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finalgirllx · 2 months

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bartender mattheo riddle

i'm a slut for AUs and this one quickly shot up to being one of my favorites for mattheo.

for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge, the prompt i went off of was 'firewhiskey/butterbeer'

As you tread the once-familiar cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, the rhythmic click of your shoes provides a temporary distraction from the storm swelling inside your thoughts. For such a lively village, the action around you feels distant, too far in the past to offer any respite similar to the steady cadence beneath your feet.

To outside viewers, you appear as any young person donning a modest party dress and looking for a casual spot to unwind for the evening. They wouldn't know this was your first visit to Hogsmeade in over five years since you finished your schooling at Hogwarts. You had left the highlands, your small hamlet, for bigger, better things—or so you had thought.

Reality didn't guarantee such promises you had dreamed of in those few years. Currently barely making ends meet and running on a general sense of uncertainty, you decided it was as good a time as any to revisit your hometown and the magical communities surrounding it, including this cheerful wizarding town you had frequented throughout your adolescence.

You first tried your luck with the Three Broomsticks, but the bustling atmosphere proved too overwhelming for the discreet return you aimed for. With the decision between the rundown Hog's Head inn and a newer, more upscale establishment called 'Celestial Sips,' you opted to see what this new 'fancy-schmancy' spot was all about.

You stealthily step through the polished entry doors to scan the venue, which is dimly lit beside faint golden lights. It is adorned with oddly shaped furniture more suited for artistic expression rather than usability. It appears far more modernized than the traditional charm most common with Hogsmeade’s businesses, young wizarding folk undoubtedly curated it with heavy inspiration coming from muggle cocktail lounges.

The existence of the bar itself in a place such as Hogsmeade wasn't the most earth-shattering part of this night out. It was when your eyes met with the lead bartender, and a flood of memories filled your senses as you realized it was none other than Mattheo Riddle.

His dark curls were unruly as ever but fell in such a way that made him irresistible. His piercing dark gaze caught yours, sparking with recognition. The scar across the bridge of his nose was just as prominent as it was six years ago, as vivid as the day you had dragged him to the hospital wing to get his split nose mended after a particularly grueling fistfight.

That memory also reminds you just how close you and him once were. While you had never officially dated, you did everything a couple would and then some. You shared countless fun late nights, as well as having been there for each other during the more trying ones. And although sexual intimacy didn't come until after graduation, the passion of those post-school days also remains etched in your memory. It was your decision to pursue "bigger things" that had cut that short, leaving you with a lingering sense of what might have been.

Despite the distance between you as you reeled from the shock of encountering him here, you couldn't help but notice the changes in Mattheo over the past five years. Mattheo exuded a confidence far from the troubled boy you once knew at school. He had grown taller, broader, and even more handsome than before. He was also now littered with tattoos that only added to his allure, tempting you to bridge the distance separating you further.

Your knee-jerk reaction would have been to flee the scene, but since you had already met eyes and he was actively beckoning you forward to the bar as you battled with your thoughts, you had no choice but to participate in the unexpected reunion.

You sat at a bar stool, and Mattheo quickly welcomed you with a warm but distinctively husky tone. It was clear that Mattheo was struggling to mask his excitement over seeing you as he tried to maintain some professionalism while behind the bar.

"The greatest stroke of luck I've encountered since taking the job at this fancy joint," Mattheo started with genuine delight, "I can't believe it's you. You look fantastic," his quick work of sweet-talking you did the trick as your cheeks flushed, though still totally sober. Mattheo was also swift in amending that, sliding a vodka cranberry before you with a nod, "On the house. Let me know if you want something more 'refined' for the setting; I just went with an old favorite."

You let out a soft giggle, drawing the straw to your lips to sip the drink. The sweetness of the juice masks the burn, perfectly balanced to not overwhelm from either end.

With Mattheo's excellent job of putting you at ease, you finally replied. "Indeed, you always teased me for not being a whiskey drinker. Old habits die hard," you quipped, taking another sip before continuing. "But, look at you! A bartender? Mattheo, I must say, I'm thrilled to see you here and not, well.." your words lingered away at the implication, realizing it might not sound as encouraging as intended. There were all sorts of rumors of him headed to a life of dark wizardry, so seeing him here was a relief. But he didn't have to hear about any of that, not now. Quickly shifting your approach, you perked up to suggest, "And at this luxurious place? While I appreciate the old favorite, I would love to see what magic you could conjure up in a cocktail glass."

Mattheo laughed and shook his head momentarily before piping up again. "Seems your confidence has skyrocketed. I'm glad to see that, princess," he teased with a cheeky smirk, earning an eye roll from you that only amused him further. You again feel a little heated at the nickname, opting not to question it. You could see that the mischievous glint in his eyes was alive and well as he began meticulously combining various expensive-looking drinks and mixers just for you. Simultaneously, Mattheo tended to other existing patrons, expertly traversing the sprawling bar to ensure everyone's needs were met and drinks stayed filled.

Observing how Mattheo carried himself with such assuredness only heightened your attraction. Each movement he made to speak with patrons and craft drinks allowed you to appreciate his muscled physique. You were no better than a groupie ogling his toned, tattooed arms, his hands still bearing faint scars from his past. The sight of his veins flexing with every motion ignited a fire in your stomach that you hoped wouldn't consume you entirely.

His broad shoulders and slim waist were accentuated by his dark button-up dress shirt. That caught your attention, as did when your gaze moved downward and drifted over his perfectly sculpted behind. You were abruptly snapped from your desirous stupor when the object of your admiration set a much fancier cocktail before you.

"Like what you see?" Mattheo asked with a smug, teasing tone, causing you to want to disappear into the ground beneath your stool. You must have been less-than-subtle about checking him out, but he didn't seem to mind as he continued without further ribbing. "Try that. It's the Mattheo special," he said, watching you intently to see how you reacted to the first sip.

You smirked at the oh-so-creative name and then inspected the drink itself. It was rather extravagant, a lavender purple hue with swirls of gold shimmering with every swish of the glass.

Without hesitation, you lifted the glass and took a small sip. A delightful combination of blueberry and lemon overtook your tastebuds, almost completely shielding the strength of the alcohol in the drink. Hell, you were prepared to question if it was mixed at all had you not watched him pour at least a shot's worth of vodka into it.

You gave him a smile of approval, to which Mattheo grinned widely, clearly pleased to see you liked it. With the other patrons momentarily tended to, Mattheo rested his elbows on the counter, surprising you with his sudden proximity as he leaned forward, suggesting he had something enticing to say.

"I hope this isn't too forward, but I'd really like to catch up," Mattheo spoke in a hushed tone. It sounded innocent enough, but the question, paired with his gaze lingering on your figure, told you he meant anything but. "Would you consider sticking around till close?"

Yes, yes, yes! Your internal monologue screamed. On the outside, you locked eyes with him and smirked, your expression conveying you understood his intentions well. "I don't have anywhere else I want to go; I can stick around."

-----------------------

You were cautious with your drinking to avoid getting too intoxicated for your later plans with Mattheo. As the closing time for Celestial Sips approached, you remained near the counter, bantering with other patrons. Mattheo delegated cleaning duties to other employees while he called for final rounds and closed tabs. Each time your eyes met, a shared twinge of excitement passed between you.

After another hour or so, Mattheo finally shut down the lit 'open' sign, leaving you two together alone. While this is what you wanted, your nerves welled up upon the realization that it was just the two of you here. A hint of insecurity came over you. He had grown to be such an attractive, confident man, and you could only hope he found you equally appealing. That line of thought was interrupted when Mattheo began approaching you. His expression, filled with hunger, was directed at you. His captivating eyes combined with the deep-brown locks drooping over his forehead implored you to swoon from where you sat.

"Merlin, princess, you have no idea how much I've missed you," Mattheo murmured, his voice brimming with seduction as he closed the distance, his hands finding their place on the curve of your waist. “Please let me know if you want me to slow down at any time." His words echoed in your ears, bringing you comfort even though you felt wholly prepared to surrender to all of his desires.

Mattheo advanced until your back pressed against the front of the counter. His lips found the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with a trail of wet kisses in their wake. A moan escaped your lips as his actions ignited your longing for more; everything you had wished his hands on you would feel like coming true. However, the heat was cut short far too soon when Mattheo suddenly took a pause from all of the heavy petting.

"You seem tense," Mattheo remarked with a hint of concern. You promptly reassured him with affectionate pecks to his cheek before admitting, "I just hope I'm good for you." His eyes briefly darkened as if displeased by your hesitancy. Suddenly, both of his hands moved to cup your cheeks, and he gazed deeply into your eyes.

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on. I meant every word when I said I fantasized about a moment like this with you for years," he confessed. The sincerity in his voice compelled you to trust him, leaving you with no doubt about whether he wanted this.

Seeing you take his words to heart, Mattheo's expression then lit up, clearly having a lightbulb moment. "If you're ready, this place is chock full of drinks to help us both loosen up a bit," As soon as he mentioned it, you felt almost silly having overlooked the idea, realizing that some liquid confidence was the answer to easing your nerves. You nodded, and Mattheo took his hand in yours and gently guided you behind the bar counter.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, and you instantly replied, "I do."

In one swift motion, one hand made its way to the back of your head and the other to the small of your back so he could pull you into a passionate kiss. Your tongues found each other in a dance, his dominant side quickly winning over as his tongue protruded into your mouth. When you briefly pulled away to catch your breath, your cheeky side showed itself when you gently tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth. He moaned slightly, to your satisfaction, and you took advantage of the moment to run your hand over his chest, feeling the muscles underneath that dress shirt. You finally had Mattheo Riddle all to yourself, and you wanted all of him.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the hips, pulled you close, and spun you around to bend you over the counter. One hand curled around your hair to create a makeshift ponytail, the other wasting no time grabbing a bottle of fire whiskey within arm's reach and placing it beside you.

"I'm sorry, doll. I know you love vodka, but whiskey is perfect for tonight."

You looked up at him with doe-like pleading eyes as he gripped your hair, nodding as much as you could though restricted by his hold. He grinned wickedly over your enthusiastic consent before looming over you with a dominating presence. "Open up that mouth, princess."

Your lips slightly parted as Mattheo brought the open bottle of whiskey to your mouth. He poured a shot's worth down your throat, the intense heat burning on your tongue without anything to chase it down. Yet, as Mattheo force-fed you the drink and whispered praises in your ear about how you 'take it so well,' the burn of the whiskey transformed into a divine sensation, exhilarating in the best way. The bar counter was the only thing stopping you from melting to the floor as you became weak in the knees, your aroused state especially susceptible to his praise.

Mattheo lifted the bottle away from you to take a swig, holding you to the counter with a heavy palm against your back. He sighed, satisfied by the burn.

After a moment, he turned his attention back on you and pulled your hair to the side, hastily marking your neck with suctioned kisses and nibbles. At the same time, Mattheo's fingers ghosted down your back, caressing your ass and jolting you with a swift spank, finally reaching underneath your dress to stroke your cunt through your slick panties.

"Merlin, princess, after seeing the way your lips wrapped around that bottle, I wanted to fuck that pretty mouth so bad. But feeling how goddamn wet you are for me, I'm not sure either of us can wait for my cock to be inside your perfect, tight pussy."

His long fingers moved away from your aching core, reaching up and now brushing against your lips. "Will you wet my fingers a little more for me?" he asked in a voice too enticing for such an indecent request. You immediately allowed him to intrude your mouth, his fingers already covered in your taste though he had just barely begun to touch you. "We have to prepare that pussy don't we?" he groaned into your ear. You were distracted as his hardened cock ground into your ass between the fabric of your dress and his trousers.

You could tell he was beginning to lose himself as he seemed enamored by the way your mouth slipped over his fingers, swirling your tongue around them in a show of desperation to please.

Once content with your wetting of his fingers, he pulled them from your mouth and went back to exploring your panties, pushing them aside to tease your folds before slipping the first of his fingers in. It was seamless, not surprising for you, having lusted over him the entire night.

"Fuck, you're still so tight, doll. I have to stretch you out, so this feels as good for you as it will for me."

After a few moments, he introduced a second finger to your soaked cunt. He didn't move at first but gradually began pumping them inside. He could have cum on the spot witnessing your frenetic response to just two fingers.

"Careful, princess. If you want to come on my fingers, you need to beg for it." The words sent a shudder of desperation through your entire body, legs threatening to give out from underneath you as the artful use of his fingers in tandem with his dirty talk brought you toward your first orgasm, unable to resist it even if you tried. Mattheo kept his movements steady as your eyes rolled back and your walls clenched around him, a deep voice leaving the back of his throat to growl, "that's it, ride my fingers, you little slut," His tone this time was demanding, you knew he was displeased by your disobedience. His untamed, hungry expression evolved into something more conniving as he contemplated how to punish you for cumming without permission.

"You like that, huh? A slut who couldn't wait to beg? I should put my cock inside you and make you cum until you can't stand it anymore, then, hm? Do you want that? Cry for it, princess, or you're not getting it."

You quickly fulfill this command with desperate pleas, "Please, Mattheo, please, fill me with your cock."

"Fucking hell, princess--if I wasn't about to bust, I'd have you begging more. Desperation sounds fucking delicious rolling off your tongue," Mattheo growled against your ear as one of his hands haphazardly moved back to his trousers, hastily unbuttoning them to allow his needy length to spring free and press against you. The relief of finally freeing himself caused a deep groan to slip past his lips which only seemed to increase his urgency as his hands quickly found their place on your body again, yanking your dress up over your ass and delivering a forceful slap to your exposed flesh. You yelped and squirmed reflexively from the sting, much to his delight. "That's my fucking ass, don't forget it," he groaned with a certain smugness at the sight of his handprint forming on your skin.

"Please, Matty, please fuck me," you pleaded with a nearly pathetic level of desire. With that, Mattheo decided not to waste another second before indulging you. He took hold of your hips, guiding his cock to your slick folds, and slowly started to ease himself inside of you.

You gasped at the intrusion, reveling in the stretch, but Mattheo cooed praises to relax you enough so there was little discomfort as you adjusted to his size. "Fuck, you fit around me so well. perfect pussy, perfect girl." he groaned as he could feel your wet warmth surround him. “is this okay?"

"Yes, please keep going."

Mattheo used the makeshift ponytail of your hair to lift your head and press his full weight against you onto the counter. His hips began to move, thrusting slowly to start until he was absolutely sure you could take him. With you now sandwiched between his body and the cold surface, he worked up to fucking you at a relentless pace, the base of his cock clashing against your ass as he bottomed out inside of your cunt. The hand steadying you by the hip reached up to wrap around your throat, squeezing at the sides enough for you to feel his strength but not enough to cause pain. It seemed almost to be a reminder for himself not to completely lose to the animalistic urges as he continued to increase the intensity. Your pelvis clanging against the bar didn't matter; you always like it rough, and he knew it.

"Princess, oh gods, I don't know if I'll last." He moaned into your ear paired with short, hot breaths. "You feel so fucking good; I wanted this for so..fucking...long." he sang his praises between each punctuated thrust that hit just the right spot inside of you again and again. The repeated stimulation triggers your second orgasm, your walls clenching around his cock as a choked moan barely escapes your lips- the sound being caught by his firm hold on your neck.

"We're fucking meant for each other, babe," Mattheo grunted as you rode through your wave of pleasure. All you could do in your cockdrunk state was mewl in response, which fueled his ego. "Perfect dumb slut for me, you love taking my cock, don't you? Tell me how much you love my cock," his dirty talk turned more degrading as your most depraved desires inched closer to showing themselves on the surface.

"Love your cock Matty.. mhm so good..."

"Good slut. Now, say you're mine," he commanded, completely frenzied with his pacing.

"I'm yours." you babbled with complete devotion. Mattheo groaned as you so willingly gave into his possessiveness, the very idea of owning every part of you being the tipping point to let his release out inside of you. His rutting became erratic and slowed as he rode through his orgasm, the last few pumps matching your third orgasm in stride.

He then laid limp on top of you, letting out heaving exhales to regain his composure. For the moment, he left his cock to twitch inside of you, relishing in the warm feeling. Once convinced he could get up properly, he pulled out, leaving your pussy dripping with his cum as his entire body lurched over you.

"That was perfect, you were perfect. Best stroke of luck in ages," he mused with a throaty chuckle, recalling his first words when you locked eyes at the beginning of the night. "Can you walk?" he asked, mostly teasingly because the shaking of your legs answered that question without a doubt.

"No," you spoke softly, the giggles you had at the beginning of the night starting to return even if your mind wasn't still fully there from the back-to-back stimulation.

With this, Mattheo decided to hold you for a while longer. You had a lot of catching up to do and piecing together both of your stories to find out how, after so many years, you still ended up right here. But for now, the shared presence was enough.

------------------ huge thankies to @slytherinslut0 for coaching me through this. i was very spooked to share. love y'all <3

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle au #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogmarch challenge

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hello-eeveev · 1 year

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Essek and Caleb both learn the Maze spell and cast it on each other as Wizard Enrichment™. They get sent into a labyrinth with the goal of ‘escape’, and if they can’t get out in 10 minutes, they just get popped back out. No harm, no foul.

It starts out as a fun little activity, but then they start getting competitive about it. First, it’s basic races—who can get the fastest time getting out of a maze. But then, they get into a discussion about how the mazes are generated. Is it random? Is there some pattern to the various layouts? And if so, is there a style of maze that is more advantageous? Does the maze creator have any influence over the design of the maze?

The thing is, Maze only requires a DC 20 Intelligence check to escape. That’s nothing to these guys, and they crack it open pretty quick. So then they ask themselves, can we make it harder?

Their previous toyings with Maze RNG become full on experiments and deep dives to see if they can add increased difficulty. They start adding multiple levels, doors that require you to solve a puzzle to unlock, fetch quests, etc. They come up with the most difficult maps and challenge each other to get their times lower and lower and lower.

They become Maze spell speedrunners and modders is what I’m saying.

#they drag Yussa into their little club as well #and it eventually becomes an official sport in Nicodranas #Yussa is somewhere between ‘I am the greatest gamer of all time non can defeat me’#and ‘if I’m not suffering am I really gaming?’#every time I think about spell noodling for fic purposes I keep coming back to this #I don’t know much science but I do know video games #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #eve talks #late night wizard posting

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 6 months

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Sirius Black Appreciation Post

Time to celebrate Sirius Black's birthday by highlighting my favorite canon facts 🥳

Sirius is tall. We're talking at least 6'.

He's intelligent AF. He became an Animagus at 15. He charmed a Muggle motorbike to fly (Arthur couldn't do that with a car, Sirius did it in his late teens, latest at age 20). He escaped from Azkaban. He got a cat to order a racing broom. My man is brilliant, no doubt about it.

Sirius has a complicated relationship with his mother and it is *not* merely hatred. Note that he did not destroy his mother's portrait, or slash it as he did with the Fat Lady's. I'm confident that he could've figured out a way to destroy it or otherwise get rid of it, but he doesn't. His refuge is in his mother's old room with Buckbeak. There's something very complicated in his relationship with his family that can't be labeled as simple loathing. Sirius may have run away from home at 15/16, but his background 100% shaped him and left its mark on his personality and psyche.

Sirius was good friends with Lily. The letter from Lily to Sirius is great proof of that - it wasn't James who wrote that letter, but LILY. Sirius was smiling and genuinely happy at Jily's wedding.

Sirius is emotionally driven, and lashes out *with good reason.* When he goes after Wormtail the night the Potters died, it's because Harry is taken away from him. He has nothing to hold him down - and even gives his motorbike to Hagrid. When he tries to get to Wormtail in PoA, he slashes the portrait but doesn't harm a single boy in his search for the rat. When he goes to the Department of Mysteries, his focus is on Harry. These are good reasons, even if it puts him in danger.

Sirius has a great sense of humor. He puts little Santa hats on the decapitated elf heads. He chases pigeons as Padfoot just to make Harry smile. He sends a good luck note with a muddy paw print. He is scathingly funny, when he derides Peter's hero worship of James in Snape's Worst Memory. He's bitter and sarcastic. We love to see it.

Sirius is a baby boomer. He was born in 1959. "Ok, boomer," is an applicable retort.

Sirius is not misogynistic. He does not hate women. He is often kinder to women than men. He helps Ginny up in OoTP. No matter how angry he gets at Molly, he is never, ever physical with her (unlike the way Sirius is with snape, who he does get physically aggressive with). He is kind to Hermione. He had a great relationship with Lily. Even in the end, his last words to Bellatrix are 'you can do better than that.'

Sirius does not have a canonical love interest.

Sirius is willing to challenge Dumbledore. This is an important point - with so many people deferring to Dumbledore's judgment, including Remus, the Weasleys, and Harry - Sirius will challenge him and his decisions. He may not get his way, but Sirius has the personal strength and confidence to challenge one of the greatest wizards of all time.

Sirius was great with animals. Crookshanks and Buckbeak are prime examples of this.

Sirius is deeply flawed: he can get very intense. He can be rash, even if he has good reasons. He can be bitter to the point of hurting others ('the risk would've made it fun for James'). He can be cruel and condescending (my robes have enough filth without you touching them/wormail will piss himself with excitement). He can be callous (wishing it was the full moon, sending Snape on a potentially deadly adventure). He's a hurricane of deep, complex emotions.

Canon Sirius would obliterate fanon Sirius.

Happy birthday, Sirius. You would've loved James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. You'd have had the time of your life at Hinny's wedding. You are an absolute king.

#sirius black #sirius orion black #happy birthday sirius #tall sirius black #the marauders #marauders era #james potter #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #harry potter

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loviatarsluv · 24 days

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Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now.

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him.

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances.

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone.

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise.

Though, he could hardly blame him.

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her?

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her.

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain.

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night.

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically).

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her.

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed.

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t.

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his.

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him.

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp.

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return.

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being.

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock.

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction.

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh.

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?”

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche.

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s.

Firebolt. No, no.

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.”

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.”

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow.

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted.

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her.

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed.

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her.

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised.

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation.

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight.

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips.

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.”

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench.

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches.

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment.

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?”

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center.

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars.

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now.

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it.

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle.

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression.

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him.

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent.

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face.

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.”

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll.

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details.

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak.

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed.

“What the hells is wrong with y—”

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes.

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him.

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault.

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones.

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space.

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure.

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands.

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.”

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate.

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.”

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body.

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time.

Gale as a lover was no different.

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head.

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly.

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her.

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them.

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more.

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby.

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him.

I need to suck your cock. Please.

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection.

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet.

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness.

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy.

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls.

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his.

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic.

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger.

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.”

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can.

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate.

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.”

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat.

Home. This felt like home.

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare.

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning.

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest.

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Gale, I’m gonna—”

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.”

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating.

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had.

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further.

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight.

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed.

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.”

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.”

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest.

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship.

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy.

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.”

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber.

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

Text

Twists and Turns (Astarion x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion initially rejected you and you turn your attentions elsewhere- to his surprise.

By the time Astarion realizes his feelings for you- it’s too late. You and Gale are happy together and Astarion would never ruin that for you, but sometimes fate surprises us. Especially Astarion- who never thought he’d see Gale as a hero.

CW: Character death, angsty?, fluffy, crotch goblins (children)

Pairings: Gale Dekarios x F! reader and Astarion Acunin x F! reader- also some dadstarian

✨lightly edited✨

Author note: I was inspired by @thedomesticanthropologist post regarding an unconventionally attractive Tav. I didn’t really touch on it too much, but it is apart of the story to an extent. Please be kind because my writer’s anxiety has been so bad I almost deleted my blog entirely 🫣

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 💜

Photo belongs to @venenum-cadaverinus on Tumblr

By the time Astarion had fallen in love with you- it had already been too late.

Oh he flirted with you, called you beautiful when he believed you weren’t much to look at, and then you had come up to ask if he would want to go look at stars with you the night of the Tiefling party. Astarion couldn’t get himself to even pretend he wanted to indulge in you. He assumed you were only wanting to sleep with him and he was not about to sleep with you just because you asked. Astarion no longer has to do anything anyone asks of him.

“I have standards.”

Your face falls and the book of Astronomy in your hand nearly slips.

“Oh- I,” you clear your throat, “I’m sorry to have bothered you then.”

He had rolled his eyes when he came back from being with whatever Tiefling woman he had approached- you had been crying quietly in your tent.

Astarion found the whole thing unattractive and well, really he found you unattractive. Astarion has a preference for traditionally beautiful people and you would never be that. You would surely get over it eventually and if he’s lucky, you’ll just be an annoying kicked puppy who will do anything for him like you have been since he met you.

So, for whatever reason, Astarion assumed everything would go back to normal the next day and the two of you would fall back into the usual routine- he sits and reads while you eat breakfast in the mornings, he talks about whatever book he is reading, you ask him questions about himself, and then you go about your days separately until going through the same motions for dinner. Astarion fights next to you and you protect each other. You are smitten with Astarion and he has you wrapped around his pinkie finger like he wanted.

So imagine his surprise when you don’t come out for breakfast or dinner at all- at least not to sit with him. All of a sudden, Gale is with you all the time. He had seen the man come up to you while you were holding your book and he hugged you- the wizard even glared at Astarion while he was doing it.

Astarion upped his game after that, but nothing he said ever reached you anymore. He’d call you beautiful and he’d watch you visibly flinch. He asked you to go to bed with him and you told him no- you wanted to be with someone who thought you were special and beautiful. Astarion said he does think that. You got angry with him and told him to stop lying- go back to “having standards”. Your anger stung and he knew it was justified, but the little pieces of your trust he could get eventually blossomed into a friendship. Only, now he wanted more and Astarion was entirely infatuated with you.

He had decided to tell you how he felt one night before the descent into the Shadow Cursed Lands, but you were quickly swept away by Gale the moment Astarion tried to come talk to you.

Gale was dragging you off somewhere very specific and when Astarion let his nosiness get the best of him- it dawned on him that he had truly lost you 2 months ago when he had said what he said.

You peer through a telescope excitedly, telling Gale about all your favorite constellations and why. He shares his own knowledge with you and you are wide eyed, fascinated- leaning in to hear more. Gale’s own lips hover over yours and the two of you are smiling at each other widely. Astarion thinks he’s going to throw up when Gale kisses you- not because he’s disgusted, but because it occurred to him that he might have thrown away the only person who actually gave a shit about Astarion enough to love him and he broke your heart. Fitting that he is the one hurting now.

Maybe that’s really all you had wanted- to share something you love with Astarion. You wanted to feel like he gave a shit about you too and he said, “I have standards”!? What in the hells is wrong with him!?

The part of him- the less prideful part- wishes he had gotten to see you this way for him. Why did he spend so much time focusing on you knowing him? Why didn’t he take the time to see you this way? Know you this way when you wanted him.

Gale said something that made you laugh heartily as he brushed stray hair from your face, his hands gripping your hips, and you gasped when he kissed you again. The sound fills Astarion with warmth, but makes him feel sick at the same time. That should be him with you, not Gale.

You went from being plain, unattractive and uninteresting to the single most beautiful individual he has ever met. Astarion found himself hanging onto your words (even the angry ones) and yearning to be next to you.

You continued to do your dance with Gale while Astarion continued his own dance with you. When you threaten that horrible Drow on his behalf, Astarion has to accept it- he has well and truly fallen for you.

Astarion decided he would tell you when you got back from whatever excursion you were on with Gale. He had to at least try. Besides, what could Gale possibly show you in the Shadow Cursed Lands?

Only it had been too late- neither one of you came back for hours and when you did, the two of yours’ scents were mingled so closely together he could barely distinguish you from Gale. You began sleeping in the man’s tent, holding his hand during meals, exchanging kisses, etc.

Astarion, on the other hand, had taken the unofficial title of ‘best friend’. It had stung quite a bit, but he happily took whatever scraps you could give him. It was hardly scraps though- Astarion feels emotionally cared for, protected, and respected by you at all times. Besides, Astarion has a feeling that, if anything happened between you and Gale, there was a very good chance for Astarion to take over that space in your heart again.

The love test at the circus proved it- you had been more compatible with Astarion than Gale. Thankfully you had gone at separate times (Astarion and Gale have since become friendly enough so Astarion doesn’t have to worry about losing you). You had avoided Astarion’s eyes while Gale boasted about the Love Test results.

You had been the first one to wake up and attack his siblings when they had tried to kidnap him. Astarion had never seen you look that angry before in the entire time he has met you- you were even angrier than when Araj had pestered him.

You admitted to Astarion later that day that you hadn’t been sleeping well- you were worried about Cazador or his siblings showing up and that you wouldn’t get there in time. It had been haunting you since the minute you stepped foot in Rivington.

When he finally did face Cazador, it was with you at his side and when he finally killed the man- you didn’t deny Astarion the hug he begged you for telepathically. You held him up as he sank against you and you said soothing words- you told him how proud of him you were. You still reminded him everyday after when he expressed doubt.

Astarion was certain he would watch you grow old with Gale and have a family. So Astarion promised himself that he will love you dutifully regardless and protect you and your family like you have protected him. When you pass? He isn’t sure what he will do then, but he has eternity to be without you and Gods only knows long to be around you.

Until the Wizard of Waterdeep just had to throw him a curve ball the night before the battle against the Netherbrain.

Astarion was sitting by the roaring fireplace as he tried not to make it obvious to Gale that he’s silently pining for you. You were laughing and telling jokes with Karlach and Wyll- Shadowheart joining in and eventually Lae’zel. Your laughter is probably one of Astarion’s favorite sounds.

Only because he doesn’t know what you sound like moaning underneath him.

“You love her.”

Astarion’s train of thought broke and he gawked at the Wizard.

“I-um,” Astarion cleared his throat, “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression. Obviously I’m looking at…”

Actually now that he’s looked over there, none of them were believable enough for him to get out of this one.

“Yes- yes fine. I love her,” Astarion scowls, “you won, I love her and get to watch you live a whole life with her. Congratulations.”

“Astarion- I didn’t say that because I want to rub it in your face. I’m saying it because I have a favor to ask- for Tav’s sake.”

Astarion felt himself freeze. He was silently praying that Gale wasn’t going to tell him to stay away from you- to walk away and never come back after the events of tomorrow. It would be the thing that kills Astarion.

“Okay,” he says wearily, “I’m listening.”

“We all know it’s possible that some of us won’t be leaving this journey alive tomorrow.”

Is he suggesting you might die tomorrow? Astarion still stays right next to you during fights- no one even gets within an inch of you if he can help it.

“If it comes down to it and I need to use my orb,” Gale says solemnly, “I need you to take Tav and run- I don’t care if you need to drag her, cast sleep on her, anything as long as it’s painless.”

Astarion stared at the man blankly. He’s asking Astarion to drag you away as you watch your boyfriend sacrifice himself for the sake of the greater good of humanity.

“Why- why are you asking me? And not Karlach or-“

“Because I know you won’t tell her that I’m considering it as an option,” Gale said before adding, “and I am very aware that she loves you too. She’s going to need you if I die.”

“Need me?,” Astarion laughs in disbelief, “Gale, I broke her heart and I’m about to lose the only way I can walk in the sun tomorrow. It would be stupid of her to-“

“No, it would not,” Gale frowns, “she loves you, Astarion. Stop pushing her away.”

“You aren’t dead yet, Wizard,” Astarion said with an edge to his tone, “there is still a possibility that there is a Dekarios wedding in the foreseeable future.”

Gale smiled sadly at Astarion.

“That is the hope- is it not?” Gale got up to join you and the others, “you’ll remember that you deserve to be loved for her- won’t you?”

Astarion watched the man walk off like he hadn’t just dropped a massive bomb onto Astarion’s world. He watched as you smiled brightly at Gale and your hands intertwined with his.

But he also caught you looking over at him with a welcoming, pleading smile. Astarion smiles back and joins- hoping that he won’t be part of the reason that smile fades ever again.

*******************************

Gale looks at Astarion- they are losing. Tav is hurt, but still trying to sling spells and cantrips. Karlach and Wyll are becoming cornered quickly, Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. Even with all of the support they brought and it still wasn’t enough.

You bastard, Astarion telepathically says to Gale, you really are going to make me the bad guy, huh?

Ha!, Gale thinks sadly, you have it turned around. It has been a privilege to know you, Astarion. Take care of Tav for me.

Same to you, Gale- I promise she’ll be safe.

Gale announces to everyone they need to leave. You run towards Gale screaming for him to stop- that he doesn’t have to do this, but Astarion intercepts you.

“ASTARION- PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW,” you scream while slamming your fists into his back, struggling to make him release you, “PUT ME- GALE PLEASE- I LOVE YOU!”

Gale smiles at you with all the love in the world.

“I love you too, Tav. Always and forever.”

Gale casts a spell and like that- they are on the docks. You are screaming and throwing magic- desperate to get back to Gale as Astarion holds you close to his chest.

“I hate you!” You scream as you push Astarion weakly, “ I… I-“

You look at him pitifully and Astarion’s heart aches with yours. Astarion pulls you back towards him in a tight hug and holds you. You sob into his chest and hold him back with equal ferocity.

Astarion’s ability to comfort you only lasts about five minutes before the sun begins to burn him again and Karlach is dying- Wyll convinces her to go to Avernus with him. Astarion races to the shadows- certain that he is about to go into the darkness alone as he hides behind the crates.

He cradles his burning hand to his chest and hisses through the pain. Astarion doesn’t register the frantic footsteps approaching him.

“ASTARI- oh my Gods.”

He looks up at you in disbelief as you get down to your knees next to him and begin pulling out healing scrolls, potions, anything you can think of that might help.

You stay next to him until it’s time to move to a different set of shadows and you stay with him every moment afterwards.

You spend the next 6 months together starting your search for a Ring of the Sunwalker in the Underdark- successfully assassinating a very powerful Drow Priestess for it right before Wither’s party.

When you head back to Baldur’s gate together- Astarion sells all of Cazador’s shit and his castle. He invites you to live with him and you pick a house together.

Your emotions have been foreign and not easy for Astarion to handle over the last 6 months and even a year after moving in together, but he thinks about how crazy he would feel if you had also died that day and so he has weathered every storm you throw at him.

Astarion sits as you angrily rant about how unfair it was for him to make that decision without you. You wanted a choice, some kind of say, and you even occasionally just screamed at Astarion for preventing you from staying with him.

This continues even after the party that Wither’s throws. Tara adored you just as Gale had predicted and his holograph healed a piece of you, but now your grief is all consuming. You lay in bed for days on end and you stop eating or even coming out of your room. Scratch lays next to you dutifully until Astarion takes him out to use the restroom. They have to disguise the poor dog as a cat, but he doesn’t seem to mind very much.

Astarion lets you sit and do what you need to do, but after day 10, he finally needs to help you feel like a person again- in whatever way he can. So he runs you a bath and he helps you numbly walk towards it. It’s been about 30 minutes since he left you upstairs. He considered offering to help you, but he wasn’t sure if that would be crossing a line.

You walk downstairs moments later and quietly say his name. Astarion looks up at you and smiles- you took a bath.

“Well, well, look at you,” Astarion teases, “you sure clean up nicely.”

You laughed hoarsely at his joke and sat next to him. Astarion doesn’t move- he wants to pull you into his lap, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries.

“Can- would you-,” you choke on the lump in your throat, “would you hold me, please?”

Astarion’s face softens as you begin to sniffle and your shoulder begins to shake with the sobs you are trying to hold back.

“Of course, Darling.”

You crawl into his lap and you lean the side of your head against his unbeating heart. Astarion just goes back to reading his book, enjoying the comfortable silence and how your body finally seems to have relaxed. You’d been so tense for the last two years- constantly on the verge of breaking in half, but he knows how resilient you are. He knows your strength and he knew you would get out of it eventually- even if only for a little while at a time.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice sings through the air and is like music to his ears. You sound like you again- tired and still a little melancholy- but you nonetheless.

“Well, Darling, I thought it might be worth learning about some of this astronomy nonsense a little over a year ago so we could talk about it when you felt better,” Astarion says, trying to say it as nonchalantly as possible, “I’ve come to really enjoy the topic.”

You beam at him and it’s the first time he’s seen a smile reach your eyes in what feels like eons. You quiz him, correct him, you tell him everything over the ‘stars’ and then some as you so horribly said. Astarion can’t help but find the moment to be so bittersweet.

He finally had the moment he wanted with you, but he didn’t think a single moment would cost a life.

************************************

“Elanora! Gale! Get back here you little-“

The twins giggle as they run from Astarion around the house. He understands what people mean by terrible twos now.

It’s been a little over 10 years since Gale died. In that time- Karlach had her engine fixed and five years ago, you found a Wish scroll for Astarion. Being a living breathing human again was a very difficult adjustment for the first two years. It’s been 3 years now and it’s not as difficult, but he did forget about the whole pregnancy thing.

It had been a massive shock when you fell pregnant a few months after you and Astarion had gotten married a little over two years ago. Astarion had been so focused on the proposal being perfect that it took longer for him to ask than he wanted.

You giving birth was probably the most terrifying experience of his life and you very well almost died, but by some miracle, you lived through the gruesome endeavor. He gives his thanks to Shadowheart, Isobel, and Dame Aylin. Astarion suspects Gale might have had a hand in it too because you had been out cold, but woke up with tears in your eyes and told Astarion that A. Gale says hello and B. how dare he think you’d just abandon two children with him like that. You are responsible “dammit!”

Astarion is so grateful you didn’t die giving birth to his children. He loves the little crotch goblins to death, but you are the only one they really listen to. You always tell him it’s because he gives in- Astarion argues “how could I not!? Have you seen them!? They are adorable!”

Scratch tried to help him initially after you left to go spend time with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel at Elfsong Tavern. The poor dog didn’t last much longer than Astarion- hiding under the bed from the monstrous toddlers that are definitely from his gene pool.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind saying n-“

“They are my children, Darling,” he said all too confidently, “I can handle time alone with my children!”

Evidently there is a difference between handling and surviving- Astarion would consider himself trying to survive. He should have taken Halsin’s offer to hang out- maybe the twins would listen to their Uncle more than him.

Astarion eventually caught them, bathed them, read them a book, and got them to bed. The minute Gale fell asleep around 11:30 pm was the same time you came home.

Astarion came down the stairs and you began to laugh as quietly as you could behind your hand. He leers at you playfully.

“Did you have fun, my Star?” You tease.

“Once I finally caught them- yes,” he says flatly.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“Let’s go to bed- then you can tell me all about it and I’ll tell you all the hot gossip Karlach has heard from Wyll about the upper class in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Will it be in the paper tomorrow?”

“Oh yes,” you grin widely, “ oh yes it will.”

Astarion loves when you come back from meeting with Karlach- he always knows what’s happening before it even happens. It means he gets to watch everyone else be scandalized which is usually 1,000 times more entertaining than the gossip itself. One time- the paper had been so explicit that the next door neighbor (an elderly woman) quite literally died of shock after reading about an affair the Magistrate had with the Duke. Apparently she was a hard core supporter of the wives and never anticipated such ugly men to cheat on their wives (you may have found him using a talk to the undead spell on the poor woman).

You fall asleep faster than you anticipated- at least that’s what Astarion thinks. The moment you lay your head on his chest is the same moment you slowly, softly begin to snore as he tells you about the evening. You chuckle when he says he is going to need help cleaning up the water in the bathroom tomorrow.

These are the nights that Astarion finds himself looking up to the heavens and smiling sadly- thanking Gale for his sacrifice, for giving Astarion a life he never thought he would ever have.

Most importantly, he thanks Gale for you. For letting go of what future he could have had with you. For not asking you to stay and die with him.

Gale Dekarios is the only reason Astarion Acunin believes in heroes at all.

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