kayann9

[kayann9]

Green with Envy

Tav F! X Gale

Just fluff, tiny bit of swearing. No real context for it other than Gale being jealous and angsty for no real reason and I just love Wyll.

It's been while since I've posted anything but I'm trying to get the creativity going again. Thank you if you read it :)

He just had to be a warlock, didn’t he? And not just any warlock either: the intelligent, brave and selfless Blade of Frontiers. 

Gale slumped by the fire as Tav laughed out loud across the cavern.

This was a new feeling for him. This unconscionable ball in his chest that sat alongside the midnight orb, twisting and tangling as though it were a ball of prickling vines, lurched as he observed the pair from across the dry dirt. Wyll had not needed saving as he had. Wyll could use a sword. Wyll did not need to rely on the benevolence of strangers and cook every night in order to make himself somewhat of value.

Gale chopped the onion hard, the bulb flying from the stump as he did.

He knew he was being petulant to some extent. Hells, he even knew that Tav did not think him useless but something about this stranger, this seemingly wonderful man, had shaken his resolve. It had shaken his worth. It had shaken the assumption he had been under that she liked him as more than just a traveling companion. That their shared glances and the insistence that he was always near her was something he had conjured up in his imagination to fill the lonely void he had cultivated over the last year.

Another onion slammed against the floor and the knife stuck in the soft wood.

“Well, I would ask what the onion had done to you, but my powers of observation are good enough to work it out.” Shadowheart leaned against the tree, arms folded, and gaze pointed.

“Actually, the knife is relatively dulled. It is just requiring a little bit more force than the typical.” The lie tumbled from his lips smoothly, but he could tell from the tiniest quirk of her mouth that she did not believe it. “And they are particularly hardy bulbs even with an adequate knife. The stew requires them to be most finely chopped in order to allow the flavour to blend with that of the garlic.”

Shadowheart let out an almost imperceptible splutter. “Of course, do not worry yourself Gale, I shan’t pry any further into your cooking techniques.”

He was grateful to be left alone again. Back to analysing his own ridiculousness. Of course, he was being obvious; he was hardly known for his coyness, yet in this moment he had wished that he was able to hide a little bit more than he usually could. Jealousy was not something he had much experience with. In fact, looking back on his relationship with Mystra, it had been derided as ‘the most mortal of emotions’ and he had managed to escape its clutches for a period of time.

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

He allowed the feeling to force its way down into his stomach before trying to put it from his mind completely. He could do it. He could pretend he was free from it. He could pretend that he did not wish he was making her laugh that way and rue the fact that wonderful, likeable Wyll had taken more of her time.

“You are being ridiculous.” Gale muttered at himself before getting back to his food preparation. “Wyll is a kind and most pleasant of a person.”

“I know he is. What is for dinner?”

Gale jumped and the knife slipped in his hand, slicing across his palm. “Oh, by the -”

“Gale. Shit! I am so sorry. I didn’t even see the knife. I am so sorry.” Tav’s panicked lilt was only dwarfed by her actions as she grabbed for a cloth and tried to secure it around the wound on his hand.

Gale hissed. “It is quite alright.” His teeth gritted together in both aggravation at the deep laceration in his flesh and the fact that, once again, he required her help to solve yet another one of his problems. “I am fine. It is just a little cut. It will heal in no time all.”

Tav kept hold of the bloodied hand in the now bloodied cloth. “It was my fault. I crept up on you and I should have thought you would have something sharp. I am truly sorry. Let me help, I will go grab a potion and-”

“Tav, we are not wasting a potion on what is nothing more than a slightly aggressive paper cut.”

She took a step back, eyes widened at the curtness in his tone and he regretted it the moment he saw her eyes widen and her teeth bite the inside of her cheek. His flesh cooled as her hand released his.

“I, well, I at least can Shadowheart take a look at it if not me and I-”

Gale cursed his aggravation. “No, I am sorry. I am not angry. I promise I am not angry. I was a fool for using that tone with you of all people.”

At times, he did wonder why she put up with him and this was one of those times. Still, she smiled. He wondered what he had done to ever be graced by someone as seemingly sweet and patient as her; never demanding of answers, never judgemental.

Slowly, she grabbed his bloody hand. “Can I at least wrap it for you?”

Who was he to actually refuse her?

One look at those eyes and he would do whatever she asked. He sighed and gave her his hand, watching her as she wrapped it tightly in some cloth.

He couldn’t help but wonder when he had become so desperately in need of her; just her tending to a wound sent his brain into overdrive and even though he seemed to be more aware of his shortcomings as of late, he could not help but bask in the tenderness she showed him.

“Good as new.” Her grin lit up her face as she patted the bandaged flesh gingerly. “I am sorry. It was so stupid to startle you while you were preparing food.”

Gale waved it away. “It is not stupid. You are not stupid.”

“I was coming over to ask if you would like to come for a walk around the Grove? There was a cliff side by the beach and I was going to have a look, maybe take in the view?”

The tangled mess in his stomach that he had tried to swat away, unravelled as quickly as it had gotten there, and he could not help the brilliant smile on his face.

“There is nothing I would like more.” He flexed his fingers. “I would offer you my hand but-”

“You have another one, I can always use that.” She chuckled before grabbing the knife and finishing the chopping that she had so crudely interrupted.

[kayann9]

Weave and Woods Chapter 10: A Wondrous Thing

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

Auroria is exhausted from all the perils of the Shadow Cursed Lands and Gale tries his best to get her to actually sleep. The Harpers throw a party after a successful mission rescuing prisoners from Moonrise Towers.

He jumped up from the barstool and made a beeline for the door, pushing past a group of gnomes and two tieflings. Relief washed over him. They’re back, and they were successful. He went out into the courtyard, and saw her smiling and laughing, celebrating with some Harpers who had greeted her and Lae’zel first. She was safe, unharmed. She made eye contact with him and gave a small wave, which he returned. He felt his heart swell inside his chest, unable to be contained anymore. I love her.  He was a man possessed. He strode up to her, cutting through the Harpers, bypassing Lae’zel. He saw no one else but her. Only her. Always her.

AN: I love them so much. Thank you for reading this fluffy sweet chapter <3

“You look exhausted.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” Auroria yawned, her head resting on the bar at the back of the Last Light Inn. “I am exhausted.”

Gale pulled up a stool and sat next to her. It had been a long few days since they got to the Last Light Inn, and she had been going non-stop, sleeping only a couple hours here and there between a flurry of activity. There was finding Dammon and getting Karlach’s engine fixed, getting her ribs crushed by Karlach’s first hug (and thirty seven hugs after that in the past few days), discovering the mysterious man sleeping in the room on the first floor, delivering the news to Arabella that her parents were dead, saving Isobel from a corrupted Flaming Fist, defeating a caravan on their way to Moonrise towers which granted them a pixie’s blessing to be immune to the shadow curse, and now she was developing a plan to both infiltrate Moonrise Towers and rescue the tieflings and the gnomes from the prison. She and Lae’zel poured over maps from previous scouting missions with the Harpers for hours before nodding to each other, satisfied with what they came up with. That was when she went to the bar by herself and finally sat down for the first time all day. 

“Why don’t you go take the night off and get some sleep?”

“If I take a night off, then these innocent people are still needlessly trapped in a prison and could die. We told them to come this way - I feel responsible for them. Lae’zel and I are going to go to Moonrise tonight. We can sneak into the prisons easily under the guise of being True Souls, and we have a real chance to break them out without violence. Or much violence anyway,” she laughed softly, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to form in her eyes from her deep felt guilt about her part in the plight of the tieflings.

“I’m worried about you.” He said as he reached out, covering her hand with his. “You don’t have to take on everything - we are all capable. I’ve asked you before to let us carry more weight - a burden shared is a burden halved.” 

Her eyes softened as she turned to him and she gave him a half smile. “After being on my own for so long, it’s hard to relinquish control. Please understand me, I’m trying, but I’m used to doing everything myself. If you were talking to the Ora of six months ago, I’d already be at the towers alone, probably getting myself killed or something close to it. At least now, I have company who can talk me out of anything extremely rash when I let my feelings guide me instead of my brain.” She sat up straight, raising both arms over her head to stretch. She saw his eyes flick up and down quickly, trying to be subtle - the stretch was a calculated move on her part. “I promise I’ll sleep tonight. Full eight hours and everything, ranger’s honor.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thank you for worrying about me. It feels…nice. No one has worried about me in so long, I forgot what it felt like for someone to care if I live or die.” Auroria reached out this time, grabbing his hand, intertwining her fingers between his. “You’ve shown me that care since the beginning of this strange journey. And…it’s appreciated. I just want you to know that.” 

He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, a soft laugh escaping as he nodded. “Perhaps taking care of each other is what we do. You’ve done that for me since I confided in you about my condition, almost no questions asked. How could I not do the same for you? Our party would suffer greatly without you. I would suffer greatly without you.” 

“Well, I would imagine, since I’m the one who got all those magical artefacts for you,” she teased, trying to clarify for herself if he was speaking pragmatically or something else. She hoped it was something else.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Ora,” he said softly. 

Her face flushed slightly, the tips of her ears turning pink as she considered the implications of what he was saying. She leaned forward a little, closing some of the distance between them. 

“Hmm. And what did you mean then, Gale?” She smiled at him, her eyes taking in his handsome face as he looked at her like she hung the moon. Please let him love me , she pleaded to no one in particular. 

A throat cleared behind Gale. Auroria looked over his shoulder and saw Lae’zel, standing with her arms crossed. “It’s time.”

Auroria nodded, trying to mask her internal disappointment. “Alright, let me go get something I can smash things with.”

“Smash things?” Gale asked, brows furrowed in confusion, the lines between them becoming prominent. She loved those lines that showed up when he was deep in thought. 

Auroria smiled brightly at him. “We’re going to break down the back walls of the cells. The scouts said the tower hasn’t been maintained well so it should be relatively easy as long as we can get out before they realize what we have done.” She watched a smile grow on his face. “Good plan, don’t you think?”

“An excellent plan, though I’d expect nothing less from you. Take my quarterstaff, it’s been quite the asset for me, very useful in smashing, and I would love for it to be in your capable hands,” he said, motioning to the staff that had been leaning against the bar. 

“Thank you, I’ll return it in one piece when we get back, hopefully with freed prisoners and a good story to tell.” Feeling emboldened by their conversation, she kissed his cheek as she got up and picked up the staff, meeting up with Lae’zel who was already waiting on the other side of the room. 

“Well, things with you and Gale seem to be going…well,” she said. 

Auroria smiled. “I think so, too. Now, let’s go rescue some prisoners.”

******

Gale waited at the bar, watching the door for Ora’s return. After getting hugged no less than four times by Karlach, he sent her to hug Astarion, much to Astarion’s dismay. He heard the barstool next to him scraping as it slid back and found Wyll now sitting beside him. 

“I saw you and Ora talking earlier, before she left. It looks like things are blossoming between you?” he asked, having become a confidante to Gale over these past weeks regarding Ora. Gale couldn’t believe he was ever even remotely jealous of Wyll for being someone who so easily could wear his heart on his sleeve. He very clearly loved her as well, though Wyll took time to clarify after the Bibberbang incident that it was just in a friendly manner. The two had grown close ever since, finding they were similar in many aspects, namely matters of the heart. 

Gale nodded, “I must confess, I wasn’t expecting it. How could I? Cast aside from Mystra, cursed orb, locked in my tower for a year of my own volition, tadpole abduction. Who would have thought it would lead me to her?” He took a sip of wine. “Now with Moonrise Towers and Mystra’s command looming over me, I wonder if it is fair to continue on as we are. A small, hopeful part of me believes that time must not be wasted, though.”

“You know me, Gale, I am a romantic. I say go for it - don’t waste time. Love is the most powerful thing on this plane and is capable of working wonders.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I’ll think it over. Thank you, Wyll,” he nodded as Wyll got up to go get his hourly hug from Karlach, who was proving to be quite the menace now that she wasn’t dangerous to touch.

Hours passed. He tapped his fingers on his thighs as he drank wine and read from a book he had found laying around, forgotten by someone. Attempted to read, really - he had glanced over the same four pages at least ten times. He felt the tug of Mystra’s command once again and shook his head as he contemplated the moment of the Absolute’s destruction as well as his own, closing the book and downing the rest of his wine when he heard a commotion outside. They’re back.

He jumped up from the barstool and made a beeline for the door, pushing past a group of gnomes and two tieflings. Relief washed over him. They’re back, and they were successful. He went out into the courtyard, and saw her smiling and laughing, celebrating with some Harpers who had greeted her and Lae’zel first. She was safe, unharmed. She made eye contact with him and gave a small wave, which he returned. He felt his heart swell inside his chest, unable to be contained anymore.

I love her. 

He was a man possessed. He strode up to her, cutting through the Harpers, bypassing Lae’zel. He saw no one else but her. Only her. Always her. 

“Gale? Are you oka-” 

He put his hands on each side of her face and kissed her deeply, surrounded by cheering Harpers, and even a smiling Lae’zel, who he thought he heard say “ Tchk. Finally.” The feeling of her lips against his was everything he thought it would be - no, it was more. It was perfect. And when she closed her eyes and kissed him back? No magic in all the planes could even hope to compare. 

Reality came trickling back in, slowly, then all at once. He broke the kiss and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Ah, apologies, I got caught up in all the celebrations. Congratulations on a successful mission,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Ora laughed then, and handed him his quarterstaff back. “Well I suppose if that’s the reward for a successful mission, I’ll have to make sure to be successful more often.”

A Harper came up, shoving a cup of wine into their hands - everyone was in a celebratory mood, a tangible success after so much hardship and turmoil was much needed. She clinked her cup to his. “To a successful mission, a safe place to camp, and good company.” They both took a drink before she was pulled away by Karlach for a welcome back hug. They were surrounded by people and yet his eye was only drawn to her. Her bright smile and cheerful laughter were a salve in this blighted land. 

He raised his cup, “To you, Ora.”

The evening passed, the celebration finally dying down after the revelry lasted well into the night. He found Ora back where their day had started, with her head on the bar, struggling to keep her eyes open. Drink and lack of sleep were most likely taking a toll on her, though at some point in the evening she did have the foresight to remove her armor.

“Ora, I don’t think you will last another minute if we don’t get you to bed,” he said, sitting next to her again. She opened one of her eyes and smiled at him from her uncomfortable resting place. Oh, she is definitely exhausted.

“You want to take me to bed, Gale?” she giggled before sitting up and leaning over to him. “I want you to take me to bed, too,” she whispered in his ear. She is exhausted and definitely drunk.

He smiled and laughed softly. “Yes, I want to take you to your tent and put you in your bedroll so you can get that full eight hours you promised me this afternoon, remember?” He took her hand as she stood up and supported her as she walked so she didn’t lose her footing in her state. 

“Hmm, too much wine, not enough sleep,” she slurred, leaning against him. He tried not to think about how good she felt pressed to his side.  

“Yes, exactly.”

They continued walking to their campsite, nestled at the edge of Isobel’s ward to protect from the shadow curse. He led her to her tent, settling her down onto her bedroll, sitting beside her for a moment. Just until she falls asleep, he told himself.

“There we go. Now, eight hours, no less. If anyone even thinks about waking you up early in the morning, they will have to face an angry wizard armed with a fireball and a big stick.” That got a laugh out of her as she got comfortable. He would cherish that sound until the end of his days.

“My hero.”

He moved to get up, to allow her her privacy but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Stay with me tonight?” His heart dropped. He wanted to more than anything, but not with her in this state. He didn’t want to take advantage of the situation, but he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings, put any cracks in this beautiful night, this wondrous thing happening between them. He smiled and kissed the back of her hand.

“I would love nothing more, Ora, but you need to sleep, and I need to be able to guard your tent in the morning.” He moved to cover her up as she hummed in agreement, eyes already closed. He brushed a stray hair from her face and stayed beside her until her breathing deepened and she fell into a serene, restful sleep. 

Back in his tent, he thought he might explode, even with the orb stabilized. He wanted to tell her everything. His feelings, his fears, his desires. He wanted to kiss her without apologies, without excuses about being swept up in the moment. He wanted to hold her in his arms while they made love under the stars. He wanted it all with her, and hoped that she wanted the same, even considering…everything. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her, and he knew exactly how.

I love her.

[kayann9]

Forearms

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Dani) Summary: Set immediately after this fic about Dani settling into a new life with her companions on the road, Dani offers to mend Gale's robe. Which involves him having to take it off, naturally. (no smut, just Dani being ridiculous about Gale's forearms) A/N: This is 100% the moment where Dani is like "oh no he's hot." She thinks everyone is hot, but this is the moment where Gale starts to rise above everyone for her. It's silly, it's stupid, and I wrote it like months ago, but y'all asked for it lmao also yes this does adhere to the Gale Wrap Shirt Theory (I just borrowed Astarion's shirt because I don't have mods)

Dani stretched out her back and got to her feet, leaving behind her now-sorted camp supplies to make her way over to Gale and his cooking fire. She peered down into the pot before looking at Gale. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Stew,” Gale said, smiling apologetically. “I hesitate to give it any more of a descriptor than that. Oh, and a few leftover loaves of bread, too. Might as well use them up before they go bad. I think one of them was starting to mold…”

He said this last line to himself, turning to rifle through the box that contained most of their food. He pulled out a small, torn half-loaf of bread and examined it, turning it this way and that before tearing it and peering inside. Dani reached over and plucked the smaller half from his fingers, claiming it for herself. She tore off a bit and popped it into her mouth.

“Seems decent to me,” she said.

Gale looked briefly alarmed before shaking his head, amused. “You’d probably eat it even if it had mold on it.”

“Not true. I’d scrape the mold off first and eat around it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She raised her eyebrows at him as she pulled off another bite of bread to eat, silently challenging him to judge her.

Gale made a face but didn’t respond, turning back to his stew and flicking his wrist. The spectral mage hand that was stirring the pot lifted the ladle for him to inspect. He picked up a small spoon from his utensil set (of course he had a utensil set wrapped in leather, a hodgepodge set he’d collected over the last couple of days, but that he kept packed away like it was some sort of adventurer’s kit) and used the spoon to taste the broth in the ladle.

“Hmm…nearly there, I think,” he said. He let the mage hand go back to stirring while he wiped his spoon on a bit of cloth he had tucked into his belt. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for my spice shelf. Or just some extra salt.”

“Just add it to the list of things we’ll buy as soon as we see any,” Dani said, still eating her bit of bread piece by little torn piece. “I know I have a running list of my own.”

“Far be it from me to add to your growing shopping list of potentially expensive and ever practical items,” Gale said dryly, “but if you do happen to find a small case of salt, or any spice really, I think we’d all be a little better for it. It shouldn’t detract too much from your funds. I know you’re careful with your money.”

She arched an eyebrow. As the team’s craftiest barterer, she was in possession of most of the money, and her companions had already watched her haggle and cajole until a price was a bit closer to where she’d prefer it to be. Sometimes it took a minute.

She thought about pointing out that she was “careful” with her gold for a variety of reasons, including stocking up an emergency fund for magical items should his arcane hunger trigger and she find herself without something to give him. But she stayed silent, watching him pull a few herbs from their food box and set them on a flat rock he’d taken to using as a cutting board. He sat with the rock in his lap, cutting the herbs up with a dagger that he kept on hand for food preparation. As he turned to hold the rock over the cookpot and brush the chopped herbs into the stew, she noticed a bit of white peeking through his purple robe sleeve, right at the shoulder seam. A tear in the fabric.

“Take off your robe,” she said.

He jolted, nearly dropping the rock and dagger directly into the stew. “I beg your pardon?” Maybe it was the firelight and the darkening shadows of dusk, but Dani could have sworn his face was suddenly pinker than before.

“Your robe,” Dani said, tossing the last bit of bread into her mouth and holding out her hand. “Take it off. You’ve got a tear.”

“Wha—a tear?” Gale looked all down his arms and the front of his robe before twisting his neck to spot the rip in his shoulder. “Argh, damn. This was one of my better robes, too…”

Dani snickered and gestured for him to get on with it. “Come on, hand it over. I’ll fix it for you.”

“What—now?” 

“Why not? You’re busy. Everyone else is busy—well, except Astarion. And I can mend it for you.”

Gale looked a little surprised. “I didn’t know you could mend.”

She shrugged. “My mother is a seamstress and I used to help her out every now and again. Plus, when you’re on the road, you have to keep up with a few skills. You’re just lucky we have a bit of needle and thread on hand. So.” She gestured again with her hand.

Gale squirmed as if uncomfortable. “I’m sure it can wait. The stew is nearly ready and we’re all about to dress down for the night. I can give it to you then.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Gale. If it was armor Lae’zel would be hounding you until you gave it up for her to fix. If it was your spellbook you’d want to mend it as soon as possible. Just take it off and let me do it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands, his face still a little flushed, but he acquiesced. He undid the belt around his middle and tugged off his leather bracers before finally untying the robe and shrugging it off. He still looked a little sheepish, but he willingly handed the robe over to her. 

The moment the robe was off, something shifted in Dani’s mind. She realized only then that she’d only ever seen him either fully dressed in his robes or in his velvety lounge clothes, but never in just his white wrap shirt and high-waisted pants. She paused a moment, her eyes roving over his form. In just his shirt, pants, and boots, he cut a trim figure, looking a bit like one of the handsome men drawn on the covers of tawdry romance novels she used to read back in Baldur’s Gate. Especially when he set one hand on his hip and frowned faintly at her, his earring glinting in the firelight.

“I hope it won’t take too long,” he said.

She blinked. Oh right, the robe. “It’s a simple tear, super easy to fix,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She turned and hurried away, her own face feeling a little warm. Was she honestly thinking…no. Well—maybe. Gale was handsome. No point in ignoring otherwise. But Gale in just a shirt and trousers? Or, perhaps, Gale in just his trousers…or, going further, Gale in nothing but—

Gods, Dani! She mentally shook herself and sat back down at her bedroll, digging her sewing kit from her bag. Now was not the time. She said she’d mend his robe and she would, so she had better get started.

But mending was mindless work for her, leaving her alone to her thoughts, so of course her mind drifted back to the subject of Gale as she dragged needle and thread through the purple fabric of his robe. Why was she only now struck by how handsome he looked? Sure, she’d flirted with him before, but she flirted harmlessly with everyone in camp. It wasn’t her fault she was surrounded by attractive companions. But Gale…

She glanced surreptitiously at him as he worked by the cooking fire, his focus on the food. He’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows to keep his cuffs away from the food, which was honestly worse for Dani. Rolled up sleeves and forearms? She could just swoon. She watched as he packed away unused food items and utensils, muscles in his forearms flexing, the dark hair on his arms made darker by the dusk and firelight. He stood back and rested both hands on his hips as he watched the stew, his white shirt stretching a little more tightly across his chest.

She bit her lip and focused back on the robe. Just get it done, girl, and then give it back so you can go back to thinking he’s just a fun, quirky wizard nerd and not the hottest guy in camp.

Oh gods, if only.

...was he the hottest guy in camp? 

She glanced around quickly at Astarion, still lounging with his book. His lips made a pretty pout as he read and his hair was damn near perfect, but he didn’t make Dani’s heart flutter in quite the same way the sight of Gale in his wrap shirt and rolled up sleeves did. She searched for Wyll, walking around in his ragged black tank and black trousers, his biceps glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he carried the last of the firewood over to Gale. Even with his devil horns, he was an attractive man. Dani was tempted to think he was even hotter than Gale—until Wyll set the fire down near Gale and Dani was forced to compare the two of them again.

…damn. What was it about Gale?

Gale glanced her way, raising his eyebrows at her questioningly when he caught her staring. She felt her heart go ba-dump like some cliche heroine in a romance novel and she quickly lowered her gaze back to her work.

Damn it. It was his eyes wasn’t it? His big, stupid, wet brown eyes, made darker and richer in the evening light. That and those stupid forearms she’d never seen before.

She almost wished she could go back to fifteen minutes ago, when she thought Gale was “handsome enough” but not exactly tempting. Not with Astarion smirking at her from across the campfire and Wyll flirting with all of them, not to mention all the flirting she’d done with Karlach and Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. She forced her attention back on the final stitches, determined to get this robe fixed as soon as possible.

She finished the last stitch and knotted the thread, giving the fabric a little tug on either side of the mended seam to test the strength of her work. Not bad, she had to admit. It almost looked as good as new.

She looked back at Gale and then down at the robe. She should give it back. Right now. Immediately. But…then again…if she kept it longer, he’d have to walk around without it longer. Which meant more eye candy for her, in theory. She pursed her lips, glancing back at Gale again.

No! She had to give it back. Now or never, Dani!

She got to her feet and walked back over to the fire, his purple robe tossed over her arm. He looked up from the cookpot again as she stopped near him.

“All finished?” he asked. “You do quick work.”

“Thanks,” she said, holding out the robe to him. Be casual, Dani girl, don’t be odd. “I’m famished. How much longer until dinnertime?” Success!

“Any moment now, I suspect.” 

He took the robe and examined the seams, running his thumb over the stitches. She was caught up watching his hands, admiring the perfect shape of his nails and how long and slender his fingers were. A pianist’s hands, she thought idly. An artist's hands. The kind of hands she'd want drawing patterns on her skin, fingers curling into her softer parts, sliding up her thighs to—snap out of it!

She sucked a short breath through her nose, trying to distract herself. Her gaze traveled up to his wrists, and then his bared forearms. There was a faint hint of ash lingering in his arm hairs from standing so close to the fire. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed it away. He looked up, surprised and she snatched her hand back, hiding it behind her back like she’d done something wrong.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just some—some ash. You should probably put that robe back on. As soon as possible, probably.”

Oh gods, she could just die.

Gale stared at her a moment before glancing at his arms again and then the robe. She saw something shift in his expression as his eyes came back up to meet hers, but she dared not interpret it. That, she thought, would be a dangerous mind game and her imagination was already working overtime.

“Well,” she said, and hated how weirdly breathless the word came out of her mouth. She cleared her throat. “I’ll go fetch the others, then, shall I?”

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel and hurried away, intending to go after whoever was the furthest away from the cook fire. Surely she’d cool off in the time it took to gather everyone. Fantasies were for bedtime, not right before dinner when the object of her fancy was right there.

But when she finally returned after all that, he was still standing in his wrap shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He hadn’t even put the robe back on. He laid it off to the side.  She glanced at the robe and then up to Gale, who was ladling stew into bowls and passing them around. He caught her eyes and gave her a faint, intentional smirk meant just for her before turning his attention back to the stew.

That’s when Dani knew, with a rush of realization that struck her a bit like lightning and left her sitting, silent and dazed and a little offended and a little impressed.

She’d been as obvious as day, and now he was teasing her about it. And that smirk? He was being a bit of an arrogant bastard…but gods, he was suddenly all the sexier for it.

She was doomed.

[kayann9]

The Darkest Night

Thank you again to everyone :) This is pure fluff. I always believed that Gale and Tav definitely know they have some feelings for each other before the 'Big Confession' and this is one of those moments. I have a sort of second part to this too.

Set just before Shadow Curse Lands.

Pairing: Gale X F! Tav (Serena)

Words: 1047

Rating: T (a lot of fluff)

The shadows around them seemed to grow heavier than anyone would have thought possible and they hadn’t even arrived there yet. Serena hated the dark. She’d never told anyone that. Her tent was always adorned with a flickering light, just enough to offer her some warmth against the unforgiving gloom. She had long since accepted that darkness was part of her life, part of what she needed, but each time the sun set and the midnight darkness shrouded her like the embrace of Shar, she could not help but feel lost and afraid.

She hid it well.

Always walking straight; always talking; always stepping ahead of the others, but each time a wayward patch of night caught her eye, a shiver erupted up her spine and the helplessness she’d known as a youngster flooded back into thoughts.

The Shadowcursed Lands loomed ahead, and this pervasive sense of dread loomed right along with it.

When they set up camp, it took all of her effort not to listen to her limbs urging her back up towards the Mountain Pass and the glowing vista they were leaving behind. No more lush greenery and bright flowers; no more sunsets and sunrises with the multi-faceted colours of a glowing sky. Serena had never wanted to go to a place less than the next step of their journey.

She rubbed her hands over her face before wandering over to her favourite companion’s tent hoping for some kind of distraction from her impending worry.

“What’re you doing?”

Gale smiled at her. He knew that tone well. The same tone she’d used before they’d traversed the Underdark. Her sing-song curiosity of the things he did made his soul smile.

“Perhaps you should come and find out.” He laughed and made room for her on his bedroll. She’d been in here a few times; enough times for him to make sure it was always kept orderly just in case she visited. Over the last couple of months, he’d tried convincing himself that he was making a fool of himself, but now he was facing down eternity, he could not bring himself to care as much. Instead, he soaked up her attention like the roots of a starving flower desperate to soak up moisture from the rain. 

One evening, not long after the fated visit from Elminster, she’d fallen asleep in there as they’d sat and read together. Ever since, he’d spent nights hoping it would happen again.

As she seemingly liked doing, she perched next to him, her chin resting on his shoulder and her eyes looking at the book he held. The kind of physical touch that was typical of lovers. The kind he’d not had in so long. It was difficult not to indulge in and now that he’d made peace with his destructive condition, it seemed silly not to indulge in it for who knew how long he would have left to enjoy it.

Selfish, maybe? Needed, certainly.

Gale had long since concluded that whatever her story was, she needed it as much as he did.

“This is like another language.” He could hear the squint on her face.

“Because it is another language. I found it in the temple. It is Githyanki. I think I have worked out a few of the key terms such as Queen but I am still trying to work out the narrative.”

“Why not just ask Lae’zel?”

Gale turned, his face only an inch from hers as she looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Well, if I were to simply ask Lae’zel, then she would be able to translate this simple passage for me, but I would not have learnt how to translate the myriads of passages encapsulated in those crypts. Imagine the knowledge trapped in these texts. If I can work out the terminology in this one, then I can do it for the others. Of course, the plan is Lae’zel can check that I am correct while we have her here.”

Serena scrunched up her nose and chuckled. “I like watching you learn. Can I stay whilst you uncover the great mysteries of the Githyanki?”

“Of course, you can. You needn’t ever ask permission sit with me.”

Serena did not need a second invitation, especially with the gravity of what hid on the horizon for them. Instead, made herself comfortable leaning against him taking in his warmth like he was the sunshine she was leaving behind.

How she loved watching him as he read and studied; he was so far removed from the people she usually encountered that she had been almost captivated with him from their first meeting. His stories and how he told them with his whole body, his graceful manners misaligned with occasional clumsiness, his over-confidence and uncertainty co-existing oddly together; all of it made her feel lighter. Dare she say, happy? He was her own little slice of daylight amongst an oncoming storm.

“Thunder or perhaps clouds?” The low hum of his voice broke through her daydream.

His brow creased as he grabbed the quill and scribbled on a stray piece of parchment.

She closed her eyes at the scratching on the paper and curled up next to him, tucking her feet underneath her. She stifled a yawn as she leaned into the softness of his side, breathing in the scent of the autumncrocus he’d spent the day collecting. His shirt was soft and without a second thought, she wrapped an arm around his middle before letting her drowsiness claim her.

Gale stilled at the movement but after one look at her peaceful face, the face he’d decided he definitely loved, he relaxed and let his arm drape around her in the same way, his fingers stroking her hair.

“You are more captivating than any language that could ever be spoken.” He whispered into the air, part of him hoping she was asleep but an ever-growing part of him wishing she had heard. “Whatever is causing you the worry you feel, I will make sure I do my best to shield you from it.” He pressed his lips gently to the top of her head.

Carefully, he put the text down, trying his best not to wake her and instead decided to study the subject he was most fascinated by: Serena Tavarnos.

[kayann9]

The Magic of Wine

Thank you all again! I am on play through 2 of BG3 and still can't stop myself romancing the wizard! Send help!

A little one shot from the Tiefling Party: definitely some innuendo in this one. Just a little flirtation and frolicking!

Pairing: Gale X F Tav (Serena)

Words: 718

Rating: M for mature

Thank you all in advance if you do read anything I write :)

By the Gods he’d had too much wine.

Over a year since Gale had attended anything resembling a party and he’d managed to embarrass himself by indulging far too much in the cheap alcohol and comparing the woman he could not help but feel an inherent attraction to, to a tressym. A tressym that he cared deeply for but how was she ever fully meant to grasp that concept.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

When had he become so useless?

Had he not been the lover of a goddess?

And now, now he was perplexed by a mortal? It had not even occurred to him on this most bizarre of journeys that he would be even remotely interested in anyone, yet here he was, watching her as she danced around the group, whilst everyone vied for her attention.

Serena had worn her hair down tonight; something he hadn’t seen yet. It had oddly caught him off guard having only seen her in the damaged armour she’d grabbed from the Nautiloid and being seemingly perpetually covered in blood. Of course, he’d seen she was beautiful from his first glance, he was nothing if not appreciative of finer things in life, but now she looked truly resplendent. Her glowing smile and the tiniest of flirtations she’d thrown his way, had left his already slightly broken knees even weaker.

He sipped more wine against his better judgement.

Serena seemed to be in deep conversation with the First Druid. Another admirer, he’d concluded.

He’d supposed, after hearing listening to the flirtations of the others, that she was quite the woman; naturally charismatic, fierce and unyielding but, most importantly in his eyes, kind. She’d jumped in to help this place without a second thought. She’d jumped in the fight with the goblins with no questions. She’d saved the tiefling child with not a murmur or need to recompense. She’d stood in front of a cross bow, arms folded and gaze unwavering, as if staring down death itself. Goodness was something he hadn’t been too privy to in Faerûn.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to dance?” Serena’s light tone swam through his mind and he had to shake his head to regain some sense. “I always imagined a learned wizard would be quite practised in a dance.”

The wine drifted through him logic once again. “I am practised in many things, but dancing is not one of them.”

She lifted an eyebrow, the look he’d worked out meant trouble for him. “Oh, do tell.”

His mouth dried but his conviction forced him to ignore it, along with the smirk on her lips. “As you are probably aware, a scholar of my nature, research is my main focus; there is nothing I enjoy more than curling up with a book in the study of a new topic.”

“So, attentive.”

“Most definitely. And let’s not forget, a wizard’s hands are his most valuable asset. Deliberate ministrations are most important in the accurate casting of spells, particularly at the level I was operating at.”

“Good with your hands.” Serena nodded. “Check.”

Confusion flooded him for the briefest of moments, until he watched her teeth drag across her lips.

“I imagine, wizards are also fairly proficient with their mouths. It would do no good to have a slovenly incantations along with those deliberate ministrations.” Serena sipped her wine, grinning as he moved from foot to foot.

“I, well, yes. I have been known to be talented in the art of verbosity.” Gale straightened his spine, regaining the shred of composure he had left, ignoring the swirling in chest. “I had no idea you had taken such an interest in the ways of The Weave.”

“Yes, The Weave, that’s what I am interested in.” She winked and laughed. “I shall leave you to your wine and your verbosity mighty Wizard.. However, if you do find yourself taking an interest in dancing, please consider me as tutor.” She curtseyed before twirling away towards the music.

“I would consider nobody else.” He called after her, trying to convince himself that the secret smile she threw him as she moseyed away was nothing more than a figment of a highly over-active imagination.

The dangerous flutter of the dark magic beneath his skin, told a very different story.

[kayann9]

To the basement

Well, thank you so much! I can't believe the love the last story got. I really appreciate anyone who took the time to read or re-blog or like or comment!

This is a tiny fic based inspired by all the moments we don't see before the confession.

Pairing: Gale x f! Tav (Serena)

Setting: Arcane Tower; Underdark

Words: 740

Rating: T (just fluff)

For everything he’d heard of the Underdark, he’d not expected to find it beautiful. Glowing fungi littering the rocky crevices gave the place a haunting glow, almost an air of romance to it, if you ignored the odd creatures that had grown used to the perpetual darkness. The Arcane Tower they’d discovered to the West of the entrance had been a personal favourite of Gale’s and he couldn’t help but be a little bit grateful they’d decided to set up camp inside its walls, under the watchful gaze of an automaton.

He pored over the books on the second floor, mesmerised by the archaic words on yellowed pages.

“It’s so sad.” Serena’s voice, barely a whisper, caught his attention despite it’s obvious intentions not to.

He could not help but tear his eyes away to see what had caused the response. She was cross-legged, on the floor, hair messy and covered in the same dust she usually was, staring at a crumpled note in her hand. The glow of the blue lights from the tower gave her skin a cool hue but even from the distance he was sat, he could see the glassy sheen on her eyes, her fingers covering her mouth.

Curiosity got the better of him the way it always did, and before his brain could stop him, he strode over and sat beside her.

It was a habit he’d grown into; always sitting or walking next to her. He’d managed to be subtle – or so he’d thought. Always something to look at close to her or a quiet discussion away from prying ears. This time, the letter that had enraptured her, was his reason.

“What is it?”

“Read.” He smiled inside as she settled next to him, her shoulder nestled into chest. “That grave we found. She sounded so lonely. The play makes sense now.”

Gale couldn’t help but fell a knife of ice in his heart. It was sad. This tower, decaying and decrepit, filled with wondrous information was also filled with the same cold isolation his own had become. A tomb of wisdom separated from the outside world; filled with the written word and nobody to share it with. His body stiffened. In a hundred years, someone may be sat on the floor of his Waterdeep Tower, reading the same books, learning of him from his sad musings and lost poetry, shedding a tear about how desperately isolated he was and how his tale was a warning only to end with tragedy.

“I wonder what became of her. I wonder why she chose not to join the society?” Serena wasn’t talking to him, not really. “Maybe she made it to Baldur’s Gate. Perhaps she met up with her friend.” He could tell the lack of conviction even in her hopeful words; she knew what had happened to her. The likelihood was that Lenore of the Underdark Tower had died here how she lived; alone.

“Yes. Perhaps she did.” Even he wanted to believe it; they’d discovered enough misery down here without the added melancholy of this story. “Perhaps we will see when we get there. I think leaving the automaton was a good idea in the end. A fitting guardian to someone who was clearly an accomplished wizard.” 

Serena raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. “I thought you said it was self-indulgent”

He coughed. He had said that, hadn’t he?

“Well, I suppose, when one looks at the larger picture, it is quite the feat to create an army on androids powered by arcane magic to protect your secrets in your absence. I, maybe, overlooked the technical skill involved in -”

“If you back-peddle anymore, we’ll end up back on the Nautiloid.” She chuckled and put the letter on the floor. Her head tilted ever so slightly and rested on his shoulder. It was almost as seamless as breathing and were it an isolated incident, he could maybe have over-looked it as her being exhausted. “Want to go look in the basement?”

Gale smiled. Of course, he did. He’d have walked into an active volcano were she inviting him.

“Sounds like a most wonderful plan my lady.”

“You’re such a charmer.” The usual playful tap followed the comment. She stood, offered her hand to help him up and with a skip, pulled him in the direction of the elevator that would take them into the depths of the broken but storied building.

[kayann9]

Hope is a dangerous game

Thank you so much to anyone who read the last one shot! I really appreciate anyone who took the time to read, like or re-blog!

This is mainly from Gale's P.O.V just before Shadow-cursed Lands and his confession. Nothing explicit; just fluff. Tav (f -Serena) X Gale. 1057 words and I do not own anything other than Serena :)

Gods she was beautiful.

Gale’s brain let the thought roam free, the urge he’d had to reign it in when the dark magic coursing through his veins heaved had vanished. He watched her train with abandon and revelled in the fact he could glance in her direction without the guilt and concern that doing so would end their lives.

He had noted that beauty when she’d dragged him out of the portal.

The type of grace that elves possessed was a magic unto itself, but she was spectacular. The others had made the same eyes at her that he had; his incessant babbling about his life in Waterdeep and tales of misbegotten adventures as a youth had been his weapons in the war for her attention.

“Your flank. It’s always the flank!” Karlach’s voice boomed as it broke his silent reverie. “You know, I will always watch your back Ren but sooner or later you’re going to feel the point of a sword there.”

“I’m left-handed! It’s hard.”

Serena was left-handed. Of course, she was. Gale had spent his time studying her since he’d decided he’d have to keep away from her, since the night of magic happened, and he’d seen that thought whirring in her brain. He’d worked out that she liked the outdoors, that she enjoyed the sound of water, she was better at cards than she told anyone – often faking poor hands and bluffs - and that when she was happy, genuinely so, she smiled with her whole face. This was one of those times and far from the usually clench of agony in his chest, it was just his heartbeat throbbing away at the sight of the brightness in her eyes.

It was a different kind of feeling.

There was no anxiety around her. There were no knots in his stomach when he looked at her; just the feeling of warmth. The feeling of not wanting to wait until she spoke to him or looked at him again. He didn’t question that she was fond of him, whilst their relationship had not been spoken out loud, their glances and touches were the most intimate he’d ever felt.

He was falling in love with her.

He was in love with her.

And wasn’t that the cruellest joke of them all.

His Mother would have been thrilled if he’d spoken to her and told her of Serena; intelligent, brave, beautiful, good. She’d been no fan of his special relationship with Mystra; no fan of his designs of wanting more than mortality. This, this she would have been ecstatic about.

And he wouldn’t ever be able to tell her.

Because it wouldn’t be anything more than a blip in time; maybe a moment before his destruction. His Mother would never know about how he’d met someone who made his heart sing; who laughed at his stories, genuinely and with heart; who made fun out of him with a soft glance.

He supposed the real question was would he even be able to tell Serena?

Would it be fair?

One part of him screamed to do it; to take her away to a secluded spot, show her the heavens and then some, tell her how if it were the real world and if he were at home, in his cluttered tower, he would’ve taken all the time in the world to do this right. He’d have taken her out, showed her any realm she wished to see, taken her to any place she had wished to visit.

Then there was the other part. The part that couldn’t forget the orb despite its silence. The part that reminded him how selfish that would be when he knew what the outcome was: oblivion.

And that was if she was even receptive to the whole idea. It hadn’t been lost on him that they were from different worlds; hers filled with blood and steel, his filled with mysticism and power. It was possible he’d read the whole thing wrong. That her glances were that of sympathy and pity not wanting and compassion.

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

It was all so complex.

It was all so human.

“You look a million miles away.” He startled as she sat beside him. “I’m tired of my flank being told off so I am having a break.”

Sweat beaded along her brow, her skin flushed with the heat. She glowed. “Just lost in thought. Your flank looked good to me.” As the words left his mouth, his brain caught up.

“I am very glad to have you watching my flank.” Her shoulder knocked into his, that familiar teasing tone had been slowly creeping back since Elminster’s visit. “Maybe you should go and spar with her, I can watch your flank too.”

He didn’t flush, for that he was grateful.

“I’m not sure sword fighting is my forte. A wise man knows him limitations and using an executioner’s axe is most definitely mine, especially if you want me to keep my hands. Very difficult to cast the array of spells at my arsenal without them.”

“I am almost positive they have much better uses than simply casting spells.”

Gale’s heart stuttered. This was definitely a flirtation. It was one of her more obvious ones. While he had tormented himself about all the outcomes, the more impulsive part of him couldn’t help but lean into her: messy hair sitting on her damp skin, rosy glow of her face in the evening light.

“Oh, really?”

Serena was so fast that he barely had chance to register, entwining her fingers in his. “Oh, most definitely.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and he couldn’t help but glance around the wide space, checking to make sure he had not actually succumbed to death, and this was some sordid fantasy he’d spent weeks pushing away.

Her breath tickled his cheek, her lips close to his ear.

“You… are also an excellent cook.” The giggle brought him back to reality and before he could register his disappointment, she planted the lightest kiss on his cheek before dancing away.

His skin tingled with the faintest ghost of her lips.

His soul tingled with faintest glimmer of hope.

For the first time, in what felt like an eternity, the tiniest gleam of a new voice in his head whispered: maybe she will find another way.

[kayann9]

Wow.

I hope you look for me, 

In star stained skies, In stretched thin stories, In the kindness of others. 

In warming blushes, And familiar touches.

Long after tears sting the wound in your chest, Long after the waves of grief reach their crest.

I hope you find me. I hope I bring you the comfort to rest.

I hope you are loved threadbare, I hope you love with indelicate care. 

And still, I hope you look for me. 

I’ll be there.

[kayann9]

How to turn the tide.

I'm not even sure if I remember how to post? I literally have written nothing for 4 years and so I don't think it's great. I just thought, why not? Some bad language so rated M for safety; 893 words.

Takes place after the Elminster visit and is a little moment between my Tav (Serena) and Karlach; she is not dealing with the news very well. Gale doesn't feature but it is Gale X Tav (f).

I do not own BG3 or Gale of Waterdeep - even if I wish I did.

Serena flung the axe at wood, growling as it landed to the left of her target.

It was the tenth throw. The tree wasn’t going to last much longer whether she hit the mark or not.

“Fucking Gods.” She hissed, pulling the metal from the tree.

As Gale’s brown eyes filled with resignation and acceptance flooded her mind, he released the golden hatchet again and let it splinter the dry wood.

She was exhausted. She was so very exhausted: her muscles ached, her throat was sore but mainly, and most sadly, her mind was tired. The frustration of living in a World ruled by Gods and Monsters, of the good suffering at the hands of the powerful, was eating at her. This evening had been the final straw.

Serena sunk into the grass and pulled her knees to her chest.

She couldn’t do this – whatever this had turned into. What had started as a minor expedition to get back home and get a tiny invader out of her brain, had turned into a divine mission from a variety of notable sources, one that she kept being told had to take precedent above all else.

This was the life she’d left behind – the selfless life of righting wrongs – that had now crept back up onto her.

“Godsdammit.” Her dagger slammed into the dirt as if she were trying to pierce the soul of the ground itself.

Serena heard Karlach before she saw her; she heard the heavy boots and the gentle grunt of the metal in her chest. Another victim of the machine.

“How you holding up soldier?”

Serena let out a humourless laugh. “Collecting firewood. I’m fine.” Somewhere along the line she’d become a terrible liar, she couldn’t even convince herself anymore. She played with a dried splinter between her fingers before holding it up.

“I’m not sure that will keep a fire going for very long. I mean, that tree has taken quite the pummelling. It’s almost as if you’re pretending it is a certain Goddess’…”

Serena stood up gathering another blade in her hand, letting it fly through the air with a whistle.

“That tree is a lot of things to me right now….. Mainly firewood.” Serena braced her shoulders trying to release the knot of tension that sat between the bones given to her from the dirt floor and the stress of the day. When she heard Karlach’s sigh, she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Fine. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of these supposedly all powerful beings waltzing through our lives like unprompted lightning bolts, ignoring the destruction they cause, expecting our utter devotion just because they deem us somewhat noticeable.”

The Rosymorn Trail had been somewhat breath taking to Serena on her arrival through the Mountain Pass, a part of Faerûn that she had not seen before. No longer was she impressed with the vast and dramatic scenery; the vivid sunset bathing the valley in fire, all awe and wonder had been sapped from her body the moment she’d heard the words: use yourself as the catalyst that will burn it from this world.

“Sorry, I’m ranting.” Serena leaned against a tree and forced her gaze to the vast expanse of mountains.

Karlach’s intimidating size and stature hid a softer nature. The kind of nature that had made her follow her friend when she was trying her best to hide all the upset she clearly felt. She’d known she’d had to follow the moment Serena had declared she was going to find some food despite their camp being full of wine, cheese and meat and then found her stabbing a half- dead oak tree as if it were stray ghast.

“You’re not ranting…. Well, maybe ranting a little. But I get it. You’re upset. It was a shit thing to hear and it’s even shittier that he’s actually contemplating it.”

And there it was. The reason this had gotten to her so much. It hadn’t been that Mystra had dared to make such an obscene suggestion. Gods and their ilk were known, at least in her world, for making such grand demands of their devotees. By the Hells, it might not have even been the worst ‘sacrifice’ she’d even heard of on her travels. The thing that truly tore at her heart was the fact he’d accepted it. He’d said with such sad certainty there wasn’t another way.  

Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she soon forced them away. Even in front of Karlach.

“It’s just not fair.” She was aware she sounded like a child who’d not been allowed out to play after dinner but there was no other phrase that she could pick. It wasn’t. It wasn’t fair that his punishment was to willingly end his life. It wasn’t fair that he felt it was apt. It wasn’t fair that she now cared enough about Gale for it to hurt when he’d accepted it.

With another surge of anger, she threw the great axe at the tree again.

This time it splintered.

It creaked and groaned under the ferocity of the blade.

“There. Firewood.” She shrugged and grabbed the larger splints.

“Be a moon unto yourself, mate.” Karlach smiled as she grabbed the rest of the wood and hoped the elder wizard's more enigmatic words would bring her friend at least some comfort.

[kayann9]

[kayann9]

Promises, Promises

It has been a while...... I have to say that new OH chapter may have gotten rid of the massive writer’s block I was having. I feel I need to get it out of my head before sleep because that chapter left me reeling! 

Just a little angst fic about MC’s time in the room alone. I’ve never done an Ethan Ramsey fic before so bear with me. It is a bit of a sad one so just be warned, it does talk about death. Everything belongs to Pixelberry. Thanks to everyone in advance who reads, comments or likes :) 

Pairing: MC (F) X Ethan Ramsey

Rating: T

Words: 1238

A sunrise.

A beach.

A full moon or a snowflake on the end of my nose.

Ethan.

Just an ever-growing list of things I may not see or touch again.

It’s a sobering experience, knowing you’re going to die – imminently. Your mind races through the things you should have said and done at warp speed. In the quiet moments where the dizziness subsides, when the only sound is the beeping of Raf’s heart monitor, it creeps back to me like a vine of regret wrapping around whatever time I have left.

The moments I didn’t take; the times I didn’t say what I should have and the times I said nothing at all.

I lay on the bed as another wave of nausea ripples through me, my eyes closing under the weight of the spinning room and just let my mind drift away for a moment. I go home for a bit, back to my yard with the porch swing where me and my dad would have a morning coffee in absolute silence. He’d read a newspaper and I’d just look out onto the dry grass, watching the birds in the trees at the bottom on the land. I’d do that every morning, even before I was allowed coffee and I’d sit with orange juice and just enjoy some quiet before school and then before college.

I didn’t tell my Dad I loved him enough.

I didn’t tell him that those mornings on the porch swing were my favourite part of my day, even now I didn’t do them anymore.

I open an eye and look for some paper, a pen or anything that maybe I can write it down on, just so he knows, but there’s nothing.

Not surprising as everything in the room is sanitised and minimal: two beds and equipment is all that’s left, everything else is hidden under plastic tarp that makes the world outside look blurry. I couldn’t even be sure my arms would  move well enough to write anything down.

Regret is quite torturous when you go through this kind of slow walk to death.

My last conversation with Ethan before this furrows its way into my mind – how we’d almost kissed behind the scenes of a talk show, but we hadn’t. How everything had remained in purgatory and though I’d wanted to say something, I hadn’t. I’d wanted to tell him how being around him had changed me, made me better despite our disagreements. Once compliant and desperate to please, he’d unearthed a little bit of rebellion that made me a better doctor and person. I wanted so badly to tell him, show him, that the little things he does - asking my opinion on cases, trusting me with his feelings and privacy – they all mean everything to me. They’ve made me realise that loving someone isn’t about just the passion and the thrill, it’s about someone squeezing your hand when your worried or sad or showing up for them when they need you the most, just so they know you’re there.

We’d have been happy.

I don’t doubt it.

Once we worked out whatever we had to, I knew it was him I’d have been with. We’d have had the world, if we’d had the time.

Picturing Ethan’s face makes a sob stick in my throat. What happens to him if I die?

I know the answer to that. He blames himself. Like he did with Banerji. He spends his time repenting for not overcoming the impossible odds thrown in his path, he drowns in the failure because even though he doesn’t say things very much, I know he cares for me. He shows it every day. It will hurt him. I won’t be here to pick those pieces up and it makes my stomach twist thinking about how he’ll shove everyone away from him, and how most of them will oblige because they don’t know better.  

That can’t happen.

I can’t let that happen.

He’s too good for that to happen.

The worry suddenly feels worse than the pain and my eyes refuse to stay closed. The world is still dizzy, and my brain is foggy, and the beeping brings me back to focus. Back to my prison cell.

Rafael is still asleep when I get to his bedside. My lovely friend who has a girlfriend and an adventure waiting for him: black circles encase his eyes and his skin is toneless, dull almost like he’s a bad photocopy of himself. I squeeze his hand and get nothing back, just clammy skin and cold fingers.

“I’m so sorry you were here.”

His breathing is shallow and gravelly.

“You should be away in the sunshine now. Looking for yourself and doing lots of awesome things, not this.” I want there to be a response from him so badly. “Don’t die. Please.”

I’m not sure what else to say. I’m not sure he can hear me.

“You should be resting.” I hadn’t heard the Ethan come in; his eyes nearly as exhausted as mine behind the pane of Perspex.

He’s right. I should be. Somehow though, laying down scares me more than standing. As if being on the bed is somehow preparing my body to never move from it again and even though my legs do ache and my body is heavy, at least I feel something. Every minute in here makes the prospect of closing my eyes even more terrifying.

Ethan walks me to the bed, and we sit on the edge together, his gloved hand wraps mine up slowly getting tighter until he eventually gives up and pulls me to his chest.

“It’s going to be alright.”

“I know.” I say but it’s more for him than me. “It’ll all be fine.”

He feels broader under the suit than I remember and that scares me too. It’s not been that long since I last touched him and I’d already missed things, forgotten things. I squeeze him as hard as my arms allow and try and commit things to my memory quickly even through a thick layer of plastic.

“We’re going on a vacation when this is done.”

The idea thrills me a little until the bloody beeping shatters the fantasy, reality bleeds in and I know that won’t happen.

“I think a lodge or something. I don’t want to be near any people other than you, maybe the odd bear. We can go fishing and I’ll let you win at scrabble.”

“I’d probably win anyway.” It hurts my face to smile, my teeth ache but I can’t help myself.

“The beauty of me saying that is now you’ll never know.” Even behind the mask, he lets out his sometimes smile that only I get to see; the same one from opera when we held hands and the one from the first night I’d spent in his apartment. This one doesn’t last as long because it’s obvious, reality sets in for him too. “You’re going to be okay Maddie. I promise.”

I want to tell him not to make those promises. Those promises will just hurt him later. I’m a coward though and right now, I can’t say that to him. And so, I just settle for resting my head on his chest.

“You’ll be okay too.” I whisper into the air and hope to whoever is listening that they make sure that, at least, that’s true.

[kayann9]

How I felt playing Open Heart today. Oh my life!

[kayann9]

online friends

“my friend the electrical engineer,” i say, or of someone else: “my friend the Canadian,” “my friend in Denver.” and i am down south, states and miles away.

“how did you meet?” they ask, puzzled by how far-flung my friendships. “the internet,” i say, a little proud, a little defensive because the next words are inevitable.

they always ask with a mix of amusement and horror. always. “have you met in person? no? how can you be sure it’s not an old pervert in his mother’s basement, a serial killer on the prowl?”

how can we be sure of anyone? the man who married a pastor’s daughter, then shot his pregnant wife in the back of the head–they thought they knew him. but these anonymous souls: they’re my friends.

we talk of books and ideas, family and differences in where we live and why we do what we do, and trade stupid jokes like candy, sweet and inclusive and joyful. my friends. my soul friends, who i meet on the internet.

friendships are not born of handshakes. they’re born of shared things and shared interests and sometimes just because you’re human and i’m human, and that praise God is enough. even over the internet, that is enough.

[kayann9]

Amazing fic by the lovely @chaotichuman0090! Love a good Kayden Vescovi read, look no further 😊

“His safest place” | Kayden Vescovi x Josephine Everhart

A/n: YESSS it’s finally here!!!! My first fic! 🥳🥳 Well it was done a while ago (after a lot of planning), but I’m posting it now because I finally have some spare time and space lmao.😅

That being said, I didn’t expect it to be so long (no pun intended). I should’ve probably split it in two parts but eh…

It’s been a nice experience. Might do it again sometimes. I’d also prescribe a dose of Kayden to everyone here. I mean, just take a look at him…. *whew* 🥵

Oh, by the way, tell me if you catch any mistakes or weird typos, please. (english is my second language so I might get things wrong sometime).

This is set a few months after the end of the book.

Pairing: Kayden Vescovi - MC (Josephine Everhart) | The Royal Masquerade |

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Vonberry is the name I gave to my dear bear cub, bless him! 🧡

Words: 3370

Warnings: N*FW content (basically the whole second part, no pressure; almost smut at the end of the first part too. Almost because… I just thought it would be too much for a first attempt)

Tagging: @walkerswhiskeygirl @masquerade-reimagined @kayann9

P.s. Thank you guys for your support!! I appreciate it and it helped a lot! Sorry to keep you waiting though..

I can’t wait to hear what you think of this. Big hugs!

If you’d like to be tagged in future let me know!

Okay. Enjoy!!!

Keep reading

[kayann9]

The Watcher Kayden M! X FMC

So it has been a while and whilst this is definitely not my best, I thought I would post it so I am getting back on the horse. It is only short and a bit of fluff. Hope you enjoy and hope everyone is safe and well. I kept the tags from my other fics but if you would like to be taken off, please let me know and I will :) Or if you would like to be added, I can do that too! 

Rating: T

Words: 802

Pairing: M Kayden (Trystan) X F Mc (Eva)

I could not be sure how long I stood there, watching him, just out of view from behind the willow tree that swept beyond the river. He is quite the marvel, even still with injury, when he is doing the very thing he lives to do.

Even with obviously hurt ribs from the joust, Trystan Vescovi is still able to swing the sword as if it were an extension of his arm, with such deadly accuracy that it both steals my breath and makes my heart thunder. Occasionally, from my extensive studies, his right foot gives way and the tiniest of grimaces begins to shadow his face, but it’s so smoothly recovered every single time that most would never even notice. To those who do, it would hardly register as nothing more than a clumsy step.

I crouch into the dewy grass, a smile on my face as the metal of his sword clashes with another. Like a dashing hero from the hundreds of books my Sister loaned to me, he stands tall and proud and with the kind of deadly grace a wild animal would possess.

And my Lord does it make my spine tingle.

“You are leaving far too much space across your mid-section.” He swipes the blade into the space of the young man’s gut, resting the tip gently on the armour. “An enemy will take advantage of that.”

And that is how his morning goes until he has sparred with each of the men, offering his worldly advice about how to stay alive in a job as dangerous as theirs.

By the time lunch rolls around, the sun is high in the sky and it is obvious he is aching, and the beginnings of exhaustion are seeping into him. It is then he sees me, whilst he is leaning on the fence and he gives me no more than a bow of the head.

Do I go over? Does he think me strange for sitting here and watching?

He most likely does.

The issue I have found with Trystan Vescovi is how difficult his features are to read: apart from the infrequent smiles that grace his lips when he forgets his place, he is a vast plain of unreadability. His words, often laced with neutral tones and littered with rhetorical questions, do not satisfy my desire to find out what is in his head in the slightest. The small nods and fleeting touches are easily explainable; nothing more than politeness and duty. Yet, there is most definitely something beyond that; a secret he is keeping from me and the more he guards it, the more I need to know.

Unless there is no secret and you are simply a silly girl with a rather large crush.

My chest deflates with a sigh. It is possible.

“You look most lost in thought,” I jump from my space on the grass. Heart racing. Face heating.

I did not even see him leave the fence. I suppose that is why he is what he is.

“I certainly was. I almost required a map to find my way out.”

Trystan manages a smile before leaning against the tree. His lips pull back in a snarl as his shoulder touches the bark.

It is most certainly causing him issues.

Before I know what I am doing, my hand touches the area I bandaged the day before and much to my surprise I don’t stop myself. I don’t even hesitate as my hand rests on the muscle there. I almost expect him to flinch, to shrug me away completely but, instead, he rests his hand on top of my mine. It’s calloused and rough and so much larger than my own.

“It still hurts.” He says quietly.

“It was only yesterday. Time heals all wounds.”

For such a big person who clearly has such a vicious streak, he gives my hand the gentlest of squeezes as it falls from him. “I think we may have to agree to disagree on that one Eva.”

I know my face lights up. The grin is so fast and wide that my cheeks spasm. “You called me Eva.”

For the first time I think I have heard, Trystan laughs. It’s so deep and loud that I even feel it in my chest. It’s only topped by the moment he leans in close to my face; leather armour and woodlands bombarding me with a heady scent. I am certain he might kiss me. Positive. As his breath tickles my ear, he laughs quietly again. “I believe that is your name.”

Bloody Shield.

With that, a wink, and a more playful spirit than I am accustomed to, he kicks from the tree and jogs back towards the tents.

“Silly girl with a crush.” I got my answer it would seem.

Tags: @parkerattano​ @gettingonmykneesfordamiennazario​ @mightyfangirlofthefandoms​ @chaotichuman0090​ @krishu213​ @adrianadmirer​

@referencees​ @just-another-lonely–soul​ @rexgwapolagi @walkerswhiskeygirl​

@addictedtodrakefanfic

[kayann9]

Walking into Friday evening knowing it’s the royal masquerade finale....

@walkerswhiskeygirl @chaotichuman0090

[kayann9]

Somewhere.... Kayden(M) X MC

So I have been gone a while.... I lost my mojo for writing so this is me getting into the swing. A little bit of angst to get us started. Everything belongs to Pixelberry. 

Words: 669

Pairing: Kayden (M) X MC with angsty romance

Rating: T 

Magic.

Of course, now I am staring at the wall, it all seems so ridiculously obvious. How I travelled through these last few weeks thinking there was some kind of oddness about me, perhaps my past, when all along it had been him.

Protecting me.

I slide down the wall of the room in the Conclave, secretly relieved at the emptiness.

It doesn’t matter if I cry here now because nobody will see; all too busy thinking of ways they can hurt Kayden for information; ostracise him further for his abilities. My stomach heaves.

Kill him, they had all shouted.

What if they do?

No. I cannot afford to think that. I cannot afford to think that come sunrise in three days they will have him in the gallows, a noose around his neck, jeering him from the surrounding hills. Kayden Vescovi cannot die.

“God, what am I going to do.” There is nobody here. Nobody on my side now. Everyone busy with their next scheme or their next plot whilst he sits in his damp cell, no food or water, being fearless.

No. That isn’t right. Not fearless. Pretending to be fearless.

Because if there had been one thing I had learned this evening, it was this: at the moment he thought I had turned, real fear swept onto his face. Real horror.

Oh god. Did he know? Did he know that I had to do it and why and that I am going to spend every effort to get him out? Did he guess? Or did he just resign himself to my betrayal?

Sickness weaves its way through my guts like a sick snake slithering through muddy swamp groves; thick, dark despair leaking into my being: a dying star being swallowed by a black hole. Even though I have to move, my limbs fill with stones weighting me to the floor, the only thing playing in my head over and over: his dark eyes down-turned, mouth pulled back into a gape whilst he just gasps, Eva.

That sound rings in my ears.

The floor is cold and hard and is the only thing I can feel beyond the numbness; a clock ticking in the background the only real sound in the room.

“No. No, no, no,” I don’t know how many times I say that word; I’m not sure what it means anymore by the time I stop. Just a little squeak in the air and a random sequence of noise.

For a moment, my eyes close.

“Ten… nine…eight…”

Breathing in. Breathing out.

Think of the sunshine; the heat on my skin and waves of the ocean lapping at the sand.

“Seven…”

Kayden sitting beside me in his ridiculous uniform; black and leather. I tease him. He laughs.

“Six….. Five……”

He says something about me being cruel to him, about his uniform. But he smiles and it’s precious because only I see it. He’s leaning back on his arms, relaxed, eyes focused on the horizon and the nothingness there.

I breathe in slowly again, my fingers tingling with some feeling now.

“Four….. Three… Two…”

We should take a boat; he says to me.

The room around me comes back into focus; Kayden’s voice drifting in my head like the deep, sweet sound of a crackling fire. My throat dry and sore, free of the solid lump that had been there, lets out a harsh cough.

With shaking legs and an aching chest, I stand up, leaning by the wall; with a deep breath in, filling my lungs so full of air that they feel as though they could burst, I shake my shoulders expelling all the hopelessness from my body in the only way I could. When I feel that wave of anguish creep back into my mind, I think of him. I think of needing me now more than he ever has and I make one solemn promise to the both of us, whatever happens:

We are taking that boat. 

Somewhere. 

Just the two of us.

Tags: @parkerattano​ @gettingonmykneesfordamiennazario​ @mightyfangirlofthefandoms​ @chaotichuman0090​ @krishu213​ @adrianadmirer​

@referencees​ @just-another-lonely–soul​ @rexgwapolagi @walkerswhiskeygirl​

@addictedtodrakefanfic