#Rolan Drabble

[kimberbohwrites]

Freckles

Drabble Request from @sunflowerrolanadorer & @scandistar

SFW, Fluffy, cute, Rolan x Reader, 734 Words (none of them edited!)

As an aspiring spellcaster you started working at Sorcerous Sundries under the new management of Rolan, a tiefling from Elturel. You’d heard all about his prowess, after all he’d helped the famed Tav save the city from such a terrible plot just last year. The stories on the street and in the papers had filled you with excitement, on top of a steady paycheck you’d also be getting lessons with Rolan — the Archwizard himself.

That’s really where the trouble started. The papers and the gossip had failed to include mention of how handsome the wizard was.

Your first impression couldn’t have gone worse. He’d walked in to his office to meet with you already talking and the velvet sound of his voice had immediately thrown you. But it was seeing him as he came around the desk that left you stunned. The sun from the window behind him cast brilliant rays that highlighted every beautiful angle and plane on his face. He glowed ethereally and your mouth hung open, the breath stolen from your chest as you felt an unexpected warmth fill your body. As he came to stand in front of you at his desk, blocking out the sun, you are able to notice the perfect dusting of freckles that adorn his face.

Your staring is incredibly obvious as evidenced by the way he clears his throat, the whisper of a blush seems to rise on his cheeks.

“Yes, ahem, I’m a tiefling. Is that going to be an issue?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut — of course he thinks you’re being rude.

“Yes, I mean no, I mean it’s fine — I mean it doesn’t matter — well of course it matters but it doesn’t matter—“

An unintelligent smattering of words and thoughts ramble from your mouth as you try to do anything to improve the situation. It doesn’t help but you’re grateful that Rolan seems interested to move on quickly.

You spend the rest of the meeting making the most respectful eye contact possible, even if your eyes do sweep eagerly across his freckles the moment he glances away to grab a piece of parchment.

—

Your next few interactions are hardly any better. In your lessons you find yourself distracted. It’s not your fault that you’re being taught magic by one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen in your life. His eyes burn into your when he watches you to make sure you’re understanding what he’s teaching. The yellow fire in his gaze is like the sunlight that so very lovingly frames his visage each time your work extends to sunset.

And his freckles. They’re just so — cute.

You can easily imagine the way his tail would swish in irritation at that description — cute. But you can’t help it and a giddy blush on your cheeks as you think about him. He is cute. His sweet freckles dot the dimples on his cheeks when he smiles — they even dust across his eyelids you noticed once when you happened upon him asleep at his desk. Your mind tends to wander during slow moments at work as you think about him and all the other places on his body he might have freckles. The flush on your cheeks turns hot and you force yourself back to your sorting duties, lest Rolan catch you daydreaming about him — again.

Everyone can see it but him, his siblings and the other employees at the store. Cal and Lia go so far as to make little jokes about your crush on their brother and how oblivious he is to it.

“You’re always so distracted,” Rolan sighs during a lesson after work one day, “Maybe I’m just not the teacher you need.”

Before you can argue, Lia ducks her head into the room — her timing almost criminally flawless.

“Oh I think you’re just what they need” she laughs as she continues on.

Rolan’s face flushes, highlighting each and everyone of his perfect little freckles as he sputters with confusion. His tail coiling around his leg in agitation as he muses.

“What does that even mean?”

Before you can overthink it you lean of forward and plant a kiss on his cheek, your lips gracing his warm skin — freckles and all.

“Oh? Oh. Oh.”

Rolan’s tail coils around your leg as he pulls you closer, the mystery of his distracted student solved at long last.

Borders by @ Olenvasynyt on Tumblr, Please Like/Reblog!

[rax-writes]

↬ comfort

Rolan x Reader

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. It's my good bitch @drizztdohurtin's birthday today, so I wanted to write a comfort fic that she'd been wanting. Happy birthday, Serena!!

There were not merely one or two negative components of the day. It started with poor sleep the night before, an all-day headache, breakfast going awry, intermittent cramping and a lower back ache from your monthly cycle starting, multiple aggravating customers at Sorcerous Sundries, and finally, spilling wine on a book you’d been engrossed in after dinner. All in all, it was a very unpleasant day, and although you tried your best to conceal your negativity, your husband noticed.

Rolan always noticed.

He watched you attentively as you drug your feet across the floor of your bedroom, getting ready for bed much more slowly than usual, a dejected look upon your face. As you began to approach the bed to lie down, Rolan asked, “What’s wrong, my love?”

In lieu of a proper response, you merely climbed into bed and laid right on top of him, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you. Rolan placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, then one hand began alternating between lightly trailing his nails all over your back, to rubbing soothing circles there. He was silent for several minutes, letting you relax against him for some time. Eventually, however, he repeated his question, in an even gentler tone than before.

“Just a bad day,” you mumbled against his chest, relishing in his warmth.

“How can I help?” Rolan asked softly.

“Would you rub my back for a bit?”

“Of course. Lay down on your front here beside me, darling.”

You did as he bade you, and although you loathed leaving the comfort of his chest, you were not absent from his warmth for long, as he made quick work of pushing your sleep shirt up and rubbing circles with his palms. Rolan then retrieved the massage oil from the nightstand and used that on you, focusing on your lower back, clearly remembering that your lower back usually gives you the most trouble.

After an unknown amount of time, you were on the verge of falling asleep, so you quietly let Rolan know that you wished to cuddle him again. Rolan then resumed his previous position of laying on his back and opening his arms to you. The massage oil had been used up, so his hands were clean when he wrapped his arms around you and began lightly scratching the bare skin of your back, extremely mindful of avoiding adding too much pressure, lest his nails harm you. His tail wrapped around your calf affectionately, and he occasionally pressed kisses to your forehead, temples, and the top of your head. The warmth of his abdomen against yours was doing wonders to soothe your cramps, and when you wrapped your arms around him, he – seemingly unknowingly – began to purr faintly. It made you smile, and you pressed a kiss to his bare chest.

“I love you.”

“And I love you. More than you will ever know,” Rolan vowed, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up so he could kiss you. “You are the most enchanting sight I have ever laid eyes on. Nothing could ever compare to you, both in beauty and in brains…. Well, except myself, of course.”

You snorted, and you could practically hear him smiling in response.

“I am endlessly grateful that you agreed to marry me – although I will never truly understand what I have done to deserve such good fortune.”

Smiling, you kissed him again, before laying your head back down on his chest. You were already on the cusp of sleep when you murmured, “I love you, you sap.”

“And I love you, darling.”

The blissful blackness of sleep encompassed you shortly after, and you fell asleep atop your husband, as comfortable and cozy as you could ever be.

----------

Thank you to my bestie @sscamanderr for beta reading ♥

[fic--writer]

The archmage must get married

Rolan x fem!Tav, Lia, Cal.

1780 words. Humor, romance, idiots in love, SFW, Post-canon

Rolan and Tav are secretly in love with each other, but neither of them dares to make the first move. However, the circumstances are changing.

"Rolan! You have to get married!" — Lia blurted this out right at breakfast.

Rolan froze with his glass in hand, then sharply turned to his sister, staring intently at her tired, yet extremely serious face.

"I have to... what?" — he asked, not believing his ears.

"Get married! You're an archmage now. You have status, and you're in the public eye. Damn journalists found out you're single and wrote that ridiculous article, and..."

Rolan frowned and took a sip of wine.

"What article?" — he asked cautiously.

A laugh came from the other side of the table. His brother, Cal, quoted from memory:

"'The new Archmage has been named the sexiest bachelor of Baldur's Gate.'"

Rolan choked.

"Zurgan!" — he gasped, coughing. "Maybe you both could finally start reading something more respectable than tabloid trash? Just think about it! You live in a tower with one of the rarest libraries, have access to any books, and instead…"

Lia interrupted his tirade, gesturing irritably with her hands: "It's not about that! The problem is your new admirers, who are becoming more and more persistent every day! Hundreds of letters, all smelling of perfume, and often cheap ones at that... I have to manually sift through the important correspondence, and yesterday I spent an entire hour explaining to one pushy woman that you don’t see visitors without an appointment!”

She shook her head and, crossing her arms over her chest, stared at him intently:

“Rolan, you're a grown man. You have a huge tower, a position, work... It’s really time for you to settle down."

Rolan sighed in resignation:

"Fine, I'll think about it, but only if it makes you shut up."

"Think about it? As if we don’t all know who 'exactly' will be your sweet little wife," - Cal chimed in, and he and Lia both started giggling.

"What?!"

"Oh, come on," - Cal smirked. - "You're too obvious. Even if you think you're hiding it well."

"What. Do. You. Mean?" - Rolan narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping dangerously low, and why did these troglodytes always manage to get under his skin...

"What do I mean?" — Cal chuckled, making faces and mimicking his brother. — "Tav, shall I pour you some wine? Tav, want to read together? Tav, will you have dinner with us? Tav..."

"Hush you!" — Rolan barked, feeling the heat rush to his face. — "She’s my friend, not my damn girlfriend!"

Cal just smirked and shook his head.

Of course, Rolan felt a whole spectrum of emotions toward Tav. How could he not? She saved his red hide from certain death, she saved his family, she helped him become an archmage, and even saved this damned world.

And she was damned beautiful. But did he have the right to want more? To demand her — all of her, without reservation?

"Well, it's your call, but decide soon before your fans start storming the tower or slipping love potions into your food."

Lia cast a glance at his plate.

"By the way... where did that pastry come from?"

Rolan froze. Then, slowly, he lowered his gaze to the dessert in his hands. The next second, he violently shoved it aside, desperately spitting out the remains.

Tav stepped into the Archmage's tower and found Lia, deeply focused as she sorted through some papers. Over the past few months, Rolan’s sister had essentially become his personal secretary, keeping order in the endless stream of work.

Tav’s attention was drawn to a tall stack of letters, many of them pink.

She frowned, grabbed one of the letters, and flipped it over in her hands. On the envelope, oh gods, there were... little hearts?! And in the recipient field, none other than Archmage Rolan was listed.

"What... is this?" — Tav asked, concern evident in her voice as she shook the letter in her hand.

"Oh, these?" Lia replied, not looking up. "Love letters. From women... and not just them. They all dream of being the companion of a man of status..."

"Oh? Ooo... Oh." — Tav could barely manage to squeeze out, her mind racing.

Almost with disgust, she shoved the letter back into the pile, her eyes darting nervously.

"Tav? Are you okay?"

"Me? Uh... yeah... no..." — she swallowed nervously. — "I think I’m a little... sick."

Lia narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Tav looked the same as always, no signs of illness. Shrugging, Lia sighed and returned to her work.

Tav, not saying another word, stretched out her hand. One quick incantation — and from her finger erupted a narrow pillar of flame, instantly turning the letters into a handful of ashes.

Lia swore, jumping back:

"What the hell are you doing!?"

"Oh, that was totally an accident! I don’t know..." — Tav desperately tried to put on an innocent face.

Lia raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp with suspicion.

"Really? You don’t know? One of the most powerful sorceresses in the city ‘accidentally’ casts a spell?" — She wasn’t buying this nonsense.

“When I’m sick, I… I’m not myself!” — Tav blurted out, taking a step back.

Lia opened her mouth to respond, but just then, the door slammed open, and a stranger burst into the room.

A young woman, dressed in tight clothing that emphasized her very noticeable curves, smiled as she entered:

"Hi! I want to become the Archmage’s apprentice... I want to learn magic from him."

Tav slowly shifted her gaze to Lia.

Lia slowly shifted her gaze to Tav.

Tav narrowed her eyes, giving the young woman a thorough once-over. Before Lia had a chance to respond, Tav stepped forward and calmly said:

"Really? Then show me the simplest spells you already know. Please."

"Show you? Oh. Well, I need to get in the right mindset..." — The stranger blinked in confusion, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

There’s no magic in her at all, Tav realized, and continued:

"You know what?" — she suggested with a tight smile. — "It would be best if you wrote a letter to the Archmage."

"Really?" — The girl brightened, her eyes sparkling with hope.

"Really," Tav confirmed, barely holding back a sly smirk. — "He will definitely respond."

Satisfied, the girl nodded, apologized, and quickly hurried off.

Lia watched the girl leave, then slowly turned to Tav, her mouth slightly open, clearly about to ask a million questions.

But as soon as their eyes met, all the words got stuck in her throat. Tav's gaze clearly said: "Not a word more."

Lia sighed heavily and returned to her papers. Another day in the Archmage's tower was shaping up to be exceptionally long.

When Rolan entered the reception room, the first thing that caught his eye was the blackened scorch mark on the table.

"Zurgan! This is a red oak table! Who the hell did this?!" — He froze, then his tail flicked irritably.

"It was Tav," — Lia said flatly, not even bothering to look up from her papers.

Tav, standing off to the side, nervously cleared her throat.

Rolan blinked, finally noticing her:

"Oh, Tav? Hey... How are you? I mean... why my table?" — He ran a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. — "Alright, never mind."

The Archmage's anger noticeably subsided, and taking advantage of the moment, Lia lazily added:

"Oh, and she just kicked one of your potential apprentices out the door..."

Rolan slowly turned his head toward Tav.

Tav greeted him with a flawless, innocent smile.

Lia smirked and flipped the page of her papers.

Tav’s cheeks instantly turned crimson, and she hissed at Lia:

"Can you be quiet for just one second?!"

But it was too late.

Rolan crossed his arms over his chest, staring at her intently.

"You did what?"

Tav straightened up, trying to look confident.

"The cat at the fish stall has more magic flowing through it than that girl," — she countered. — "I just made your job easier."

"But you didn’t even let me take a look, you didn’t even tell me! Why?!"

Tav opened her mouth... and immediately realized she had no coherent explanation. She began stammering, stumbling over her words, cursing herself for not being able to just fall straight into hell right now.

Rolan, not waiting for an answer, let out a heavy sigh, grabbed her by the wrist, and decisively dragged her toward his office.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Lia alone.

She smirked, gave a satisfied hum, and walked off.

“Finally”.

"What the hell is going on, Tav?!" — Rolan stormed into the office, his voice echoing through the room. — "First you scorch my table, then you make decisions for me! Has a worm eaten your brain?"

Tav, without taking her eyes off his face, replied, trying not to let her irritation show:

"I told you, there’s no magic in that girl. She just came to show off in front of you. You wouldn’t have taught her anyway, so why waste time?"

"Really?" — His voice turned mockingly amused. — "Then why didn’t you even let me take a look? Why didn’t you let me make the decision myself? Do you think I can’t do anything right?!"

"Do you really have to talk to me like that? Did I step on your tail or something?" — Tav took a defensive stance.

Rolan froze, staring at her face… and suddenly his smirk became almost devilish:

“Wait, what? Are you jealous?”

Tav quickly turned away, pretending that something interesting was happening outside the window, but her flushed cheeks gave it all away.

“Oh, I always knew there had to be some special reason for you to save me and my family so many times…” — he continued, stepping closer — “But I never could have imagined…”

Tav had no time to answer. Driven by something inexplicable, the Archmage scooped her up in his arms, sat her down on the table almost effortlessly, and placed himself between her legs.

Tav gasped, but made no protest. On the contrary, she grabbed his collar and pulled him closer...

Cal, as usual, entered the Archmage’s office without knocking:

"Rolan, what do you want for dinner? Oh! Sorry... uh... I didn't see anything, go ahead."

He took a few steps back and slammed the door shut with a resounding thud. A moment of silence, as if he wanted to forget what he had just seen, and Cal was already on his way to his sister:

"Lia! You won’t believe it! I think we can start preparations for the wedding!"

Lia simply raised an eyebrow:

"Relax, I started a month ago."

.

.

.

Read the NSFW follow up of the fic by wonderful @kimberbohwrites

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Okay about that Rolan thought where he is mean to himself as he masterbaits is just *chefs kiss*

What if Tav hears him? Like he’s in the back and she walks past the door and hears clapping? So she leans her ear to the door and hears him…

“So…ah-fucking pathetic…mhmm thinking about….her ahh snug cunt.”

Rolan’s knuckles are white as he strokes himself faster and faster… then he hears a slight whine.

Your ear is pressed to the door as your thighs squeeze together trying to ease the ache in your ruined panties… then Rolan sets himself back in his pants and opens the door but when he opens the door he sees, nothing? He doesn’t know that you’re just around the corner with your heart racing out for your chest and the plans to check that closet every day now.

(i was gonna link the post you mentioned but i cant fuckin FIND it hghg) EDIT: FOUND IT!!

Hope you don't mind that I wrote this, as soon as I saw it I was a MESS and had to share some more solid thoughts hghghg

~~~

'Caught?'

Rolan/femcis!Reader !NSFW!

__

When the last customer of the day leaves and you hear the magical mechanism lock the front doors, you finally let yourself deflate out of customer service mode.

“I don’t think that man was an adventurer.” You say, leaning comfortably on the front desk. 

Rolan is crouched down under the counter, taking inventory of the scrolls beside you. He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers. “It’s not just adventurers that shop here.”

“Yes, but he bought a Scroll of Enlarge. What in the world would he need that for?”

“It’s not our job to know.” The tip of Rolan’s quill dances over the furled ends of a scroll. “...Perhaps he wants to clean some high shelves in his home.”

“65 gold to clean some shelves? I doubt it.” 

You can see Rolan’s attention to his task waning as he settles more comfortably on his knees beside you, “Alright, so what’s your theory?”

“My theory?” You ponder for a second before the obvious presents itself. “Probably a sex thing.”

“Wh– a sex…thing?” Rolan sputters before waving his quill in front of himself, “What sort of nonsense are you talking?”

You’re shocked at just how flustered Rolan seems all of a sudden. You wonder just how more flustered he can get.

“It’s not nonsense, though.” You lean against the counter, looking out across the shop floor as you speak in a confidential low tone, “Your partner would be able to really toss you around like that. And I mean, the size aspect, of course…”

Rolan says nothing, and from the corner of your eye he seems almost like a statue, completely unmoving. You’re tempted to take a better look, but resist as you continue.

“Really though, I bet most of your customers are actually perverts. Why else would Scrolls of Grease and Dominate Person be our biggest sellers?” 

“Alright,” Rolan says, voice on the brink of exasperation, “I get Dominate Person, sure, but Grease?”

“Think about it. Oiling up your partner from head to toe. Everything being all slick and wet and well… greasy.” 

Rolan scoffs, “But the mess.”

“It’s magical lubricant,” You retort easily, “It dissipates after a while. Easy cleanup.” You take the side of your leg and bump him with it playfully, “Besides, sometimes the mess is part of the fun. Come on, you’ve had to have thought about it before.”

“Enough.” Rolan stands and straightens his robes brusquely, “This is inappropriate talk for work.” 

You want to point out that he’s the one that encouraged you, but you can see annoyance written all across his flushed face, and you don’t want to push it into a full-blown bad mood. You’re not really sure what flipped his switch so suddenly, but Rolan’s moods can be fickle like that sometimes. You’ve learned that it’s best to just distance yourself and don’t question it, lest you get a chewing out. With how well you both get along, it’s sometimes easy to forget that he’s your boss, and you’re his employee. 

He turns quickly on his heel and makes for the back of the store, mumbling something about taking inventory in the store room, leaving you alone to close up shop for the day. 

You go about straightening up, smiling at Tolna as she waves a silent goodbye and leaves. Luckily for you, today was a fairly calm one. There’s no mysterious goop to clean from the floors or fire-singed books to pull for repairs. 

As you move back behind the front desk to wipe down the counter, you notice a piece of parchment on the ground, near where you were previously standing. You pick it up and realize that it’s Rolan’s inventory list. It’s odd that he hasn’t come back to retrieve it.

You brush it off and begin making your way to the storage room, already imagining Rolan standing along one of the shelves, nose in some tome and his task completely forgotten.

But right as your hand touches the handle, you hear the faint whisper of Rolan’s voice. Is he talking to himself as he works? Or maybe he’s reading something out loud. It’s nearly indiscernible through the thick wood, and before you can think better of it, you find yourself pressing your ear against the door.

“....pathetic…fucking pathetic...”

His voice sounds tight and breathless and very pissed off. Did you really anger him that much? And is he calling you pathetic? It feels like a slap across the face– because to be fair, you were being pathetic, trying to get a rise out of him in some backwards, stupid way of flirting.

Your mind is already twisting around, trying to nurse at your wounded pride as you take a step back, but then you hear something that makes your entire body freeze.

“She doesn’t f-fucking want you–” His scathing words break off into a low moan and you can hear the faintest wet sound, a fast, repetitive ‘shlickshlickshlick’  that gets drowned out as he continues in the same hushed, angry tone, “You’re worthless, just a, ahh- a worthless fucking pervert.” 

The crash of arousal that hits you is nearly debilitating, but there’s a thread of pity that doesn’t let you fully indulge in the feeling. Rolan is on the other side of the door, masturbating and berating himself. It could just be a kink for him, but the way he’s hissing the words makes it seem like he’s punishing himself, like he’s saying them to keep from enjoying himself entirely. Is it because you’re his employee? Is it because he thinks he’s not good enough for you?  

You tell yourself not to be presumptuous. Maybe it’s not even about you. But at the same time, who the hell else could he be talking about? And after the chat you both had…did your playful teasing really rile him up to such an extent? 

Gods, what would he do if he knew you were listening to him? That your cunt was throbbing at the sounds of him stroking himself, that each of his breathy, desperate moans made you clench uselessly around nothing? What would he do if you opened the door? If you caught him with those long, pretty fingers wrapped around his hard cock? 

The thought is tempting, intoxicating…but even in your lust-muddied mind, you know you can’t. Rolan is sensitive, and a blow to his self image like that would be something you’re not sure you could reassure him out of. Especially with the cruel words he’s muttering to himself…it’s clear he has a fair share of sexual hang-ups. 

You press your thighs together and lean harder against the door, hungry to pick up on every minute sound. The wet noise is quicker now, almost manic, and his breathing is harsh. Rolan is getting close– the thought is so mind-numbingly erotic that your hips roll against the door in time with his small, overwhelmed whimpers. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” He pants out, voice teetering on distress. 

You wonder where he’s going to cum. In his hand? A handkerchief? Does he even have a plan for what he’s going to do? If only you were in there with him, you’d stick out your tongue for him and take every hot, thick shot in your mouth.

As exciting as your sordid thoughts are, it’s nothing compared to the sound of your name– one you’ve heard so many times from him, usually from across the store, oftentimes distracted, sometimes annoyed– but this time, it’s a desperate plea. He says it like it’s the sweetest word he knows, like the mere forming of it in his mouth is a deep, aching relief.

You groan despite yourself, and realize your error almost immediately. Rolan goes deathly silent in the storeroom, and even though you’re in a drunken daze, you jerk away from the door.

Son of a bitch. Son a bitch!

It’s your turn to berate yourself as you speed walk to the other side of the store, cheeks on fire and heart thundering so hard in your chest that you’re surprised it doesn’t break a rib. 

Did he hear you? Does he know you were eavesdropping? 

You reach the counter and immediately start fussing with a stack of pamphlets as your thoughts flit ceaselessly.

When you hear the door to the store room open, you fight the urge to stiffen and instead continue to make yourself look busy, your breath held as you hear the soft tapping of Rolan’s shoes against the tiled floor. 

They seem to head in your direction, then stop. A few beats of silence, then they veer to the left, seeming to head towards the tome counter.  

You wait a few moments before daring to take a look. Rolan’s back is turned away from you, the end of his quill dancing over the edges of the books as he continues to take inventory, like nothing happened. 

Oh yeah, the inventory list! It’s only then that you realize that it’s no longer in your hands. You whip around, looking around your feet, then along the path to the store room. 

You don’t see it.

You turn back to Rolan just as he jots something down on a piece of parchment. It’s a little hard to see from this distance, but you’re almost certain that it’s the same one as before. 

Even if there’s no solid proof that he knows you were peeping, the horrified screaming in your head doesn’t relent.

[kimberbohwrites]

*cracks knuckles* I got this.

Kittens

SFW, FLUFFY FLUFF, CUTE.

It was the getting the kittens in the tower that had proven the exceedingly difficult task. Rolan had proven a much better Master of Ramazith Tower than his predecessor and it was no longer as easy to just sneak right in to the tower. Tav suspected it was the only reason Cal and Lia included her in their plot in the first place, her ability to distract their brother.

Thank goodness he didn’t do anything about the defenses during his apprenticeship, we would have never stolen the Annals of Karsus.

Tav didn’t want to lie to him so overtly, she felt terrible betraying his trust in the first place. Instead of some grand ruse she simply let his siblings know the day and timeframe of their next date. While Rolan and her spent an evening in the upper city, under the stars, she couldn’t help but feel guilty as little did he know that a new family was moving in to the Tower.

The kittens and their mother are so adorable that she almost feels better about her lie of omission to Rolan. Almost. They are orange tabbies — the kittens are little angels, still just little furry beans with closed eyes. The mother has clearly had a hard life and when Tav uses Speak with Animals on her, she understands more about it. Her name is Cabbage and she had been homeless for some time now after her last family moved away after the Netherbrain incident, leaving her behind. They’d been an upper city family who hadn’t wanted to take their animals with them when they’d fled to safety.

Cal and Lia had happened upon her in an ally where she had delivered her kittens and tried to hide from the scary citizens of Baldur’s Gate.

It was the young man, the happy one, who heard the sounds of kitten mews and happened upon their hiding spot.

Tav smiled at Cal and Lia, relaying the information and the Cabbage’s name to the siblings.

“Tav? Tav!” She hears Rolan calling her from a few halls over.

“I have to go before we are caught, I’ll visit again soon but take good care of them! Okay?”

She knows she doesn’t need to tell Cal or Lia that, her heart soars with pride at these two who have become like family to her in just over a year. In her mind, she knows Rolan is good as well but he also has a tendency to miss the forest for the want of a single tree. Not telling him something like this had weighed heavy in her mind the past few days.

Ducking out of the storage room in a back hall within the tower, she scurries to find Rolan before he can get too close to the room in question. He’s wearing an apron and asking if they want to make dinner together — Tav’s favorite activity to do with him (other than the obvious). Immediately the guilt within her grows to epic proportions.

How could I lie to such a sweet and loving man? I’m a monster!

She bites back the tears as he greets her with a warm hug. The apron is one she had made for him and gave to him on his first birthday after they’d started dating. She’s sewn colorful fabric scraps on to look like swirls of the weave coming to life. On it she’d stitched the words “magic in the kitchen”, an inside joke between the two of them.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asks as she approaches, likely seeing the conflict on her face.

“N-Nothing?”

He pulls her into a big hug against his chest, he’s so warm and she has always loved the feeling of being in his arms.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with those kittens that Cal and Lia think they’re hiding from me, would it?”

She freezes with a nervous giggle and looks up at him sheepishly.

“You know, the ones they snuck in while you and I were at dinner the other night? Didn’t think you were going to get that by me, did you?”

Rolan gives a hum of amusement when he sees her surprise and he kisses her forehead lightly. It takes her just a moment to answer.

“You’re not mad?”

“Oh no, I’m mad, my family has conspired against me.”

She grins at his usage of the words “my family” when he’d referred to them. Even if he’s a little mad, she can’t help but feel safe in his arms. She knew that he’d sulk for a few days. Of course she and his siblings did owe him an apology, and a good one. But she smiled anyway, because she knew they’d be okay in the end. Rolan had likely had days to throw the Cabbage and her kittens back on the street and he hadn’t. He was maybe a tad grouchy, but he was a good man to his core.

First time contributing to the empire, so I’d love to hear everybody’s thoughts.

Cal, Lia and Tav hiding a secret litter of kittens and their mother somewhere in the tower without a word in Rolan’s direction, as they’re afraid he won’t let them keep the cats.

Just a little prompt. Do with it however you will!

[lana-writes]

tonight is all i ask

Rolan x GN! Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Teen

Tags/Warnings: fluff, some brief kissing, love confessions

Summary: With all three Netherstones gathered, your party plans to rest one more night before leaving to attack the Elder Brain tomorrow, but you find yourself restless and afraid of what's to come. You wander over to Sorcerous Sundries after hours to have a drink with your friend, Rolan, the establishment's new master, but when he notices something is off, the truth of why you sought him comes tumbling out.

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | BG3 Character Letters

A breeze blew through the room as Rolan sat hunched over yet another ancient tome at his desk. The door to the balcony was wide open allowing the balmy evening air to float through while he worked. The sun had long disappeared over the horizon and his candle was beginning to reach the end of its life. Cal and Lia slept in one of two rooms in Ramazith’s Tower. They’d agreed that Rolan should get his own room considering it was he who was now considered the tower’s master, but he rarely spent much time there. He preferred to be closer to Cal and Lia most of the time and his evenings since Lorroakan’s death had been mostly spent right here at a desk beside a stack of books, burning the candle at both ends until the markings on the pages began to distort and blur. They weren’t illegible yet but the ache behind his eyes told him that he should have gone to bed or at the very least stopped reading hours ago. 

Down in the streets of Baldur’s Gate, you walked along towards Sorcerous Sundries. Your hooded cloak kept you from most people’s attention as you stuck to the shadows. The front doors to the building were locked but with Astarion’s lessons in lockpicking, you’d gotten quite good at it. In seconds, you were slipping inside. It was strange to see the inside of the shop at night, devoid of all the energy, magical and otherwise, that filled it during the day. Conjuring a little light from a flame in your palm, you wasted no time weaving your way around the wards strategically placed throughout the dark rooms up to the office where a permanent portal to the tower remained. 

Hopefully, Rolan wouldn’t object to any of this. You hadn’t asked to come over, especially not this late in the evening. It had to be near midnight by now, if not after. But you had too much on your mind and your companions at the Elfsong were not exactly the company you were craving on this, what might be, your last night alive. They understood the experience better than anyone else in Faerun but you didn’t want to be around any of their solemn faces tonight. Not tonight of all nights. 

Walking through the portal, you extinguished the flame in your hand and looked around. The soft glow of candlelight surrounded Rolan at his desk. Even from a few yards away, you could see just how tired he was. His shoulders slumped and his head rested in his hand as he leaned over some ancient tome. His face looked completely drained. Perhaps this was a mistake. He must be exhausted. You shouldn’t have come. Before you can take a step back through the portal though, he leaned back to stretch and you caught his eye. 

“Who goes there?” he demanded. You pulled back your hood and smiled. 

“A friend.” You walked over to him. His expression softened and he sat up a little straighter. “A friend bearing gifts,” you added, reaching for the bag slung across your shoulder. When you pulled out a bottle of wine, a smile tugged at his lips.

“You broke in, I presume?” he asked, arching a brow. 

“Just a little,” you smiled. “You should really take better precautions. Anyone could just waltz right in.” 

“Hmph,” he scoffed and leaned back in his seat, hands folded in front of him. Not just anyone could get past the wards he’d put in place, but he knew the sort of skills you possessed. It wasn’t a terrible surprise that you’d walked in without touching a single one.

“Would you mind a little company tonight?” you asked.

“Are your companions too busy for you?” 

“No,” you replied. “I just wanted something different tonight.” He could hear the solemn tone hiding in your voice. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” You answered quickly, a little too quickly you noticed. “Other than the obvious. Impending doom and all that.” You swallowed and took a deep breath. “Besides, you look like you need a break too. Have a drink with me?” 

“Alright,” he agreed and stood. “But let’s go outside. I’ve been sitting at this desk for far too long.” The two of you walked out on the balcony that encircled the tower. A bench to the left of the doorway was your destination. A few cushions lined a stone bench built into the wall. 

“I’ve got a bottle of Arabellan Dry and a bottle of Baldur’s Grape. Your choice,” you said, pulling a second bottle from your bag before you sat down. He took the Arabellan as he settled beside you. The view from the tower was impressive in the daylight. You could see from one end of the Gate to the other from its highest floor. At night, the lights in the city below looked like stars mirroring the night sky above them. The two of you managed to uncork your bottles and clinked the necks of them before taking a sip.

“How is it being the master of Ramazith’s Tower?” you asked with a grin. 

“It’s–” he took a deep breath, “it’s damn overwhelming. Lorroakan didn’t know half of what he had and the cataloging of it all is a monstrous task. But, I’m managing.”

“How are Cal and Lia adjusting to life in the tower?” you asked. 

“Rather well, I think. They made themselves quite at home in just a few days after moving in. Lorroakan wouldn’t let them stay here and I couldn’t think of why at the time. There’s plenty of room but— Well, that doesn’t matter much now.” He finished somberly, taking a long swig from his bottle. 

“It’s good that they like it here,” you said. “That you can all be together. I’m glad.” 

“It wouldn’t have been possible if not for you,” he added, “however loath I am to admit it.” He flashed you a quick smile. “And it wouldn’t have been worth the effort to get here if you hadn’t saved Cal and Lia from those cultists.” You glanced over to him with a smile and found him staring back at you almost lovingly. You stayed like that for a moment, watching those warm, glowing eyes of his until his smile faltered. He cleared his throat and took another swig from his bottle. “Have you made much progress with the Absolute business?” he asked. 

You froze for just a second before slowly lowering your bottle to rest on your lap. You looked back out at the city over the balcony’s edge. Rolan could see the distress the question caused but he waited all the same. 

“Do you remember the stones I told you about?” you asked.

“Yes.” 

“I have all three now,” you said. “We decided that we’d take one more night to rest before–” You fiddled with the bottle in your hands. “ —before we go to face it.” He connected some of the dots himself. 

“The earthquakes,” he said, “They’ve grown more frequent.” You nodded before looking back at him again. 

“We know where it is, beneath the city,” you added plainly. “Gods only know how this will end, but tomorrow, we face it.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, the ones that you really needed to admit to someone, someone who would understand and hold you, someone who wouldn’t think any less of you for being scared out of your wits at the thought of facing this monstrosity that waited for you beneath your feet at this very moment. Your failure would mean the end of civilization on the Sword Coast and possibly the world should the Elder Brain continue to expand its new empire. You were terrified. 

“Then why did you come here tonight? Shouldn’t you be resting or preparing for what’s to come?” he asked, setting his bottle aside. Rolan leaned towards you a little, concern knitting his brows together as he stared back at you. 

“I didn’t want to sit around waiting for dawn to come with the others,” you answered. “I thought I wanted a distraction, so I stole a few bottles of wine and made my way here,” you smiled weakly before glancing away. “But I think I really just wanted to see you.” His lips parted slightly but otherwise his expression didn’t change. He stayed almost frozen sitting there with just inches between you on the bench. 

“Me?” he mumbled. You nodded though you didn’t meet his gaze. 

“Tonight might be my last night,” you said, looking up at the moon nestled among the stars. “It might be the last night for every soul in the city and I wanted to spend it with you, Rolan.” Smiling, you looked back at him again. 

“I–,” he started but stopped. His cheeks got somehow redder, or a darker red rather. It was an encouraging sight that only strengthened your smile. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you added, watching him waffle for something to say. “We can just drink and enjoy the view. It’s okay.” 

You’d liked Rolan maybe from the night of the party you shared with the tiefling refugees. You’d both been through hell over the last weeks and you’d kept meeting. Each time he’d charmed you a little more. His love for his family. His stubbornness. His confidence, and at times arrogance. He could be quite pleasant and playful when he wanted to be. Whether he realized it or not, he had endeared himself to you and you’d grown to care for him quite a lot more than you ever anticipated. So much so that now, on what might be your last night alive, you sought him out. You’d rather spend it in his company than anyone else’s, even your companions who knew better than anyone else the dangers that await you and how that must feel.

Telling Rolan that you cared for him, in not quite so many words, made your heart pound and blood rush to your cheeks. You weren’t sure what you planned to do or say when you found him tonight but it wasn’t this. Tears pricked at your eyes as you looked back out at the city lights and took another sip of wine. You fought the urge for as long as you could but you sniffled just a little. 

He whispered your name and you turned to look at him again. 

“Why?” 

“Must I spell it out?” you asked. 

“I was awful to you. I know we’ve put it behind us but– Is that why you helped me?” 

“No,” you replied, “I helped you because it was the right thing to do. The same reason I convinced Cal and Lia to stay at the Grove. It was the right thing. And after that–” you trailed off a little. “It was still the right thing to help you and your family.” 

“You went out of your way, when you really didn’t have to risk your neck for any of us.”

“I did because I like you– and Cal and Lia. None of you deserved what happened. But two things can be true at once. I liked you, Rolan, and I wanted you to be happy and your family is a part of that,” you explained. 

“What are you saying?” he asked softly. 

“I think I love you,” you whispered back, tears in your eyes once more. 

“You think–” he started. 

“I love you,” you repeated, a little firmer, “Rolan. I'm in love with you.” Once more, he was at a loss for words and she could see him searching for a reaction within himself through his eyes as well as the end of his tail twitching animatedly at his side. “Again, you don't have to say anything. It’s okay. I won’t be hurt if you don’t feel the same.”

“Yes, you will,” he paused, “because I know I would be.”  

“I just mean, I could make my peace with it, if you didn’t like me that way, and I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured to say things that you don’t mean.” 

“I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it,” he replied, almost harshly. You stared back at his hard expression for a moment or so before you looked away again, setting your bottle of Baldur’s Grape aside. You couldn’t look at him any longer if he was just going to stare at you like that and not say anything else. Why couldn’t he just put you out of your misery and say something? 

“You– I hated you once,” he said, “I blamed you for my fears. I blamed you for Cal and Lia being taken. I still wanted to hate you when you brought them back because– I couldn’t do that. I’ve protected them for years and I couldn’t save them. You did and you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to help with Lorroakan either. You didn’t have to talk with me at the party at the Grove or humor me with my little light show,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “I know it wasn’t very much but it was something I could do for them.” He shifted to face you on the bench. “I wanted to stay bitter with you but I couldn’t.” You looked up as he turned his head to look out at the city lights. “As vexingly self righteous as I wanted to characterize you, it isn’t entirely true,” he paused, and you could see him swallow and brace himself for the next words that fell from his lips. 

“You might be one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met.” He spoke with all the reverence of a prayer, “You have bewitched me completely. And I–” Rolan turned to face you again, tears welling in his eyes this time. “I love you too.” 

“Rolan.” His name tumbled from you in the faintest whisper as you reached out to touch his face. It occurred to you as your fingertips slid across his cheek that you hadn’t ever touched him before this moment, not even his hand. He brought a hand up to cover your own against his cheek and a smile graced his lips. You couldn’t stop yourself when you nearly leaped forward to kiss him. Pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss, you nearly fell into his lap, your other hand bracing yourself against his shoulder.  Gripping his robes in one hand, you steadied yourself against him while his hands fell to your back and waist, pulling you into him. His lips tasted dry and sweet against your own until the two of you parted. 

Breathless, you stared back at each other for a second or two. You were practically sitting in his lap with his arms around you. His tail was draped over your leg, hesitantly wavering back and forth against your calf.

“I’ve thought of you endlessly for weeks now,” he said. “I didn’t dare to think that you might– that you’d think of me that way.” 

“Really?” you grinned. “But you’re the remarkable one, Rolan.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” he said. 

“It’s true. Lorroakan knew it too and it scared him. You had outgrown him already by the time you reached the city. He couldn’t teach you anything that you couldn’t teach yourself.” Your hands lingered on his shoulders as you watched his smile begin to fade. 

“And now?” he demanded. “Am I supposed to just send you off into the Absolute’s lair to save me and my family for a second time?” His jaw clenched as he stared back at you, expression hard with worry once again. 

“Yes,” you replied. “Because I need the master of Ramazith’s Tower ready to support me when this inevitably goes sideways. The tower has armaments, doesn’t it? Artillery?” 

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “yes, it does.” He’d forgotten all about that. 

“We may need it and I need you here to man them,” you said. 

“It’s not because you want to keep me away from the fight?” he asked. You made a face. 

“It’s a little of that. But Ramazith’s Tower is a powerful asset that I wouldn’t trust in the hands of anyone but you,” you answered. “I need you here because I trust you,” you added, “and because I’d hate myself if something happened to you.” You brought a hand back up to rest against his cheek. “You have a family Rolan and you need each other. If I die, the world would keep turning and you would move on.” He scoffed at the suggestion. 

“The world might keep turning but I don’t think I could ever let you go, not after everything that’s happened.” 

“Gods willing, you won’t have to,” you smiled. 

“Gods willing.” He forced a smile onto his face and leaned his forehead against your own. The base of his horns pressing against your skin. 

“Can we set aside the talk of tomorrow now?” you asked softly. “I don’t want to think about it for a while.” 

“Of course.” He pushed his nose against yours, eyes closed and your lips nearly touching. “Will you stay? Here? With me?” 

“They’ll be expecting me back at the Elfsong,” you whispered against his lips, “but dawn is a while away yet.” You smiled before pushing forward to capture them in another kiss. 

If you liked this little story, you should check out my masterlist or my Etsy shop for BG3 Character Letters

[reverieblondie]

Rolan x Tav prompt: Rolan (and maybe his siblings, too) meets Tav's family, who thought Tav was dead after being abducted by the mind flayers, only for Tav's family to react... poorly to one of their own being with 'one of those devil spawns'. What if after a moment of shock, his lover absolutely tears into their family—I'm talking 'How dare you!', maybe Tav even smacks one of their family members in the face first, ending with something like 'If I'd known I was related to such disgusting people, then I'd have saved us all some trouble and let you continue to think I was dead!'—before storming away, their hand in Rolan's, as they murmur apology after apology to him about what just happened and ask if he is okay?

So I have been sitting on this one forever! I keep starting it but just can not get the story right so I will do a quick drabble for the ending. I love this this prompt! and I can totally see this happening to a Tav who has been estranged to their family. Maybe one of the reasons they were in a position to get abducted was because they were leaving their family home for something better.

I think the only reason Tav would go to this thing was because of Rolan suggesting it might be good to see her family again, get closer about everything. Rolan offers to go with her for moral support (like a good partner would) Of course her family are asses from the start talking about how famous Tav is now and how much money they must be making... but Tav and Rolan are just trying to ignore these rude questions and their not so sublet subjections for help... Tav is obviously not wanting to help them after everything and her family has some things to say about that...

"You disappear for a year and your some fancy hero and you can't even help your family? What have you even been doing all this time? shacking up with some...hellspawn?"

Now insult Tav all you want but go after Rolan? Hells no.

"And what of it? Rolan is my partner."

That's when Tavs aunt speaks up, "Your a fool girl, those soulless imps will take you for what your worth then throw you out."

Tav is about to slap her aunt but before she can her hand is caught by Rolan. Tav looks at Rolans solemn face and that's when the tears well up.

Tav holds the tears in as much as he can as he looks at those people who dare to call themselves her family. "You are the soulless ones... Rolan and his family have been more of a family to me than any of you ever were... Consider me dead, because you all are dead to me."

With that Tav storms out with Rolans hands tightly in hers, they walk in a fast pace heading towards their home and Tav is fighting the tears trying to fall from her eyes and Rolan keeps trying to call for her to slow down. Finally Tav stops and spins around hugging Rolan so tightly it threatens to knock the air out of his lungs.

"I am, I am so sorry... I didn't know they... I'm so sorry for what they said. Please know that I didn't think they would say that. They are terr-"

Rolan finally places his hand to Tavs Rambling lips before wiping her tears. "I'm the one whose sorry... I told you to go visit them.. and what they said... I've been ridiculed my whole life, but for them to ridicule you is something I can never forgive."

Tav and Rolan share in a tearful embrace, both of them trying so hard to reinsure if the other is okay.

I later imagine when they get engage its a huge story in the Baldurs Gate paper. Its not out of spite... but if they happen to see it and feel like idiots than thats okay too.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤It is you || Rolan ||

A/n: Just a small drabble I've been thinking about for Rolan.*implied smut*

Takes place after the game

It was nice to be back in the very city you saved,plus spending so much time in Avernus with Wyll and Karlach was starting to take it's toll on you so you decided to part ways from the budding romance blooming between the two deciding to take some time to live a quiet life. You did your best to catch up with your former companions and exploring the city since you could actually enjoy it with out something happened but their was one place that was constantly on your mind, the one place that you wanted to visit was Sorcerous Sundries, the very place the held the very man that you had feelings for though you hated it took you this long to realize it.

Following the familiar path and through the very familiar portal you spotted the very Tiefling you were looking for. "You finally got a desk?"

Rolan, didn't notice you at first, the man was too absorbed in the old book he was reading, ond hand rubbing his temple as he concentrated on the paperwork that covered nearly every inch of his desk though it was your voice the broke his concentration as he finally looked up at you.

His eyes flashed with recognition, a flicker of amusement before it quickly turned into a scowl, something you were very familiar with seeing. "Oh... it's you again."voice was flat, still holding that arrogant tone. "What have I done to be honored with the presence of the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Tire of Avernus already."

An airy laugh escaped your lips as you tilted your head to the side. Still smiling you moved to sit on the edge of his desk. You did miss this, miss the banter that you two would often share back and forth.

"That's it? That's all the greeting I get? No hug? No! Oh how I missed you!."

The tiefling scoffed and rolled his eyes as you sat on his desk, causing papers to flutter around. He set aside the book then looked at you. As a smirk formed on his lips as he leant back in his seat. "Well, well, look who finally decided to grace me with their presence! Though I’ll have you know, that I am a very busy man and don’t have time for your whimsical greetings." His expression turned to a pout “But I suppose the feeling is mutual, especially after you saved my life more times than I care to count..."

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head for a moment. You were happy that he was still himself,you weren't quite sure what you would do if the man had changed.

"You look good Rolan....happier now."

The tiefling's gaze lingered on you, his eyes traced the outline of your figure, the soft curves that had filled out.But despite these changes, there was something captivating about you. There always had been.

A smile tugged at the corner of Rolan's lips. "Happier?" He repeated, his voice soft, almost a whisper. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk "How do you know my happiness is not an act?"

Letting out a scoff, you still had a smile on your lips as you lent into closer to the man, your eyes sparkling. "You have a twinkle in your eye... that can't be an act Rolan."

It was nice seeing him like this, happier. He and his siblings went through so much."But if it is then maybe you should think about switching careers."

A soft chuckle escaped Rolan’s lips as the corners of his mouth formed into a small smile. He reached out and gently traced his warm fingertips across your cheek. "Ah, I knew you would see right through me, my clever friend. My smile is real, I can assure you."

His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment before he gently retracted his hand. You could faintly see a hint of rosiness on the tiefling's cheeks "You are right though, I am happier now that the Sword Coast is no longer in danger of extinction."

Letting your eyes slip closed, you did your best to ignore the shiver running down your spine from how good it felt from when he touched you. You were embarrassed by how much you hated from when he pulled away.

You enjoyed how warm his touch felt on your skin and you did your best to try not to imagine those fingers gliding else were across your body.

"Thats good, you and your siblings deserve it, after all that has happened."

Rolan felt the shift in you, the way your body responded to his touch. He saw your eyes flutter shut, the shiver that ran down your spine, the subtle hints that you did not want him to pull away. It was all too familiar to the tiefling, a feeling he had tried so hard to ignore.

His golden eyes widened slightly before a hint of mischievousness lit up his visage and played upon his lips. "Is that a hint of desire I see before me? Or am I merely imagining things?" He leaned forward, his voice a whisper of a tease.

You sucked in a breath as your cheeks dusted with pink. "I haven't the foggiest idea on what you're talking about." You muttered, a small pout on your lips.

You couldn't believe that you were caught, you were usually so good at hiding yourself

His smirk widened as he observed your flushed cheeks, that beautiful hue of pink that spread across them. Rolan reached out and brushed his fingers against your cheek, feeling the heat radiating from them.

“Oh, don’t give me that innocent look." The tiefling chuckled, leaning in closer. “I've seen the way you look at me." His voice lowered to a seductive purr as his thumb traced the contour of your lips. “I’ve felt the way your body quivers under my touch…”

Letting your eyes slip closed again, a breathy sigh left your lips as you tried to not arch into his touch though you gave him a crooked smile as another small jolt of pleasure hit you from his voice alone.

"And do you feel the same way Rolan?"

A low chuckle reverberated in Rolan's chest, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He moved even closer, closing the distance between them, his golden eyes gleaming with a fiery intensity, a mixture of passion and anticipation.

"Do I feel the same way?" He repeated, his voice laced with desire. "You have no idea how much I've longed to touch you…taste you...devour you completely."

Shifting your spot on the desk, you could feel your heart hammering in your chest. You didn't know how much you longed to hear those words spill from his lips.

"Well what's stopping you Rolan?"

Rolan's eyes darkened with desire as he took in your words. Lust. Affection. He needed you.

"Absolutely nothing."

With a swift and fluid motion, Rolan stood up from his seat, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you closer. He pulled you against his body, his slender frame pressing against yours.

"Gods, you don't know how hard it's been, not being able to touch you this entire time." His lips sought yours, capturing them in a hungry kiss.

Melting into the kiss, you let your eyes slip closed. Your fingers clutching his cloak tightly, you wanted this too, for so long, you didn't want it to end. Your body and mind were craving more, more of him, more of this.

Rolan's tongue danced and tangled with yours, his touch possessive yet gentle. His hands roamed your body, caressing, exploring every contour and curve, desperate to feel more of you.

He deepened the kiss, tilting your head back slightly to delve deeper, to claim you completely. His slender frame pressed further against you, pinning you to the table as his hips grinded gently against yours. A low groan escaped from deep within his throat.

You felt a moan escape your lips as you pressed more into him. Your hips grinding back as your nails dug deep into his shoulders. Your body felt hot, it tingled with desire, desperate as you rubbed yourself into him craving more.

Rolan growled low in his throat as you rocked your hips against his, the friction driving his body wild with desire. His hands grasped your thighs, gripping the supple flesh before slowly sliding up to your rear, cupping your backside.

The tiefling broke from the kiss and pressed his face into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. His lips claimed your flesh, showering your collarbone with hungry kisses and love bites.

Arching your neck out, you let your hands drift to his back as your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively rutting into him. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, his name spilling from your lips.

A low groan rumbled in Rolan's chest as your legs wrapped around him, trapping him in place. His hips rocked against you, matching your rhythm. The friction sent a wave of pleasure through his body, intensifying his desires.

He pressed his lips to the crook of your neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. His breath came in hot puffs against your skin as he whispered your name, his voice hoarse with need. "... Gods, you drive me mad, my love."

Doing your best to catch your breath, you looked up at him with wide eyes. Lips swollen as you placed a kiss against his jaw nipping at the skin.

"Please take me Rolan, I need you."

Rolan's breath hitched at the sound of your desperate plea. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat as he tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"With pleasure, my dear." His voice was a whisper in your ear, laden with a heady mix of desire and need. The tiefling knocked the rest of his papers off his desk as he pushed you down on to the desk. "I can not wait for you to shout my name, be as loud as you want my dear...know one will hear you." He whispered against your neck.

[forgeofthenine]

This isn't a request or even something that was on my personal idea list, but I just got a bunch of dental work done today and I needed this for myself. There's no better comfort than that from a tiefling :)

Let's stay here

The door shuts with a clap, a slumped figure stumbling their way over to the four poster bed and falling face first onto the duvet. A huff leaves them as hair and limbs spread over the blanket, face never lifting as they mope.

Rolan looks up to watch the sorry display and quirks an eyebrow. Rising from his seat, he peers over at the lump dead centre in his bed. "Can I assume you're having a bad day, or was it really that treacherous a trek up my tower?" He asks, receiving only a second huff in response.

The sound of soft footfalls fills the room as he pads closer, reaching out to brush a hand down their back. Sweeping the mess of hair away from the neck now bare to him, Rolan leans in to press a soft kiss to the nape. "Oh, my Love, what am I to do with you?" The tiefling tuts, wrapping his arms around their middle to lift his partner back to their feet. "Come now, up with you."

Once their face leaves the bedding it finds a home in Rolans shoulder instead, a whine leaving them low in their throat. "Mmm, don't feel like it." Their voice is muffled by the soft robes they press into, hands desperately gripping at Rolans clothing.

"Ah, well isn't that just too bad." He teases, arms firm around their middle, tail winding tight around their leg. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong. Let's just stay here a while, hmm?" The question is soft, a light purring rumbling in Rolans chest as he sways the two lightly.

[underdark-dreams]

I'm finishing up a Rolan proposal fic for a very patient anon & ended up with this little scene between Rolan and Dammon that I don't think I'll use. Thought I'd post it here as a drabble! 💗

Rings

Rolan commissions a very particular piece for his beloved from the infernal blacksmith. [541 words]

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

“Are you sure it’s the right size?”

Rolan turned the smooth metal over in his hand, trying to compare it against his own fingers for reference. The material gleamed luminous and silver-blue even under the shade of Dammon’s open workshop.

“It’ll fit,” Dammon told him with surety. He wiped a hand on his apron and watched with no little pride as Rolan examined his past weeks’ handiwork. “I forged a few pairs of gauntlets for them back in the day. I’d like to think I know a thing or two about Tav’s hands. Professionally,” he hastened to add, perhaps noting the way Rolan’s brow twitched.

“Maybe so, but—”

“I know, I know. Tav deserves perfection.” Dammon gave his placid smile.

“Yes.” A bit chagrined by the obvious strength of his feelings, Rolan made no other response. As he turned the band over again, his eyes caught very fine lettering engraved around the inner surface. He peered closer—the marks were Infernal.

“Ah.” Dammon shifted nervously on his feet. “I hope you don’t mind the addition. It just—came to me.”

“‘Strength in Unity’,” Rolan translated under his breath. He glanced up at Dammon. “The watchwords of Elturel?”

Dammon rubbed the back of his neck in a characteristic gesture, but a shadow passed over his face. “You know, in terms of cities and their mottos…that one always rang a bit hollow to my ear. After everything.” He exchanged a long glance with Rolan. “If anyone deserves to reclaim the words, I thought it ought to be the two of you.”

Rolan stared back down at the ring on his palm. In a rare moment, he found himself rather lost for words. Then he slipped it carefully into the pouch at his belt and began counting out gold pieces.

The smith raised a hand, but Rolan cut him off before he could start. “Dammon, whatever the hells you’re about to say, keep it to yourself. This is fine work, and I’ll be damned if you don’t take the other half of the fee.”

“Couldn’t you consider it a wedding gift? For the two people responsible for getting me to Baldur’s Gate in one piece. Or even,” Dammon proposed hastily, “a reward for letting me work with such rare material.”

“Then keep what’s left over,” Rolan told him. He tucked his coin away as the idea for a compromise sprang to mind. “Make something incredible from it.”

“That—” Dammon’s eyes grew wide for a moment. “That’s quite generous. Do I even want to know how you found such a pure chunk of mithril?”

“We have friends in the Underdark,” Rolan answered tersely. “I may have…funded a small expedition.”

Dammon only gave a low whistle. If anyone could grasp the cost of such an undertaking, it was a blacksmith. Then he extended a calloused hand, and Rolan clasped it in a wordless agreement.

Finding the matter resolved, Rolan turned toward the front gate of the forge. The gleaming ring stored at his belt had introduced a very distracting flurry of butterflies into his stomach.

“Hold on there—” Dammon stooped to fetch something from underneath his work bench. As he straightened, a small hide bag sailed through the air into Rolan’s surprised grasp.

“You’ll be needing the other one.”

[rinwellisathing]

So since I've started posting drabbles not only OC asks but also drabble prompts and suggestions for any of my AUs, OCs, or pairings I do.

[justcallmefox89]

Submission: Chapter Two - Consequences

Drakul has reached the end of his very limited patience with a certain wizard.

It had been four days, four bloody days, since Drakul and his merry group of misfits had appeared at the Grove with wild promises of aid against the druids and the goblins.  But as far as Rolan can tell the under-elf hasn’t accomplished anything of note.  Oh, he’s charmed the other tieflings surely, especially Cal and Lia.  And he manages to flirt with Dammon every chance he gets, flustering the usually oblivious weaponsmith until he’s a blushing mess.  Not that Rolan cares who Drakul flirts with, of course he doesn’t.

What he does care about is the way Drakul looks at him, watches him when he thinks Rolan doesn’t notice.  The way the drow’s eyes linger over his form, drinking in every inch of his body like it’s water and he’s a man dying of thirst.  And when Rolan dares to meet his eyes Drakul smirks at him, impish and lascivious, crimson eyes widened in faux innocence.  It’s maddening, the reactions Drakul can tease from him with just a look… and even more infuriating is that Rolan finds himself enjoying the attention, even searching out Drakul’s flirtatious gaze on occasion, eager to once again feel the heat that races over his skin every time their eyes meet.

With considerable effort Rolan wrenches his thoughts away from Drakul and back to more immediate concerns, namely getting himself and his siblings to Baldur’s Gate as soon as possible.

“We should have left by now!  Damnation!” he growls for the umpteenth time, scowling at his siblings.  “Instead we’re just sitting here- practically begging to be attacked.  Staying is a mistake.”

His sister glares right back, ready to retort but is interrupted by approaching footsteps.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Karlach says, hefting her battle axe on her shoulder.  “The tieflings need help.”

“And what about us?” Rolan argues.  “There’s every chance we’ve doomed ourselves by helping these people.  We will end up fodder for some goblin’s blade – all because Lia insists on helping every wounded foal we see.  Our best chance is to make it to Baldur’s Gate own our own.  This place is lost.”

Drakul snorts and mutters something in the drow tongue, too low for Rolan to make out, but the tone is clearly disparaging.

“Something to add?” Rolan sneers.

Drakul laconically shrugs one shoulder and continues cleaning bloodstains from his sword with a damp cloth.  He pointedly avoids Rolan’s gaze, refusing to acknowledge the patronizing tone of the wizard’s voice.     

“Why the rush to leave?” Gale, the human wizard and only sufferable member of Drakul’s company as far as Rolan is concerned, interjects.

Rolan sighs.  “My apprenticeship with Lorroakan begins shortly.  I cannot be late.”  He pauses to allow the revelation sink in.  “Yes, that Lorroakan.  The greatest wizard in Baldur’s Gate.”

Gale hums in contemplation.  “I’ve heard that name before.  A young man, yes?  Lives in Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City?”

“The very same.” 

“Word in Waterdeep is that he’s a bit of a cad.  But you say he’s an accomplished wizard?”

“Of course he is!” Rolan scoffs.  “The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast.  As if I’d settle for a lesser mentor.”

“Of course he is!” Drakul mimics him, chuckling and sheathing his blade.  He rolls his eyes.  “You colnbluth are rarely as powerful as you believe yourselves to be.  ” 

“In that case, I’d very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city,” Gale cuts in, shooting Drakul a warning look.  “One can never have too many powerful acquaintances.”

“If it’s powerful acquaintances your after, you have to look no further than yours truly.”  Rolan preens, brushing down his robes.  “Few can match me – in either magic or talent.”

“Then by all means, oh great and powerful magus, please rid these wilds of all the dangers you will face on your journey to Baldur’s Gate,” Drakul drawls, lowering himself into a deep bow.  “Surely one so powerful as yourself will have no issues eliminating these obstacles posthaste.”

Rolan gasps, outraged.  “You dare speak to me-”

“I will speak to an arrogant child however I like,” Drakul replies calmly, straightening up and meeting his eyes.

Knowing their elder brother’s temper and the storm that will soon be coming, Lia and Cal take several steps away from the pair.  Barely a heartbeat later, Gale and Karlach follow them to safety.

“Arrogant child?” Rolan sputters, completely incensed.

“What else would you have me call you?  You sit here, behind the safety of these walls, whining and complaining.  You do nothing to aid your kin or assist in your escape from this place.  Oh you posture and you brag about how powerful you are, how easily you could vanquish the goblins… but like a child you cower behind the true warriors.  You disparage our efforts, my efforts, extolling your own virtues like a puffed up iblith, unconcerned with anyone or anything else.  Do you think I choose to be here?  That my companions and I are just on holiday, that we have nothing better to do than solve the problems of other people?  You take for granted the fact that we give over our might and our talents to your cause and have agreed to protect you and your people.  Thankless, egotistical child.”  Drakul steps toe to toe with Rolan, so close that their chests brush together, and stares down at him with cold, furious eyes.

Rolan grits his teeth, his anger flaring even as his traitorous body responds to Drakul’s close proximity.  He breathes in deeply in an attempt to calm himself, but only succeeds in dragging more of Drakul’s delicious scent into his nostrils.  Beneath the smells of sweat, musk, and blood, which even under pain of death will Rolan never admit that he finds deeply erotic in their own profane way, he smells the scents he associates only with Drakul… night-blooming flowers, sandalwood, and evening twilight. 

“You pompous, self-important, high-handed bastard!” Rolan hisses.

Drakul lashes out, catching Rolan’s jaw firmly with one hand.  He tilts Rolan’s face up so that he can stare directly into his eyes.  Rolan flushes a deep burgundy as his cock thickens in his trousers, licking his lips and involuntarily swaying closer to Drakul, painfully aroused by even this fleeting touch from the drow.

Something Rolan can’t quite decipher flashes across Drakul’s face, but it is quickly replaced by stern, uncompromising authority.  He leans towards Rolan, bringing his mouth close to the tiefling’s ear.  Rolan shudders and his cock grows even harder as Drakul’s warm breath ghosts over the sensitive shell of his ear.

“Usstan'sargh wael!  I am Drakul’ayne, eldest son and weapons master of the noble and honoured House Barri’mtor.  I am a lord, and you will give me the reverence I am due.  Am I understood, little wizard?” Drakul growls, his deep voice rumbling low in his chest.

Rolan nods wordlessly, for once eager to obey another.  To please. 

Drakul draws back, a faint smile on his lips as he carefully studies Rolan’s face.  “I asked you a question, Rolan.”

“I understand,” he answers, nodding rapidly.

“I understand, what?”

Rolan scowls, realizing what Drakul wants but reluctant to give it to him.  He hesitates long enough for the smile to slip from Drakul’s face, replaced by a look of disapproval. 

“I understand, my lord!” Rolan blurts out, tension seizing him at the thought of disappointing the paladin.

Drakul smiles at him then, bright and dazzling, releasing his jaw and gently brushing the backs of his fingers against Rolan’s ridged cheek.  “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Rolan flushes with equal parts shame and pride at the praise.

“Uh, Drakul?” Karlach call hesitantly, shuffling from foot to foot.  “We need to get going.  Astarion is waiting.”

Drakul huffs and rolls his eyes.  “And just when we were getting somewhere,” he grumbles under his breath, taking a small step away from Rolan.

Rolan mourns the sudden loss of his heat and internally curses Karlach, wishing for nothing more than to keep basking in Drakul’s presence, reveling in his fleeting touches and authoritative words.

“Be good for me, little wizard,” Drakul says, tapping the tip of Rolan’s nose with his forefinger, the seemingly innocuous words a thinly veiled command.

“I… um…yes,” Rolan stutters.

Drakul wordlessly arches one white brow.

“Yes, my lord,” Rolan quickly amends.

Drakul’s eyelids flutter and he releases a quiet, slightly obscene groan, just loud enough for Rolan to hear.  “Such a good boy,” he whispers, before turning and quickly rejoining his comrades.

Rolan stays rooted to the spot, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he gasps for breath, aroused and furious.

How dare he?!  How dare he speak to me like that!  And what the hells is wrong with me that I… that I…

Rolan huffs and crosses his arms, unable to even finish the thought.  Cal and Lia approach him slowly, trying to gauge his mood.

“So uh… that was something,” Lia says slowly, biting back a smile.  Cal elbows her, unable to conceal his own smirk.

“Oh shut up!” Rolan snarls, shoving past his annoying siblings, eager to find some place where he can be alone and sort through the confusing jumble of feelings and thoughts Drakul has awakened within him.  He unobtrusively tugs at the front of his trousers, annoyed to find himself still hard and wanting.  Yes, some place with a bit of privacy would be welcome right about now.

[newtabfics]

Can I get a Rolan x sorcerer tiefling reader please? Wizard x sorcerer is a funny pairing since they have so much beef with one another and man do I love tieflings, they can hold tails❤🥺 But anyway it can be either nsfw or not...or both 👀 no complaints about that.

So this is becoming a full fic. I'm working on it still so have a blurb from it:

There was the blur of passing people and laughter and drinks before he finally found himself pushed against the door of the room she was renting at the inn. His hands scrambled to touch her, gripping her rear as he pulled her up his body for a deep kiss. His mind grew hazy as his tail twitched. He grunted and pressed himself against her. She could feel his hardness against her stomach through the robes and layers of clothing. "Use your words, Rolan," She ordered, nipping and biting at his neck. "What d'ya want, Wizard?"

Current word count at 960.

[fic--writer]

The observant Astarion notices that Tav and Rolan have been spending more and more time together. He decides to clarify this with Tav:

"So, are you and the new Archmage a thing now?"

Tav shrugs, anticipating an awkward conversation, and nods at him, but he doesn’t relent.

"Of all the people you could have chosen, you picked him?"

"Well, I guess I have a weakness for grumpy wizards."

"Or for big towers..." - the vampire says casually and grins.

"What?"

"Darling, I mean, to put up with that tiefling’s foul temper, there must be a really good reason. So, my question is — just how big is his tower?"

"???"

"👀"

Tav, stunned by such brazenness, pinches the bridge of nose:

"Astarion! It’s definitely not your business."

"Ah... how boring. And spare me the moralizing! I was just hoping for some juicy gossip."

[daisyofwaterdeep]

[Accidental Confessions]

!NSFW! Rolan/Femcis Reader Mutual Pining, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Sex 5.3k

Rolan accidentally spills a love potion on himself. When you come to visit him, he can't hold himself back.

~~~ Being an employee at Sorcerous Sundries has it's perks--getting to hang out with Loroakan's new apprentice being one of them. You often muster up the courage to chat with Rolan during work hours, and though he seems stiff and nervous at first, he quickly warms to the environment. But when the beatings start, he starts withdrawing again. You try to talk to him about it, you show concern and worry, but he bats it all down with a few curt words. It absolutely breaks your heart. And then Loroakan dies. Rolan is busier than ever--you hardly ever see him at the ground floor, but that's fine by you, because when you do see him, he's happy. Tired and overworked, sure, but so happy that your heart aches with your own happiness. You do get a chance to chat with Cal and Lia quite often, and you live off of the scraps that they nonchalantly give you about their brother. How he can be quite stubborn. How he's a picky eater. How he snores. All of these tiny little glimpses of Rolan, filling out your fantasies of what life could be like, if only you had the courage to actually confess. When Cal and Lia are out of town, though, you try to check on Rolan a few times a day, bringing him food and drink, because you know he would forget to nourish himself otherwise. Even though he's neck deep in work, he always expresses appreciation with a soft smile during these moments. You tell yourself that it's all you need.

But one of these visits goes quite differently.

You worry your hands over your dress one last time before you go through the portal, a tray of tea and cake in hand (you always try to indulge Rolan's sweet tooth when you can). Rolan doesn't appear to be on the first floor, and a quick glance at the desks on the various balconies brings up nothing. Wondering if he may have slipped out while you were busy downstairs, you carefully make your way up the nearest set of stairs to get a better look, pondering if you should call out his name.

But then you hear him-- a low, pained groan, followed by hurried breathing. Your head turns to the sound, and you spot a pair of feet from behind several stacks of books on the ground.

"Master Rolan?" You hurry over, tea sloshing. It looks that he had been removing all the books from one of the shelves, likely to sort and catalog them. Did he fall and hurt himself?

Worry clots your throat as you round the stacks and he fully comes into view at your feet. He's got his back propped against the half-empty bookshelf, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his hands clawing weakly at his robes. And his face-- well, you don't really know what to make of it. He looks to be in pain, but even with his furrowed brow and panting mouth, you know in your core that that's not entirely correct.

"R-Rolan!" You nearly throw the tray down as you fall to your knees beside him, hands fluttering over his heaving chest, not sure what's going on or what you can do to help.

Rolan's eyes flick up, as if only just noticing your presence. The rest of his body seems desperate, out of control, but his eyes...they're assured, steady, unblinking. And, you note with a chill, they're almost entirely black. His pupils have blown so wide that only the smallest sliver of gold rings around them, like an eclipse. "You," Rolan gasps, his hands stopping their incessant grabbing of his own clothes to grab at you instead, "Of course it's you..." He gives a short bark of a laugh that dwindles into a breathy sigh as his arms wrap around your back, drawing you close with a surprising strength, "It's always been you, hasn't it?" Being pulled into an impromptu hug by Rolan would have sent you into a tizzy in any other circumstance, but right now you know that you can't be distracted by your own feelings. Something is wrong, very wrong, and Rolan isn't in his right mind. What was he even talking about? Are you the cause of this, somehow?

"M-Master Rolan," You try to pull free from his grip, and as much as it pains you mentally to do such a thing, it seems to be nothing compared to the wounded sound that Rolan makes when you finally wrestle free.

"Please," Rolan begs, dark eyes never leaving yours, his hands still on your sides, "Don't leave me, I--" Rolan bares his teeth as he fights to catch his breath, "Something...something's wrong."

The absolute desperation written across his face has your own breath struggling to come and go.

"What happened?" As you say it you grab his hands, ignoring the little thrill it gives you, and hold them between the two of you. "Talk to me, Rolan. Are you hurt?"

"Hurt..." Rolan's head hangs but his eyes are still on your face, as if it's his duty to look at you, "It hurts, yes--" He groans, a mixture of pain and aggravation, and his back arches away from the bookcase as he draws your hands to his chest with a near painful grip. "Please touch me, touch me..."

You're too flabbergasted to fight back as your hands are forcibly dragged down his torso. Rolan moans at the contact, as if the touch is all that he's needed. Even through the fabric of his robes, you can feel him-- the hard ridges of his infernal ribcage, then the softness of his stomach, and then-- You yank your hands away before they get lower, heat flooding your face and cold waves of shock wracking your frame.

He's turned on. The revelation smashes into you like a hammer to the back of the head. There's no way, right? Rolan, strong, proud, perfect Rolan is currently writhing beside you with need. Your crush, your infatuation, your beautiful, unattainable daydream of a man...There's no way that he's currently drawing your hands back down, bringing them to the distinct outline that presses from under his robes, and it even gives a twitch as he catches you noticing it.

"Please?" Rolan's voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper as he stops your hands right above his erection, "Please, just...a little, I only need a little bit..." His hands squeeze your own as he pleads.

Your body is covered in goosebumps and you can feel your thundering heartbeat in your throat...and between your legs. But despite that, you know you can't take advantage of the situation. It would be too easy to give in, to touch him in all the ways you've fantasized, but you know just how wrong that would be. Because you know there’s something else at play here. Rolan isn’t like this–he would never lose his faculties in such a way.

"I-I can't."

His face goes slack, a look of completely devastated disbelief. You squeeze his hands back, trying to ignore the pang of guilt at making him look so, so heartbreakingly sad.

"Rolan, please listen." You clear your throat as his eyes look unwaveringly into yours. "You're not yourself. You don't want me. You're under the influence of something--a spell, or maybe a potion..."

Rolan shakes his head as you speak, first softly, then with more force, denying everything that you say.

"Yes, Rolan." You say firmly. "Please, I need you to think. You were clearing this shelf before I came in, weren't you? Did you open an odd book, scroll, anything?"

"No, you need to listen." The helpless desperation that Rolan's been soaked in up until this point disappears in an instant. His body stiffens as he sits up, sharp claws digging into the tender skin of your wrists as he pulls your hands to his chest. You can feel the hectic speed of his heart. "I want you," He groans and licks his lips, eyes darting down to your mouth for a brief moment before locking back onto your eyes with a fiery resolve, "I've wanted you for so long." He grimaces, eyes glossy with emotion, "Please. Please believe me."

Oh, he's making this very, very difficult. The sincerity that drips from every word threatens to swallow you into this fantasy-- but that's what this is. Some manufactured fantasy spun by some incredibly potent magic.

But even still, your resolve is wearing down, and fast.

You have to get help, but the risk of ruining Rolan's reputation puts you in a very tricky predicament. You can't go and fetch just anyone. If word gets out about this, Rolan would surely be embarrassed. Perhaps Tolna is still downstairs...she might be able to help?

You raise up on one knee, making to leave, but your foot connects with something on the floor. You snap your head to the side just in time to see a potion bottle roll unceremoniously across the carpet. It's uncorked, but the tapered neck has kept some of the contents inside-- a nearly translucent pink liquid sloshes inside of it before it connects with the handrail of the stairs with a small clink.

So it was a potion, after all. Even if you knew that Rolan was under the influence of something, there's the tiniest part of you that feels hurt. Crushed by your own naivety. Even if you know that it's a ludicrous notion--Rolan would never bother with someone like you, and even if he did, it certainly wouldn't be like this-- there was some thread of hope there, somewhere deep in your heart, that maybe he really did feel something for you.

But of course not. Ridiculous. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Did you drink that?" You turn back to Rolan and try to gesture to the bottle with your hand, but Rolan still has it in a death-grip. You nod towards it with your head instead. "Why would you do something like that?"

"What?" Rolan huffs, eyes never leaving your face, "What are you...?" He grimaces and tugs at your hands, a note of frustration furrowing his brow, "Are you teasing me?" That causes a flicker of happiness to light up his face, easing the tension from his jaw, "You're toying with me, aren't you?" And again his face shifts, taking on that serious edge of desperation he had before, his voice falling to an intimate hush, "You want me to beg for you, don't you? I can beg for you, if that's what you wish--whatever you want."

He's hardly making any sense-- you're really not sure if he's just too far gone to remember, or if he really didn't drink it. You can't think of why he would take such a potent love potion, so perhaps it fell on him while he was clearing the shelf....that makes far more sense. And with Loroakan being the bastard that he was, it doesn't surprise you in the slightest that he'd have something so nefarious on hand.

The story starts to fall into place, as well as a course of action. You need to take the potion bottle downstairs. Hopefully Tolna will still be at her counter, but if not, you can run over to the nearby apothecary. Once the potion is identified, you can get an antidote, and then everything will be okay.

But first...you have to pry yourself free from Rolan. That might be the most monumental task of all. But you have a little plan for that as well.

"Rolan," He perks up as you say his name, a small, hopeful smile shaking on his lips. "I need you to stay here, okay?"

"No." This smile disappears just as quickly as it had appeared. He shakes his head like a petulant child, sweating palms pressing your hands more firmly against his chest, "You're not leaving me."

"Just for a moment," You assure him, forcing a calm, even tone. "You said you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"

"Not this," Rolan frowns so hard that his chin dimples and his eyes shine with desperation. You realize that he's on the verge of tears. "Y-you can't leave me..." His eyes rake over your face, looking for any shred of mercy, before he hoarsley croaks out, "Please."

Oh gods. This might not just be a monumental task--it's shaping up to be an impossible one.

It's time to switch gears. Playing the calm, collected one isn't getting you a single inch, but playing his game might get you somewhere.

And it's for Rolan's sake. Completely for his sake. You aren't doing it for your own desires. Just merely...playing the game.

"Listen to me...darling." Your voice trembles at the edges and prickles of heat bloom on your face and chest, "I need you to be good and stay right here." You swallow thickly before adding, "You want to be good for me, don't you?"

The groan that leaves Rolan nearly fogs your brain completely over. He leans his head back against the shelf, his horns clacking dully against the wood and his adam's apple jerking roughly as the noise from his throat dwindles into a low, needy whine.

"Please," He pants, body rolling up in a pseudo-thrust before collapsing back to the ground in a mess of shivers, "Good boy...I'm your good boy..."

Such a simple phrase, and such a strong reaction...the excitement that wracks through your body is so potent that you actually feel numb.

No. No. You have to rein yourself in. You can't let yourself get swept up in Rolan's condition. If you took advantage of him right now, he would never forgive you. Fuck, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself.

"Th-that's right." You hurriedly say, mouth dry, "Be good for me, and stay right here." The squeak of your voice diminishes any sort of authority you hope to convey, but it's the best you can muster.

You've still got one foot on the floor and make to stand up fully, hoping the action will finally pry your hands free of Rolan's grasp--

"No!"

The force of the word is only matched by the force of which you're pushed back, tumbling to the floor unceremoniously and landing on your bottom. A shocked exclamation leaves you, but it's jerked from your lungs as Rolan pounces you, his full weight knocking you flat on the floor and pinning you.

All at once, the dynamic has shifted into something far more dangerous. Rolan's hair is falling out of it's neatly styled coif and frames his face as he looks down at you, a predatory glaze shining in his dark eyes. With his hair obscuring the light on his face, the angles look much more severe, and the gold of his irises damn near glow with their intensity.

What do you do? Do you fight back? Cold, brittle panic rises in your throat as you realize just what sort of position you're in. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in, and your legs have been rendered useless with his knees between them.

"Don't leave me," Even if his position gives him dominance, his voice is still pleading, desperate. "I-I need you. So please..."

"Rolan," You say carefully, voice tight, "Don't do anything you'll regret." You think to put your hands on his chest to keep him at bay, but fear touching him might send him into a frenzy.

"Regret...?" Rolan searches your face, trying to glean more understanding but seeming to come up short. "I don't regret adoring you."

He truly doesn't seem to understand the situation he's put you in. And perhaps you don't either, because your heart beats faster at his words, magic-induced as they may be. The initial fear you felt is now melting away into an uncertain excitement-- Rolan is on top of you, his knees pressed against your inner thighs, his lips parted and eyes glimmering with admiration. How many times have you dreamt of just this? How easy it would be to believe his sweet words, to believe that the man above you truly does want you.

"You don't." You're not sure if you're saying it more for his sake or yours. "Rolan, you don't adore me. You've been drugged and aren't thinking clearly." The words taste bitter, but you suppose truth often can be.

Rolan growls in frustration, and you hear his tail smack against something behind him.

"Why don't you believe me?" There's tension in his face, but it loosens as he shakes his head slowly, "What do I need to say for you to believe me?"

"You don't--"

"I do." Rolan drops from his hands onto his forearms, bringing your faces mere inches apart, "Fiercely."

Feeling his hot breath mixing with your own has your mind clouding over. All you can muster is the same two words.

"You don't..."

"Every day I look forward to you bringing me tea. To the point that I've been getting less work done, just waiting to see you." Rolan exhales harshly, in something like a disbelieving laugh, "Sometimes, I'll come downstairs just to watch you work. Just to catch another glimpse of you."

There's been plenty of times when you've been in the shop and caught him on the second floor balcony, but had he really been watching you? You'd always be too flustered to do nothing more than a cursory look before awkwardly continuing your work.

You don't have time to ponder it for too long because Rolan pushes on, his eyes commanding your attention with their fiery glow.

"I spend so many days sitting at my desk thinking of your smile....gods, and your laugh." He smiles at the memory, a soft, tender look that makes your stomach tumble, "The way your nose crinkles when you're really laughing. And the way you always fuss with your hair after you set a stack of books down."

Do you really do that?

Rolan's smile eases away. "And during everything with Loroakan, you always made sure I ate. And the washbasin under the desk-- you put that there for me, didn't you? So I could clean up after his beatings." His jaw clenches and a brief storminess darkens his eyes before softening, "You cared for me during that time, even when I pushed you away… I was horrible to you."

"You weren't horrible," You whisper, afraid your emotion will break your voice if you raise it any higher than this, "You were going through a lot."

He had been talking so coherently that you had almost forgotten the current situation, but reality comes crashing back when he whines deep in his throat and his body rocks above you.

"I don't deserve you," Rolan's body trembles and his eyes shine as they glance down at your lips, "You've shown me such kindness, and in return, I do nothing but defile you in my thoughts..."

His words catch you off guard to such an extent that you gasp--a breathy, deep noise that ignites Rolan's eyes. You've made a mistake. A very, very bad one.

"That's right," Rolan is matching your whisper now, body still impatiently rocking above you, "Every night I lie in bed thinking of you. Aching for you. You, under me... just like this." A groan rumbles deep in his chest and his nostrils flare, "Imagining how you'd say my name as I touch you. Taste you--" He practically hisses the word out as his body trembles, "Fucking my hand, wishing it was your pretty cunt stretched around me..."

"Rolan--" You practically wheeze, liquid fire rushing into your stomach as your hips jerk up from the floor, like they have a mind of their own.

"Yessss, ahh-- j-just like that," Rolan's eyes roll closed and his chest brushes yours as he lowers down. When his eyes flick back open, he almost seems like a different man. Starved-- that's the word that comes to your mind, and it's an apt one, with the way the tip of his tongue dips out and curls, as if tasting the air between you two. "Again...say it again."

Don't. Don't do it. Do not stoke the fire. The warning’s buzzing through your brain, but there's a larger presence in your thoughts, chanting for him to do something. To prove that he wants you. To make good on all of his sordid fantasies. Even if it's all a lie, even if it's the potion's spell, you want it. Even if you shouldn't, you do. But somehow, you're still hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

When it's clear that you aren't going to say his name, Rolan whines deep in his throat and you can hear his claws scrape against the carpet on either side of you. It seems that he's holding onto the same thread.

"Please," Rolan leans down and brushes a heated kiss against your lips, "Fuck, please--" Another kiss, "Please, please..."

He's kissing you. It's not a daydream, even if the warmth and softness of his lips don't feel real to you. All you can do is lay there, slack, your brain rapid-firing with the sensations. The hot, hurried puffs of his breath from his mouth. The tickles of his hanging hair on the sides of your cheeks. The press of his perfect nose against the side of your own.

Even if your shock-induced limpness is both involuntary and possibly the best course of action, it backfires on you almost immediately.

As Rolan's kisses grow firmer, his lips push yours open, making the wetness of your inner lip catch on his own. That little touch of heated moisture has Rolan mewling, and all at once, his tongue is inside your mouth.

Your eyes fly open (wait, when had they closed?) and your hands come up to Rolan's chest to push him away, but his muscles are taut and he's locked in place, his hot, hungry tongue pressing past your teeth to lick along your own tongue. The muffled sound you make is a mixture of panic and surprise, but Rolan seems to take it as pleasure with the way he moans in response.

But maybe he's not too far off the mark. Even if you want to deny it, his tongue is divine. The way it tastes, the velvet feel of it, the way it pushes in deep before pulling away with a wet roll of his lips, only to enter you again. It's like your mouth is being fucked by him, and it's all you can do to not tip completely into ecstacy.

"Stop--" You try to break the kiss by turning your head, but his mouth only finds the curve of your neck, "Stop, Ro--aah!" His sharp bottom teeth drag roughly under your jaw before being soothed with a hot, desperate lick. "Stop," You gasp, though your hands ball into his robes, begging him not to, "R-Rolan, you have to--"

Your words choke off into a shameful whine as Rolan finally gives in and lowers his body to press against yours. He slots in perfectly between your legs, his hard cock pressed firm against your aching sex. The both of you stiffen and freeze, as if mesmerized by the mutual throbbing you can feel from underneath your clothes.

"O-oh," Rolan almost looks drunk with the way his head sways and his eyes glaze over, "Oh g-gods...I can't--"

It should be a comfort to hear. At the brink of ruin, Rolan has managed to regain himself. But the sigh you let out--from relief or disappointment, you're not sure which-- is cut off on a choked gasp as Rolan yanks the bottom of your dress up.

"Wait--" Your hands fall between you both, tangling in your dress as you try to pull it back down, "Wait, R-Rolan!"

It's like he can no longer hear you. His shaking hands push the front of his robe to the side and nearly snaps the lacings of his pants as he tears them open. You only get a glimpse of his cock before he thrusts his hips forward, rubbing the heated length of it against your panties. But what a glimpse it was-- thick, ridged, and damn near maroon with how blood-swollen it is.

Your mind reels as you're assaulted both physically and mentally with Rolan's body. The heavy drag of his erection against your clothed pussy. The soft scrape of teeth and wet heat of his tongue trailing down your neck to your chest. And the sounds Rolan is making-- he's groaning with such intensity that it rumbles in your ribs.

"I can't..." Rolan says again, but after another grumbling moan, he finally finds the remainder of his words, "I can't hold back anymore..." He raises his head with a lust-drunk sway to lock eyes with you once more, his brow bunched with his desperation and loose strands of his hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his forehead "I need you--fuck, I need you."

You want to get lost in those words, to savor the soft, needy delivery of them, to pretend that they were said under less dire circumstances, but you have no time for any of that. Because as soon as Rolan says it, his hand darts between you both and yanks your panties to the side and then you feel the maddening heat of his cock against the bare wetness of your pussy.

You try to cry out, but the sudden blast of fear racking through you grips your throat, only allowing a pitiful squeak to escape.

Please--" Rolan begins rutting into you, hips grinding fast and hungry, spreading your lips with his ministrations and easily gliding through the slick that's drenched your sex, "Wet, oh gods, so fucking wet--" He's babbling now, his words shifting between low groans and high, tight whimpers, "Wet for me-- you need this too, don't you? You need me...oh gods, need me to fuck you, f-fuck your pretty cunt, please--"

The head of his cock catches on your entrance, and you feel a pulse of hot liquid shoot from him, dribbling down your ass. Then all at once, he's inside you. It happens at a dizzying speed-- the deep burn of being stretched quick and full, the hot gush of semen, the snapping hips dragging you across the carpet in hiccuped jumps, the claws that grab and tear and sting your arms, all the while Rolan weeps, crumbling his body weight entirely on you.

"No," Rolan gasps in big, aching breaths as he sobs into your shoulder, "Nonono, I c-can't--" Hot tears fall on your neck, "Forgive me, p-please, forgive me--"

He raises his head and looks at you, his face twisted in equal parts despair and adoration, wet tear streaks carving shining paths down his gaunt cheeks. It's a direct contrast to the beastial breeding of his hips-- lovestruck emotion against mindless, animalistic instinct. And there's pain there, too. He came almost immediately, but his body just won't let him stop. His cock is still stiff and slamming into your cunt, the wetness of your sexes sucking and slapping lewdly under the chorus of his whimpers and cries.

A sob of your own retches from your throat. It's all too much. Even if it hurts, the churn of his desperate hips grinds against your clit with delicious abandon. And the way his hard cock curves and roughly drags inside of you, reaching so much farther than fingers ever could, stroking your walls with greedy need. It's all terrible in the most exquisite way-- the pain a sear, but the pleasure a rolling wave of heat that grows thicker and deeper with every thrust.

You're disgusted with yourself, even as you wrap your arms around Rolan's back and your heart sings with the warmth of his cheek against your own. You shouldn't be enjoying this. It was your responsibility to not let things get this far. But you wanted it. From the moment you knew what was happening, a part of you wanted exactly this. To have him cling onto you and tell you all the sweet things you've fantasized about countless times. To fuck you.

"Sorry," Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper as the heated tension in your gut begins tipping through your body-- "I-I'm so s-sorry, R-Rolan--"

And then your world shatters away as your orgasm is wrenched from you. Every synapse in your brain goes cold and your body shakes and tightens, his name cried out through numb lips as you clench hard around him, your body as desperate as your mind to keep him right where he is. Rolan. Rolan. Rolan. Every part of your being is consumed by him in that moment, and nothing else matters. Nothing else exists, other than him.

"That's it," Rolan's voice finds you in your pleasure-haze and enhances it with it's sweet tremble, "That's it, yes--fuck, ahh-- please, love you," He buries himself in you and stills, lips meeting yours as he babbles and his cock twitches and throbs deep in your cunt, "I love you, o-oh-- love you, please--"

Your climax had begun it's descent, but the feeling of those words sighed into your mouth makes another rush of rapture overtake you. You're only somewhat aware of the way you mewl, a wounded noise that dwindles and rises as your tongue finds Rolan's once more. Even with the hard edge of his desires satisfied, Rolan kisses you with no less passion, his moans of relief rattling your bones with their sheer intensity.

You could happily lay there kissing him like this for eternity, but now that the warmth of your desire is ebbing away, reality is setting back in. Disgust curdles in your stomach, sapping away any last dredges of an afterglow that remained.

You turn your head to break the kiss and Rolan pulls back, his eyes still uncharacteristically dark but more level than they had been since you found him. But with the beginning return of his facilities, you can't help but feel that he looks...lost. You can see the weight of the situation slowly creeping over him-- the distress. But even still, there's still heat behind those despairing eyes. The understanding of what's happening, but not the strength to stop himself.

"D...do you feel better?" You croak out, your throat feeling a wreck.

Rolan's lips move, but his voice fails him. For the first time, his eyes willingly leave your face, focusing instead on the carpet beside you. "It...hurts." He finally manages, his words so soft that they're almost inaudible.

That's enough to finally move you into action. Your entire body aches as you gently guide him off of you, the both of you hissing as his cock slips from you with a wet squelch. Rolan makes no effort to get up, instead rolling onto his back to look up at the high ceiling of the tower. You can't help but think that he looks gorgeous like this--chest heaving, hair in disarray, cock still twitching and stiff and slick with you. And then the disgust comes back and propels you to your feet.

"Sorry," You stammer, a fresh bout of tears threatening to spill down your face, "I'll...I'll get help."

Rolan whines deep in the back of his throat before he can stop himself. He drapes a hand over his eyes, like he wishes to shut out the world.

"Please," He gasps, voice gravelly with suppressed emotion, "Hurry."

You start to walk down the stairs you had ascended only shortly before. Each trembling step you take brings you a fraction more into reality. Regret, horror, revulsion....they build in your gut with each passing moment. By the time you make it to the other side of the portal, you're running from the tower, wishing you had never gone up to begin with.

[graysparrowao3]

Hello Rolan fans, I've been trying to catch up on all the amazing Rolan, Cal, and Lia fics (and please do feel welcome to share yours!) and I hadn't seen this one before and the writing is phenomenal so just wanted to share it with everyone.

It's by user cetacean and is a collection of drabbles (they have other great Rolan stuff too) that made my jaw drop. The collection is called "the grandiloquent grimoire of rolan the wizard: arcane prodigy & reluctant sibling"

Enjoy!