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[stayxstraykidss]

reblog if your name isn't Amanda.

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[stayxstraykidss]

Rolan x Reader

↬ Warnings: afab!reader, oral and fingering (f!receiving), cumming untouched (Rolan), sub!Rolan. MDNI!

The noises filling the room are positively obscene. A cacophony of curses and moans fill the air, both from you and from the Master of Ramazith’s Tower – whose face is currently buried between your thighs, lying comfortably atop the lush comforter of his bed, one hand holding one of your thighs to keep it spread open, the other fucking you with two skillful fingers as his tongue lavishes attention on your clit.

Although your relationship with Rolan wasn’t new, the sexual escapades of the relationship were, so the two of you were still discovering turn-ons and kinks of one another’s. But gods, was he a quick learner. This was the first time he’d ravished you with his mouth, and it only took one or two pointers for him to have your entire body glistening with sweat, practically screaming as he brought you to climax for a second time.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had the sense to be pleasantly surprised at how much Rolan seemed to be enjoying himself. Every groan and moan that fell from his lips caused your body to twitch and jerk from the vibrations of it against your clit, and the few times you glanced down at him, he seemed to be grinding his hips into the mattress. The fact that he was getting off on eating you out was enough to send you hurtling toward the edge of your second climax, one hand grabbing a fistful of his hair in a firm grip, the other grabbing one of his beautiful horns and pulling him even closer to your quivering cunt.

“Gods, Rolan! So good, my love, you’re doing so good. You’re so good – fuck!”

You came with another strangled cry of his name, barely registering the sound of whimpering preceding a few murmurs of your name. Still feeling as though you're floating, you feel Rolan retreat from between your legs, and move upwards on the bed to rest his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. Once your breathing steadied, you tapped the top of his head, and he mirrored the lopsided smile you wore when he looked up at you.

“May I return the favor?” you asked, voice breathless but sultry.

“Oh, that’s not – that’s not necessary,” Rolan quickly answered, and you could swear he turned a few shades of red darker.

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to,” you noted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Your fingertips brushing over the shell and point of his ear sent a shiver through him. “But if you aren’t comfortable with that –”

“No, no, darling, it’s not that,” he hurriedly explained, then let out an awkward, dry laugh. “I am, um…. I have enjoyed myself a sufficient amount already.”

With furrowed brows, you opened your mouth to ask him to clarify, when you realized the groin area of his robes felt slightly damp where it pressed against your leg. Rolan expected you to tease him, or comfort him in a way that would only make him feel belittled. Instead, a wicked grin spread across your face, and he became the one with furrowed brows.

You ran your fingertip over the point and sides of his ear again, following it down his jawline, before hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards.

“Do I taste that good, my pretty wizard?” you purred, and Rolan’s eyes fluttered shut, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. “Or was it me telling you how good you were to me? Or, perhaps, me pulling on your pretty horns and pretty hair?"

“Yes,” he breathed, too lost in the feeling of your other hand carding through his hair before tracing circles on his back.

“Yes to which, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“All of it.”

“Good boy,” you praised, and Rolan let out the faintest groan.

You hummed amusedly, leaning down to kiss him – much too quickly for his liking, as he chased after you for more. You stopped him with a finger to his lips, and stated, “Don’t be greedy.”

[stayxstraykidss]

Nobel Blood

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Penetrate sex, Tail rubbing?, Desk sex, Cream pie.

Summary: High society has never been your thing, and now your having to go to the Raven Ball...Maybe you will see a familiar face trying to conduct himself in a new landscape...

A/N: This might be completely self indulgent...but I liked it...

Word Count: 7,370 (I got carried away...)

“What about this one? What do you think?” 

Rolan appears from behind his changing screen in a new blue jacket with silver embroidery and buttons. The collar and cuffs are lined with silver. His pants are black and a bit tighter to his body than he is accustomed to. The boots he’s wearing are shining and new. Giving himself a once-over in the mirror in his room, he turns around, holding out his arms. 

“Be honest… Thoughts?”

A very bored-looking Cal is lying on Rolan's bed. He turns his head, looks at his brother, and gives him a once-over. 

“Like I told you about the four other outfits… You look fine. Please just pick one!” 

Rolan scoffs, “Cal, this is important. I have to look my best to make a good first impression. There will be a lot of important people there today. This could lead to some great opportunities.” 

Cal looks at Rolan, a bit worried, “Rolan, you are putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Just go and relax, maybe meet someone, make friends. You know, have fun!” 

Rolan rolls his eyes as he does his hair in his usual tight, twisted bun, “I’m not going to waste the opportunity to have fun!” 

Once he had finished with his hair, he adjusted his collar before turning to have Cal assess him once more. When he turned, he saw the prominent frown on Cal's face. He sighs, “Cal, you know how people look at us. This is a chance to change people's perceptions.” 

“The right people, you don't have to change their perceptions…” 

The room is quiet, and a silent understanding fills the space. The silence is cut by Lia busting through the doors of the master bedroom. Looking at them like they have lost their minds. 

“What are you two doing? Rolan, stop fussing and get going! You get invited to a ball and waste your time primping!” 

Rolan sighs as Lia dusts off his shoulders and places his invite in his jacket pocket. Pausing, she looks at his hair and starts to pull and loosen his usual style, making it softer looking with some strains to frame his face and the tips of his ears poking out a bit more, 

“What the hells Lia! My hair was fine!” 

“No, you always wear it so tight you want it looser, rugged.” 

“I’m going for cool and collect.” 

“Yeah, but ladies like a bit of ruggedness.” 

Rolan swats away her hands and starts to leave, 

“I'm not going there to get a date!”

Lia huffs at his leaving figure, “Hopeless…” 

Cal looks over at Lia, “Any chance he’s going to loosen up and have a good time tonight.”  

Lia takes a moment to ponder the question, “If the right person talks to him.”

-KAW!-

The sudden noise tries to break you from your slumber, but only briefly before you lol back to your dreams…magic hands…a soft warmth…a husky whisper…

-KAW KAW!-

The dream is ripped from you as your eyes are popped open; on pure instinct, you reach for your knife under your pillow, but as you look towards the noise, you pause. 

The Falcon blinks and tilts its head at you, curiously fidgeting and hopping closer to you. You pull your hand away from the blade and sigh at the familiar bird, “Hello, Rune. Do you have something for me?” 

Rune turns, revealing a message carrier just like you expected, “Clever bird,” 

Reaching over you, you scratch her neck while you retrieve the message from the red tube. The tube has an emblem very familiar to you: a golden long sword with vines and two golden roses by the sword's hilt. The paper is thick and white, wrapped with a red ribbon. Unwrapping it, you see the fancy script, and it clicks to you what is happening. 

“An invitation for the Raven Ball…and I'm guessing they are hoping for me to attend?” 

Rune kaws in what seems to be agreement; you nod at her. 

“Well, I guess I should head that way… she's bound to be waiting for me.” 

Walking up to the massive mansion lined with guards and littered with candles. The entryway is opened for the invited to shuffle in and out of the party. Just deep breaths, smile, and be pleasant…have grace, and don’t throw punches to the face; saying the rhyme in your head brings back fond memories, and you have to stifle a laugh breaking from your throat. One of your two companions notices you hiding a smirk; he notices everything, and it never fails to drive you crazy. 

“Nervous Darling?” Astarion smirks, his red eyes observing you as if he could read your mind. 

“Nope, are you?” You challenge. 

Astarion fakes a laugh and smiles, showing his long fangs flashing in the candlelight. “Never” 

Typical…

Walking through the entrance is like walking through time; these balls have always been the same. The host and the house may change, but the overcrowded rooms are filled with the rich and self-important. Deep breaths… keep taking deep breaths….

Arriving at the main hall of the home with Astarion and Shadowheart in tow, you pause with them as they marvel at the grand space. It truly is a beautiful event. Servers glide around the room with their pristine trays, serving fine wines to everyone; Astarion is quick to grab himself a glass as they walk past. The center of the room is filled with people clapping and turning, floating along to the music. Shadowheart keeps her green eyes scanning the dance floor; she is looking for someone in particular…it is the only reason she decided on attending this ball, along with your pleading. Moving your eyes around the space, the candles light the room brightly and make the gilded arches and decor glimmer in an almost magic shine. Knowing how these people love theatrics, they probably had wizards put on some spells for the grandeur of it all. 

Turning to your friends, you see they are entirely taken in by the atmosphere, though when Astarion meets your eyes, he plays his wonderment off as if this is nothing to him. As they continue to stroll about, you continue to fuss around with your dress, the corset's tightness starting to irritate you, and the flowing skirt and sleeves feeling like they're going to wrap around your legs and trip you. You curse under your breath as you have a small battle with the dress picked out for you. 

“Dress issues?” Astarion teases 

You roll your eyes, and you adjust the bodice up, but you find the action is in vain as your cleavage is still on full display. It's been years, and it makes sense the dress wouldn’t lay the same, but the high golden necklace always sat tight on your neck, forcing you to keep your head up, the exposedness of your chest and shoulders always made your cheeks flush, and the tight bodice lined with gold down to your hips always made your breath short. You did like the ruffled white skirt with the red front panel and the matching red sleeves that go from bust to cascade down your arms; it did look nice. But the part you constantly fidget with for comfort is the emblem at the center of your sweetheart neckline. It's that same one it's always been, a golden longsword with two golden roses…

“Just…adjusting…” you smirk back to hide your irritation. 

“These corsets are murder but do wonders for the figure at least?” Shadowheart chimes in 

Her silvery white hair contrasted beautifully with her lilac silk dress. The fabric looks like it drapes and flows effortlessly off her polling elegantly at the bottom, and as she moves, it reveals a long slit over her right leg. For a dress she picked out today, it looks like it could have been custom-made for her. She had fussed about the dress and her hair, wearing it in a different style than usual, but you assured her she looked terrific and would catch the eye of a certain soon-to-be duke…

Astarion places reassuring hands on yours and her shoulders. “Well, the dresses are definitely an improvement from the drab, caked-up with, grime outfits I had grown accustomed to seeing you in.” 

You both look at each other before looking at him unamused. “Thanks, Astarion…” you say in unison, not completely happy that he pointed out your dirty states on the journey you all met on. 

“Anytime Darlings~” 

Shadowheart’s eyes go back to the dancefloor, and you think for a moment that you see her getting on her tiptoes (despite being in heels) to look over some heads. 

“I think I might stroll around the room…see if I can find any…interesting company.”

You and Astarion look at each other, knowing what she truly means; translation: Shadowheart is going to look for Wyll. They are such an opposite duo, but they are just drawn to one another. Astarion always teases the names Shadow Princess and the Horned Prince when talking about them and their longing for each other. 

Shadowheart turns to see your smirking faces and she rolls her eyes before walking off. Good luck you silently wish for her… 

You watch as she makes her way through the crowd, a part of you wants to go with her to help navigate the space but you know she wants privacy for this and you don’t blame her. While you watch the floor a familiar sensation of red eyes and a fiendish smirk being placed in your direction makes you shudder. Looking up at him you see a very well-dressed Astarion looking like a vision in all black except for the wine-colored small jacket and gold and ruby necklaces hanging from his neck. When you asked about the jewels he just chuckled and left a quick poke on your nose, a way to irritate you and avoid your questions. He continues to stare and smile at the devious thoughts running rampant in his mind. 

“Yes?” 

Astarion looks away with a slight laugh, “Oh, nothing nothing…just curious if you were going to go look for anyone special tonight. Any fine suitors on the line for you to turn about with?” 

When asked only one person flashes in your mind, but you shake it off not wanting to get your hopes too high. He would probably find something like this a waste of time. 

“No, I’m planning a rather dull evening of just watching the grander, saying hi to familiar faces. No suitors eager for my hand. You?” 

Astarion looks around the room piercing his lips, “I might also be having a rather drab evening…nothing seems to catch my eye, which is too bad I was in the mood to make some trouble.” 

A slight laugh escapes your throat and Astarion looks at you with a raised brow, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just think you have changed a lot since a certain bear tagged along…come to think of it you just came back from the old shadow lands and are planning to go back…” 

Astrion narrows his eyes at you and you grin widely knowing he’s smitten. 

“Very clever…well, I will leave you to it, going to go find some more wine and maybe go rub elbows with some important-looking people…” 

“Play nice Astarion!” 

“No promises! Ta Ta!” 

With both your friends gone you're now alone in the ballroom and now it definitely feels like old times. Memories of your childhood flash through your mind as you watch. In your memory it's a younger you, biting her lip in disdain and fumbling with her dress, head sore with the elaborate braids that were decorated with trinkets and jewels. The biggest thing you remember? The feeling so isolated and unwelcomed by people meant to be your peers. You can recall two gentle hands placed on your shoulders as people just passed you by…

Shaking off the memories you look at the huddles of people near the walls engaged in conversations, “Well, better go say hi to mom and dad…” Gathering up your skirt and taking another deep breath you go on the prowl. 

It was overwhelming and Rolan had to stand to the side to recollect himself. It turns out that coming to socialize with people from the upper city was a lot more difficult than he initially expected. He was starting to wonder why the hell he came here. Yes, he had been formally invited but the people didn’t seem to know who he was or they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Was this all a joke…was he just a thing to be stared at and mocked for the night's entertainment?

Looking down at his crimson hands and long nails…his tail twists around his leg as he balls his hands into tight fists. He shouldn’t have come here, he didn’t belong. Cal and Lia had been so excited about his invitation and were eager to help him get ready with high hopes of him growing his name to the city's lords and ladies. He had promised to make friends and get them invited to the next ball, but now that seems like a silly fantasy. 

Unraveling his tail and holding his head up, he decides to leave until a familiar figure catches his eye. Astarion? The pale elf has his red eyes on Rolan while keeping a smug smile on his face, instead of waving or greeting him; however, Rolan's thoughts trail to something, someone else. Scanning the room he’s hoping to catch the sight of a particular hero…

“If it isn't the Archmage of Ramaziths Tower, I figured you would see these parties as a waste of time.” 

Rolan's body immediately tenses and he turns around quickly, You smile for having spooked him. You watch as his shining eyes widen as they trail over you, his lips slightly parted and you think you hear his tail fall to the ground. From his reaction alone you're suddenly no longer lamenting having to wear the dress and in fact decide to stand a bit straighter. Once he realizes he’s staring he averts his gaze from your chest and neck, clearing his throat. 

“Tav, what…why?”

“What? Not happy to see me? 

“I- no…I mean I am! Well not happy, I mean I am happy but not super happy, but a surprised happy! Uh…pleasantly surprised….” 

His eyes meet yours and winces at himself, understanding how these parties can whine someone up you decide to ease the tension. Giggling at his rambling you gently punch his shoulder breaking the awkwardness threatening to set in. The force of the punch causes him to stumble and smile. 

“It’s good to see you, but I’m a little shocked. I figured these parties would be far too stuffy for such a great adventuring hero of the gate.” 

You shrug looking out to the party where you see Astrion watching you two, you give him a look of ‘what?’ and he shakes his head with a smirk and walks away. You turn back to Rolan, 

“Actually I’m pretty used to these stuffy parties.” 

Rolan’s brows furrow as he looks down at you confused, you do the same as you look up at him, and then it clicks. 

“Rolan, I’m from Baldur's Gate. I grew up having to go to these parties and having to take etiquette classes. My mother is a countess, from a long line of nobility and my father is a general for a regiment of the city's army.” 

Rolan's eyes widen as you nonchalantly explain your past, “Your… a lady from an important house of Baldur's Gate…and you were out slumming it in the wild? Wielding swords and blowing up goblin camps?” 

Thinking for a second you nod “Yeah, my dad used to take me camping and taught me how to fight. Mom wanted me to be a proper socialite but I didn't exactly fit in… Once I got older they told me I could go travel the swords coast, get the wildness out of me before finding a suitor, ya know?” 

Rolan shakes his head with a smile, “So you left all of this to adventure and ended up getting a tadpole in your head. That inevitably leads you back here…” 

“Hey, I had adventures before that! But I will say that one was my favorite.” 

Rolan smirks and looks down at you, “Because it made you a hero?” 

You look up at him, his gentle gaze and soft loose strands of hair cascading around his horns making your heart flutter, “Because I got to make friends, and meet you.”  

Rolan's face gets slightly darker as he thinks of something to say. With him tongue-tied you take the opportunity to tease him more by sticking your tongue at him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, you swear you see the tips of his ears a light hue of marron now. 

“Why are you here? And are Cal and Lia with you? I miss them and their tormenting of you.” You continued to tease. Though you see Rolan’s face slightly drop. 

“Well…I was the only one to receive an invitation and I didn’t realize I could bring anyone…I wish I would have, with them around I wouldn’t feel so…” Rolan shakes his head as if to shake away his thought, “I came here to meet people to get them interested in the tower's knowledge and to show that I am a worthy archmage. But I haven’t been able to talk to anyone “ 

Your heart sinks as you listen to Rolan, you remember having to go there alone at times…Rolan is always trying so hard for his family, it's quite honorable of him and one of the things that drew you to him. Thinking for a moment you try to think of a plan before it hits suddenly, “Rolan I can get you a formal introduction to someone who is very important and that I know would like to hear about the tower.” 

Rolan’s face lights up, “I would, I would be so grateful.” 

Smiling you wrap your arm around Rolan’s elbow, a part of you thought that he would recoil but he seems to welcome the gesture by straightening his posture and tightening up his arm. Your hand creases his bicep and it takes every part of you not to start teasing him about his surprisingly muscular form. Act like a proper socialite, for Rolan’s sake. 

As you two stroll about the floor you keep your eyes peeled. Though you do see some people staring at you and Rolan as you walk arm in arm, you figure people are just wanting to gawk at the hero and the new archmage. 

“Seems like we are popular sights tonight.” 

Rolan hums, “I think you are the popular sight, I’m probably more of the skeptical…” 

“Specktical?” 

Looking over to meet your eyes Rolan just gently squeezes your hand, “Never mind, uh, so who are we looking for?” 

“Her.” 

Pointing out your finger you lead Rolan’s eyes to a group of women fanning themselves as they scan their eyes like hawks around the room. They are all dressed immaculately and as the two of you approach they keep their eyes locked on you both. One of the women quickly whispers to a taller woman, the taller woman turns and Rolan has to hold back his gasp. 

She looks like you…well an older version but still stunning. Rolan feels his throat instantly dry and when he looks over to you with a panicked expression, he admittedly comprehends what's happening and he’s never felt so unprepared in his life. Feeling him tense you keep a soft smile and gently rub small circles on his hand, trying to ensure he’s calm when meeting your mother. 

In front of the intimidating woman (he sees where you get it now) you release yourself from his arm and give a curtsy. Rolan follows your lead and gives a bow. 

“Countess, I would like to formally introduce you to Archmage Rolan, Master of Ramaziths Tower. Rolan, this is the Countess, also known as my mother.” 

You feel your cheeks grow red, you're introducing a man to your mother…you never thought this would be happening, it’s very proper of you. Looking up at her face you see a soft smile, for her that’s practically beaming. So far so good. 

“I heard about the last master's passing…” she says casually. You and Rolan exchanged a glance before she continued “Can’t say I wasn’t fond of the news, he was always a poor representation of the tower. A bit of a cad.” 

Rolan’s jaw practically drops and you are quick to continue the conversation for him while he recollects himself, 

“Well, I will have to tell you Rolan is quite proficient in magic, self-taught and self-disciplined. He plans on studying and cataloging the tomes in the tower to then share the knowledge with the realms.” You praise 

“That's quite the honorable aspiration for a young man. I am sure everyone would be quite pleased to have access to its knowledge. I have been to your tower once before in my youth, the smell of the weave in the air and the majesty of all the books still leaves me with pleasant memories.” 

Meaning: ‘Invite me over to see the tower again because ladies do not invite themselves places’. You're not a bit surprised your mother is taking a fast liking to Rolan, he has a title, is respectable, and usually can hold his own in a conversation but today he seems to keep getting tongue-tied, we’ll chop that up to nerves. With a subtle nudge to his arm, you break him out of his daze where he can give her a proper answer. 

“Well, th-thank you. I think everyone should have access to knowledge if they want it. Also, you and Tav should join me at the tower for tea. I will have to prepare a bit but I would be delighted to have you two there.” 

Two of her ladies-in-waiting mutter something to each other earning them a prompt glare from the Countess. They quickly scurry away. 

“I would be delighted to just name the date. Plus I would love to hear about how you two met, knowing my daughter that story will be filled with twists and turns.” 

Rolan giggles and you look at your mom in shock as she openly teases you. You have never seen her be so casual with a stranger, well for her this is casual. You can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, you never were one to crave approval from anyone but it does feel nice when your Mother seems to improve the boy you like. 

“I will have you know I handled myself with dignity and grace-“ 

“I watched her punch someone in the face for defending my kind, it was a lasting impression, a good one,” Rolan says with a laugh and causes your mother to let out a giggle -that woman never giggles!

“Well I will have to forgive her for that, sounds like that punch was well deserved.” Your mother looks at you and you see a softness in her eyes “My tough girl.” 

The moment is soft before your mother changes the subject. Ladies must keep the conversation flowing after all.  

“Now Tav, why don’t you introduce Master Rolan to your father? I’m sure he would love to meet him.” 

With a curtsy and a bow, you two make your way to find your father. 

“Never seen you so proper…” Rolan leans down to whisper in your ears, you have to fight the tingling that threatens to show on your skin. Nothing quick like his mockery so close to you. 

You take Rolan's arm so he’s leading you through the room, “Never seen you so tongue-tied…” you mock back.

“She's intimidating… I see where you get it from…” 

“You should see when she doesn’t like someone, that’s intimidating.” 

“Any warnings about your father? Or do you plan to surprise me again?” 

“Oh but you do look so cute lost for words, I didn’t know wizards had that capability.” you coo back now blatantly flirting, very unladylike. The scandal…

Feeling bold Rolan tightens his grip on your arm where you can feel his nails against your skin, it is mind-numbing this sudden game. “And I didn't know how ravishing you look in a dress so tightly wound to you.” 

The sudden boldness of his words makes you pause, and your cheeks redden. Rolan nervously clears his throat unsure if he overstepped… he brings his eyes up for a distraction and lucky for him he finds one. 

“Tav look”, Following his gesture to the dance floor you see a heartwarming sight that distracts your thrumming heart. Wyll spins around the dance floor holding Shadowheart close to his body and he leads her through the dance. They look like a vision together, everyone seems to pause and look at them as they command the space with little effort. 

It's while you're watching them you feel a warm hand wrapping around your own. Looking up to its source you see Rolans gleaming eyes on yours taking you in slowly. You swear it’s a secret spell of his to become out of breath and feel sparks when you look at him. The feeling rushes through your veins like it has since you first met him at the grove and all the moments after. Rolan's lips part gracing you with a quick view of his sharp teeth till suddenly you feel yourself being grabbed and thrown into the air.

“And! There is my wayward daughter! Our righteous hero graced us with her presents! Ha Haaa!” 

The voice is loud and booming as the large arms wrap around you forcing your body into the air before crashing you back down to your heeled feet. Your father, as bostress as ever and completely uncaring for these parties 'etiquettes’ as always. In a lot of ways, the apple did not fall from the tree. 

Taking a moment he scans over you, it's been far too long since you saw him, and from how you ramble and rave at each other it shows. Then his eyes start to scan around you till they are meeting with Rolans, and your father smiles like a Cheshire cat. 

“Ah, and I see the rumors are true. You have a gentleman escort this evening.” 

“Actually I have two others but one is dancing with the Duke's son while the other is bound to be causing trouble.” 

“Trading in for different companies.” His eyes go to Rolan and you see him tease over your father's gaze, “Now to see if this man was worth it.” 

“Well, he is a wizard…” Your eyes go to Rolan and you two are now assessing him

“Meet plenty of spellcasters,”

You continue, “Archmage of Ramiths tower…he got the areca artillery working in the battle saving my and my friends' necks. 

“The Fire Rainer!” Your father yells, making Rolan and nearby people jump.

Before Rolan can properly process what is happening your Father is grabbing his hand in a crushing grip that Rolan returns. 

“My men, We were all in awe of your work getting those dusty turrets to work. And for helping my Tav. Good man.” he continues to shake Rolan's hand for a long moment before letting go and placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“He’s good company to keep, strong grip and with fire in his eyes.” 

You look at Rolan giving him a nod of a good job before your father is turning to both of you. With a wide grin. 

“Now! Rolan, if you walk around with my daughter you must ask her for a dance!” 

Rolan stutters over his words as you look at your father like he’s lost his mind. 

“Dad, You can’t make him dance.”

“Why not? He wishes to be near you; he must dance with you.” 

The words make you flush as you avoid Rolan's eyes, “He’s not the dancing type…” 

This causes Rolan to lift a brow, then you feel Rolan’s warm hands on yours leading you suddenly towards the dance floor. In a swift flourish, Rolan spins you and grasps his hand in yours, placing the other on your hip and smirking at your shocked expression…

“Looks like he is!” your father calls barely audible through the music. 

The transition to the dance is effortless as you two glide across the floor. Watching his glimmering eyes on yours is spurring your heart into a rush. Your body feels like it’s on fire as he effortlessly glides you through turns and claps. Eyes never leaving one another. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance?” 

Rolan scoffs, “Of course, I know how to dance, you don’t think I haven’t gone to parties before?”

lifting a brow, you look at him with an unamused expression, “OK, I might have practiced…”

You laugh and let him spin you out, then catching your hand and pulling you back to him. His hands in yours, your back flushed to his chest. The dance is completely intertwining, his scent, his warmth, the purring of his chuckling laugh. You want more, your hope is for this dance to never end so you can stay in his arms.

With a twist and a sway of your hips, you smile at him as the blush rushes to his speckled cheeks, a reminder that you are experienced at these dances and you will not hesitate to spice up the moves if it means rubbing against him. It makes his heart thum as he turns you around again, his tail wrapping slightly around your dress as he steps with you till plunging you down to a dip.

A perfect dance partner, finally.

You two stay locked within each other's snare, a small feeling of leaning forward towards each other causing your mouth to water in anticipation of a kiss. Then breaking you two from the moment is roaring applause that fills the room. He lets you rise, and you two join the applause of the musicians as well.

A normal socialite would worry if people could tell how much you liked him. You don’t care, however, Rolan is magnificent, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs, but you know this is his chance to impress rich bastards and prove himself worthy of his new illustrious Title. Of course, the right people already know this, he doesn’t need to impress them.

As you look to the crowd to make your way to your dad to give him sass (and maybe a pat on the back for making that happen for you) you see Rolan Pointing to the front part of the dance floor, music starting to swell up again and your father and mother swaying to the song. Another set of perfectly matched dance partners. 

Offering his elbow to you again, you curtsy at Rolan's gesture and let him lead you off the floor. A perfect gentleman, If your mother is watching she is beaming with pride (though she will talk to you about that hip swaying later). Off the floor, your dry throat hits you,

“ I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Oh I can-“

“Rolan I can grab drinks, I’m still a hero of the Gate, not a delicate flower.” You tease him.

“A glass of wine sounds great then,” 

“I will be a quick second, wait here” With that you gather your skirt and shuffle away. Both of you trying to hide your dorky grins for one another. 

Then a stray voice catches Rolan off guard, “Dancing with a noble…but don’t forget you're just hellspawn trash…” 

Roland’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly, but he is met with nothing but a crowd of people wrapped in their own world. One that some are not willing to invite him to. He watches them so clearly, trying not to stare, others staring, and sharing whispers. Then his eyes meet yours.

Golden eyes that you can always catch in any crowd. They shine his brilliance and never fail to make your heartbeat rush. Anyone would be lucky to have him look their way and right now that’s you, drinks in hand, you pick up your speed to get to him faster, but then his starburst eyes shut in something that resembles pain and then he’s gone…Rushing out of the room away from you.

Pausing you watch him leave, your heart sinking to your stomach. Swallowing down the feeling you place the cups on the nearest waiter's tray and run after him.

The hallways are dark as you follow after him. It only gets darker and darker, till you see him dipping into a side room, shutting the door behind him. It takes a bit of self-control on your part, not to rip the door off its hinges as you open it, but the site makes you slow down.

His tail twisted tightly to his leg, hands in his hair, and talking quickly in infernal. Gently you close the door behind you, and with a click lock giving you two privacy in the dark office. Rolan's shoulders tense at the sound of the lock, he can’t bear to look and see your disappointment. You carefully approach as he braces his hands down on the desk. His body so tight you think he will snap two.

“Rolan, wh-what happened?” 

Turning his head, his golden eyes shine through the darkness. And they see you perfectly. Face contorted in worry as you gently approach. Your face is the one he knows, the one he saw shining in the sunlight of the Grove, the face that saved him from shadows in the cursed land, the one who held his bruised face so gently promising Lorroakan would never hurt him again… the hero of the gate…his hero.

Then his eyes tail down, his Tav, the hero, dressed in the finest fabrics, a lady of Noble Birth, someone too good for someone like him.

In your eyes, you see him for what he truly is, a strong dreamer, someone who you would walk through the Hells for. A man so dedicated to the ones he loves, you want to love and care for him till your last breath.

“I don’t belong here…I am a joke…a monster for everyone to gawk at.” He finally confesses. 

Your eyes grow wide and all you feel is anger, “Did someone say something to you…do something?! Who? I swear I will-“ 

Before you can, march back into the ballroom and demand reconciliation with blood, you feel warmth wrapping around your shoulders and around your ankle. Rolan's warmth envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Clinging to his forearms you lean into him letting yourself calm.

“You're better than any of them…” you whisper

“Is that what you think?” he mutters in response

“Rolan it’s what I know, you're extraordinary.” 

Rolan’s arms tighten around you making you never want to leave his caress, but you still turn to look at him. placing a hand on his face, he’s perfect in your eyes…

“We are different…” he almost pouts

“I like our differences.” 

Rolan’s hands slip down to your waist. 

“Won’t they slander you, and your family's name?” 

“Not the people who matter to me…” your words like a promise

You lean into him rising to your toes to be only a touch away from his lips. You feel his breath fan across yours, and a rush of desire floods your body and mind.

“They will say I tainted you…” his hands caressing your face so gently

“They can go fuck themselves” 

The smile you two share is perfect, right before he presses his lips to yours. His lips caressed yours, setting your body a flame, his nails digging into the sides of your dress, and as you felt their points, you gasped and let him trail his lips sloppily on your jaw to your neck. Your mind melted at every rush of his lips, becoming more breathless as the pleasure of this moment crashed over you then pooling into an aching need in your lower stomach. All the blood and the thoughts rush to your swelling bud, leaving your mind in a haze of lust.

Rolan’s tongue licks down at your clavicle while his hands move to cup your breast. You can’t help but shake as he presses kisses and sucks marks to the tops of them. Rolan’s lips find yours again in hunger this time as his tongue seeks to taste more of you. Eargery you met his passion with your own tasting, his wine-laced tongue burning against yours. Undoing the buttons of his jacket you strip it off him in a rush. Once it’s off and tossed to the floor he breaks the kiss and whimpers against your lips, his chest vibrating under your fingertips in a purr. 

Turning you quickly, your thighs meet the side of the desk as his lips continue to caress your neck, removing your necklace to nip on your most sensitive spots, all you can do is moan and chant a series of ‘yeses’ and sweet mews of his name. He hums as he spoils himself, touching all over your form. 

“More, Rolan…I want to feel more,” your pant 

“Here?” The question is raspy and sends shivers through you to your sex. 

“Yes.” 

Rolan responds by peppering kisses all over you as he quickly gathers your skirt around your hips. Bending over you feel your face burn as you hear is breath hitch, 

“F-fuck…” he whispers 

You're already bare opting for no underwear, a destination you made on a meer whim but are happy with now. A whimper escapes him as he views you slick and puffy cunt for him, in a deep dialect he mutters something you can not understand that causes your slit to quiver. he no longer has patience his want takes control and you hear his frantic hands undoing his belt. 

The moment is eager and full of hunger, the want between you two building to this moment of passion. Rolan has your skirts gathered in a fist as he pushes his burning erection through you making your head spin. The moment is raw and hungry as he hisses from your walls so tight and soft around him, fuck, nobody told him how…soft humans were…

The feeling of the stretch is eye-watering as a lewd moan erupts from your throat, then the feeling of every ridge sliding and reshaping your velvet insides. The curve of his cock brings his sharp tip to find your sensitive spot, nudging and coating it in his burning precum, your toes curl in your heels as your vision blurs, tightening your grip on the oak desk. It's hot, intense, and the best pleasure you have ever felt. 

Rolan whimpers and moans as he pushes into your heat further. His face comes down to bury himself into your neck grunting in what sounds more like a whine. Sweat is sheening both of you now in this heated moment your only reprieve of coolness is his panting breath on your neck. Then his hand comes down to yours bracing you and he intervenes his fingers with yours before he gives a final thrust, his blazing tip now nudging on the deepest parts of you. Your slit is taut and your insides flutter against him as you get accustomed to his rigged girth. 

“Gods, you feel amazing. Practically sucking me in…” his rich voice rasps into your ear making you shudder. 

Taking a second to breathe in the scent of your sweaty neck and your cascading hair; further getting drunk off you. He rolls his hips back, and the drag of his ridges on your gummy walls is an unimaginable pleasure making you arch in a scream to your god. 

Pulling to the tip it’s only a second of emptiness before his hips are snapping back into you forcing all the air from your lungs. Continuing to thrust into you back and forth at a constant pace, you mew and grip his hand so tightly. Your arousal drips down his cock and your thighs as it's fucked out of you, desperate to coat his cock. 

“Their mighty hero…sweating and dripping for me. You're my girl…you have always been…”  

You can’t even think coherent thoughts only able to respond by arching your back further. The room is drowned in your cock drunk moans and his deep growling as your pussy continues to get ravished by him. Hot waves start to build up in your stomach leaving tingles in their wake as you approach your ecstasy. Rolan feels your trembling against his cock making him angle it in deeper. He’s right in his sentiment…you are his…as he is yours…the bond you share led to this moment of passion—the ultimate satisfaction of the want you have for each other. 

It's bliss and you rock your hips to meet his thrust, a chuckle escapes him before you feel the rough dragging being rewarded to your clit. It's warm and soft with lines of ridges dragging against you. It only dawns on you as you feel its spaded tip you realize he’s grinding his tail against your sticky sex. Both sensations make spots blur your vision as drool begins to pool in your agape mouth.  

In a silent scream, your orgasm crashes over you as all your essences coats him dripping down to fall on his boots and pooling to the floor. Rolan guides you through your high not stopping his thrust while your sex desperately grips him. A ring of creamy arousal forms where you both connect. The sight and feel of your overstimulated pussy fluttering is enough to cause his hips to still and his cock to throb shooting blissfully hot cum in thick spurts, filling you to the brim. The growl is guttural and vibrates through him as he comes down from his high.

Rolan presses his forehead to your shoulder blades as he stays within you for a moment longer letting his ridges smooth as his cock softens till finally pulling out. You can feel the mix of both releases leaking down your legs uncomfortably resisting the urge to beg him to finger it back in. 

“Wait one moment,” he says quickly with a soothing rub to your waist as you hear him digging around for his discarded jacket. 

Then very gently you feel a soft cotton cloth whipping you down to clean you. Soft ‘shhs’ and coos leave his lips and he is careful over your spet sex. He takes his time, then once you're cleaned and your dress is back down you face his back as he cleans himself, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he retucks himself. Leaning back against the desk you relish in watching him rebutton himself up so elegantly. 

His golden eyes stay on you as he gently caresses your sweaty face. Before he leaves he will snap his figures with a spell to clean you two of any lewd residue, but for now, he wants to relish your afterglow. You two stay in silent bliss and his eyes roam over your face, your fingers gently playing with the loose strains of his hair. He’s the first to speak up, 

“I want to court you properly.” 

Your eyes grow wide, and so does your smile, your heart racing, and sparks burst into your stomach. 

“If you were planning to court me, we have already messed up. You're not supposed to have sex beforehand.” 

“I don’t care; I’m not of noble blood, so I will do this my way.” there's that confidence.

Rolan pulls you in for a slow kiss that causes your heart to flip and your head to cloud in a pleasant fog. 

“Good,” you whisper 

Rolan backs up slightly and bows, causing you to giggle as he reaches for your hand. Placing your hand in his, you gently squeeze it as he brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly like a suitor would any proper lady.

[stayxstraykidss]

manibus adhuc mollior.

In celebration of 100 followers.

Pairing: AFAB!Tav/Rolan

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, canon-typical depictions of gore and violence, angst. 18+, Minors DNI.

Word Count: 2,861. Read it on AO3.

            The admittance of their feelings for one another had been agonizingly unceremonious; hurried, teary murmurs – quiet and resigned, as if to admit such a thing was to sentence the other to death. There was little time for grandstanding or lavish gestures, the Elderbrain visible in the sky, half the city in ruins. If he had had it his way, he would have courted her properly, he would have wined and dined her. Stargazing and stolen kisses and the slow thaw of their hearts behind their sternums.

            It seemed that lately, not much of anything ever went his way.

            He kissed her, then, and it felt more like a farewell than anything else. Firm and solid, a silent plea for her to come back to him. To not make their first be their last. Please, Tav, just this once, try not to get yourself killed. Please. He had half of a thought, selfish and unbidden, to ask her to stay. To set aside the heroics, to choose him over saving the world.

            But that wasn’t possible. This had always been her fight, and it would be her that saw it to its bitter conclusion, whatever that may be.

            The waiting feels like agony; an ache in his sternum that he has not felt since the Shadowlands when he was waiting to see if Tav came back with Cal and Lia. Hungry, feasting upon premature grief, a blossoming sorrow here before its season. He has no reason to be distraught – she may come back to him in one piece yet, a savior, bright and beautiful and brave. He’ll tend to her wounds and she’ll let out that stilted, relieved laugh that she so often does; the one where it cuts off into a choked, strangled sort of sob. And he’ll hold her. And they’ll have forever at their fingertips, a yawning expanse of possibility far larger than even that of the Weave.

            Or she’ll die, and he will once again learn to navigate the dying embers of loss.

            Hours blur into one another, and he finds himself restless. Pacing the library of the tower, suddenly so terribly unsure of how to take up space. He tries reading, but he cannot bring the words into focus sharply enough to comprehend them. He tries sleeping, but every time he closes his eyes he is haunted by images of her body, spattered with crimson, arms bent at odd angles, eyes lifeless and hollow.

            He settles for waiting on the ground floor, salves and elixirs on standby for her return. He will take care of her. He will prove that he, too, can be gentle. And he will never take her for granted ever again, he swears it.

            All plans of being a doting savior go out the window when she shows up to the tower. Her hair is matted with grime and viscera, her hands shake ever-so-slightly, and he’s certain it is the first time he’s ever seen her so visibly shaken. He assumes that it’s because of the fight, that the very foundations of her being have shifted from such a profound battle – she saved thousands of people, she is, by all accounts, a hero. Surely that is not a title won without hardships.

            But she’s pulling him into her arms hurriedly, burying her face in the crook of his neck as though he is the last thing keeping her grounded on this plane. And her voice trembles as she breathes against his skin, “I wasn’t sure – Gods above, I thought that I might have lost you.”

            “You were worried about me?” He winds his arms around her and holds her firmly. For once he cannot find a biting remark, a scathing retort; she is here, and she is alive, and he’s never been one for religion, but he is thanking every pantheon known to man in this moment. “You were the one out saving the world, Tav. I was worried sick about you.”

            “You? Worrying?” She pulls away from him to look him in the eye, her gaze something bright sparkling beneath the blood and the dirt. Her lips tilt up into a lopsided grin. “I never would have guessed that the revered Master of Ramazith’s Tower would be so prone to something as mundane as feelings.”

            “Yes, well, you have a remarkable knack for making me act rather out of character.” His hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb smoothing over a nick on her skin, his voice far, far softer than he thinks he has ever allowed it to be.

            He would move the heavens for her if she asked him to.

            They stay like that for a long moment, with her leaning into his touch and an unspoken understanding hanging between them. Words are wholly insufficient here; Common does not hold the syllables required to articulate the relief that weighs in his chest.

            “Are you hurt?” He asks quietly after a while.

            “Nothing that Shadowheart couldn’t heal.” She murmurs in response. “Just some bruises and cuts here and there. I’m fine, Rolan, I’m here. You can stop worrying. I came back to you.”

            “You came back to me.”

            “I promised you I would, didn’t I?” She smiles, soft around the edges.

            “So you did.” A quiet chuckle bubbles up from the back of his throat. The moment feels charged in a way that he cannot quite place; thick and heavy and suffocating. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear that the gloss to his vision is from tears, not weariness.

            She kisses him.

            It isn’t nearly as frantic and demanding as their first – shared in the tense moments before conflict, a demand for more to come. It is gentle, as she so often is; it feels much like coming home. Warm and relaxed, a promise of sorts. He meets it with equal tenderness, his eyes fluttering shut, a breath he did not know he was holding let out into the soft press of her mouth. His tail wraps around her waist as if of its own volition, staking a quiet claim. Alive. Mine. Together.

            She pulls away for a moment, her breathing a little heavier, ghosting against his face; she’s still millimeters away, looking up at him through her lashes, and he silently files the image for later.

            “You should get cleaned up.” He whispers.

            “I should.” She agrees, but then her lips are on his again – hungrier, this time, as if searching for proof that this moment is real; that she survived, that he is flesh and blood before her. Her hands curl loosely into the front of his robes, and he pulls her closer, one hand finding purchase on the space between her shoulder blades, the other tangling in her hair.

            He cannot be bothered to care about the blood – it’s nothing that a simple cast of prestidigitation cannot fix. He focuses on the shift of her ribs with every breath that she takes in, revels in the rise and fall of her chest where it is pressed against him. The feeling of her tucked into his arms, of her kiss, is far headier a blend than any glass of Arabellan Dry.

            Alive.

            She’s fumbling with the ties of his robes, and he remembers himself – where they are, the ash-choked air that seeps in through the cracks at the bottom of the front doors. The smell of flame hanging heavy around them.

            “Tav,” He rasps, pulling away and sucking in a breath. “We shouldn’t – not here.”

            “Why not?” Her hands pause their movements, and his protestations nearly go by the wayside when he sees how utterly debauched she looks in this moment; her lips spit-slick and flush, her pupils blown and eating away at the soft color of her irises. “This is your home, I thought we’d established that?”

            “I know, I just – I would really rather not have our first time be me pressing you against a desk like some depraved animal.”

            He’s thought about what it would be like to have her plenty of times now; what she would look like tangled in the soft silk of his sheets, her hair splayed out around her like a halo, her eyes screwed shut as he disassembled her piece by piece. Put her back together again. He would take her time with her, he would be reverential, he would show her the gratitude that he failed to in the past.

            “You’re a wizard.” She laughs, warm and husky, and the sound goes straight to his stomach. Pools there, cements itself. He feels ungentlemanly in the way his blood is rather quickly rushing southwards.  “Can’t you just… conjure up a bed or something?”

            “I could,” He muses, but decides that such a gesture would be wholly insufficient in displaying his adoration for her. “But we have time. Let us go upstairs.”

            The only magic he allows himself is a quietly uttered cantrip to clean the viscera from the both of them. He is all nerves as he closes the door of his bedroom behind them, suddenly feeling much more like a bumbling, awkward virgin than a prodigy of any kind. And she, always perceptive, picks up on the unease immediately. She settles herself onto the edge of his bed and beckons him to come sit beside her.

            His lips do not leave hers this time as they undress quietly; he is far easier a task than she is – armor is really rather difficult to remove, even more so when all logical thought has gone out the window and every ounce of blood in your body is focused between your thighs.

            When he does pull away to catch his breath, he’s afforded the opportunity to drink her in in all her glory. Bare and breathless before him, her skin a canvas littered with freckles, with cuts, with bruises. Some old and scarred, cigarette-paper thin reminders of the hardships she’s faced. Others new, likely from the ferocity of the fight today, scabbed over and tender still.

            She is the most stunning creature he has ever laid his eyes on.

            She looks apprehensive before him, suddenly a being of profound shyness, and he works to soothe that insecurity immediately; gently, he guides her to lay down on the mattress, and his lips find the soft slope of her neck. She sighs, soft and sweet, and a hand comes to his shoulders, fingers brushing over the leathery flesh of one of his vestigial wings. So sensitive, so unused to touch, he hisses out a breath between his teeth, sensation crackling through him – electric and bright and sharp.

            “Sorry.” She murmurs at the sound.

            “You hardly need to apologize. I rather like it when you touch me.”

            That seems to encourage her; she grows a little bolder, hands skirting over his skin – down his back, the meat of his flanks, the just of his hipbones. Touches every ridge and dip – and there are plenty – with a level of reverence he had never even considered he could be regarded with.

            Her nails graze over the base of his tail, and he has half a mind to be embarrassed by the sound that the action pulls from him; high and needy, his hips rolling against her thigh. She seems to gather some sort of satisfaction from that, because she repeats it, and he has to busy his mouth with other pursuits to keep the last scraps of his composure. He traces a path down her body, open-mouthed kisses against every bruise, every cut; this is not intimacy, this is worship – this is him posturing before her, heart split wide open, vivisection on full display; the edges of him ragged and weeping, hers to feast from as she pleases.

            He comes down to the soft expanse of her thighs, and her hands on him still, her breath hitching in anticipation. He looks up at her with heavily-lidded eyes as he kisses his way up them; a press of teeth here, a touch of tongue there. One her hands slides into his hair, fingers shaking as she gently grasps the strands – not hard enough to pull, but gentle enough to ground herself.

            “May I taste you, Tav?” He rasps, the words rumbling in his chest, his voice hoarse.

            Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she nods, her other hand grasping loosely into the sheets beneath her. He leans in and presses a kiss to her mound before flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up her slit. She keens, and the fingers tangled into his hair curl around one of his horns, gently tugging him closer.

            He takes her apart slowly, his tongue against her clit, his fingers curled inside of her. She’s a babbling mess, one hand fisted in the sheets, her hips bucking up into the contact. He uses the forearm of his free hand to hold her down gently, each movement laced with heavy deliberation – making mental notes of every sharp inhale, every ragged breath, every whimper.

            He sucks against her clit, and she falls apart without warning. Her head tilts back in a silent cry, her hand clawing against the base of his horn, unsure of whether to pull him against her or push him away. He slowly works her through it, looking up at her as he does – she’s beautiful here, flushed cheeks and heaving breath, white-knuckle grip against the sheets.

            He makes his way back up her body as she comes down, crashing his lips unceremoniously against hers. A jolt goes through him when she moans into his mouth at the taste of herself on his tongue, one of her hands resting on the nape of his neck, the other on his shoulder.

            “Fuck me.” She breathes out against his lips, hoarse and needy. “Please.”

            “Yes.” He pants, and one of his hands comes down to spread her open, the other lining himself up with her. She hooks her leg over his shoulder, and he sinks into her – slow, they have time, he has to remind himself. All they have now is time, he supposes.

            He lets out a choked sound as he bottoms out, one of his hands landing beside her to steady himself. He’s sure he’s a sight, hair falling in his face, having come loose from its tie at some point in the beginning of them kissing. His cheeks flushed, his lips parted, eyes screwed shut.

            “Rolan.” She manages, breathy and thin, her nails digging into his shoulders. He would do anything to hear his name in her voice like this time and time again; drunk on it, lost in it, drowning.

            The time for tenderness has passed. He is reduced to a thing of desperation, the need to let himself have this – to prove that this is real, that she is real – overrides all coherent thought. He rolls his hips against her, no longer having the wherewithal to have shame for the sounds he makes. They blur together anyways; the soft pitch of her moaning, the breath of his groans.

            “Fuck, Tav.” His free hand comes down between her legs, the pads of two callused fingertips finding her clit. “Want you to come for me again. Please.”

            “C-can’t –“ She tries, her voice breaking.

            “You can. You will.” He presses a little more firmly, circles a little tighter. The movement of his hips has become a stilted thing, rhythm quickly leaving him as he nears his own peak. “Please, love. Let me have it, let me feel you.”

            Her breath hitches and her muscles tense, and then she lets out a choked, sharp sound that sounds more like a sob than anything else. He falls apart with her, his hips stuttering, his nails digging into the sheets. He has a moment to settle himself next to her before his strength gives out, and his gaze is hazy as he looks up at the ceiling, his chest heaving with the effort of his breath.

            “I love you.” She breathes out into the stillness of the room, tucking herself against him, her cheek resting against his chest.

            It somehow feels more monumental than the sex, this proclamation – they’d disclosed feelings, yes, but that word, the heaviness of it, had not been uttered by either of them. It feels insufficient, to summarize the ache in his chest that he holds for her with a single word.

            And yet, at the same time, it feels like it is the only one that is correct.

            “I love you too, Tav.” He presses his lips to the crown of her head, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. “Please don’t go rushing into danger again. I rather like this.”

            “The sex?” She asks with a tired laugh, her lips splitting into a grin.

            “Not just that.” He rolls his eyes at her, his usual snark replaced by something far more boneless, something with far less teeth. “You, in general. Being with you.”

            The sincerity of it makes her stop, and she regards him with a softness that makes his stomach twist into knots. “I promise I won’t go anywhere this time, Rolan. I promise.”

            And he, probably foolishly, believes her.

[stayxstraykidss]

Some warm-up sketches

[stayxstraykidss]

i am completely enraptured with this gif

[stayxstraykidss]

Seeking Advice

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling?.

Summary: Asking out your crush can be difficult, Maybe you should seek advice from your friends on how to ask out your favorite wizard?

A/N: Look...I've been playing a lot of Baldur's Gate 3. Then this guy yelled at me and I fell. I have a thing for grumpy guys what can I say. Now do not worry! I still am writing for ATSV, TASM!Peter and my love Miguel, just I think I can squeeze the bg3 fandom on my blog. Trust I have plans for for all my fictional men. Plus I am working on request! Just had to get this story out, it was rotting my brain. Hope you enjoy it! Its kinda cheesy but its what I like, sorry.

Word Count: 6,957

The energy to the tavern is a welcomed one, All the noise you might have found irritating at a time is now a pleasant chime to your ears. How things can so easily change with time. Since becoming the city's hero many things have changed for you and your friends. The city is back to its wondrous glory. Finally, your life is starting to calm down, well for the most part… 

There is no longer a squirming in your head and the threats to the world's damnation are at the time eased, things should be perfect, and you should be happy riding an inexplicable high. You are happy for the most part, however there is just one thing that is causing you trouble now. It's the ache that swirls within you that only grows when you see him, the now master of Ramazith’s Tower, Rolan. 

The first time you felt it, it was simply a spark, harmless. It didn’t turn into this thrumming storm until the grove celebration after you defeated the goblin camp, and where he taught you his light spell. That night your fate was sealed, now as your friendship has grown you feel those glittering sparks storming through you more often. 

With a sigh, you rest your hazy head in your palm as you watch him with his siblings. The amber lights of Elfsong make his crimson skin appear as if it's glowing, he looks good in any lighting with his striking features but at this moment he looks damn near ethereal. You're acutely aware that you are staring at the trio, but in your buzzed haze from four wine goblets, you can not bring yourself to care. People are properly catching you staring like a lovesick fool; you will move your eyes eventually, you just want to watch for a bit longer. 

Rolan's journey to the city was different than yours but it was not without its hurdles, then when he got here he had to be met with the cruelty of Lorroakan. You won’t lie, you felt immense pleasure watching his spine get cracked in two for what he had done. Now with that horror over, the scars have faded and you see that Rolan is better, happier. He smiles just a bit wider and his eyes shine just a tad bit brighter. It only makes sense that the Tower and Sundries have become more successful with his influence, though you know he’s just happy that his family is now together and safe. 

Blindly you bring the metal goblet to your lips and taste the tang of the red wine nursing you through your pinning. The drink was meant to boost your confidence to go over there and shoot your shot for a date, but it only makes your head cloud into hopeless romantics. Why can’t you just ask him out? You can take on a horde of knols but you can’t bring yourself to confess to the guy you like? Doesn't get more pathetic than that…

Your eyes stay fixed on Rolan as he smirks and rolls his eyes at what Cal is saying, his clawed hand grabs his goblet and you watch as he brings the drink to his lips. Feeling looser from drinking you see as the red wine slightly escapes the side of his lips as he chugs the drink down. The deep red rolls down his jaw and you have to bite your lip from the thoughts that erupt in your mind. 

“Darling, you have got to stop staring.” 

With a sigh, you turn your head to your pale companion with a devilish smile on his face. With a roll to your eyes, you take another drink of your wine trying your best to play unbothered by Astarion as you can. 

“I wasn’t staring” 

“Tav, let's not be coy, you haven’t moved your eyes from a particular wizard since he strolled in. Sighing and squeezing your thighs together like that's going to help your ache.” 

The mentioning of the actions you thought were unnoticed makes your face blush from embarrassment. Asterion can only laugh at your fluster features as you look around the crowded tavern to see hints if others have noticed. 

“I- wasn’t, you don’t-” 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you could pick far worse. He’s a bit pompous for my taste, but the innocent little freckles on his face are pretty intriguing.” 

Astarion gives you a smirk as you whip your head to face him giving him a look of ‘back off’, though he is hardly intimated by you. 

“Relax, I am not going to take a bite out of your favorite wizard. I will leave that pleasure for you, however some advice, you won’t get him from just staring.” 

You hate to admit it but Astarion might have a point, you have been wanting to confess your feelings you just don’t know how. Looking at Rolan you rake your mind with your past chances to open yourself up but always seem to back out at the last moment, his rejecting you would be painful but being in this limbo is excruciating. You have to get your feelings off your chest for some inner peace. 

“Okay, Astarion…what's your advice?”  

Astarion's smile spreads to his lips and he sits next to you quickly, “My suggestion is you make it your mission to get that Rolan in your sheets, my dear. You obviously have had trouble getting your…” Astarion grimaces “Feelings for him out, so why not go the seductive approach?” 

You let out a laugh but Astarion just keeps his face neutral, “You think, I should seduce him? How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Simple, give him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Yeah like what?” 

Astarion looks over at Rolan, seeming to think before his face lights up, he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder moving your chin to face Rolan. Then he whispers in your ear, “You're going to go over to him, very calmly…place your hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear very sweetly that you want to lick every ridge on his body.” 

Your mouth goes dry and eyes go wide at the thought…running your tongue…down…his… You blush feeling your face grow hot, so hot you think it could be radiating off you. 

“A-Astarion…I-I can’t do that…” 

“Oh, but picture it, once you're done he will be so spent he will be the one confessing to you.” 

An image of a panting Rolan looking down at you with a fist full of your hair sparks in your mind. Hells, maybe Astarion has a point…he has had plenty of experience seducing people, but you? The thought only makes it so you can’t even move. Astartion picks up on your dazed state and with a nudge he pops you from it. 

“Lucky for you there's a creature in here I have had my eyes on, so just watch and learn,” 

“Wait, you like someone?” You say it a bit shocked,

Astarion gives you a look, “Focus on your own love life, huh?” 

With that, you say quite as you watch Astarion's ruby eyes land on a particularly pretty patron. With a smirk, he grabs your goblet keeping his eyes fixed on them like a predator studying its prey. Quickly downing your drink he releases a cool and steady breath then makes his approach. He practically glides across the room to them, very carefully he starts the conversation with a smile and you can already tell the person is interested. Do they know each other?

In What seems like a quick second he is placing his hand on their shoulder and leaning down to their ear. You can only imagine what he must be saying to have their faces fluster so quickly. Nobody quite had a way with words like him. Astarion leans back up to meet their eyes where they are feverishly nodding. 

With that, he starts guiding them to the exit while turning back towards you to smirk. Well, looks like it's your turn…

Picking up your goblet you see he did finish it, okay next step. Standing you feel all the alcohol you consumed immediately go to your head, deep breath, then go. Making your way over you try to not stumble into people as you push to your destination. Keeping your eyes on Rolan you rehearse the lines in your head over and over, as you get closer. 

Rolan almost like he can sense it then flicks his eyes to you, watching as you approach. Swallowing to ease your dry throat as you continue to make your way over still keeping your nerves despite your stomach being in knots. Then his lips curl into a slight smile and you freeze…shit…looking down at your hands reality hits you suddenly, you're drunk and about to proposition him, you can’t do this…he is just going to dismiss you… the thought makes your chest ache and the feeling of your drink coming back up. 

Looking back at him he tilts his head looking at you concerned smile fading and that's when the fear of rejection rushes you. Opening your mouth you go to say anything, maybe smile at him something to mask your panic but it fails. Your lips tremble and before you know it you're rushing to the exit. 

Finding the exit you look back to Rolan, he’s up from his table and seems to be trying to make his way toward you, he looks completely confused and maybe…hurt. You can’t do this…not when you're drunk and on the verge of puking. 

With that, you're pushing out of the tavern and running off into the cool night of the city. As you're running past one of the city's allies you catch in your peripherals Astarion with that person pinned against the wall as he kisses against their neck leaving them moaning into his hand. You must have caught his attention from your running, he looks at your fleeing figure and calls out to you. 

“I guess it didn’t go well?” 

You don’t bother to give him a response, his advice might have worked for him but you're going to have to try a different tactic. 

Note to self, do not try to drunkenly ask out your crushes, it only ends in you making an ass out of yourself and puking up all your stomach contents. Thinking back on it you can only think back on the look on Rolan's face…the confusion…the disappointment…Maybe you should go talk to him? You don’t want him to think that you're trying to ignore him. You were drunk and didn’t want to spill your guts all over him. Feeling freshly invigorated you decide that you should apologize for running off. Who knows maybe the conversion could lead to something.   

Arriving at Sorcerous Sundries you're not even fully sure if he would even be there, the tower might have been the better bet. However, your guess is shown to be a good one when you see Rolan placing some tomes on the shelves. Gods, you could watch him work for hours…his dexterous hands placing everything so carefully. As you watch you think you almost see his tail wag before he’s fixing it down. The smile it causes to your face can’t be helped, though he is always so composed he still slips at times. 

As you watch Rolan work you have the oddest sensation come over you that you too are being watched. Turning your head you jerk back slightly in surprise seeing that Lae’zel’s yellow eyes are piercing into you with her trademark intensity. It’s quite odd that she is in here, she's not one for spells but as you're looking past her you see that Shadowheart is with her thumbing through a tome. That makes more sense, you're happy those two have become better friends. Especially since they did try and kill each other. 

Smiling you give Lae’zel a smile with a wave, she only narrows her eyes more at you as you move to go talk to Rolan. Approaching his tall figure you're taking in every inch of him. 

He's beautiful, from face to physique, you watch as the muscles from underneath his robes flex from his movements. It’s funny wizards are not known for their strong builds but Rolan's arms and back are a dead giveaway to his hidden strength. Looking up you trace down the length of his horns to where they disappear into his soft chestnut hair, twisted in that half-up style. You wonder if you two get closer in the way you hope he will let you play with his hair, it appears so tantalizing and soft…everything about him is tantalizing… 

In your approach your mind is running through a quick daydream of running your fingers along his horns and through his hair; it causes you not to pay attention to where you are stepping. With the perfect explanation for the night at Elfsong in your mind, you're ready to smooth things over with him. Just as you're reaching out you suddenly see Rolan's shoulders shoot up teasing like something just hit him. Confused you lean forward more but that's when you feel it, something is wiggling under your foot.  

Looking down you see that your boot is crushing his poor tail underneath your weight. Mortified, you quickly step off of it. Karlach had told you how sensitive her tail was when she yelped when someone sat on it, so having it crushed underneath a boot sure is not a great feeling. Rolan's back stays teased as he turns slowly, his tail swiftly moving away from you to go to his hands. His eyes look as if he could thunder wave you out of the building. 

“I-I am so sorry Rolan, I- I didn’t see your tail.” you ramble out as quickly as possible

“How do you not see the appendage handed down from my-!” Rolan stops his yelling and takes a breath, his hands tightening on his tail. There is now a mark from where you stepped and you feel even worse. 

“Here let me-” Reaching out for his tail you are quickly stopped by Rolan holding up his hand and shaking his head. Rolan tail in hands starts walking away mumbling a language you don’t know. 

“I’m sorry!” You call out to his fleeing figure as he ascends the stairs. 

Running your hands down your face, your intentions of apologizing to him for Elfsong completely disappear as you make yourself look like a complete ass again to him. Looking through your fingers you see that not only is Lae’zel still staring at you but now Shadowheart has joined her in watching your screw-up. You make your way over to them with your head down silently standing with them as Shadowheart keeps at her browsing. 

After a couple of moments, you see Rolan coming back down to the shop, his eyes meet yours. A part of you thinks you should go back over to him and apologize but you don’t want to annoy him further so you give him an apologetic wave. Rolan just huffs slightly with a nod before turning his back to you to get back to work. Leaning against the shelved wall you let out a long sigh.

“What am I going to do…”

“You mean about your crush on the new master of the tower?” 

You turn your head to stare at Shadowheart for her comment but she doesn’t even bother lifting her eyes away from the spines of the tomes. 

“How…what…” 

Lae’zel cuts in “Your lusting is obvious, sighing with your head in the sky with your pathetic pinning,” -wow ouch…   

A stray giggle leaves Shadowheart and you're quick to narrow your eyes at her as she bites her lip to silence herself. Crossing your arms you look back at Lae’zel 

“I am probably going to regret this, but Lae’zel what is your advice? How should I go about asking Rolan out then?”

The question is intriguing enough to make Shadowheart put her tome down and look at Lae’zel as well. Lae’zel rolls her eyes for a second before folding her arms and moving her fierce gaze to where Rolan is now helping out a customer. Lae’zel eyes narrow at him, sizing him up as she studies him before she turns back to you with a huff.

“I would not ask, I would grab that teeth-ling by the horns and command him to do as I say.”  The direct advice makes Shadowheart burst into laughter drawing attention from people near you, though you can’t seem to meet their eyes because you're too busy giving Lae’zel a confused look. 

“I don’t think that would work with him…” 

“Tis’k, you do not know this unless you try. Now go grab him by the tail and mount him forming a flesh bond with your desired.”  

You're staring at Lae’zel gobsmacked while Shadowheart practically rolls on the floor with laughter. 

“Lae’zel! I can’t just mount him!” you whisper yell at her. 

“I don’t know, she might have something to the direct approach” Shadowheart soothes

You glare at her “Oh you're done laughing on the floor?” She smirks with a shrug, absolutely no help. 

“Fine, I will gather him for you.” -what?

Lae’zel starts going towards Rolan but you are quick to grab her and drag her out. As the puzzled patrons watch you carry out the githyanki fighter cussing you in her native tongue with Shadowheart trailing behind you, smirk on her face. You try to rush out as quickly as you can mortified that Rolan might be seeing the display. 

Once outside you put her down with an apology, Shadowheart quickly places a hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder to prevent her from cutting off your head. “Why not try talking to the guys for advice? Maybe they can give you the male perspective on things.” Shadowheart offers. 

Thinking for a moment you find that she might have a point, it might help to ask the guys for some advice.

Piercing your lips you study the smiling wizard in front of you waiting for your question. 

“Actually Gale I don’t know if I should ask you for advice on this.” 

Gale's face changes from a smile into hurt then moves to irritation, “Wh- and why not?” he practically huffs. 

“Because the last time you tried to get a person to like you you ended up with a bomb in your chest.” 

“Magic orb…” he mutters while Wyll laughs, nearly choking on his wine. 

“Okay, Tav what advice are you needing? We can try our best to help aid you.” Wyll smooths out the tension of the room. 

“Well…the thing is I need some advice on asking someone out. I figured our most intelligent and most charismatic party members would have some great advice.” 

Wyll and Gale look at each other like they can detect each other's thoughts before they turn back to you “You're talking about asking out Rolan aren't you?” 

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the duo, “Who told you I was coming?” 

“Astarion and Shadowheart, they sang like canaries. Told us about your ...Mishaps” Gale says somewhat sing-songy. 

Sure he might have gotten a bomb in his chest but at least he got some for the goddess… And Wyll Mr. Prince Charming, half the girls in the city who were in love with him and his fancy footwork. Hopefully, they will have some good advice. You watch as the two men start pacing along rubbing their chins deep in thought. You appreciate they are taking this so seriously for your sake. 

“So have you at least tried? Asking him out? I know you two are pals but have you ever eluded to it.” 

You give Wyll an unamused look “Yeah I tried, but then something horrid goes wrong, I’m either stepping on his tail or about to puke.” 

Wyll nods trying to understand, “Maybe you could try to do an action, like an impromptu dance at the tavern between friends? The music is plentiful, and as you two sway along the music you can tell him with your eyes.” 

You watch as Wyll mimics the swaying of a dance keeping intense eye contact with you, but Gale comes behind him and places a hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Don’t think that will work with Rolan, he's….kinda dense…” 

Gale then lights up with the idea, “Why not ask him for some magic lessons? He can show you the ways of the weave and as you two flow through it, you can send him your thoughts.” 

You think for a moment, you have had him teach you magic before but…that was at the grove…and things were different. You hold that memory when he taught you his trick dear and you're about to agree to it. But you stop…if Rolan rejects you during that…it would ruin that spell for you forever…

“Yeah…he's a strict teacher…can we think of something else…Something that can explain how I feel but I don’t have to choke over the words too.” 

Gale and Wyll sit and think for a minute, then Wyll is snapping his fingers with an idea, “Why don’t you write him a letter!” 

You look at Wyll a bit skeptical, “A letter?” 

“Now that's the way to a wizard's heart, through the written word. Grand idea Wyll! Plus that helps with your shyness you can just hand him the letter! No conversion required!” Gale praises. 

You think for a moment, writing isn’t exactly your thing but it might be your only option left. Plus you're sure Gale and Wyll will help you through it! With a nod, you give them the okay and Gale is already conjuring up some paper and quill. They sit themselves on both sides of you and help you get through your thoughts. You thought it would be best to keep some more private feelings to yourself. They both seemed to be rather…really into letter writing, Gale helped fill the letter with praise of Rolan's grandeur with magic. While Wyll helps you spruce it up with flourishes about how your heart dances for him. It turned out a bit cheesy but Wyll and Gale seemed to have a good time. Maybe they should start a poetry club? 

Letter in hand you pace outside the shop, the letter was a great idea when Gale and Wyll were helping you write it but now… Now that you're here to give it to Rolan you're finding that familiar nervousness is eating away at you again. Peeking through the door you see that Rolan isn’t in the shop. It just seems to be his hologram today…Perfect! Now all you have to do is place it on the front desk for him to find later. That way if he isn’t into it you won’t have to meet his rejection immediately. The thought of Rolan looking at the letter and frowning pops into your mind, but you shake it off. Just place it down…easy…

“Tav! Hey!” 

Pausing you Turn around and see Karlach running towards you waving with a huge smile on her face. This is not good… It's not that you don’t want to see Karlach, she is amazing and you two have become incredibly close. The reason that this isn’t good is that Karlach isn’t exactly…subtle… Karlach is a complete badass but when it comes to love and romance she is a complete softie gushing about it to everyone. Wyll had told her about a crush of his one time and she had gushed about the story to anyone who would listen. It’s truly sweet that she loves love so much and gushes about her friends' conquest, but you're trying to be subtle here, placing the letter then leaving quickly, if Karlach finds out about it she's going to give you being here away.  

“Hello soldier, what are you doing loitering around Sundries? Waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no no…I just have this letter to give Rolan.” 

“Oh! What's it about?”  

“Just some questions about…spells…and curses…if he can detect the traces of the magical…What are you doing?” you quickly change the subject not being able to think of a good lie. 

“I was just at the Forge of the Nine catching up with Dammon, I had found some good iron ingots and wanted to give them to him, he could use them more than me anyways…” -oh Karlach you cutie

Karlach looks into sundries and appears to be looking around a bit, her smile slowly dies away before she turns back to you, “Well, I think you're out of luck soldier, Rolan doesn't seem to be around.”

You shrug trying to seem as unfazed as possible, “That's fine, I will just leave it on the front desk.”

“Or you could give it to-”

“No! No the desk will work, I mean…it’s important but he will find it.” you quickly interject. 

Karlach looks at you somewhat confused before she shrugs with a smile and follows you in. Finally, through the doorway, you quickly make your way to the desk and you feel…good! Finally one of your plans is going to work and you have Gales and Wyll's advice to thank! Maybe if this all goes well you will treat them to a drink at Elfsong. You will finally get your feelings off your chest, sure…it’s not exactly how you envisioned, but all the other attempts failed, this is easy and mess-free. 

Right as you reach the desk, something tells you to look up. Looking up you see Rolan descending the stairs wrapped up in whatever tome he is reading. He hasn’t seemed to notice you however so maybe you can just drop the letter and run-

“Hey Rolan! What udder luck, Tav has a letter for you!” -shit

Rolan looks away from his tome, eyes seeming to widen when he sees you and Karlach. You feel all the blood rush to your face as his eyes meet yours, you can’t quite tell if he is pleased to see you or not, kinda of appears to be…annoyed…or surprised? Damn that handsome studious face! 

Your hands tighten on the letter, you go to quickly place it on the desk and rush out but in the blink of an eye, the letter is out of your hand. Instead of it being in your hand or on the desk it's in Karlach’s hand as she is going towards the stairs…to Rolan…going to hand it to him! Oh, hells!

Rushing over to her you quickly snatch the letter from her hand. Karlach seems taken aback by your action, “Hey? What the fuck?” 

Karlach tries to take the letter back after you rudely snatched it. “Tav isn’t this for him?” 

“Uh…Yeah, but I changed my mind…”

“Changed your mind? But you said it was important?” 

Karlach goes to take the letter from you again but this time it is not so easy to take from your hand. Now in the middle of Sundries, you and Karlach are having a tug of war over a letter while Rolan looks at you two trying to piece together what is going on. With some quick moves on your part, you're able to shoulder check Karlach, not knocking her over by any means but just enough to cause her to loosen her hold slightly. 

Feeling successful you smile to yourself that you were able to get it back, but when you look back at Karlach your smile fades. Her eyes are narrowed and you see the hints of flames starting to spark around her, she looks pissed and you are about to get it. Looking up you see Rolan at the bottom of the stairs approaching you with a very irritated look, it makes sense you did have a fight in the middle of his shop. 

Shoving the letter down your pocket you do the thing that you only seem to know how to do nowadays, run. 

“Ohhhh…..so you wrote him a love letter….” 

“Yeah…I wanted to just leave it on his desk but…that didn’t work out….” 

You and Karlach sit on the stone wall looking out into the city watching the sunset. Of course, when you ran off she chased you down and demanded an explanation. You gave your explanation and that's how you are here now pouring your heart out to her. 

“Tav, I think you're going about this all wrong.”

“Oh? How do you figure?” 

“Well sure everyone giving their advice is nice but…I think you should just do what feels right to you. Instead of worrying about what he will say just…just stop being so scared and talk to him. Be honest. All these games, and trying to be sneaky isn’t how to do it. ” 

You take in her words for a moment before you speak, “So…you're telling me Lae’zel had the best advice? Being direct?” 

Karlach laughs “What I am saying is stop being so in your head Tav. Instead of talking to everyone else about this, just go talk to him. I promise it will be best that way.” 

“When should I do it?” 

Karlach hums then shrugs “Fuck if I know. Maybe it will just hit you.”

A smile spreads to your lips and you nod your head “Thanks Karlach, that...that's some really good advice…” 

Karlach smacks your back, basically knocking the air out of you. “Don’t worry I am here for all your relationship advice needs!” 

“So, how's Dammon?” you say coyly

“Oh don’t even start.” 

Laying in bed you think about all the advice your friends gave you and how all the advice had turned out. Why does this have to be so hard….

Looking outside you see how late it is, people all around are either asleep or going home to rest but as you lay you listen to the stillness of the city. Then your thoughts go back to Rolan. How you ache to be held in his arms…to get to look into those golden eyes on a dark still night like this. To talk to him about everything and nothing as his fingers gently caress your skin. You know you would so easily melt under his touch. How it would comfort you, how you want to comfort him. 

Rising from your warm bed you go to look out into the night of the city. With a click, you open the window and are met with the shivering cold of the night. A chill runs through you as you lean out and admire the star-dusted sky. For some reason, your thoughts go back to the night of the grove celebration. Rolan was being teased by his siblings as he focused on his fireworks show. They didn’t seem to be impressed but you clapped for him, before he gave some response about adoring fans there was a moment in his dark eyes where those golden fires shined just for you. That's when the glittering flickers within you started to storm. At the time you thought it was maybe residue from the magic, but now you know better. 

Holding your hands out into the still night you mimic the moves that Rolan taught you after a few goblets of wine after he got more comfortable around you or maybe just got tired of your begging. As you gesture you feel the fluttering of magic down your arms to your hands, motioning your arms up you release the spell. You used to call it just simple fireworks. Though after that night it now has a new name for both of you; Rolan’s Fire

“What are you calling it?” 

“Rolan’s Fire. You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.” 

The bursting lights grow in a flash then dim in a beautiful marriott of colors and white light. The elegance of the spell always fit him and it never failed to fill you with warmth, but now you still feel the bite of the cold despite how many memories of him you conger or how many times you spill the lights from your hands. 

“Just talk to him…” Karlach's words echo in your mind. Of course, it’s that simple, but would it be enough? Could you even be able to articulate how he sends sparks through you? Would he want you to? Or would he want something different…Clenching your fist hard, your mind running rampant with thoughts, with advice, with what you should do. Then finally you come to your decision. 

The cold air stings your face as you run down the dark streets. With every step, your mind screams how this is crazy but your heart urges your tired feet forward. Running as fast as your legs can take you, the city and the few late-night pedestrians blur beside you as your eyes keep forward to one goal. Ramazith’s Tower. 

Running up to the tower you don’t even give yourself a minute to catch your breath before banging on the doors with all your might. You know you won’t be able to rest until you finally settle this with him. Rolan needs to know, you need to know so you can function again. The pinning of your heart has thoroughly consumed you, it’s time. If only this damn door would open! 

The frustration you feel gets released as you beat against the door, 

“Stop beating against that damn door!” 

The voice sounds rough with sleep but still has that formal tone you have grown to listen for, to adore…

The door swinging open you immediately feel those sparks. His hair, usually tied back so precisely is knotted back in a messy rush, he looks surprised to see you. His handsome face contorted to scrunch in confusion at your slummed body still trying to catch your breath. Staring at him in this state is not helping you catch your breath in the slightest. 

Rolan's chest, usually concealed underneath his robes, is now exposed showing off his toned chest covered in those defining ridges that decorate his red skin. Unable to help yourself, your eyes follow the trail of his ridges to his abs then the simple trousers that are keeping the rest of him from you. 

“Tav?” his voice is laced with concern before it's going back to his usual irritated one. “What are you doing here? Going to act like a lunatic then run off again?” Rolan steps closer “What's been going on with you? I thought we were friends and you keep avoiding me! So what is it now that is so damned impor-”

“Rolan, how do I ask you out?” you interrupt while still trying to catch your breath. 

“Wh-What?” Rolan's dark eyes are wide, any trace of sleep has been knocked out of him by your question. 

Pushing past him you walk into the tower. The tower has usually been lit up when you have seen it before, but now it's dark and intimidating. Turning to look at Rolan he still has that shocked look on his face. You know your question is sudden, but you couldn’t think of anything else. Nervously you begin rambling. 

“Look, I know it’s a sudden question but I don’t know what else to do. I have asked everyone for advice, and I just can’t seem to do any of it right. So might as well just ask the source right? Because all the stuff I have tried I choke, or Im making a complete ass out of myself. So please, just tell me…so I can do it and get this…nonning ache out! I know the reject-” 

During your pacing rant, you feel hands cupping your face gently, slowly they raise your head to have you meet his golden eyes. All the words die off in your throat, Rolan’s is staring at you so intensely. With him so close you take in the details of his horns, the freckles peppering his red skin. The feeling of his hands warming your skin, you want to stay like this forever but you just wish you knew what he was thinking. 

“Rolan I-” 

“Quiet.” 

Rolan’s command instantly silences you. The sparks you have been feeling are erupting into a storm of excitement that rushes through you. His thumbs carefully brush against your skin only making you lean in closer. Rolons eyes glow in the darkness, you want to tell him how they set you on fire but right as you're parting your lips Rolan dips down and presses his mouth to yours. His soft lips make all your thoughts melt away. The thundering sparks are bursting into a warmth throughout your body. Rolan’s Fire…

Slowly as he keeps guiding your lips with a growing intensity, then carefully you feel your body being guided back. Once you feel your back meet the wall you break the kiss with a gasp, but it's only a quick second before his lips are pressing to yours once more. Rolan's hands slide down from your jaw to your hips bringing them closer to press against himself. A soft moan leaves your chest when you feel the hardness of his arousal straining against you. 

Rolan slips his tongue between your lips to taste you, the deepening of the kiss causes you to tighten your thighs feeling yourself getting wetter with each pass of his tongue. Your hands find a place on the hard ridges on his warm chest, as you trace over them slowly you feel him groan into the kiss. Then Rolan breaks the and his warm breath fans over your ear as he speaks.

“Ask me now.”

The words barely register in your foggy mind as you feel Rolan slipping his hands underneath your shirt. 

“What?” You can hardly manage the word, your shaky breath makes Rolan lean into your neck with a smile and a kiss, slowly he drags his soft lips against your skin sending shivers of excitement through you. Then his voice is back in your ear purring his words to you. 

“Ask me out again…tell me what you want…please…I need to hear it.” 

The hands underneath your shirt find your breasts and crease them as you stumble a moan trying to find your words. 

“Rolan…” 

“Yes?”, he whispers as he strips your shirt from you. His eyes roam over all your curves before he leans into your exposed chest, palming and lightly teasing at your sensitive skin. 

“I want you in every way possible…I..want you,” you practically cry as you feel him move from your chest to sink lower, sliding his lips against your stomach. Once reaching the hem of your pants he tugs down your pants, rolling your pants and underwear down carefully exposing your wet sex.  

Kneeling now you feel his lips press against your hips causing you to arch them forward. Shaky hands slide up the back of your thighs, suddenly you feel one of your legs being lifted to hook over his shoulder. Heart beating out of your chest you look down to see his eyes are already on you as he waits patiently on one knee. His eyes are completely blown with desire and you can feel the anticipation in his shaking touch as he rubs his hand on the outside of your thigh. 

“Go out with me?” you ask desperately. 

“Gods yes,” he groans before pressing his face into your folds, his hot tongue quickly finds your clit nudging and licking against the bundle making you throw your head back in a sharp gasp. 

Rolan being a quick learner latches onto your swollen bundle, sucking and twirling his tongue against it. The sudden stimulation has a moan escaping you then quickly your hand comes down to grasp one of his horns, holding on desperately as you watch him ravishingly pleasure you. 

Rolan's eyes widen then roll back as your grip gets tighter on his horn. The groan he releases from the sensation vibrates through you, tightening the coil in your stomach. The slick from your quivering slit is rolling down his chin. Moving slightly he laps his tongue to taste more, Adjusting so his perfect nose is rubbing against your clit. His tongue breaching your insides makes you grab both horns as you pull him in closer. You moan his name like a prayer as you ride against his face. 

The more you tug on his horns the more he groans, he can't help but grasp hard on your behind making you whine more as his nails dig into you. Your stomach starts to suddenly tighten more as his velvet tongue finds the sweet stop within you. 

“There! Fuck there! D-Don't, Ah!” you push your hips off the wall but he's quickly pushing them back against it to keep you still.  

Keeping his eyes on you, he watches as the hot wave of pleasure rushes through you. Clasping your hand over your mouth you moan and shake as your orgasm hits. Rolan eagerly licks and sucks up your release as you ride out your high. 

Finally coming down from it Rolan starts to move away from your spent cunt, though before he's moved away completely he gives a quick nip to your clit making you let out a sharp whine. 

Body feeling feverish you lean and brace yourself against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily. Rolan rises from his kneel and you watch in awe as a mix of your arousal and his spit glistens against his perfect face. He brings his hand to wipe his face, his eyes flicking down at you as he smiles then licks up the residue from his fingers. 

“Meet me at Elfsong tomorrow night?” 

Stars in your eyes you nod absentmindedly at him, “Yes…” 

Gods you can’t wait for tomorrow…

[stayxstraykidss]

He is like a cat born in a sopping wet cardboard box all alone </333

[stayxstraykidss]

Could I request a Rolan little one-shot where he realizes he has feelings for Tav/reader (your choice!) like hits him like a freight train kind of realization?

Thank you for the request! I bestow upon you my holiday tidings with a gift I hope you enjoy hehe

Thank You (Rolan x GN Tav)

He didn't think it possible, and yet… Here he was. A well known, well respected Master of Magic, thriving in the city of Baldur's Gate. Successful, secure, and safe. Surrounded by family and friends alike. It truly is nothing short of a miracle. To think 6 short months ago, he would have been ignorant enough to have thrown everything away all for a huff of Lorroakan's dust.

Rolan chuckled to himself. Were the bastard still alive, he couldn't hold a candle to him now. He stood proud atop the balcony of Sorcerous Sundries, watching patrons and practitioners peruse the enchanted wares. Now more than ever, business was booming. With the help of fellow magic adept Gale of Waterdeep and Tav - the very Hero of Baldur's Gate themselves - they had managed to uncover quite the trove of hidden knowledge within the depths of Ramazith's Tower. After setting aside what they together deemed too dangerous for public exposure, they gathered the remainder of the collection to add to the Sundries shelves.

Were it too bold to believe this would usher in a new era of magic for the common mage? Rolan had been juggling the thought. After everything he'd gone through - everything Tav had done for him - he had been trying to catch himself in moments like these. Reminding himself to remain humble. He was a proud man, why shouldn't he be? This was something to be proud of! But he knew all too well how easily pride devolved into arrogance, and arrogance to hubris. And he didn't achieve any of this alone. Were it not for that queer collection of intrepid adventures, he would still be under Lorroakan's thumb. Still the punching bag of a cruel and selfish Master.

His grip tightened on the banister before him, until he heard the familiar woosh of a transportation portal activating nearby. Soon followed by the unlatching of the locked metal doors, and the spilling of said adventurers from the upstairs offices. Hands full of tomes and scrolls and bits and bobbles collected from within the tower chambers.

"Don't mind us!" Gale stated once he caught Rolan staring, his chin just barely peaking over the stack of supplies in his arms, "Just one last restock of the shelves below to keep this fortuitous business of yours flourishing and we'll be back on our way!" Nearly tripping over himself in the process, he managed to make it down to the ground floor of the establishment without any disastrous spills occurring.

Cal and Lia came shuffling through the doors next, bickering with themselves, significantly more manageable amounts of potions and alchemical ingredients in their own arms to add to the storefront collection.

Tav came from the small room last, a bundle of wands and staffs strapped to their back. After turning to lock the office door behind them, they caught Rolan's eyes with a smile. Joining him by the terrace edge, they too overlooked the bustling crowd below.

"Pretty remarkable what you've managed to do with this place," they commented. Rolan smiled and shook his head.

"What I've managed-?" He scoffed, "I don't think any if this was independently my doing. But... Thank you," he replied, still watching the patrons beneath them.

Tav nodded, smiling once more before stepping away. They had barely made it three steps down before Rolan called after them.

"Actually-!" His voice caught as Tav turned back and looked up at him. Rolan bit his lip in thought, tilting his head as to motion for Tav to return. They made their way back by his side, and he shifted to look at them.

"Actually, Tav… I don't think I've ever thanked you. Properly, thanked you."

Tav smiled, friendly and goofy, "Actually, Rolan, you have thanked me before. Quite a number of times," to that, Rolan smiled sheepishly.

"Sure, sure. I've thanked you for saving my and my family's lives a dozen times. I've thanked you for saving the city. But I don't think I've ever thanked you for… well, This," he gestured back out towards the bustling business.

Tav looked out, smiling once more in sincerity. Taking a deep breath in, they turned to Rolan again, "I would say 'you're welcome', but I'm not sure why I'd have anything to do with your trade being a success. You're the wizard here, not me," they nudged at the staffs on their back, "If anything, I'm your glorified errand-boy. Thank me by giving me a pay raise," they joked.

Rolan laughed, "You're much more to me than an errand-boy, Tav. You know this."

He looked them in the eyes again. For a moment, he felt as if he were seeing them for the first time.

The events of the Absolute incursion took their toll on everyone in Baldur's Gate - in Faerûn as a whole. But Tav was at the center. Rolan wasn't sure he'd ever see a day when they managed to drop their seemingly perpetual state of being Battle Ready. But in this moment, they seemed so relaxed.

Their hair was down, their clothes were loose and comfortable. Save for a small dagger on their belt, they carried no weapons. And more than anything, Rolan could feel the energy around them was… Calm.

Tav wasn't much for magic. They knew a few handy cantrips, but they were no seasoned spell-slinger. Perhaps it was simply Rolan's attunement with the Weave itself, but he always felt the energy surrounding Tav was… Bristling. Like a consistent build up of static shock one bad touch from being released. However, before him, in this moment, Tav was calm as the Gray Harbor at the break of dawn.

"Uhm…" Tav cleared their throat, breaking the silence Rolan hadn't even registered was building between them. Snapping back into reality, he noticed his skin was warm. Palms clammy and fingers tingling, "I'm going to put the supplies up. Maybe once things settle for the evening, we can discuss my salary over a pint," they joked, winking as they turned to descend the stairs once more.

Rolan watched them go, blinking as their words caught up with him, "Ah, u-um, yes! Let's do that!" He called out, likely not even loud enough to be heard over the crowds.

His heart was racing. Why was his heart racing? Why was he watching them maneuver the crowds, assisting guests as they unloaded supplies? Why was he so enraptured as loose hairs fell into their face, and they ran their fingers through the wisps that framed their travel worn features? Gods, why was he noticing their travel worn features?!

Rolan swallowed deep, though his throat was dry. Tav was indeed so much more than an errand-boy.

And oh, how his cheeks burned as he realized… He may have incidentally agreed to a date with them. Tonight.

[stayxstraykidss]

a thousand kisses buys my heart from me; and pay them at thy leisure, one by one. ♡

[stayxstraykidss]

Hurtful Words

Pairing: Astarion/AFAB!Reader

Mentioned Background Tadpolycule

Summary: In the months since Astarion left you, furious for refusing to help him ascend, you've tried to put your life back together the best you can. Your heart is broken, but you try to manage.

Astarion, meanwhile, stalks the streets by nightfall, hoping to find you again.

Warnings: Mild Smut 18+ content, hurt/comfort, break-ups, Astarion being bad at feelings (full list of tags on AO3)

A/N: You guys voted, and wanted to see the feely, hurt/comfort fic first, so here it is! It's been a while since I wrote this type of fic, so I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Word Count: 6885

AO3

"I'm done with this, and I'm done with you. I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming."

It had been months since you'd thwarted the Absolute, become the Heroes of Baldur's Gate, and yet, his words never left you. How his eyes that once held so much love for you were filled with a burning hatred, all because you refused to help him give up his soul for some foul, demonic power.

The others had given you space when you returned to camp. Astarion's tent was left untouched, clearly, he hadn't come back for any of his things. You weren't sure he even would.

Wyll and Karlach, sweethearts that they were, carefully kept prying if you really were as alright as you tried to make it seem. You weren't, of course, but their questioning soon became exhausting.

"Astarion wasn't the first person to love me," you had said, voice sure and steady. "And he won't be the last. I am in pain, for now, but it'll fade. We have more pressing matters right now, I'm afraid."

And you did. The tadpoles in your heads were still the greater threat - you couldn't waste any time crying over a breakup, no matter how much it hurt. You needed to get over it, and quickly, else you wouldn't be able to focus on the various crises at hand.

Some part of you was angry at him, too. You hoped it would make all of this easier.

So, the next morning, when you saw that Astarion's tent was still standing, undisturbed, you made a decision. You collected everything you owned that he had once given you, things that connected you to him. A shirt of his you liked to steal. A necklace he had pickpocketed for you. A blouse he loved seeing you in.

The ring you found in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, the one that matched with his.

You left those objects in his tent, scribbled a note to go along with it. If he decided to come back for his things, he'd find them - and if not, some other person may benefit from finding this. It felt like leaving a part of yourself behind - the part that loved him - to try and look forward instead.

With that, you told the others to pack up and move your camp.

You didn't know where Astarion ended up after the whole mess at Cazador's palace. You didn't dare to try and reach out to his tadpole, either. Your heart had clenched painfully as you watched the sun after you'd defeated the Elder Brain - you hoped Astarion could find shelter quickly enough.

But, that had been months ago. What was left of your group split up. You stayed in Baldur's Gate, having asked to be gifted a permanent home as thanks for saving the city.

You live alone, now. Sending stones connect you to the others, or they come to visit you. Scratch and the Owlbear keep you company, make your house feel more lively. You take odd jobs and occasionally help Rolan out at Sorcerous Sundries.

Hells, even Dalyria, Astarion's 'sister', sometimes comes by to check in on you. She's surprisingly pleasant company, and you can tell she's worried that you and her 'brother' are no longer involved. She tries to keep an eye out for him, but unlike the other spawn, Astarion never came to the Underdark. You usually talk research with her - enchanted things are just things with spells on them, so if the Ring of the Sunwalker exists, surely, there must be a way to replicate it.

Your life is quite mundane now. Sometimes you toy with the idea to follow Wyll and Karlach to Avernus, or to help the spawn settle in the Underdark. It was the one victory you had from that day, that you managed to wrench control from Astarion long enough to set the poor wretches in Cazador's dungeon free. You knew that, given how spiteful he could be, he would have let them rot forever after you refused to help him ascend.

On some evenings, you head out to the Elfsong Tavern for a drink. Sometimes, you even take someone home, but nobody ever sticks. You're not quite ready for something new yet. Not when your breakup with Astarion was so desastrous, and not now, when all your other lovers were scattered in the wind.

But, your life is okay. You're not starving, nor are you homeless, your fluffy companions are there to fill the void, and that is just enough for you.

____________

Astarion had been furious after what had transpired in Cazador's lair. He felt betrayed by you, of all people, and then, you had the gall to release the spawn when you had denied him his freedom.

He'd had no plans to return to your camp. He stalked taverns and brothels, indulging in his worst impulses now that he could chose to do so. It was the least he would do after you had refused him his ascension.

But reality kicked in as soon as the Elder Brain was disposed off. Astarion felt his skin burn to ashes in the sun and fled into the shadows, and as he cowered under whatever flimsy shelter he could find, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes at being condemned to the dark, again, he wished for nothing but your comfort. If you had been there, you'd have comforted him, soothed him, kept him safe from the sunlight.

He missed you. He missed you terribly.

Once night fell, he scrambled back to camp. It had only been a few days, surely, you would still be there.

His heart had shattered to pieces when he found his tent to be the only one left standing at camp, a hollow feeling settling in his stomach. Judging from the footprints around, you all must've left shortly after his outburst.

Astarion had resigned himself to simply collect his remaining things and start planning what to do with his new unlife. But then, he'd found the things you'd left for him, and the note.

Good luck on your new path, Little Star. Don't stray too far from the light, despite everything. I love you.

Even after everything, your final words of farewell were words of love, of affection. He'd expected anything else, something telling him that you hoped he'd burn in the sun, that some hunter would come and stake him. But no, even after he had wished violent death upon you, all you had for him was love.

Gods, what had he done?!

Astarion had sobbed into the note, into your blouse, until his voice turned hoarse, at the realization that you were well and truly <i>gone</i>. You had disappeared from his life, and he had no one else to blame but himself.

Seeing your ring had torn him apart once more. He remembered how you'd cheekily given him his ring, after you'd slipped on yours.

"There. Now you can keep me safe, too!"

Your smile had been infectious, even he couldn't resist joining in, no matter how much he wanted to comment on how cringeworthy matching warding rings were. But it also made his heart soar, knowing you were so willing to publically display that he was yours, and you were his.

He'd wished for nothing else, then, but to have you there, so he could return your ring to you.

Nowadays, Astarion is back to stalking the streets like a ghost. He has no proper home to speak of - Cazador's palace isn't an option, the other spawn would surely spurn him after his actions at the ritual, and unlike you, he wasn't a hero with gifts to reward him with.

He hasn't dared to try and reach out to any of your other companions. To be fair, he has no idea where everyone ended up. Astarion knows he'd easily find Gale if he travelled to Waterdeep - but the idea of coming crawling to Gale, of all people, makes him sick.

He never thought he'd be reduced to this again. Seducing people just to get a quick meal in. Getting on his back for breadcrumbs, once more. With you, he had painted a brighter future, the two of you often daydreaming about what you wanted to do once your tadpole problem had been resolved. You had thought up the most delightful things, thinking he could become a perfumer, or even a tailor, should you save up enough for a small shop. You would travel together to source the rarest ingredients or most exquisite fabrics, while you would brew alchemic concoctions or enchant objects for sale. You saw endless potential in him, while all he could dream of was having power. He never realized until now how little you actually cared for power. You wanted to be happy, and you wanted to share life's joys with him.

Even at the ritual, you had tried to see the best in him, had tried seeing everything he could be, but refused to see. He had thrown it away, your hope, your belief in him, and your love for him.

Astarion cowers in the shadows, once more, an ache in his undead heart he isn't sure will ever be soothed.

___________

It's Dalyria who tells him that you're still in town, and that you haven't run off with one of the others.

Astarion bumps into his sister one night while he's out on a hunt. Dalyria is just on her way back to the Underdark after having stayed with you for a couple of days. Their sibling reunion isn't the most euphoric, but Astarion is glad it's Dal he runs into instead of one of the others.

What nearly knocks him off his feet is that he can pick up your scent sticking to her. He immediately questions her on it - why the hells does she smell like you?

Dalyria would rather spare you from him. She'd heard the hurtful words he flung at you, and while you put on a brave face, she can tell you're still heartbroken over him. She can see it anytime you look at her. You very obviously associate her with Astarion, and though you value the friendship you have built, Dalyria clearly is a painful reminder of your lost love.

She leaves Astarion with nothing more than the information that you are still in the city. He wishes he could pry more out of her, but without the tadpole, she and him are evenly matched in power. He also knows that Dalyria will now likely lay low and not go to see you - she knows too well that Astarion would try and follow her.

Baldur's Gate is large, but he knows the city like the back of his hand. And if there's one thing Astarion has in abundance, then it's time. He'll find you.

He'll find you, and get you back.

___________

Find you he does.

Astarion sneaks into Sorcerous Sundries one day, in hopes of maybe finding a tracking spell he could use in his search for you. What he doesn't expect is to see you standing by the counter, arraging your alchemic concoctions neatly on a sales display, while you make idle chat with Rolan.

Astarion has to bite back a snarl. You seem chipper and happy in Rolan's presence. He also knows you're attracted to the tiefling - the two of you had taken Rolan with you for a fun little evening at the Last Light Inn, so many moons ago.

Are you his, now?

Thankfully, it doesn't seem this way. You are naturally flirty, in a way that doesn't always mean anything more serious. Astarion knows you love making people blush, so he files this away as you having a bit of fun with Rolan, nothing more, eventhough he seethes at how easily you fluster the haughty wizard with your sweet words.

Astarion sneakily follows you home. He's glad to see both Scratch and the Owlbear in your home - at least the little snacks have a safe place to stay, and they keep you company. They keep you safe. No burglar would dare enter a home guarded by a dog and an owlbear.

He doesn't approach you yet. He needs to plan this, think about what to do. What to say. A simple 'hello, again' would not suffice.

So, Astarion lays low, and stalks you the next few days. He's sure he must looks suspicious, covered during the daytime in such a thick cloak, but he doesn't care. He needs to know more about you, the city you, and the life you lead.

You don't do much, really.

At the beginning of a week, you head to Sorcerous Sundries to supply Rolan with new stock and collect payment for the sales made the previous week. Other than that, you take Scratch and the Owlbear on walks, and stay cooped up in your laboratory.

It is the evenings, when Astarion can be more active himself, that you actually do something other than your daily grind.

You head to taverns. Your favourite seems to be the Elfsong - you sit at the same table you used to sit with him at back in the day. You chat up other patrons, and let yourself be chatted up. There's no particular pattern to your partners, and you don't always leave with someone. Sometimes you just sit, and drink. Othertimes, Rolan, or any of the other tiefling refugees join you. Cal and Lia come by to try and lift your spirits. Dammon always seems ready for a long night of deep conversation.

Astarion watches you for a good few weeks. He toys with the note you left him - he's so close to you, now, he just needs to make a move. It needs to be one of the days when you're only in a drinking mood, but early enough in the evening that you're not drunk yet.

He makes his move on a night after you've had a goblet of wine. You'd actually brought a book with you, hoping to relax as Alfira is the bard performing tonight. Astarion glides through the movement in the tavern effortlessly, and sits down across from you.

"Could I buy you another drink?"

His voice is smooth as ever, trying his best to charm you.

You look up from your book. First, you look surprised, shocked, to see him. Then you seem as if you want to say something, but you swallow the words in favor of snapping your book shut and giving him a smile - though Astarion can tell you're anything but happy.

"I think not," you say, watching as he visibly deflates at your rejection. "I think I might have already overindulged, tonight. I may be hallucinating - you look like someone I once knew."

Ah, so it is to be a game. No matter, Astarion knows how to play along just fine.

"Oh? And is that someone a friend, or a foe?"

Pain flashes through your expression, gone as quickly as it came.

"I'm not sure anymore. Once, he was my dearest friend, the person first in my heart. Then, he told me he hoped I died screaming, and abandoned me." You toy with the rim of you goblet. Perhaps you did need another drink. "I'm not sure what exactly that makes us."

You take it as a victory that Astarion immediately looks remorseful. Some part of you wants to hurt him back, but what would be the point of that. It's only give you temporary satisfaction and lead nowhere else.

"Perhaps your friend was not in a right state of mind when he said those things," he reasons, a strained look on his face. "If you were to meet your friend again, it might be possible that he would want to apologise."

"Really? Aren't you an optimistic one. I'm not too sure about that. Apologising never was his strong suit. He'd rather lash out."

You can barely hide your scoff, and Astarion feels as if he's been stabbed. Perhaps Dalyria had been right in trying to keep him away from you. He never considered if you even wanted to see him.

He, once again, did not consider what you might want.

You sigh heavily. "Take me home, will you? Though I'd love to hear Alfira play tonight, I doubt I'll actually get much listening done."

Astarion stares after you as you get up out of your seat and make your way to the exit. He follows swiftly.

"How would I even know where you live?" He asks incredulously once you're both outside.

You don't bother turning to face him. "Really? You expect me to believe you just 'happened' to bump into me tonight? I'm not stupid. Knowing you, you've been stalking me for weeks."

"I did not!" Astarion protests. "This was pure coincidence, honestly!"

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you rest easier at daylight." You shake your head. "Now, are you going to walk me home? I demand an arm to hold from such a dashing stranger."

Of course, he offers you his arm. And of course, he's already memorised every single way to get to your house. You don't mention it again, knowing full well that your darling vampire has a tendency to be an absolute creep.

Scratch and the Owlbear are happy to see you back home, but are overjoyed to see Astarion again. They circle around his legs, tackle him clean over, yipping and hooting euphorically as he struggles to give out an appropriate amount of pets to them both. You busy yourself hanging up your cloak, smiling at the display.

Both of your fluffy friends had been asking where your 'fanged friend' had went. You never had a good answer for them.

Once Astarion manages to wrangle both of your pets, he follows you to your dining table. You've set out glasses and two pitchers each, and motion for him to sit down. You are clearly drinking more wine. Astarion sniffs at his glass once he fills it, and his brows knit together in confusion. It's pig's blood, seemingly still fresh and warm.

"Your sister Dalyria comes by sometimes," you explain. "I've perfected the art of preserving and re-heating blood by now. I always keep some on hand for her."

"That's...very kind of you," Astarion says, unsure how to respond. "How often is she here? How did that even happen?"

"She thought I was good for you, and disliked the way our relationship...ended. She sought me out a couple of weeks after I settled in here to check on me - you vampires can easily sniff out a person. We usually chat about whatever research projects we've got going on." You take a sip of your wine. Maybe this whole conversation is more bearable if you get drunk. "Dal's become a good friend. She usually stays a couple of days, and we bounce ideas off of each other. I like her."

That causes Astarion to bristle. Was he really that easily replaced? By his own sister-spawn, at that?

"How much do you like her?" He asks, trying to keep his voice sounding casual.

He fails. Your eyes immedately harden into a glare.

"You are in no position to play the jealous one after what you said to me," you spit, rage bubbling up inside you. "But if it soothes your sick little mind - no, I am not fucking your sister, and she isn't feeding on me, either."

Astarion flinches at your tone. He's seen you angry before, but never has your anger been directed at him. It feels awful. He hates it.

"What are you two researching, then?" He diverts. Yes, keeping it casual was a good idea. Maybe you would soften up the more you spoke.

"Dal's still looking for a cure to vampirism. I'm looking into a way to get spawn to walk in sunlight. It would give them all a brief respite from the Underdark." You don't mind answering. You like talking about your work. You're also in constant contact with both Gale and Rolan about all of this - more brains to think with, so to speak. "Dal and I are also thinking to try and restore the Arcane Tower down there. I kind of miss the Myconids, and the equipment there was top-notch. It would provide both of us with a sharable workspace. Rolan could benefit from the resources there, too. Overall, getting it back up and running would just be beneficial, and if we find a way to reprogram the robots, they could help the spawn in building their village."

"So, you're moving to the Underdark, then?" Astarion worries. He's just found you again - he can't have you running off right away.

"Not immediately, and not permanently," you assure him. "Setting up portals between here and there is an easy matter. I'd move from time to time. But enough about me. I believe you have something to say?"

Astarion becomes indignant. He hates being cornered, and you are doing just that.

"You aren't going to apologise for anything?"

"Me? I don't think I have anything to apologise for," you scoff. "I have no regrets. If I had to do everything all over again, I would change nothing. There is not a world in which I would've helped you ascend, not a universe in which I would've let you sell your soul for the ascension. If losing you is the price I have to pay for ensuring you don't commit a vile act of mass-murder, then so be it. I will not apologise for that."

You can see he hates how sure of yourself you are. He wishes you felt any amount of guilt for having refused him, but - breakup aside - your conscience is clear.

"You've gotten over me quickly," he grumbles.

"I haven't. But I'll happily tell you what I told the others." You pin him with your gaze again, looking him right in the eye to make sure he properly hears you. "You were not the first person to love me, and the way I saw it, you wouldn't be the last. And to be fair - would <i>you</i> wish to continue to be with someone who said they hoped you died screaming?"

No. No, he would not. You have no reason to hear him out, let alone take him back. What he said to you was vile, hurtful, and wholly undeserved. He knows that himself.

"So. I have nothing to apologise for," you say again. "Would you do everything the same way again, knowing the outcome? Because if you would, then you don't have anything to apologise for either, and we can end this conversation here. Both of us should move on with our lives, in that case."

Astarion doesn't want to move on. He wants you back. He wants to bask in your light again, share your joy with his own.

"You never were so harsh with me," he finds himself saying.

"My patience has its limits," you reply. "I know you've a lot of growing to do, so I've always tried to be more lenient with you."

Your eyes harden into a glare, turning glossy as tears are slowly burning at their edges. Astarion doesn't want you to cry. He doesn't think he can take it.

"But after everything we'd gone through, how much time we shared, the fact that you would say something like that to me..." You shake your head in irritation. "It helped mask the pain, really. I was furious."

The tears start spilling down your cheeks. You wipe them away angrily. You'd thought about it, of course, what you'd do if you ever saw Astarion again. You would slap him, at the very least. Maybe turn him into a sheep. Cast the Daylight spell on him if he was especially vile to you again. You never wanted to cry. He did not deserve your tears, not after that.

"You once promised you would never hurt me - on purpose, at the very least. I was foolish enough to believe you."

Scratch and the Owlbear sense your distress. Scratch comes to sit beside you, resting his snout on your thigh, nudging you, as if to encourage you to pet him. The Owlbear settles in behind you, hooting at you as a mother owlbear would at her cub. You weave your hand into the soft fur of Scratch's head, and the dog whines.

It's a small victory to you that Astarion looks at you with regret. Even his ears have drooped, and he seems defeated.

"Did you ever cry for me?" He asks carefully.

"No." Your voice is cold as ice. "I did not. Not once. Not until you flitted back into my life."

Gods, maybe this whole plan was a mistake. You seemed like you really were moving on with your life - and then Astarion decided to come crashing in.

Astarion pulls out the ring and the note. The paper is crumpled, the ink faded - he'd read it over and over and over, trying to imprint every single memory he had of you in his mind. The ring is polished and well cared for. It's only now that you realize that Astarion is still wearing his.

"Back then, at the ritual. I was blinded by all the power and the safety it promised," Astarion says mournfully. "You've always seen the best in me, and I know you were trying to show me I could be better than Cazador ever made me to be. I wasn't able to understand it then. All I saw was you stabbing me in the back. You, of all people. Especially since I wanted to do it for us."

You scoff at that. "You cannot even admit the truth. For weeks before heading to Cazador's palace, the ascension was the only thing you ever spoke of, how you'd command some nocturnal hoard we would both supposedly rule over. You never asked me what I wanted. You just assumed. You didn't want it for <i>us</i>. You thought only of yourself."

He looks away, unable to bear your gaze any longer. You know him too well.

"You're right, of course," he says.

"Then say it. Speak the truth. Admit to it."

He shuts his eyes and sighs. "I wanted the ascension for myself. I didn't care what you want. I didn't care if I would turn into heartless being who would take what it wanted from you, regardless of your opinion on it. All I saw was the power, and I wanted it all to myself."

You seem satisfied with his confession. He knows it's the truth. He was too much of a coward to admit to it earlier. Astarion toys with the ring - your ring - in his hands. How long had he stared at it, day after wretched day, wishing he could somehow find you with it?

"I admit I wanted to hurt you when I...when I said I hoped you died screaming. I thought many terrible things in the days that followed. It was only when I returned to camp and found your belongings that I realized what I'd done. What I'd done to you."

He had wailed for you. You had never cried for him. Had he hurt you so badly that any love you held for him in your heart had shrivelled up and died? Had scorched the earth between the two of you so severely, nothing was ever to grow there again?

"You didn't deserve that. Any of it," he says. "And still, you found it in you to tell me you loved me."

"Because that was the truth." Your words weigh on him. Was. What about now? "I also know that sometimes, eventhough you love someone, you may both be better off apart. Which is why I let you go."

Astarion feels sick. Still, he needs to ask. Needs to know. "Do you still love me?"

"I'm not sure you have the right to ask that," you say bitterly. He hasn't even apologised properly, and yet has the gall to ask this. "But if it comforts you, I don't think all feelings are gone. Else, I would likely have less trouble entering a new relationship. And I wouldn't be crying, now."

Your tears haven't stopped. Astarion wishes they would. He hates knowing he's the cause of them. He has to swallow his jealousy. He wants to ask if it's Rolan who may have captured your heart, or Dammon, the sweet blacksmith. If it's Gale you have a distant relationship with, or if Shadowheart visits you in the night. But he is in no place to ask, not if he's the reason you're hurting.

Astarion leans across the table. He presents your ring to you in his open hand. You don't take it just yet, you simply watch him warily, the Owlbear and Scratch loyal at your side.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice almost a whisper. "I fucked up. I was messed up, too terrified of everything to think clearly. I'm sorry I said those things to you. You never deserved such treatment."

He bows his head.

"I've no right to ask for your forgiveness, let alone to ask you to take me back. I have been miserable since we parted, and I know it is my own fault. You're free to refuse me. I just...I just wanted to see you again, even if for the last time. If you are happier in your new life, I have no choice but to let you go."

You stare at him, for a good long while. Astarion doesn't move, frozen in place. He'll stay put until he has an answer, be it to say his farewells, or to pull you into his embrace.

You actually got a proper apology from him. That was all you wanted, really, but your mind is confused. You feel so much, all at once. You hate him, for having ever hurt you like that. And yet you love him, still. So, so, much. You've missed having him in your life. So while your mind is definitely still angry at what he said, and how he'd left you, your heart soars at the idea of having him back. It's enough to put out the firey rage, leaving nothing but relief. You'd worried so much about him the past months, wondering what had become of him after he left you.

You lean across the table yourself, and carefully clasp his hand in yours.

"Break up with me like that again, and I'll tie you up in my garden to see your last sunrise."

You're half-serious, half-joking about this. Your delivery is so dry, despite the wetness in your voice, that Astarion lets out a little giggle.

You've missed that sound.

"You'd be justified in doing so, darling. I'm surprised you haven't done it yet."

"Don't tempt me." You withdraw, and take your ring from him. "There's still time."

Astarion finally looks up. Tears are still rolling down your cheeks, but as you slip your ring back on, Astarion senses that at the very least, you're not hurting anymore - at least not as much. He's empathetic enough to understand this won't be a quick forgive-and-forget situation.

"Am I yours again, my love?" He asks. He almost doesn't dare to say it, but he needs to know. Needs to be sure.

"You are." You smile at him for the first time tonight, a true, honest smile. "As I am yours."

For the first time this evening, Astarion smiles a genuine smile. One of pure elation, of relief. It takes the years off of him, rounding out his eyes and softening his features.

He bolts up from his chair to near tackle you from yours. You yelp, for you surely would have fallen straight off if not for the massive Owlbear behind you. Astarion settles in your lap, unintentionally shooing Scratch away from you, and squeezes you to his chest. You can only laugh as Scratch then insistently burrows his snout between the two of you, demanding to be a part of the embrace, yipping excitedly all the way. You return Astarion's embrace, trying to accomodate your fluffy friend as well.

"Gods, what a relief," Astarion murmurs into your hair. "I've missed you, my love. You have no idea."

"I can imagine, my darling. You've gone to quite the length to find me," you reply. You shut your eyes, relaxing in his arms. "I missed you, too. Terribly so."

You stay like this, with his weight comfortable in your lap, until Scratch decides all this cuddling is far too warm for him. The dog scuttles out again, which you use as your cue to head over to your living room. You and Astarion stay there for the next few hours, talking, catching up, and drinking some more. All the while, Astarion is glued to your side - he's been without contact for months, and he's not ready to be apart from you again.

It's only when your yawns start increasing that he decides for the both of you that your night is over. Your tiredness is a bitter reminder to him of how the two of you now exist in different rhythms, but you quickly assure him that you'll find a way to manage.

The two of you have faced harder challenges.

Astarion insists on carrying you up to your bedroom. Scratch and the Owlbear curl up on their respective nests to sleep downstairs - the Owlbear is far too big to climb the stairs, and Scratch would never abandon him to sleep alone.

When getting ready for bed, Astarion is disappointed to learn you truly have none of his clothing left in your possession. No shirt for him, then, which neither of you happen to mind terribly. He strips down to his underwear, and is delighted to see that, while your eyes have a quick roam over his bared skin, they easily settle back on his face, happy and relaxed.

You never were with him for just his body. You always loved him for who he is.

It's a little awkward at first. The two of you just got back together, neither of you are sure what the other is comfortable with. You allow Astarion to take the lead on that - he's the one who has more trouble with intimacy, so his boundaries need prioritising, within reason, of course.

For now, he just stares as he lays across from you, like he is truly unsure of what to do. Then, he hesitantly speaks.

"May I kiss you?" He asks.

He doesn't have to ask twice. "You may."

"Thank you, my treasure. Can you lay on your back for me?"

Easily done. Astarion is gentle with you. He cautiously slides himself between your legs, avoiding too close of a contact at first, and cages you in with his arms. You gaze up at him, taking in the vibrant red of his eyes, the slightly nervous glint in them.

You nod at him once more to affirm that you want this.

He dips his head down and presses the softest of kisses to you lips. It's so chaste and gentle, it seems so unlike him. You enjoy the softness. It's a rare gift from him.

His lips are hungry for more. They wander away from your own, leaving little pecks on your cheek, your brow, your nose, your eyelids. You feel every word he might wish to convey to you in each of his kisses.

Don't leave me. I need you. I love you.

When his lips find yours once more, their touch is more heated. He pulls you impossibly close, and you grasp his shoulders in return. Astarion's tongue licks along your lips, and you easily let him enter, moaning softly as his hands glide down the sides of your body and rest on your hips, squeezing at your flesh.

Astarion moves on from your lips to pepper your neck with kisses. He's disappointed that his bitemarks have healed and left no scars in his absence, no trace of him left on your lovely skin. You feel his growing hardness start to strain against his undergarments, but resist grasping for him in a short moment of clarity.

"No," you say softly.

Astarion raises his head. He looks confused, almost hurt. You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, trying to soothe his fears.

"I want this. Madly so, my Starlight," you say. "But tonight is not the night for it. Everything feels too fresh, too raw. I don't think I would enjoy it if we slept together right now."

You see the relief in his eyes, the panic dissipating from his expression.

"You may be right, darling. Apologies. I got carried away."

"Don't apologise. Not for that." You pull him down for another kiss. You feel him smile against you before you break it off again. "We can keep kissing like this, though. I do rather like that."

"Darling, there is nothing I'd like to do more."

Astarion kisses your lips, your face, lovingly, adoringly over and over, until your breathing starts to slow, and he realizes you've fallen asleep in his arms.

He'll keep watch. Keep you safe. No matter what may come.

__________

The next morning, you wake to Scratch yipping at you from the footend of the bed, and Astarion missing from your side.

You drowsily cast a quick Animal Speak spell, to hear what your fluffy friend has to say.

"The other one's doing something in the food place," Scratch tells you. "It smells...concerning."

Good gods. You quickly throw on a dressing gown and head downstairs, Scratch at your tail. Indeed, you smell something burned, and hear a sound of frustration come from your kitchen.

The Owlbear curiously eyes Astarion through the doorway. You pet its beak, before heading in to meet your lover, who has clearly been defeated by what looks to be heavily charred fried eggs, the yolks burst and blackened bits stuck to the pan.

"Cooking for me?" You coo at him, slinking up and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. "The bacon and the bread looks good."

"Yes, and the eggs are a disaster," Astarion says with a sigh. He turns his head to press a kiss to your forehead. "So much for my surprise. Good morning, little love."

"Good morning to you too, Little Star. Oh, and I'm happy and surprised, nonetheless. The Owlbear doesn't mind charred food, so they won't go entirely to waste, and I can show you how to do it without them sticking to the pan like this."

He lets you take the reigns from there, paying attention as you teach him how to fry an egg.

Later, you settle down in your living room after breakfast, the curtains shut tight so Astarion can get comfortable.

"So, what's next?" He asks. "Any plans?"

"Well, first I'll send message to Rolan that I'm taking the next week or two off," you say. "I'd like to just spend some time...being with you. We didn't get the chance to do that on the road, perpetually fearing and fighting for our lives. Now, we can."

"Sounds delightful. No objections from me."

He'll have to bring what few belongings he has to your house. You have no trouble accommodating him - what had worried you was that he'd admitted to you that he was essentially homeless, drifting from place to place with just his pack and nothing else.

"Wonderful. I think we need a bit of adjustment time. While I'm glad to have you back in my life, some wounds still need healing, I think." You give him a knowing look. "On both sides."

Astarion hates how right you are, but hums in agreement, anyway.

"Do you want to see the others?" You then offer. "Not a lot of them are close, though. Shadowheart is the closest. The others are day's trips away, or in another realm entirely."

"Shadowheart would be a good start," Astarion says. "She may be the least likely to stake me for having broken your heart."

"You'll have better luck with Wyll or Gale," you say with a chuckle. "She was ready to set your tent on fire."

Astarion feels a cold shiver run down his spine. "As long as she doesn't set me on fire, I'd love to reunite with her."

"Don't worry. She's bound to be more mad at me, really." You find this all too amusing. "I can hear her already. 'Really? He trampled all over your heart and you're taking him back?!'"

That does sound like Shadowheart.

"Anyway. We could also head to the Underdark and see what's what. The portal is easy enough to cast," you contemplate. "And the quicker the Arcane Tower is back up and running, the closer I may be to find a solution for your sunlight allergy."

"I'm happy to go anywhere you like, as long as I get to be by your side, my love," Astarion says sincerly.

He's truthful this time, you both know.

Astarion feels that with you by his side, anything and everything may be possible for him. His new life can truly begin now, and he's happy that he gets to share it with you.

His dearest, most beloved treasure.

[stayxstraykidss]

A Loyal Customer (Zevlor x Reader (Non Tav))

(I actually dreamed about this the other day and I had to write it 😂 I hope you enjoy reading! 🧡)

You noticed the door open and you stopped sewing for a second to approach the customer. When you noticed the same tiefling that visited a lot lately, you smiled at him.

"Welcome back. What do you need?", you asked him.

"The undershirt of my armor is in shreds again, I hope you can fix it.", he said.

He handed you his folded shirt and he looked rather embarrassed doing so. It wasn't the first time he visited you this week. It wasn't the second time as well, but the third.

"How do you ruin it so often?", you asked laughing while you took the shirt from his hand.

"Fighting, mostly."

He was smiling and waited for you to check if you could fix his undershirt again.

When you unfolded it you weren't sure if you should laugh or cry. The fabric was ripped and part of it was missing completely. There was no way you could fix that.

"I am sorry, but there is no fixing for this shirt. I'll make you a new one.", you said when you put the shreds of fabric that remained of the shirt down and picked up the measuring tape.

"Oh, that's very sweet, but I'll have to admit I currently can't afford a new one. Tieflings aren't really welcome in Baldur's Gate and finding a stable job hasn't been-"

"See it as a gift then. It's against my pride to let my customers walk around with torn clothes.", you said. This was probably part of the reason why you were still working in the smallest space you could find in Rivington.

"I can't accept that, your work is great and you should be paid well for it.", he said, clearly uncomfortable with your offer.

"How do you expect to get a well paying job with an undershirt hanging in shreds?"

He sighed and he knew you got a point. His eyes locked with yours and a smile formed on his lips.

"You are too kind. I will make sure to pay you twice as soon as I can afford it. I promise."

"No, this shirt is a gift, but I expect you to keep coming back once you could afford the high society stores.", you said laughing. "Now let me get started measuring you, I want the shirt to fit."

He joined in on your laugh and took a step closer to you, so you could get started with your work.

"You never told me your name."

"I am Zevlor.", he said and asked for yours, too.

While you told him your name, you measured his arm length and the width of his shoulders.

When measuring his back you noticed something odd about the way his pants fit around his tail.

"Do you wear regular pants with just a hole cut into it for your tail??", you said and your hand was already pulling on the waistband of the pants.

The skin on his tail visibly bruised with the fact that regular human pants weren't made for tails.

He moved away by the sudden touch of your hand on his bruised skin.

"I uhm-.. it's not like I have much choice, tiefling clothes are even more expensive as regular ones and it's not like there is many stores for that, too."

He avoided your gaze, visibly uncomfortable by the fact he doesn't even have pants that properly fit him. Arriving in Baldur's Gate really wasn't going easy on him, with most of his belongings gone and barely any money left.

"Stand still so I can measure you and your clothes will be done tomorrow. I won't let you bruise your skin any more.", you said.

You hated how people judged tieflings and made their life worse, so seeing him with bruised skin by just not being able to afford fitting pants was making you angry. Not that you had anyone in particular to be angry at, but that wasn't your concern right now.

"You really can't give me more than the shirt. I can't even pay you for your work on that.", he said, as he tried to keep you from measuring his legs, too.

"Listen, Zevlor. I know it makes you uncomfortable, not being able to pay for it, but I know you are not the type of person to forget about the help I offered and I don't plan on dying tomorrow, so you will have a lifetime to pay for the pants. The shirt is still a gift, so don't dare trying to pay for that.", you said while your hands rested on his shoulders and you looked into his eyes.

His eyes were moving across your face and you weren't sure what's on his mind.

"Thank you, really. I don't know how I deserve your kindness."

"Everyone deserves kindness and I am pretty sure it has been a while since you recieved some.", you said and you finally finished measuring his legs, too.

Turning to your desk you write it down so you can start making the clothes.

"Thank you again.", he said quietly.

"You're welcome.", you responded, smiling at him. "You can come pick up your clothes tomorrow."

The next day he came back as expected.

Of course he had to put on the clothes you made him so you could check if they actually fit him.

"Fits perfectly. Thank you.", he said when he stepped out of the changing room.

"I'm glad. I don't make tiefling pants every day, so I was a little worried.", you responded. "Turn around."

He turned and you noticed the pants fitting well around the tail too, with the bruised part on his skin visible.

"Please, before you wear regular pants again come here and let me make new ones for you.", you told him, softly poking the bruised spot and making him jump slightly by it.

"By the quality of these clothes, they won't rip as easily. I hope I won't have to come back to ask for your help anytime soon.", he said and he noticed the frown on your face.

"What if I want you to come back soon?", you replied and he looked at you surprised, before avoiding your gaze.

"I guess I could come back without needing your help then."

"I'm looking forward to it.", you responded smiling at him.

[stayxstraykidss]

Saviour

Pages 5 & 6 of 6

(Previous update)

Thanks to my patrons for helping making this comic possible; Next update coming soon!

[stayxstraykidss]

Hello my dear! Prompt for you, what Rolan and Dammon are like drunk, what kind of night they had at the tiefling party on their own, how they are with an interested Tav that night (Rolan x Tav, Dammon x Tav, how they are with an interested each other (dammon x rolan), and how they are with a poly for the celebration (dammon x Tav x rolan) long one I know but damn you feed us well

[bangs metal pots together] Rolan x Dammon polycule lovers, come collect your horny boys!

Please be aware this turned to shameless filth at the end. I cannot be trusted with either of them, and especially not both. 👀 Credits to @turquoiseoverthesea for the lap sitting mischief!

Rolan & Dammon drunk at the Tiefling party: solo + poly HCs with Tav

(Tav is gender-neutral) - (NSFW under the cut)

Rolan solo:

Rolan wasn’t even sure he wanted to come tonight…but he found himself in a generous mood and decided to bestow his company on these rubes

Plus he doesn’t trust Cal to moderate himself or Lia to keep Cal reined in (oldest siblings have to do everything around here)

Ends up tipsier than either of them, though he’s decent at hiding it

You can tell by the way his hand gestures get more and more animated throughout the night

When he’s drunk: actually loosens up a lot in general, smiles and laughs more freely

Drunk Rolan is somehow even more self-assured and cocky than usual, yet simultaneously much more charming about it

Doesn’t realize how handsome he looks when he’s genuinely enjoying himself

Also gets more free with his spellwork once you get a few glasses of wine in him

Fends off Cal and Lia’s requests for him to conjure a whole menagerie of animal illusions, but if Tav asks, he won’t be able to say no

Conjures an owlbear and a tiger and maybe even a dragon if he feels like really showing off to impress Tav, much to the delight of any Tiefling kids who might be sneaking around the party

Even if he spends the night on his own, Rolan ends up having a much nicer time than he wants to admit. He’s a pessimistic worrywort at heart—taking an evening to unwind is honestly good for this poor guy’s stress levels

Cal and Lia are having a great time, too, and that makes Rolan truly happy. Just to see them both enjoying themselves for a change

If Rolan can work up the courage to approach Gale, he’d talk to him for hours about the Weave and spellcasting over a bottle of wine

Takes delight in finding such a highly educated magical mind here in the middle of this godforsaken nowhere (tries to play it cool for the sake of his ego though)

Dammon solo:

Dammon didn’t plan to go but changed his mind at the last minute when it sank in that Tav would be there

Before the party, he definitely sneaks off to wash up in the nearby river. The smell of smoke and iron dust in his clothes is pretty permanent at this point, but he’d rather make a tidy impression tonight if possible

Arrives with his hair still damp but pulled back into its neat topknot

A bit like Zevlor, Dammon tends to hover around the edges holding his drink at first, just taking in everyone else’s good mood tonight

His drinks of choice are at the opposite ends of the spectrum: prefers a very fine brandy or a common ale, nothing in between

Would politely accept a glass of wine if it’s offered but only sips it

When he’s drunk: gets very sincere and kind of intense

He’s the type to sit down to share a bottle and have a long, intimate conversation with someone for several hours, preferably Tav or Rolan. Both is ideal

You can tell Dammon has had a few when he makes really sustained eye contact while you’re talking. Sits a bit closer than usual to show you’re his sole focus right now. Combined with his striking eyes, it’s kinda hot

Also when he’s drunk the tips of Dammon’s ears flush a bright, ruddy pink

Dammon spending the night on his own—I can imagine it going a few ways, depending on his mood

If he’s feeling more cheery and sociable, Dammon might sit near the campfire to hear Alfira’s music and listen to his fellow Tieflings talk about their plans when they reach the city, adding encouraging comments here and there

I could also see him taking his drink and heading out for a quieter spot near the water

Dammon’s a bit of a loner with this group, always seems to keep himself apart from the rest of his fellow travelers. Maybe he enjoys working with infernal iron a little too much to mention in mixed company

Rolan x Tav:

Maybe if Rolan was sober he’d pick up on Tav’s flirting faster

Then again, maybe he’s so wrapped up in trying to impress them with his accomplishments that he doesn’t realize how well it’s actually working

Rolan’s probably out of practice with romance, or pretty inexperienced, or some combination of the two

Dropping hints is just not enough for this guy. He enjoys the banter with Tav a lot more than he wants to admit, but he’s got a mental block against taking it further

It will definitely take something physical from Tav

Making an excuse to touch his hands, or “accidentally” bumping hips or shoulders several times

Then there’s the direct route of “is this seat taken?” 

Rolan will look up in surprise but gesture to the bench next to him. Then Tav plops down directly on his lap, and Rolan’s surprise turns into actual panic

Kind of holds his hands hovering frozen out to either side for a second, not sure where to put them even though Tav’s hips are currently snuggled up on his thighs

Torn between everyone here including his siblings seeing this blatant display of public flirtation, and the feeling of how nice Tav’s weight in on top of his legs

When Tav leans in to curl an arm around his shoulders, Rolan’s done for. Any thoughts of shifting them off his lap go out the window and he clasps his hands politely around the side of their leg

Rolan will try to maintain the conversation, but his responses get short and distracted. All he can concentrate on is Tav’s scent and voice and their face so close to his

He’ll accept a few kisses while Tav’s on his lap, but only the shortest, softest lip touches

If they introduce the slightest hint of tongue, Rolan will pull them away and clear his throat maroon-faced and ask which tent is Tav’s, and demand that they both please go there right now

Rolan follows them while studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone he knows

If he realizes Tav is instead leading him farther away from camp, the implication makes his tail flick with excitement

He’d love nothing more than to find a nice soft patch of grass and make out with Tav for an hour

Rolan’s kisses are eager and a bit sloppy at first. But he’s very teachable, both a devoted student and a quick learner

With a little guidance, before long Rolan’s got Tav making some soft and breathless sounds of their own

Tav sitting with their legs straddling Rolan’s thighs would really test his patience—if Rolan wasn’t hard from them on his lap before, he’s definitely hard now

Might get so excited he doesn’t ask before sliding his tail up their hips or wrapping it around their waist

Once he realizes Tav’s equally worked up, Rolan would encourage them to grind down on his thigh however makes them feel good

Adores getting to see the hero of the night pleasuring themself on his leg while his tail squeezes and caresses around their middle

Dammon x Tav:

Dammon is difficult to pin down for a conversation at first, let alone anything more

He keeps circling along the perimeter of the party, chatting politely here and there but never settling for long

He catches Tav’s eye several times but needs some time to work up the courage to approach them—the last thing he wants to do is monopolize someone so popular (even though that’s exactly what he wants to do)

But after Tav returns his looks enough times across the campfire, Dammon has no problem making the first move

He’ll probably lead with a question (enjoying the evening, need another drink, etc)

It’s a polite move but also to gauge Tav’s interest. Dammon knows he’s into them at this point, but he’s still trying to suss out their exact feelings

Once Tav starts dropping a flirtatious remark here or there in conversation, sparks are flying

Dammon can be so smooth when he puts his mind to it, and it’s not long before he and Tav are touching in some way

When he rests a hand on the small of Tav’s back and asks if they’d like to get some air, it’s fucking on

Dammon knows the area pretty well by this point—leads them to a nice secluded clearing that he stumbled on last week and mentally filed away for this exact purpose

Once they’re alone, calloused hands on Tav’s hips are guiding them gently back against the nearest tree trunk and Dammon’s lips are on theirs

He’s a very deliberate kisser, slow and tender but hot at the same time

If it seems like Dammon’s lips are following a predetermined roadmap down Tav’s jaw and neck, that’s because they are

Man has a notoriously healthy imagination and has been thinking about where he’d like to kiss them for a while

He waits for Tav to do anything below the belt first, but once Dammon feels their hands graze there he’s pinning Tav into the tree behind them with his hips

Grinds into them while he sucks on Tav’s neck, drawing as many delicious sounds from their lips as he can

All the kissing and heavy petting is perfectly delightful on its own, but if Tav asked him to take them up against that tree, Dammon would in a heartbeat

Dammon x Rolan

It’s no coincidence that Rolan and his siblings end up lingering near Dammon’s tent back at the Grove

Dammon comes across as the strong silent type, and as the loud not-so-strong type, Rolan finds that very attractive

But Rolan’s also trying hard to keep to himself and not stare. He only stares maybe once every few minutes, and only because Dammon’s toned forearms flexing and the way he grunts with each hammer blow are very difficult to ignore

For Dammon’s part, he’s fascinated and a little impressed by Rolan. Sure he’s got a lot of bluster, but Dammon’s seen what he can do with the Weave, and it’s definitely made an impression

At the party—Dammon will 100% be the one who approaches first

Not afraid of making his intentions known, Dammon gets Lia’s advice on what wine to bring and takes a bottle with him to break the ice

If there’s one thing Rolan’s good at, it’s conversation

But he keeps talking around things—though Dammon appreciates the clever whirrings of Rolan’s mind, right now he’s more interested in his mouth for other reasons

Dammon shoots his shot by brushing a “hair” from Rolan’s cheekbone with his thumb

There’s nothing there, but Rolan is too dumbstruck at the contact to realize. It actually shuts him up for a moment as they both stare at each other

To Dammon’s surprise, maybe spurred on by the liquid courage, Rolan is the one who suggests they take a walk along the river

They’re both buzzing with too much anticipation to say more than a few short words to each other as they walk. When they settle near the river bank, they’re stretched out side by side with hands braced on the ground just inches from each other

Unable to bear the awkward silence, Rolan opens lips to say something just as Dammon tilts his head over to kiss him

The result is that they’re tongue kissing almost immediately

Rolan groans and shivers so hard Dammon has to gently grip his jaw with a hand, keeping Rolan’s mouth where he can explore it

Before long their tails are tangled up behind them, twining and tugging back and forth in a way that has them both panting into the kiss

Dammon x Rolan x Tav

At some point in the night, Rolan and Tav got into a debate about one of those little things that seems so goddamn important when you’re tipsy. Dammon walked past and was immediately dragged in as a neutral party

But Dammon had a separate third opinion, which only made Rolan turn his arguments on the other man with much wild gesticulating of his free hand

Tav burst into laughter between them, and Rolan and Dammon both found themselves too charmed by the sight to care about anything else

From there the wine and conversation both flowed freely

Little, casual touches followed: fingers brushing together over a passed bottle, Dammon clapping Rolan’s back with a friendly comment—a move that turned more than friendly as Dammon’s hand trailed down slightly, causing Rolan to glance his direction with a flush in his cheeks

Eventually Rolan got bold and tried his own luck, sliding an arm around Tav’s waist while they were grinning at something he said. Dammon’s eyes flicked to the gesture immediately

After a trio of shared glances, Dammon broke the rather excited silence by announcing that he knows a place where they could find a little privacy

As the three of them enter the forest clearing, any remaining hesitance melts when Dammon grabs the collar of Rolan’s robes to pull him into a kiss that traps Tav firmly in the middle

Being abruptly sandwiched between their chests pushes a gasp from Tav’s throat, which turns to an approving hum at the sight and sounds of Rolan and Dammon devouring each others’ mouths over their shoulder

Tav’s arms snake around the wizard in front, while behind they feel Dammon’s palms smoothing over the curves of their waist and hips

Dammon breaks the kiss before guiding Rolan’s chin gently toward Tav, and Rolan needs no more encouragement to capture their lips eagerly

Meanwhile, Dammon bends to place soft kisses at the juncture where Tav’s neck meets their shoulder. Dextrous fingers pull their shirt laces looser to expose more kissable skin

Periodically he’ll surface behind their ear to praise how lovely Tav looks between him and Rolan like this, and how good they’re going to make Tav feel. It sets off a chorus of moans passing from Tav to Rolan and back again as their lips slide together 

Once Tav decides the wizard’s had more than his share, they break the wet kiss and tilt their head back to meet Dammon’s mouth. Rolan is panting and wiping saliva from his chin, instantly greedy for more

Dammon chuckles against Tav’s lips and suggests there are other ways Rolan can put his mouth to use—and doesn’t Tav deserve some gratitude after everything they’ve done for the two of them?

It wouldn’t work coming from anyone else, but at Dammon’s sultry baritone, Rolan doesn’t hesitate as he slips to place a trail of kisses down Tav’s belly to their waist and lands on his knees in front of them

He impatiently works off Tav’s shoes and pants, tugging with such enthusiasm that only Dammon’s firm grip over their torso keeps Tav balanced. Then Rolan’s mouth abruptly closes between Tav’s legs, licking and sucking as if he intends to make up for every thank you left unspoken

Thankfully Dammon’s mouth stops up their moans, or Tav might worry about the sounds carrying back to camp. Instead only the filthy, wet sounds of Rolan’s mouth against their sex fills the clearing 

Dammon’s hands guide Tav’s to each of Rolan’s curving horns, encouraging Tav to ride his face. Rolan moans between their legs at the new sensation of Tav’s grip tugging him, the vibration sending a shudder up their spine

At that Dammon pulls out of the kiss with a groan. One of his hands leaves their hip to tug the linen shirt up and over Tav’s head, leaving them standing completely bare in the dark woods between the two Tieflings. There’s another rustling movement before Dammon’s hard length unfurls against the small of Tav’s back 

He’s hot and ridged, and before Tav can release one of Rolan’s horns to reach back for him, Dammon is grinding with a low grunt into the bare skin of their back

Each rhythmic roll of his hips pushes Tav harder against Rolan’s mouth. As if the increased pressure wasn't enough, a tail Tav suspects belongs to Dammon coils firmly up their leg to force their stance plenty open for Rolan’s mouth

As pleasure rapidly coils in their belly, Tav manages to glance down to see Rolan frantically palming himself through his trousers, his other hand joining his lips at working Tav’s orgasm from between their legs

The sight pushes Tav over the edge—just in time, a calloused hand closes over their mouth to catch the loud, keening sounds of their climax

Tav grinds out the waves against Rolan’s mouth, gripping his horns desperately, feeling him whimper and shake between their legs as he himself releases against his own hand

Just a few seconds later, Dammon’s teeth close bluntly over Tav’s shoulder—and in the next moment, hot liquid spurts in trailing paths over the skin of their back

Dammon goes down first on wobbling legs; the tail still wrapped around Tav’s own leg drags them down after him

The three of them lie in a panting pile on the mossy forest floor. Tav’s clothes are somewhere around here, but in the meantime two sets of limbs lay sprawled from either side across Tav’s body, with two ridged tails caressing over Tav’s bare skin as if in loving praise

And that’s just the beginning of the night

[stayxstraykidss]

Not enough people talk about Dammon and the raw potential of his physical strength

Dammon x Tav/Reader (but really just reader) | 18+

NSFW further down, don’t take chances.

We know he’s strong. Shamefully so. It should honestly be illegal how little we talk about it.

Knowing that he’s strong is one thing, but first times, first touches, first experiences are a whole different story.

When he takes your hand you get your first taste: his hands are rough and calloused from daily labour and hard work. His strength evident in how he holds your hand, and yet, he’s unbelievably gentle with you.

The first time you hug, you feel his arms around you, his tail curling around your leg or waist, his chest against yours—everything about the hug is breathtaking. If not the gesture, then the crushing hold he has on you. It’s not quite rough enough to actually hurt you, but he makes it no secret that he’s possessive and protective of you. You can feel his muscles flex under your fingers when you wrap your arms around him and curl your fingers into the back of his shirt, when you hold onto his shoulders, or when you wrap your hands around his upper arms.

He might start wrapping an arm around your waist whenever you’re nearby, or a tail around your wrist when you try to leave before he wants to let you leave.

When you have sex with him for the first time, he’s gentle at first. Especially if you tell him that he’s your first. He would take his sweet time with you, let you explore his, possibly unfamiliar, infernal features.

Your hands trailing over bumps and ridges on his upper body and legs, he would let you take control for now, let you look and touch—and if you decide to suck him off he’ll be the happiest man in Faerûn.

It would take a lot of restraint for him not to thrust his hips up into your throat when he feels your mouth around his cock, but he has enough self control to give you mercy for now.

He would return the favour, go down on you, pleasure you with his mouth as well. He would have a grip on your thighs that makes you see stars. If you try to move, he wouldn’t let you. There’s no way in hell that this wouldn’t leave bruises, but that would only make it better. This man is intent on marking what’s his.

He wouldn’t stop after you cum once. He would keep going and perhaps start pushing two fingers into you, careful not to hurt you, but once you relax around his fingers and get used to them, he would thrust his fingers into you rather roughly and it wouldn’t take him long to make you cum for the second time.

After ample preparation, he would pull you close against him by your legs, both of you naked and his cock rock hard against your pelvis. He would ask if you’re ready before pushing it in with one smooth push.

He wouldn’t give you too much time to adjust—wouldn’t have to, you were prepared well and drenched with desperation. His thrusts wouldn’t be particularly fast, but they’d be strong and forceful. And scarily accurate.

The second he finds your spot once he would keep on hitting it, rarely ever missing, reducing you to a moaning mess.

He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you, grabbing your thighs or your waist, tail always wrapped around you as well. His lips would be occupied with yours or with your neck, kisses and gentle bites, he would definitely leave his mark on you, in places that are harder to hide than what it’s worth.

You would come to his forge a few days after. Noticing the marks he left on your neck, he would give you a wink and a sly smirk. Perhaps some of your companions would notice, maybe even comment on it later on.

He’s so much more than the nice-boy-next-door.

He may be gentle at first but…

He’s feral if you let him be.

And if he doesn’t have the potential to fold you in half, then no one does.

[stayxstraykidss]

okay i did it thank you to @thalwhore and the fantastic folks over at @volotramp's server for the coherent screaming

[stayxstraykidss]

BLOOD ORANGE (full)

Description: You get your period during your adventure and anxiously wonder… can Astarion tell? Why is he acting like that? Looking at you like that? Smut ensues. (Takes place before you’ve ever slept together.)

Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety, sexual tension, mild blood, period sex, vampire biting, blood drinking, teasing, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, porn without plot, fluff and smut

Wordcount: ~7k (~3k just smut)

Read on AO3 or below the cut ♥

Something discomforting interrupts your sleep.

Sensations filter into consciousness - stars, crickets’ songs, the hard earth beneath you, and the smell of your now ashen campfire. A dull ache and heaviness spreads down your back and through your pelvis. It's a familiar feeling; it's just your period, though that isn’t much consolation at the moment. It still might as well be a stab wound.

You shift your weight with irritation and curse to yourself. Of all the times for this to happen, now was particularly annoying. During the day, you could've found something to distract yourself. But now, you’re expected to sit still among all your peacefully sleeping companions with nothing to dampen the pain. It's already starting to feel like knives carving into your body from the inside.

When this happened weeks prior, you were able to pull Shadowheart aside and she was happy to cast a spell to alleviate the pain. Part of you would like to ask her for that again now, but you don't get the sense you’re close enough with her to wake her at this hour. It wouldn't be the end of the world... but your pride and anxiety insist that it's just not an option. She did, however, give you a blood-catching cloth that you could use for next time. That was nice of her. 

You clutch at your sacrum when another painful sensation rakes through your insides. You ache to change clothes and be alone so you can groan and stretch in peace. There's bound to be a clearing in the forest not far from here where you could do that. Carefully pulling some supplies from your pack, you excuse yourself to go find such a place.

After hobbling through the woods for a few meters, the perfect spot comes into view. The trees are dispersed widely with large patches of soft grass creating space between them. Dew is already starting to blanket the ground. This will do. Undressing from the waist down, you notice a small stain of garnet blood has already marred your underwear. You change into clean clothes and put the blood catching cloth in place, wincing and groaning dramatically as you do so.

Finally, you lie down in the cool grass and release a deep breath, finding some comfort in at least being alone. But the cramps are still painful and debilitating. Stretching usually helps you ease the gnawing and clenching of your muscles, so you cycle through a few positions for several minutes. You end up on all fours, arching your spine and dipping your navel toward the earth. You sigh with relief and find yourself almost growing sleepy again . . .

"Having a midnight romp, are we?" 

A silken voice hits your ears and sends your head spinning behind you.

Astarion stands at the edge of your forest sanctuary. He gently leans against a tree with his arms loosely crossed. He wears his usual camp clothes and a simpering expression.

"Ah, it's just you." Your bristles lower when you register the voice and see his familiar face. You rearrange yourself into a more dignified seated position. "Stalking me then, are we?"

"I wouldn't call it stalking so much as just following a loud, clumsy woman a few paces outside of our camp. Curiosity got the better of me," he says with some playfulness.

You smile a little. Quips like that used to annoy you, but you've grown quite fond of his sarcasm and banter these past few weeks.

"Well, you have found the loud, clumsy woman. Sorry if I disturbed your rest. I tried to be quiet," you say.

"Please, it's not like I need any more beauty sleep," he teases.

You smirk at him but say nothing. Your insides recoil a bit when you feel the temptation to agree. Truthfully, you've developed something of a 'crush’ on him, and it's reaching a certain point where you’re not always sure how to respond to his silly or suggestive comments. His roguish good looks and vicious aura don't help; he is indisputably attractive. Dangerously so.

But, a love affair is the last thing you want to further complicate your tadpole predicament with, especially with someone who can be so unpredictable. At least, this is what you tell yourself when the thought arises.

Besides, you don't want to stroke his ego too much. You've already been letting him feed from you nearly every night under the guise of 'I need you stronger for battles,' but truthfully… you enjoy it.

You enjoy the rush of adrenaline and the atmosphere of closeness that comes when his lips wrap around your neck. The sharp shock of pain that melts into a cold pleasurable tingle in your veins. You also like seeing the aftermath play out in his features. It always seems to have a very restorative and rousing effect on him. The way his mannerisms and expressions change after drinking from your body; It does something to you that you’re not quite willing to admit. 

"You know," he says, forced to break the silence. "I was a bit surprised you didn't invite me for a bite tonight... Not that I’m here to beg!" His hands raise in mock defense and he smiles sheepishly. "I just... well, you may have spoiled me a bit." 

A short laugh escapes you and you glance away shyly. "It's just been a busy day. I didn't mean to leave you hanging." This was the truth. "Besides, I’m not feeling very well so it's probably for the best. I likely wouldn't make a very good meal."

"Oh, I don't know..." he says trailing off. The corner of his lip twitches.

You notice something's a bit weird about him tonight... weirder than normal. He’s smiling but it seems off - an edge behind his cool exterior. Over these past few weeks, you've seen so many different expressions on his face but this one you don’t recognize. He’s also never sought you out to ask 'why not tonight?' when you didn't extend an invitation in the past. And it seems out of character for him to do anything that could be interpreted as desperation.

"What's got you feeling so poorly?" he asks almost sweetly.

"Just some stomach cramps," you say flatly and divert your gaze again. Annoyed he's making you elaborate on a potentially embarrassing situation. You regret mentioning feeling unwell in the first place.

In a tone that doesn't sound all that genuinely concerned, he sings, "Oh dear, I hope you're not the first of us to come down with some nasty food poisoning."

There's an ounce of breathiness to his voice - provocative as usual. But normally his torso and arms sway about expressively when the two of you chat. Those sweeping arms and gratuitous body language are now replaced with just the tiniest lift of his heels from the ground when he speaks. His arms folded over his waist, tightly, unmoving.

His stillness unnerves you. It also seems out of character for him to offer help... or pry…

You notice his eyelids are soft but his stare has so much potency behind it.

A sharp realization finally pierces your mind. You do recognize this look.

Gods above, so caught up in mulling over your infatuation and reading his cues that you didn’t even consider…

Does he… does he know you’re bleeding?

Can he smell you? 

Of course he can.

He's like a shark when there's a bloodied scene nearby. He always makes a point to mention it so the rest of us will be on guard during our travels. 'There's blood in the air.' 

You recognize this look from the first night he tried to bite you – suppressing his urge to devour you.

Ice in your veins.

You swallow thickly.

Detaching yourself from the thought as quickly as possible, you huff and try to squash the present discussion with some good old-fashioned beating around the bush.

 "Okay well... it's not a stomach cramp per say, um… I don’t really think you would relate. The important thing is I can promise it won't come to affect you too," you say curtly.

You can feel yourself blushing, your chest a bit tight with anxiety. If he didn't sense it before, then he must know now. This topic usually provokes some disgust and awkwardness from people who don't experience it, but you've never given thought to how a vampire would react. Which seems ridiculous now, considering you've been letting one feed from your neck nearly every night for weeks now. Your mind screams the last part silently.

"Ah, say no more," he says politely, seeming to understand your hints. "Forgive my nosiness."

You’re relieved the reaction isn't an unpleasant one. "It's fine," you reply quickly. "I just needed to find somewhere to groan in peace."

"You're sure it's not ceremorphosis?" he jests, feigning nervousness. He knows it isn't, but it lightens the mood. "You'll have a hard time convincing Lae'zel that it isn't." 

"Do githyanki not have periods?" you ask with genuine curiosity.

"Oh I have no idea. And I do not intend to ask." 

You'd find it funnier if you weren't so uncomfortable, but it does clear the last fragments of tension in the air. As if on cue, a sharp pain suddenly hitches your breath and makes you wince. Now that the hellcat's out of the bag, you don't bother masking your discomfort.

Astarion clicks his tongue and quickly apologizes when he sees your face contort. He takes a hesitant step towards you and then seems to root himself in place again. 

“It’s okay," you say through pinched features. “A nuisance. I’ll be fine by morning.”

"I suppose I should give you your privacy then,” Astarion drawls out rather slowly. His eyes skim up and down your body intentionally before he turns to leave. He wears a similar smile to the one that befalls him after feeding on you – the same one you’d never admit does wicked things to you.

"If I can be of any assistance to you tomorrow, please... let me know," he says over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams~”

~

The next morning, Shadowheart aids you. She insists you can wake her next time. She won't mind. 

As you venture forth, you can’t help but think back to the last time you had your period during your journey and how Astarion might (must…) have smelled you then too.

It was early into your travels, no more than 24 hours after surviving the nautiloid crash. You remember cursing to yourself about the timing, but there aren’t any memorable details beyond that. Any aches and pains were likely overshadowed by the daunting threat of ceremorphosis and energy spent getting to know your new companions.

You try to specifically recall Astarion's demeanor during those few days, but it's hard to remember anything outstanding. He was terribly reserved for the better part of a week when you started travelling together. ‘What’s there to tell? ...It’s all rather tedious.’ Only after his vampirism was exposed did he seem to strike up more conversations and wear more emotions on his face. But you do eventually remember an exception…

His façade seemed to crack when you stumbled upon a gory scene of bloodied gnolls and hyenas. His demeanor was suddenly strange and turbulent when you stood amongst them. Surrounded by piles of mutilated flesh and impossibly wide puddles of blood, even your less-attuned senses were saturated with the metallic aroma. He was trembling, gasping almost through each sentence. Desperate to move on and away from the area once we’d killed them all.

You remember thinking in the moment that he seemed more shaken up than you would’ve expected. And his comments about the overwhelming smell of blood... it seemed to disturb him more than anyone else – even though he’d given off the impression he was no stranger to violence and killing.

Now, you realize it wasn’t the carnage that disturbed him – but his own frenzied hunger.

The thought sends a shiver down your neck. There are some scaled similarities to his behavior then and his behavior now when he feeds from you. He all but vibrates with energy before supping on your blood. He does a decent job at hiding it, but you still notice his breathing is ragged and his hands tremble when he goes to drink from you. And afterwards, he sways and laughs generously as though he's single handedly polished off a bottle of wine. It affects him like a drug, and you can’t help but wonder what it must feel like. You can’t help but wonder if it’s stimulating in other ways too.

~

When you're back at camp for the night, you have some red wine with the others to wind down. Two glasses in, you realize you’ve avoided talking to Astarion as much as you normally would today. A bit of guilt drips through you when you walk past his tent. He stands there now, the moonlight framing his elegant shape while he lazily thumbs through ‘The Roads to Darkness.’ Your eyes linger too long on the notch between his collar bones and the veins that swim up his forearms. Your feet bring you closer to him even though you have no plans of what to say.

He notices you, smiles, and closes his book to greet you. “Hello, my dear.”

 “Good evening, my friend~” You’re surprised at your own confidence, then you remember the wine.

“You seem in high spirits,” he cocks an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should have imbibed some of that Blackstaff after all.”

“Oh, you didn’t have any?” You’re surprised. He usually partakes.

“No, I’m afraid now might not be the best time to let my inhibitions~ get the better of me.” He looks at you suggestively. “Maybe in a few days… when I’m a little less distracted."

You’re once again confronted with the embarrassing reality that he might (must… your mind insists. He must…) sense the blood between your legs. It seems like he wants you to know it too. The thought shoots an arrow through your abdomen – pleasure laced with fear. You’d be lying if you said the thought of Astarion’s mouth moving below your neck didn’t occupy your mind at times. Would he enjoy tasting your blood mixed with the nectar of your arousal?

You give in to the thought momentarily, leaving you at a loss for words. Asking him exactly what is distracting him fills you with too much uncertainty to speak.

After several more silent seconds the only thing that comes to your mind is an invitation. A familiar one.

Hesitation cleaves between your mind and mouth. The offer you used to extend so effortlessly now sits heavy on your tongue. All the bravado the Blackstaff gave you earlier is gone in an instant. A thousand thoughts echo in your head at once before you feel the words finally spill from your lips:

“You can feed on me tonight if you want.”

He holds your eyes calculatingly for a moment before replying in a hushed voice. "Oh darling, only if you're sure you're feeling up to it. I wouldn't want to put you out, considering your condition." His tone feels genuine, warm even.

"I’m sure,” you say in an elevated pitch. Your mouth is so dry.

"Alright... well you know, we could meet in that same little plot you sniffed out last night. If you're still having trouble sleeping, of course."

You do not give yourself time to speculate what this could mean. The thought of being alone with him again makes your heart flutter violently. You feel as if you’re floating away from your own body when you hear yourself say, "That sounds good." 

He smiles. A glimpse of his tongue pressed between his teeth. "Until later then."

~

You lie awake in your bed roll, eyes glued to the night sky.  Your companions have surely all fallen asleep by now. It feels like you have waited an eternity.

You try to talk yourself down from the heady excitement bubbling inside you. There's no reason to react this way – you’ve done this plenty of times now. We're just doing it a different spot tonight, you tell yourself.

Nothing is going to happen. You’re just reading into things too much.

At no point in your conversations with Astarion did either of you express a want to be intimate, yet you feel the palpable anticipation of that possibility. How ridiculous. You’ve made assumptions about his intentions because of your little crush. That’s all. A fleeting interest, and one he likely does not reciprocate.  

Your anxiety surely has you overthinking his reaction to your period as well. This kind of blood is probably completely different from the fresh blood he’s always sniffing out anyway. It’s not like you’re bleeding out from a stab wound… even though it may feel a bit like it.

You glance at Astarion lying in his bedroll across the campfire. He lies curled up on his side so you can’t see his face – odd for him to sleep in that position. You climb to your feet quietly and make your way to the forest clearing. Your body feels much lighter than it did the evening before, disorienting-ly so.

It only takes a few moments to reach the grassy area from last night. Perhaps you’re walking a little faster than usual.

Attempting to relax, you elect to do more stretches until your companion arrives. It will help clear your mind and relieve any lingering muscle tension the cleric’s spell no longer helped with.

Before too long, Astarion’s footsteps can be heard approaching. He makes a bit of noise on purpose to alert you of his presence this time. You’re relieved he doesn’t choose to sneak up on you again. He catches you uncurling from a stretch when you see each other.

“Well, well. You remind me of a cat. So languid and flexible,” he says.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you laugh.

“You should.”

So forward. Your insides turn over at the affectionate notion and the sultry tone of his voice. It seems to undo all the self-talk you endured earlier.

“You remind me a bit of a cat too,” you tell him. “Nighttime prowls, stalking your prey and sneaking up on them…” Your tone is playfully pointed.

“Oh please! I didn’t startle you again tonight, did I?” he scoffs.

“No, just an observation. A compliment.” You can’t help it.

This earns a smile from him. “That’s very kind.”

The air waits expectantly for you to break the silence next.

“Should we…” you motion awkwardly toward the ground. Going about things this way is new.

He knows your meaning and doesn’t force you to finish the sentence. He simply graces you with another devilish smirk and follows your lead.

~

Strewn out on the forest ground is a blanket you brought from camp. You lie back on it and go to offer your neck, turning your nose to the side. Your heart beats quickly and your mouth secretly waters in anticipation. He kneels beside you and supports himself on his hands. But while descending toward you he pauses halfway down. You feel his silence and stillness stretch on longer than expected.

"Perhaps we should give this pretty neck of yours a break," he says quietly.

Surprised (and disappointed), you start to turn your head to face him, expecting him to pull back so your eyes could meet. Instead, he comes in close as if he still intends to bite you, blocking your movement.

Lips hovering just above your neck, his breath blooms down your chest. His upper body brushes against your breasts ever so slightly, sending warm electricity down your midsection and scattering through your abdomen. You stay melded together there for long seconds.

Does he mean...?

"What are you suggesting?" you finally ask breathlessly.

"Don't pretend you don't know." He hisses and peels himself up to find your eyes. There’s a small edge of urgency to his voice. "The - tsk… "

"...The scent of blood on you has driven me mad the past two nights," his voice wavers.

Of course...

You almost want to apologize, but the fact that he’s just confirmed your suspicion is staggering. You feel as though all the blood’s been drained from your body in an instant, and he hasn’t even bitten you yet. You’re frozen, grasping for words in vain while you stare into his crystal red eyes.

"And it’s not just the smell of your blood,” he continues. “-intoxicating as it is. I can't help but notice how much I've... enjoyed your company lately. I've taken many moments to wonder what it would be like to… enjoy more of you."

The words send desire rolling through your body, surging deep in your chest and spilling into your sacrum. Astarion’s never shied away from directing flirty comments at you, but his tone is often flippant, bordering on disingenuous at times. Now though, his words feel truthful, vulnerable.

It’s exciting to hear him acknowledge the chemistry you’ve begun to share. The heavy trepidation your attraction once carried suddenly feels much lighter, replaced with a small spark of confidence. The forest feels as though it's condensed around you, holding you both in an impenetrable cradle – quiet, shielded from the rest of the world. It’s safe to name your desires and share them here.

And Gods, to know without doubt that he’s also wondered what it would be like to fuck you… it fills you with such a renewed lust for him; you can’t deny it anymore.

"Do you wonder that too?" he asks gently.

You swallow and whisper hoarsely, "I do."

He shifts his weight closer to you again. A spike of anxiety jolts through you when you remember what started this conversation – the smell of your blood… an alternative to your neck…

An obscene vision of Astarion’s face licking blood from your cunt flashes in your mind. Your hips curl instinctively at the thought. A piece of your mind shatters from the possibility of it becoming a reality.

"Then, what say you? Are you inclined to get a little closer? As soon as tonight?” he presses further.

Wordlessly you place a hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking the corner of his jaw. His skin is surprisingly soft and cool to the touch. A mixture of excitement and unease floods your senses. It's so surreal to be here with him now when you've pushed away many daydreams of a moment like this.

“I would like that,” you admit.

He smiles at your affirmation and closes the gap between your lips. Arousal erupts from your veins once again when he kisses you. His lips are soft but with a tempest behind them. The desire in his kiss is tinged with melancholy, quiet desperation crashing against you. His tongue caresses yours in ways nobody’s has before. Both responding and leading. Moving along you like water currents.

He sinks into you to deepen the kiss. Your body responds in kind, free hand finding his waist and legs seeking to tangle with his own. Your bodies brushing against each other for the first time is almost too much to bear. If something as simple as this elicits such a strong reaction, you can hardly imagine how the rest of the evening will affect you.

His legs move between your own, his hips persuading your thighs to open. His body is so cool against yours, burning hot. The contrast makes you ache to press your core, the hottest place, against him. He must read your mind because he lets his full weight fall into you so your temperatures can mix. It’s now that you can feel he’s hard, pressed between your legs. He moans lewdly into your mouth as he steals your heat. The combination of stimuli begins to transform your arousal. Thoughts and time begin to slip from comprehension.

Your hands snake underneath his shirt to run your fingers against his midsection. You remove each other’s clothes and steal kisses between each garment. His hands skate up your obliques and trace circles around your breasts, making you arch into him like, well, a cat. You laugh to yourself.

He begins to slide down your body. You instantly miss having his pelvis pressed against your own. He drags his lips, tongue, and occasionally the tip of a sharp canine along your exposed breasts and midsection. His hands expertly unloop your belt and tug the pants off your thighs.

Gods, are we really doing this? The cool night air enveloping your bare skin sobers you a bit.

“Still sure you’re up for losing a little more blood?” Astarion whispers huskily.

You nearly choke on your own spit at the audacity.

“You really have a gift for disarming comments,” you tell him.

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” he says while thumbing at the hem of your underwear.

 He must notice how tense your muscles are because he pauses.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks earnestly.

“I… you’re not grossed out?” you wince through the question.

He blinks at you in disbelief. The concern in his features morphs into amusement.

“Darling… I’m a vampire. Did you forget?” he jokes. "No, I am not ‘grossed out’. I may not know what it feels like, but I do know it’s perfectly natural and…" His voice lowers, "it's something I’ve always been quite intrigued by the possibilities of, if I’m honest with you.”

Yet another indecent sensation spreads through your body at these words. How interesting. Relief, pride, and curiosity tangle themselves in your mind and you can’t help but start to smile.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” he asks as if there was something else he’d expected.

You nod, “Yes. I want this.” To reinforce the words, your body language relaxes, open and willing for him. You’ve suffered in anticipation of this for nearly 24 hours and it’s time to give in.

“Please,” you whisper, driving the point home. He seems to like this.

“Good,” his voice hums and his dark smile returns.

His fingers return to caress your body and hook over the waist of your panties. He tugs at the hem, up, towards your bellybutton, skillfully maneuvering the fabric to tease you and manipulate your flesh without directly touching. You sigh and tilt your hips to encourage him. He peels the garment off agonizingly slowly, savoring every moment more of your skin comes into view, until they’re stripped from your legs and discarded entirely.

He strokes the pads of his fingers in circles over your mons veneris. They skate closer and closer to your lips, driving you to insanity. Your hips strain into him, begging for his touch to finally reach your clit.

Instead, his hands slip under your knees to lift and bend your legs. Powerful emotions of arousal, embarrassment, and euphoria crash over you all at once when he pulls your knees apart and looks down at you. You can feel the cool air against your wetness now, unsure how much is blood or transparent arousal. His jaw hangs open slightly, and you swear his pupils dilate to an unnatural size as he takes in the sight. The entire position makes you feel deliciously vulnerable. You tremble under his gaze and fight the nagging instinct to clamp your legs shut as he hovers over you. Even harder you must fight it as his elbows come to the ground and his head lowers down between your thighs.

His mouth encloses around you slowly and deliberately, as if lacing his lips around a wine glass. He presses his tongue firm against your wetness, immediately releasing a long, debased groan that shatters any of your remaining insecurities.

You've already imagined what his voice must sound like during sex (it's impossible not to) but the reality of its sound is more guttural and feral than expected. The sound waves resonate through your body violently and the pleasure is so great you think you might be dead.

Alas, you are very much alive, lying on the forest floor with a vampire between your legs.

Astarion laps at every curve, everywhere the colors red and pink have stained your skin and further. His tongue moves with purpose and heavy pressure, seeking to consume every bit he can. Teeth skim against your soft flesh every so often, but never hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make you feel like an orange peel he seeks to scrape every last morsel of flesh and juice from.

He clutches at your ass cheeks while he feasts on you, thumbs pulling your center apart. He’s apparently licked your thighs and lips clean, because now he only pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you mercilessly with it. Every so often, he pauses this onslaught to pet your clitoris with the tip of this tongue, making your hips spasm and core tighten. The rhythm he teases you in makes you wetter and wetter. It’s the perfect vehicle to coax more blood from your pussy and into his mouth.

He removes himself for a moment and leans forward to kiss you again, lips slick with saliva and slightly swollen from friction.

He tastes of so many things at once. Saturated in the copper cherry flavor of your blood and the seasalt of arousal, your tongues meet again and again. All this on top of Astarion’s own lingering scent, herbal and citrusy, your senses spill over with colorful stimuli.

“Still having any doubts, my dear?” he whispers through a kiss.

“No. Gods, no,” you answer.

"I could stay latched to you all day like this..." he pants against your lips. "I would clean up every. drop. for you." His voice drips with lascivious melody.

"What's it like?" you ask excitedly.

He grins at your question. He loves that you would ask him this.

"Intoxicating,” he breathes through his teeth. “You are the most sinfully delicious fruit I've ever tasted. As if your blood alone didn't already tempt me."

"Is it enough?" you inquire. "…enough blood, I mean?"

"There's no such thing" he says. "but… I have an idea of how to encourage more out of you." His fingers graze down your belly and knead at the skin of your pelvic bone again. The motion indirectly pulling the hood of your clit back and forth.

You moan unabashedly and your spine contorts, begging once again for his hand to go lower. This time, he obliges and uses two slender fingers to tease the contours of your vulva. When they slip between your folds, a silent cry hitches in the back of your throat. He probes at your entrance gently at first, pushing just barely deeper than before with every motion. You writhe against him, trying to remind yourself to breathe.

Normally you would savor such attentive foreplay, but right now it's torturous. It’s overwhelming to even watch what he’s doing; your eyes keep fluttering shut. Every time his fingers delve deeper your desire swells greater. When his knuckles finally brush against your ass, he curls his two fingers inside you over and over, quickly. They rub firmly against your sensitive upper walls, dragging more slickness out of you.  

The sudden pressure and intensity in his movements surprises you. It moves you to open your eyes just long enough to find his own. His gaze holds you down, you feel almost charmed, petrified, dominated. Unable to look away. Rutilant eyes stare deeply back at you while he possesses you – they hold so much intensity and desire, all while focused on you.

It leaves you a bit awestruck, to have him both create and witness your ecstasy. To know you. The moment feels unexpectedly intimate until his hypnotic eyes finally release you.

His mouth joins his hand, immediately working your clit with persistence while his fingers pump inside you. You gasp, and a laugh of disbelief bubbles out of you. The combination of touches makes you feel delirious. His tongue roves over you mercilessly and his hand quickens its pace. Every muscle in your body is taut and frozen in fire. Your eyes find the stars when you feel yourself start to come apart on his fingers.

"Please don't stop," you cry quietly.

He doesn't. His fingers continue to stretch your walls and thrust against your core, tongue quick and unceasing against your pert clit. Tears well up in your eyes as the intensity of sensation builds to a white crescendo.  It falls over you like glass shattering in slow motion. He groans against your pussy as you come, undoubtedly feeling it clench desperately around his hand. It’s so intense you can’t help but cry out and grasp wildly at his back. You don’t care if your voice reaches the campsite. He slows his movements to keep rhythm with you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Such a pretty voice you have,” he removes his fingers and kisses the inside of your thighs.

He makes sure you're looking when he brings his digits to his mouth and licks the red stain clean from them. There’s no hesitation in the action, he laps your blood from his fingers as if it's honey, or spilled wine. He licks your center again too, purely for his own gain now, just for the taste.

“Gods,” You shudder at his touch, still hypersensitive from the climax he wrought through you.

A little less clouded, your vision sharpens on his form. You admire how striking he looks below you. Shirtless, broad shoulders holding the weight of your thighs. Pale moonlight painting every muscle. Your eyes pathing from his sharp collar bones down to his toned navel. He looks so beautiful. Already, you desire him again. More of him. Your eyes land on his cock, still erect and straining against his trousers. 

“That was amazing,” you finally manage to say. “I don’t think I’ll ever have another experience quite like that one.”

“I certainly don’t think so either,” he looks proud of himself. “But must we speak of it in the past-tense already?”

“You’re right. I misspoke.” Your foot gently drags over his clothed erection, in case your interest isn’t clear.

He looks at you knowingly and brings a hand to his waistband.

“Oh, good,” he smiles and unwraps himself from the fabric. "You’ll tell me if it’s uncomfortable, right?"

You nod. “Just start slow, if you can?”

Your eyes widen at his exposed length. His cock is longer and thicker than you'd expected, which is saying something since your imagination was already kind to him. Filthy anticipation coils inside of you.

“Of course. I already intended to take my time,” he whispers lowly.

He hooks his palms under your knees and pulls you apart for him. His body looms over you and the head of his cock grazes your entrance, teasing you with every microscopic movement. He rocks against you in little pulses that make you whine and twist impatiently. He starts to enter you, a little deeper with each push, teasing you just like he did with his fingers, driving you insane.

You can’t take much more, mewling underneath him while he torments you. Fully withdrawing with every stroke, the tip of his cock re-penetrates you again and again in an agonizing tempo. Shallowly fucking you with disciplined control. Before long though, you see his expression start to lose composure.

He straightens up to a kneeling position and beckons you to lift your lower body up to meet him.

“Feet on the ground, darling,” he orders you sweetly.

He scoops you up by your ass and levels your entrance with his cock again. Your upper back still lies on the ground, your body in a half bridge pose, fully exposed to him.

He hoists you against him and sheaths himself inside of you, finally forgoing the teasing. You nearly scream at the sudden weight of him inside you, stretching the entire depth of your walls. His hands pull you up and down on his cock, thumbs tickling the inside of your hipbones where he grips you tightly. You lose yourself again as he fucks you, overwhelmed with elation and disbelief.

Astarion groans obscenely. You notice he’s transfixed on watching himself impale you, gradually painting his cock with your cordial. His eyebrows furrow seriously and his mouth falls slightly open, taking in the sight. He seems to lose himself too, and you find yourself with your full back against the ground again, his body covering you, still inside you.

“You still smell so irresistible.” A hand finds the base of your skull and clutches at your hair. He pulls and forces you to bear your neck for him. It sends a little jolt of fear through your body initially, but you relax into his grasp after a moment.

“Can't get enough?” you ask, just barely managing to show some cheek. He continues to fuck you gently through the exchange. Were his strokes any closer together, it wouldn’t be possible to form words.

“Never,” he hisses against your ear.

His lips graze down your throat, pausing to hover just above where he always drinks from you. “May I?”

“Do it,” you plead.

His fangs tease your skin for several more strokes before they finally drive through you, and as soon as they pierce your skin he fucks you faster. His cock beats against the back of your walls again and again. He moans desperately into your neck while he bleeds you. You’d call the sound pathetic, were it not for the way his teeth held you down like a predator killing its prey. Your cunt clenches around him tightly in response, mirroring his jaws.

The wound to your neck is just barely endurable at first, but it starts dissolving into pleasure almost instantly. Now coupled with the adrenaline of having sex with him, the feeling is near mind-altering. It hypnotizes you. Possesses you.

He drinks from you hungrily, sucking and gulping you down every few seconds. The wet sound of him swallowing can be heard right underneath your ear. You both whimper frantically into each other, ecstasy building quickly. His cock starts to hit you harder, stretch you wider. He unlatches himself from your neck, gasping for air. Blood drips from his lips and down his chin when you see his face. His pupils are blown out. It looks as though he’s trying to form words but they won’t escape his mouth.

He only manages a, “Gods… I’m…” before stuttering out a loud groan, abandoning his thought and dignity. You can feel him throb inside you eagerly, struggling against your muscles squeezing him in as he climaxes. He thrusts into you wildly a few more times before shuddering and cautiously falling into you.

His body covers you for a short moment, your chests rising and falling into each other as you both catch your breath. He then rolls himself off of you and lies by your side.  

“Apologies” he breathes out heavily, wiping blood from his jaw. “I lost myself there for a moment… I’m infertile, so no need to worry. But I should have told you.”

“That’s okay,” you whisper. You’d barely considered it - too drunk on pleasure to think rationally.

The sweet earthy aroma of the dampened grass drifts into your nostrils. Lying there naked, sticky and sweaty, anxiety slowly starts to creep back under your skin. No doubt this could complicate things going forward… especially if your attraction goes beyond the physical like you suspect.

You hear a wet sound beside you and turn your head to see Astarion licking his palm. His eyes meet you while he sucks at the skin between his thumb and index finger. He smiles and, to your surprise, gently pulls you into him. The smell of savory herbs and citron tickles your nose; his scent is already growing to feel familiar.

“I’d like to share a little more of your heat, if it’s alright with you,” he says quietly. His lips brush the hairs on your head.

“I’m happy to share,” you say through a smile, secretly delighted to be curled up in his chest.

His fingers trace your back lazily and you reflect on the past two nights (mostly this one). As amazing as tonight has been, the fear of your feelings growing stronger from this gnaws at you. But you gather the courage to push your insecurities aside. Testing the waters with a little suggestion:

“Provided we don’t die from being turned into mind flayers or some other horrors, I think we should do this again next month.”

You feel him smile against your crown.

“Why wait until next month?”

~END~

Thank you for reading :>