infatuation ☾ bg3 writings

gale discovers he might have a daddy kink

anonymous asked: daddy kink? embarrassed gale?

Gale might just lose his mind.

It's Tav – lovely Tav – who just can't help but test every ounce of patience and control that Gale is capable of today. It all started when they began their exploration of the blighted village that had been occupied by a never-ending horde of goblins and ogres. And if the arrow that had whizzed past his skull when he'd taken his first few steps past the border wall hadn't been enough to set his nerves on fire, it had to have been when Tav failed to disarm a simple trapped chest in one of the crumbling cellars simply because they "wanted to try their hand at it." Their rogue had been there the entire time (more than a safe distance away, understandably) and had nearly allowed Tav to blow themself up before Gale was forced to intervene at the last second before the thing actually went off. He hadn't meant to yell at them, they were simply trying their hand at an amateur skill, but he'd certainly given them quite the talking-to about allowing Astarion to handle traps from then on out.

"I appreciate your concern, Gale. I really do. But you don't have to scold me for it as if you're my father," they'd said.

And that had been the end of that.

Except it hadn't.

Throughout the rest of the day Tav had managed to prove their unique ability to consistently avoid being careful at the worst of times, exhibit their clumsiness at regular intervals, and be generally entirely irresponsible for their own well-being.

"There he is again – father to my rescue once again," was their far-too-calm response when Gale politely informed them that they'd nearly set off a pressure plate that had been clearly visible in broad daylight. Astarion had laughed at their sarcasm, and so had Wyll, and Gale had continued forward through the crypt, frowning at the oddly strange feeling in his belly that sidled up to the sourness he felt at their response. He'd only been trying to help...

And finally, when Tav nearly threw themselves over a crumbling edge into the whispering depths for a useless chunk of agate, Gale would've pulled them back to safety by their tunic's collar if they hadn't turned to him after he'd practically saved their life and said with their chest heaving from fear and their cheeks flushed crimson from adrenaline, "well shit, that was way too fucking close. Thanks, daddy."

Truthfully, Gale doesn't know why he reacted the way he did. He should have been furious with how the previous hours of their day had gone. They'd nearly walked in circles for hours because of Wyll's inability to follow a map, and had clawed through miles of cobwebs, dust, and dirt all so that Tav could nearly die three times and so Astarion could stake claim to some stupid dark-magic book they'd found that he knew absolutely nothing about. He should have expressed his discontent, to say the least – or should have shimmied the rest of the way off of the ledge and pulled his companions along with him – but no. Out of all of the things the wizard could have done, he'd frozen in place. Immobile and unable to form a coherent thought with the rest of his companions pressed shoulder-to-shoulder along the crumbling edge of the most terrifying drop he's ever seen – he'd actually just frozen.

He could feel his face turn red from the blood and embarrassment that had suddenly flooded into it, and he'd certainly felt it when what remained in his head suddenly rushed right down across his chest and into his dick.

Tav had only called him daddy – they'd been calling him things like father all day long for his well-deserved scolding and lecturing and that was close enough! So why did that specific word turn his brain to mush and his cock into iron? He realizes with a mortifying lurch that the strange feeling he'd been feeling all day when they'd call him those stupid names wasn't discomfort at all. He liked it.