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roosterforme · 2 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Without you at home, Bradley's big mouth is about to get him in trouble. As he counts down the hours until he can pick you up from the airport, you wrap up your trip to Maryland with a visit to your childhood home. However, you're not as smooth as you think you are. By the time you get back to San Diego, you are an absolute train wreck, and some secrets have been revealed.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

On Thursday morning, Bradley got to work a little bit early. He just needed to make a tiny detour to one of the database computers. He really wasn't sure if you realized that you told him Commander Patterson's first name last night, or if you let it slip by accident, but now that he knew it, he just wanted to check him out.

Every trip you took to Annapolis turned into some sort of disaster at one point or another. He couldn't imagine you were out there looking for trouble, but it sure did find you in the form of Derek or Josh. You were the most capable person Bradley knew, but he loved and respected you enough to know that sometimes you needed a break. Right now, he just wanted to bring you back home and take care of every tiny need or want that you or the baby might have. He'd honestly fucking delight in that.

As soon as he logged into the system, Bradley typed in your full name, complete with Bradshaw hyphenated at the end. A second later, your image appeared on the screen complete with lovely smile and gorgeous eyes. "That's my Baby Girl," he muttered, still captivated by this photo of you.

He forced his fingers back to the keyboard, but no results appeared when he looked for Derrick Patterson. He tried Paterson. Then he tried Derick. Then he tried Derek Patterson and saw the face of the asshole who made his wife cry over a steak dinner. Were you more emotional right now than perhaps you would usually be? Absolutely. But that was only because you were pregnant. As soon as you told him you had a positive pregnancy test, Bradley's number one concern in this world simply switched from his wife to his wife and his child.

This guy looked like a real tool. Forty-four years old. Ranked up to Commander two years ago. Worked in a simulation lab. Had the same degrees from the Naval Academy that you earned. "Yeah, well I can guarantee you're not as smart as her, you motherfucker."

He took another minute to memorize what he saw there before logging out. Maybe he'd ask Maverick about him. Cyclone and Warlock would be good resources, too. Bradley just hated that he wasn't able to make you feel safe and comfortable at the moment, but as soon as he picked you up tomorrow, he'd take care of everything.

When he started to head out to the tarmac, he literally ran into someone while he was adding steaks to the grocery list he saved in his phone. He didn't know how to cook a steak, but he'd get them just in case you were still in the mood for one. "Sorry," he muttered, not really looking up, too concerned with what else you might want.

"It's okay, Bradley."

Then he did look up into the dark eyes of Maria Wilson. "Hey," he said with a smile at your good friend. "I've been meaning to ask you... how's rooming with Bob going for you?"

"Great," she replied with a little shrug and a completely neutral expression. "He's clean and courteous, and I think the arrangement is going to work out really well."

If he didn't know better, Bradley would have believed nothing was going on. She was that good. But he did know better. He wasn't going to do Bob dirty, so he just nodded and said, "I hope it does work out. I've always felt a little bad about stealing my wife away from you."

She just laughed and said, "Like we didn't all see that coming a mile away."

He wandered off with a grin on his face after he said goodbye. He was planning on making a few stops on the way home before Jake showed up to workout together later. Bradley just had to get through one more night and then you'd be back.

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You were an idiot for eating two steaks and seventeen pounds of sides and then passing out for the night. Sure, at the time, it seemed like the best idea you'd ever had. Derek's porterhouse hit the fucking spot like nothing else. The potatoes were creamy and delectable. The brussels sprouts? A thing of beauty.

But Thursday morning, you were back to your normal routine of throwing up as soon as you got out of bed. "I get it, okay?" you gasped as you sprawled out on the bathroom floor. "I understand," you added, letting your hand settle on your belly. "You miss your Dad. Well guess what. I miss him, too. Now will you stop acting out if I promise to take you home tomorrow?"

A soft gurgle as your stomach started to settle was the response you got, and that was actually better than you could have hoped for. When you heard tapping on your hotel room door, you knew it was Cat, and you wanted to cry. You were wearing Bradley's UVA shirt and a pair of your ratty underwear and nothing else, and she'd just keep knocking until you answered.

"I'm coming," you moaned, actually crawling most of the way there. You pulled yourself up and then cracked the door open a few inches, and you were met with Cat's appraising eyes. "Hi."

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get breakfast with me," she said cautiously.

"No, I'm good, but thanks for asking." You tried to close the door, but her foot was immediately preventing that.

"Are you sick?" she asked. "I can bring something back for you."

"No, I'm okay," you told her. Your stomach lurched, and your eyes went wide. You had about ten seconds to get rid of her and make it to the toilet. You didn't know what to do as saliva pooled at the back of your tongue. You started to gag as your eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," she said softly. "If something's wrong, you can tell me."

But you shook your head and let go of the door, making a mad dash back into the bathroom. You barely made it to your knees in front of the toilet before you barfed again. "Why?" you moaned, wiping your mouth with toilet paper before rolling onto the bath mat which had become your best friend.

"Oh my god," Cat muttered as she walked right into your hotel room bathroom. She flushed the toilet and then turned to the sink and started to fill one of the disposable cups with water. "You're pregnant," she stated plainly. "You could have told me, you know. Congratulations, by the way."

As she knelt on the floor next to you, she helped you sit up. You accepted the cup from her and said, "It's just food poisoning." She blinked at you a few times, giving you no wiggle room to lie to her. "Fine," you admitted with a little smile, "I'm pregnant."

She ran the backs of her fingers along your forehead while you sipped the water. "How far along are you?"

"About nine or ten weeks," you whispered as you closed your eyes for a few beats. "I'm just really tired and really fucking sick. I felt good last night, but now I feel terrible again."

Cat took the empty cup from your hand and wrapped you up in a soft hug. "Thank you for holding it together for the presentation. Now you need to get back into bed."

You shook your head and said, "I need to get up and moving so I can go see my parents later."

"No," she said firmly, guiding you back to the bed. "You need to rest right now. You'll feel better if you do."

Part of you wanted to make sure your suitcase was closed so she didn't see your vibrators, but mostly you didn't even care. She had a certain way about her that was calming you down, and as soon as you were in the bed, she tucked you in. You almost believed her when she told you that resting would help you feel better.

"Where's your room key?" she asked once you were curled up on your side.

You let one hand sneak out from under the covers and pointed. "Next to the TV."

She patted your shoulder and promised she would be back soon, and then she was gone. You dozed on and off while your stomach gurgled, and you missed a few texts from Bradley. When Cat eventually opened your door and let herself in, you were actually feeling hungry. And that's when you noticed two bags and a cup carrier in her hands.

Quietly, she set everything down on your nightstand including some orange juice that almost brought a tear to your eye. Somehow she knew that was what you needed when you didn't even know yourself. You sat up as she poked a hole in the lid and handed it to you, and you drank half of it down in one sip.

"You need to eat something," she whispered, taking the cup away again. "I got you a bagel with cream cheese, an egg sandwich, a few different kinds of donuts and a muffin."

You reached for the bagel, and she unwrapped it for you. "I'll pay you back," you rasped, but she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. Just make the baby happy, and we're square," she replied as she sank down into the chair beside the bed.

But you were definitely going to worry about it. Money was very tight for Cat and Jeremiah, so you would have to figure out a way to make it even. She probably spent about forty bucks on all of this for you, and somehow she knew that a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese would go down as happily as the steaks did. You devoured the whole thing and then took some bites out of the egg and cheese sandwich before finishing the orange juice.

Then you drank some of the hot tea as well and nibbled on a muffin, and you felt so much better. Cat asked you a few questions, but she didn't pry. "Bradley must be over the moon," she said softly with a sad smile.

"Oh yeah," you told her, knowing that her ex-husband did not have a relationship with Jeremiah. "He dubbed the baby the chicken nugget." When she laughed, you added, "He's very excited to be a dad."

"He'll be a good one," she confirmed with a nod. "Now why don't you rest for a few more hours, and then I can drop you off at your parents' house so you don't have to drive."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll drop you off and then go to the outlet mall. There are some things I want to get for Jer, and then I can pick you up again." She probably knew it wasn't a good idea to let you drive like this, and you were honestly kind of thankful that she offered.

"Alright." You fell asleep again as soon as she was gone.

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When Bradley left work, it was blazing hot out, and he had his aviators on while he walked to the parking garage. It was already late as hell in Maryland, and he was a little afraid you had already left your parents and gone back to the hotel for the night. But your phone only rang briefly before you answered his FaceTime call.

"Bradley," you sighed, looking better than he'd seen you in weeks. "Here, say hi to everyone."

You turned your phone to reveal both of your parents along with Cat, sitting around the dining room table in the house where he was finally getting used to spending his holidays. They all greeted him warmly before your mom took the phone and asked him at least a dozen questions.

"Are you eating enough without her at home? How's work? How's Tramp? When can we come visit again, because she's not giving us a clear answer?"

She said nothing about the baby, so Bradley assumed you were holding yourself together well enough that it hadn't been mentioned. "I've been subsiding on cereal. Work is great. Tramp is great. I've been thinking about starting a project to expand the upstairs into another bedroom or two, so hopefully after that's finished, you and dad can stay as long as you want."

Bradley knew they would feel like a handful for him if they stayed at the house again, but that was only because he liked being alone with you. He really wanted to take a minute to talk to you privately, but your dad took the phone next so he could show off his latest painting project. When he finally got handed back to you, apparently it was time for you and Cat to head out.

"I'll let you know when the flight leaves tomorrow," you told him. "Love you, Roo."

And that was it. With a deep sigh, he started up the red Bronco and headed to the store on his way home. He hated shopping in his uniform; he always got a bunch of looks from people, mostly women. He tried to make it quick, but it took him a little time to gather up steaks, potatoes, garlic, your favorite coffee, and all of the yellow flowers in the floral section.

He barely had all of the food put away at home when Jake knocked twice on the front door before letting himself in the house. "It's like he fucking lives here," Bradley muttered to Tramp who had been waiting for his scoop of dinner before he ran to see Jeremiah.

"Hey, man," Jake called out. He had Cat's son tucked under one arm and some weird contraption under the other, and he was wearing gym clothes. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, unable to keep himself from smiling when Jeremiah reached out for him. He took the little boy in his arms and told him, "I had to get some stuff for my wife. You remember her. She's your favorite babysitter. She read you some books while you fell asleep, because her voice is the sweetest thing in the world."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Angel made you soft, old man."

Bradley pointed to Jeremiah. "And this little thing made you soft, so you don't have a leg to stand on."

He just kind of shrugged in response and took the child back as he said, "Go get changed. I'll meet you in the garage."

As Jake disappeared through the sliding glass door, Bradley headed to the bedroom. He stripped out of his uniform and put on some shorts and a Top Gun shirt that was starting to fit a little snug across his biceps and chest again. This was a good sign, because he wanted to bulk up as much as possible. He'd be ready to haul the baby and all of the gear around so you didn't have to.

His thoughts were on you and the baby. You. Baby. You. Baby. He couldn't wait until both of you were home tomorrow. When he walked out to the garage, he found Jake doing a few pushups while Jeremiah played with a stuffed tiger while he sat in some sort of portable crib.

"What is that thing?" Bradley asked as he reached for his lifting gloves. "A mini crib?"

Jake jumped to his feet as he said, "It's called a pack 'n play, but yeah, it's kind of a mini crib that folds up."

"Huh," he replied, eyeing it up so he could search online for that kind of thing later. "Looks handy. We're definitely going to need one of those."

Jake was frozen in place, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. "Is Angel pregnant? I knew her ass looked bigger." A grin curled along his lips, and that was when Bradley realized he had fucked up.

"Oh, shit," he muttered as his heart rate sped up and he started to sweat. You were going to be so upset. Your own parents didn't even know yet, but now Jake did, and it was all his fault.

"She's pregnant!" Jake practically shouted. "Congratulations, Rooster," he said, pulling Bradley into a hug and slapping him on the back. "You finally figured out which hole to put it in, huh?" he asked with an absolutely obnoxious grin.

Bradley glared at him. "Seriously. Nobody else knows about this yet. She might murder me if she finds out you know."

"I won't say shit about it," Jake promised, cuffing him on the shoulder before releasing him. "Damn, she must be excited. I know you both wanted this."

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just knowing his face must be flushed pink. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm so fucking happy and scared and nervous, I can barely make it through a day without her here, you know?"

Jeremiah roared and held up the tiger for Bradley. He took it and made it roar back before pretending it was kissing Jeremiah all over his face. His laugh was infectious, and it left Bradley smiling.

"Damn," Jake drawled. "I think you're ready for the parenting thing."

"I know I am," he replied, fixing him with a serious look. "I'm ready."

Jake sighed and nodded. "But you still have a lot to learn. Do you know about outlet covers?"

Bradley's eyes went wide. "No. What are those?"

"How about white noise to help a baby sleep? Do you know what a convertible car seat is?"

"No," Bradley whispered, "No, I don't."

Jake settled back onto the bench and reached for the barbell. "Spot for me, and I'll tell you everything I've learned."

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It was finally Friday morning, and Cat was knocking on your door with another round of food and orange juice before you were even out of bed. When you let her in, she set everything up on the nightstand while you went to use the bathroom, and you were pleasantly surprised that you didn't need to throw up while you were in there.

"Eat as much as you can," she told you. "I asked them to give you a late checkout, so you can stay here until noon, and then we'll head to the airport."

"You're a saint," you told her with a mouth full of bagel. "I owe you so much money for this, you have to let me pay you back."

She just shook her head. "I'll let you babysit Jer so Jake and I can go out one night. Assuming I'm still in a relationship after we get bad to San Diego later tonight."

"You will be," you told her as you sipped the orange juice. "Jake isn't stupid." You paused before you set the juice down in favor of a donut. "Well... he's kind of stupid, but not when it comes to this."

Cat reached into the bag for another donut. "Seriously, if he and Bernie can't figure their shit out, I'll pull the plug and never look at another man again."

"Sometimes they really aren't worth the aggravation," you remarked, thinking back to every guy you dated before Bradley. "But sometimes they surprise you."

She didn't say anything else as she finished her donut. Then she let you take a nap, and when you got up and got dressed, you felt pretty amazing. Your stomach was gurgling quietly, and you looked okay enough to skip the makeup today.

You dragged your suitcase out into the hallway and texted Bradley, letting him know you were going to be heading to the airport soon, and he responded almost immediately.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll meet you in baggage claim sweetheart. i can't wait to have you and the nugget back home with me

You practically moaned, and also started tearing up as Cat met you in the hallway. "When willI I be normal again?" you whispered. "All I want to do is have rough, frequent sex with my husband, but every time I think about how sweet he is, I start crying."

She laughed and said, "You won't feel normal until about six months postpartum. Just have fun running that man ragged."

You nodded and wiped at your tears. "Where's our equipment bin?"

"Already in the car."

"You weren't supposed to move it alone! It's so heavy."

"And you shouldn't be carrying anything like that at all," she scolded, pushing you gently toward the elevators. "I took care of it. I'll take care of it all day, and I'll get your suitcase when we get to the airport, too."

You sobbed the whole way down in the elevator and most of the ride to the airport. When you said thank you, Cat told you to be quiet which made you smile and also cry more. You'd get Bradley to agree to watch Jeremiah for a whole weekend. It would give the two of you some practice, and it would give Cat and Jake time alone. There was no way he was going to mess anything up.

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Bradley parked the red Bronco at the airport with a vase of flowers in the cup holder and an ultrasound picture tucked into the visor. Your flight had been delayed a few times, and he figured you were probably starving now. He picked up the container of peanut butter crackers he prepared and started to head inside, still a little too early but with nothing better to do.

He found an empty bench, and it wasn't long before Jake came strolling in with Jeremiah in his arms. Bradley stood up, jostling the snack container as he muttered, "You're not going to say anything to her, right?"

"Relax," Jake replied as Jeremiah reached for the crackers. "I won't say a word about her being pregnant. You can count on me."

That actually made him feel a lot more nervous as he opened up the container, broke a cracker in half and handed it to Jeremiah. "Okay. Just pretend you don't know a thing about it."

He watched Jeremiah get crumbs all over Jake's shirt as Jake checked his phone. "Sure. Hey, they landed. Cat said they're walking off the plane now."

Bradley checked his phone, but there was absolutely nothing from you, which was really strange. "Huh." He stood there awkwardly as he'd been left out of the loop, handing the other half of the cracker to Jeremiah when he reached for it.

He watched Jake typing one handed, and then he said, "Apparently there was a ton of turbulence. Angel got pretty sick." When he met Bradley's eyes, he kind of shrugged. "Sounds like she's in bad shape."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair until it was sticking up at an odd angle. "What's that supposed to mean? How is she in bad shape?" He looked over toward the partition that blocked off the area he wouldn't be able to get past without a boarding pass while he started to panic. Was he going to have to take you to the hospital or something? The cereal and potato chips he had for dinner started to sour in his stomach as he started walking in that direction.

Then he saw you, and he started running. Cat had her arm around you, and she was carrying your tote bag along with her backpack while you sipped a can of ginger ale through a straw. Bradley could see fresh tears in your eyes as they met his. "Oh, Sweetheart."

"Roo," you croaked, and he closed the rest of the distance to you and carefully took you in his arms. "I was horrible."

Cat took the ginger ale from your hand, and you collapsed against him, a sobbing, shaking mess. "It's okay," he promised you. "You're home now, and I will take care of everything."

You nodded against his chest, and he let you cry. "I threw up so much. I was fine, but then it was really rough, and the baby hates me anyway." You cried harder, and then Jake was there with Jeremiah. He took the container of crackers so Bradley could rub your back with both hands. You hiccupped against him and mumbled, "You can say what you want. Cat knows. She guessed it. Then she took care of me."

Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that someone who had been pregnant before was able to tell that you were now. "Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. He held you close and gave both Cat and Jake a stern look. "Do you want to go ahead and tell Jake?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah," you groaned, leaning toward Jake slightly. "I'm pregnant."

If Jake didn't get Bradley out of this debacle safely, he was going to ban him from the home gym. But he should have known that above anything else in this scenario, Jake was going to have your back.

"Aww, Angel," he crooned as Jeremiah climbed into Cat's arms. "I'm so happy for you, mama." Then he kissed your cheek and winked at Bradley. "You'll be a natural, and ol' Rooster here's gonna be a class act. Now why don't you let him take you home? I can get the bin of your work stuff."

"You sure?" Bradley asked, giving Jake a discreet fist bump as you buried your face against his chest again. You were half burrowed inside his tropical print shirt at this point, and his undershirt was damp; he just wanted to get you home.

"We'll take care of it," Cat promised. "She's dehydrated. Make sure she drinks water or gatorade. And she needs to try to eat something." Jake handed the crackers back to Bradley. "Yeah, those might work, but she really needs to keep drinking."

"Got it," Bradley replied, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, Cat."

"It was my pleasure," she said with a smile as she cuddled Jeremiah.

"Let's go, Baby Girl," Bradley whispered, leading you to get your suitcase as you sipped the ginger ale and nibbled on a cracker. He kept his hand at the small of your back as you sucked in deep breath after deep breath. "I'll get you home and into bed as quickly as possible."

You sniffed and looked up at him. "I just want you with me. That's all I wanted all week."

Your lips quivered, and Bradley leaned in to kiss you as softly as he could. "That's all I wanted, too. I'm not going to leave your side." He kept you right there with him as he scooped up your luggage, and then he had his arm around you until he got you to the Bronco. With a kiss to your perfect cheek, he opened the door, helped you in, and buckled your seatbelt.

"Thanks, Roo," you sighed, eyes closed as you leaned back against the headrest, already looking more serene now that you and he were together.

"I would do anything for you." He stroked your belly with his fingertips. "Both of you."

Five minutes into the drive home, you were sound asleep, your fingers laced with his.

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I can already feel how much calmer she is just knowing she doesn't have as much to worry about with Bradley by her side. And he's going to be so much less stressed with her at home. It's looking like next chapter could be the last one in this series!!!! I'm hoping to do some one-shots for them and then pick up with another series? Please let me know what you'd like to see during and after her pregnancy. And thank you for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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dorianpavus · 10 months

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Panel from Hell Info Roundup

We got a release teaser trailer!

CHARACTER CREATION/CUSTOMIZATION

Character creation got a revamp! More efforts were made to explain things to someone who hasn’t played D&D before, or one who hasn’t played other Larian games. Classes now also have unique animations when you select them.

Choice options now have a corresponding icon, so you can see what you’re selecting.

There are more available faces to choose from.

Dragonborn and half-orcs are playable at launch.

Warlocks are now able to call on their patron for insight and advice.

New sliders have been added for Maturity (adding wrinkles), Freckle Quantity (and intensity), and Vitiligo Pigmentation.

Horn Customization! Now you can change their color and tip color.

There are scar options.

More hair and beard options! As well as more options for hair colors (including greying) to have tri-colored hair.

Strong/buff body types added!

Piercing options have been added.

Heterochromia option has been added.

Dragonborn can customize their face, crest, chins, and jaws. Skin color options include metallic, almost duo-chrome shades. For white dragonborns, there are also pearlescent effects. Dragonborn Draconic Bloodline sorcerers will get a unique scale pattern that changes color based on your ancestry.

There is also a selection for genitals, which they did not elaborate on, but was selected as ‘default.’

You will meet a character that will allow you to reset your class and respec your abilities.

The team went back from Act 1-3 to make the game more reactive to your choices. If you’re playing something odd or unique, the game should react to it.

THE DARK URGE

They are the new Origin Character, and they are avatar-only; they can only be played by you, not recruited.

You can fully customize their race and class.

They do not know who they are; they are waking up, and the only thing they know is “the bile of their liver, the gushing of their blood, and their ruined body telling them: you’re going to kill and kill again.” They are meant to be a dark counterpoint to the story.

Has unique scenes and storylines unlike anything else we’ve seen thus far.

They have dark impulses and thoughts that tempt them; you can play as embracing it or trying to resist.

At 4:36:55, we have some gameplay of them from early on in Act 1.

KARLACH

She is an Origin Character, and you can recruit her or play as her.

Born and raised in Baldur’s Gate, was sold to slavery in the Hells, and managed to break free. She has an infernal engine for a heart.

She’s a barbarian who has a special rage animation/effect.

Curses a lot.

At 5:20:00, there’s a bit of extended gameplay and one of her romance scenes.

OTHER/MISC COMPANIONS

Many of the companions are good-aligned, including Karlach, Halsin, Minsc, and Jaheira. For evil companions, there is Minthara, who you can recruit in Act 2 depending on your choices.

Wyll has gotten a complete overhaul. Much of his dialogue has been rewritten, and he “can go in two directions” much earlier in the story. He wants to kill Karlach at the beginning of the game, and how that unfolds is up to you.

If you kill your companions, you can hire Hirelings. There are twelve (one for each of the classes), and you can customize and respec them.

Companions will join your camp and be able to come with you along your journey; you don’t have to choose between them, but can swap them out as you see fit. If anyone leaves or isn’t able to be recruited, it will be by your own choices or the narrative.

When you’re playing as an Origin Character, you’re not a mystery to yourself. You’ll get unique scenes and information that you may not otherwise get with them as your companion. For instance, when you go to sleep, you might have nightmares about your past.

A scene relevant to Astarion’s backstory was shown at 4:25:57.

ROMANCE

They tried to show “two people genuinely struggling through a hard time and supporting one another. And you’re not going to be the same person in Act 1 as you are in Act 3. Neither is your partner. Your relationship is going to have to grow along with the game’s story.”

At 4:46:10, they have a video where they discuss this and show scenes from the romances.

How you treat your companions will be reflected in how they treat you. Whether they want to be in a relationship with you, whether they leave your party, or even try to kill you -- all depends on your choices.

“Sometimes it’s actually better to have an argument, and challenge your partner about their way of thinking.”

Some characters will happily share romantic partners with polyamory; some of them won’t.

Characters may have very different romantic endings based on what happens during the game and how you treat them or what you did with them. There’s not just one scene that’s the same for all playthroughs.

You can still romance people on “evil” playthroughs, so long as you play your cards right.

Mature content warning! There is a romance scene between Astarion and Halsin that the audience helped select at 5:32:49. Wowza. Worth getting banned from TikTok?

COMBAT

Multiplayer is up to four people, with split screen.

There are 3 difficulty modes: explorer (or easy), default, and tactician (hard). Tactician mode gives enemies base buffs, but also hand-crafted difficulty increases to encounters.

The “brutal AI” from tactician mode is supposed to feel like a DM that is pushing you to your limits, which manifests in ways like attacking your squishier characters, or trying to break casters’ concentration.

At 5:44:28, there’s a video showcase on the Monk class. Two minutes later, at 5:46:13, there’s some combat gameplay showing off monks and the different difficulty modes.

STORY AND CINEMATICS

At 6:00:40, there’s a video showcasing cinematics, with various clips from the game featured (lots of enemies/creatures shown).

They estimate that running through the main story will take about 80 hours, but it can go multiple times that length if you actually take your time and explore.

174 hours of cinematics doesn’t mean you’ll see all of them; it’s more that there’s so many permutations and reflections of the choices that you made, that you might not even see them all even if you play this game over and over again.

MISC

When you go to camp, you are now able to wear “camp clothes” rather than your armor, which can be toggled on and off. You can find various clothes in the world, and apply dyes to them. You can wear them outside of camp if you want to as well.

Cloaks are added.

The devs prefer not to think of this being a story told to you, but rather a story they are telling with you. Though there are many themes, trust is a big one: who you can trust, why you can trust them, and why the world should trust you as well.

There’s an unboxing of the Collector’s Edition at 6:14:26.

There is a very heavy spoiler chunk of gameplay from Act 2, starting at 6:20:42, which closes out the stream!

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #there be some spoilers here! i tried not to include stuff from gameplay #long post #phew that was a doozy

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fannyspammy · 1 year

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Butterflies

Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: Adam has never felt the way he feels when he’s with you.

Warnings: none ! just a lotta fluff on fluff on fluff hehe hence the cheesy title. There aren’t really spoilers i think unless you count the location maybe? Idk it’s pretty general imo

A/N: watched gotg 3 twice over the weekend & im obsesseddd with this man lol. Might make this a series of firsts with Adam if yall would read it 👀 lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[not my gif]

He was built like a man — perfect in every way with his chiseled body & god-like strength — but he had the innocence of a child. And y/n loved that about him. He was the purest person she knew, embracing every new experience & every new discovery with such wonder. And she loved that she got to share so many firsts with him.

Y/n always smiled to herself when she remembered the first time he told her he had feelings for her. Or tried to, at least.

They were sitting in silence on a roof in Knowhere, people-watching. They’d come there every afternoon since meeting after the defeat of the High Evolutionary. Having lived in Knowhere with the Guardians before the attack (his attack, ironically), y/n knew all the spots for when you needed a moment alone, & when they’d met, she could tell he was someone who needed that space to just be.

So she introduced him to her spot, & they’d been coming ever since. But Nebula had needed their help with a few tasks that afternoon, so their daily retreat was pushed later into the evening. By this time, the community was out in the streets, dancing & playing & having fun. Music & laughter filled the air, & the faint scent of liquor presented itself as everyone began to drink the night away. It was getting late & y/n was getting tired, so she scooted closed & rested her head on his shoulder.

Y/n felt him tense at the initial contact, before quickly relaxing and melting into it, laying his head on hers. After a couple minutes he spoke.

“Y/n, I… feel something.. when I’m with you.”

She looked up at him without moving from her position, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Hm?”

“Something.. warm. Tingly? I-I don’t really- how do I- it’s hard to explain…”

Y/n giggled at his flustered attempt to explain himself.

Adam sighed & tried again. “I.. care about you. A lot. But it’s different from the way I cared about my mother. Or Blurp. Like, I want to be with Blurp all the time & hug him & cuddle him, and I want to do the same with you, but in a different way. But I can’t explainhowit’sdifferentitjustknowthatits-”

“Adam!” y/n said with a laugh, stopping his rambling. She lifted her head from its resting place to look at him, amused. “Slow down!”

“See! When you smile at me like that I feel it!”

Y/n bit her lip to restrain the smile spreading across her face, her brows furrowed in thought.

“Can I try something?” She asked. Adam nodded.

“Do you feel it when I do this?” Y/n gently brushed a lock of hair away from his face. He nodded again, slower.

“What about.. this?” Y/n brought her hand down to his shoulder & dragged it down slowly to rest on his chest. She felt his heartbeat quicken.

“I feel it more now.”

Using her other hand, she grabbed his arm to raise it between them, and then placed her hand on his, gently interlacing their fingers. “This?”

His heartbeat quickened again and he nodded. A curious smile spread over his lips.

“I feel it right in my stomach.. almost like it’s.. like it’s fluttering. Like-”

“Butterflies.” Y/n said, finishing his sentence.

Adam nodded again, excitedly, like she’d just solved a puzzle he’d been stuck on for days. “Like butterflies!”

Y/n leaned in closer, resting their intertwined hands in his lap. “Adam, you like me,” she said with a teasing smile on her lips.

“Well yeah, you know I like you. I like most people. Except the ones I need to fight, which used to be you & our friends but now I like you guys.”

She chuckled and pressed her head against the nook of his neck, back resting on his chest, pulling his arm around her, fingers still locked together.

“No, Adam. I mean you like like me. Like, romantically.” She tapped his torso with her free hand. “That’s why you feel all warm and gooey inside when you’re with me, or when I touch you. You having feelings for me. Romantic feelings.”

“Romantic…,” he whispered to himself, then paused shortly. “Do you like me too? In the romantic way?”

Y/n felt his chest tense as his breathing hitched, anticipating her answer. He may not understand his feelings yet, but he knew he wanted her to feel the same way. She squeezed his hand softly in reassurance.

“Mhmm. I like you a lot.”

He eased beneath her & then was quiet for a moment, as if deep in thought, processing the new feeling he had just discovered.

Then he held her tighter, and she felt him smile as she melted into his embrace.

“I like liking you. It feels nice.”

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam x reader #will poulter #will poulter x reader #adam warlock imagine #will poulter imagine #gotg #guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #gotg 3 #gotg imagine #gotg vol 3 #gotg v3

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serpenlupus · 2 months

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About Wyll and his horns

Let's say I was writing a part of my Tav's story with Wyll directly connected to the dialogue he has during the tiefling party, and while struggling with this bit, I've realized there's quite a few misconceptions floating around. I felt compelled to add information to the table that might clear them, so here we go.

First, what exactly happens to Wyll when he disobeys Mizora in act one? Well, he doesn't get turned into a devil, he certainly doesn't get turned into a tiefling, he's not a half fiend, not a demon, none of that. Wyll stays human, but he has horns and red eyes (and other features we can't see on his model as of now).

(Everyone has their race listed, Wyll's remains "Human")

This is because when a warlock fails to uphold some part of their contract they can suffer a certain number of consequences, Wylls is “The character grows horns, a tail, or some other devilish features that can't be removed by any means short of divine intervention. As long as these marks persist the character detects as a fiend when subjected to Detect Evil and Good spells or similar magic.” ( from Baldur's Gate: Descent into Avernus, page 214)

And I’ve come across some people that think it wasn’t so bad of a punishment, that he was being racist towards the tieflings, or just not being justified in being upset after having his body forcibly changed against his will. I think they are missunderstanding just how insidious Mizora’s actions were, and here I just want to give some context to maybe bring a better understanding to the situation. Your conclusions are up to you.

Gonna start by using a not exact analogy, but I think it’s going to make the explanation easier. Stick with me for a minute.

Remember Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean? He had a branded “P” on his arm that marked him as a pirate. A murderer, robber, criminal, etc. in the eyes of the society he was a part of. What did Jack do to earn the branding? (if you don’t know this I suggest you look up the “people aren’t cargo mate” scene) He refused to transport slaves and later freed them, and Beckett had him marked as punishment.

Then, in the first movie, he saves Elizabeth, a woman he didn’t know, from drowning. Right after however, when Norrington sees he has a branded “P”, he’s like “alright, off to jail with you, and then hanging”, no other option crosses his mind. Again, Jack doesn’t know Elizabeth, isn’t indicated to think he is going to be rewarded for helping her, he just sees a drowning person, sees that no one else is going to help, and chooses to save them. That is a pretty selfless/good aligned thing to do, for no other reason that he was the one able to do it, yet the branding in his arm overrides any good action he could ever do, marking him as a criminal for execution and no further thought.

In a way, that’s what Mizora did to Wyll; she forever visibly branded him as someone that has made deals with devils, and that in the world of DnD is a VERY BAD THING. Personally I really like the mod that gives him more devilish features, but at the same time I think there was something clever about choosing to leave him looking more human. He can’t be confused with a tiefling, he doesn’t have the ears, the claws, the tail, all those features that characterize them. He looks kind of uncanny, and that would be like a red flag for anyone in that world. (Beyond the already existing hate for tieflings that I’m not gonna tackle on here because it’s a complicated thing that deserves its own post). And Wyll wants to do good, he wants to help people, to be a positive force in the world so, so badly. This dude got abducted by a nautiloid, got tadpole’d, and the first thing he did right after that was come across the Tiefling refugees and be like “Oh you need help? No worries let me teach you self defense. Oh you being attacked by goblins? Let me blast them real quick”. His way of saying fuck you to all the awful things that have happened to him is being aggressively good and kind. Mizora knows this very well, wants to see him suffer for her amusement, wants to remind him he can't escape her claws, so her choice of punishment was to forever taint his future interactions with mistrust and suspicion. Some people can go real fast from “oh thank God they saved me” to “oh no, are they gonna rob me, are they trying to trick me, are they in cahoots with the ones that attacked me first?” just because of outward appearances. Especially in DnD world. And that deserves its own conversation, but we're focusing on Wyll here.

(Mizora, when I catch you Mizora)

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t have made a deal in the first plac- - “ He was seventeen, alone, preyed upon by Mizora and put in an impossible situation. Please PAY ATTENTION to the story you’re witnesing.

Anyway.

About the tieflings. I know it’s easy to think his words can be derisive towards them, but it’s less about the horns and more about his body being changed against his will. Imagine instead that he got half his face burned, or something that disfigured him. I think his feelings at the moment were closer to that, and yeah they are pretty insensitive words to say to someone with a similar condition (horns or disfiguration), but when feelings are fresh and raw like that it’s easy to say insensitive things. Not saying it was ok for him to say those things, but ther was no malice in his words. I’ve also seen some people share that they think Mizora wanted to change him more to make him unrecognizable to his original self, the Wyll Ravenguard kid, and I think there is some truth to that too. She wants to make sure that Wyll remembers that he belongs to her, there's no question to that.

(MIZORA, WHEN I CATCH YOU MIZORA)

Whether the Tieflings refugees would feel unsettled by Wyll or not? Yes. In a way, they would. From reasons aside from the ones I explained above, remember that these specific tieflings come from Elturel. If you didn’t pass the History check or don’t remember, Elturel is a city that was literally ripped from the land and dragged to Avernus, First layer of hell (it left a hole on the ground and everything) because their mayor made a deal with the Archdevil Zariel some decades back in the timeline. He sold the souls of all its citizens and the city itself.

This was probably one of the worst times of their lives. Some even got captured and forced to participate in the blood War, like Dammon as a mechanic. And after Elturel got returned to the surface, the tieflings lost their homes because they reminded the other citizens of the literal Hell they’d just gone through, and they kicked them out. And remember, they met and saw Wyll as a human, and then saw him with horns. It’s not unreasonable to think that by looking at him they would be reminded of all the events that led them to the awful situation they’re in. Because of someone that was making deals with devils, just like Wyll. Even if his situation is completely different. And Wyll knows that, that’s why he tells you the tieflings are unsettled by him and chooses to stay away during the party.

It was never just about the horns.

And I know Wyll calls himself a devil but I think it’s because it’s the closest thing he looks as; devils are a whole different race with their own intricacies, although humans can be turned into devils ONCE their souls go to Avernus and they start climbing the power hierarchy there (Mizora and Raphael are cambions/ half-devils btw, which is a different thing, there are plenty of videos exploring those details more in depth).

Do I think Larian should have made some of this information clearer/easier to access? Maybe? but to be fair, it's a game focused and dedicated to a crowd that was already somewhat familiar with the source material, that blew up waay out of what they originally expected to reach. Hopefully they’ll add some clarifications like they did to other quests.

Anyway these are my two cents to the conversation, have a nice day, and don't hesitate to add your two cents if you feel like it!

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abrideofdrogons · 5 months

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the discourse for today is "dany stans" are making up that daenerys is magical

when literally

daenerys is azor ahai. ( When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. The bleeding star has come and gone, and Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt. ) daenerys hatches dragons for the first time in centuries & this rebirth is quickly followed shierak qiya, the red comet.

george said it himself: "The whole point of the scene in A Game of Thrones where Daenerys hatches the dragons is that she makes the magic up as she goes along; she is someone who really might do anything."

she spends the first novel having dragon dreams that result in the resurrection of dragons

the warlocks in the house of the undying want to cannibalize her & her magic to become stronger themselves

this entire passage btw:

"Half a year gone, that man could scarcely wake fire from dragonglass. He had some small skill with powders and wildfire, sufficient to entrance a crowd while his cutpurses did their work. He could walk across hot coals and make burning roses bloom in the air, but he could no more aspire to climb the fiery ladder than a common fisherman could hope to catch a kraken in his nets." Dany looked uneasily at where the ladder had stood. Even the smoke was gone now, and the crowd was breaking up, each man going about his business. In a moment more than a few would find their purses flat and empty. "And now?" "And now his powers grow, Khaleesi. And you are the cause of it." "Me?" She laughed. "How could that be?" The woman stepped closer and lay two fingers on Dany's wrist. "You are the Mother of Dragons, are you not?" (ACOK, Daenerys III)

ALSO claiming daenerys is male gaze is so whack when you know damn well she's a genre breaking character

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #pro daenerys targaryen #of course the person who said this is a stansa who ships jonsa

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

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Hi! Could you do HCs for Astarion with a Archfey Warlock!Tav. Since fey are well known for trickery and Astarion is known for trickery at times as well. Thank you :)

Archfeys are god-like Feys seen as deities by their worshippers. They are difficult to kill and often unpredictable. A warlock can form a pact with a Fey patron. The magic bestowed upon fey pact warlocks can be enchanting while retaining the savage lethality common to the Feywild. Warlocks who focused all their attention on dealing with fey spirits might have become one of the feytouched, half-mad spellcasters who slipped between the Feywild and the Prime Material Plane as they wished.

More info

There are many Arcwfeys to choose from (I recommend reading about them, they are insanely cool). I chose Nintra Siotta for the following headcanon - a chaotic evil entity.

Astarion x Archfey Warlock! Tav

You never wanted to be a warlock.

But Feys don't ask, they take.

When you were thirteen, you almost died.

You were comatose for a year and when you woke you had a Fey pact.

You don't remember who made the pact with you. The archfey erased your memories.

You don't know the conditions. The rules.

The price.

Your powers are of a dark and wild nature.

You try not to use them but the Archfey dominates you and make you spell cast against your will.

Adding more and more to the pile of debt you already have.

You search for answers but you know you won't like them.

You are a puppet in the hands of someone evil and chaotic.

The tadpole gives you freedom. It blocks your connection with the Archfey. And you feel free from her never-sleeping eyes.

You know the fear Astarion has - to return to the master. To the master you don't know but whom you owe.

You promise Astarion to deal with Cazador because you hate when people are held against their will.

When you tell him your whole story, he also gives you a promise. He is a magistrate, after all.

He can look at the contract.

The problem is that you don't remember having it.

You don't want to make pacts with the devils and you fear the Emperor and whatever awaits you.

And you decide to contact your patron, to see who it is.

The misty hands drag you to another plane.

Here she is, the Princess of the Shadow Glass, powerful and hateful.

She hands you a list of every spell you've ever used.

With all the debts.

"You are mine, little warlock, and you will do as I say. I saved your pathetic life when you were a child and gave you powers of the Fey. Now, you pay me back by serving me and fighting for me. Your life, your sanity, it all belongs to me."

Finally you have a copy of the contract. The Fey glamour wanes, and you remember that you were forced to sign it to survive.

A scared little child who didn't know the price.

And you are going to get into into more debt.

"Help me defeat the Elder Brain."

Niitra agrees.

She gives you more powers. More dark spells. Agonizing blasts, domination, masks. All yours.

You are pushed back into the Prime and wake up in the streets of Baldur's Gate only to rush into the battle.

You win. You save everyone from their peril. The Emperor is destroyed so is the Brain.

Astarion runs away from the sun in pain and suffering, and when you find him, you promise to save him as well.

But you have your own chains. The Archfey calls upon you and makes you do cruel things.

Killing for her, striking fear.

Astarion reads your contract and doesn't find any loopholes. You will have to serve the Archfey till your days end.

You are doomed to lose your sanity, to be Feytouched.

Astarion promises he will be with you no matter what.

"Do you want more, my little warlock? Do you want to save him? I can make him mortal again, I can let him walk in the sun."

And you agree.

You wake up in some abandoned place without Astarion by your side.

You've spent seven years in Feywild. Another evil trick.

You don't know where to go and what to do. To search for Astarion? But where is he? Did the Archfey keep her promise?

Is he mortal? Can he walk in the sun?

Your sanity is slipping away.

You are Feytouched. A mad warlock.

Even if you meet Astarion, you won't recognize him.

And should Niitra order you, you will kill him on her demand.

The Prime, Feywild, interdimensional places - you go wherever she orders.

You try to grasp your sanity but it slips through your fingers.

How long has it been? A year? A decade? A millennium?

You don't know anymore.

Until one day you're awakened in chains.

A familiar man stands in front of you.

Silver curls, a tender look.

But he has the body warmth of a mortal and his eyes are the color of emeralds.

"Hello, my sweet, it's been a while," Astarion says. "Two centuries, to be precise."

The Archfey kept her promise and made him mortal. But you paid for it with two hundred years of slavery.

"I woke up mortal back then without you by my side. That bitch of yours told me I should go away because you are hers."

Astarion never gave up. He searched for you. Some even thought you were his archnemesis, as he was obsessed with finding you.

Unfortunately, you can't just walk away from the Feys. Nyitra has many enemies, including Titania.

Astarion made a deal with her. Now he is her warlock - and he used his newly found powers to kill the Princess of the Shadow Glass.

To save you. To return your sanity.

"Don't you worry, my sweet, I've made a very fair contract."

You return to the world with him. Free from your chains with him, a mortal elf by your side.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

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djmorn · 3 months

Text

Anniversary

A/N: Kind of a fluffy piece because I was in one of those moods, but there do be smut!

Summary: One year has passed since the defeat of the Absolute, but Tav is in no mood to take part in the festivities organised by Duke Ravengard. To avoid having to make a public appearance as is expected of the heroine of Baldur’s Gate, she steals away, seeking the peace and quiet of her homestead. Unbeknownst to her she is followed by an old friend.

Wyll had followed his father’s speech with some heartfelt words of his own. It had been clear to see that his addressing the citizens of Baldur’s Gate was important to the noble heir and it reflected in his praise of their bravery and promises of a better future. A year had passed since the defeat of the Absolute, not nearly enough time to have healed every wound, rebuilt every building or erased every memory of the losses suffered, but Wyll’s empathetic nature could at least offer some comfort. It was good to see him in action again. Her friend seemed equally talented in the art of oration as he was with the blade and Tav gladly shared in the crowds’ jubilation and applause.

After all was said and done she sought him out, wanting to give her congratulations personally. Wyll graciously thanked her with a smile but was in a hurry to get going again.

‘Maybe we’ll see each other once the proper celebration starts,’ he said. ‘There will be music, hopefully also quite a bit of dancing, and the evening is to be accompanied by fireworks.’

He further ensured Tav of Karlach’s well-being and her apologies for not being able to attend the festivities, then excused himself in turn, having to rejoin his father and indulge him some more in political discussions. Tav understood. She was proud of her friend and how much he’d grown ever since their first meeting back in the Grove. Still, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to, someone she knew.

The once tadpoled party of adventurers had since disbanded, everyone busy with their own new lives. All except her. Tav had occupied her mind and hands by helping to rebuild the city but had found no greater personal purpose for herself. All things considered she appeared to be right back at the beginning: A tadpole-free and utterly anonymous life just as it was with most other citizen of Baldur’s Gate. Well, a few more people recognised her nowadays. Some of them were currently patting her shoulder as she made her way through the crowd once more; they offered their own congratulations, followed by questions if they could expect a speech from her as well. No way, she thought to herself while smiling at them.

Tav did not tell a single soul she was in no mood to make a public appearance. The sadness of her loneliness weighted heavier than ever and her encounter with Wyll seemed to have made it all the worse.

Was she really needed here in the first place? Would anyone even notice her absence? A handful of folks might find it peculiar, but really now: Wyll was able to make up for all of them. And the former warlock himself would be busy enough with all sorts of people seeking his attention tonight. Who was there to dance with her? Or watch the fireworks with? No one really if Tav seriously thought about it. So what harm would be in instead spending the rest of the day far away from the festivities, indulging in the peace and quiet offered by her homestead? Not much really. She would be no more lonelier than here.

The crowd’s attention was drawn towards the podium again as Volo was now occupying it, and Tav took her chance and sneaked off, removing herself from the eyes of the madding crowd and any wonderment at her own, now brimming with tears.

She managed to escape notice of all but one. Against the corner of a quiet alley the devil leaned as he watched the heroine of Baldur’s Gate remove herself from any opportunity to bask in the glory and adoration of the public, leaving Raphael himself rather disappointed: Surely she would have given a more interesting speech than the sanctimonious rigmarole of the Ravengard boy. With keen eyes he watched after her disappearing figure. Was she to go home so soon? And here he had been hoping to pay her a surprise visit, for old times’ sake.

Without clear purpose Raphael followed the reluctant heroine. Maybe a more personal meeting would be preferable anyways, and he might also finally get so see how his little misadventurer lived.

He was lead towards a remoter part of the city. Tav quite obviously preferred a home as best as possible removed from the bustling streets and main gathering places, a realisation very much to his liking.

He watched her approach a multistorey house which offered a nice outlook over the Chionthar river. Good for her.

Tav did not look around before entering her home, and Raphael remained out of sight as she closed the door. He stood were he was a while longer, wondering what he was hoping to gain from an encounter with her. It was clear that the woman was of no mind to entertain the company of her fellow citizens, and he figured she would be even less keen to welcoming a devil into her need for privacy. And yet…

Having never thanked her for the delivery of the Crown weighted on his desire to appear polite and proper, always taking pride in his superior demeanour and charms compared to devil-kin and mortals alike. Raphael remembered he had even proposed a dinner to her as well as the chance to sample from his luxurious collection of wine. Better get this whole ordeal done with as promptly as possible so he could finally check off this pending arrangement. And what better opportunity than the anniversary of her triumph?

The knocking on her door was unexpected to say the least. Why was there still someone besides her not attending the celebration? Did one of her neighbours see her? And if so, why did they take her coming home earlier as an invitation to idle chit-chat and meaningless small-talk?

Nevertheless, Tav got up again with a sigh and approached the door. When she opened it she wondered for a brief moment if this whole day had not been a dream after all.

‘Raphael?’

‘Well, hero. Long time no see.’

‘Um, yes,’ she said, still astonished at the sight of the devil on her doorstep. Why had he come for her? All their dealings had been resolved to mutual satisfaction, with him the owner of an all-powerful crown to rule the Nine to his dark heart’s desires, and her… Well, she had her peaceful little life back, didn’t she? No more tadpole to complain about and a city saved. Raphael had no reason to begrudge her anything.

‘Would you like to come in?’ she asked, fully expecting him to decline. He probably had even more urgent business to attend to nowadays, following his dreams of becoming Archdevil Supreme, and would be loathe to spend any more time than necessary in the mortal realm. His call would be a quick one.

Instead he smiled at her: ‘An admirable display of manners. Thank you kindly.’ And the devil brushed passed her, entering her home.

It was a peculiar thing to have Raphael standing in her living room, taking in his surroundings, the state of her furnishings, and herself. Tav folded her hands uncomfortably.

‘Have a seat,’ she offered, trying to relieve both of them of the tension. She joined him at her small dinner table. ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I thought you would be busy conquering the Hells by now.’

Raphael leaned back with crossed arms, tapping his fingers on his upper arm. ‘I do not expect you to understand these things but overthrowing the Nine requires certain… preparations. And I always plan to perfection.’

How very condescending of him. Nice. Raphael seemed to have not changed a bit.

‘Nevertheless I owe you thanks for bringing me the Crown. It will be put to good use in time, rest assured.’ He started rubbing his chin in thought. ‘I realised I never showed you my gratitude in person.’

Tav shrugged. ‘We had a deal. One we both held up to. As far as I’m concerned there’s nothing left to be said. Although your courtesy is not lost, not even on me.’ Did Raphael not understand the concept of a simple thank-you card?

‘I promised you a dinner.’

‘I did not realise you were being serious about that,’ she said, eyebrows raised.

‘You wound me,’ he said, putting a hand over his chest. ‘It seems you don’t know me at all.’

She regarded him, lost in thought for a moment. Raphael was right: She didn’t know him, not truly. What was he looking to gain from this strange visit? Tav wanted to be alone, not looking to spar with the trying devil.

‘I apologise, Raphael, but I’m not in the mood today.’

‘Clearly. Seeing as you were so eager to flee the festivities, made in honour of your very triumph at that.’

‘The only person there I care about is Wyll… and Volo, I guess. Both of them have far better things to do than mingle with an old friend.’

Raphael looked at her, rubbing his hands together, a wicked smile forming at his lips. ‘Ah, I understand. You miss your friends. Neither of which have made any effort to indulge you.’

She sighed. ‘Correct. Thank you for clarifying it so sympathetically.’

‘And still you are reluctant to indulge me in turn, despite my effort in coming to your realm, spending my precious time with you.’

Was he being serious? Putting himself above her friends who had stuck with her through their adventures, the hardships and all the fighting? Although it did struck Tav like the devil had a point. Whatever his true intentions may be he did still think of her and had indeed come to make conversation.

‘So you are telling me you really just wanted to what? Visit me?’

He shrugged innocently. ‘Why not? I thought you and I had a real friendship.’ And then Raphael snapped his fingers and upon the table appeared a feast for the eyes: A bowl of grapes, both red and green, a plate displaying a finely roasted duck bedded in a field of steaming potatoes, a basket full of baked bread, and even more bowls, some with apples, some with pears, and the two shiniest and beautiful pomegranates Tav had ever seen. In front of her and Raphael two plates had materialised, accompanied by two cups ready to be filled with the wine waiting in the bottle Raphael was holding in his hands. Tav was reluctant to admit it but the wonderful sight and smell of the food made her mouth water.

‘I’m afraid that is all we have room for,’ Raphael said, smiling benevolently. He began to fill Tav’s cup. ‘For a more lavish meal you’ll have to visit my House of Hope sooner or later, little mouse.’

‘You have to be joking. This is a lot more than what I’m used to.’

The devil raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You are the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Pray tell: Why don’t you treat yourself a bit more?’

‘It is as we’ve already discussed: None of my friends are left. What is there to celebrate? We defeated the Absolute and saved the city, our one mutual goal accomplished.’ Tav averted her eyes from his and started filling her plate with food. ‘Now I have to come to terms with the fact that that was not all to be had in life. I will have to find a new quest for that.’

‘Well,’ Raphael said, raising his cup. ‘To new quests and new horizons then.’

‘Yes,’ Tav said, clinking her cup to his reluctantly. ‘And thank you… for the food and drinks.’

‘I always uphold my promises, dear,’ Raphael said as he started to cut one pomegranate and offered half of the fruit to Tav.

They had attacked their meal with fervor and started to fall into more easy conversation, reminiscing in the adventures of the past year. Tav found that talking with Raphael was a lot more pleasant than she would have thought and quietly admitted to herself that his company had turned out to be a welcome one after all.

The sun had started to set, tinting the sky outside a pink shade and from the direction of the festivities they could hear the faint sound of music rising to a pleasant volume to go with their sumptuous repast coming to an end.

Listening to the cheerful melodies being played Tav felt that she dreaded their oncoming departure and just as she’d feared Raphael started to get up, dabbing his mouth and chin with a napkin, but instead of offering his goodbye he extended his hand towards her, a sly smile on his lips. ‘Care for a dance?’

Tav had to stifle a cough. Quickly she held up her hands. ‘Oh, thank you but… I don’t… I don’t think I’m all too good at it.’

‘Well, good thing then that I am,’ the devil said, hand now reaching out to hers, taking it with insistence but also an unexpected gentleness. ‘I will lead you.’

Raphael pulled her up towards him, placing his free hand on her waist. Tav’s skin prickled at the sensation. Keeping true to his word he started leading her through the room, baby steps first until they began to fall into a pleasant rhythm befitting the music.

‘See? It is a lot easier when you have someone to guide you, little mouse.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted, her hand on his shoulder relaxing a bit.

The orchestra fell into a more mellow tune and Raphael adjusted their pace to the softer piece. It was not lost on Tav how he slowly started to pull her closer to him. Their chests were touching now and she thought he’d for sure feel the beating of her heart against him. The devil smiled at the heroine in his arms.

Eventually the music died down and their dancing with it. Soon now Tav would know loneliness again. She never wanted this night to end. But Raphael did not let go of her hand. Instead he started dragging her up the stairs, Tav following silently, letting the devil continue to lead her through her own home. Once upstairs they made their way to the balcony that offered an outlook over the city.

She could hear the crowd cheering and the first firecrackers were set off, drawing her gaze towards the spectacle, but then her face was being grabbed by a set of long elegant fingers pulling her in the direction of her infernal guest. Tav could still see the sparkle of the fireworks in Raphael’s eyes. In their dark brown depths all of the exploding colours appeared a flaming red and she found herself lost in their hellfire gavotte.

Raphael’s lips came crashing down on hers. All too willingly she let herself be engulfed by his embrace, kissing him back with fervor and her fingers roaming through his hair, eyes closed, oblivious to the sight of the lit-up night sky and never even missing it.

Once they pulled apart Raphael’s eyes locked with hers again, mirth clearly visible on his handsome features, his hand still resting on her neck, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. ‘Now I can finally start conquering the Nine.’

He pulled her back inside. Her bedroom. And onto the bed they both landed, Tav’s legs straddling the devil left and right. Their kissing turned more passionate, wilder, filled with hunger. Tav’s heart raced at the sound of Raphael’s moaning and her fingers quickly fiddled with the buttons of his doublet.

As they stripped each other’s clothes off Tav finally found her words once more: ‘I sure am glad you decided to come.’

The devil looked up at her, hair out of place and his chest heaving but the look on his face as smug as ever. ‘Oh, there will be a lot more coming tonight, my dear. Let me assure you of that.’ And his hands grabbed her rear, pressing it to his hips, the tent in his pants rubbing against her nether region. She was already mewling atop of him and quickly went to free Raphael of the rest of his clothing.

Finally their naked bodies tangled around each other and Tav stilled for a moment to take in the sight of him, the devil’s eyes looking up at her expectantly. How could she ever think to turn him away from her home? He truly was her saviour, come again to rescue her from the dull life that had started to creep into her walls, her bones, her mind. She started showering his neck in kisses, her hand roaming over his chest, fingers fondling the fluff of hair, ministrations all spent in the hope of declaring her worship to him. Eternally.

‘Ride me,’ he whispered in her ear. All too compliantly she started guiding his length towards her entrance, already leaking with want, with need. At this moment Tav was willing enough to do anything he asked of her, and still found power in the realisation that now she had become the leader to their horizontal dance.

As his hardened cock slipped inside her she was aware of the ongoing crackle of the fireworks still rocketing into the skies but it was nothing compared to the sound of rapture coming from the man beneath her.

Raphael bucked up his hips, pleading with his body for her to start moving. Following his example earlier, Tav started with a slow rhythm, sinking down on him until her hips were flush against his, his cock buried deep inside her. He groaned at the sensation of her walls engulfing him so sweetly and her name fell from his lips like a prayer as his eyes fluttered shut.

Their mutual rutting was accompanied by the explosions outside but the pair remained oblivious to the celebration, both lost in their own merriment, chasing their pleasure and getting drunk on the sounds of their fucking: The snapping of hips and the delicious squirting coming from Tav’s cunt as it slipped over Raphael’s cock again and again.

She could feel him hitting the right spot over and over and finally Tav moaned his name in ecstasy. Blind from the rush of her orgasm she barely realised that Raphael began to turn her over, climbing on top of her so she now lay beneath him. The devil wasted no time in chasing his own release and started pounding the heroine into the sheets of her bed, its frame creaking dangerously. It did not matter if they were to break it. He would have her again in his own chambers, in every room of his House of Hope and all the beds they would conquer on their way through the Hells. Together they would find their purpose.

These thoughts and the clenching of Tav’s cunt around his length finally sent Raphael over the edge in turn but he found himself unable to stop in his movements, continuing to pump his hips, filling his little conquest with cum, letting her milk her new master for all he had to give her.

Outside the fireworks died down, making way for the jubilation of the crowd, each and every citizen of Baldur’s Gate unaware that they were cheering on the coupling of a newfound hellish alliance.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #my writing #my stuff #can you tell i started writing this around new year's eve?#along the way i got too depressed to finish it sooner #the dawn of a new beginning always makes me sentimental #so apologies if this is a bit angsty and kinda meh #cambion-companion #there’s a part in here inspired by your dirty mind #i’m sure you’ll catch it ;)

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foolishlovers · 1 month

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FAKE DATING FIC RECS: Below you can find a list of Good Omens fics in which Crowley and Aziraphale are fake dating each other. [AUs and non-AUs included]

[Requested by @waitingtobebroken. You can request more fic recs here.]

Tell Your Plants I Love Them by JustJReally (T, 3k) Trying to get over Crowley by going on a date with someone else, Aziraphale reflected, was not a good plan. Agreeing to go on a date with Gabriel, of all people, was an even worse plan. In which Aziraphale is rescued from a terrible date by a knight in shining sunglasses.

My Memory With You by jessikast (T, 4k) “Does anyone there look familiar? I am going to kill Adam, he’s done this on purpose!” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale frowned. “Well, Adam of course. And-“ “Nanny Ashtoreth?” came a disbelieving – and American – voice. “Is that you?” *** Adam brings his boyfriend, Warlock, home for the holiday. Adam figures out that Warlock's nanny and gardner may, in fact, be a certain demon and angel of his acquaintance. Adam has a very, very good idea. In which Aziraphale and Crowley are required to pull on some old disguises at short notice, Warlock is delighted to see his old caretakers again, and Adam's going to pay for this later but right now it's hilarious.

when you take me by the hand by summerofspock, wargoddess9 (E, 9k) Crowley's got a plan for managing his rekindled friendship with Aziraphale. It all goes to hell when he opens his big mouth. ** “I have a rather large favor to ask.” When he is silent for too long, Aziraphale prompts, “And what is it?” “So, my cheer captain was going to ask me out and I panicked and said I was dating someone and when they asked who it was I may or may not have implied it was…you.”

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden (E, 9k) He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel. “Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

Side Mission by KannaOphelia (T, 11k) Some time after Warlock's ninth birthday, Aziraphale and Crowley have realised they made a mistake, and tracked the real Antichrist down to Tadfield. Two years to save the world is more than enough, right? Except everyone keeps assuming they are a married couple, and it's almost too much for a hopelessly in love demon to bear. Especially when Aziraphale suggests they might as well go along with it.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T, 11k) Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

The Arrangement by TawnyOwl95 (E, 19k) Aziraphale and Crowley are set up on a blind date as a joke by their respective housemates. They decide to get their own back and call everybody's bluff by gasp fake dating!

Talk About It by hope_in_the_dark (T, 20k) Aziraphale and Crowley have been best friends for sixteen years. Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale for almost that long. When Aziraphale tells his family that he'll be bringing his boyfriend to his step-brother's wedding, things get a bit complicated. A Fake Dating AU.

Like Best Friends Do by LittleLynn (E, 21k) As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam. At least Aziraphale could usually be relied upon to take pity on him. This was a big ask though, even by Crowley's please-let-me-keep-empty-aerosol-cans-in-your-cellar-it's-nothing-illegal-I-swear standards. This was, without a doubt, a bigger ask than the aerosol cans.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (T, 27k) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

Faking It by bisasterdi (E, 28k) In the immediate aftermath of the Nope-Let's-Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale tentatively begin to move on, hoping Heaven and Hell will leave them alone in the wake of both of their failed trials. Of course, nothing could possibly be that simple. It isn't that Gabriel or Beelzebub have actually figured out how the trials were subverted…but boy, do they THINK they have it figured out. Thankfully, it won't take much to keep them in the dark. (Crowley and Aziraphale just have to spend eternity together, pretending to be in love with each other. All Crowley needs to do is make sure Aziraphale never finds out that everything he's saying and doing is true.)

dearly departed by attheborder (T, 29k) Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?” “Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —” “You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?” *** Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E, 31k) PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples… Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

The Small Ad by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 32k) WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao. It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

In The Shadows Of Our Past, A Flicker by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 36k)

One went to Aziraphale's bookshop to exchange secrets, buy information or simply to use as a safe haven from the powers that be.

One did not go there looking for a partner for a seemingly-innocent mission to a tropical island, stalking a perfectly normal couple. Where unfortunately they would have to pretend they were married. As if that would have stopped Crowley, anyway.

Throw in their mysterious and complicated past, danger lurking from where they are least expecting and Crowley's very naked, very tattooed body that suddenly seems to be everywhere, and you might find them in a situation they are too ineffable to escape.

Or, my entry for the Good AUmens fest for the Fake Marriage prompt, with a hearty dash of Spies subplot.

Green Things Are Flowers Too by summerofspock (E, 60k) “Oh yes,” Crowley said breezily. “This is my husband, Francis. He’s a gardener by trade. We were hoping you might have an opening. An estate such as this.” Aziraphale gaped from where he stood on the stoop, feeling his heart speed up. Husband? Francis? Gardener? He’d never agreed to any of this! ** In which Aziraphale and Crowley pretend to be married while they stay at the Dowlings as Nanny and Francis.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E, 70k, WIP) Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

on the same page by Chekhov (E, 117k) Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less… appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is… until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Curve of Old Bones by Jenanigans1207 (E, 201k) Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

[You can find more fic rec masterposts here.]

#appreciating reblogs sm so other ppl can find these gems too 🥰#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens fic rec #good omens human au #fake dating #aziracrow #aziracrow fic #aziraphale x crowley #go fic masterpost #foolishlovers

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theangelwithawand · 10 months

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Good Omens Incorrect Quotes 5

Still not mine.

Crowley as Aziraphale: *gets set on fire and screams in agony*

Crowley as Aziraphale: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

Crowley: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."

Warlock, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Nanny.

Crowley, not looking up from their coffee: Good morning, problem child.

Aziraphale: Please say words of encouragement to me so I don’t murder someone right now.

Crowley: There are no books in prison.

Aziraphale: *sighs* Thank you.

Aziraphale: Jesus Saves.

Crowley: Passes to Moses, SCOOOOOORE!

Crowley: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

Crowley: If you don't stop talking, I'm going to jump out of that window.

Aziraphale: ...We're on the ground floor.

Crowley: I know but I want a dramatic exit.

Aziraphale: I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Crowley: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

Aziraphale: You don’t have to wear…

Crowley: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

Crowley: So jellyshish-

Aziraphale, laughing: JELLYSHISH!?

Crowley: You know what I meant!

Crowley: What's gone wrong, Aziraphale?

Aziraphale: Hey! That’s one heck of a thing to say to a person. Just because I’m calling doesn’t mean there’s a crisis.

Crowley: That’s technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling?

Aziraphale: Well... There’s a crisis.

Crowley, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks.

Aziraphale: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

Aziraphale: Crowley? What are you doing here?

Crowley, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.

Newt: I’m here for the cult stuff.

Shadwell: How did you find us?

Newt: I saw your ad on craigslist.

Aziraphale: I am in charge of this disaster!

Crowley: I have a name, you know.

Crowley, wiping tears from their eyes: If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, it’s meant to be…

Aziraphale: I’m literally just going to the store.

Crowley: I have issues.

Gabriel: Finally, you admit it! The first step to redemption is accept-

Crowley: With you.

Crowley: *on the phone with Anathema* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit.

Anathema: You’re pulling Oreos apart and saving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you.

Crowley: Maybe.

Crowley: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka.

Crowley: *upends the bottle*

Aziraphale: Sorry, I'm late to the party. I've been doing things.

Crowley, entering in an unbuttoned shirt: I got caught up doing things too.

Anathema: Wow, Aziraphale was late too! What a coincidence!

Aziraphale: You spent all our money on THIS??

Crowley, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

Crowley: Where are you going?

Aziraphale: To get MYSELF a gift cause somebody didn't get me one!

Crowley: I told you I did! Its coming here on Friday!

Anathema, knowing full well that Crowley got Aziraphale an engagement ring: *eating popcorn*

Crowley: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

Aziraphale: You’re drunk.

Crowley: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Aziraphale.

Aziraphale: Do you see yourself as a glass half-full or glass half-empty kind of person?

Anathema: Half-full, definitely.

Anathema: Half-full and constantly rising.

Anathema: Soon the water will escape its container and consume us all.

Crowley: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Aziraphale: AS ENEMIES?!

Crowley:

#good omens incorrect quotes #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #good omens

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vixstarria · 17 days

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Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 2

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Part 1 | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut (not all in this chapter), with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy

Rating: Explicit

Chapter word count: 1,900

Chapter summary: A flashback to how it all began, featuring cosmetics as a charisma modifier, because why the hell not?

Five years ago

The vampire had invited himself into Asmodea’s tent and now lounged, catlike, on a rug nabbed from the druid grove, lazily observing her as she applied her makeup.

The neckline of the ruffled shirt he wore allowed a peek at the ridges of his chest muscles - the overall image was reminiscent of a drawing one might find on the cover of a sappy romance novel. Or would be, had he been less gaunt. The shirt itself was also quite worn, Asmodea noted, and not just from their last few days of travel. Repaired in places, with thread that didn’t even match its colour.

Magistrate my ass, she thought. A common thief masquerading as a noble, maybe.

She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him, though she did find his company amusing.

He certainly had a big mouth on him. …Figuratively speaking. When it came to the literal meaning it was, for all intents and purposes, rather perfectly shaped and sized, she caught herself thinking.

“Now who might you be prettying yourself up for, I wonder,” he purred. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by goblins and gnolls.”

“It adds to my charm even with goblins, I find,” she retorted. “And I don’t see you giving Lae’zel shit for applying her warpaint.”

“Lae’zel was openly glaring at me and trimming a branch into a stake just earlier this morning,” Astarion responded. “She could wear clown paint and a pink tutu, and I wouldn’t question her. No offence, darling, but your lute doesn’t inspire the same level of caution,” he said. “…And I’ve seen how well you aim your spells,” he murmured as an afterthought.

“Is there no one else for you to bother?” she asked halfheartedly, sighing. “Perhaps you could try cozying up to Lae’zel so she doesn’t stake you? She might be interested - I doubt she’s had elf before.”

“‘Had elf’?! You say that like I’m a cut of meat,” Astarion said with mock indignation.

“You present yourself like you’re a cut of meat,” Asmodea shrugged. “With the subtlety of a mallet to the head, I might add.”

“I suppose I haven’t had githyanki either...” mused Astarion. “But no matter, Lae’zel and everyone else are such bores. But you... I sense a kinship in you, my dear. I think we are kindred spirits.”

“Kindred spirits?” she laughed. “A bard and a rogue, the biggest cliche in all of Faerun? You can do better than that!”

“Cliches exist for a reason,” he mused. “Who knows, perhaps destiny has brought us together.”

“Ah yes... I can see it now...” She snickered. “We will adventure together, gambling, thieving and whoring our way through each pub, tavern and inn on the Sword Coast, only to realise that true love had been before us all along.”

“Why of course,” he agreed. “All because at the last inn there will be-”

“Only one bed,” they said in unison.

Asmodea laughed in delight as Astarion smiled.

“Oh you are decidedly adorable!” She teased. “Shall we start a book club? I overheard Wyll and Shadowheart discussing some godawful mermaid erotica earlier, perhaps they’d like to join too.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with that one as well,” Astarion wrinkled his nose. “Too flowery for my taste. Anyway, don’t undersell yourself as merely a bard - you are really a warlock, darling.”

“Only when it pleases me to set someone on fire,” she said, nonchalantly.

“Well... You have been stirring a fire in me since the moment we met,” he said emphatically, leaning forward.

“Ahhh!!! That is absolutely awful!” She guffawed. “I will need to remember to write that down somewhere so I don’t forget. Are you sure you don’t want to give barding a go? You’d be fantastic at it, going by the amount of bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”

“I think this world is a dire enough place without me torturing a fiddle or singing,” Astarion said humourlessly. “But coming back to your ah… skillset and its nature. Should we be expecting any further demonic visits in the night? Might you be in breach of your contract, with everything that’s been going on? Not that little horns and a tail wouldn’t suit you.”

“Why the sudden interrogation?” Asmodea glanced at him with a frown.

“I thought it prudent to ask in advance in case I should expect to be delivered as a blood sacrifice to some demon,” Astarion shrugged.

“My patron is fey. No sacrifices required.” Asmodea went back to her preparations. “The contract is simple: live under the name they’ve given me, provide them with entertainment, receive powers in exchange.”

“...That’s it? ‘Be entertaining’?” his eyes narrowed. “That is the term of your contract?”

“That’s it,” she answered. “They have a particular liking for the absurd, vulgar and violent. Renditions of classical works or poetry recitals – not so much.”

“…No time limits? Penalties? Guarantees? No other conditions?”

“Look, I know it’s a shitty contract, but I was in a bit of a bind when I entered it. Quite literally,” she said defensively.

“It’s awful, darling,” Astarion tutted. “I’ve seen more complicated deals being scribbled down on napkins in taverns.”

“Do I look like a lawyer to you?” Asmodea glared at him.

“No, you look like a foxy raccoon that’s about to devour my soul,” Astarion tried to placate her. “...But quite frankly, you should renegotiate. Let me know if you ever want my help with it, I wasn’t lying about being a magistrate you know.”

Asmodea only scoffed at that.

“My patron’s been practically bouncing with excitement ever since I was snatched up onto that nautiloid - I think the ‘entertainment’ condition is very much in my favour right now.”

Astarion continued to observe her as she began pencilling a symbol on her forehead.

“May I ask why..? I do think it’s rather fetching, but... why?” he asked.

“Why what?” she asked as she concentrated on her reflection, red pencil in hand.

“The symbol in the middle of your forehead,” he rolled his eyes. “Why draw it? Is it for your patron..? But it can’t be, it’s not even the same every day.”

“It’s just for me,” she replied. Meeting his blank stare, she added: “They’re more likely to stay away from you if they think you’re crazy.”

“…Who, ‘they’?” He asked, sounding annoyed.

“Everyone,” she said, simply. “Although it doesn’t seem to work on stubborn vampires.” She breathed a laugh, meeting his gaze, before continuing. “You have some real nerve, you know: propositioning me for sex earlier, and acting like you’d be doing me a favour.” She returned her attention to the mirror. “I meant it, you know. You’re not my type.”

The sheer audacity of the proposal had nearly left her speechless when it happened, though its forwardness was growing increasingly… funny, the more she thought about it. It would have been insulting, had it not been so genuinely candid. The man truly believed that sleeping with him would be a gift bestowed by the gods.

She cursed as she botched and started to erase the symbol with her own spittle for the third time in a row.

“Oh for the love of... Here, let me.” Astarion grimaced, grabbing the pencil from her hand, and sat up, kneeling in front of her. “Hold still... And close your eyes, I’ll retouch them as well.”

She took him up on his offer. How many people could boast a vampire doing their makeup for them?

“What is your type?” he murmured softly as he worked.

“Oh you know...” She replied, pensively. “Tall, dark, burly. Thick beard, tree trunk arms, strong hands. Smelling of woodsmoke. Brutally masculine.”

His fingers felt cool on her skin as he delicately held her chin, drawing lines around her eyes. She sensed a light scent of bergamot and something earthy as he leaned toward her.

Despite herself, she wondered how his lips might feel on hers. Were they cold? Were other parts of him..? Perhaps she would find out, later. After all, why not? Why shouldn’t she add a vampire to her list of lovers?

The pencilwork stopped, but Astarion’s fingers lingered lightly under her chin. Asmodea opened her eyes to see him much closer than was reasonable or necessary.

“Exquisite,” he whispered, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips and back, his index finger slowly running beneath her chin, gently tilting her face upward.

Oh hells no. This was not happening now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You didn’t just draw a dick on my forehead, did you?” she asked.

Astarion blinked, producing a quiet little snort, creases forming around his eyes, adding to the smile that had already been on his lips.

“I thought about it, but then I remembered that you do have a reflection,” he said, leaning back away from her.

She considered his work in the handheld mirror.

“Not bad... Not bad at all,” she said, turning her gaze back on him, with a raised eyebrow.

“I have sisters,” he offered, by way of explanation.

The vampire had a family? Curious.

Astarion continued to linger as she began putting her things away.

“We’ll need something a bit more personal than that pompous name given to you by your patron, if we are to continue to travel together,” he said. “‘Asmodea’ doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. It’s nearly as bad as ‘Shadowheart’.”

“Patron business,” she shrugged. “Don’t ask me why they chose that name in particular. The contract prevents me from even suggesting anything else you might call me.”

“So I’m free to choose a nickname for you myself then? Hmm... Asmodea, Asmodea... The first thing that comes to mind is ‘Assie’,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I will blast you,” she warned, with a glare. “Darling.”

“Shame, it’s all too fitting for your charming personality... What about... Asmo... No. Momo. No...”

She groaned, throwing her head back as though praying to some god for patience.

“No, no... I have just the thing for you,” he smirked.

“By all means, humour me,” she sighed.

He continued to grin at the half-even woman before him, taking in her intricate eye makeup, the symbol drawn on her forehead, the piercings and wild orange-red locs on her head.

“My magnificent wild warlock...” He proclaimed, gesticulating with a theatrical flourish. “My darling little bard... I know who you are.”

She narrowed her green eyes at him as he booped the tip of her nose with his index finger.

“You’re Oddie.”

She clicked her tongue but otherwise said nothing, in annoyed resignation, refusing to admit she kind of liked it.

Wyll ducked into the tent.

“We’re ready to go.” He gave Asmodea an apprehensive look before continuing. “Do you have any kind of plan for how we’re going to handle this..?”

“My plan is to wing it,” she replied. “Just follow my lead, I’ve dealt with the fuckers before.” She turned to Astarion, getting up. “Come, ‘kindred spirit’. We’re infiltrating a goblin camp.”

Astarion made way to his tent to grab his own gear, pleased with the progress he’d made. Oh, this quaint little creature could continue to feign disinterest for a while longer – she would do exactly what he needed her to, in the end. There was no rush – he had days, perhaps even weeks, to reel her in – not the mere hours he was accustomed to. What a luxury.

In the meantime, though he was almost loath to admit it, this little game was... kind of fun.

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @asterordinary

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x asmodea #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #bloodbang chronicles

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maegalkarven · 5 months

Text

Again back with the point what Gortash enforces his narrative while Ketheric and Orin are the captives of it.

It think it can be easily melted down to if they're satisfied, deep down, with how things are going for them (aside from the Dead Three plan falling. Imagine what it's not falling apart)

I don't think Orin actively thinks of her feelings and her intentions; she is in the never-ending chase for Father's love while knowing down well how much his disapproval and punishment hurts. And she is locked into that position without any way out, doesn't even consider a way out because it's all she has ever known and all she knows there to be and matter. But it's not happy or satisfying existence, Bhaal has no worshippers, only victims.

Ketheric got what he so desperately craved: Isobel is back.

And it's almost as if nothing else matters now. He is a lost man, someone who was good and kind and righteous once, and some part of him remembers this man, remembers the man his wife fell in love with, and hates who he has become. He would do anything Myrkul told him to for Isobel, because Myrkul brought Isobel back. But is he happy? Is he satisfied? Absolutely not. He is Tired. He is the man just waiting to die.

Gortash loves his evil plans and his machinations and he loves his genius and his Steel Watch and all the manipulations he pulls of. It makes him feel clever, better than everyone else, it makes him feel in control of everything, like he truly solved life and everyone else is just clueless a clueless senseless mass of bystanders.

He likes innovation and technology, power and control; and he likes combining these things together.

The only part what's missing is an equal to bask in his glory. The perfect equal candidate was Durge, but Durge is gone (if not played as origin), but some wandering adventurer who managed to defeat Ketheric will suffice, they show promise.

He isn't remorseful, isn't trapped, everything is going according to plan (imagine what it does and the Elder Brain doesn't beat him up to it). He doesn't even feel fear. (I believe he was controlled by that feeling for the majority of his young life, absolutely hated it and got himself a cloth of authority to Cancel This Damn Emotion Forever)

He might be lonely, deep down, he is clearly resentful towards Raphael, the warlock who bought him, and his parents, and everyone who has ever wronged him. But he'll get to them, or already got to them. He loves exactly three things: himself, his inventions and his empire.

Someone by his side is a nice bonus, but it's not the requirement.

#ketheric thorm #orin the red #enver gortash #lord enver gortash #like he is such unremorseful bastard I love him with my whole heart #truly said “noone but me matters actually” and acted on it #I also believe he would profit greatly from some fucking human connection #get attached idiot *throws Durge into his face*#get absolutely destroyed by caring for someone other than yourself *takes Durge away and tadpoles them*#how do you like that huh??? HUH? try working with Orin now #oh and if Durge is ever coming back they'll not recognize you. Does it sting huh? does it???

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aziraphales-library · 3 months

Note

Hi do you have any love triangles with Aziraphale in the middle?

Here are some fics that involve a bit of a love triange scenario...

You and only you. And oh yeah him, too. by AnnaTheHank (E)

Aziraphale figured that things between him and Gabriel were done after the trials. But clearly Gabriel thought otherwise. Aziraphale has to come to terms with the fact that he has feelings for both Crowley and Gabriel, and that there may be a way to get all that he wants.

Scam Boyfriend by ElderlySardine (E)

Crowley has loved Aziraphale for as long as he can remember - since they were small boys in short trousers, walking to primary school together in sleepy Tadfield. And Aziraphale loves him, too - they are still the best of friends, even 44 years later. And if Crowley secretly wishes that they could be more than friends... well, that's his problem, and he's dealing with it. He loves things just the way they are. But then the unthinkable happens, and a new love interest enters Aziraphale's life. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Crowley soon begins to fear that Gabriel may not be all he seems...

On The Side by FeralTuxedo (E)

Aziraphale is far too pure of heart to be anybody’s bit on the side. Or so Crowley thinks. But when his friend starts seeing walking red flag Jim, with his dodgy smiles and mysterious past, Crowley does everything he can to protect Aziraphale from disaster. His own heart might just end up being collateral damage.

Love, Syncopation, and Other Key Elements of Jazz by feathereddino (T)

The jazz duo of A.J. and Fell are an unstoppable force well into their mid-twenties, but when Crowley's illness causes the pair to step back from the spotlight, an enterprising music manager scoops up Aziraphale's career. Dazzled, Aziraphale will abandon all of his former life to be Gabriel's perfect star but lose himself and his happiness along the way. It would take a very steady and forgiving heart for someone to love him through it all... (An ode to that ridiculous hat that Michael Sheen wears... seriously, that's where this came from.)

come on darling, let's be lovers by shoebox_addict (E)

“I love the waistcoat.” The man beamed at him. “Thank you. I know it’s a rather old-fashioned style, but it makes me feel put together for the day.” “Makes you look put together, too,” said Crowley, and nearly bit his own tongue. “I mean, that is...you always look very nice.” Now it was definitely not his imagination; the man’s eyes were practically twinkling.

It Was Always You by mltrefry (T)

A chance encounter during one of the worst times of Ezra Fell’s life reunites him with his once best friend and the one who got away. Though, that would imply he ever had him in the first place. Anthony Crowley and his son, Warlock, relocate to the quieter city of Tadfield from that of London. In the process, manages to find again that one person who always made him feel less alone, the one person he was pretty sure he was never going to speak to again. But the road to true love never did run smooth (something that’s been true from their very beginning). Despite the easy way they fall back into each other, their lives don't seem to follow suit, and if it's not one challenge its another. But despite everything they find themselves facing down, the ten years without each other taught them one thing: they’re better together than they are apart.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale/gabriel #love triangle #human au #adult omens #mod d

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fannyspammy · 11 months

Text

Indestructable

Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: Adam tells y/n he loves her for the first time

Warnings: none! starts a little heated but then becomes just a lot of fluffy fluff fluff

A/N: sixth part to the Firsts series! Another fluffy piece before I get back into the spicy stuff :) If you haven’t read the previous parts yet, my masterlist is here! (Can be read as a oneshot tho!) Also, to those who have made requests, I have seen them & will be working on them ASAP! :)

Taglist: @spderm4nnnn @nocturnest @joeysjaskier

[not my gif]

“Are you insane?!” Adam yelled at y/n. She was surprised at first — he’d never yelled at her before — but her shock was quickly replaced by anger.

“Me?! What about you! I had it under control, but you almost got yourself killed!” She shouted back.

Adam crossed his arms across his chest, his muscles taunting her as he did. “No, you almost got yourself killed. I’m practically indestructible.”

“Adam, I’m fine! But you had to go and get yourself hurt!” She gestured toward the gash across his side. It was big and bleeding, but Adam seemed barely affected — maybe because or the way he was engineered, or maybe because his anger was masking the pain.

“Only because I saved you! But what if I hadn’t been there, y/n? What if I didn’t see that knife hurtling toward you?”

“Well then.. I-”

“Then you would’ve gotten hurt! This is just a scratch for me, but for you this could’ve been fatal. So just stop arguing with me! You know I’m right. God, you’re lucky I love you or I might not have been paying attention. Hell, if that was Groot or someone else I would’ve been too focused on the guy that was shooting at me to have even-”

“Wait, stop.”

“What?”

Y/n pulled him into a kiss, her grimy hands tangling into his golden head of hair. Adam’s fury immediately dissipated into bliss, and he bore a confused smile on his face as she pulled away, his eyes searching hers.

“What was that for?”

She smiled at him smugly. “You said you love me, you idiot.”

His golden hue began to bronze as he blushed. “I-I did?”

“Mhmm.”

Adam stuttered, unsure of what to say next. “Oh- well I- I guess- I mean I just-”

Y/n brushed a strand of hair from his face, amusement playing on her lips as she teased him, her mouth hovering centimetres above his as she looked up at him through hooded eyes. “Say it again.”

Adam swallowed, nervous now that he was aware of what he said. He may be practically indestructible, but with her? He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, in a way that challenged him more than any foe he’d ever faced in the battlefield. But the nervousness melted away as he looked into the eyes of the woman before him, not a hint of hesitation in his mind or his heart.

“I love you, y/n,” he said softly, and as she smiled her beautiful smile, he was never so sure of his words.

“I’m sorry,” Adam continued. “I don’t like being angry at you. I don’t like yelling at you. I don’t like how it makes me feel.. but I also don’t like how almost losing you makes me feel. The thought of.. of this… the thought of never seeing you smile at me again.. I get scared.”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” Y/n placed a hand on his cheek and tiptoed to kiss his forehead gently. “You’re not gonna lose me, okay?”

She took his hands in hers and leaned in so she could place a peck on his lips. “I love you, Adam.” He stayed quiet but she saw his eyes light up at her words. “And that is indestructible. Thank you for rescuing me, but you don’t need to worry so much, okay love? I’ve been doing this a long time- I’ll be okay.”

He pulled her into a hug and nodded against her neck before kissing it, hastily peppering his affection over every inch of skin available to him — her neck, her collarbone, her jaw, her hands — and she giggled at his eagerness.

“Ahem.”

The couple turned to see Rocket standing a few feet away, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Drax and the other Guardians lingered a few feet behind, and that’s when they realized their entire moment had an audience. The raccoon’s face said disgust, but the two could read the amusement in his eyes.

“If you two lovebirds are done sucking face, smashing booty, et cetera, we got a few hostages to deliver. Think you can keep it in your pants long enough for that?”

Adam and y/n looked at each other and then back at Rocket.

“Aye aye Captain!” They said with a mock salute, followed by childish giggles. The raccoon rolled his eyes as he turned around and the crew followed.

#gotg 3 #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #adam warlock #gotg v3 #guardians of the galaxy #gotg vol 3 #marvel #mcu #gotg #will poulter #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock smut #adam warlock imagine #will poulter smut #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader #gotg imagine

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unreadpoppy · 5 months

Text

An heir is born

Raphael x Gwen

The sequel to this.

A/N: Not my best but today was bad brain day, so i'm glad i was able to finish it. Finally, actual, dad!phael.

tags: @bg3fan

Someone had smacked Raphael on the chest while he was asleep.

Hard.

He sat in a hurry, looking around the room, worried that someone might have entered and tried to attack him.

Instead, when he turned his face, Gwen was standing next to him, holding her belly.

“What happened?” He asked, a frown on his face. He covered her hand with his.

“The water broke…” She whispered.

In the months leading to the delivery, Raphael had spared some time to read upon childbearing, including labor. Although he knew that any child he produced would be a tiefling, a very small part of him still worried that they would come out as he did - murdering their mother.

And so he was ready for this moment. Raphael quickly stood up and called Korilla.

“Yes, master?” She asked in a tired voice.

“Go call the midwife.” The warlock nodded and left. Raphael held one of his wife’s hand and placed the other on her back. Together, they walked out of the room, and slowly went to Gwen’s old chambers.

“Remind me why you can’t just snap us away?” She asked, hissing.

“Walking will help put the child in the right position.”

“Hmpf.” Was all she could reply. Eventually, they arrived in the room, and he helped Gwen sit down on a rocking chair.

They stayed there in silence, the only sound in the room being Gwen's breathing. Raphael paced around, not sure what to do with himself.

“Are you alright?” Gwen asked.

“I should be the one asking you that.” He replied. She chuckled.

“I’m managing, but your pacing around is making me nervous.” Raphael walked towards her and she held one of his hands, and kissed his fingers. “Everything will go well, my love.”

“I know.” He sighed. He didn’t want to worry or care about this as much as he did, but the thought of either of them dying put some fear into him.

Raphael was taken out of his thoughts by the arrival of Korilla, alongside the midwife. The woman was also an old dwarf and she had brought along her assistant, an elven maiden.

The women explained how things would go on from now and politely asked Raphael to leave.

“No.” He said.

“Sir, please understand that it would be better if you stayed outside.” The elf tried to reason. Raphael took a step back and placed a hand on Gwendolyn’s shoulder. Before he could rebuke, she spoke up.

“I think they’re right, Raphael.”

“What?”

“Look, things are going to get messy, and we all know how you don’t like chaos. Besides, I don’t want you hovering around these ladies and trying to bark orders at them if anything went slightly wrong.” She told him.

“Are you sure?”

Gwen nodded. “I promise they’ll call you as soon as the baby arrives.” He sighed but obliged.

Raphael waited outside, to what felt like hours. He even had time to change his clothes. As he heard the screaming from inside, he couldn’t help but want to barge in and see whatever the hell was going on. But, alas, he remained outside.

After only the gods knew how long, the screaming stopped and the door opened. The elf smiled at him. “Come in.”

He walked past her, looked at Gwendolyn. She was still sitting on the rocking chair, though by the look of where the blood was, she had not given birth there. Her purple hair clung to her sweaty forehead. In her arms, she held the babe, who was wrapped in cloth. She gave the child a tired smile.

Raphael walked towards them. “It’s a girl.” She said, in a raspy voice. Gwen raised her arms towards him, and he was able to take a better look.

The girl’s skin seemed to lean more on Gwen’s color, pink. She didn’t have much hair, so they would have to wait to figure out the color. He could see two small stumps on her forehead, that one day would grow into proper horns. She was asleep, so later he would figure out the color of her eyes.

With a careful finger, he gently rubbed her cheek. “Have you thought of a name?” He asked Gwen. They had discussed names previously but hadn’t arrived at a conclusion.

She nodded. “I think… something to homage my mother, without giving her the same name. Maybe…Natahlia.” She paused for a moment. “I know it’s very human sounding but-”

Raphael interrupted her. “If that is what you wish, then Natahlia it is.”

…

It was late at night. Gwen had finally put Natahlia to sleep. The two weeks since her birth, the girl had been very vocal. Because of his duties as Archdevil Supreme, he hadn’t had the opportunity to spend as much time with his newborn, which caused a conflict between him and his wife, who was stressed from taking care of the child.

Due to that, when Natahlia suddenly began crying, Raphael told Gwen to stay in bed while he walked towards the crib.

Now that it had been some time since she was born, some of her features were slightly different. For once, her skin had darkened to a more red, raspberry color. She was a big baby, with chubby cheeks, but he could already tell she had his nose. The small tuft of hair she had was a dark shade of purple.

He picked her up, shushing her. She kicked her little legs, still crying as he rocked her up and down.

“Shh…you have to go back to sleep, little lady, before your mother awakens again.” He whispered to her. “You have a grand legacy to carry on, my heir. But do not fret, under my guidance, you’ll do great things.”

She began to calm down, looking at him with big eyes, which were both blue, the same shade as the one blue eye Gwen had. Most lords would have preferred a boy, but he had secretly wished she’d be a girl, one that would be as beautiful as her mother.

He smirked and began to lower her back on the crib. Once he fully settled her down, she started to cry again. Raphael sighed and gently rocked the crib.

“Maybe you’ll prefer a song.” He said, putting a finger on her wet cheek. “How was that one your mother sang?”

He thought for a moment, remembering the lyrics and began. The lullaby had been originally written in infernal, which was how he sang it, but the translation to common was this:

The carnation fought the rose

Underneath a balcony

The carnation left hurt and the rose shattered

The carnation got sick, and the rose visited him

The carnation fainted and the rose started to cry

It was not one he particularly enjoyed much, but it got the job done, and soon, Natahlia was fast asleep again. As he looked at her belly gently raising and falling, he couldn’t help but genuinely smile. His legacy would live on.

#raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x gwen #oc: gwendolyn gray #dad!phael #my writing #baldur's gate 3 #not tav #also i might take some time to post it on AO3 due to somethings that have happened

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