, the vibrations around your sensitive bud making your legs shake. You can barely keep up and the coil in your belly is tightening ever faster with Halsin’s mouth sucking your clit and his tongue inside you.

“You are sweeter than honey, my heart”, he groans as his tongue presses flat against you. “Let me taste you as you come undone on my tongue.” With your mind clouded with lust, all you can do is moan out Halsin’s name and press yourself further against your lover’s mouth.

He understands anyway, now slowly dragging a thick finger through your dripping folds until he stops, teasingly pressing against your entrance. You whine, begging him to fill you, to do anything to release the overwhelming pressure between your thighs. When he finally thrusts into you, you can’t stifle the cry of pleasure that escapes your mouth. With Halsin’s finger now working your cunt open, his mouth continues its ministrations, licking and sucking your clit, soaking your legs with your slick.

With a wicked grin, Halsin inserts a second finger into your quivering hole, pushing inside over and over again, holding you firmly in place as you try to writhe away from the intense pleasure. His fingers coil upwards in response, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Please Halsin…”, you beg, toes curling and legs shaking, “I’m close- I- Oh!“

Moaning into your cunt, Halsin picks up his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue swipes over your clit again and again, bringing you closer to your end.

One more thrust with his fingers and a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive bud between your legs is all it needs to send you spiralling over the edge. “Ha- Halsin!” you cry out, hips jerking violently and fingers digging into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you with the force of a lightning bolt. He moans at the sensations of your walls contracting around his fingers, the urge to take you and feel you squeeze his cock with your needy cunt almost overwhelming him.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out and stands up, bringing you in for a passionate kiss as you still struggle to regain your breath. Tasting yourself on Halsin’s tongue pulls a small moan from you and an embarrassed heat creeps up your back at the thought of how aroused you already are again.

With a smile, Halsin pulls away. “You are amazing, little flower”, he whispers breathlessly as he picks you up and gently places you on the bed, admiring your flushed body.

If Halsin’s tongue hadn’t just turned your mind to goo, you might have been able to return that compliment, but alas-

“May I go further?” Halsin asks and when you nod he swiftly discards of his clothes, you licking your lips at the sight of the elf naked before you. Your eyes take in his form, from his muscled arms down to the soft curve of his belly and- oh gods. Your eyes widen. You didn’t think he would be that big and the thought of him filling you makes you gulp down a mixture of fear and arousal.

Attentive as always, Halsin notices your insecurity and bends down to press gentle kisses against your ear. “We don’t have to do this, my heart…”, he whispers while he rubs soothing circles into your hips. He looks at you, his expression earnest. You bite your lip, thinking for a moment before answering. “N-no, I want this”, you assure him, your voice still weak but pleading now. The way you look so sweet with your little fangs on your lips makes Halsin feral and he kisses you again, desperate and more passionate this time. He groans into the kiss as he gently spreads your legs for him, lining up his tip with your dripping slit and sliding through your soft folds before stopping just at your entrance. The sensation of his hard length so close to entering you is enough to make your head fall back, eyes squeezed shut. “If it’s getting too much, tell me and I will stop immediately”, he whispers soothingly. “Now relax for me, little flower.”

All thoughts leave your head as Halsin slides in, agonizingly slow. The stretch would be painful if your lover hadn’t prepared you so thoroughly beforehand, but now you only feel pure bliss. Raising your head, you can see that he isn’t even halfway in but gods, you feel so full already that you can’t stifle the choked gasp that escapes your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my heart. Just a little bit more- mngh-!“ Halsin’s growl sends jolts through your spine as he finally bottoms out. You can see just how much effort it takes him to hold back by the way his jaw tenses and his chest is heaving.

“By Silvanus, you’re so tight-!“ A shiver crawls down his back, carrying a wave of soft golden light with it, as Halsin’s eyes light up with his magic for a moment. The thought of how you are able to bring your lover to the precipice of losing control is extremely flattering and you feel yourself clenching around Halsin’s cock, making him grunt in response. Finally somewhat accustoming to his size, you arch your back into the mattress below you. The new angle makes you moan in pleasure as you grip the sheets for support.

“Are you still feeling good, little flower?”, Halsin asks as he slides a hand from your hip under your back to support you. You can only form one thought. “More- please Halsin!” you whine desperately. You don’t have to ask twice, with a low growl he slides out - just to knock the breath out of you with his first, hard thrust. He sets a steady pace, one that leaves you moaning and gasping out his name. Halsin takes your small hands into his, pressing them into the bed beside you to pin you down, pushing into you deep and slow while he places bites and kisses on your throat and chest that will surely leave marks come morning.

Gods, Halsin thought. The sight of your small body sprawled beneath him, split apart by his thick cock while he fucks into you relentlessly is driving him insane. He is growling with every thrust now and each one of them makes you cry out in pleasure. It doesn’t take long until he has you on the precipice of release again, your cunt fluttering around Halsin’s length.

“H- halsin- please! I’m so close!” you can only beg, not sure if you can take much more, your body feeling like it might explode. “Come for me, my heart”, Halsin demands in a gravelly voice before pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing and massaging until his name leaves your lips in a hoarse cry as your orgasm hits you with full force. Your hips jerk upwards, walls clenching around Halsin as you notice the tears from the overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. He continues to pound into you, prolonging your release and muttering praises for you under his breath.

Through the fog in your mind you wonder how Halsin still has the energy to keep going, his pace unwavering while you are completely spent, gladly accepting whatever your lover has to give you as long as you’re not required to move.

So, you do not see it coming when Halsin suddenly pulls out of you, the unexpected emptiness making you whine in displeasure, only for him to flip you over and press your chest into the soft bedding while he gently raises your hips.

“I know it’s a lot right now but I need you to cum for me one more time, my heart”, Halsin huffs with a strained voice, pushing inside you once more and grabbing a fistful of your hair to keep you in place. The new position lets him slide even deeper than before and you can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you when Halsin starts pounding into you again, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back with blinding pleasure.

“’s too much- please-!” you sob, your poor overstimulated clit still trying to recover from the last orgasm. But Halsin doesn’t relent and you can feel sharp pricks on your hips where his hand grips you, fingers partially wild-shaped into claws and his head thrown back in ecstasy. Seeing just how feral you drive him makes your hole clench around his shaft, the squeeze causing his hips to stutter as a grunt leaves his lips. “Silvanus preserve me”, Halsin pants as he fucks into you even faster, “if you keep squeezing me like that I will not be able to stop myself from claiming you completely, from making you mine and filling you up with my seed.”

You whimper at the image of Halsin pumping his cum into you, fucking it deep into your womb until he is sure that it has taken hold. You cannot pretend you haven’t thought about it before, the idea usually sending an embarrassed heat into your cheeks, but now - gods, now you needed it.

Completely breathless you moan, “Halsin I- ah-! please-! Fill me with your cubs!” These words were the last needed for Halsin to lose himself completely in you, driving himself into you with punishing strokes that cause you to arch yourself into him while moans and whispered curses fall from both your lips. The coil in your stomach is so tight again and when Halsin takes the hand from your hip to softly press on your lower belly you see stars. Your walls clench around Halsin’s cock and you feel him twitch inside you, a sign that he too is close to release. All it takes to send you over the edge is his finger pressed against your clit, your body shaking violently beneath him, toes curling, while waves of ecstasy course through you and you cry out his name.

With a last snap of his hips and a low moan, Halsin comes as well, twitching cock releasing hot spurts of cum inside your still fluttering walls. He continues to pump into you until the aftershocks of your shared orgasm have subsided, before he slowly pulls out. You collapse onto the mattress, exhaustion settling over your overstimulated body.

Halsin gets onto the bed with you, gently gathering you up in his arms and placing your head against his broad chest. “You’ve done so well for me, little flower”, he whispers into your ear, placing soft kisses on your face before he looks your body up and down. One of his hands comes up to stroke a strand of hair away from your damp forehead and to gently lift your chin in order to look you in the eyes. You note worry in his gaze, his brows furrowed in remorse when he plants a feather light kiss on your lips.

“I’ve hurt you”, he states. “I’m so sorry, my heart. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

You smile up at him and cuddle deeper into his arms before you shake your head. “Don’t apologise. I loved every second of it. There is no birthday present in this world that can ever match this”, you confess with a shy grin. “Although I have to admit I’m a little sore. You sure did your best to make sure I’m unable to walk tomorrow.”

Halsin chuckles. “I can help with that”, he answers with a sly smile, his free hand sliding down your body to stroke through your soft folds, muttering an incantation under his breath. As the familiar glow of the healing spell engulfs his fingers, you feel a rush of warmth where he touches you. A moan escapes your lips before you could stop it, eliciting a mischievous smirk from your lover as you hide your face against his chest in embarrassment.

“I’d be happy to go again, my love, but I think you need some rest first. Besides, we still have an Elderbrain to kill, so we’ll need our strength tomorrow.” You nod at that, the tiredness in your bones leaving you unable to object, even if you had wanted to. But you know he is right, so when Halsin wraps a blanket around you to carry you to the bathroom, you just relax into his chest, the sound of his steady breathing soothing you.

When the bathtub is filled with warm water, you are already half asleep, barely registering that Halsin is gently cleaning you up, rinsing the sweat from your hair and body and rubbing salve over the bite marks and the bruises on your hips once you are dry again.

You can hear the soft snores and deep breathing from your companions when Halsin brings you back into the room you share, all of them already fast asleep. Absentmindedly you wonder how long you and Halsin have been away, but the thought is gone as soon as Halsin places you on your bed.

“Goodnight, my little flower. Sleep well.” He gives you a kiss and turns to leave. You manage to grab his hand before he does, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stay with me tonight?” you mumble sleepily. Halsin smiles, warmth and adoration filling his chest as he carefully climbs next to you, the bedframe creaking slightly with his additional weight, and wraps his arms around your smaller figure. The thought of how your companions might react in the morning seeing you two in one bed briefly crosses your mind, but Halsin’s steady breathing and the soft pulse of his heart against your back soon drown out anything else as you drift to sleep in his warm embrace.

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Part 2 is here now!