Like Real People Do, Chapter 9.5

Like Real People Do, Chapter 9.5

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav x Astarion Ancunín

Chapter Synopsis: Astarion has a nice, simple plan and Seraphina's kindness is introducing an unexpected complication.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Four and a Half. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine.

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: We're so back. Took a little break and I'm back to yapping about these 3 idiots. Here's a chapter from Astarion's POV.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Nine and a Half: Carry Me Slowly, My Sunlight

Astarion’s chest ached.

But he hadn’t been injured. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Even though he had no need to breathe anymore.

He laid on his side staring at the source of his pain. She was asleep next to him. He watched as her chest, covered in devilish ridges and his own bite marks, gently rose and fell. His eyes followed up to her slender neck, the left side covered in a deep red tattoo of a rose with a new scar from the assassination attempt stretching over the art. He felt a surge of anger and pride as he remembered ending the life of two of the assassins sent to kill her.

Her sharp jawline, her plump and thick lips that were always painted a deep crimson, her wide nose, her sharp cheekbones, the freckles that scattered across her red skin like stars, the scar that stretched from under her right eye to the bridge of her nose and the other barely visible scar on her lower lip, and the jewelry that carefully decorated her eyebrow, nose, and pointed ears. 

Astarion’s eyes followed the curve of her horns, ending in points that he dodged easily when he bent down to bite or kiss her neck because, at this point, he knew her body and could navigate it with his eyes closed. The silky-smooth texture of her thick black and red hair was familiar to Astarion. He loved tangling his fingers in it, whether it was while pressing her lips against his in a bloody kiss after feeding from her, while Seraphina took his hard length into her mouth, or as he was thrusting into her. As he took in her form, Astarion felt the sharp pang of that ache in his chest again. Looking at her felt like looking into the sun – bright, gorgeous, overwhelming, and yet he still wanted to bask in her glow.

Seraphina was a beautiful, painful, all-too-kind problem.

When he saw her the first time, he was trapped in a pod on the nautiloid ship and had only seen the back of her head. When he saw her for the second time, walking through the ship wreckage with a half-elf and a human in tow, he faked being in danger and she actually fell for it. When he drew a dagger on her to try and get answers out of her about what she and the mind flayers had done to him, she didn’t turn to anger.

“Whoa! No need to pull out any knives!” The tiefling said with a laugh, as if having a dagger pressed to her throat was a regular occurrence for her.

“If you use that dagger, I will have to incinerate you,” said the human she had walked over with.

“And risk burning your friend? I doubt it,” Astarion hissed. In that moment as he turned to speak to the man, the tiefling rolled away from him. 

“Put the knife away and maybe we can help each other,” the tiefling said, holding up her hands as if she was trying to calm a wild animal.

She was surprisingly patient and forgiving. She even asked him to join the ragtag group of survivors that she was collecting like coins. Astarion wasn’t special on that front – moments later Seraphina accepted a hostile gith into their ranks. Seraphina had a naïve optimism to her that made her all too trusting which Astarion considered could be quite useful aspects of her personality.

It was only days later that Astarion realized he needed to be special to Seraphina for the sake of his survival. When hunger came to him, along with the desire to see if he could disobey Cazador’s rules, Astarion crept over to Seraphina’s tent to feed. When she woke up, she wasn’t mad or fearful. A bit annoyed on account of him attempting to bite without her permission, but surprisingly understanding.

“I’ve kept much more dangerous company,” she said with a shrug.

Astarion chose not to question her on that. How was it possible for him to care about that when Seraphina was now lying back down and presenting her beautiful neck to him? When he bit her, his senses were flooded. Her saccharine scent of vanilla and an undercurrent of citrus. The taste of her blood was intoxicating. Cazador kept him from this? Seraphina’s blood tasted sweeter than any wine, filled with the sharp, fiery tang of her magic. Astarion let her blood coat his tongue like honey, and he would’ve gulped until she was drained dry until she stopped him.

All it took was one drop of Seraphina’s lifeblood to make Astarion nearly feral for her. He had to force himself to focus on the words she said when she stood next to him, her scent drawing him closer. He knew right away when she had been injured in battle and, in a flash, he was by her side. There was the instance when, while wandering near an abandoned crypt, raiders attacked their party. They were swiftly dealt with, mostly because Astarion could smell Seraphina’s delicious blood from across the courtyard. His eyes focused in on the slash that ran across her forearm as he walked over to her.

“Nice work,” Seraphina panted to him as she dug through the pockets of one of the bodies.

“I’d say the same to you, but you’ve had a bit of a spill, darling,” Astarion helped her to her feet and grabbed her arm. “I hope you won’t mind my distaste for waste.”

Seraphina opened her mouth to reply and quickly shut it as Astarion lifted her arm to his lips and licked the wound, groaning in satisfaction at the incredibly tantalizing taste of her. He watched her eyes widen and, in her blood, he could taste it – Seraphina’s arousal. And that was when the idea came to him. There were a few things that were quite certain. She was the leader of their group, chose who joined or stayed, and spoke for them as they navigated this disgusting wilderness. She was foolish and went out of her way to help others, including willingly offering her blood to him. And she was attracted to him, or at least the idea of him as a vampire. 

Seducing Seraphina would be easy. As Astarion mulled over his plan, a memory of a specific night, buried within his memories of thousands of other nights, came to the front of his mind. This little adventure wasn’t his first time seeing Seraphina. He had seen her before – dozens of times possibly – in the bars and taverns of Baldur’s Gate. He had nearly approached her quite a few times, but she was never alone. She was always in a huge group, someone handsome or beautiful with an arm around her shoulders or a hand attached to her hip. 

“Have you always kept your hair short, Seraphina?” Astarion asked.

“No. I actually used to let it grow pretty long. Ugh, a few years ago I had these horrible bangs for a while. I can’t believe anyone let me walk around like that,” Seraphina laughed. He remembered those bangs.

It had to have been nearly three years ago. There was the one time when she had separated from the rest of her group, no one hanging off her, in the Blushing Mermaid. She sauntered over to the bar, her raven black hair bouncing against the middle of her back, the sway of her hips drawing the stare of several others. He wasn’t going to let a pretty thing like her be taken home by anyone else in here, especially not Petras. Astarion cleared his throat and approached the bar. She was trying to catch the attention of the bartender, but she was short and couldn’t be seen behind the crowd.

“I hope you aren’t paying for your own drinks tonight,” he said, sliding in next to her. The tiefling turned and looked up at him. She looked open and curious at first, but with an eyebrow raise and a smirk, she immediately became flirtatious.

“I have been so far unless someone plans on changing that,” she replied. 

“How does a bottle of Fire Wine sound?”

“Hmm…I’d prefer a Suzailian Sweet,” she noted. Astarion hummed in agreement.

“Exquisite taste, my dear,” Astarion smiled as he pushed his way towards the bar. He reached his hand out for her and, as she took it, he pulled her through the crowd and close to him. He placed his gold on the counter and waited.

“Is this home for you or are you just passing through and enjoying the city’s bustling nightlife?”

“You have to ask if Baldur’s Gate is my home? Gods, my accent really must be changing,” she laughed.

Astarion pushed the coin over to the bartender and requested the Suzailian.

“What is your name, dear?” he asked, turning back to her with his well-rehearsed seductive expression.

“Maybe I’ll tell you after we finish this bottle,” she said.

“That bottle better get here quickly then,” Astarion took her hand again and he kept her gaze as he kissed the back of her hand, the contact lasting just a second too long. “Well met, stranger.”

The bottle arrived and Astarion picked it up along with two goblets.

“Grab my arm, darling. Don’t want you getting lost in this crowd,” Astarion whispered. The tiefling bit her lip and gently grabbed the crook of Astarion’s arm. He led them away from the main rooms and over to one of the smaller, less crowded rooms of the tavern. The less witnesses, the better. 

Astarion didn’t expect to spend longer than an hour seducing the tiefling. He would do the basic pleasantries, eventually pivoting to overt flirtation as he and his target drank a bottle of wine, before following through on getting them to follow him to their death in Szarr Palace. However, this woman wasn’t following the script.

The bottle was now empty, and the woman took the last sip of her goblet. Astarion’s eyes fell to the drops of wine that lingered on her plush red lips. He stood and walked over to her chair, slotting himself between her legs. 

“May I have a taste?” he murmured. She nodded. 

Astarion lifted her chin, and he gingerly licked her bottom lip before kissing her. She sighed and his tongue entered, licking and stroking, tasting all the wine they had shared. Her hands gripped his shoulders as Astarion’s hands fell to her hips, squeezing the thick flesh. He pulled her closer, making her release an adorable squeak into his mouth as their hips met. 

She pulled away with a gasp.

“Surely you don’t want to just stay here all night. I’m going to a party later and I can’t think of better company,” he purred, one of his hands moving to stroke her thigh.

“Mhmm. And what about after the party?”

“We can indulge in each other ‘til the sun rises,” Astarion smirked. He heard her heart skip a beat and she gasped as he dipped his head to her neck, his lips gliding up her neck. She smelled delicious, this beautiful forbidden fruit.

A halfling turned the corner and marched into the room.

“Seraphina! You have got to stop running off like that. We’re heading out,” she said. The woman, Seraphina, nodded at the halfling, who gave Astarion a quick, analytical look before walking away.

Seraphina turned to Astarion and shrugged. 

“I wish I could, but duty calls,” she smiled. “Sorry she spoiled the fun of my name reveal.” She stood from her chair, slipping away from him. 

Astarion quickly grabbed her hand. 

“Come on now. What could be more exciting than drinking and dancing the night away at a castle?”

Astarion could see it in her bright amber eyes. He saw that glimmer in the eyes of everyone he brought back – the allure of partying with high society, free flowing food and wine. It was usually when that glint appeared that he knew he had been successful for the night. And then it was gone.

“You could always join me. I think my night may be a bit more interesting,” she replied.

“And what will your night include?”

She gave him a dazzling grin and he could hear her heart begin to beat faster as she replied.

“Adventure.”

Astarion couldn’t hide the sneer that crossed his face and the tiefling frowned.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Have a fun night, stranger.”

Then she was gone. Astarion cursed under his breath. He took a shy half-elven boy back to Cazador’s palace instead. If Seraphina had any memory of that night, she didn’t mention it. If anything, she seemed to not remember him at all. But he had nearly seduced her once and he was determined to do it again. This time, it wasn’t for Cazador. It was for him and his safety.

Astarion decided to start planting the seeds when he could get Seraphina alone. The night that Astarion was determined to approach her, the wizard took up most of her time. He watched from the shadows as they sparred, patiently waiting for their awkward flirtation to end for the night. Gale was obviously taken with the tiefling, though he didn’t have the guts to follow through on bedding her, but Seraphina also seemed interested, which was a minor complication, but Astarion could work with it. The wizard made himself absent and Astarion pounced.

As expected, it took little work on his part. Seraphina melted under his flirtation and attention. He followed his usual scripts and waded through his revulsion when he led her into that clearing to sleep with her. All Astarion needed to do now was ensure he remained a priority over the rest of their party members – something that was easier said than done. Seraphina searched for infernal iron for Karlach, comforted Wyll as he adjusted to his new devilish appearance, tried to decipher and make peace with Shadowheart, learned as much as she could about githyanki culture to better connect with Lae’zel, and, most annoyingly, desperately scouted for magical items for Gale.

Seraphina’s growing bond with Gale was becoming bothersome. Today, Astarion struggled to hide his irritation as, while they infiltrated the goblin camp, the wizard and the sorcerer couldn’t seem to shut up.

Astarion stuck his tools into the lock of the metal door, and he groaned as he heard Seraphina giggle at something Gale shouted up to her from the floor below. 

“Sera, darling,” Astarion said over his shoulder. “A bit of guidance from Lady Luck, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh. Of course,” Seraphina stepped closer and waved two fingers over Astarion. “May Tymora’s luck twist your way.”

A blue aura surrounded Astarion as he picked the lock with a quiet click. He opened the door and approached the treasure chests before Seraphina suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Ah, ah. You know the rules,” she narrowed her eyes with a smirk and pointed her finger at Astarion.

“Darling, I opened the door for us. Surely, I get to pick what I want from the treasures that I gave us access to,” Astarion pouted and slightly tilted his head down to flutter his lashes at her. Seraphina’s lips twisted as she tried to hide her smile.

“Fine, but you need to bring me anything magical, in case it’s something that Gale can use.”

Astarion scoffed.

“We’re sacrificing perfectly good equipment for him,” he sniffed, opening a chest and pocketing a pouch of gold. “I don’t see any benefit to it.”

“I sacrifice my blood for you,” Seraphina replied. “What benefit does that have?”

Astarion stiffened before he relaxed and turned on the charm. He walked to Seraphina and lowered his lips to her ear.

“Keep me around and I will make every minute of bloodlessness worth your while,” he whispered.

As quickly as she fell for his advances, Seraphina also pushed back in unexpected ways. After she read the infernal scars on his back, it made sense to sleep with her again. She had given him something, so naturally Astarion owed her something. But she refused to bite.

“We both know you want something, so let me give it to you. Now, shall we go somewhere more private than this beach?”

“Maybe I just wanted to talk to you.”

Astarion laughed right away. The concept was so silly to him. He pressed another kiss to her neck before he lifted his head to look at her and the sincerity in Seraphina’s gaze made his skin crawl.

“You would rather talk?” he asked. His smile wilted. “Do you need to be enticed out to that clearing with me, darling? Surely, I haven’t fallen out of your favor.”

“No, you haven’t.” Seraphina replied as she gently played with his hair, her fingers leaving a trail of warmth everywhere she touched. It felt…nice. Pulling away from her and spending hours simply talking about pieces of their past, the books they enjoyed, and humorous hypotheticals all felt just as nice as it did foreign and unsettling. 

At some point, Seraphina simply stared up at the disappearing stars. As the night began to turn to dusk, the thought wandered into Astarion’s mind that he should mention they’ve met before. But that was risky. She would poke and prod, curious thing that she was, asking questions that he didn’t want to answer, and his responses could spoil his entire plan. 

Astarion was committed to his plan. That’s what he told himself when panic made his limbs move faster than his brain as he carried Seraphina’s burnt, limp body to Withers after their confrontation with the githyanki. He needed his protector alive. That’s all it was. He also needed her powerful which meant he had to ensure that Gale’s preposterous talk about ending her trial didn’t actually change Seraphina’s mind.

“Why would you ever turn down the opportunity to have such incredible power at your command? Don’t listen to him,” Astarion scoffed. “He’s already experienced what it’s like to be a Chosen. He shouldn’t keep that from you, but what else can be expected of a wizard?”

It was power that could be incredibly beneficial to Astarion. Having the Chosen of the goddess of luck and good fortune on his side almost sounded too good to be true. He wasn’t about to let the wizard squander that for him. 

But then the Black Fingers attacked. Seraphina hardly left Gale’s side in the days after. She was so focused on Gale that she hardly reacted when Lae’zel returned, having tracked them down after she failed to find the creche. She greeted the gith, told her to set up her things and they could pretend as if nothing happened, and she returned to Gale’s tent without another word.

Her odd behavior extended past Seraphina’s new protectiveness over Gale. Something was clearly wrong with Seraphina. Whatever it was, it was making her reckless and uncoordinated. Astarion had started going out of his way to keep her alive. He couldn’t afford to lose the person meant to protect him. That was how he justified the fear that gripped his heart whenever he saw a blow coming straight for the sorcerer.

Astarion didn’t know what it was yet, but things started making sense when they were in Grymforge. Among the lava, Seraphina shook like a leaf. Her eyes were as big and wide as a shield. She stumbled over her words and seemed terrified, as if she expected a being to emerge from the depths.

Astarion watched as Gale grabbed Seraphina’s hand and pulled her away from the rest of the party. He placed his hands on her shoulders and whatever words they exchanged seemed to calm her nerves. Astarion wasn’t fond of that development. Before the events of the last few days and Gale’s near-death experience, he had thought that Gale had securely been knocked off as a potential threat to his standing within Seraphina’s eyes, but the wizard’s monologues appeared to be keeping their leader in one piece, which was more than Astarion was capable of.

So he let his mind wander to put together the pieces. Lava and fire appeared to trigger these freezes of hers. She utilized her magic sparingly, leaning on a quarterstaff and cantrips. Seraphina had been burned alive after her wild magic surge when they were fighting the githyanki. She didn’t talk about her life in the tendays and months before the nautiloid. Most of her recollections were from at least a year ago. 

Hmm. Seraphina was particularly fierce about ensuring the safety of the tiefling refugees in the Grove. She always seemed to shut down when Karlach spoke of her time in Avernus. It felt like Astarion had all the pieces almost perfectly aligned, but he needed Seraphina to push them into place.

That night, Astarion sought her out. Seraphina kneeled on the outskirts of camp in the middle of a small enclave. She was lit up by the glow of the native mushrooms, casting her back in purple, green, and yellow light. As he kneeled next to her, he saw that her eyes were closed. Her hands were clasped and Astarion knew she was clutching her Tymoran coin. Being able to see her face in the strange light, he was taken aback by how stunning she was. But he wanted answers and he didn’t need to be distracted.

He didn’t waste time.

“When we were all on that mind flayer ship, it went into Avernus,” Astarion said. “That wasn’t your first time there, was it?”

A beat.

She slowly opened her eyes, but her gaze remained straight, gazing out into the darkness.

“No,” Seraphina replied.

“When was the first time?” he asked.

She breathed in slowly through her nose and she slightly parted her lips to exhale.

“Not too long before I met you.”

“What happened?”

Seraphina laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was hollow and bitter. Completely unlike her. It unsettled Astarion.

“I was doing one of my – what do you call them? – hero acts,” she said.

“Yes, you find it impossible to resist those.”

“No. I can’t. I had plenty of chances to go home. Or start a new life entirely. I didn’t. I didn’t and then it was too late to turn around.”

Astarion looked down and saw that her hands were clutched around her coin so tightly that she was slightly shaking. Astarion lifted his hand and placed it over hers, squeezing. It happened so quickly that he surprised himself, but it felt…necessary to comfort her.

Once again, his mind ruminated over all his memories that he’d made with her in the last few tendays. Were there any other hints? What was she doing in Avernus? 

Seraphina turned her head and, as her eyes met his, Astarion felt as if the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Can I show you something?” she asked.

Astarion nodded. He felt her tadpole open up to him. He accepted.

And then he saw it. Seraphina was on horseback, traveling with a rather odd-looking group of adventurers and a few children. They were approaching a large city. The sun was shining brightly. No…there were two suns. Seraphina had laughed at something when, suddenly, one of the beautiful, golden suns turned an inescapable, terrifying black. It became a void.

Astarion could feel the way that the hairs on Seraphina’s neck stood up in the moment, how her tail stiffened, and her heart raced. Then, the beautiful city that the void was now suspended over, began to lift. The entire city, ripped straight from the ground. A shiver of cold dread went down Astarion’s spine as the town was yanked into the void, disappearing.

Astarion blinked and he was back in front of Seraphina.

“You saw Elturel get dragged to the hells,” Astarion said breathlessly. It was dumb to state the obvious, but he was aghast.

“Yes,” Seraphina said. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes glazed over, as if she was recalling more memories. “And I helped bring it back to the Material Plane with those people you saw. It…it was the scariest experience of my life. I shouldn’t have survived any of it. I thought that would be enough for Tymora to end my trial. It wasn’t.”

Astarion stayed quiet.

“I went home for a little while afterwards, but it felt odd being back in the city after everything. So I took another job. I can’t even remember what it was now, but all I know is that it put me back on the road, back in chaos again. I was in Yartar for that contract when the nautiloid grabbed me.”

Seraphina ceased clutching her coin and let it rest in the palm of her hand, staring at it. Her face twisted in frustration and sadness before she pocketed it with one hand, her other one holding Astarion’s.

“Even now, after all this, nothing I’ve done, nothing that I’ve risked or lost has been enough for Tymora,” she continued. “It seems she would like to see I and the people around me dead before she is satisfied.”

“You know, why rely on that power when there’s a cult right within our grasp?” Astarion asked. “Don’t limit yourself to what Tymora offers you.”

Seraphina laughed again, warmth returning to her voice.

“I’ll take control of a cult the same day that you stop enjoying murder,” she teased.

“We can’t bring the world to heel without a little killing, my sweet,” Astarion countered. “And don’t pretend as if you don’t enjoy it. I see that giddy look you get in your eyes when you know a situation is about to turn hostile.”

Seraphina smirked and turned her head to try to hide it only for Astarion to gently grab her chin and turn her to look back at him.

“My little hero. Determined to save everyone except for herself,” he mused, leaning in closer to her. “Champions like yourself deserve something every once in a while, no?”  

When Astarion led her to his tent, he kissed Seraphina until she was breathless. She pulled away, giggling, and Astarion couldn’t help his smile as he pressed his lips to her neck. Admittedly, he had started to enjoy that element of his plan – kissing her. There was something about the way that she smiled into almost every kiss. How soft her touch was as she caressed his cheek or carded her fingers through his hair. But he had to offer her more than kissing to keep her allyship.

As she moaned and writhed beneath him, she held his gaze, their breaths nearly in sync while he rocked into her. Seraphina’s orange eyes were lust-blown, pleading, and affectionate, and then playful as she giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. And he smiled, happy, as he captured her lips with his, and then he suddenly felt horrible. Astarion pulled away and dipped his face to her neck. The typical disgust from using his body like this was to be expected, but this feeling was different. 

That feeling sat inside him as she came undone beneath him, crying his name, and afterwards as they laid next to each other. She sweetly blinked up at him and asked if he was hungry. He relished in the sweetness of her blood and her character, her generosity, and her accepting nature. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved better than this ruse.

Seraphina was a beautiful, painful, all-too-kind problem.

Astarion caught himself staring at her again as their party stood in the dark, rumbling elevator that was taking them to the Shadow-cursed Lands. She must’ve felt his eyes on her because she turned. She smiled at him and Astarion once again felt like he was staring into the blinding light of the sun. He was almost thankful that she went back to talking to Gale immediately after, but almost just as quickly Astarion wanted to shove Gale out of the way so that he had her attention instead.

This was stupid and reckless. He could feel his plan crumbling as he fretted to try and hold it together, but it was all falling apart, slipping through his fingers like sand. The dread had to go away. It would go away. The guilt would go away. These…feelings would go away.

Surely.

In dire need of a Tav x Astarion fic from the POV of a Gale that’s desperately in love with Tav and doesn’t trust Astarion, but slowly sees how their relationship unfolds.

I need something angsty, something that’s going to hurt my heart, but also so comforting to see Astarion and Tav’s relationship from an outside perspective 😩

So called NightSong

had to do a Aylin since I did Isobel! she is my beloved.

photo reference: "Flora" by Max Nonnenbruch. Inspired by muffinpoop1's work

dessert before dinner ♡ gale dekarios x f!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors DNI or i will call the cops and also ur mom

word count - 4.3k

description - domestic life with you has turned gale into a big softie, in more ways than one-- he's already got the dad bod, why wait for the baby to match?

aka dad bod malewife gale wants to knock u up :3

tags/warnings - dad bod gale w mild self esteem issues at the beginning but he gets over it, technically bg3 spoilers ig (takes place post-game), food mentions, praise, p in v, creampie, breeding kink but fluffy cus gale is sappy, inappropriate use of the Weave, inappropriate use of mage hand

a/n - this piece was commissioned by my LOVELY LOVELY SWEET BABY ANGEL @d10nyx WHO DESERVES EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD AND MORE AND IS SUCH A FUCKIN SAINT FOR BEING SO PATIENT FOR THIS ;n; pls go check out her work i adore her so bad

also just as a note b4 i get One Billion Asks about it for posting this-- i am not abandoning 'something permanent' nor am i abandoning writing for resident evil just bc i am posting one singular bg3 fic !!!!!!!!!! might seem obvious but i just wanted to get ahead of it bc i'm paranoid and have seen it happen to other ppl ;~;

my masterlist ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Life post-Netherbrain softened Gale Dekarios in many ways. 

Some of the most obvious ways included the relief of tension that came with no longer bearing the weight of the world on his back, ridding himself of the curse that plagued so many of his living years, and finally being able to settle down back home in Waterdeep. 

But if you asked Gale, the one thing that softened him the most was you. You, you, you. Ever since the moment you tugged him out of that collapsing portal, everything Gale did was for you, and by the looks of it, that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. 

Stability was something Gale hadn’t had in a long time, and while he wouldn’t exactly call running around Faerun fighting deities and monsters and people alike ‘stability,’ he could at the very least find that stability in you. Every battle, every brutal journey through the swamp or the Astral Plane or the wreckage of Baldur’s Gate, you were right there with him. 

And now you were home. 

Home had long since become anywhere with you, of course, but now you were really home, back in Waterdeep with Gale and his family and his beloved Tara, and what’s more, you had his last name. You were truly his and he was truly yours, in every possible sense. With his days spent teaching the art of illusion magic to the next generation of hopeful mages and his evenings spent returning home to his precious wife, Gale wasn’t sure it would be scientifically possible for him to be any happier, let alone any more fortunate. 

Gale was in the kitchen preparing dinner when you returned home, having spent the afternoon handling a few errands and wandering about the city. It always came as a delight for him to see you exploring his hometown in the same ways he did growing up, discovering all the neat little oddities and secrets that lay beneath the unassuming surface. 

He turned over his shoulder to face you at the sound of the door creaking open and then clicking shut, a smitten grin tugging at his face already. The sight of his beloved would never cease to fluster him, after all. 

“There she is,” Your handsome wizard greeted warmly, “The lovely and– might I say, stunningly beautiful– Princess of Waterdeep.” 

Just like that, you were blushing too, approaching to wrap your arms around him at the waist from behind, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder, affectionately roaming every inch of him you could get your hands on with a gentle touch. 

Yes, life post-Netherbrain softened Gale Dekarios in many ways, and his figure was no exception.

It was no secret Gale had an appreciation for the little indulgences in life, like rich wine and too many sweets, alarm clocks shut off when they really shouldn’t be, cozy bedding and plush furniture and hearty ‘marry me’ dinners. But, luxuries like that were rather few and far between when the two of you were on the road, and long days of traveling by foot and fighting to survive made for great exercise at the time. 

Suffice it to say, having a stable home and living without being under the constant threat of death meant you weren’t quite as active as you used to be. With time, his cheeks filled out a little more, and his clothes became a bit snug as lean muscle gave way to plush flesh. His skin glowed. He looked relaxed and nourished, he looked healthy, and you couldn’t get enough of him if you tried. 

Your wandering hands did make him a little timid in the moment, however– he hadn’t put on a concerning amount of extra padding by any means, but still, this new look was taking some getting used to. 

“Quite alright, my love?” Gale asked with a soft laugh as your hands came to rest at his hips, your kisses trailing up the side of his neck. His skin was glowing warm beneath your attention. 

“Mhm,” You hummed innocently, nodding, your hands sliding forward to feel along the delicate roundness of his belly through his shirt. “I just missed you today, dearest, and you look so delightful. I have half a mind to talk you into dessert before dinner, hm?” 

Your beloved husband was well and truly burning up now, stuttering over whatever he had going on the stove and very much considering abandoning it in favor of bending you over the countertop, but something made him hesitate. 

With a bashful laugh, as though he were trying to play it off, Gale replied, “Right, well, I suppose I could use the exercise.” 

Your brows furrowed with confusion and you glanced up at him over his shoulder, trying to read his expression. He said that so casually, like he didn’t think anything of it, and it broke your heart a little bit. 

“For all it may be worth, I think you look divine,” You said, face straight and meaning every word of it. Even if Gale was trying to laugh it off, it wasn’t a joke to you. Quietly, you added, “I would argue a bit of fluff suits you well, my darling.” 

Thankfully Gale tended to be rather easily convinced by you. 

His posture relaxed a little bit, and now the laugh that puffed out from between his lips was noticeably more genuine. “Perhaps it’s about time we put ‘a bit of fluff’ on you. I fear my mother will lose her head soon if I don’t.” 

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes with playful curiosity. “Your mother? And what concern is that of hers, hm?”

“Only the same concern of every mother, dearest,” He grinned as though it were obvious, “Grandbabies.” 

This response of his gave you pause. Gale’s mother hadn’t exactly been quiet about her desire for grandchildren since the day you met her, but she’d never gone too far, never pestered you to the point of being uncomfortable, and never made it out to be particularly urgent– you wondered if perhaps she’d been less patient on the topic with Gale. 

Your pause had a lot less to do with the pressure to please his mother and a lot more to do with the undeniable fact that the thought of Gale fucking a baby into you made your knees go weak. You weren’t even sure you were breathing for a moment, until it occurred to you that you’d been quiet for too long and any further hesitation to respond could be taken the wrong way. 

Clearing your throat softly, you continued the playful banter, “I think my earlier suggestion stands to remedy that concern as well, no? Dessert before dinner?” 

What you didn’t know was that Gale had been thinking about this a lot more often than he was letting on. Sure, the pestering of his baby-crazy relatives was one factor, but more than anything, the safety and security he’d felt in the year since you’d married had him throwing himself into the romantics of domesticity with abandon. When you first met, he never imagined such a future would be possible for him. The chaos and uncertainty that came along with defeating the Absolute brought death far closer than most people would see the other side of, and yet you made it. 

Against all odds, hand-in-hand, you still made it. And every night since your wedding, as you tucked into bed alongside one another, he dreamt of you glowing with the radiance of motherhood. He didn’t want to pressure you– after everything that had happened, it felt like a lot to ask of you to also bear his child, like that might be pushing his luck… though you had all but just confirmed your interest with that last remark, and that didn’t make it past him. 

Gale turned off the stove so as not to burn the masterpiece he’d been cooking before turning around to face you, his broad hands coming up to cradle your face. The look he gave you was intensely romantic and almost vulnerable, his eyes gazing deep down into your own as he asked, “My darling, do you know how long I’ve yearned to make you a mother?” 

Your heart was hammering now, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you found yourself unable to break eye contact, not that you wanted to anyway. Bashfully, your hands came to rest upon his soft shoulders, feeling his own heart pulsing away in his chest, his cheeks going rosy with the same warmth. There was always a certain synchronicity between you and Gale. 

Voice lowering to a near whisper, the emotion behind your words just as strong, you replied, “How long?” 

The look he gave you was tender and reverent. Your husband clicked his tongue and smiled at the floor before cupping your jaw in his two strong hands, meeting your eyes once again. Tone rich with sincerity, he began, “Back in the Grove, seeing you with all the little Tieflings… a lot of people would have disregarded them as scoundrels, but not you, my darling. 

“You embraced their mischief– not only embraced it, but nurtured it. Refined it. You treated them with patience and respect, and you didn’t look down upon them, you kneeled to their level. At every turn, you protected them, but you never patronized them. You learned just as much from them as they learned from you.” 

He paused for a moment, thumbs stroking over your flushed cheeks, his own skin burning just as hot. Pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, Gale continued, “I’m sure you can imagine how that sent off the train of thought. For the longest time, I bit it back. It felt like a pipe dream, and I didn’t want to kid myself– I’ve done enough of that for two lifetimes. But then the Netherbrain fell, the Absolute released her iron grip on the commonwealth of Faerun, and what’s more, you accepted my hand in marriage. 

“The first morning I woke up next to you in the safety of our marital bed, it didn’t feel like such a distant reality anymore. There you were right before me, and in my mind’s eye, you were bathed in the golden glow of dawn and fertility, your nightgown clinging to your divine, ripening figure. Ever since that moment, the image of you with child has dominated my every waking thought. I crave it like the sweetest wine, my heart, to see you become plump and radiant with motherhood.” 

Leave it to Gale to so easily render you weak in the knees with his poetics. The way he described it, you could see it too. You could see the silk of your nightgown becoming snug around your middle as your belly would come to rise like pastry, you could see the vein in Gale’s brow tense while he would struggle to put a crib together. You could see your grocery lists growing to include nappies and baby food, you could see a space at the dining table occupied by a high chair. 

He was right, it didn’t feel distant at all. It felt so close you could taste it, the veil between this reality and that one now paper thin, like a cobweb you could just blow away. 

Before you could think up a response, he was speaking again, his tone delicate and low, “Just imagine it, dearest. A child born of you and I would have the purest connection to the Weave imaginable, and you would make a gorgeous mother… You know I adore you always, but I must confess, I’m not sure I would be able to leave you be, seeing you like that. It might just require the strength of a thousand men to pry me away.” 

You puffed out a laugh, your face and the tips of your ears burning with bashfulness. Leaning forward to hide your face away in his soft chest, you teased, “So it wasn’t your mother who put you up to this?” 

“Ah, I’m afraid not, my darling,” He cracked a grin, planting a smooch to the crown of your head. “At least not entirely. This was a hole I dug the both of us into largely on my own, I’ll admit.” 

His hands slid down to rest upon your hips, and for a moment, you just held each other like that. It felt cozy, it felt comfortable, like time itself had paused around you. In all your days, no one but Gale could make you feel like that so consistently. You almost wondered if there might be some subtle illusion magic at play in moments like these, but you knew all too well that Gale’s charm had very little to do with the Weave– he was just like that, and you were all the more fortunate for it. 

Gale’s hold on your hips tightened in an affectionate squeeze before his arms were snaking around you, one at your lower back and one where your thighs met your bottom. He lifted you from your feet and spun you around to face the other way, propping you up on the countertop in one smooth movement, the tightening front of his pants nestled right up against the crotch of your underwear through your dress. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, and he didn’t make it any easier for you to remember how to breathe when his next move was to stoop his head down and smother your throat with languid kisses. 

“Gale,” You gasped, hips rutting forward to knock into his own, your head spinning as the distinct outline of his arousal grinded right up against your clit. “Gods above, you’re going to be the death of me…” 

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest at your accusation, his teeth nipping playfully at your pulse point before he spoke against your skin, “Always a flair for dramatics with you, my beloved bride… though if that should turn out to be true, then you’d die how you lived; ravished, revered and adored by your most loyal wizard.” 

Just as soon as he’d put you there, Gale was plucking you up from the countertop again, and while it was your immediate assumption that he was going to carry you off to the bedroom, it would seem he didn't even have the patience for that. Your back hit the dining table with a gentle thud, though the ever mindful wizard braced the back of your head gracefully with an oven mitt just in time. 

You dissolved into a fit of squirms, giggles, and quiet yelps as his lips and teeth met your neck in a display of needy attention, his fingertips crackling with magic as they found their way up beneath the skirt of your dress. Grip printing into your hips, he dragged you back until your clothed cunt was flush with his bulge again, and the electric shock of pleasure that rang through you in response threatened to knock the wind out of you. 

Gale wouldn't, you thought to yourself, surely he wouldn't enchant his-- 

He tilted your chin up with his knuckle, a brutally smug grin plastered on his rosy face as your eyes met again. "Are you with me, dearest?" His thumb came forward to stroke over the plush of your bottom lip, almost pulling it into a pout himself. 

"Yeah," You shivered, nodding without even really thinking about it. You couldn't even bring yourself to poke fun at him for that like you might have otherwise. "Did you--" 

"Shh," Gale cooed, untying the laces of his trousers to relieve some of the pressure before he folded over you and rolled his hips forward again, caging you between the table and his warm, plush frame. The barrier between you was lesser now, and you felt it immediately.

He was radiating the Weave, delicate strands seeping through the thin fabric of your undergarments to kiss, lick, and tingle over your flesh. The sensation wasn't completely foreign-- taking a master wizard as a partner and lover for life naturally lent itself to inappropriate use of the arcane-- but no two intimate encounters with him were ever alike. Sometimes it made you wonder just how many of those hours he spent locked away in his tower were giving him ideas. 

In hardly any time at all you could feel yourself soaking through your panties, your hips rutting forward to chase him and your mind slipping away into a helpless little puddle of mush, and he had barely even touched you yet. It was all by design, of course-- he didn't want to get too cocky and risk wasting a drop of himself that could otherwise be getting you pregnant. 

Discarding his shirt and dragging your panties down with shaking hands, Gale groaned at the sight of your arousal, the extent of it. You were right drooling between your legs, pussy glistening with the very same juices that drenched and clung to your underwear. He couldn't help but dip two fingers between your silky folds to collect your nectar for himself. As soon as it hit his tongue he felt like he couldn't breathe. Your taste was creamy and sweet like icing, a flavor he wouldn't ever tire of even if it was the only thing he could ever have again. He could devour you for a lifetime and still hunger for eternity. 

"You're going to grow so beautifully," He said lowly, eyes half-lidded and his pupils blown wide as saucers. In you he saw nothing but the future. One hand shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs and the other planting itself upon your stomach, his cock sprang up to kiss the plump flesh of his own belly as he continued, "I will thank the divines for the remainder of my life that I should have the pleasure of watching you ripen with our fruit." 

You could have cried. Your bottom lip did wobble a little bit as you gazed up at him, choking up, and he stooped down to kiss you immediately. 

"None of that," He mumbled against your lips, dragging his stiff, weeping cock through your folds to keep you good and dizzy, every contact of his skin against yours still buzzing with the arcane. "I have you, okay? I have you. I love you. You're alright." 

Nodding in response, feeling the tears dry up right then and there, your lips parted in preparation to respond but all that came out was a deep, pleasured cry. Gale was sinking into your hole like he was made for you, stretching you open with slow, delicate thrusts, his breath heavy and lustful in your ear. 

Stuffing you full of himself until the head of him was threatening to kiss your cervix, Gale stilled for a moment, nipping at the shell of your ear before kissing your cheek affectionately and checking in with you, "Feeling good, my darling?" 

"Mhm," You nodded, and as soon as your approval registered to him, he began to move. 

Bliss. Pure and uncut bliss. That quiet little hum of approval quickly melted into staggered breaths and mewls, your hands finding purchase in kneading at the dough of his waist. You really couldn't get over how well the extra weight suited him, how perfectly it softened his edges and padded out the warmest parts of his physique. He was made for a body like this, a little bit round and squishy and sweet. You wanted to swallow him in one bite. 

Every stroke of his cock inside you felt like true euphoria, crackles and tingles of pleasure radiating outward from each and every nerve ending, and he felt it too. You could tell by the look on his face, the way his mouth hung open with deep, wanton moans, the way he shivered and stuttered with damn near every thrust. 

"G-Gale," You cried out, nails printing into his flesh as you tried to tug him down to you. 

Typically he would have obliged you without hesitation, but Gale had other plans at the moment. Bracing himself against the fine oak wood to the right side of your head, his other hand gripped at your thigh and angled your leg up with ease. Before you could register what he was about to do, he was already doing it. 

Folding you into a half mating press, he drove into you deep, the Weave sinking into your bloodstream with a staggering intensity that nearly made you scream. 

Swallowing your cries with his own lips, Gale kissed you just about as deeply as he was fucking you, his facial hair scratching and tickling at your cheeks as his silky tongue slipped over your own. Every knock of his hips against your own had the dining table rattling too, the walls of your marital home ringing with the sounds of sex, the obscene squelching of your pussy sucking him in, the needy whines and moans slipping from you both. 

You felt like you were on fire in the best possible way. Every square inch of your body was alight with lust and magic, your legs hooked around his hips to draw him even closer. The two of you could fuse together and you would still want to get closer. 

Soon enough, your throbbing clit was met with the unexpected pressure of arcane fingertips, measured strokes of a figure-eight over your swollen bud that coaxed you higher and higher and higher until you felt like you were weightless there on that table, lifting from it, your lips only parting from his own as your head fell back against the oven mitt in a desperate gasp for breath. 

That breath was almost immediately followed by a broken cry of his name, the stimulation causing your greedy cunt to clench and pulse around him, again, by design. Sinking down on his elbow so he could speak directly into your ear, his cock stroking so deeply into you that it nearly felt like it was prodding at your lungs, Gale groaned, "That's it, pup, there you are... Such pretty noises from my good girl, my darling little wife..." 

"I love you, I love you, I--" 

Cutting you off with a kiss, Gale replied, "I love you more, and I'll give you as many babies as it takes to prove it."

Your vision went white, thighs wrenching tight around his hips as you plummeted over the edge unlike ever before. It felt like traveling through a lightning bolt, your spine arching up into a fine point, your stomach pressing up against his own as he emptied his load inside you, mage hand still circling your puffy clit. 

Ropes and ropes of creamy seed flooded your hole until you were stuffed to the brim, leaving behind that delicious pressure that came along with being stretched so full. Your bottom half felt heavy as you fought to catch your breath beneath him, tears leaking from your dewy eyes. 

"N-No more, no more with the mage hand," You stammered, sucking in a sharp breath as its thumb and forefinger took your clit in a delicate pinch. 

Another second or two passed in which he continued to have his fun before deciding you'd had enough. The stimulation to your bud slowly ceased, but as he withdrew his softening sex from you, you quickly realized you didn't feel any less full. 

Brows knitting together, you squirmed and struggled to sit up, watching Gale turn his back to dampen a washcloth before returning to you, gently wiping the sweat from your brow and the slick from your inner thighs, brushing your hair away from your face reverently. "Shh, shh. Just sit still for a moment longer, alright? Let me get you cleaned up." 

He continued his gentle work until you were refreshed and sparkling before scooping you up from the dining table like a princess in his arms, carrying you off to the bedroom to get you both changed. 

It was only as the two of you entered the room and you caught sight of yourself in the floor-length mirror that you realized Gale's mage hand was still very much at work, its thick middle and ring fingers plugging you up nicely. Not a drop was wasted with the diligent digits blocking the way. 

Gale helped you out of your dress and into a soft nightgown, and in your exhaustion you were ready to just crash into bed for the night. Curling up atop the covers as Gale changed into loungewear of his own, you were about to fall asleep right then and there when he woke you with a loving grin. 

"Huh?" You mumbled, reaching up to rub your eyes, and as his own raked over the image of your beautiful body, he couldn't stop thinking about the many ways it would come to develop over the next several months. 

"We still haven't eaten, my love." 

You groaned, burying your face back into the bedding stubbornly. "But I'm tired..." 

"You were the one who wanted dessert before dinner, sweetest," He teased. "We've had our dessert, and now it's time for dinner. Besides, I thought we agreed to fluff you up a bit?"

A bashful smile tugging at your cheeks, you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, huffing out, "Okay, okay, fine," reaching your arms out for him to carry you again, and you were so lucky he loved to baby you. 

Gale didn't hesitate to take you into his arms, your head nestled up against his chest as you returned to the kitchen together. He placed you gently down in a chair at the dining table before assessing what he'd left on the stove earlier. His 'masterpiece' was now ice cold and unappealing to him, and surely his darling wife deserved better than cold and unappealing. 

Turning over his shoulder to look at you, Gale asked you a question that you didn't think you'd ever hear him ask; "How about tavern food tonight?"

You heard the warden! Chop, chop!

(P.S.: would anyone be interested in an entire line of BG3 pride stickers from me? Or even just a variation on this?)

Gale's folly