i relish the fact that astarion is nobody. he has no assets, no family, no goals, no true occupation—inept in society. but it doesn’t matter, because tav loves him for what he is.
but this makes him insecure, especially when she talks to objectively good people.
like when tav meets harper geraldus. handsome, righteous, albeit a bit nervous. he was cute, and actively tried for society. tav, jaheira and him discussed business, but astarion itched, hanging back with the others. fuck, shouldn’t he be involved with her? what could geraldus say that was better than his own retorts? was she sick of astarion’s sly comments already?
or what of tav’s relationship with halsin? and their conversations about thaniel, nature, and the greater good of the grove? nights by the fire, storytelling of his esteemed occupation as an archdruid?
would astarion be better if he was naturally an altruist? possibly. could he try harder? maybe. but it’s just not his nature. it makes him wonder: why does tav love him?
in the heart of city, his anxiety spikes. who would he choose to be, once he’s free from cazador? what could he provide? was he even capable of such a thing? tav notices his turmoil, and shares more gentle glances, touches. but his guilt persists. tav could love someone with so much more.
he envisions them in the future, perhaps at a ball or a festival, one with friends she needed to introduce him to. he’d walk up and shine a vampire’s smile, all bark and no bite. no i’m from’s or i work’s. it was simply him, and tav’s awkward smile, perhaps trying to convince them he was worth her time.
he could kill for her. spend a debauched night with her, trade silly banter her. but then what? eternally attuned to lust, what could he offer, in the name of love?
he’d study what it means to be good, whatever that meant.
but that didn’t mean it’d be life-altering. when tav was busy exploring the city with the others, he strolled past street vendors, straightening like he had a damned clue. he spotted a glowing ring (if it had any magical incantation, he wouldn’t know) and bought it.
(or rather, also convinced the merchant to lower his prices, not just for him, but everyone in this poor, war-torn city) (wait, was that a step towards… being good?)
“i can’t provide anything else right now, really,” astarion played it off that night, confidence thin over his awkward swaying as he nonchalantly threw tav the ring. he’d rather speak before she could make the first comment. things would’ve probably ended anyway.
but tav hugged him, and he froze, his performance fizzling out of his bones. damn it all, where was his confidence now? had love made him truly this soft?
it was all okay, because tav and astarion, in a city of work and coin, were both empty—the best scenario to be in when they both needed a void to fill.
(who knows, maybe one day astarion will buy a house near the water, where tav needn’t worry about a thing again.) (definitely not at full price, though.)
completely, utterly, and blissfuly under your thumb (and he wouldn’t have it any other way)
not a soul will ever hear him utter a bad word about you
every single one of his students know about you. not by accident— Gale will find a way to work you into any anecdote, and always manages to speak about you in such a sweet manner
sobbed when he saw you at the aisle
remembers every anniversary
call him your husband, even in a jest, and see what happens (it absolutely gets him. every.single.time)
will tell his friends he can’t make it because he “promised to spend time with his beloved” even if you never actually said so
when he’s out shopping (though not very often because he always wants to go with you), he’s always thinking of you. spices for your fav dish, book you might enjoy, a trinket he thought you would like…he jus’t can’t help himself
does everything you ask, no questions. if it makes you happy, he’s already on it
“where’s this? where’s that?" the number of times he’s misplaced things has you genuinely questioning how he survived before you
and when you find it, he will be like “oh, what would I done without my wife/husband” and kiss you senselessly
if you argue, he’ll quietly take the sofa for the night when needed (though he would feel very lonely…)
his students secretly poke fun at the way his cheeks flush whenever you surprise him at work with food or just to say hello (maybe because of that heated make-out sessions you do in his study after if time is kind)
when it comes to your home, you’re the one in charge. want to redecorate? change something? by all means—he’d even live with the ugliest piece of furniture if it meant making you happy
because he really is all about making his other half happy :’)
well, I think it's rather obvious but let me say it. Gale was made for marriage. he thrives in a partnership built on mutual support, on lifting each other up, on sweet talks, and kinky sex here and there
also a malewife
even after all these years, he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. romantic love, yes— but more than that you are his best friend as well, someone who cares, someone who won’t cast him aside and a truly beautiful and courageous soul
the thought of growing old with you isn’t daunting—it’s something he longs for actually
his best time? the slow, quiet evenings with you of course (let these moments be eternal, he wishes)
overall, a proud and loving husband through and through
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
hello! what would you add to that?
also! you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡
Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Astarion with touch starved gn s/o?
I ended up rewriting these a few times but I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!
Haarlep and Raphael with thouch starved S/O HERE
Halsin
Halsin would never say you were obvious, but figuring out you were touched starved was relatively easy to tell. Especially with the game you were playing, it was clear after the nth time you asked for healing from him from a mere paper cut on your finger. Though, could anyone really blame you? After spending so much time on the road, with no friendly touch for weeks, then when Halsin came to your aid to heal you from a particularly nasty hit from a goblin, That was the start of it, the aching for him; you had been healed by others before but…nobody did healing like Halsin. Most healers hover their hands over you, but Halisn would hold you, pressing his large but tender hands to your skin, letting his healing magic flow through from him to you; the touch would send tingling shivers through you; some would argue that it was from the magic…But you knew it was from his touch. Halsin was more than willing to help heal you every time; in fact, the consent wanting his touch helped you two connect. Halsin hoped you would confess you wanted him to hold you one day. But you never did. So when you came for healing from your “terribly painful stomach ache,” he knew he would have to make the first move. “I think I know the perfect solution to your problem,” he whispered before he wrapped you in a tight hug; every ache and pain melted away from his touch. It is truly the perfect medicine anytime you feel touch starved.
Every party of Halsin is perfection in your eyes. Oak father really did a fantastic job when it came to making him. However, the one place you’re always grabbing onto the most is his arms. It’s not hard to see why; it’s nearly impossible to keep from clinging to his massive limbs, snuggling into them, running your hands over his thick forearms. Halsin, the sweetheart, doesn’t seem to mind your clinging, even if he is busy carving away. Now that Halsin has noticed your fondness for his arms, he may or may not start to flex them subtly when gesturing or wearing shirts that expose them so you can see every slight rippling of his muscles. Halsin will let you cling to him as long as he can nuzzle into his favorite part of you later tonight…
Now usually you’re the needy one in the relationship, pleading for hugs and beaming every time you get wrapped up in Halsins arms. Today has been different, however. It started when you woke up with Halsins hands creasing your sides and snuggling into your neck, of course you melted at the touch, thoroughly relishing in the attention, but it didn’t end there. Usually, Halsin would walk through the woods for some meditation and to gather herbs and materials for you two, but today, he didn’t leave your side. Of course, you loved it, but a part of you was starting to get worried. When you brought it up, he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I just find myself wanting to be near you, my heart.” You squeeze his large hands back, “Well, let me help you, my love.” rising to your tiptoes, you begin to pepper kisses all over Halsins face. He grabs your waist and lifts you to meet his lips with yours quickly; the kiss only makes him needier.
He loves every part of you, from your hair to your adorable toes. But his hands consistently linger on your curves. On those days when you are feeling extra needy. Halsin is more than willing to help…In some inventive ways. The contrast is maddening… The smooth honey slips on top of your heated skin, and then Halsins rough tongue licks up the sticky liquid off your stomach. His hands guide your back to an arch as he keeps his hazel eyes on your moaning face. Sucking and licking as his hands continue to run over your squirming body. Halsin doesn’t know what is sweeter, the honey or you; he will spend all night trying to figure it out.
Zevlor
Zevlor has been around for a while but was never too familiar with the term ‘Touched starved.’ Sure, he had heard it back in his commander days from soldiers whispering about needing attention of the flesh but never truly gave it too much thought…until. The idea came to him when he noticed a particular trait of yours. You had no special awareness when it came to him. Consistently, you were leaning into him quite closely, and when you two walked around during perimeter checks, you would often bump into him or brush your hand against his. Of course, you would apologize for your clumsiness, but deep down, you knew what was happening…Your body was burning for him, his warmth, his touch, and it was seeking it out in any way possible. It didn’t click so quickly for Zevlor until he saw you sparing, and there was no inclination of any clumsiness in your movements; even with others, he never saw you bump or run into anything; your movements were precise and calculated…and that’s when he figured it out you were touching him purposely. Zevlors first thought was, why? Then his second was how can he tell you to only ask him for his touch. Finally, one day, as you two were doing your usual perimeter check, you slowly inched closer and closer to him, seeking the slight relief of his touch. Still, as you went to bump into him for only a moment, you found the ex-hellrider wrapped his arms quickly around you keeping you to his warm chest. Eyes wide, you go to apologize, but Zevlor is quick to quiet your worries, “If you need my warmth…please don’t hesitate to ask me…” After that day, you got a hug from him every chance you could…
Zevlor enjoys the sweet intimacy of your relationship. At first, he was not used to someone wanting to hold him so closely and shower him with affection, but slowly, he is getting used to it and enjoying it immensely. Though, you still find ways to surprise him…For example, when you start paying particular attention to his cheeks and horns, you can’t stop wanting to hold his face so tenderly and whisper soft praises to him. “I’ve never seen beauty like yours, Zevy…” he feels his heart melt at every whisper and every gentle touch to his skin. Then, if you happen to caress the base of his horns? Well…you have never heard such a deep pur.
It had been the first day in a long while that you and Zevlor spent most of the day apart. He had promised to speak to some recruits in the city, sharing his wisdom, and you had opted to stay at home. You were expecting him to come home at any minute, so you were working hard to prepare a surprise dinner for him. You missed him being home; usually, you would spend the day working in your small garden together and setting out laundry on the line together. It was lonely without him, so you planned to show him how much you missed him. As you were finishing your stew, you felt arms snaking around your waist. You gasped before his familiar voice eased you, “Be still, my dear, it’s only me…” Your body immediately relaxes as you turn to hug him back. “How was your trip?” Zevlor only hums as he buries his head into your neck. “I missed you…the road was lonely without you by my side…” you rub your hands up and down his arms as they hug you. Then you feel one of his arms part from you and hear the stove turn off; before you can ask anything else, you’re lifted and carried away toward your shared room. “Zev! What- What about Dinner?” “It can wait…I need to be close to you, just for a while…” The stew wasn’t eaten until much later…
“So beautiful…” his breath is warm as he whispers the complement into your neck. Zevlor’s lips caress your tender skin as he moves to your ear. You cling to his broad shoulders tighten, and your legs squeeze his textured hips. “You’re taking me so well. I’m proud of you.” The moan is involuntary as you feel him push deeper, his lips catching and nipping on your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to pierce, but his tongue soothing you so softly. Moving from your ear, you almost let out a whine before he blows a teasing breath on your neck, causing you to squirm and keen at the tickleing sensation. Zevlor’s fiery eyes look down at you, and that soft smile never fails to melt your core. He leans in, lips hovering over yours, his hands softly gliding down your waist, “I love you…” The vow is then sealed with a kiss.
Wyll
Wyll hadn’t thought of you as touched starved until you had to tell him flat-out. To his credit, you didn’t make it easy for him to figure out. When Wyll thinks of the term touched starved, he thinks of someone like him. Someone always willing to give out a hug or a friendly pat on the back; if you’re touched starved and in the proximity of Wyll, you were not touched starved for long. Hells, Wyll would risk the burns of hugging Karlach if she so requested. You, on the other hand, would never seem to be receptive to his friendly gestures, having grown up in a home with little affection and living on the brutal road for a while with a pleasant touch would always be a shock to your system. Especially from Wyll, it was like lightning shooting through your body with a new surge of energy you didn’t know what to do with, so you would tense up. After feeling you clamp up, Wyll simply thought you didn’t like to be touched, so ever the gentleman, he stopped. But that only made you begin to grave him…Finally, after days of seeing him touch and hug your other friends, you felt yourself going to pop. In a spur of the moment, you walked into his tent, staring at his confused features; timidness threatened to take you over, so with shaking limbs, you held your arms open with a shaky beg of “Please…” Wyll’s smile would grow so wide as he embraced you. “I thought you didn’t like to be touched?” “I…I like it when you do it…I crave your embrace…” Wyll will never make you ask please for a hug again…but other things, he might…
You couldn’t explain exactly why you love it so much, but you find you’re running your hands up and down Wylls strong back every time you get the chance. Maybe it was from seeing all its glory when he returned from the river or in the early mornings when he woke up for training. There’s just something about his broad shoulders that lean down to his narrow waist that makes your hands twitch to touch him. Wyll, of course, isn’t oblivious to how you take him in; that might be why he walks around without a shirt more often. His favorite part about liking his back is when you rest your head between his shoulder blades and hold onto him tightly. It never fails to put a smile on both your faces.
Between the two of you, you’re the one who is always slow to wake. On a typical day, you usually wake up to an empty left side of the bed, but this morning is different. You wake up to your body being held by what looks like a sleeping Wyll. Your first instinct is to worry and check him for a fever, but you find that he feels normal, and when he wakes, he greets you with a lazy smirk. “Are you okay, Wyll? You’re usually up by now?” Wyll hums softly as his eyes lazily roam over your form, “I woke up earlier but found that I couldn’t part from you…” His sweet words always make you blush, and you go to say you're sorry out of habit, but you’re silenced by him gently stroking your cheek. “Well, How about I make breakfast for us? We could eat together.” As you rise, you are quickly grabbed and trapped within his arms, his lips attacking your neck in a plethora of kisses, making you giggle. “You’re not going anywhere…I am not done with you yet…”
It’s always so slow, his hands sliding up and down your spread legs while your sex grows more and more aroused. One part of you wants to beg him to stop teasing you, but you both know that the loving pass of his hands on your skin is what you crave. Wyll keeps his eyes on yours as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The attention he gives you makes your mind hazy and your sex quiver in a way that only he causes. A moment of weakness causes you to moan his name. He will look down at your flushed face and smile against your skin before finally sliding his tongue on the spot you need him the most.
Rolan
Rolan is very familiar with the term being touched starved, and from being accused of it by Cal and Lia relentlessly, he was aware of the traits. Not that he thought he ever showed these. Then came you, and it was the end of him being touched starved. Rolan, at first, didn’t understand why every time you were near, your hand would absentmindedly rub in between his shoulder blades or how when you would go out to the tavern, you would sit so close to him, and it wasn’t as if you were unaware of this. No, from how you would look at his curious gaze with a smirk and a sparkle in your eyes, he knew you were messing with him. Though despite this…you two kept hanging out. If anyone would ask you if you longed for touch, you would say you only wanted Rolans and you had no shame about it; you just wished one day he would indicate the touch for once. Finally, one night, Rolan invited you to the tower to do some reading, something you could do at home, but you wouldn’t dream of passing up a moment to be around him. You two had found yourselves on the chaste, sitting very closely, exchanging blushing looks over the edges of your books, and with every passing page, you two would find yourselves inching closer and closer. Then, as your thighs are pressed together, you feel a warmth wrapping around your ankle. Looking down, you see his tail wrapped around you loosely, unsurely. Rolan had finally taken the initiative, and you were beaming. “If it bothers you, I can-” But before he could finish his sentence, you wrapped his arm around you as you curled into him more. You could hear the rapid rushing of his heart, and you could feel how it matched your own. “It doesn’t bother me; I’ve just been wondering what’s been taking you so long…” The teasing only rewards you with a tighter hold.
You find every part of Rolan to be utterly perfect, from his beautiful horns to his freckled cheeks to his toes. But the one part of him you constantly find yourself playing with is his tail, swaying and twitching like it has a mind of its own. You love to sneak behind him and run your fingers over the ridged base. The shiver and low growl he gives out every time makes you want to tease and touch him more, your hands becoming clammy for it. Today, you’re reading and mindlessly playing with the sharp tip till, finally, he’s curling the tail around your forearm and pulling you closer for a hungry kiss. He says he is being driven mad by your relentless teasing; you can only smile back before whispering, “Then you shouldn’t keep rewarding me…”
Rolan tries not to let his neediness get the better of him…but some days, he can’t resist your pull on him. Every time he saw you today, his hands roamed over every curve, his nose in the crook of your neck, and he muttered things you couldn’t catch. The attention was well received as you loved his every touch, but when you parted from him to wash up for the night, the look on his face was utter devastation. “I will be quick, then all night I am yours.” Rolan tsked as he let you go, sitting down in his chair where he would wait for your return. You tried your best to hurry into the bath but were not quick enough. As you wet your hair to be ready for washing, you heard the door open and were greeted by the magnificent sight of Rolan in a small cloth wrapped around his waist. He motions for you to make room. He removes his towel and joins you in the bath. You are happy but utterly confused, and Rolan is quick to defend his actions as he gathers soap into his palm, “You took too long, so now I am here to help; now turn so I can wash your hair.” Without any protest, you turn and relish in the feeling of his clawed hands, washing and lathering the soap in your hair, taking the time to scratch your scalp as he cleans you gently. Maybe you should have him wash your hair every time? If you asked, Rolan would be happy, too.
It started as a pleasant surprise; while you two were working at Sundries, his tail kept brushing against your butt, and when you two would be out of view from prying eyes, his hand would gently caress your ass. These are simple hints of his wants; you are always eager for his touch. Now here you are, pressed against the back wall with Rolan's needy hands grabbing tight handfuls of your butt. Pants are quickly discarded, and he gives you a quick slap to the soft exposed flesh for being such a naughty distraction. You keen and arch, grinding your ass against his burning erection. A deep moan when his nails dig into your flesh as he starts to rut into you deeply. Panting breaths, intertwined limbs, sweaty bodies desperately rocking against each other. It’s the night you learned that the Great Master Rolan is an ass man.
Gale
You never thought of yourself as touched starved; sure, you had points when you thought of being held or holding someone, but it was never something you would say you were starving for; well, that was until Gale. It was an accident when it happened; you two had offered to go to the morning market to gather supplies for dinner. The morning market was incredibly crowded, and you two kept getting separated. Gale, always the quick thinker, came up with the best solution. As he walked in front of you like a shield, he grabbed your hand and led you through. The gesture immediately stirred something within you, and as you walked hand in hand, looking at the back of him, you found yourself tightening your grip. During the rest of your time at the market, you two held each other’s hands. It wasn’t until you two returned to camp that you realized you held hands the whole way back. After that day, you reached out for his hand more often. Gale, of course, didn’t seem to mind. He liked the extra company, but getting you to let go so he could cut vegetables was challenging. After a while, you will find yourself craving more touches from Gale. So late one night, you crawled into his tent; when you woke him, he was initially surprised, asking you what you needed. “I…I think I’m touched starved…could…you hold me for a bit?” Gale’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, but he eagerly invites you into his arms, delighted to share in cuddles and maybe a few kisses.
It should be no surprise your favorite place to touch Gale is his hands. They are perfectly soft and fit perfectly within yours. You find that your hands are interlocked together if you’re by him. Gale finds your need to hold him in some way lovely and ultimately endearing. Gale’s favorite times when you hold his hands is when you are fast asleep curled up with him in his bedroll, your hands interlaced with his. He doesn’t dare move them because he knows you will only start seeking them again in your sleep.
You’re used to holding Gale’s hand, but on days he’s feeling needy, you find that his hands tend to roam. Today had been one of those days; his hands had started lazily, moving up and down your arms, gently grazing you all morning so tenderly. By the afternoon, his hands had found their way to run up and down your back, moving so slowly to send shivers through your body successfully. Then, in the Evening, they moved to trace your sides as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck. Finally, you asked if he was well, his lips smiling against your skin. “Perfectly fine…just being needy for you…does it bother you?” you feel your skin flush, and your lips curl to an excited smile. “No, I like the attention from you…” Gale is always ready to shower you with attention; you just need to ask…
The man didn’t lie when he told you he had a practiced tongue, and tonight, you are finding that out firsthand. You felt needy when you crawled into his tent; it was late, and he was surprisingly awake. At first, it was innocent, simple hand holding a kiss or two like other nights before to satisfy your need, but tonight, you’re finding your aching for more, and Gale knows this. All you need to do is ask…Your hands grip tightly to the blankets as his tongue works against you. Gales focuses as his hands grip your thighs, and he sucks and licks more. He’s desperate to taste your release all over his tongue, and with him always being so good to you, who are you to deny him?
Astarion
With all he had been through, the feeling of being touched had become unstimulating. Astartion had felt every kind of touch possible. Well, at least that’s what he thought, until you. The energy between you two had been electric from the first moment; you were brilliant, and his usual charms didn’t make you bend like they did others. In fact, for all his teasing, you would give back your own. It was like a game between you two, and it only made you crave each other more. Then it hit its peak…You were admittedly getting lost in his words as he spoke to you, but it was different; it was genuine, and you had never felt so close to others. So when you gently brushed back his hair as he talked, you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise. Your weakness shocked you, and Astarion was surprised by someone touching him so gently, as if he were made of glass. Going to take back your hand, it’s quickly caught by his, and gentle lips pressing to your palm sets your skin ablaze. The kiss was as soft as your touch, but Astarion can never pass up an opportunity… “Couldn’t help yourself anymore, hm?” You would accept defeat this once…
Astarion has never been a fan of cuddling…well, not until he met you. And what did you do to make him change his mind on the slow and intimate activity? Astarion loves the way your fingers brush slowly and carefully through his hair. He finds he has gradually become needy for that soft, gentle touch. On the other hand, you love the feeling of his soft locks slipping through your fingers; actually, there are many things you can adore about Astarion; you find the soft touch of brushing through his hair always seems to relax you. You could spend all night with him in your arms like this…and you do.
You didn’t know if it was your imagination, but Astarion seemed grumpy today. You had tried to joke around with him and even participate in some teasing and flirting, but he wasn’t receptive. Thinking it best to just drop it, you left him alone for the rest of the day, going about your usual task. Then Evening rolled around; you were getting ready for bed when you heard a throat clearing outside your tent. Poking your head out, you saw Astarion looking…bashful? “Do you mind…if I slept here…with you…I’ve…been feeling off…” One part of you wanted him to explain; he had ignored you, and now he wants to sleep in your tent with you? And wait, elves don’t sleep? But something about the look in his red eyes…he seemed…lonely…Gently, you reach your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt and pull him in softly. The rest of the night was spent with you sleeping with your head in his lap as he read to your sleeping form. Being around you made him feel so much better; it was as he thought…he was starting to rely on you, and for once, the thought of depending on another didn’t scare him.
Sometimes, you can not decide who is needer between the two of you. Of course, you two tease each other about it, but Astarion is always the better tease. You’re rolling your eyes in both pleasure and annoyance as he moves his tongue across your chest, your nipples peaked and sensitive to every feathery touch. You try to keep your moans in, but it’s useless; “You make such pretty sounds, darling, keep it up.” His cold hands move between caressing your chest and your skin to find your sensitive nipples. Red eyes look up at you, filled with mischief. Is he satisfied with just a taste? Or will he bite…
Synopsis: A lover's embrace is often all the comfort one needs. Your companions show you, through their touch, just how much your bond means to them.
[Lae'zel x Reader/Tav, Gale x Tav, Astarion x Tav cuddle headcanons]
Genres: Romance, fluff, humour, angst.
Dividers by: @saradika-graphics
(This turned out a lot more romantic and sentimental than the humour/fluff I'd planned. Either way, hope you enjoy it, lovely readers!)
Lae'zel: Dodge and Feint
In all fairness, you hadn't expected her to be party to softer forms of affection.
When all of this had started between you, it had been the result of a rather bold proposition after a difficult battle. Lae'zel had warmed to your fighting prowess, and your first time with her had reflected all of that desire, and more.
What you hadn't expected was the depth of respect, passion and acceptance you'd received from her, when you considered that in her eyes, you'd started off as a specimen of a weaker species with a nose that was too long for comfort.
If you'd been in her shoes, you're not sure you'd find yourself attractive.
Those thoughts aside, you'd found yourself wondering at times, whether you'd be able to persuade her to appreciate other things too. The softer side of affection, touch specifically, had always appealed to you.
You hadn't dared suggest as such to her yet, but you'd be lying if you hadn't fantasized about her strong arms holding you close, the tickle of her braids over your collarbone, the steady beat of her heart against your back.
But how to proceed?
Lae'zel was a tough nut to crack. You'd considered the direct approach; simply asking her outright for a cuddle. The images your mind threw up as a response made you choke on your tea. She might just coldly turn you down, and somehow, that seemed a lot worse than being punched in the face.
And yet ...
On a particular afternoon, after trekking through the mountains, your exhausted band had camped out on a rocky outcrop. The sky was an embroidered masterpiece above you, adorned with pearly stars stitched by some heavenly hand.
Blanket draped across your shoulders, you'd brought a steaming drink of mulled wine to Lae'zel, courtesy of Gale's stash of recipes. She'd glanced up at you silently, accepting the vessel.
You seated yourself beside her, before inching closer. She showed no sign of feeling the cold.
"The stars look beautiful tonight."
She turned her gaze upward, fingers curling tightly around the cup in her hand.
"I've seen the stars, up close. Most are chunks of cold, empty rock, without even the memory of a single soul's tread. They are beautiful, I suppose, in their loneliness."
Something in her description caught at your mind, causing you to glance sideways at her.
"And once you leave your tread on them? Do you think they retain some fondness of that moment?"
"Stars have no soul."
"And if they did?"
She snorted and took a sip of her drink.
"You ask the oddest questions."
"You seem to like them. Most of the time."
You offer a cheeky grin in response to her sharp look.
"You assume a great deal."
Emboldened, you shift up until your side is pressed to hers, before passing the blanket across her shoulders and tugging the end snugly back towards you, effectively wrapping you both within the soft, comfortable folds.
She didn't move, but raised her eyebrow at your actions.
"I don't recall saying that I was cold."
"Maybe you're not. Maybe you are. It's my job as your chosen partner to wrap you in a blanket either way."
"Hmm. More presumption. What do you gain from this? You'd feel warmer if the blanket was wrapped more firmly around just you."
Your voice grew softer, almost hoping she'd let the comment pass without acknowledgement.
"I like this better."
"This?"
"Being close to you."
She remained still and silent for the rest of the time, but you noted that she'd made no move to remove herself from your proximity.
In the course of your short relationship with her, you'd found that Lae'zel was highly observant, mentally recording a lot of the things you said and did, only to produce that knowledge later in the most unexpected ways.
A few days after that night camped on the mountain, she'd suggested a sparring session, with no weapons involved. You'd eagerly agreed, deciding that your hand-to-hand combat skills needed some practice.
Not that you'd appreciate being flung down into the dirt multiple times, but it was certainly better than being caught lacking in a decisive battle.
And Lae'zel had proven herself an efficient, if somewhat ruthless teacher.
You readied yourself for the session, stretching your muscles and hopping back and forth, limbering up. Lae'zel took a sip of water from her canteen before closing the top, joining you in the open glade near camp that you'd chosen for this session.
She didn't give you the grace of an easy start, as you knew she wouldn't. Her hands darted out, landing a series of sharp jabs against your ribs, so rapid that you didn't feel anything at first, but then the impact kicked in and you winced.
You took courage from the fact that just a month ago, you'd probably have been doubled over in pain. Lae'zel had certainly conditioned you well.
Regaining your balance, you swept your leg out, watching as she nimbly leapt back. You hadn't managed to knock her over, but you'd put some space between you.
Circling, watching her follow your motions, you felt a shiver pass down your spine. Lae'zel's demeanour shifted, very subtly, during sparring. You gained a taste of the way she faced her opponents in battle, focused, predatory, a born hunter stalking its intended prey.
You feinted high and swung a blow that actually landed on her side. You felt the muscles of her abdomen clench, absorbing the impact before her hand closed around your wrist and she tugged sharply. The momentum behind your swing had you catapulting forward, off balance, right into her powerful hold.
Your feet left the ground, and you heard her grunt as you turned the tables, throwing your full weight back. She went down, but her hold on you never slackened.
Breathing hard, you squirmed in her grasp, but she stayed firm, one arm looped around your torso, keeping your arms trapped at your sides.
You huffed out a frustrated breath. You'd really thought you'd had her for a moment. More fool you.
Tilting your head back against her shoulder, you gave your concession.
"All right, this round goes to you."
"Are you surprised? You shouldn't be. It'll take much more training before you can best me."
"Thought I did get lucky for a moment there."
She remained silent, but you noticed that she hadn't released you from her hold.
"Lae'zel?"
"What is it?"
"Are we ... continuing?"
She didn't answer, but her grip around you loosened enough for you to free your arms. You turned slightly.
"Is everything all right?"
"Of course it is," she snapped.
"Then why have you stopped?"
Her put-upon sigh blew against the shell of your ear, warm, almost gentle.
"I thought you liked this."
"What? Being wrestled to the ground?"
"No, you imbecile! Being close to me."
The pieces suddenly slotted together in your head with stunning clarity.
She'd wanted to offer you physical proximity, and offering a sparring match in a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of others, had obviously been the logical conclusion in her mind.
You almost laughed, but then decided that this would be a very, very bad idea.
Instead, you sighed happily and leaned back in her embrace, head tucking beneath her chin.
"You thought right. I do like this."
"Hmph. So easily pleased. You should be glad I volunteered this training session. Otherwise, you'd just have to go without."
Her triumphant (rather smug) tone sparked a surge of something unbearable in your chest, a yearning you hadn't know you were capable of feeling.
How did she manage to do this to you?
Even with her clumsy, abrupt manner, her biting comments, her quick and sharp reprimands, her stand-offish nature, Lae'zel had somehow rendered herself so vulnerable to you.
You could feel it in the way she pressed her cheek to the top of your head, you could see it in the way she trusted you to lead her. You could sense it in the way her words reached you, always sincere and spoken from the purest of fires that burned within her, a warrior's constant in your cosmic equation.
And when her lips find yours, the latticework of the trees above you seem to open up further, exposing the arch of the sky, and your fingers find their way into her hair, sinking into the sweet hope of traversing that endless plane alongside her someday.
Gale: Materials and Method
"So, I've heard ... "
You downed the last of the healing potion and looked quizzically across at Gale.
He cleared his throat and stirred the pot with a little more vigour.
"I've heard ... no, read, a treatise on the healing power of touch. You know. To make you feel better after ... large and potentially traumatic events."
You grinned at him.
"And where did you find this treatise? Sharess's Caress?"
He shot you a reprimanding look, betrayed a little by the way his mouth twitched.
"Hmm. I don't think we're talking about the same written work on the subject of intimacy, although, dare I say, both have their merit."
You propped your chin on your hands, your breathing now a little easier as you felt the potion go to work on the bruising around your ribs.
The bandits you'd encountered in the hills had gone down fairly quickly to your party's combined attacks, but not before getting in a few blows of their own.
"So tell me, what does your treatise say?"
"Well, it speaks of the psychological benefits, all well researched, mind you, of maintaining skin to skin contact with someone you are already ... attached to. Someone you care for."
"And how are any of these things measurable?"
"Ah, through the release of certain hormones in the blood. Those can be measured."
"Is it really as simple as that?"
He was quiet for a time, gaze distracted.
"There was a time when I thought it was. That perhaps, love could be quantified. That its increments over time could be precisely measured by how much ... one gave. And how much was taken."
"And now?" you prompted him, gently.
"Now, I don't prescribe to the same school of thought."
He turned to you and smiled, that familiar warmth you'd come to associate with Gale's regard passing pleasantly over your features, as if touched by some invisible sun.
"Now ... well, I don't know what I believe. Let's just say that I'm ... open to conducting more research."
"Are you now?"
"Indeed, I am. A fortunate position to be in, don't you think?"
You laughed and watched him stir the stew for a while. You were fully aware of what he had done, setting out the offer for you, waiting patiently for you to turn it over in your hands, consider it from all angles, and decide if you'd give your consent or not.
In actuality, your mind had been made up some time ago.
"So, is there any way I could help you with your research?"
"There most certainly is."
His answer came a little too quickly, and your expression grew sly as you noticed the embarrassed flush steal up his neck.
"All right. Humour me, Master Gale. Where does all research begin?"
"With a question."
"How do I know if I'm asking the right one?"
"You have to refine it. Make it as concise as possible."
"Hmm. Here goes then. Gale, would you like to position your arms around me?"
"That's the wrong question. The real one should be- "
"About the benefits of embracing someone. I'm aware."
"Then - "
"Let's cut to the chase and begin experimenting?"
He uttered a soft laugh, one infinitely full of affection. Rising, he approached you with playful deliberation, pausing before you, one hand on his chin.
"I'm simply taking a moment to check whether you're ... receptive to my experiment."
You drew your knees together and raised your voice in a piteous falsetto.
"Oh, what foul Gods have sent this mountain breeze my way? I am so very cold. If only a warm and toasty man, of the scholarly persuasion, could come by and warm me."
Gale checked off a point on one of his fingers.
"It seems my services are required after all."
He resumed his steady pacing around your form.
"Next, I should observe the reactions before and after an embrace. Does it really have the intended effect, or can my subject survive quite well without it?"
You collapsed sideways across the log you were seated on.
"Oh, I am about to perish from this cold and loneliness. If only there was a man with a handsome beard, smelling slightly of stew, to come by and deliver sustenance to my soul."
"Ah. It seems they are both cold and lonely. A frightful combination, to be sure."
Gale was now right behind you, both hands coming to rest on your shoulders. His touch was light, but the weight of intention laid heavy across you both. He began to move his palms in soft soothing circles, beginning at the tops of your arms and slowly traversing the slope of your shoulders.
"Now, how does this feel?"
"Quite marvelous. I feel like I may be cured in no time."
"Never rush to conclusions like that. A true scholar would question the validity of what they feel in this moment. Does it really make you feel good?"
"Are you ... fishing for compliments under the guise of scientific inquiry?"
"I am merely following the method. Wiser men than me speak for its merits, you know."
"Well, wiser men seem to be beating about the bush an awful lot. It feels wonderful, Gale."
There was a pause before you felt him shift, the material of his trousers scraping across the log as he stepped over it and positioned himself in front of you. You took his outstretched hand, standing to face him.
"Looks like the spirit of experimentation is growing bolder."
He shook his head, shoulders heaving with silent laughter.
"You've played along wonderfully so far. Don't stop now."
"Oh, fine then."
You straightened and met his eye, shivering slightly in anticipation at what you'd seemingly kindled there.
"What next?"
"Put your hands on my shoulders."
When you complied, he stepped into your space, breath fanning along the flesh of your ear.
"And now for the final determination. The proving of my hypothesis, so to speak."
His arms slid around your waist, gentle, enclosing you in everything he was, his hold always considerate, but firm. You felt the light scratch of his beard against the side of your neck and inhaled sharply.
"And what is your hypothesis?"
"That this is most beneficial indeed."
"I have to agree."
You felt the curve of his lips against your skin, the tightening of his arms as he drew you close, enveloping you in his scent. Your hand found the nape of his neck, running up into the flow of his hair.
He inhaled deeply, taking you in, before he froze, gripping your waist and moving you a little further away. In the dim light, his eyes gleamed with amusement and chagrin.
"I do believe, in my desire to test this hypothesis, that I've managed to burn the stew."
Astarion: Practice makes perfect
He was staring again.
You could feel his gaze tracing along your skin, like molten threads of metal through a sword, fresh from the forge.
Making the journey from the Shadow-cursed lands (now no longer under the hold of Ketheric Thorm), had been slow at first. Your party was exhausted after the battle at Moonrise Towers.
Even though you had taken respite afterwards, the imperative nature of your mission to overthrow the Absolute was pressing. You compromised by setting a steady pace towards Baldur's Gate, frequently stopping to rest and re-supply.
As occupied as your thoughts were with what awaited you in the city, there was another puzzle to be unraveled.
Astarion's recent behaviour.
Since your encounter with the drow blood merchant, Araj Oblodra, there had been some revelations in your relationship with him. Astarion had come clean about his original 'plan' to seduce you, and his own budding feelings that had put an end to it.
As much as you were still processing what it all meant, you couldn't help the spark of hope that
flared every time you looked at him and saw the genuine softness and affection, the well-concealed pleasure he took in your company.
And now, there was something new. This ... watchfulness, for want of a better term.
You couldn't make head or tail of it.
He seemed to be waiting to ambush you at every dark corner in camp, his flowery drawl snaring you every time you passed his tent. He sat with you while you ate, even considering his distaste for regular food. Sometimes, you'd check your clothing and find new embroidery or repairs, probably done in the dead of night.
All this was well and good. You could accept the attention, and lavish him with your own, but he seemed to be ... expecting something from you, and you couldn't possibly make out what it was.
It was obvious that he was growing rather impatient with your lack of discernment. Once, you'd given him a peck on the cheek to say good night and you'd spied the flash of hurt that had lingered in his eyes for a moment, covered up instantly with charm and wit.
It was bothering you to no end.
What did he want from you? Why wouldn't he come out and say it?
On one particular night, the thoughts he'd inspired left you tossing and turning, sleep evading you. Rolling onto your back, you stared at the roof of your tent.
Right. No answers there.
It was then that you heard it; a soft tread just outside. Raising your head slightly, you listened carefully, one hand inching beneath your bedroll for the knife you kept handy there.
The footsteps stopped, then started up again. You realised that the person was pacing. Up and down. To and fro. It went on for some time, with pauses in between.
You put the knife back.
No assassin would be this indecisive. And besides, you recognised that tread. Your senses had all but made it highly familiar.
You called softly into the night.
"Astarion?"
The footfalls stopped abruptly.
"I know you're there. Come inside. It's so cold out."
There was a pause before he pushed the flap aside and crawled in. The dim glow from the campfire filtered into your tent, outlining him in flickering shadow.
He sat cross-legged, silent.
You waited for a few seconds before inching across to him, wrapping your blanket around his shoulders and retreating.
He uttered a small sound of frustration.
"Why do you do that? I'm not made of glass you know."
You frowned. He sounded ... tired. A trifle bitter.
"Do what?"
"You know what."
"Astarion."
You took his hand, feeling his strong, cool fingers clench convulsively around yours.
"You need to speak to me. I really have no idea what's been troubling you."
"You ... it's ... why do you avoid me? What have I done wrong? Are you ... regretting being together with me? Is it not enough? I knew it couldn't be enough. Why else would you ... "
You held up a hand to stem the confused flow of words, bewildered.
"What are you talking about? I've never once avoided you. I love being with you. You know that."
He was watching you again, eyes flicking between yours, as if to catch some hint of insincerity.
He found none, of course. You felt some of the tension leave his body, but your question still remained unanswered.
"You need to tell me. Why do you think I avoid you? And when?"
He shifted, dropping your hand and taking a deep, bracing breath.
"Do you remember the night we ... spoke. After meeting with that drow merchant?"
"Of course."
"Well ... why haven't you come to my tent since then?"
He waved his hands wildly, as if to grasp answers from the air.
"I'm pretty certain that I don't smell bad, for an undead being. And I'm beautiful, that much goes without saying. My hair hasn't been at its best in recent times, I admit, but plant extracts are rather hard to come by in the Shadowlands, darling, and I - "
You snorted incredulously.
"Are you serious? You really think any of that would put me off you?"
"Well, obviously something has. You don't ... you haven't ... "
He cut off, head lowered, hands braced on his knees. This was evidently difficult for him.
Reaching out, you gently stroked his cheek, a flutter of something vital and warm surfacing as he leaned into your touch.
This foolish, foolish man.
But you had to choose your words carefully.
"Astarion, I haven't been avoiding you at all. I was just ... giving you space. You trusted me with the knowledge of everything you've had to endure. I wanted to let you ... come to me on your own terms and ... oh."
As soon as the words left your mouth, you realised what you'd done. Falling silent, you lowered your gaze.
He folded his arms.
"Oh indeed. You're truly dense at times, my sweet."
"But I - "
His finger laid itself across your lips as you opened your mouth to protest.
"Gods, you're the most lovely, silly, frustrating ... idiot I've ever had the misfortune to meet."
You scowled under his silencing finger, but the relief in his voice was so palpable that you couldn't help the smile that bloomed in quick succession. You reached up and caught his wrist, lowering his hand.
"So, you want me to ... not be quite as considerate of your space as I've been."
"One would think you'd get the idea, considering how I've been invading yours. Not your brightest moment, my love."
A laugh bubbled up in your throat.
"So that's what all of that was about."
"I'm so glad you noticed my bounteous desire for your company."
"All right then. Now that we've cleared the air ... what would you like me to do?"
He scoffed, some of his old panache returning. A welcome change.
"Honestly. Can you not remember a thing about that night?"
"Wait, what?"
"The thing you did."
"Eh?"
"Gods below, I've developed feelings for a deep rothé."
"Can you just tell me - "
"This," he hissed, before leaning forward and wrapping both arms around you. He released you almost instantly, observing your face with attentiveness. The firelight turned the ruby hue of his eyes to something darker, more desperate. In spite of his light-hearted banter, he was -
"Astarion."
Your voice was so full of tenderness, so soft, that you saw him flinch from it.
"Why didn't you just say so?"
"Well, it's not exactly - "
It was your turn to silence him, finger lightly grazing his lips. He took a shaky breath.
"What the fuck is this? Why is this so damnably difficult?"
"It's not. We just ... both of us just ... need to learn how to speak about things, I suppose. That's ... simple. Once you get the hang of it."
His voice had lowered to a whisper.
"It is?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure myself. But we'll start with this."
You held out your arms and he approached eagerly, slinging the blanket over both your shoulders. His unusually graceless movement pushed you off balance, and you tumbled back with a huff of amusement, tugging him down with you, his head knocking against the bridge of your nose.
"Ouch!"
"Lae'zel was right. Your nose is too big."
"What are your elbows made of? Gondian steel?"
"All the better to prod you with, my dear."
After a series of scuffling movements, you finally found yourself lying on your back, his head propped on your shoulder, just beneath your chin. Soft curls brushed your cheek as he shifted, his arm curling possessively around your body, leg sliding over yours.
His scent was familiar, breathtakingly so. It pervaded your senses, the sharp stringency of the soap at the Last Light Inn, the faint citrus essence of his hair cream, the smokiness of burning wood from where he'd sat too close to the fire.
You hadn't realised, until that moment, how you'd needed to hold him like this once again, the immediacy of his presence a comfort beyond words.
He raised his head slightly, mouth now on level with your ear. You felt the shift of muscle beneath his shirt, the slide of his hand against your ribs.
"Can we fall asleep like this? Every night?"
"We can."
"You ... really don't mind?"
You turned over, now facing him, your breath dancing across his lips.
In the dark, you couldn't see much detail, but you knew the lie of his features as well as the most well-traced map. Reaching up, you passed fingers lightly over his eyes, mouth, ears, nose, chin.
Your devstatingly handsome rogue. Your shadow dancer. Yours, in all his vulnerability, within these fragile canvas walls.
"I want to wake up to your face. On every morning until ... "
His lips silenced you, opening in unspoken passion against yours. When he parted from you, it was no loss. His entire body was pressed against the length of yours, and your arms had found their way around him again, holding him the way he had desired beyond anything.
"Don't. Don't say more. Just fall asleep with me."
"Just like that?"
You felt him smile into your hair.
"I suppose it''s simple, darling. Once you get the hang of it."
Gale x reader (no gendered pronouns or description given of reader.) Suggestive. Domestic fluff but things get a little heated by the end. Professor Gale. Established relationship. Kissing. Needy Gale. Dick joke.
Study Break
You sat comfortably on the tower's balcony, relaxed, and pleasantly engrossed in the story unfolding between the pages of your book.
Surrounded by home comforts and warmed by the golden glow of a lazy Waterdeep afternoon sun, you could happily remain there forever. The slow, rhythmic clap of the sea lapping at the foundation of the tower was the only measure of the languid passage of time. Sea birds called in the distance, following ships out of the harbor. And somewhere on the streets below a busker strummed a pretty melody on their lyre.
Not even the gentle thud of Gale setting his tome on the stand beside him roused you from your own reading.
It wasn't until you felt the weight of the wizard’s head resting in your lap and his arms winding beneath your knees to hug your legs that you fully registered that he had abandoned his work in favor of seeking your touch.
Your fingers absentmindedly threaded between the soft strands of his hair as you continued reading, determined to reach the end of the page. The afternoon sun made his silver hairs glint so prettily against his brunette, but your eyes were focused on the words before you.
Yet even divided, your attention was enough to make Gale groan contentedly. His eyes closed and his lips curved into a blissful smile. You knew he’d happily stay there as long as he could, until his feet went to sleep and his back was stiff.
“Have you finished planning your lessons?” you asked, finally slipping an embroidered silk bookmark carefully between the pages– a gift from Gale's mother, Morena.
The wizard chuckled, “Not even close. But my eyes were beginning to ache and my heart too. I was starved of your affection.”
“You poor, neglected thing,” you said, the warmth in your voice clear as you stroked the hair back from his temple and tucked it behind his ear. “What has it been? Two? Three hours?”
“Oh, it must have been a tenday at least. But no matter, just a minute of your attention is enough to fill my heart to the brim. There's even more magic to be found here in your lap than between the pages of a book.”
He gazed up at you like you were his very own sunrise, the corners of his warm chestnut eyes adorned with lines deepened by years of happiness. No matter how long you'd been together, the wonder in his eyes when he looked upon you had never once faded. And you were certain he saw that same adoration reflected in yours. He must've. You certainly felt it radiating from you with every breath, every heartbeat.
Gale was yours completely and you were entirely his.
Slowly, your hand drifted down the curve of his cheek, your fingertips rasping through the coarse hair of his beard that the two of you had fought hard against his mother– and even harder against Tara– to keep. A contented hum rumbled from his throat as you cupped his chin, and tilted his face toward your kiss.
Pleasant tingles rolled through you at the warmth of his breath and the gentle graze of his lips against yours. Chaste at first, then hungrier and deeper. And oh, how he kissed you; like you were beyond precious. Like you were sacred.
Soft and slow, his lips parted, welcoming the caress of your tongue. He rewarded you with the sweetest sighs and muted moans that made your toes curl.
Those doting eyes pleaded with you when you drew back; please, more. But he simply rested his brow against your knees and chuckled breathlessly.
“The things you do to me,” he sighed. “I beg that you never stop kissing me like that.”
“I promise. I couldn’t if I tried. But I shouldn’t distract you, not while you’re planning your classes.”
Gale’s eyes sparked with that familiar glint of mischief. “Ah, well, while I appreciate your attempt to keep me on track, I fear I would be remiss to point out the abundance of evidence that a rested mind is an efficient mind, and that it is far, far, far easier to focus on a particularly laborious task, such as lesson planning, when going about it undistracted.”
“Ah,” you said, mirroring his playful tone. “So you’re saying it’s easier for a wizard to focus on his books when he isn't distracted by the whims of his quarterstaff?”
“My love, I can assure you we’re way past a quarter. Suffice to say this particular wizard is wielding a full staff, and quite an achy one at that.”
“Is that so?”
He simply smiled, a little pleased with himself, and gazed up at you with the utmost affection. Warm, careful fingers wound around yours, bringing your hand close enough to his lips to feel the caress of his breath.
His voice was sincered and deliciously honeyed as he finally replied, “It is.”
“Well,” you said, closing the gap between your hand and his lips to trace their shape with your thumb. Your breath shuttered as Gale's eyes closed, bewitched from the slightest touch. He parted his lips to allow your thumb between them, softly caressing the tip with his warm, wet tongue. “I suppose it would be cruel of me to leave you aching…”
A/N: this is my first time writing for Gale and I'm nervous! I hope I did this lovely man justice. Likes, comments, and reblogs are really appreciated 💜
been thinking about cuddling up to knight!karlach for warmth during the colder winter nights bc the castle gets chilly (it's old and drafty, even if it is grand), and her just being sooooo flustered in the beginning, so stiff when you ask her to get under the covers with you --
"loosen up, soldier, i'm not gonna attack you."
"at this point, princess, won't lie -- might make me feel better if you did --" she coughs with a tiny laugh, glancing towards you. and gods like this, she can see the moonlight as it gilds the curve of your shoulder, smell the sweetcream and buttermilk of your skin, the faintest hint of roses from the petal-strewn water you always use to wash your hair.
you frown slightly, tugging her closer, and she finds herself slipping on the silken sheets, on arm now pressed to your chest as you soften against her.
"mm, you're so warm... sorry -- are my hands cold?"
karlach bites down a shock of shivers as you press your palms to her side. and even though she can feel the coolness of your fingertips, she can also feel the thrumming of her infernal heart, the flames flickering blue as it licks down her limbs. you cock your head.
"i haven't seen that before..."
the blue flames flare as karlach averts her eyes, trying not to think about the way your knee is pushed against the side of her thigh, how if she were to flip over towards you, she could curl you into her chest, press her nose into your hair, tilt your face up till you're lips are close enough to kiss --
"it's uh -- well, it tends to flare up when i'm --"
"when you're excited or flustered, yeah i know," you say, the barest hint of a tease grazing your voice as she worries at her bottom lip, trying to fight against the rapidly rising heat pulsing inside her chest, tingling through her limbs till it sizzles at the very tips of her fingers and toes.
she lets out a long, shaky breath.
"princess..." and in future, she might try to deny that she had ever whined. but in the moment, the dip and flick of her voice so very nearly sounds like one.
to her immense relief, you don't try to tease her further. instead, you shuffle in closer and loop your arm around her waist, and unbidden to her, comes the image of what you might look like straddling her hips, or even easier than that -- pinned beneath her.
the blue light sparks along her skin, static -- electric.
you press your chin into the bare skin of her shoulder, your breath a coaxing wind to her barely tempered fire.
"karlach?"
"yes, m'lady?" her voice comes out hoarse, and she almost curses herself.
your giggle sounds like baby's breath and first snow. you lean in and gently rest your forehead against her cheek. she thinks that she can feel the barest flicker of your lashes along her skin.
"thanks."
"what for, princess?"
you shift a little closer and karlach finds the tension in her own body melting away as she moves to accommodate the shape of you.
"just... being here. y'know."
karlach turns her head ever so slightly; up this close, she fancies she can count every drop of starlight caught in the dark of your lashes.
"i'll always be here, princess. always."
you press impossibly, inconceivably closer and karlach thinks she finally understands what people mean when they say that heaven might be a place on earth.
"good," you say, "i'll hold you to that."
karlach bites her lips, swallows down the words ebbing up the back of her throat, words that one day, she might have the courage to say out loud --
sure, princess, so long as i get to keep holding you.
Premise: After Astarion's confession at Moonrise, you decide that your usual style of feeding just won't cut it any more.
• Astarion x gn!reader • Mild rating •
Reader POV, fluff, conversation about boundaries set, sweetness, understanding, softness, Astarion feeding, despite female in the inspo picture no mention of gender, love, security, intimacy, doped out Astarion
2.3k words
Shoutout to @ladyofthecreed for this beautiful piece of art for @aevallare! How stunning is it? 🥹💜 And thanks to @crepsley for the tag 🙌
This is a little different than my usual smutty style but I saw this picture and felt inspired to write something a little softer for our boy ☺️
•°•°•
"You can feed on me tonight, if you'd like." You offered with a smile.
"I was so hoping you'd say that." He lilted back to you.
You took a breath to speak again and stopped.
"Yes, my sweet. What is it?" He questioned, with a curious tilt of his head.
After the incident with the Drow at Moonrise yesterday, Astarion had confessed some deep feelings and troubles he'd had.
After he'd admitted his growing feelings for you, despite it starting out as a manipulation, he'd stated very plainly that he didn't want anyone to think of him in terms of sex but that he still wanted to be with you.
So, you'd suggested that you'd become friends first, instead of lovers. That you would still be together but wouldn't have sex until he was ready, if he ever would be.
He'd obviously joked and tried to lessen the mood with a flippant remark but you'd learned him well enough to see he was appreciative of the gesture.
You'd pulled him into a hug, and after his inital shock, he'd held on so tightly he had been reluctant to let go.
He'd offered his hand to hold yours and a silent bond was made between you.
You'd been thinking on this development between you this last day since your conversation together. Pondering on ways to make him more comfortable, to give him more autonomy within the relationship.
Astarion had been very sweet and attentive throughout the day. Like something had settled within him, like something had slotted into place.
He'd stuck very close by you, while carefully adventuring through the perilous Shadowlands.
During battle he'd taken a more protective and defensive role around you, instead of stealthy and offensive.
Several times throughout the day, he had slid his hand within yours and lightly squeezed - completely unprompted - just to feel the warmth of your skin.
He'd also spotted something that would be valuable to you in a fight and gifted it to you; you didn't ask how he'd gotten it, even though you could probably guess.
And now, it was time to settle down for the night, he'd dragged his bedroll to rest next to you. Producing a small potion from his pack, you assumed he was probably already hungry and needed to feed, hence your invitation, but you needed to discuss this first.
"I've been thinking, about what you said last night, about not thinking of you in terms of sex," you started, his face pulled into an unsure expression, "It's nothing bad, it's that I've been thinking about how you feed. It's quite, sexually charged. Especially the way you feed. It's urgent and rough and-"
"-Rough? I thought I was being gentle. You've not said anything since that first night. I-" He sounded hurt, afraid he'd been causing you pain. You hushed his worries.
"That's not what I meant, I'm not making an issue of it, I promise. It's not something to be sorry for, it hasn't bothered me until now. I thought it was all part and parcel of the experience; foreplay, if you will?" You shrugged.
"I mean, you'd feed, get hard and then we'd usually fuck. But now I believe we need to re-think our approach." You explained further.
"It's not that having sex wasn't out of desire for you. It's-it's complicated to explain," he signed with a furrowed brow, "I told you, that it's not that I'm not attracted to you, trust me," he smiled wickedly, you shook your head and went to speak but he cut across you to continue.
"You are wholly different to ones I've seduced before. This was of my own voilition, for one - although out of necessity as transactional protection but - things have changed. I've changed. You've made me see what I'm capable of. You've.." he paused, swallowing and looking around the vicinity for the right words.
"You've encouraged me. Had faith in me. Shown me kindness I've not felt in two centuries. I care for you in a way I thought impossible, but I don't know how to be with someone, without reliving the past.. But I desperately want this to be real, truly real." His claret eyes bore into yours, pleading and sad. You slowly raised your hand to cup the side of this face.
"This is real, just because it's not a sexual relationship, doesn't mean it's not real." You smiled, reassuring his doubts. He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. Your heart squeezed as his cool cheek pressed further into the warmth.
"The act of a vampire feeding on someone has been made inherently sexual. It's been fetishised, and so in turn, has the whole vampire thing. Which works to the vamp's advantage. I can't blame the people for it. Being bitten, being fed on is an intoxicating experience." You couldn't help but shudder at the memories of you both pressed together.
"For me too," He breathed, his neck tensing, "The feeling of feeding has no match."
You smiled softly and sighed, "Like you said, 'There's nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire'." You both pursed your lips in bitter resignation.
"So, to remedy this, we need to unsexualise it going forward," you continued, "Before feeding was all teeth and rubbing up against each other like animals. Now, it's going to be slow and intimate. Not sexual intimacy, true intimacy." You flattened you palm to your heart, to help illustrate your point to him.
"It'll be different to the enemies you drain on the road, or in battle. It's you and me, and that's special. We need to make it special." You smoothed the cool touch of his cheek under your thumb.
He swallowed and sat up, intrigued, "What did you have in mind, my dear?"
You certainly had had some ideas.
"Well, you've tried both of the 'best' places to feed from; the jugular and the femoral," you announced, gesturing to your neck and inner thigh, "But I was thinking of the wrist? It's a pretty neutral place to feed from."
"Sounds reasonable. It's certainly a slower feed than the neck, or thigh." He agreed with a head tilt, "Although they are an awful lot of fun." He said through tilted gaze and a dangerous grin, his hand gliding up your thigh to caress it.
Your stomach flipped from habit, but you squashed it down.
"Stop it," you chastised him with a gentle nose boop. He scrunched his face and let out a small, high chuckle. His hand relented to your knee, thumbing the seam where he'd stitched a hole for you.
"Feeding will be more about taking the time to connect with each other, without sex. It'll be slow, patient.. calming." You let out a long, cleansing breath and blinked slowly, to emphasise the point.
"Very well, then. Henceforth, I shall drink from your wrist when you're resting." He gave a tilted nod.
"Um, no. I was going to suggest feeding before sleep. I'd like to be present with you. Truly present with you. Not groggy from sleep, or blissed from sex. I'd like to be with you."
He looked taken aback, but interested, "Alright then.. feeding before rest," he said, testing the idea on his tongue. He seemed to measure it acceptable before asking, "Could I.. request something of you.. while I feed?" He asked, his words measured.
"Of course, darling." You answered enthusiastically, glad for his input.
"Would you.. play with my hair?" He requested, a little sheepishly, "I-I find it. It's not a sexual thing, before I always hated it but.. when you do it-it's.. comforting to me. I-I don't know why."
Your heart swelled and your eyes began to gently fill at the surprisingly sweet request.
"Of course, I will." You smiled, blinking back unexpected tears.
Astarion smiled back and took a faux breath and huffed it out in expectation.
"So, shall we, my dear?" He flourished a hand for you to lie down.
"We shall," you nodded, "How do you wish to do this?"
"Lying down would be fine." He suggested.
"If that's what you'd like." You began unfolding your leg from the crossed position to stretch it before laying down.
"Wait.." he stopped, then looked up through curious eyes, "What about this?" He asked, as he gently laid the side of his head down on your thigh.
You beamed, "That's nice.. wait-" You scooched a little more, "Lay on your back."
He did as he was told and shuffled around so the back of his head lay fully on the cushioning meat of your crossed leg, the other extended alongside his body.
You gazed down at him laying contentedly in your lap, "How's that?" You asked.
He manoeuvred himself to rest more squarely, testing the feeling, which he seemed to agree with.
"Comfortable."
"Which wrist?" You offered both in the air.
"Wrap your arms around, and I'll feed from your non-dominant one."
You leaned down more, rounding your spine so you weren't sat so upright. You cradled his head with your arms and let your wrists hang loose.
Astarion took your hand and wriggled himself within your arm's embrace, then looked up and smiled at you. Your own broadened across your face.
"Is this alright?"
He nodded, paused then crooked a finger at you.
You bent down a little more and he brought his fingers to tenderly grasp your chin and pulled you in for a delicate kiss, barely anything in comparison to others you had, but filled with a warmth and softness that hadn't been there before.
"Thank you." He breathed, "For thinking of this, for respecting my wishes."
The breath was stolen from your lungs and your chest ached. You couldn't deny it any longer. You were in love with him.
You didn't reply, you simply pressed a kiss to his forehead, "Eat up."
He paused again, looking like he was about to say something but decided against it. He took your hand and carefully pulled up the sleeve, before bringing it to his nose to inhale deeply.
This was a little ritual he liked to do, like a fine wine; you have to smell the bouquet.
He chastely pecked several times at the thin blue lines on your inner wrist, before slowly sinking his fangs and drinking deeply.
The pain, while still present, was surprisingly minimal. Much less sharp than his usual snapping bite down on your neck, or inner thigh.
You rest your other arm on his chest, but quickly his other hand grasped your hand and placed it on his hair.
You grinned to yourself, "My mistake, sorry dear." You admonished yourself, giggling, while beginning to weave your fingers into his loose curls.
Astarion mumbled against your skin, something sassy no doubt, but it was hushed by the sensation of his hair being twisted between your deft fingers.
He moaned into your wrist but it wasn't with reverent pleasure, it was in contentment.. ease..
You stared down at the beautiful pale Elf laying in your lap, feeding gently on your life essence. His ears were lightly wiggling as he drank, latched onto skin.
You stifled a laugh, he was like a kitten nursing milk. It was too adorable. Of course, you'd never seen this angle to witness it before. It was beyond endearing.
He looked so peaceful with his eyes closed, slowly drinking his fill of your blood. His body language relaxed, instead of poised to pounce. The pace of his pulls against your wrist laboured and suckling.
Seeing him like this, calm and steady, instead of scared and jittering, unlocked a compartment of your heart you'd fervently kept closed off from the world.
Gods, you loved him.
You loved him so much you ached.
Your heart physically panged to see him so blissfully unbothered and relaxed.
You smoothed his locks like petting a contented animal. You brushed his hair out of his face, and twirled it between your fingers, then wove fingertips under the length, to massage the base of his skull.
Each movement illiciting a gratified sigh, his body sinking lower and lower into your lap.
After a while, your head started to feel woozy and your extremities were starting to go cold and numb.
"Astarion?" You whispered, gently rubbing your hand on his chest and tapping twice with your peace fingers, "That's enough, love."
He stirred, dazed from feeding. He clamped his two fingers on the puncture marks, as you reached for the healing potion from his pack to pour over them. A small drizzle and the marks were healed.
You took a steading breath and swigged the rest down to help with restoration of blood before a spell from Shadowheart in the morning.
Stoppering the empty bottle and placing it on the ground, Astarion's weight still lay heavy on your lap.
His lips and teeth dyed the colour of you, as he smiled dopily, eyes remaining closed.
You sat with him in the moment, returning to weave his white curls between your fingers. The vague warmth of your blood coarsing through him transferring back to you through skin contact.
Astarion let out a serene and easy sigh, his eyes heavy as he tried to open them.
"That felt.. very different." He whispered, almost like he was breathless.
You kissed your fingers that waited on his chest and pressed them to his temple. He kissed the air back at you, body still heavy and exhausted.
"I don't know how to describe it. My body feels heavy, but light.."
The light pulse of your blood through his dead veins was present again under the pads of your fingers.
"I assume this new feeding technique is a success then, dove?" You inquired, keeping your voice low.
Astarion swallowed thickly, the stain of blood still on his teeth. He licked his lips lethargicly, "Most certainly. I feel.. completely.. utterly.. totally.."
"I hope the end of this sentence is a good one." You teased at his lack of composure.
He let out a sharp exhale of amusement through his nose, "It is.." he muttered.
You smoothed the line of his jaw, careful to not touch his sensitive ears. You smiled at the recent memory of them twitching as he fed.
"Did you know your ears wiggle up and down when you feed?" You asked in soft merriment.
"I did not.." he replied, flexing his eyebrows slowly.
"It's very cute."
"I am not cute." He tried to exert, with not much conviction, "I am a terrible creature of the night, feeding on helpless victims. I am a monster. I am not cute." He posited in feigned outrage.
You gazed down at the soft, tortured, beautiful soul in front of you and quickly blinked back the tears that swelled.
"No, you're not my love.. and I promise one day you'll see yourself the way I see you." You beamed at him.
Astarion squeezed your hand three times, you repeat it back. You take a shaking breath in and blow it out, smiling.
In the quiet of a combat-weary camp, Tav gives Gale something rarer than magic or power: the space to simply rest, safe and loved.
Tags: fluff, touch starvation, non-sexual intimacy, quiet caretaking, Gale getting some much needed rest
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It had been a particularly trying day.
Too many villagers to help, goblins to obliterate, and an unlucky run in with a group of cultists had left the entire party drained. Most of the camp was empty, companions slipping away for the respite of their own tents. Even Astarion had slunk away into the darkness to do who knows what.
Only Gale remained at the fire, posture exhausted as he read from a worn tome. His shoulders were stiff with the weight of the day, a sort of bone deep ache of someone carrying burdens far beyond his years. His brows furrowed in gentle focus as his finger traced gently over the words, mouth moving soundlessly.
Tav padded over, careful to not startle him as she settled down against the log next to him. His eyes flicked up with an affectionate, tired smile.
“My love. You should be asleep.”
“So should you.”
Gale didn’t respond, eyes back on the text as Tav studied his profile, the lines under his eyes stark in the firelight.
She hesitated for a moment.
Then, without speaking, she reached up and slowly threaded a hand through the curls at the back of his head. His hair was softer than she expected, thick and smooth between her digits as she carded through it aimlessly with her fingers.
Gale froze for a moment, body stiffening as his hands stopped on the book. His frame went tense under her fingers. Tav pulled her hand back, suddenly awkward.
“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“No,” he said, a touch too quickly, “No, it’s okay.”
Tav paused for a moment before cautiously returning her hand to its position, nails scratching at his scalp. He startled again minutely, but his finger resumed its slow path across the book as his posture softened.
She continued, hand working gently through brown strands. Her fingers traced leisurely patterns across the side of Gale’s head as his shoulders relaxed slowly, tension draining out of him.
By the time Tav’s fingers reached his temples, he was leaning into her touch - just barely. Lightly enough to give himself plausible deniability. His eyes were open, fixed still on the book. He hadn’t turned a page in over five minutes.
How long had it been since someone had last touched him with such kindness, not expecting anything in return?
How long since someone had reached to comfort simply because he was there and tired?
He couldn’t remember.
Tav smiled fondly, hand deft as she massaged his scalp. His strength bled out of him, drowsiness washing over his features like the tide.
Without a word, Gale set the book aside and shifted in place, turning away from her and lowering himself gingerly until his head came to rest gently on her thighs. He didn’t look up at her, eyes closed as he settled into a comfortable position.
Tav’s hands hovered uncertainly in the air before settling back on his head and resuming her petting. A deep sound left his body, half exhale, half sigh. His muscles went lax, pliant under her handling as his breaths evened out.
He was…falling asleep, Tav realized. In her lap. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Gale looked somehow younger like this. The confident poise he usually held himself with was gone, melted away. The lines of tension on his face were reduced in sleep, leaving his face soft and at-ease in a way never present in wakefulness. His body rested without strain on the ground next to her, comfortable despite the lack of bedding.
He was utterly vulnerable like this, she thought with awe, completely defenseless without even the meager protection of his tent.
In a world full of threats, he had chosen to sleep in her lap. Breath ghosting warmly across her knee. Confident that he was safe there, confident that she would not let harm come to him.
Tav felt a lump rise in her throat at the awareness. She shifted slightly in adjustment, trying not to disturb him.
Gale stirred but didn’t wake, curling unconsciously closer to her. One hand found its way to the extra fabric of her tunic and twisted itself into it loosely, childlike, as if reassuring himself she was still there.
Tav’s heart ached with affection. She watched him with abject tenderness, still stroking her hand through his hair. She loved him desperately, so much she thought she might choke on it.
Instead, she bent and lightly pressed a kiss to his forehead. Gods, she didn’t know what she had done to earn this much trust but she would do anything to protect it. Anything to let him rest.
Tomorrow, they would get up to face another day full of cosmic terrors. Tomorrow, Gale would wake, awkwardly embarrassed at having imposed on her space all night.
But in this moment, the world was narrowed to the two of them. His head in her lap. Her hand in his hair. And for now, that was enough.
