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♡
A collection of some of the sapphic romance art that I have created over the years, Caitlyn x Vi from Arcane, Imogen x Laudna from Critical Role and Karlach x my Durge Amaranthine from BG3.
I hope it is as heartwarming for you as it is for me!
I love drawing romance, my heart always flutters while working on it 💓
Synopsis: Love brings its fair share of sweetness and desire. Headcanons for the companions, on the occasions that Tav charms them quite thoroughly.
Featuring: Headcanons for Tav/Reader x Halsin, Tav x Gale, Tav x Karlach and Tav x Astarion.
Contents: Romance, humour, suggestive language.
Dividers by: @saradika-graphics
(Here I am readers, with more companion romance headcanons. They just keep coming. I am cringey. I embrace it.)
Halsin
"There, more to your left. Yes, that. Careful now. The footing's slippery, this hour of morning."
Elated, you placed your prize in your small satchel. The medicinal moss Halsin had taught you to identify and harvest would work wonders in creating more potent healing draughts.
Yes, they were found in the rather treacherous upper branches of the trees in this particular forest, but the hazard was well worth the -
Your triumph morphed within seconds to a sickening lurch in the stomach region, your foot sliding precariously along the branch you were perched on. You let out a decidedly undignified yelp as you struggled to find purchase and failed.
Halsin was shouting something up at you from where he stood at the base of the tree. Fingers scrabbling for a crevice, you managed, somehow, to cast an almost bungled spell of feather fall before you tumbled down through the foliage.
The effects of the spell took hold, not quite as effective as you'd hoped, somewhat slowing your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable hard stop, only to find your shoulders and knees caught by a pair of the sturdiest arms you'd ever had the delight of reclining in.
Halsin offered you a reprimanding look.
"Didnt you hear me? I said I'd catch you."
"Ah ... well. Panic had me for a moment there."
The breadth of his chest against your side was warm, heavenly, on the verge of overwhelming. He shifted slightly, his expression turning amused when you showed no signs of wanting to get down.
"Am I to carry you back to camp then? While your delicate nerves recover?"
Amusement now foremost, you pressed a spontaneous kiss to his cheek, inhaling the scent of sunlight on grass, the fresh earthiness of meadowsweet in his hair.
Pulling away, you saw how the light dappled his skin in motley splendor, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the slightly rougher patches of skin from long exposure to sun and wind.
Tracing a finger over the line of his jaw, you wondered at how the weathering of time and the elements could carve, with such grace, the story of a life well-lived.
"Carry me? Why, yes, that would be most welcome. Of course, you could change to a ... larger form if you wanted to make things easier."
You could feel the quiver of laughter, and the suppression of it as he pretended to consider your proposal.
"Hmm. I take it you refer to the boar? I'm not so sure that you'd find a comfortable seat on my back."
"I clearly wasn't referring to the boar."
"Ah."
He nodded sagely.
"The bear, eh?"
"Nothing else but the bear."
"You're rather ... enamoured of the bear, I take it?"
"I could be persuaded to admit it."
"Well, today won't be the day I persuade you with any other form. Rather ... "
Before you had a chance to protest, he'd tossed you gently over his shoulder, one large hand coming to rest your behind. He patted you firmly.
"Now this is fairly easy."
"Halsin, please - "
"You don't want to be carried? You were quite eager a minute ago."
"Well, yes, in a position that leaves my dignity intact."
He turned slightly, allowing you to see his mischievous smile.
"Ah. Dignity. Quite like clothes. We can do without them at times, don't you think?"
Gale
"Is there something on my face?"
You glanced up teasingly, taking in his slightly flustered expression. Gale lowered the tome he had been 'absorbed' in, clearing his throat. Gods, you loved when he was visibly collecting himself. He didn't quite meet your gaze.
"No, not at all. But sometimes ... reading the countenance of someone dear to you is ... slightly more fascinating than academic pursuits."
Leaning back in your seat, you folded your arms.
"Gale. I never thought the day would come when you - "
"Please don't."
Mouth twitching in silent mirth, you take mercy on him.
"Fine. But you know, if you do want to perform a more ... thorough reading of my countenance, you're most welcome."
He set down his book with an audible thump.
"Ah. Hmm. That's very - "
"Oh, Gods below."
Standing abruptly, you leaned across the table and hoisted him toward you by the collar. The surprised huff that escaped him blew warm across your face, before you tugged him against you, lips moving firmly over his.
It doesn't take him long to find his confidence. It never does, once things have been initiated. Soon, you're the one being pulled forward across the wooden surface, sliding slightly awkwardly into his embrace.
Breaking away long enough to register that you are now practically on top of him, you glance down at the book, teetering precariously on the edge.
"Gale, it's going to fall off the - "
The breath is abruptly knocked from your lungs as he draws you even closer, disregarding your warning entirely. The scrape of his beard against your lips, your chin, your neck, is intoxicating.
"Gale, wait - "
He hums, voice suddenly pitched lower, and you're reminded immediately of rainy days, closeted in his tower, your body arched beneath the lowering curve of his.
In spite of this highly distracting thought, the fate of the book nags at your mind. If anything, Gale was certainly rubbing off on you.
"The book - "
"I've got it."
"Where?"
Pressing lightly on his shoulders you glance around. The book had indeed fallen ... into the grasp of a ghostly hand, its outline barely visible, shimmering faintly.
The corner of Gale's mouth curved.
"Right there. Just so you know, I've written a dissertation on all the potential uses of the mage hand. Would you like me to demonstrate the parts that didn't make it to publication?"
Karlach
For a woman who embodied all that was vibrant and good-natured in the world, Karlach was certainly skilled at playing you like the proverbial fiddle when she put her mind to it.
Sometimes, you wondered whether she'd been taking tips from Astarion, but the manner by which she applied her charm was far too spontaneous to have originated from any advice he could have provided.
After it had been established that you were together, she'd made a habit of turning your cheeks a decidedly duskier shade whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Just yesterday, you'd gone out to collect firewood and she'd insisted on accompanying you. She'd selected suitable trees, lopping off branches with practiced strokes, muscles bunching and coiling as she swung the huge weapon with breathtakingly effortless ease. It didn't help that you'd been caught staring and she'd shot you a cheery wink.
This woman would be the death of you.
Today, it was the wagon.
Halsin had roped in some of his contacts in the locality to trade with you on occasion. These were trusted allies of his, and could be given the location of your camp without much worry.
The road getting here was rough going, though, and by the time the wagon of goods had trundled in, the wheels were decidedly worse for wear. As a gesture of goodwill, your companions had volunteered to replace them, Karlach eagerly taking the lead.
At first, you'd put it down to her ever-present desire to be of as much use to others as she could. When, however, she'd shrugged off her tunic, limbered up as if about to jump into battle and shot you a tell-tale glance before she lifted the cart right off the ground so that Wyll could slip the wheel off and replace it, you knew you were done for.
Feet braced, the tendons of neck and arms standing out, Karlach lifted her lambent eyes to yours and shot you that easy, charming grin, the one that had all too often haunted your more ... impure thoughts.
Oh, she was in for it. Two could play at that game.
Approaching the cart, you casually made your rounds, before sauntering over to her. Karlach's grin had grown noticeably wider with your proximity.
Stopping right beside her, you kept your gaze on the wheel change while your fingers danced lightly up the inside of her elbow. The wagon lurched a little and Wyll cleared his throat in warning.
Appearing the very vision of innocence, you smiled up at her, your touch inching further in, curling around her bicep. Heat flared to life beneath your delicate exploration.
"You really are something, Karlach. No wonder lifting me is such a breeze for you."
The comment was fully loaded with intent. The last time Karlach had lifted you had been against the door of a room in an inn, and the circumstances had been ... less than chaste.
Glancing up, you saw that she was no longer smiling. She was now giving you that look, the soft, kindling, fire-bright sweetness that told you all too well that you'd better seek out some private nook, and soon.
Wyll cleared his throat.
"Karlach? The wagons tilting again."
"Eh? Oh, sorry."
Her head snapped forward and you took the opportunity to raise yourself slightly higher on your toes, pressing your lips, swift and intimate, to the corner of hers.
"See you later, soldier."
And by the Gods, did you feel her gaze scorch along your back as you strode away.
Astarion
You still had no idea why you'd agreed to this. You knew how it played out, every time, and yet, here you were, being positively demolished at game night with Astarion.
Since committing himself to you fully after Cazador's defeat, the proverbial floodgates of Astarion's long-suppressed nature had been dashed open.
He hid notes containing badly composed romantic poetry all over the camp for you to find, flung himself dramatically into your lap after a hard days grind, conspired with Scratch to hide your boots, sang loud, bawdy love songs with your name inserted when he helped with the washing up and forced you to wear matching colours when you went out into the city together.
He was lovely, your rogue who'd worn a thousand faces, but now he had regained so much more of himself. And as much as you appreciated every inch of him, he was a handful.
Especially on occasions like tonight.
You scrubbed a hand through your hair in frustration, shooting him an accusatory glance over the game board where your pieces told the sad, sad story of repeated defeat.
He examined his fingernails.
You growled.
"I told you that you weren't allowed to cheat."
"Cheating? Me?"
His artfully startled expression quickly morphed to one of mischievous glee.
"All right. Maybe I am. A little."
"Astarion."
"My dove, consider it training, of a kind."
"Training?"
"I'm exceptionally skilled at sleight of hand. If you can learn to keep up with me, then it'll take a fantastic rogue to pull one over you."
He spread his hands and leaned back in his chair, infuriatingly handsome (and smug) as ever.
"Besides, you're so pretty when you're ... frustrated. Reminds me of how you mewl when I - "
"I have never mewled. Or made any sound close to that."
"I beg to differ."
Your eyes dropped to the board, considering your next move, when something occurred to you.
Astarion had always been the one to fluster and flatter with his honeyed words in the past, none of which had been truly sincere.
Now though ...
If the kindling of his heart had showed you anything, it was that even he could be susceptible to the charms of someone he truly cared for.
You decided to put it to the test.
Drumming your fingers on the table top, you nodded slowly.
"I agree with you on one thing, at least. You are very skilled at sleight of hand."
He opened his mouth to reply, confidence in the set of his smirk, but you interrupted him.
"Similarly, I am skilled at certain things. Maybe even more so than you."
Oh, now you did have his attention. He paused and arched an eyebrow.
"Well, I won't argue with that. But ... what skills are you speaking of, exactly?"
You briefly lifted your eyes from the game board, fixing him with a penetrating stare.
"I'm a ranger by profession, a hunter through and through. Once I set my sights on a target, there's no getting away."
He was leaning forward now, intrigued.
"Hmm. I've seen that, yes."
"And even though I knew you were not all you appeared to be when we first met, I did set my sights on you."
Nonchalantly, you threw the thought out before returning to the game, offering no further elaboration. Astarion shifted in his seat slightly. You held in your smile.
Eventually, he cleared his throat.
"What do you mean by ... set your sights on me?"
You glanced up, earnestly taking him in.
"I knew you were special, I suppose. My instinct told me so. I learned your scent, as well as you knew mine. I learned your gait so that I always knew where you were, even in the dark. I noticed how you styled your hair, because it told me the kind of mood you were in that day. I studied your drinking patterns, so that I could offer you my blood before you grew truly hungry."
Astarion's eyes were widening slowly. You pretended not to notice as you continued.
"Oh yes. There were many things. Most of all, though ... "
And here you placed a hand gently under his chin, tilting his head to admire him better in the dim light of the camp lantern.
"I learned that you like your name on my tongue, in all its variations."
His voice was positively faint now.
"Variations?"
You offered him a radiant smile, one that drew on every ounce of affection you had for him.
"My sweet star. My unruly nightingale. My beautiful shadow. My bewitching blade dancer. I'll praise you in every form."
And there it was.
Maybe it was only possible due to the fact that he had fed on you a short while before, but the faintest of russet hues, delicate and fleeting, had appeared on the elegant bridge of his nose. You smiled, pressing your lips gently to the tip of it.
