#bg3 poly

The new grove buzzed with life. The children ran and played, the air filled with laughter and the occasional scuffle over who got to carry what for the workers constructing Halsin’s vision of a sanctuary. Shadowheart stood by Halsin, a calming presence among the organized chaos, as she gently coaxed a particularly skittish goat into eating from her hand.

"Careful with the goats," she said with a smirk. "I think this one’s smarter than the kids."

Halsin chuckled, glancing at her with a warmth that spoke of the deep bond you all shared. "I think they’re learning from each other."

Their conversation was cut short by a high-pitched squeal of excitement coming from one of the meadows. Both turned, brows furrowed, before exchanging a knowing look. The source of the commotion was obvious.

"Do you think—" Shadowheart started.

"Yes," Halsin said with a sigh. "Let’s see what they’ve done this time."

They made their way to the meadow, where a surprising and chaotic sight awaited them. You were in the middle of a small field with the now fully grown owlbear cub. The massive creature was playing gently, letting the children climb on its back, nuzzle into its feathers, and laugh as it rolled over with a deep, purring growl. You, glowing with delight, stood proudly in the middle of it all, showing off the owlbear to the children like an eccentric parent introducing their newest family member.

“Come on, take turns!” you were instructing the kids, guiding them to pet the owlbear’s thick feathers. The owlbear, now a fully grown adolescent with a playful energy, squawked happily as the children giggled and squealed.

Halsin and Shadowheart stopped in their tracks, exchanging a look.

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Halsin said with a quirk of his brow.

“I don’t remember being consulted,” Shadowheart muttered, though her lips twitched upward.

The children, ever sharp, noticed them first. One of the older boys leaned over and stage-whispered to the others. “Uh oh. Someone’s in trouble.”

The group of children burst into a chorus of delighted “ooooooo” noises, drawing your attention. You turned to see Halsin and Shadowheart standing at the edge of the meadow, arms crossed, expressions amused but clearly expectant.

“Oh no,” you said dramatically, throwing your hands to your forehead like a performer in a tragedy. “The council has convened.”

The children giggled even harder as you trudged over toward your lovers, dragging your feet and muttering mock laments. “If the owlbear must go, then so must I. It’s been good knowing you all.”

Shadowheart couldn’t keep a straight face and snickered. “At least there’ll be more room in the bed.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in feigned betrayal.

“How could you, my love?” With an exaggerated wail, you turned on your heel and collapsed against the owlbear, burying your face in its feathers. “Goodbye, sweet world.”

Halsin pinched the bridge of his nose, though his laughter rumbled like distant thunder. “Stop being ridiculous and let us say our piece.”

Still leaning dramatically against the owlbear, you peeked out. “You may speak, Wise Druid.”

Halsin shook his head, smiling. “Of course the owlbear can stay. This grove is meant for all creatures seeking refuge.”

Your eyes lit up, but you quickly looked to Shadowheart for her verdict. Before you could even ask, she was already cooing at the owlbear, pointing out a shady patch near her section of the camp.

“You’ll like it here,” she told the creature. “There’s space, and I’ll make sure the children don’t feed you anything they shouldn’t.”

Beaming, you threw your arms around Halsin first, kissing him firmly, and appreciatively before spinning and grabbing Shadowheart kissing her deeply. Behind you, the kids groaned in unison.

“Gross!” one of them shouted, as others kept gagging and complaining that their eyes were burning.

“Oh, come on!” you called back, breaking away to grin at them. “That’s nothing compared to what I’ll do later.”

The collective shriek of dismay from the children sent you, Shadowheart, and Halsin into fits of laughter. The owlbear, as if sensing the celebration, let out a joyful squawk, its feathers fluffing up as it nuzzled into your side. The meadow buzzed with life, love, and joy, as the three of you stood together, reveling in the world you’d built and the chaos that made it perfect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was actually so fucking fun to write omg, definitely one of my new favourite pairings. Hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

Halsin nagging Astarion about his well-being and Astarion getting prickly about it. The Druid is really starting to push his buttons, riling up the vampire’s temper because how he dare he suggest that a bit of rest, a bath in the stream, and a warm meal might help him feel better? Astarion’s coping mechanisms are just fine, thank you very much.

“Why, of course I’ll do as you say, dad.”

It’s meant to be scathing but it makes Halsin’s expression soften with curious interest, taking Astarion by the waist and bringing him close.

“I don’t mean to push you, little one,” he hums, kissing the vampire’s forehead, brushing his hair back, lips finding his ear. “Would you like me to take care of you instead?”

Halsin’s question is as sweet as it is erotic, an open-ended offer that Astarion can take a run with in any direction he’d like. It’s a little overwhelming and words fail him, but he wants Halsin to keep touching him, to keep talking to him like that. It makes him feel small and delicate and safe, Halsin pulling him closer and stroking his lower back, peppering kisses all over his face until he can’t possibly maintain that pout a second longer.

“Good boy, always such a good boy for me,” Halsin babbles against his neck at some point when Astarion rolls his hips forward, grinding against his thigh. He encourages him along with kisses and low whispers of praise until the vampire is outright rutting into him, chasing his relief with labored moans.

“That’s it, come for Daddy.”

Shadowheart knows exactly what she’s doing, but doesn’t quite have the language to describe this particular kink of her’s. What she does know is that Halsin is a brutally doting lover and he encourages her to relax into that submissive space, to let him care for her and reduce her down to something small and helpless.

He’s holding her against his chest, thighs spread over his lap and soaked cunt stuffed with him. Halsin’s hands stroke tenderly through her hair, lacing the unbound locks into an intricate braid while she mewls and weakly rocks her hips.

“Hush, sweet girl,” he chides, “hold still until I’ve finished.”

Shadowheart whines but her squirming does stop as she leans forward, pressing her face against the muscle of Halsin’s chest. Her hair slips from his fingers and he huffs with annoyance at the loss of his place in her braid, but he’s quick to return to the task at hand. Always so calm and collected, it makes her want to rile him up even more.

“Are you almost done, Daddy?” She asks, voice innocent and small against his skin. She can feel his cock twitch where it’s buried inside her, feel the pleased groan reverberating through her body.

“Oak Father, preserve me,” he mutters, losing his grip on her braid once more, his hands circling almost entirely around her waist, “I am nowhere near being done with you, little dove.”

Karlach, though much smarter than most give her credit for, can be incredibly oblivious to innuendo and lacks a basic verbal filter. If it comes to her mind, she will say it without much consideration for double meanings or potential interpretation. So, when they return from a very successful mission, indulging in some celebratory wine and a bit of cuddling around the campfire, she speaks without thinking.

“Y’know, you’re some real solid Daddy material, big guy,” she’d remarked, clapping a hand on Halsin’s shoulder.

A stunned shock passed over the rest of their companions, her statement silencing the buzz of conversation. Astarion gawks at her from where he’s sprawled over Halsin’s lap, Shadowheart is biting back a wine-drunk remark, and Gale goes entirely red in the face, hiding against a stunned Wyll’s shoulder.

“What? You all saw how well he did with those pipsqueaks,” Karlach continues, looking to Halsin for reassurance that she hadn’t said something egregiously offensive by referencing his skill in soothing the group of scared children they’d encountered.

The tension breaks when Halsin laughs, rich and warm, readjusting his arms around Astarion’s waist.

“I do have some experience fulfilling that role,” he agrees with a hint of that gorgeous, wholesome grin stretching his features, “isn’t that right, little one?”

Astarion stammers, at a loss for words, cursing the way his face heats up with the remnants of his feeding, a generous helping of Halsin’s blood yesterday with a side of Wyll to tide him over just before their mission.

“Daddy asked you a question,” Shadowheart chimes in, her tone taunting and utterly bratty, unbidden and flushed by the wine she’d drank, “you really ought to answer it.”

Karlach only really begins to put the pieces together when Shadowheart worms her way into Halsin’s lap and their evening of celebration devolves into the cleric and the vampire taking turns choking on the Druid’s cock. She’ll ask Gale about it later, and he’ll spend an hour explaining to her the sexual implications and eroticization of the simple familial term.

“Is it the same for… other words?” Karlach asks, serious as a scholar. She’d taken to calling herself Mama in a joking, unserious way, but she’d noticed her goofy remarks along the lines of ‘come give Mama K some sugar’ always seemed to have an effect on Shadowheart.

“There are some who enjoy referring to their partner as Mommy or variations of it, or being called such by a partner—“ Gale starts and Karlach burst into laughter.

Halsin, meanwhile, is far too relaxed for this kind of intellectual self-torture. When Celeste vanishes into her own mind, he simply reaches for her.

7 Who likes forehead kisses? Who likes hand kisses? Who likes neck kisses?

Answered here

Spoiler: Everyone loves forehead kisses.

22 What is something - either character - doesn't like about the other?

Gale loathes Celeste’s chaos. He has a system for everything: notes stacked at precise angles in the correct order, spices alphabetized or sorted by elemental correspondence, clothes folded the same way every time, books arranged by subject, author, and occasionally emotional significance.

Celeste… does not. She clears floor space by shoving things into whatever corner or cupboard is closest. If it’s off the floor, it’s “tidy.”

In turn, Celeste is equally irritated by Gale’s need to control every inch of his environment. His constant reorganizing, his fussing, his insistence that there is a “correct” place and method for everything

With Halsin, the friction is different. Celeste is often bewildered — and increasingly frustrated — by his deep, immovable sense of duty. Especially when he sacrifices his own well-being for it. She can’t wrap her head around the way he prioritizes everyone else so fiercely, even when it hurts him.

48 If they ever had less that 5 mins to tell their S/O something before never seeing them again, what would they say?

Well, luckily for you, I have written both options.

Celeste's letter to Halsin

Halsin,

by the time you read these words, I will be gone.

I will have traded my life for yours. A fair trade—perhaps the only one I have left to offer.

You deserve nothing but gentleness.

Slow mornings beneath a canopy that keeps the rain at bay. Sweet tea, warm pastries, and all the honey your laughter may ever ask for.

I am sorry I will not be beside you when you wake.

Please know that I accepted this truth long before I wrote it.

Please trust that I chose this freely.

Orin touched you because of me. That is my failure, my fault, my burden alone.

I should never have asked for your help in this matter.

You should never have stepped foot in this city—this place of stone and smoke and old ghosts.

You belong to the wild. To wind and roots and the quiet pulse of the earth.

Not here. Not with me. Not in a place that eats its own and calls it survival.

I am so terribly sorry.

Sorry for bringing you into this.

Sorry for accepting your help for all the wrong, selfish reasons.

The truth is simple and shameful: I could not face what lays ahead without you. I could not imagine a future where you walked a path that doesnot run beside mine.

The idea of you choosing a life that did not include me… I could not bear it. I still cannot.

I have loved you, Halsin, from the moment you transformed before me in that wretched dungeon.

Bloodied and tortured, yet unbroken. So impossibly beautiful that I could look nowhere else.

I think I knew then, what you are to me. What you have always been.

You are part of me — in some quiet, cosmic way I cannot explain.

As though the world wrote your name into my blood long before I knew my own.

I have loved you fiercely, desperately, and always in silence.

Because I am too afraid. Too afraid of your eyes, your gentleness, your truth. Too afraid to hear your verdict.

You know what I am.

You know what it means.

You understood it before I dared to.

Thank you for never pressing. Thank you for granting me that mercy.

To be judged by a man as wise and gentle as you is something I could never face.

I know I am not worthy of you—of your warmth, your steadiness, your kindness, your loyalty.

I know this.

I accept it.

But in the weeks we shared, in your presence, in your laughter, in the way you looked at me when you thought I did not see...I allowed myself to dream.

To dream of being yours.

To dream of deserving the love of a man as radiant, as wild, as gentle as you.

To dream of a little more time.

I wish I could tell you all this myself.

I wish I were brave enough to stay and tell you all of this. But I must leave before the others wake and understand what I am about to do.

Forgive my cowardice.

Forgive the words left unspoken.

Forgive me for loving you so deeply, so wholeheartedly and hiding it until the very end.

Celeste