The type of warm where you sit next to him and just feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s cold when the sun goes down and all you want is heat. You bundle yourself in layers and sit next to the fire as Gale chops up vegetables and roasts meat in a pot for dinner. Every now and then your knees brush together or bump elbows. The first time it happened he lets out an “Oop, apologies,” to which you hastily reply “Oh, its alright.” Really, you thought, it’s more than alright. Since then he stopped apologizing when it happens, seemingly not paying any mind to it.
You can’t help feeling you’re a bit in the way, but your tent is a chilling place- literally. He hasn’t said anything about you being next to him, and the warmth and smell of stew is a great comfort right now. His velvet pajamas seem so comfortable in the firelight. The purple fabric, the embroidered collar and cuffs, and the matching belt which seemed to pin back an excess of fabric reflected a cool hue onto his concentrated face. His gaze seemed to drift off into the flames, the fatty pork leg you found earlier sizzling.
“Smells good,” you remark, a smile quirking your occasionally shivering face.
Gale seems to be pulled from his thoughts when he looks over at you. “Yes, it’s not everyday we’re blessed with good meat. Hopefully this fills us up tonight.”
You nod, a shudder running through you. He glances you over in concern. “A bit cold?”
“You don’t feel it?”
“Ah, no. My body tends to run a bit on the warm side. Always has. Makes me a good bed for a tressym!”
You laugh, and he continues reminiscing. “Tara loved to sit on my stomach while I read in the library. Sometimes she would even have me read to her… don’t tell her I told you that though,” he barks out a laugh before murmuring, “she would be quite embarrassed.”
You think about meeting his cat- tressym. Hopefully she likes you. You think about his library in Waterdeep. Sitting on a chaise lounge with him, your back against his warm chest while he reads to you. His hands on your waist holding you close. Would you even make it that far? The sudden silence that falls between you means Gale wonders the same.
Gale clears his throat. “Well- erm. The stew still has a bit until it’s done. Hopefully that will warm you up.”
Your backs are propped against the wood log which lays behind you. He inconspicuously scoots a bit closer and opens a book which laid on the log. You try to peer over his shoulder to see what he’s reading. There’s nothing else for you to do, and you wouldn’t mind being closer. Your gaze does not go unnoticed.
Gale glances between you and the page, and you almost notice a pink hue creeping across his cheeks. No- probably just the firelight.
“Do you happen to be interested in Menzoberranzan horticulture? I find their uses of the Green Sleep fungus especially titillating.”
You’ve never heard of it before. “Sounds interesting.”
“Oh, that’s only the beginning. Would you.. would you like to read with me?” Gale extends the book further in your direction in offering, looking at you expectantly.
“Sure,” you say. Scooting closer you try to remain casual and unaffected. Your sides are touching now, his feet on the ground with the book propped open on his legs. Gods, he’s so warm. You feel as though you’re thawing just sitting next to him.
Every now and then he looks at your face, silently asking if he can flip the page. You always just nod, finding it hard to concentrate on reading. His chest rises and falls steadily, his freshly calloused fingers occasionally point out especially interesting passages, and you relax (trying not to melt) into his side. At one point you think you might start to drift off right there, your eyes half lidded.
Suddenly the air starts to smell yummier- fuller and flavored. You realize your eyes are opening to the sight of Gale checking the contents of the pot simmering on the fire.
He turns back to you, “Well, the stew is done.”
Just as you straighten up, he hands you a full bowl. A sheepish smile crawls across his face, and surprisingly he doesn’t say anything.
Just as I think Gale would be warm, I think Astarion would be chill to the touch.
Now this may seem obvious seeing as he’s a vampire, but I don’t mean icy cold. No, not the cold that if you touch it for too long it starts to burn. Not even unpleasantly cold. But chilled. Like the cool side of your pillow you’re always trying to flip to, the cool your feet keep searching your bed sheets for, and the cool night air that hits your face when you’re drunk.
You’re traveling in the hottest season, hiking miles with heavy gear no less. When it’s time to set up camp everyone looks like a sweaty, frizzled mess. Besides Astarion, of course. Backpacks thump to the ground from weary muscles and messy hair. Meanwhile, Astarion is halfway through setting up his tent, checking his nails in a most satisfied manner. Everyone is too tired to care about his silent flex of comfortability, so he becomes vocal.
Astarion watches you struggle with a collected grin, “Looking a bit hot, need someone to cool you off?”
You glare in his direction, both annoyed and attempting to hide the butterflies that appear in your stomach whenever he flirts with you. He holds half-lidded eye contact with you as he takes slow gulps of water from a corked jug. Astarion closes his eyes from the refreshment and clear droplets of water dribble from the corner of his mouth and the misaligned jug, tracing the length of his pale throat.
You can’t help but stare, your mouth somehow dry as a desert and salivating at the time time. You flip your head around pretend not to notice, although he definitely saw you. As you begin to unbuckle your bedroll Astarion holds the jug of water in front of you. As you look up at him to take it he quips, “Here, you’re clearly thirsty.”
He gives you a cheeky sideways glance, and your cheeks flush hot. Somehow hotter than before.
—
You can’t sleep. It’s just too damn hot. It doesn’t even matter you’re wearing your skimpiest camp clothes, they stick right to you. You’re tossing and turning trying to find a cool side to your bedroll. You tried touching the ground, but even the grass was warm. The only thing chill was the night air, but you needed the security of blankets. There was no right answer. You prop yourself on your elbows with a huff.
Suddenly you hear a sultry voice from a few feet behind you, “Can’t sleep?”
You turn around, startled, “How did you know?”
“Darling, I can hear you huffing and puffing and fidgeting from halfway across camp. I can barely sleep, myself, with all the racket.”
You plop back down and close your eyes with a defeated, “hmph.”
Suddenly you feel the back of a cool, cool hand on your damp forehead.
Relief. For the first time tonight you feel relief from the heat.
Astarion keeps his hand there for a few seconds more upon hearing your sigh of contentment. He pulls his hand away, “Oh dear, aren’t you just burning up?”
You glare at him. Did he disturb you just to rub it in? “Well it must be nice to be cold all the time.”
His wide eyes flicker solemnly for a moment.
“It isn’t,” he replies softly.
His eyes return to their cat-like slyness in an instant. “However, it’s better than being all sweaty and sticky like the rest of you.”
A beat of silence settles between you. The air is slightly thinner. Astarion’s eyes fall into the distance for a moment, before settling on your face again. You’re starting to wonder why he’s here, and you’re missing his cold hand on your forehead. For a moment, pride (or shyness) overcomes you and you don’t say anything. But the thought of the rest of the night spent tossing and turning makes you speak up.
“Would you… put your hand on my forehead again?”
Astarion’s lips curve upwards, and he breaks into a laugh. He isn’t used to innocent requests.
“How sweet… Sure, I’ll rest my hand on your head. No funny business.”
A smile rests on your face as he lays down next to you. Closing your eyes, you feel his cool fingertips raking through your salty hair. He rests the back of his chilled hand against your burning hot forehead, then your cheek. You feel your heart swell and your breathing slowing. He presses the back of his hand to the side and back of your neck. His breath irregularly puffs on the crown of your head. Between your closeness and your dwindling consciousness, it occurs to you that vampires don’t need to breathe.
Huh.
Sleep is dragging you down one breath at a time. Just as you slip into the unconscious you feel a light, cold pressure around your hand. Finally, you can rest.
Oh, I just read yours the other night on AO3, great job! Could I possibly get Gal and a female elven sorcerer Tav post-game the night they arrive home to his tower? NSFW/SFW, your choice. I just love post-game interactions for the good endings. :)
Fun fact: I play BG3 on Xbox and I started on my old Microsoft account. For some reason, I got logged out/ got “hacked?” and had to delete my account with 200+ hours… I was at the Netherbrain guys!!! So I haven’t finished the game yet but I also love domestic post-game fics. My Bard R! Durge, Vivienne, (who I have posted on here) is my current run to the finish. In act 3 once again! Anyway, here ya go. It’s like half headcanon half fiction.
It is still a shock to both of your systems that you’re actually alive. You have defeated the netherbrain against all odds- the old-fashioned way. With swords, spells, and sweat.
First, we all know Gale’s need to impress you. I imagine him trying to plan a seamless moving day- maybe casting a protective spell over your furniture/ items while they’re being moved into his tower. I can also see him fretting about his various delicate magical artifacts, which the movers seem to disregard! Much to his surprise, might he add, since his mother had suggested this company! Although he likely skips the movers altogether and has his simulacrums move you two in. Some jobs are better done yourself.
While his simulacrums bring in your boxes/chests of your belongings, they don’t unpack them. He respects your privacy and knows you may be particular about your things.
I can see things happening quickly after his proposal. The day you move in may be the same day you see his tower (haha) in person for the first time- your new home.
You can’t help but be overwhelmed by a feeling similar to deja vu. It’s surreal and sort of familiar. You’ve technically been here before. Gale brought you here through the weave while on the road, and you seem magnetically drawn to the balcony. You remember sitting on this very balcony in the weave. Waterdeep’s ocean glitters before you, and you get lost staring into the soothing waves.
Gale puts his head on the top of yours. His hands rest on the railing on either side of you. He buries his nose in your hair and pulls you close to him from behind. It’s finally happening. It’s finally real. The peace you feel in this moment- hopeful, content, and unbelieving- it’s what makes your journey worth it.
Turning around in his embrace, you hug him too tight and he makes a groan of strain and laughter. His classic old man noises. You could get used to those.
Taking his face in your hands, you see joy brimming in his eyes. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. Gale Dekarios- the wizard of intentionally limited renown is all yours for years to come.
He will likely insist unpacking can wait, it’s your first night together in your new home.
I have no doubt he will take you on a tour of the place, including special spaces he has saved for you/ your interests. You like to craft/crochet/sew? He has a craft room set up. What is his is yours. He knows you will handle his artifacts with care and if you are a sorcerer he will encourage you to bring yours and combine your collection. He has a section of his library saved for whatever literature you might want to add, and a section of what he recommends for you specifically- available for you to pick up at any time.
Overenthusiastic is an understatement. But he tries to play it lighthearted to not overwhelm you.
You cook dinner together in your new kitchen. You kiss in your new kitchen. He’s not a good dancer but is so overjoyed by you being here with him that he brings you close to sway.
When it’s time for bed you notice he ordered a second nightstand for your side of the bed. In the drawer is something special and thoughtful, whether it's a chocolate you like or a book. Maybe it’s a solvent for some ailment that has been bothering you. He will remind you to put it on every night.
I can see the night being with or without sex. I can picture him lying in bed and staring into your eyes, just treasuring your presence in his bed. There will be a thousand nights in the future for sex. Although, I can see the night needing a physical commemoration as well! It all depends on what your vibe is.
When you wake, you have tender good mornings with sleepy, rasping voices. He pulls you close, onto his chest as he praises the rest of your days together. He cooks you breakfast, and you two spend the rest of your second day unpacking your belongings and creating your shared home.
NSFW BELOW THE CUT
Pure passion and savoring each other. The sex is emotional and slow.
Tonight marks the rest of your lives coexisting and living together. You’re having milestone sex. This is no quickie. This is body worship, treasuring each other’s lives, and pure love and devotion.
You kiss until your lips feel plump, your tongues tangle until you’re wet. Only when you’re squirming does he move south.
Gale uses every kiss as a landmark. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, down your neck- his hands are grasping and caressing anywhere he can reach.
His hold on you is strong. Hands grip your waist as he devours you. He doesn’t want it to end. He teases you until you beg for release, and once you orgasm you can’t stop. He doesn’t let you get away with less than 3 before the night ends.
When he fucks you it's languid and deep. His hard cock drags against your walls in a pull so delicious it's torture. Slow tenderness eventually turns to rapid passion as he gives in to his desires.
You two are moaning and crying out into the night air as he pounds into you. Your grip on him is tight as your mouths and hips move in synch.
You wake up with little marks over your chest, although you never remember him being rough.
Chapters: 1/3
Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Reader, Gale & Tav (Baldur's Gate), Gale/Tav (Baldur's Gate)
Additional Tags: Mystra Being an Asshole (Dungeons & Dragons), Eventual Smut, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, based on phantom of the opera, sounds crazy just try it
Summary:
Gale is Christine Mystra is The Phantom and Tav is Raoul basically. Starts right before the weave scene and follows along the major events in Gale's story.
Snippet:
Gale raises his open palm in invitation. "Would you like to experience this?"
Wordlessly, you took his hand, and the gentle scent of rosewater filled your senses. Magenta light began to tornado around you, and wind whipped Gale's robes and hair in all directions. The two of you were in the eye of the storm. Powerful and dangerous electricity surrounds you. This is safety. This is warmth.
Gale closes his eyes and through your connection you can hear his thoughts,
Goddess of Magic, guide and guardian, bring to me your glory. Goddess of Magic, hide no longer, o sacred, strange, and mighty.
It felt like a kind touch, a shared connection. You were in control of the Weave. Gale shouted victoriously, "That's it! You're doing it! You're channeling the Weave!"
Then you sense it- sense her. Mystra is here. She calls to you softly from within yourself and your surroundings. You are and are within the weave, all consuming and all encompassing. She is the unseen genius behind all magic.
Although Vivienne is in a throuple with Astarion and Halsin, Astarion is her main man. Halsin is more of a close friend who both Vivienne and Astarion have casual flings with together and separately.
