#this is my first gale fic!!! i hope its good'

[mahiiimahiiii]

its here!!!

An:/ will I ever finish a fic that I start? We will never know. Trying to keep this short and saucy. Maybe it will become a series…? Modern au Baldur’s gate, this is bisexual cat dad gale I mentioned earlier this week, feedback would be appreciated. (first time writing gale woohooo!!)

Tdlr: you thought that I was feelin’ you? Nah that rizzard’s a munch.

word count: around 4k

(this will have a named durge :9, her name is wynne and I post her often, but shes a brown drow with shoulder length curly hair and heterochromia due to her glass eye.)

Cw: cunnilingus, light consciousness, sleepy sex, breakfast in bed? More like breakfast and headdd. Possessiveness, previous substance usage, previously established relationship, durge is mentally illest, slight cervix brusing, hurt and comfort, biting/claiming, we must take it easy so gale doesn’t blow up.

Smothered in a deck of pillows you laid at the prodigal wizard’s bedside, a career you thought merely extinct in the modern era. A purveyor and ever the pioneer he was- integrating his magic into online technology, now consulting other businesses on its integration; Gale Dekarios was always ahead of the curve.

You didn’t think of him a fan of minimalism, his rooms each eggshell white with delicate paintings in dark oak frames. The only things maximalist was his collection of ancient tomes lining the walls of his cozy apartment, a certain fire hazard for one too prone to burning things.

He had worried, inviting you into his home. At one point you had invited him to stay at your home, a shabby apartment in disarray nestled in the lower city of Baldur’s gate- the political district. You hadn’t taken your meds in months, too busy to fill out a prescription- you snapped. It was terrifying and beautiful all together.

He called the pharmacy after that, setting alarms and reminders in your phone to take them. You had slept soundly with a little coaxing, your face softened into peaceful smile, surrounded by sensory items galore. He kissed you when you woke up and cried and apologized for your behavior. Your lips were salty from tears, but that made them sweeter.

He told you not to apologize, he promised he would take care of you.

“It’s rotten work” you had cried, and he laughed.

Not to me. Not if it’s you.

That was the first time your lips uttered an “I love you.” His heart sang- he gushed to tara when he got home afterwards, plucking out stacks of classical romance.

He had much he wanted to share with you.  How he admired you.

He had told you as much.

His bedroom now, had touches of your presence. A couple of sweaters hung in his closet, perfume and soaps on his counter, meds, cup of water, and eyedrops on his bedside table. The door creaked open revealing the multi-colored tressym, the lady of the house, Tara. She chirped in acknowledgement before hopping onto the bed, noises from outside the door got a bit louder. The smell of coffee wafted in, notes of vanilla and cinnamon hit the air.

Tara began to purr loudly, nestled in the cleave of your thighs; she nipped at the hand closest to her. “Have you taken your meds yet?” she inquired, her voice was stern and motherly.

“jus’ gonna’ now.” Your voice slurred, the sleep obvious from your voice. You groped for the pill bottle, holding the tab down and twisting off the lid. You pulled out one and a half tabs, washing them down with water. you grabbed the eyedrop bottle, filled with a tonic gale made for you, compatible for a magic eye. You laid back, dropping the liquid into your eyes and rolling it around in the socket.

Your vision opens as you rub at your eyes, adjusting to sit up in bed. You combed a hand through your hair, knots popping through your anxiety ridden strokes.

“Was your sleep alright dear? You look rather vexed.” Tara was busy grooming, but kind enough to check in with you.

You laughed softly “vexation is a constant state of my life, but I appreciate the thought. Yes, it was fine, thank you. Just distant thoughts about previous me’s.” you rubbed your eyes again, “have you seen our wonderful gale?”

She tutted, stretching out over your legs and flopping to the side “he has requested you stay in bed. But- he is busy as a bee, as always. She began to purr again, rubbing her nose against the sheets. “Consider me your roadblock from getting up.”

You sank back into the pillows staring at the swirling texture of the ceiling. It was stuck with small glow stars that never got charged. Near the head of the bed was a small planetary mobile, little bells sang out from the room’s small fan. Gale likes his white noise.

A rap at the door broke you from your thoughts. Gale’s curious eyes peered over the door, crinkling as he broke into a smile. “Good morning my star, I hadn’t realize you had woken up already.” He wore a loose crew neck shirt, embroidered with flowers at the hems, his pants a taught cotton blend- ones he would call cozy dress pants, and ones you’ve seen him fallen asleep in. his hair was tied half up half down in a spikey bun, strands of steel grey hair glowed with he light of the sun. He held a mug in his hand, one of his kitsch collections. “I got a dig bick” it read.

He set it on the nightstand, caging you in for a sweet kiss. His thumb stroked the outline of your chin mindlessly, savoring the warm way his chest tightened at your tired and happy eyes. He tasted of caramel coffee and apple slices. He pulled away from your grasp, slightly breathless.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have come checked in on you sooner. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You could compete for the most beautiful creature in the heavens.”

“Certainly not compete- I am the most beautiful creature.”

He chortled heartily, kissing your lips gently once more. “You don’t know how right you are, my love.”  Gale absentmindedly drew patterns onto your skin, his gaze gentle, yet longing. “Rest a bit more- I have some surprises planned.” With a kiss to your brow he pulled away, your skin felt flush with warmth.

You settled into your pillows, cupping the mug gingerly. You took a few sips. Brown sugar, ¼ milk and ¾ coffee. He always noticed the small details; it was comforting on your tongue. A small sigh of delight escaped your lips. For what good you did to deserve this- you don’t exactly know. Perhaps the gods favored you somewhat to be blessed with such a partner like gale. 

The humming resumed from the kitchen, a hiss and a gentle swear as you heard the oven door click shut. Then the tap ran as he sighed out. He snacked on something as he gathered dishes, a bowl set to the floor, Taras’s breakfast. She stretched against your leg’s wings flapping out, and tail flicking idly. She chirps a couple of times before hopping off the bed.

The gentle music of plates approached your door, along with your beloved wizard, tray in hand.

“ta daaah!!” he lifted the tray in a slight ‘come see’ gesture. You took another deep sip of coffee before setting the mug down.

“Gale- you really didn’t have too.” A slight pout formed on your lips, setting the mug aside you placed your hands in your lap.

“Nonsense. It gives me great joy to make your life easier.” He paused, setting the tray down on the small desk in the corner. “It frustrates me, occasionally- that you wouldn’t deem yourself worthy of that sort of love, that sort of worship.” He crawls towards you on the bed, his tossed hair and neat beard framing his chin and cheeks. “I adore you.” He gently cupped your cheek, straddling your settled legs. “Let me worship you in the way I was made too”

Selune take the wheel, how your heart fluttered at his honeyed words! You tilted your head squinting slightly, processing in a way you only knew how to. “This may seem impulsive, or the urges doing the talking but forgive me. Worship me with sinew, carrion, and pools of warm blood…?”

He chucked gently, tilting your head up slightly. “Less bloody, though it can be dependent on your moon sickness.” He was gentle and patient, only activating at your confirmation. His gaze soft on yours, deep and inviting. “Let me know, I will only do so at your words.”

His breath smelled like cinnamon and caramel, skin scented like warm patchouli and rose. He kissed the insides of your wrists, your knuckles, and tips of your fingers.

“Yes, id like that.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d known it. Warm lips met your skin, kissing his way down your arm, his lashes brushed against you with every kiss. Warm pride surged through your belly, you were his, and he was yours.

You grasped at the back of his head, pulling him into your embrace. Gales legs shifted under yours, bending at the knee to allow you to rest your legs around his waist. He braced a hand behind your head, careful about dropping his head on yours. Your lips moved sloppily, he still kissed like an awkward teen- which ultimately you found endearing. His stubble brushed against your skin. one of hands cupping your jaw, he separated slightly breathless. “Sorry, orb. It’s getting a little tight in my chest. Mind if I…take it a bit slower?”

“You needn’t apologize my love.” You ran a finger against his bottom lip, “I’m always willing to go slow. Your company is something to be savored.”

“I was hoping id be more sweet.” He giggles at his own bad joke, lips returning to yours. He hummed into the kiss, the wizard’s tongue ran over your teeth gingerly, asking for entrance. You obliged parting your mouth slightly, he tilted his face his nose brushing against yours. You ran your tongue against the ridges in his mouth, he let out a low groan his tongue retreating into his. Gale’s breath was wonderfully heated.

“You are quite delicious my dear.”  He grinned shifting his weight to move about. “I would like to- taste you a bit more if that’s alright.”

“oho!” you grin twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. “Shall I be finding out about your most practiced tongue this morning?”

“The very same” he beamed, crinkles forming around his eyes, he bends down kissing the column of your neck, his teeth gently grazing and nipping at the skin. “That is- if you’d like.”

You gave him a quiet nod, a little nervous to fully admit what you’d like. His lips trailed further down over your night shirt, his hands found the edge of the hem, gingerly pulling up his eyes flickered back to you again to check in.

you nodded once more.

The blissful sting of his teeth at your sides, he favored biting you around your hips and waist, a gentlemanly move and to lay proof of claim. Bites upon the neck were simply too gouache for him. You could feel the squeeze of your walls as he kissed his way back down your sternum, lips soft as ever he was a tease. You sighed when he made his way back to your thighs planting a kiss on each of them. He adjusted so he was under the covers, the top of his head tenting the blanket. His eyes claimed yours again, a swirling of questions in his deep brown eyes. You smiled, his gaze then relaxed and lowered.

He ran his tongue on the outline of slick in your underwear, electing a low whine from you. He smiled, hooking his fingers into your rubber band and kissing your skin as it was revealed. His glasses slid down his nose, the lenses fogging up from his breath. He pulled off the garment, a groan rumbling through his chest.

“By the weave… you are absolutely stunning.” His padded fingers grazed against your cunt, sweeping the juices onto his digits. He sucked at his fingers; eyes clamped shut to savor your taste. He exhaled, lips forming a delicious pout.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia…” his voice was soft, almost bashful. “I am blessed to be continuously surprised by the joys of the mortal realm.” His hands found the side of your thighs, hair fanning in front of his face. You reached out brushing it behind his ear, carefully running a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his head. The tip of his tongue traced shallow outlines around your clit, hot velvety breath layered against your thighs. He began to kitten lick up your sex, soft sighs of delight as he tasted you. He hovered over your clit, mouth latching onto the sensitive bud, his eyes caught yours again, the corners crinkling in delight at your slightly disheveled state. Breath catching in your throat, hand on his head, and heel of your foot braced against his back. The sunlight made your skin glow, eyes dark and pupils blown. Silver hair danced along your cheeks, perhaps this is what the visage of an angel looked like.

He swirled his tongue around you, mindful of suction and teeth. Using a hand to push up his glasses, glancing up occasionally. He let go of your clit, listening to the rush of air from your lungs. He muttered an incantation under his breath.

You watched as he worked, his strong nose pushed against your clit, his thick tongue dipping into your core. His hands cupped your hips and ass like he hasn’t eaten in a week, letting out a soft groan as he rutted against the mattress. Then you felt it, a cool touch on your inner thigh as he came up to breathe. His beard was stained with you, a signal to your arousal. You shivered under his gaze; the cool grasp felt wonderful against your puffy clit. It trailed down to your folds, gently prodding at your entrance. You groaned at the intrusion, cool invisible digits spearing your insides.

“Mage hand” the prodigy hummed, kissing the sides of your chin, fingers idly rubbing shapes into your clit. You groaned into his mouth as he peppered kisses onto your lips, his hands left your clit to pull off his shirt and pants, an obvious tent present in his boxers. He took off his glasses and untied his bun, his hair falling against his shoulders. It had gotten a bit longer, just dusting over his shoulders. Your lashes fluttered as the digits curled inside of you, stretching you gently.

“You are a work of art, my love.” He palmed his crotch, fingertips tracing against the swell of your breast. The hand works in tandem with his; slow tantalizing pumps against your inner walls. You squeezed down against the phantom feeling, the wizard sighing with delight. He kissed down your skin again, mouth back against your clit working to free you of the taught knot in the base of your stomach. One hand balanced on your hip the other under his waistband tugging at his shaft. Gasps escaped your lips, as you melted into his hands. He seemed smug and utterly pleased when his eyes met yours again.

The stimulation against your walls faded, a whine ripping though your lips. He gently shushed you, crawling back up your body, kissing every freckle or mole he came across.

“Now, my love, are you ready for me?” his words ached in the right places, dripping with arousal and tinged with need. He clumsily slid out of his boxers, tossing them somewhere in the room. His body has softened from time sat still, less definition from his college days and a soft slope of a belly coated in a fuzzy happy trail. He was slim- certainly, but he wasn’t fit either- Being cared for has that effect on people.  You slid a hand down his hip, squeezing his muscular thigh on its way down back to your side. His hips canted slightly under your light touch, biting his inner cheek. “Oh, the things you do to me, my star, my precious little love.” His words flushed as pink as his cheeks.

“I’m so glad only I get to view you like this, your beauty- in the most natural state- forgive me a moment- I must- “he let out a shuddering exhale, catching his breath. “Ah. Can’t speak much when focus goes somewhere else” his eyes were apologetic.

“Would you prefer…being on bottom?” your concern evident from your voice.

“That would be wise.” He shifted to the center of the bed amongst the clouds of pillows, his hair settling haphazardly as its own halo.

You ran a hand down his chest, admiring your lovers’ body. Your hand cupped his hip as you clambered over him. His knees knocking together as you used them as leverage onto him. Gently you tested him against your entrance, beads of pre-cum welling from his slit. Every muscle of the man beneath you tensed in anticipation. Your hips shook slightly at the awkwardness of the position, head of his member broaching your folds. The insides of you felt plush and velveteen, as you took him inside of you, the most pathetic sound ripped its way from your throat, hanging in the air. Your toes twitched, a sigh shared in tandem at the hilt, one hand over his quick heart.

The outlines of the dark round tattoo glowed faintly, he spasmed underneath you, thighs tensing and untensing. This felt sweeter than any sex before it, each time you burned anew for him. Each ridge upon him your body memorized, cream and pink his skin ran. You kissed his adams apple as it bobbed, his breath ragged from adjusting.  He screwed his eyes shut; face crinkled like crepe paper. You cupped his chest, testing a roll. It stung beautifully against your walls; warmth flooded your sides as you clenched down on him. His hands found your sides, pinching and cupping your ass, gentle to assist your bounces. He exhaled again muttering several incantations, cool slow buzzing ran over your clit.

“Oh, my love- how immaculate you look- “he sighed pushing up onto his toes, cementing you further onto him. His thighs wobbled as he speared you, aching to get every inch of himself into you. The head of his cock pulsed against your cervix, finding spongy spots within you. Your brain bubbled, cheeks flushed and radiating heat, a slight ring to your ears.

He stared at you with eyes you could never get tired of, pools of honey browns devouring your figure. Every flash of your image- ingrained into his memory.

He pulled you onto him, lips too quick to clamp down on yours. Your breath vanished between his teeth, nipping at your lower lips. His thrusts were desperate, earning a few moans from your lips. He captured them in return, his lips greedy for your sound. Your legs wormed around his, toe to toe. He set a bruising pace; his tip gently nestled against your cervix. You clamped and fluttered around him, cupping his chin and hand clamped in his hair.

He gasped for air, lips bruised “bhaal below- I can feel you- “he bit his lip, “gods your so close- so close and so good to me.”  His hips pulsed erratically, tips of his toes sliding against the mussed sheets. “Beautiful- my star you are excellent-!”

No words fell from your mouth, just a coagulation of sighs running from your throat. Your core felt ironclad and taught, your cup overflowed with him around.  The base of your hips ached from the muscle usage. His warm hand settled on your hips, his dulled nails digging into your plush flesh.

“Your so close- my darling, my love- “his words slurred, head tilted back to gulp back air. “Gods- come for me my star- I need you so bad-!” his voice slightly broke. Your mouth found the base of his throat clamping and sucking at his favorite spot. Quickly, he shoved you down as you crumbled into him, noses pressed together. Waves of heat pulsed through your core, sending his spent seed into you. He twitched and pulsed as he pulled you close, his chest gently glowing purple.

And then there was silence, blessed waves of relief as the shocks ran through your body. He deflated, sweat sticking to his forehead, curling the baby hairs around his scalp. You ached. Again, he was the first to stir a hand gently combing through your scalp. A gentle laugh erupting from his chest.

“Well, my dear- you are a gift that keeps on giving.” He hummed, closing his eyes. “I am spent- I don’t think id like to move for the rest of the day- I mean, if you’d like to, that would be our plan for today.”

You hummed in response, shifting your hips. “We forgot a towel.”

“No need to fret my dear…” he reached towards a drawer in his nightstand, pulling out a rag. “Always prepared.”

He helped you up, a whine ripping through your chest at the removal. Settling you back onto his chest, the rag settled comfortably between your thighs. He ran his hands up and down your back, tracing the dimples of your thighs, each ridge of bone and settled muscle. He stretched, reaching for his kindle on the bedside. Bracing an arm on your back. His skin smelt like lilies, soft and smooth under you. You listened to his dull heartbeat, peacefully drifting off in his arms.

[reverieblondie]

Late Night Dip

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Fingering, Tail play, Teasing, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (Please wrap before you tap), G-whiz Position.

Summary: Cal and Lia are worried about their brother, he's just so stressed and needs a break! Good thing you have an idea that could help...

A/N: Rolan is hot, and I'm not going to apologize. I want to give him everything. More fics of my other favorite fictional men coming soon!

Word Count: 4,774

“Please, you have to get him out of that tower! You're the only one who he will listen to!” 

You almost spit out your drink from Cal’s comment and look at him bewildered, “Uh, You must be confused you're talking about Rolan? Mr. Know it all? The arch workaholic? He's not going to listen to me.” 

Lia leans against the bar dramatically, “Could you just give it a try, please? We have tried everything we could think of to get him to take some time off to destress but nothing has worked. We are hoping that because he has a soft spot for you he will listen to you.”

A scoff leaves you, “Rolan does not have a soft spot for me…” 

Lia and Cal share a quick look before Cal speaks up again. 

“Just one try, for his health. I swear every time I’m near him I can feel his tension radiate off him, take him out somewhere so he can unwind, and if he rejects you I will buy your drinks for two weeks.” 

Closing your eyes you consider the chore. Seeing Rolan isn’t a bad thing you love getting any excuse to see that handsome face. Though pulling him from his work would not be an easy feat, but…you do enjoy teasing him, those looks he gives you when you get under his skin always sends a rush of heat to rise to your cheeks. Plus if he is overworking himself you can’t let that happen to your favorite wizard (sorry Gale). Maybe this would be a good push to your friendship to move to more…romantical areas….plus there was that spot you wanted to take him and tonight is as good of a time as any. If all else fails and Rolan heartbreakingly rejects you for a night outing at least you will get free drinks for the next two weeks to wash away the pain.

“Okay, I will handle it, but be ready to have to buy a lot of ale for the next two weeks Cal,” you say as you gather your stuff and step towards the doors. Cal and Lia watch as you walk out of the tavern into the night towards Ramazith Tower. 

“Think there's a chance he will reject her and we will have to deal with a tense Rolan?” Cal asks Lia worriedly. 

Lia scoffs and settles herself on a seat at the bar, “Please, Rolan can’t deny her, and even if he wants to pretend he can, do you think she’s going to take no for an answer?” 

“Those two are really into each other huh?” 

“Yeah, Let's hope one of them finally realizes it and does something about it tonight. I have a bet with Larkissa that Tav makes the first move, and I want my 50 gold.”

Wow, they were right…he looks so stressed.

Your eyes watch as Rolan's taut back stays hunched over the journal he is scribbling in as he studies an old-looking tome. The only part that moves on him is his hand and he writes in a frantic motion. His golden eyes peering at the tome then back to his journal as he continues, it's clear he has been at this for a while. 

Leaning against the doorway you study his profile for a bit longer. Hair was done in its elaborate bun to hide his ears, brows underneath his well-kept horns furrowed in irritation, and the most perfect nose in all of Faerûn. Let's see if we can’t get him to scrunch it in irritation. 

“And what happened to the master of Ramaziths Tower? Worked so hard he died from stress, he was so young…” 

Rolan seems surprised for a moment before he turns his head to see your smug grin, this earns you an eye roll,  “What happened to the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Oh, she pushed her luck too many times and was thunder waved out of Ramazith's Tower.” 

Sontering in you wave him off dismissively, “See you're so tired you're unable to come up with your own insults. That means it’s time you take a break.” 

Scoffing, he turns away from you going back to scribbling away, “You sound like Cal and Lia…” 

“They did send me to get you.”

“Of course they did” 

Getting closer you see the swarm of papers and books he’s been busying himself with, ignoring it all you sit on his desk and look down at him as he writes. He seems to look at your legs for a moment before shaking his head and going back to what he was writing. Usually, he would be nagging you about your poor manners and the fact that you are bothering him, must be too tired to fight. You watch him as he slowly starts up his work again trying to ignore your ass so close to his hands crushing his papers. His nose is starting to scrunch and you can only smile with a sweet taunting hum. Crossing your legs gets his attention one more time before he mumbles something to himself. 

“Work, work, work, write, write, write, Rot, rot, rot” you chant in a sing-song voice as you shake your foot bumping him slightly.  

“Must you annoy me?” he grumbles

“You're just annoyed because you're so pent up with stress, come on let's go out.” 

Rolan looks up at you and furrows his brows, nose still scrunched, “I’m annoyed because of everyone constantly pestering me when I have a thousand things to do. I’m not going anywhere and I am not…pent up…” 

You let out a loud sigh, “Oh come on Rolan you're so pent up with stress you could pop, just a small break, a nice stress-free night will do you some good, then we will leave you alone to be the great grump of Ramaziths. Plus I have something I want to show you that I found the other day.” 

Rolan keeps his head down scribbling, “It will be really fun.” you coo

He continues to ignore you. You frown before leaning down to his ear. “Please…” you whisper softly

Rolan stops his writing and groans. 

“Come on Rolan! Just a bit further!” 

“Where the hells are you taking me!” 

“It's a surprise! Now hurry up!” 

You're both running in the forest outside of the gate, you're ahead of him leading the way but you can hear the snapping of twigs and slight infernal cusses as he tries to keep up. You can't help but laugh as he continues his grumpy pursuit. Finally, you reach your destination with a bright smile on your face as you wait for Rolan to emerge from the thicket. Biting your lip in expectation you bounce on the heels of your feet, this will be perfect…

You had found this place on one of your walks and knew that you would have to come back, and bringing Rolan only made it all the better. A secret hot spring is hidden away in the thick forest, perfect for two. The water looks as if it glows a cyan blue, it seems to glitter underneath the full moonlight. Your eyes watch as the steam from the water rises to the vast starlit sky. This will be perfect for relieving stress. 

Finally, you hear him come into the clearing, his once pristine appearance is now a mess with twigs in his now messy hair and robes covered in dirt from where he must have fallen trying to keep up with you. The smile on your face never falters and he approaches you with an unamused look. He looks past you at the heated water and raises an eyebrow.

“A hot spring? You know if you wanted to bathe…” 

Rolan's words halt as you start loosening the strings of your bodice. Looking up you meet his golden eyes and smirk at his surprised face as you drop your bodice to the ground. His eyes widen and his lips slightly part before he turns away quickly. 

“Come on Rolan, a late night dip under the stars. You can’t beat that. Plus I bet once that water hits your skin all your stress will melt away.”

You start stripping off your undershirt quickly followed by your pants. Your eyes watch Rolan's back as it seems to tense at each sound of your clothes rustling and falling. His tail whips around seemingly uncontrollably, before wrapping around his leg, you're still trying to figure out if it is from excitement or irritation.  

“You have been traveling with Halsin for too long…” 

You laugh at the comment, “Well, he is rather wise, learned a lot from him while on our journey…”

Rolan's tail twitches before he turns around quickly to face you. His eyes widen as he sees your scantily clad undergarments, not like you went and changed before going to fetch him…

He turns back around quickly “Like what…” he mutters, is he? Jealous… 

“Just…things…” you say almost tauntingly. You just can’t resist, from the moment you two started becoming friends you two have been taunting and teasing at every opportunity.  Sometimes you don’t know if you want to punch him or kiss him. Though now…you can only think of one thing…

Taking off your undergarments and then by complete ‘accident’ you toss them towards his feet. He looks down at them for a second before you watch his tail rise slightly before falling back down and lifting his head to look up at the starry sky. 

“I’ve learned things from my other companions as well…”  you say softly, almost too sweetly

A nervous laugh seems to rise harshly from his chest. Slowly you approach Rolan, you're being extremely quiet and you're completely bare. “Like Astarion for example” Right behind him now you look up at his tightly set bun, and with a quick moment you pluck the tie keeping it up out, That should loosen him some, “taught me to sneak up on people to take things.”

Rolan starts to turn his head but seems to stop himself remembering you're now naked. Not that you would mind his golden eyes taking you all in. With his hair now down you finally see his sharply pointed ears, they are cute and with their marron coloring at the tips completely giving away how embarrassed he is at the moment. Part of you wants to take the opportunity to be naughty and nibble on his ear while playing with his loose hair. Best not to push your luck however.  

Proud of successfully teasing him you decide to finally get into the water. Stepping carefully into the calm water the heat craseing your skin immediately relaxes you. The water is the perfect temperature and you quickly sink in and swim around enjoying yourself with pleasant sighs. Turning your head you see Rolan watching with what you think is a smile on his face.  

“Come on in, the water is great!”

“Dry land is also great.” 

“So you're just going to let me swim alone?” you watch as Rolan thinks for a moment “It's very relaxing…” you coo 

He finally sighs, “Fine…just to make sure you don’t drown out here…” 

“Lucky me ~”

Instead of ripping his clothes off quickly and jumping into the water ready to confess his desires to you as you hoped, Rolan instead brings his hands to undo his collar slowly and methodically. Somehow the slow stripping is not only frustrating you but also exciting you, the robe rolls off his shoulders and he takes the time to fold it up neatly. A tightening in your lower stomach is driving you mad, how hard is it to undress quickly? 

Opening your mouth to give him a hard time your comment gets halted in your throat. Rolan lifts his red undershirt over his head exposing his chest lined with beautiful ridges. The ridges seem to lead your eyes along his surprisingly athletic build, the moonlight shining on his body showing off just how toned he is; tense muscles being stretched as he raises his arms to relieve some tension from being so confined. He’s been hiding all this under those robes? That's just criminal…

Then his hands go for his belt and you're completely caught in a trance mouth slightly parting as he undoes the first button, seeming to remember your presence in the shining spring his golden eyes lock with yours and all your previous nerve leaves as your heart lurches. Quickly you turn around breaking his gaze, you swear you hear a slight chuckle before the clearing of his throat. Closing your eyes you chastise yourself for being a pervert, but that still doesn’t stop the image of his bare body replaying over and over in your mind running through all the possibilities the night could hold.  

Sounds of sloshing water along with a sigh breaks you from your thoughts. Turning you can’t help but smile at what looks like a very blushy Rolan, feeling nice you give him a round of applause as he settles in the warm water.

Rolan rolls his eyes, “Your an idiot” 

“What, I thought you liked adoring applause?” 

Rolan ignores your comment, shaking his head as he cups the shimmering water in his hands. You take the time to admire him trying to relax the best he can, his loose hair hovering softly over his shoulders, you see that not only do his freckles decorate his face, but they are also peppered against his tense shoulders. With a quick motion, Rolan brings the spring water towards his face, rubbing the water against his face then keeping his hands over his eyes for a long moment. You watch him confused by him keeping his eyes covered.  

“What are you doing?” 

A sigh leaves his nose before he responds, “Relaxing”

Getting closer you do a testing poke to his left shoulder, and an irritated groan leaves his chest. 

“You don’t seem relaxed…” 

“I’m working on it.”

“Maybe you should try swimming around then?”

Rolan pulls his hands from his eyes, golden irises glow as his ardent gaze lands on you. Suddenly you're hyper-aware of how close you two have drifted and how bare you are right underneath the cyan water. All your previous nerve starts to sink away being replaced by a growing flush to your skin. 

Rolan lifts a brow leaning down slightly to take in your face, you put on your best poker face to seem unbothered through Rolan quickly sees past it and is ready to tease you, “Heat finally getting to you?” 

“No”

“Then why are you so red?” 

“Why are you so red?” 

Rolan folds his arms over his chest and you roll your eyes, “redder than usual” 

“What do you expect? It’s hot.” 

“Aren't tieflings like…heat resistant?” 

Rolan goes to argue back but he seems to be unable to think of anything so he turns his back towards you muttering under his breath. 

Turned away, you trace the paths left by his infernal ancestors. He seemed to have relaxed when teasing you, but now…

“You can feel the tension radiating off….” 

Rolan's ears seem to perk up and he glances at you. 

You sigh, “I was hoping to help…”

“I…you…” Rolan sighs collecting his thoughts, a cuss slips his lips before he starts again, “You are helping…I just…” Rolan takes his hand to cover his eyes again, “I don’t know how to let myself relax…” 

Carefully you reach your hands to rub his back, he practically feels like a board, so tense under your fingers. You lean your head to rest on him.

“Rolan, let me…try something….” 

You continue to rub his back and shoulders gently working out the knots. Right as he seems to start to relax he tenses up again. A soft hum leaves you as you continue to work down his back. Dropping from his shoulders you use his ridges to guide you, softly you rub his shoulder blades feeling the sharp tips. When you touch them you feel Rolan tense and lean forward slightly. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

Rolan looks over his shoulder, his eyes moving from your flushed shoulders following the drips running back into the cloudy water keeping the rest of you hidden, only enough for his imagination to run wild. “No, I’m just…not used to being touched like this.” 

“I could stop…”

You keep your hands on his spine, trying to savor this moment in case he says yes. You close your eyes and keep your hands as gentle as possible hoping he won't say yes, that he won’t move away. Just keeping this moment touching his warm skin for a bit longer…

“Don’t stop…it's helping me” 

Biting down the smile on your lips you continue to rub his back blindly moving through the water. Over time you get lower slightly rubbing above the base of his tail. A steady sigh leaves Rolan's chest as you continue to work. You even feel all your nerves starting to settle in this perfect moment, then suddenly a wrapping around your calf startles you enough to let out a yipe. Rolan, snapping back to reality goes to retreat his tail and move away from you, but before he can run away you quickly grab his wrist. He pauses for a second, then he turns towards you, your eyes wide, lips trembling for the words to say.  

It only takes a moment before Rolan pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you suddenly and burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“D-don’t be…” 

Rolan moves his face from your neck and you feel your body heating up as his shining eyes watch you, slowly roaming from your eyes to your glossy lips, then down to where your chest is pressing against his. 

Rolan's eyes linger for a moment before he brings his head down to whisper, “You feel like you're burning up…” 

All you can do as you feel his clawed hands moving slowly down your back is nod and lean into him further. Touching him now he seems much more relaxed, more open, confident. Right as you're settling yourself on his chest you whisper the words he’s been waiting to hear. 

“Kiss me…” 

Quickly you feel his hand lifting your chin and then meeting your lips for an almost too eager kiss, but you had been wanting this equally as bad. Rolan's lips are soft and assertive as he leads you through the kiss. The familiar feeling of his tail sliding up your leg no longer draws a gasp from you but a wanting moan, craving for his warmth to further engulf you. Rolan, always striving for more, lifts your arms to wrap around his neck as he slips his smooth tongue in your mouth to get a taste of you. It's deep, and teasing as it slides against yours making you meet his enthusiasm, and driving you to want more. Before long you find yourself with fist fulls of his loose hair while his sharp nails dig into the fat of your ass, Pressing you into his hardened shaft, it practically throbs on your thigh. 

As you start breaking from the kiss to fully catch your breath Rolan bites on your lower lip, careful not to break the delicate skin, only enough pressure to have you whine before he’s releasing it from his sharp teeth. You're a panting mess feeling like your body is on fire, the spring, his hot touch, your blazing arousal dripping down your thighs; it's all starting to be too much for you. Rolan brushes his nose to yours to bring you back from your fuzzing mind. 

“I think it's time you get out. You're as red as me now.” his rich voice taunts 

A quick laugh leaves you before it’s ripped from you abruptly. Rolan almost as quickly as he kisses you, he lifts you guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. With shocking little effort, Rolan carries you out of the hot spring back to the dry bank. The sudden chill of the air nipping at your skin should leave you shivering, but wrapped in Rolan's warm limps you find yourself perfectly comfortable. 

Playfully you twist and pull the strains of his soft hair. “Not to sound like an insult but I’m surprised you're able to carry me. I didn’t think wizards were all that strong?” 

You're both out of the water, dripping on the springs bank still wrapped tightly in his hold. Rolan rolls his eyes at your statement before responding with a smirk, “Well you should know that no wizard can match me, from my talent to my strength.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now and as you do he bounces you within his arms forcing you to grab him tighter making him laugh at you.

“Well, you are definitely relaxed now.” 

“I am, I should thank you, Hero.” 

You feel yourself getting wetter from his sultry words, “How do you plan on doing that, Archmage?

His eyes spark with something and he grins allowing you to see his sharp canines and molars, “I’m thinking I’m going to fuck you on the bank of this hot spring. Is that what you want?” 

Leaning in you breathe into his pointed ears, “Yes…” 

Then in the next moment, you feel his lips leaving messy kisses over your neck causing you to hold on tighter as Rolan slowly lowers you to the cool ground. The chill of the forest floor on your back makes a shiver rush your spine causing your nipples to perk and your body to shake. A whine leaves your chest and a smile stretches to his lips as he pulls away from you, his shining eyes roam over your body as he carefully moves his hands to your hips and adjusts to a kneel. Slightly digging in his nails, he pulls your body causing his length to brush your slick sex. 

The heat of his cock pressed on your soft flesh makes you shut your eyes with a whimper, he’s not even in you, and your whining. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” his voice commands as his hands lift your legs onto his textured shoulders. 

Finally opening your eyes you see his eyes watching you as he presses a kiss to your inner knee before taking a quick nip to it causing your hips to buckle forward. 

That only feeds his ego, “Don’t tell me you're sensitive…” 

You narrow your eyes, “if you were underneath me I would have you whimpering, so don’t get cocky.” 

Rolan lets out a laugh as he looks down at your spread sex, wet and quivering for him. You can hear his tail begging to swish behind in excitement. 

“We will have to test that on a different night…You look too perfect spread open and waiting for me.” Rolan taunts as he brings his hand to slide his fingers over your glistening cunt, then rubbing slow circles to your swollen clit. 

The sensation of his dexterous fingers stimulating your bud causes you to grind your hips on him for more. Falling deeper into the pleasure you feel your lower stomach twist as waves of heat flood your body. You can’t help but shut your eyes with a shivering breath as soft moans slip through your lips. 

Rolan tsk as he suddenly pinches your clit making you gasp and shoot your eyes open.  “Keep your eyes on me. Understand?” 

You quickly nod, keeping your eyes on his gorgeous face. His fingers slide to your entrance, slipping his middle finger slowly to rub your soft fluttering walls. Watching you intensely he slips in a second finger curling the long digits in your velvety insides. Moans of his name and pleads flow out of your lips as he keeps a steady tempo. 

“You're being so obedient…that's new for you…” 

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can Rolan twists his fingers to the spot that's making you see stars. Rolan seeing your slack jaw expression speeds up his motions. The twisting in your lower stomach gets tighter and tighter as you look at Rolan with pleading eyes. Seeing your expression and feeling your walls clamping down on him, he knows you're closer and he brings his tail to flick on your clit as his other hand keeps your grinding hips in a firm hold. 

You are panting as you dig your fingers into the ground you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Rolan's eyes are on you, staring intensely as he studies every one of your expressions, he looks divine. 

“F-Feels so-so good!” You scream breathlessly 

He smiles at your stammering, getting excited from your praise. “Yeah? Then cum for me.” 

Nodding absently mindlessly you feel his tail flick faster and his fingers curl deeper so perfectly making your coil suddenly snap and your body explode in a wave of white-hot ecstasy as you feel yourself squirt on his fingers, running down his hands and thighs now. 

 “Prefect…” Rolan whispers as he watches you come down from your high while slowly rubbing your release over his swollen cock. 

“You want more?” he asks as he lines himself up to your tight slit. 

“Please~” You hum out blissfully, feeling his ridged length’s heat radiating onto you. 

Rolan chuckles with a shake of his head, “So greedy…” 

He braces his hand tightly on your hip as he pushes the heat of his dick into your cunt. It’s hot and intense as it slides and stretches you. Your walls clench as you moan his name as his ridges rub your insides deliciously. Your thighs tighten as he pushes into you fully, his nails digging into you as his cock throbs as you adjust to him. 

“Gods you feel good” he sighs in pleasure. He moves his eyes from where he’s buried within you to your blissed-out face. Rolan brings a hand to cup your cheek and you melt into his touch, turning your face to kiss his palm before giving him a nod that you are ready. 

Rolan presses kisses on the insides of your legs again as he brings his hands to your waist. Slowly he starts positioning into you, your eyes roll back as his strokes nudge his burning cock right into your spongy spot that's making you mew shamelessly at every thrust. Rolan picks up his thrusting as he feels your walls clenching on him. 

“You're taking-ta-taking me so well darling.” he groans, throwing his head back as his balls slap against you. 

Rolan moves your hips up and down to match his thrust as his breathing quickens. Squirming and curling your toes you feel yourself approaching your climax again, but this time you're desperate to have Rolan cum with you. 

Rocking your hips against him faster you drive him deeper as his cock now rubs your cervix and your walls lick his ridges.  “Rolan, you're amazing! Fantastic! I’m yours whenever you want me! Fuck! Right there!” 

Rolan’s sweating skin further flushes at your praise and his moans turn into broken whines as he fucks you faster and bounces you at the perfect pace. 

With a couple more thrusts that familiar rush floods you as you arch your back mindlessly screaming as you make a mess over Rolan's cock. With your orgasm quivering and sucking him in he stills and squeezes you tightly as his dick throbs and spurts his burning cum deep within you. Stars slowly fade from your vision as you focus on a panting Rolan still buried deep in you. 

With hooded eyes you give a lazy smile, Rolan eyes are glazed over but still focused on you as he smiles back at you. Slowly he pulls out and you wince at the feeling of the sudden emptiness. Rolan settles beside you and carefully holds you to his chest as his tail wraps around your ankle gently. 

“Rest with me for a while…then come back to the tower with me.” 

You hum in agreement as you let your relaxed state move you to one of sleep. Perfectly warm and perfectly relaxed wrapped in each other's arms. 

Larkissa is busy drying the goblets behind the bar to prepare for tonight's service. A tapping of nails on the counter gets her attention away from the task. She turns her head to see a smirking Lia. 

“A bet is a bet and I want my 50 gold,” Lia says, holding out her hand. 

Larkissa huffs and digs in her pockets, She will have to scold Rolan for not being assertive enough to make the first move.

[nyrandrea]

You have very good writing and I think you really do comfort fics well! So I was wondering if you could write a fic with Astarion where the Tav he is trying to seduce has like major self esteem issues. Like they kind laugh at his attempts to compliment them. But at first it seems like a joke until he realizes that Tav isn't joking about it and he tries to help them see they are beautiful. (this is one of my fav prompts to give people ngl)

Thank you so much! This is a lovely prompt and I hope I did it some justice! :)

Word Count - 2k

Enjoy!

xxx

As the storm clouds gathered ominously on the horizon, you and your party found yourselves on a desolate, rain-soaked road in the middle of nowhere. The relentless downpour had turned the earth into a sea of mud, and the wind howled like a vengeful spirit. 

Your clothes were soaked through, and faces were etched with exhaustion and desperation. With each step, your boots sank into the muck, making the journey even more arduous. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a menacing reminder that you had to find shelter soon. 

“Ugh, there’s probably some saying about rainbows after the storm and whatnot,” Astarion said, holding a rucksack over his head in a failing attempt to save his hair. “But I’d much rather not be out in the middle of one.” 

“Ah, it’s not so bad, just think of it as a long overdue shower,” Gale said. “And the saying is ‘Don’t fear the storm, for the rainbow is never far behind!’” 

“Oh yes, that’s the one,” the vampire drawled.  “I’ll rest so much better now that you have enlightened me.” 

Amid the pelting rain, you spotted a faint glimmer of light in the distance. With newfound hope, you quickened your pace and beckoned the others to follow. As you trudged closer, the light revealed itself to be a cozy inn, nestled among ancient trees that shielded it from the worst of the storm. 

“Thank the Gods,” Karlach breathed. “If I got any more drenched, my engine would have snuffed out.” 

“Wouldn’t that solve your problem, then?” Lae’zel snidely chimed in, only to hiss when you elbowed her. 

The inn's windows emitted a warm, inviting glow, and the scent of wood smoke and hearty meals wafted through the air. Your tired body yearned for a meal and a warm bed, mindflayer tadpoles be damned. 

“Have we got enough gold to stay here? I mean, for everyone to have a room?” Shadowheart asked. 

“We should do,” you said, pulling out the team’s shared coin pouch. “I sold that egg we uh... found.” 

“You mean the one we stole after we killed its mother?” Wyll asked, clear disdain lacing his voice. 

“It’s not technically stealing if the target is dead,” Astarion cheerfully chimed in. “Besides, we rescued the other one, didn’t we? One good turn deserves another.” 

Wyll grimaced. “Your idea of virtue is a damn twisted one.” 

“Aw, you love me really,” the vampire teased back. 

“Here we are!” you announced as you reached the inn's doorstep, you were greeted by the innkeeper, whose eyes twinkled with the knowledge that you had nowhere else to go for the night. After taking payment, he ushers you inside, where a crackling fireplace cast a comforting light over the room, he takes your belongings up to your rooms with the help of Wyll and a begrudging Astarion. 

Finding a long wooden table in the corner of the room, the group sat together, their spirits lifted by the fact that they were safe from the fury of the storm outside, at least for one night. The innkeeper, his apron stained with years of hospitality, served you a hearty meal of roasted meats, fresh bread, and stew. 

You listened to the rain's rhythmic drumming on the inn's thatched roof, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for having found refuge in this little hidden haven. With a deep, contended sigh, you tucked into your meal, savouring every bite.

At least, you were trying to. 

“You better eat up,” Astarion teased, lacing his fingers together as he rested his chin upon them to watch you. “Because I plan on doing just that very soon.” 

“Crap,” you mumbled between mouthfuls. “Are you hungry? Why didn’t you say so?” 

“Oh, am I hungry,” he smirked. “Just not for blood.” 

You almost choked, but you masked it well with a nervous chuckle. He wasn’t... flirting with you, was he? You had always been bad at picking up signals, not that you received them often. 

‘Nah,’ you thought. He couldn’t be, not when there were so many other better-looking people, at this table alone, that he could choose from. 

“Well, I know you’re not craving my charming banter.” 

“Oh no, something far better.” 

Now you really were at a loss. 

“Do you... need to borrow my hair comb again?” 

“I mean sex, darling.” 

This time you couldn’t hide the choke, but you were more afraid of dying from embarrassment than anything else. 

“What?” 

The deafening silence that had befallen the table was broken by a low whistle from Karlach. 

“The direct approach, I can respect that, mate.” 

“Direct? I’ve been trying to drop hints for weeks now but perhaps a little more serenading is needed,” he looked you up and down with a knowing smile; he had hooked you, now it was time to reel you in. 

“Darling,” Astarion began softly, his voice a gentle caress, “when I look into your eyes, I see galaxies of beauty and depth that defy description. It’s as if the universe itself painted them with the colours of a thousand sunsets.” 

A faint blush tinged your cheeks as you lowered your eyes, unsure of where to look. Astarion reached out and gently lifted your chin, so your eyes met once more. 

“And your smile,” he continued, “it’s like a radiant sunbeam on even the cloudiest day. It has the power to brighten my world in an instant.” 

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Karlach said, fanning herself. “You’re even making me blush!” 

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you burning any hotter now,” Gale smiled, though it was strained. He looked almost as uncomfortable as you felt. 

“Your kindness,” Astarion went on, “it knows no bounds. You have a heart that’s more expansive than the ocean, and it’s a privilege to be the one you’ve chosen to share it with.” 

“Bah!” Lae’zel practically spat. “These nonsensical attempts at beguiling are a waste of time, why waste your energy talking when you can claim and dominate each other instead?” 

You were hard-pressed to agree with Lae’zel on this one. Well, except maybe for that last part. 

“Alright, you can stop now,” you said. 

“Not until you’re convinced,” Astarion replied, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “How about this? You are a masterpiece in a world of art,” The vampire flamboyantly declared, his gaze unwavering. “Your uniqueness, your quirks, your imperfections – they all make you the incredible person I fell in love with. You’re not just enough; you’re more than I ever dreamed of.” 

You roll your eyes. “Gods, you know you don’t have to keep practising the fancy fake flattery on me, right? I know it’s all like a big joke to you but enough is enough, eh?” 

Astarion finally pulls back and frowns at you, not in that puppy-pout way when he didn’t get what he wanted, but in a way that he looked genuinely offended. 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“I... uh,” you stutter, suddenly flustered.  

“My compliments aren’t fake, darling. Decorative, perhaps, but you do know I mean every word, don’t you?” 

“Pfft,” you try to wave him off nonchalantly, but your quivering voice betrays you. “No, you don’t. It’s... it’s all just a bit of fun, r-right?” 

“Perhaps I should be a bit blunter then,” Astarion said, leaning forward ever so slightly, his expression serious and scarlet eyes piercing into you. “You’re... beautiful.” 

You swear you could feel something just break inside you in that moment.

A tentative smile, like a fragile flower pushing through the cracks of self-doubt, graced your lips, but it wilted in the harsh light of scrutiny. A tight knot formed within your throat as everyone stared at you in anticipation. What were you supposed to say? Thank you? That you were grateful for the shower of compliments from Astarion, this... gorgeous man, because you sure as hell didn’t deserve them? 

“I’m a little tired,” you suddenly say, your chair scraping the floor with a shrill screech as you quickly stand up. “Excuse me.” 

Leaving their concerned calls behind you, you made your way up the stairs of the tavern and into the hallway leading to the rooms. The innkeeper had allocated them, but he’d neglected to say which one was which, so you merely picked the first door you could get your hands on. 

It wasn’t until you slammed the door shut and leaned your back against it that you realised that you picked the wrong bloody one. 

The room was large and luxurious, the centrepiece was an ornate, four-poster bed adorned with rich, crimson drapes that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight and crisp, white linens, neatly turned down. An old, familiar skull-faced tome laid face up, its amethyst eyes staring ominously at the ceiling. 

It seemed that someone got first dibs on the rooms, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who. 

‘Shit,’ you curse to yourself, scrambling for the doorknob. ‘Maybe I can get out before he-’ 

As soon as you open the door, Astarion is already right there, his hand raised into a fist. 

“Knock-knock?” he says, giving you a tentative smile. 

“S-sorry, must have gotten a little mixed-up.” 

“That’s quite alright, dear,” his tone is too soft for your liking, as if he feared offending you in any way. 

“Right, well,” you strain a smile and edge around him to get to the hallway. “Goodnight.” 

“Wait,” he catches you by the arm. “Come back in, won’t you?” 

You squint at him suspiciously. 

“To talk, darling. Nothing else, not if you don’t want to.” 

Gods know that you wanted to, you were just... surprised that he did. 

As you re-enter the room, you notice a small, antique writing desk nestled by a leaded glass window. A vase of freshly picked wildflowers graced the wooden surface, infusing the room with their sweet fragrance. 

Astarion caught your stare. “Ah, unfortunately I have run out of perfume to mask my er... musk. So, I had to improvise.” 

“It’s nice,” you remark, the tight knot in your throat making it hard to speak. 

“Well, I should hope so. They are your favourite after all, are they not?” 

A surge of guilt jabbed through your chest, you had occasionally stopped on the road to admire the flowers; their colours, their scent was intoxicating to you. Had he been observing you even back then? 

You didn’t know what to say, words were always tempered by hesitation, their resonance dulled by the fear of judgment. Each sentence was punctuated by apologies, as if you believed your very existence owed the world an explanation. Confidence always remained just beyond your reach, an oasis in the desert of your own mind. 

Astarion sat on the bed and patted the empty spot next to him; you silently took the invitation. 

“I would like to... apologise for earlier. Making you uncomfortable was never my intent, I...” he paused, his eyes flickering over you. “I just wasn’t sure how much clearer I could make it to you.” 

“That you... like me?” 

“Like you?” Astarion took your hands and squeezed them. “I adore you. Everything about you, all that you do is... nothing short of breathtaking.” 

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over your cheeks like the gentlest rain, your trembling shoulders burdened by the weight of your emotions 

“I’m sorry if you don’t hear this enough but... I wish to change that. You really are, truly, beautiful.” 

The tears flowed freely then, your sobs echoing in the stillness of the night. Astarion gathered you in his arms, a silent pillar of support. His hand, cool and reassuring, gently cradled your trembling one, his thumb grazing back and forth over your knuckles. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his words a gentle caress. “Let it out, darling.” 

Astarion’s presence felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven in the storm of emotions. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or rushed advice. Instead, he listened, letting you pour your bottled emotions out, allowing it to find solace in his quiet understanding. 

With each tear that fell, Astarion’s touch remained steady, unwavering. 

As the night wore on, you found yourself nestled into his side as you lay together on top of the covers, your head tucked into his shoulder while he stared up at the ceiling. He turns his head briefly to kiss your forehead, and in that sacred space, amid the tears and whispered sorrows, you found solace, strength, and perhaps the willingness to accept that, in your own way, you are beautiful. 

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to rescue you from kidnappers

[ofstardustanddreaming]

curves

headcanon summary: gale dating a curvy reader

content warnings: some mentions of insecurity

fandom: baldur's gate 3

character: gale dekiros x reader

female reader

anon request (thanks for this request, i always love a good body positivity fic!)

gale loves any type of body, don't even try to change my mind around here. when you catch his eye, it feels like his breath has been taken away. he always tries to find the time to get to know you and try to get any indication across that he wants to date you. he always hangs around you and always tries to be your camp partner in various camp activities, or tries to partner with you in various fights across your journey.

he's captivated by your beauty and personality, and he earnestly tries to get your attention, hoping his looks and personality would catch your attention as well. he would always talk about interesting facts he's heard about, and it worries him that he's rambling to you and it's boring you, but when he catches you looking at him with genuine interest, he finds his breath catching in his throat.

both of you have your insecurities that prevent you from asking each other out, thinking the other person couldn't possibly want them. hearing so much about what people had to say about gale's rambling, he was worried that might deter you from his personality, and hearing what many had to say about your body, you were worried he be deterred from your looks.

and it's not to say you look bad! but unfortunately society likes to stick its claws into beauty standards, and it always made you worried about how you should present yourself around people. it made you worried about any lingering looks your way. which is why you were always conscious of yourself whenever gale looked your way for longer than a few seconds or whenever he looked so intently at you whenever you were speaking to each other.

yet, you both still got along very well and you knew that gale was a good friend. and you found yourself wanting more than a friendship after a while, and so did he. you were both just so insecure and caught up with yourselves, your nerves weren't allowing you guys to confess quite yet.

but it's okay, because many members had to witness the two of you dancing around your feelings, and were frankly getting sick of the dance after a while. wyll, karlach, and astarion were hatching their plan to push you together, with some encouragement from halsin, shadowheart, and lae'zel. the latter wanted you together, but knew the previous might be better for the planning and the execution.

but they had managed to concoct a plan to get you to confess to each other, and it was sweet. you both had a private moment in the woods, where gale was showing you a knew trick he was learning, and you finally confessed. "i like you a lot. i'd really like a relationship."

that's what you told him, intently looking at his trick still, to nervous to look at his reaction. but he turns you towards him, his hand drifting down towards your hip. "i like you too and that relationship sounds wonderful. i was certain there was no feelings from your end, i thought my rambling may have gotten to you." he sayid, shyly glancing down and then back at your face.

"oh, i love learning about anything you've learned about. if anything, i thought you may have not been attracted to my body. it's usually the first thing someone has to say in my experience." you feel like you're about to curl into yourself, worried he might agree with what those in the past have said.

"i really think you're one of the most attractive woman i've seen, truth be told. i've found you breath taking since the first time i've set my eyes on you. you've enchanted me, body and all." he says, grabbing you closer by the waist, and you both tentatively kiss each other, which turns into a passionate kiss in itself over the course of the next few minutes.

but yeah, gale is absolutely the kind of partner to listen to any insecurities you may have about being curvier/plus sized. but he will absolutely shut those insecurities down, ensuring that your body size is one of the first things he was enraptured by, to only be sealed by your personality, and he found love in you. which is one of the important things he values, and he assures you your body could not turn him away from finding what he loves. gale is a sweetheart when it comes to building confidence up in yourself. and i won't be hearing otherwise lol.

[underdark-dreams]

Thank you everyone who has read this fic along its life! I finally got up the courage to tie it up with a bow. Here's the final chapter of my Rolan x Tav series Sage and Soldier, with links to the other pieces:

Blades and Spells [Fluff - First Meeting]

Good Night for Company - [Pining - Feelings Realization | NSFW] [ch1] [ch2]

[ch1] - [ch2] - [ch3] - [ch4] - [ch5]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.6

After the end of the world, there's a wizard's tower in the Upper City.

Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, NSFW | Word Count: 4.8k [Read on AO3]

There was no time to celebrate the death of the Absolute—not when Tav and her companions stood trapped on its back like one of the doomed cities of Netheril. Not when her ears had already begun swimming and popping from the breakneck speed of their fall.

Tav yelled something back to the rest, some stupid bit of encouragement meant to keep them all on their feet. What else could they do but hold on, after all? They were all helpless, exhausted from battle, keeping their footing however they could as the brain’s pulsating flesh descended from the sky.

When they punched through the misty cloud layer below, Tav’s stomach leapt straight up into her throat. They were sailing across the Upper City, and the high spire of Ramazith’s Tower was rushing forward to meet them.

Too soon, her ears rang with the sickening, rib-shaking crash as the dying Netherbrain collided with the column of the Tower. Her shout of horror was lost to the explosive crumble of masonry and the whip of wind. She had only a second to fear the worst. 

The impact spun the creature on its descent; Tav was knocked hard to her side, forced to scrabble for purchase on the monster’s slimy flesh as it careened sideways. Her limbs skated ineffectually over the brain’s folds—she was sliding toward the edge—

Not like this, her mind screamed in protest.

Tav yanked the sheathed dagger at her thigh and plunged it into the dying Absolute. Two hands gripped the hilt with all her might, even as her legs swung over the side of the Netherbrain like those of a limp ragdoll.

“Hells, we’re headed for harbor—!”

Behind her, Wyll’s yell of warning cut through. Tav understood at once—if they hit the Chionthar still standing on the back of the Netherbrain, its mass would pull them deep underwater with the strength of a vortex. She craned her neck blindly.

“Gale!” Tav shrieked for him, mad with panic. What if he’d fallen in the Upper City? What if he was gone, and she was beseeching a void?

Then she heard Gale’s voice call out for the Weave, and his spell hit hard along her spine. Her boots lifted unnaturally, the feet within them tingling with the power of flight—

The Netherbrain banked hard over the central City Wall. They were low enough now that Tav could make out figures with upturned faces—people watching the monster’s fall from the sky and fleeing away on foot, as if all pushed back by the same bank of wind. With one more lilt, the fleshy ground under her veered straight for the ancient wooden river docks.

A sharp glint of hope. If they timed their jump just right—if Gale’s spell lasted—

“Fuck this—” Beside her, Karlach was of the same mind. She was crouched low for balance, inching forward to the edge of the Crown for a better position. 

Tav used her dagger for leverage to push herself crouched. “Aim for the roof of the Counting House!”

She heard the others fighting to their feet behind her. Gravity was accelerating their fall; sharp rain and river mist buffeted against her face as they swung rapidly for the water. But first, they passed beside a wide expanse of flat stone ramparts.

And then—they jumped.

—

Tav’s limbs cried out in exhaustion; her rain-soaked leg plates jangled heavily with each boot tread. She dragged herself through the streets of the Gate on adrenaline alone. 

Those streets were in chaos. Though the battle was newly won, each corner she rounded brought a fresh skirmish. 

Newborn mind flayers stumbled about in swarms, hungry and rudderless without direction from their Elder Brain. Many still dripped with blood from the death of their human forms. Those Baldurians who weren't running from them with crying children in their arms had snatched up tools and blades alike to run the creatures through with the ruthlessness of survival. 

The chaos helped. Grit and blood and thudding bodies distracted Tav from the one sight she wanted to turn her head to, yet couldn't bear to see. 

As her boots climbed the cobbles north toward the Upper City gate, Rolan’s tower crumbled over and over in her mind’s eye. She felt like retching. Her lungs were on fire.

Please let him be alive, please let him be alive, please let him be alive—she prayed to any god who might still be listening.

A child’s scream brought her up short on reflex.

Silfy—the timid one from the Grove, the little girl who cried when Tav caught her stealing a worthless trinket. A young mind flayer was reaching for her, one long-fingered hand directing its neural heat where she stood frozen in terror.

Tav’s teeth ground in her skull. She was so thoroughly fucking done—her longsword scraped out of its scabbard and arced straight toward the creature’s throat. 

Just as the blow connected, an arrow shaft pushed out between the mind flayer’s dark eyes. It crumpled lifeless to the pavement in a heavy heap. Silfy turned tail without a backward glance; Tav squinted through mist and smoke, trying to identify the Flaming Fist who still held her shortbow poised.

“Lia!” Tav could have sobbed in relief. “Thank gods—is Rolan—?”

“I don’t know—” Lia’s voice was desperate as she ran closer. “Cal and I took the Sundries portal to fight with Cerys. Last we heard, Rolan was up manning the turrets.”

Tav could have swayed and collapsed where she stood. Only adrenaline kept her upright.

“I’ll find him,” she shouted above the surrounding chaos, half to herself, half to wipe that terrible fear from Lia’s face. She pushed away into a sprint without another word to her. 

He’s not dead—he wouldn’t die like that—

Would she even be able to find Rolan’s body in the wreckage if he was? Tav’s knees wanted to give way at the thought. She gasped air into her lungs, wresting that image of him out of her mind with everything she had.

When she rounded the road from Flymm’s Cargo, a powerful wall of heat nearly knocked her back on her rump.

The ancient prow of the Blushing Mermaid was ablaze. Flames the height of ten men towered into the gray skies above, unaffected by the steady drizzle of rain. Her steel chestplate grew painfully hot as she forced herself up the crest of the hill.

Shouts and acrid air clouded her senses as she dashed beside the scene. Tav caught sight of Zorru and Danis, leading a bucket line all the way from Gray Harbor; their voices cracked from heat and smoke as they yelled directions.

All at once, like the emptying of a giant basin over their heads, a crash of water fell over the blaze and its surroundings. The cobbles under her feet were abruptly drenched; Tav slipped and careened forward, catching herself hard on both hands in a clang of plate armor.

There was a deep, ominous creak from somewhere above her. Knocked breathless, Tav nevertheless craned her head back. 

The heavy wooden spindle on the ship’s prow that jutted over the street was already weakened from fire; now it was soaked through from the magical downpour. As she watched dumbstruck, it splintered with a slow twang. Then the wood snapped clean down the middle, and the length of it swung downward, straight for her legs.

Tav scrambled forward on hands and knees. Her boots and gauntlets scraped over the wet stones toward safety—

Footsteps were sprinting closer. There was a shouted incantation and a flash; Tav smelled roses as the Weave enveloped her completely for the space of a blink. Then she landed flat on her stomach in the middle of the street.

Thoroughly winded now, she coughed and wheezed for breath. The blaze and heat of the fire was strangely distant from where she lay. 

As her lungs finally filled again, Tav realized she wasn’t just lying on pavement—something soft under her torso had cushioned the fall. She lifted up with a groan to look down at what she’d fallen on top of.

Rolan was entirely covered in soot and masonry dust from horn to foot. The effect was that he blended almost completely into the gray cobbles at first glance. Only when he opened his eyes did she recognize the two golden flames staring back at her.

“Tav!” 

Rolan sat up so suddenly his horns nearly collided with her forehead. His hands gripped around her forearms with bruising force. “The Brain—I thought you’d—”

Her body had begun to violently shake as she took him in, each inch of his face strained with anxiety and streaked with dust and thoroughly alive—

Unable to go another second without him, Tav threw both arms around his neck. Rolan gripped her ribcage in turn, so tight and so long that her vision went spotty from lack of air. She couldn’t care less; in this moment, she would have dissolved right into him if she could have.  

“I thought you were dead, Rolan,” she gasped into his shoulder. “Your Tower—the Netherbrain crashed right into it.”

“Only the observatory.” Rolan’s voice was muffled against her hair. “Never planned to use it anyway—not much of an astronomer—”

Tav could have laughed hysterically if she wasn’t so out of breath. Rolan continued against her neck. 

“I was following it to the harbor, Tav, I had no idea what became of you—but then the fire, there were people inside—”

“You had to help,” she finished. She felt tears streaming fast and hot down her cheeks. The strength of her relief could’ve bowled her right over again. “I know, I know, just—”

They released each other at the same time. The kiss was stained with sweat and grime, yet it was the most satisfying one Tav had ever felt. She gripped Rolan’s face between two gauntleted hands, crushing his mouth against her.

“Lia’s okay,” she gasped out when Rolan’s lips finally left hers. “I met her south of here. She and Cal went with Cerys. Cal must be fine too, she would’ve said,” Tav added in a rush.

Rolan jerked his head in acknowledgement, his expression punch-drunk as he took her in. He was smoothing her hair back with both hands as if the motion was the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was very small.

Rolan nodded at her again. Clearly spell-spent and dusted in plaster, he looked like his own ghost. “Are you?” Despite all that, his baritone reverberated warm and familiar in her chest.

“It’s so quiet,” she whispered hoarsely. Her words fell in almost comical contrast to the distant sounds of shouting, fire, and steel meeting illithid flesh. 

But she could tell from the way Rolan’s eyes moved over her expression that he understood. The tadpole was finally gone—her mind was entirely her own again.

Rolan’s spark was beginning to return. “Can you stand?”

As he rose, Tav wobbled experimentally to her feet along with him. Her knees were bruised from the tumble, and her calves threatened to cramp from exertion—but she put on a brave face. 

Unconvinced, Rolan kept an arm looped behind her back just in case; one hand fastened along her waist. Walking with him close at her side, the adrenaline began to ebb in her veins. Bone-weariness was instead closing in like a shroud. 

“We should find Cal and Lia,” she said, trying to sound purposeful. Her boots dragged with each step.

“Yes,” Rolan agreed. He was holding her very firmly—practically supporting half her weight. “And we should be sure your friends made it safely from the docks.”

Tav gave a mumbled assent. It was difficult to care about any of that now, though she knew she should. She found herself staring up at his profile beside her. 

“Rolan?”

He looked down in concern. “What is it?”

“After that…will you take me home?”

“My darling—” His lips pressed firmly to her brow. “Yes.”

—

Tav shifted on top of him with a mumble.

Rolan froze with arms still looped around her; perhaps the crinkle of scroll parchment had awakened her. 

But then her face snuffled back into the bare crook of his shoulder. The dead weight of her across his chest assured Rolan that she was still fast asleep.

It was a lucky thing that he’d settled with reading material at arm’s length—the small pack of rare scrolls Tav herself had gifted him. She’d been out cold since dawn, when they all made it back to the Tower. It was nearly twilight now, and the sun’s last orange rays were fading fast through the high windows of Rolan’s bedroom. The distant streets had grown quiet as the city retired to nurse its wounds for the night.

Rolan hadn't seen much of her battle with the Netherbrain. Tav hadn't been in a state to tell many details once it was finally over, either. She could barely keep her eyelids open. The only thing clear was that she was completely exhausted from it.

Before anything else, Rolan coaxed several very potent healing elixirs down her throat. Then he drew them a bath and helped her out of her bloodied armor. She leaned heavily against him under the water. By the time he wrapped her in a towel to dry, he practically had to carry her back to his room.

The only hint of her fire came out when he’d tried to guide her toward the bed for sleep. Tav refused to go anywhere near the large four-poster frame that had belonged to the Tower’s previous archwizard. In fact, she declared that the whole thing was to be burned, mattress and all. 

Rolan couldn’t decide whether he was more amused or touched by her vehemence.

Instead, she’d grabbed a fistful of the blankets and dragged them away in order to fall against the massive direwolf pelt rug in front of the fireplace. It was no feather bed, but still leagues more comfortable than how either of them had slept on the road to Baldur’s Gate.

Especially so with Tav draped over him, Rolan had since decided. She’d promptly held him to her and drifted off. Her bare torso was a comforting weight on his chest. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she slept, little steady breaths tickling against his neck.

Home. That’s what Tav had called this, hadn’t she? Silently, Rolan leaned his cheek against her hair as he read.

Lia and Cal had moved all their things into the Tower the same day its ownership changed hands. The few of Rolan’s possessions remaining in their Heapside flat had been left in a little pile just inside his bedroom door. Among them was the small leather scroll pouch Tav had gifted him on her arrival to Baldur’s Gate. 

By this point, Rolan was certain he could find a much larger wealth of arcane knowledge in his new library. Still…it felt important to study from these first. 

For one, they were certainly beyond anything he’d managed to teach himself from hand-me-down textbooks back in Elturel. Whoever she’d stolen them from must have been an advanced practitioner of the Weave. Or perhaps just a man with the wealth and fancy to build a collection, much like Lorroakan had been.

They were also a gift from Tav. That simple fact made them more valuable to Rolan than most of the wealth he’d inherited along with Ramazith’s Tower. 

Had she collected them one by one in her travels here, thinking of him while she did? A warm affection bloomed in his chest at the thought. He’d have to ask her when she finally woke.

It was as if she sensed the thought. 

With a deep inhale, Tav arched and stretched full-body against the length of him under the covers. Her hands both landed to tangle in his hair against their makeshift fur bed.

“Morning,” she purred sleepily against his neck.

Rolan decided then and there—he could very much get used to waking up like this. However, it seemed the right thing to correct her. 

He kissed her brow. “Evening, actually.”

Tav raised her groggy face from his chest then, wiping one corner of her mouth. His eyes left the page to watch her blink around his bedroom in a daze. The blood-orange light of sunset was stretching long and dim across the floorboards now.

“Oh,” she said softly, a single word holding great recognition. Her wide eyes flicked to his face. 

“Have—have I been laid on top of you like a dead fish this whole time?”

“I’d never call you that,” Rolan assured her calmly. “But yes.”

Tav looked at him in appraisal for a long moment. 

“I think you like it,” she decided, and laid her head back down over his heart. He chuckled to himself and raised his free hand to smooth the hair back from her face.

Tav sighed happily at the gesture. “What are you reading, Rolan?”

“One of the scrolls you gave me.”

“Oh? Tell me about it, then. I’m curious.” One hand had gravitated suspiciously close to his ear. Sure enough, her thumb and forefinger began tracing along its edges to the pointed tip.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Rolan sighed. He’d always been unable to ignore the shivers that flowed down his spine when she touched him there. “I’d tell you regardless.”

“I'm sorry—” Her touch fell from him immediately. “I don’t do it on purpose, really. They’re just so pretty.”

Rolan cleared his throat. “It’s fine. You can—go on. If you like. Just know it’s a bit distracting.”

After a moment, her fingers cautiously returned. She was careful to keep the motion smooth and predictable this time. Rolan focused back on the page he’d pressed to fall flat before she woke.

“This one teaches a technique for arcane portal conjurement. The linking of two locations with a path carved through the Weave.”

Tav swiveled on her chin to look up at him. “Like the one from the Sundries to your library here?”

Rolan hummed in assent. “I've read about wizards who linked much more distant places together. The distance from here to Waterdeep, for instance. It requires a tremendous bit of spellwork.”

“How on earth?” She frowned at him in curiosity. “Where do you put a portal if you can't see where it's going?”

“Not sure yet,” Rolan mused, already being drawn back in by his reading despite her affectionate intrusions. “Most likely it requires two casters to sculpt the spell properly. I’ll need to understand the basic mechanics first.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Tav replied. She snuggled back into to the warmth at his neck.

“Of course I will.” Rolan shook the parchment out with his hand to punctuate the statement. 

Tav let out a quiet exhale of laughter—but she said nothing to question him. It made Rolan swell with pride a bit.

He held her for another quiet moment as the fire snapped and danced in the hearth beside them. Its light seemed to burn brighter and even warmer now, with the sun finally gone behind the horizon.  

When Tav shifted further over his lap, he didn’t think anything at first. Perhaps she was still trying to get comfortable on their makeshift sleeping arrangements.

Then she ground the heat between her legs over his half-hard cock, and a reflexive sound was pushed from Rolan’s throat.

“Tav,” he groaned.

“I’ve always loved that confidence of yours.” She had propped herself up with hands on his chest to gaze down at him. The covers fell back to bathe her lovely bare shoulders and breasts and stomach with firelight. “You don’t understand, it’s like catnip to me.”

“Where's this coming from?”

“What? Is it not enough that I just woke up naked with the most handsome, brilliant young archwizard on the whole Sword Coast—”

As she showered him with teasing flattery, Tav canted her hips harder against his own. Rolan leaned back against the tips of his horns with another involuntary groan; the scroll fell away dangerously close to the fire, forgotten.

“Tav,” he repeated more forcefully, pushing himself up on one elbow. Her face above him was full of mischief. “You’ve just been through hells—are you sure you’re well enough to—?”

“Yes.” She threw her head back in a moan with the word. Rolan’s hands flew instinctively to her hips. She was already rocking and grinding in rhythm against him, leaving a wet patch of heat where their hips slotted together.

“You’re unbelievable—” Rolan held her arms back insistently, forcing her to look at him. 

Tav panted and bit her lip as they watched each other. He was of half a mind to return the favor. Look at the pretty hero of Baldur’s Gate, fresh from battle and already writhing on my cock—but the clear desire between her legs had rather scrambled his own thoughts. 

Instead, Rolan did what he could manage to tease her. “Tell me how you feel right now.”

“Hot.” Her voice was low and tempting; her eyes were dark with desire. “Wanting you. Needing you inside me—”

Even without leverage from her palms, Tav managed to shift over his ridges in a way that made Rolan twitch and shudder under her.

“Good gods—I want you too,” he heard himself gasp out. 

It was all the encouragement she needed. His grip had gone slack in distraction; with one hand guiding him, Tav angled herself up and sank down over the hard ridges of his length.

Her tight, wet heat all around him nearly knocked him breathless. Rolan lay back and ran his hands up her thighs. The firm muscle there led him straight to the lovely swell of her hips, and he gripped each hand with nails dimpling into her flesh.

Strong and soft—Tav was somehow both of those things at once. As she sat adjusting to him, her eyes certainly had never been softer than they were now, moving over his face.

“I missed this,” she breathed. 

Rolan nodded in silent agreement. From tonight on, he swore to himself, neither of them would ever have a chance to miss this.

When she began moving, it was slow and deliberate. Her hips glided up and down to take him—so warm, so perfect. Rolan glanced where their bodies met, watching his length disappearing into her again and again. The sight was almost too much; he felt compelled to close his eyes.

Instead, Rolan pushed himself seated. He couldn't be close enough to her. 

Tav folded her arms around his shoulders at once, adjusting to the new angle without breaking rhythm. Her face was bathed in firelight.

As he took in every inch of her, Rolan caught sight of an old blade scar under her jaw. He’d never noticed it before now. He leaned to press his lips against it.

She tilted her head with a soft sound, opening up the rest of her throat to his mouth should he want it. And he did—Rolan kissed and nipped at the flesh there while Tav rode him, her voice softly gasping and whispering his name over and over like a prayer. 

The rhythm of their hips together increased to something desperate. Rolan felt heat licking under his skin, burning like flame everywhere their bodies touched. She clutched desperate fingers over the deep ridges along his shoulder blades.

“Come in me,” she gasped. “Please.”

That one little word was his undoing. Who was he to deny the woman who had just saved everything he loved in the whole Realms, herself included? 

Rolan forced his mouth away from Tav’s throat to watch her come apart. She was already close—he could tell from the way her mouth fell open, the way her walls twitched and gripped him tighter each time she bounced down onto his lap. 

“I love you—” 

He wasn’t sure she heard with the way she arched and tensed into him—but then she already knew, didn’t she? Tav’s arms were trembling around his shoulders when she came, as if he was the only thing keeping her anchored down to earth. 

When he felt the coil inside him unraveling, Rolan buried his face into her shoulder again. She was whispering praises against the tapered shell of his ear—things too sweet to even commit to his own memory. Rolan clutched at her back with both hands as he finally shuddered and spilled inside her.

He kept his arms locked tight around her middle as the twitching waves at his core echoed and subsided. Then they tipped backward together, their bodies still connected, to land in a soft pile of fur.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the way they both panted against each other. Lying on top of him again, Tav’s lips brushed against the trail of ridges below his collar bone.

Soon enough, one of his long fingers began tracing over her back. He practiced the shapes of his somatic spell components along the empty expanse of her skin. She was so soft and smooth there—so unlike the way Tieflings were formed.

He felt goosebumps raise where his fingers touched. Tav shivered against him. 

“That tickles,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Apologies, darling,” Rolan told her. Some other time it would be very interesting to investigate how ticklish she was. For now, he stilled to press his palm against her lower back instead.

Tav heaved a deep sigh against his chest. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Rolan crooked his head down at her. “What do you mean?”

“Now that it’s over.” Tav propped her chin on both hands to meet his eye. “I can barely remember what it feels like to just…live my own life. You know?” 

Rolan carded one hand back through her hair. He understood the feeling well. 

“There’s still plenty to occupy both of us,” he assured her. “I need to complete the Tower repairs before the next storm, which could be any day knowing Sword Coast weather. And the Lower City is in a state of absolute ruin. I’m sure you’ll have a hundred people knocking on my door come morning, asking for their hero’s help with a hundred different things—”

To his surprise, Tav sat up on his lap in a huff. The motion reminded him he was still softening inside of her. 

“There you go spoiling my fun,” she complained good-naturedly. “Here I expected you to be thrilled at the prospect of finally having me in your bed day and night, with no mortal peril hanging over either of our heads, no less. And you only want to discuss Baldurian civics—”

Rolan felt himself beginning to laugh at her, a relaxed and throaty sound. “Is that what’s troubling you? Tav, I thoroughly intend to fuck you often and well.”

“You’d better,” she warned, but the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch. He wanted to devour her.

“And since you’ve declared my own bed permanently off-limits—” 

In one motion he rolled their bodies to pin Tav under him. It earned him a little ‘oh’ of surprise; he was conveniently still buried between her legs. “You’ve put me in the position of having to be resourceful.”

“Big change for you, that?” Tav teased. But her legs crossed behind his flanks to keep him close. As they did, one of her heels inadvertently rubbed against the sensitive base of his tail. 

Rolan hissed in air between his teeth. He saw her eyes spark with recognition, and leaned down to kiss her senseless before she could do anything wicked with this new information.

By the time they surfaced from lips and tongues and teeth, he was already achingly stiff inside her again. Her hands ran down his front, flowing over each concentric pattern on his chest with open want. It sent a shiver all the way down his spine, from neck to tail.

The way Tav looked at him—the way she touched him as if he was perhaps the loveliest thing she’d ever seen. He decided it would take him years to get used to. Maybe he never would.

Rolan kept still regardless, waiting for her to finish her explorations. All traces of teasing were long gone from her now. 

Tav’s eyes reflected the warmth of the dying fire as reached up for him. She passed one more deliberate hand over the planes of his face, as if she’d like to memorize the feel of them. Her fingers landed to gently clutch around his jaw.

“My wizard,” she said softly. 

Rolan had never been one for pet names; even from the people he cared about most. Those words should have sounded diminutive and sentimental to him, even spoken by Tav. 

Instead…

They fell sweetly against his ear, flowed like honeyed wine down his throat, and nestled into a space that glowed with warmth somewhere behind his ribs.

And why shouldn’t they? He was her wizard, after all.

[viennacherries]

First of all I love your work!! I keep rereading kiss the cook. I have a request God! Gale/Tav. A spicy fic about Tav and God Gale’s first time since he’s turned into a god.

anon. anon im so sorry. this turned into angst. please forgive me <3

NSFW

read it on ao3

~~~

Tav hasn't seen Gale since he left in search of the crown, promising to find her and bring her with him to Elysium. She'd believed him, but she thought he'd have come to her by now.

It's been 6 months. She's starting to lose faith.

She isn't completely convinced that he's going to come to the party. Withers insists he sent Gale an invite, but she's trying not to hold her breath. 'Trying' being the key-word here.

The truth is, she's desperate to see him again. She aches for him. He completes a part of her that she didn't even know was missing. He's soft and gentle with her in a way no one ever has been before, he's all light touches and tender caresses. He smells like old books and cinnamon, and he brings her more comfort than anything else could. She'll do anything for him. She just wants him back.

Withers is encouraging everyone to raise their glasses, finishing his toast, and her heart sinks at the realisation that Gale won't be turning up.

She wishes he would turn up.

Shadowheart is midway through saying something to her, clearly trying to take her mind off of him despite it being a fruitless cause, when a blinding beam of light flashes down from the sky.

It's like a bolt of lighting, the speed at which it descends, and there's a long pause where the light persists as if frozen in time, before it slowly fades away. Gale stands in its place and she runs to him, ecstatic, before her footfalls slow as she takes him in.

He did it. He found the crown. He became a God.

He looks so different. His whole body shimmers chrome, catching the light like an errant jewel in a necklace. His hair, once soft and flowing, seems sculpted to his head and body like a statue, every hint of his natural colour replaced with the same otherworldly silver as the rest of him. His eyes are glowing pits, no longer the soft warm brown she so loved looking into. They seem to create their own light, which wisps and curls around his eyebrows like ink through water. He looks glorious.

He looks new.

He spots her, smiles, and crosses the remaining distance. He stops a foot away.

"I had hoped I'd see you here." He says, and his voice. It's so different now. It echoes and reverberates as though he's stood in a vast cave, it screams of power and strength. It's his voice, still, but it doesn't sound like him anymore. There's something missing from behind his words that makes them feel slightly empty.

"I..." She feels shellshocked, "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Forget you? Never." His words make her heart sing, but his tone is all wrong. She knows he means it, but it just sounds so... lifeless.

He keeps talking, "I'm afraid time works quite differently in Elysium. I didn't realise how long I'd been gone, until I received Withers' summon."

All the time she spent, the months dragging on, missing and longing for him, had felt like mere moments to him. It makes her feel a little bitter, but she pushes the feeling down.

He's still talking. Something about 'the finer points of divine ascension' and how 'mortal comprehension' isn't enough to fully understand. He found the crown, he reforged it, he took control of it. The Karsite Weave has become the Galarian Weave. He commands it.

Tav swallows around the lump in her throat, "well, I'm ready to come with you."

His face twists into some sort of amusement, as if he finds her eagerness endearing. When he speaks, his tone is that of a teasing reprimand. "I see you won't be claiming the dominion of 'patience' in the heavens. All in good time, my love. For now, mortality has one more night of enjoyment in store..."

He takes her hand in his, and her skin tingles where they make contact, as though molten electricity courses through his veins. He leads her away from the party, and she hears the woops and catcalls of the rest of her friends as they fade away from view.

When he presses his lips to hers, it feels like static shock. When he runs his hands down her arms, it feels like the air right before lighting strikes. When he slowly undresses her, ready to worship her body as if she's the immortal being, not him, her skull tingles and her eyes water. It's so intense. He's barely even touched her and it's so, so intense.

He strips her slowly. Reverently. He has nothing but time. He has no need to rush, no need to worry. Everything is so different now. There's no hiding in tents trying to be private, there's no sneaking off in the night and tucking themselves back into their clothes before they get caught, there's no stolen kisses when everyone's looking away. He has eternity. They have eternity.

When she's laid on the ground, stripped bare for him, he lifts her legs over his shoulders and descends on her core with his mouth. He moves his lips like he's sending a prayer through her body, like she's the conduit to his devotion. His tongue ghosts over her nerves and she feels like a lighting rod the way his energy travels through her, as though seeking to ground itself through her fingertips as she digs them into the dirt.

And when he lays his body across hers, enters her with one smooth thrust, it's blinding pleasure. Every stroke he takes has lights blinking behind her eyes, every thrust like a jolt of power travelling up to her throat. When she finds her release it crackles through her like an exposed wire touching water, and when his follows shortly after her vision goes white with ecstasy at the feeling, as though his very essence is spreading through her marrow.

They lay together for a while, staring at the stars. He tells her of Elysium, of the endless ocean of constellations and the rivers of pure light. He speaks about his domain, how the Crown of Karus is kept safe at the centre of it, how he protects it with his immense newfound power. He waxes poetic about the shrines that have already been erected in his honour; several in Thay, and a grand temple under construction in Amn.

It dawns on her, all at once, that he hasn't asked how she's been.

She feels a pit open up in her stomach.

He tells her about the fathomless power at his disposal. He tells her about dragging the crown from the Chinonthar. He tells her about his disagreement with Mystra, when she learnt of his ascension, and his plans to challenge her further in time.

He doesn't ask about his mother. He doesn't ask about Tara. He doesn't ask about her.

It feels like she's ripping in half.

All too soon they're standing at the edge of the river.

"So, it's time for me to return to the heavens. The question is - do you wish to join me? To become a God at my side?"

Her stomach lurches.

She wants to. She wants to remain at his side, for all of eternity. She wants to go with him and build a home with him in the sky, a domain of magic of their own creation.

But she also wanted to create a home with him in Waterdeep. She wanted nights together curled up next to the fireplace, while he played piano with his magic and read arcane books to her. She wanted to sit on his balcony with him, watching the water, holding his hand in the evening breeze. She wanted the date night he promised, with his homemade hundur sauce. She wanted to meet his mother, have tea with her, call her 'mother-in-law'. She wanted to marry him.

And as she stands with him, as he is now, she takes him in. His eyes are luminous trenches, no longer a warm chocolate brown. His skin, once tanned and soft, is cold and silver. He doesn't smell of old books, or cinnamon; he smells like petrichor - like earth soaked in thunder and rain.

She stands with him, hand in hand. But he doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels like he's a million miles away. Like he's already gone back to the heavens.

"I can't"

When he leaves, she wishes she went with him. Then she wishes he'd stayed. Then she wishes he'd never found the crown.

She wishes he'd chosen her.

She sits, knees clutched to her chest, and she sobs.

A small ball of fur and feathers curls into her side. A tressym.

They mourn together.

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate Part One:

The Reclusive Wizard and the Cheeky Upstart

POV || Third Person, dual POV Gale Dekarios and Elinna Inklynn (Tav)

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios

Length || 5,500 Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror.

A/n || I hope you all enjoy this very indulgent little fic I'm starting. I am already having entirely too much fun with it. Please keep in mind that while this fic will have a good amount of characters and scenarios from the canon events of BG3 I am planning on taking a lot of creative liberties and may leave out certain situations/characters for the sake of flow!

If you like this, you may also like my original works! I have a writing taglist that you can sign up for simply by commenting or reblogging and letting me know you'd like to be added. OR you can fill out this form if you'd like to be specific about which works you'd like to be tagged in.

Tag list || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide

A Reclusive Wizard

“Mr. Dekarios, if you would just consider it–” Tara suggested as she fluttered alongside her charge. 

“Tara, no,” Gale said. “We are not dropping the wards and we’re not taking visitors. The orb is too volatile.”

“But, Mr. Dekarios–I’ve told you this isolation of yours–” 

“Tara–enough,” Gale shouted, exasperated. “You are my friend. You’re not my mother. I’m a grown man, who has done quite well for himself, might I add, and I don’t need your–your incessant fussing.”

“Mr. Dekarios!” Tara tutted, her whiskers perking forward with her disapproval. “My incessant fussing is what helped you figure out how to stabilize the orb in the first place, may I remind you. And if you so tire of my incessant fussing, allow me to divest of its burden! I may not be your mother, but your mother is a friend to me and will happily put me up.”

“Tara,” Gale said. “Wait–I didn’t mean you should leave–”

“I know that. But I am also quite aware that my willingness to fetch magical items and act as your little familiar has proven to only enable your reclusive habits,” she retorted. “Perhaps you will not listen to me, but when you run out of biscuits for your tea, perhaps you’ll see the reason in getting a little bit of fresh air…and perhaps a bath…and for the sake of the gods a shave.”

Tara flitted her way up to one of the high windows in the tower, pausing on the sill before leaving.

“Tara, don’t go,” Gale said, his eyes taking on a sort of sorry, piteous quality. “Please, just stay here.”

“Mr. Dekarios, those big glittering eyes won’t work on me any longer,” Tara said. “I’ve known you too long to be bewitched by your pouting. If you so wish me to return, you can come fetch me at your childhood home. The walk will do you well.”

And with that, she soared right out of the window, leaving Gale of Waterdeep entirely and utterly alone. 

Gale scowled up at the window she’d escaped from before sighing and smearing a hand down his face. He cupped his hand over his mouth and heaved out a low grumble, lost in thought as he often was these days. 

Perhaps Tara was right…maybe it was time to leave the tower. To engage in the ease of camaraderie at The Yawning Portal, reach out to the colleagues that had tried to pay him a visit in the year since his relationship with Mystra had come to an end–since this tangle of Netherese magic made a home of his chest cavity. 

But it wasn’t just the volatile nature of the orb that worried him. It wasn’t as if he thought a raucous night with his friends would trigger an explosion to level the city he called home. Even with the constant peril of the orb in his chest being destabilized by a too-strong emotion, there was a deeper fear inspiring the reluctance.

Gale Dekarios was used to being an outlier. Unfortunately, it was the otherside of the coin of being a particularly gifted wizard. As a child, it had been a source of ostracization. As an adolescent it made him the subject of many an ill-begotten rivalry. As a young man he had begun to learn how to minimize the isolation by compensating for the inevitable inferiority complex he inspired in others by learning to be charming and funny–to couch his corrections in complimentary language so that he could have some measure of friendship.

It wasn’t often that he could find people that could keep up with him or converse with him on his level–at least, not where the subject of magic came into play. But he’d learned to accept that and enjoy the company of other wizards–even non-wizards–in different ways. 

A game of lanceboard, the critical analysis of a book, a spirited debate on the merits of the shadow arts when applied to the correct endeavors. Now, as a man in his late 30’s with questionable knees, he felt nicely secure in his ability to play nice with others. 

But this new sense of separation–this insurmountable mountain between himself and the other–had been so very devastating to the life he had carefully cultivated. 

How could he listen to other people lament about their sordid love affairs, the politics at the academy–anything– with any measure of understanding or empathy? How could he confide in the people who he used to call his friends? 

He was alone in the tower, but he wasn’t certain he could face the profound isolation of trying to connect with someone about his condition, only to find them staring back at him in utter befuddlement. Or worse, with soulless platitudes and what he could only describe as foolish optimism.

Who could possibly make him feel better when there was no way he could ever feel better? How could he listen to the woes of friends and earnestly care about them when he had been forsaken by the goddess of the only thing he held sacred in his life?

He couldn’t. That was a the truth of it. And that was why he didn’t want visitors. He didn’t want to subject his friends to the poor quality of his care; didn’t want to expose them to this unique brand of selfishness and bitterness. 

He’d had enough of destroying things. 

But he also knew he needed Tara–not just because of the artifacts, but because she was his oldest and longest standing friendship. And because the tower, in her absence, had already become unbearably quiet.

And he supposed it had been a while since he last saw his mother…

He sighed and turned away from his mess of a study, climbing up the two flights of stairs to his bedchambers. Once there, he conjured himself a bath as he undressed, leaving his house robes in a pile on the floor before stepping into the steaming water. 

It smelled of bay laurel and lavender–an old combination that Mystra loved to use when they’d shared baths together. His mind drifted to the thought of his goddess cradled against his body, how small she felt even with her considerable power, the feeling of her silky hair catching on his skin as he kissed the hollow of her neck and…

“Don’t take that path in your mind, Gale. She’s the last person you should be thinking about right now,” he told himself as he gave his cheek a couple firm, bracing pats with his hand. He let his head drop back in the water and sighed. 

The water filled his ears, quieting the ambient sounds in the room around him and creating an echochamber of his head. He heard the airy sound of his breaths coming and going in and out of his lungs; heard the gentle trickling sounds of his fingers creating tiny currents under the water; heard the sound of his heart still beating in his over-crowded chest. 

He was still alive. 

There could be hope for him yet. 

Unlikely, sure, but there could be. 

After washing up with some simple soap, he got out of the bath and toweled off. 

He walked over to the small wardrobe where he kept his things and slapped a couple lazy splashes of a fragranced suspension he’d made onto his neck, favoring his pulse points as he used to when he’d go out for a night at The Yawning Portal. He trimmed his beard as a small concession to Tara (he would not be shaving it completely, thank you very much,) and got dressed. 

He decided he would wear one of his nicer sets of robes. It’d been a while since he’d properly dressed himself in something other than simple tunics and roughspun practice robes. He started with some leather trousers and his under shirt, layering the criss-crossed front with car and fastening it with the ties at his waist to create a slender, tapered silhouette. Then he slipped the robe on, and paused as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. 

He’d not really been thinking when he selected the robe, but this was one of Mystra’s favorites on him. Various shades of violet with a wine-colored sash. 

Violet, of course, was the color of the weave. Mystra’s color. 

Would she want him to eliminate the color from his wardrobe altogether? Now that she’d left him to his devices? Surely a goddess couldn’t bar him from wearing a color. Hopefully not, considering more than half of his wardrobe was some shade of lilac, lavender or morning glory.

Whatever the case, he fastened the buckles and straightened the sash the wine colored sash, trying once again to put Mystra out of his mind. He did a flick of his hands to lace up the sleeves and then slid on some leather bracers for good measure. 

It wasn’t as if he had any intention of doing any fighting or shooting any arrows, but he liked how they looked. And it had been so long since he’d looked in the mirror and thought to himself my, look at that handsome devil.

Finally he looked at the mop of his hair. It’d also been too long since he’d gotten a cut…now his messy curls fell past his shoulders when he usually preferred to keep it short enough to comb back with a bit of emollient or pomade. He was certain his mother would gripe about it and then he would have to deal with incessant fussing two fold between his mother and Tara. Still, it was dark outside–long past the time any salons would be open, so he gathered half of it up, bundling it as neatly as he could manage around his two forefingers and secured it with a two-pronged hairpin. 

He looked at the earring on his wardrobe and hedged for a moment. 

He’d been given the earring as a gift from Mystra when he’d first encountered her as a boy. He’d only stopped wearing it in the last year. Something had felt off about keeping it on–like a widower still wearing his wedding band. But it also felt wrong to leave his tower without it. It felt like a part of his identity. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he said to himself in the mirror before turning from it and striding out of his bedroom. 

…He returned not two seconds later and slipped the earring into his left ear. Damn it all. He couldn’t help what he was. A sentimental, heartbroken fool.

On his way out the door, he grabbed a hooded cloak and draped it over his shoulders. He lifted the hood, obscuring his face in shadow, hoping it would be enough to keep him from having to interact with anyone who wasn’t Tara of his mother. He considered, for a moment, casting an invisibility charm on himself…alas the concentration such a thing would require left him feeling exhausted at the thought of it. The cloak had worked for rogues and criminals for centuries. Suely it could work for him as well. 

Finally, he left the safety and control his tower afforded him and walked out into the cold, Waterdhavian night. 

A Cheeky Upstart

“Okay Elinna. Just…ring the doorbell. You’ve traveled all the way here. So just ring it,” a young woman told herself as she stood outside the wrought iron gates. “You sailed all the way from the Moonshae Islands, left every book behind, dealt with some of the worst sea sickness in all of the realms just to be here.”

Despite telling herself this, she had to shake out some of the numbness in her fingers from clenching her fists too tight. Or maybe it was just the nip in the air from the coastal evening. She couldn’t truly be sure. 

As she stood there, her green eyes caught a streak of movement in the sky–some winged creature departing from a high window of the tower. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. Maybe a gargoyle? Or a mephit? An imp?

Something churned in her gut at the thought of Gale of Waterdeep cavorting with the infernal. Perhaps that was why no one had seen him in such a long time–maybe he’d made a pact with a devil and lost some of his humanity in the exchange. Maybe she ought to just turn on her shabby heels and book passage back home. 

“You can’t do that, Elinna,” she told herself. “You already spent everything you have just to get here. You’re all in, now.”

But that was precisely why she couldn’t bring herself to tug on the chain to ring the doorbell. Who was she to show up at the door of one of the best wizards–a proper prodigy of composing strings of the weave; the apprentice of the famous Elminster, no less?

Well she knew the answer to that. 

She was desperate. That’s what she was. 

She’d been left at the Scribe’s Nest by her mother with nothing but a note and an old locket she couldn’t get open; drow craftsmanship. The note detailed her lineage as a half-drow, but begged the clerics of the temple to take her in and raise her. According to the note left in her swaddle, Elinna would be shunned and excluded by because of her impure blood. 

A shame for both her mother and Elinna herself that the Scribe’s Nest had simply moved into an old Temple of Ilmater. The inhabitants inside were nothing but glorified librarians. They may have had access to all of the books in the world, but not a single one of her guardians actually knew how to use the information inside. 

No. Instead, they tried to raise her to love cataloging the written word, but deny herself the joy of actually using anything she learned from the old dusty tomes in the temple. Even when she’d shown a natural knack for small magics, she had been discouraged from using them, leaving her with no choice but to practice in the wee hours of the night. 

She knew she hadn’t much to use as a benchmark for her growth as a burgeoning young wizard, but she thought for all of the effort she’d put in she made a half-decent self-taught magician. All she needed was some proper tutelage to become something truly magnificent. Something worthy of the tales of great wizards that she’d read. 

Which brought her here–to the first and only plan she had to seek out that higher learning. And now her future hung in the balance of whether or not her knock at the door–or rather the ring of the doorbell–would be answered. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, at her temples. He leather fingerless gloves squeaked as she flexed and clenched her fists. 

“Gah!” she cried, turning away from the gate, pacing across the narrow cobbled street, then pacing right back. She gasped in a few preparatory breaths and hopped from one soft-soled foot to the other. “Just do it, just DO it, Elinna. Just–”

The door of the tower opened, it’s underutilized hinges creaking as the man opening the door grunted. 

“Damnable–old door–why did I make you out of iron,” grumbled the voice. 

Elinna went entirely still, eyes going wide. 

Perhaps it was habit from how many times she’d had to sneak tomes away from the restricted areas of the Scribe’s Nest, but she ducked behind the stone columns holding up the wrought iron gate and watched as the cloaked figure made his way to the gate and slipped outside of it with a wave of his hand. 

She remained hidden as he looked down the road in her direction, his eyes looking too distantly to catch her small frame tucked away in the dark. 

She’d seen sketches of the Gale Dekarios before, but she couldn’t help but feel they did him no justice. The etchings seemed to have emphasized the wizened qualities of his features; the lines around his eyes, the creases around his lips. They made him look sagely and–well–old. 

But the real man, the one now standing in the flesh just a few feet from her was something different entirely. 

He showed signs of age, of course. He was a middle-aged man, after all. But his lips were fuller, his beard a little more tidy, and his eyes…

His eyes were what made him look the most youthful. There was a sort of shimmer to them that she couldn’t quite describe, a sort of weight to his brow that made him look as if he was always curious, always observing.

She watched as he pulled his cloak a little tighter around him and turned the opposite direction, walking down the narrow street. 

Wait, she thought. What am I doing?!

She hesitated for only one more moment before quickly hurrying after him. She searched her mind for all of the speeches she’d practiced for this introduction, but she was left wanting. She should have written it down so that she wouldn’t forget–or would it have been even more strange for read her introduction off the pages of a notebook? 

It was all strange, of course; a girl crossing the ocean to show up on the doorstep of a stranger several years her senior. Asking for an apprenticeship when she hadn’t so much as sent him a letter of introduction or even had anything to offer in exchange except for chores, errands and meal preparations. Seeking tutelage from one of the most accomplished young wizards when she was still struggling with even the most basic of incantations…

But what else could she do? 

The life of a Scribe Nest Archiver was not a luxurious one. She’d had to sneak out of the old Nest to sing songs at the local tavern to scrape what little money she could together to book passage to even get here. 

Blackstaff wasn’t exactly inexpensive–and even if it was, she couldn’t hope to get in. Not with how poorly she handled the weave. 

But Gale–she had read transcripts of his lectures, heard tales of how magnanimous and warm he could be. She even once met one of his friends at the tavern who was visiting the islands for this or that purpose–she couldn’t remember. She only remembered the tales of his kindness and generosity. Of his gentleman’s nature. 

He seemed like her only real chance at ever mastering this art that sang to her like a harpy at roost in the bay.

God’s he was walking fast though. Perhaps it was just because she was so short in comparison to him, but she was almost having to run to catch up to him. 

“E-excuse me,” she finally said when she was within earshot.

She saw the briefest glance back at her, the quickest flash of a startled expression, before he focused forward and quickened his pace.  

“No, thank you,” Dekarios replied. “I’ve already a subscription to the Waterdhavian times.”

“Uhm, no–that’s not–” she stammered. “Wait, could you please stop walking so fast!”

“I’m in a dreadful hurry, good night to you,” he said dismissively, walking even faster as he pulled his cloak further to guard his face. 

“Mr. Dekarios! I’ve come here to talk to you!” She shouted, a little crack of desperation coming out with it. “Mr. Dekarios I–”

He whirled on her, suddenly encroaching into her space. He was so quick that she almost stumbled backward and fell. Before she could, though, he seized her arm with one strong hand, stablizing her quickly before clasping his other hand over her mouth.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, bright irises flicking around his face as if she were prey caught in his snare.

“Shhhh,” he hissed before looking around, as if to see if anyone heard her. “Mystra’s Elbow, you’d think my reputation as a newly initiated recluse would have gotten around by now.”

Elinna swallowed dryly, critically aware of the feeling of his calloused fingertips on the soft swells of her freckled cheeks. She blinked up at him, unsure what to do. His hand felt warm through the roughspun, puffed sleeves of her Scribe’s Nest garments.  Her feet were sort of turned in awkwardly after he’s caught her mid fall. 

She wondered if it would have looked like she was being accosted by a thief to a wandering bystander. She supposed it didn’t matter because no one else was here. She knew she should have been afraid. That she was a young woman alone with an older man; that he’d rendered her silent and could easily do much worse. But she also knew that was likely the experiences at the tavern thinking for her. 

Gale was supposed to be a gentleman. That’s what she’d always heard. And…

And his hands smelled like…like tea and old parchment and sage. There was a somewhat sharp quality to the fragrance–perhaps a suspension alchemized in alcohol of some sort. He must have made it himself. 

“Now. This behavior of mine, admittedly, is abhorrent for a gentleman with a young lady. I will have to ask you to forgive my bad manners and to give me the grace of your understanding because I simply did not want to be greeted by anyone aside from my mother and my cat. Now. I am going to take my hand away from your mouth; apologies again for the rough handling. But I’m going to then need you to let me walk away. And perhaps most importantly, I need you to leave me alone,” Gale said quietly. “Do we have an accord?”

Elinna’s pale ginger brow furrowed and he tutted quietly. 

“No, no. No crinkles of the brow, no narrowing of the eyes, miss,” he scolded. “It is by mere coincidence you’ve even caught me out of my tower. By all accounts this is an anomaly of the highest order and therefore…uhm…does not count. You should just forget this ever happened. In fact, I could help you do so if you like!”

Doesn’t count? What kind of logic–that was school-boy logic! And what did he mean help her forget?! She jerked her arm away from him and, perhaps in a moment of panic he tightened his grip.

“Alright, alright! I’m going to let you go–just– remember our deal, please,” he said, releasing her arm.

He winced slightly as he hesitated to remove his other hand from her mouth. She thought he had the same expression one might have if they were about to remove a cork from a vial of smelling salts.

He released his other hand, drawing it away from her mouth. 

“Mr. Dekarios, I’ve come to ask you to take me on as an apprentice,” Elinna blurted out. “I know you have never met me, and that you have no notion of my ability or skill. And that showing up outside of a strangers house and asking them for a place to live–”

“I’m sorry, a place to live?” He interjected with an incredulous tone

“--and a comprehensive education in the arcane arts–” she continued.

“I assure you I do not have the time, and it certainly wouldn’t be proper for an older man to bring a young woman into his home to–” he interjected again. 

“ But I have nowhere else to turn and…And I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

His brows shot up as she finally stopped speaking. She didn’t know what to make of that expression, nor the silence that followed. Elinna could feel her face beginning to warm and she knew from  that her face was already starting to color with her own nerves. It felt the same way it did when a tavern patron made a bawdy joke at her expense–or about her body. 

The silence was the most unbearable part, though. So she started to fill it, her face getting warmer by the moment.

“You’re silent,” she said. “Uh–right. Names. I’m Elinna Inklyn. I hail from the Moonshae Islands. I grew up under the care of the Scribe’s Nest Archivists and–”

“Elinna. Elinna,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

She felt her heart sink as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back, looking toward the sky. “Look, Miss Inklyn. I’m sorry that you came all this way, but. I am afraid you must take no as an answer. I cannot take on an apprentice, even if I wanted to.” He winced and almost half shrugged. “And frankly, I really do not want to. Even if I could do it, I wouldn’t want to do it.”

“But–if you’d let me explain–” she protested. 

“No–no buts. Again, I am dreadfully sorry for the trouble you went through to get here. But…considering that you sought me out and addressed me by name, you must know who I am.” he said. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“So, then you know that I am particularly gifted with manipulating the weave,” he said. “That’s why you’ve sought me out.”

“Yes,” she said yet again. “Well part of the reason but also because–”

“So, then I’m sure you could understand why I find the inadequacies of unskilled wizards irksome, correct? That if I were to take on an apprentice, it would be someone with a certain level of innate talent?”

Her brow furrowed again and she inhaled to speak, but before another word could fall out of her mouth a huge boom of sound tore out from the sky above them. She clapped her gloved hands over her ears and yelped.

“What was that?” she shouted. 

The two looked up at the source of the sound only to see the sky split open like it’d been torn by a dull blade. Out of the opening flew a giant aircraft with writhing tentacles slicing through the air as if it were a squid traversing deep sea waters. The two wizards–one novice and one adept–balked at the appearance of the spelljammer, the size of it practically the size of Gale’s tower if you laid it on its side.

“A nautiloid?” They both said at the same time. 

They met eyes briefly before Gale gritted his teeth and grasped onto her arm, almost flinging her away from him

“Get out of here, Elinna. And whatever you do don’t let the tentacles touch you,” he shouted. 

She stumbled, almost falling on her face, looking back at him. 

“What about you?!” she cried. 

“I’m a wizard,” he said before turning and casting a bolts of ice at two of the tentacles that swatted out toward them. 

“It’s a spelljammer!”

“I’m a very, very good wizard!” he said. 

Elinna’s sense of self preservation won out over her worry for the man she’d come here to meet. If he thought he could take on a nautiloid, who was she to deny that? She turned and sprinted down the narrow street before dodging down an alleyway in hopes of getting cover from the massive tentacles that now swept down toward the ground like great, giant whips. 

She chanced a single look back to see Gale running just behind her, and the spelljammer that was traveling far too quickly and far too low to the ground for comfort. He followed her down the alleyway, calling ahead. “Not that way! To the east–”

“I don’t know which way east is!” she shouted back. 

“Are you kiddi–Eugh–LEFT,” he said. “LEFT, LEFT! Go LEFT!”

“Alright, I heard you!” she said. “No need to shout!”

“I will shout if I want to, now–Elinna, look out!”

She looked ahead just in time to see a brick wall and slipped on her worn soles as she tried to come to a screeching halt. 

She slammed into the wall, but thankfully not with enough force to knock her out.  She managed to clumsily tumble toward the left, dropping onto her fingertips just a moment before lurching back upright. Gale caught up to her and cast some spell–gust, she assumed– because a strong wind caught in the fabric of her clothes like a breeze in the sails of a galeon and made her feel like she was running on air. 

He fought off another tentacle and she screamed as one almost tagged her, but smashed an old fish barrel to bits instead.

“Keep going. We’ll lose it on the main road,” Gale yelled.  

They spilled out onto a wider street and she immediately regretted listening to the Waterdhavian native. It’d seemed a sound plan at first. But only if the goal of the ship was to find them specifically. When they made it to the street, Elinna realized that was not the drive of the nautiloid at all. 

The main road was chaos. There were carts toppled over and people lying trampled on the ground. People ran and screamed, some of them were swatted by the terrifying power of the tentacles only to vanish into dust before they could make impact with the wall of a building or the floor below them.

Elinna froze in terror, realizing finally that her plight had gone from one of trying to secure a teacher of her own to one of simply trying to survive her first night on the mainland. It suddenly dawned on her that she might actually die here. She might die within moments. 

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

It was a mistake to stop, but she realized it too late. A horse cried out desperately and tore away from the frightening vessel. It tore straight toward her, its eyes wild, his nose gusting tufts of steam into the air like a machine. It pulled a market cart along with it, full of heavy barrels of meat and wine. She braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking about the magic she’d read about. Misty step–misty step, what was the incantation for misty step?

“I-Inveniam Viam!!” she shouted, the words sailing on waves of the weave and almost…echoing. There was the sweet taste of something on her tongue–the after effect of using the weave if her reading was any indication. She’d only tasted that once or twice before, but chasing that sweet, comforting experience was what brought her here. It’s what made her so desperately want to learn how to wield this magic.

When she opened her eyes, the horse was gone.

Unfortunately for her, so was the ground beneath her feet. 

She’d somehow teleported into midair and, as if the weave was just as shocked as she was, she’d wound up suspended there for just the briefest moment, cradled by the strands of the weave she’d managed to manipulate. Seconds felt like minutes as he copper hair floate away from her face as she experienced true weightlessness for just moments. Then she felt the sickening churn in her stomach as she started to fall. 

The floor just far enough to be lethal but not far enough to give her adequate time to figure out another spell. Her mind went blank with terror. In a moment of desperation, she found Gale in the crowd, a stationary man in a sea of fleeing people. 

He looked at her in abject horror as she dropped like a dagger out of the sky. He looked utterly, woefully helpless.

She screamed, wrapping her arms around her as if she could brace her own fall, as if holding herself would hold her together.

Then, just as she was about to splat on the cobblestones into a puddle of bone and blood, a searing heat bloomed from the center of her back. She screamed again as she felt herself dissolve from the inside out, her innards liquifying into a primordial soup. 

Her body went miserably hot, and then impossibly cold. No. Not cold–she realized–absent. She was vanishing from the center of her body. She watched in uncomprehending horror as her middle vanished, watched as her body evaporated like steam off a teacup. 

Her guttural scream sounded from her and died in the air. 

The last thing she saw before her vision went black was Gale still staring at her as he too succumbed to the nautiloid’s attack.

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part V

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6200 Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, slight family angst aka daddy issues? I'm terrible at these

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here

Summary: Set at the end of Act II, after Moonrise Towers and Kethric. Reader/Tav leans on Astarion and reveals more about their family and their story from before the Nautiloid.

Notes: I've emerged from my cave I made on the couch in my basement and finally finished this update! I got bronchitis a week or so ago and it kicked my booty, but I'm finally feeling better!! YAY! I have no voice still, but good thing I don't need that to write fanfiction!

So this update reveals more of our Selune blessed Tav's backstory that is based off my original D&D character. I was really hung up on whether or not I should include more backstory and lore for this GN!Tav/Reader, since it isn't very typical for a lot of the gn!reader fics I've read. But it was giving me such writers block if I did not include it, as I honestly have the rest of this fic completely planned out and the endgame I have for this pairing relies on more of this backstory, so I decided to include it! Also, its my fic… and my character sooo I hope you enjoy my baby and the little story I wrote for them five years ago. This character will have a special place in my heart forever, and I'm excited to share more of them with you all!

I also desperately wanted to include a scene of Astarion and Tav/Reader kissing for the first time since his confession and them setting boundaries about physical intimacy and contact. I know the game just lets you click the kiss option right away, but I like to think its something that Astarion would build himself up to again and would maybe even have to relearn — not kissing like it was a performance, but instead an expression.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me and every time I see a notification! It fills me with infinite joy ♡♡♡ I know there is lots of posts circulating about this and tags get filled with it, but reblogs and comments are so so appreciated!! :)

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He wasn’t sure how you did it. Astarion was exhausted, beyond that actually — shattered. His feet were stiff and aching, his mind fuzzy with weariness. Yet you were still smiling, accepting the gratitude of every single person at the Last Light Inn with humble nods and smiles. He’d never had a longer day in his life. The temple, the Shadowfell, Shadowheart, Moonrise Towers, the goddamn Absolute. Gale... Gods, you had talked down Gale from fulfilling the desire and demands of an actual goddess. All in one day. All he wanted to do was to fall into a bed with you, and sleep. To just pretend for one moment that there wasn’t any marching armies or impending vampire masters waiting in Baldur's Gate. To ignore the thrum of anxiety and fear that coursed through him as he remembered exactly what was carved into his back — what Raphael had finally revealed to him. Just for today, he had wanted to rest. But no — the end of this never ending day was to finish with a celebration. An annoying, lively celebration.  The vampire was being stereotypical as ever — standing in a shadowy corner, moody and silent as he nursed a red glass. It was wine. Gale had found a decadent bottle, buried away and forgotten about on some dusty shelf. The wizard had made an eloquent toast to the group gathered on the bottom floor of the inn. But he was now standing with Wyll — the two of them conversing politely with a pair of obviously flirtatious tieflings. Karlach had her arm wrapped around Damon, the two of them chatting enthusiastically and laughing.  Astarion was surprised to not see Shadowheart by Karlach — the two of them inseparable as of late. No, what was more shocking was that the dark-haired cleric was sat next to Lae’zel. Their mouths barely opening as they spoke to each other in low voices, buried under the noise of the celebration in the inn.  He almost choked on the sip he had just taken as his red eyes finally returned to you — where several people were forming a makeshift line to speak with you. The next one more bashful than the last as they leaned in to speak with you, all flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes.  You always had a certain charm about you, an innate ability to draw out easy smiles and laughs from others. You were also undeniably attractive — anyone who said otherwise would be a blind idiot. But other people being enraptured by you had never bothered him before. He had just silently agreed with them — that yes, you were indeed a prize like no other.  But you were his now, weren’t you? As he was yours. Even without the label or words that he still couldn’t figure out how to say. That he was too afraid to say. Regardless, why were you entertaining these fools?

He'd not felt this before — was it jealousy? Gods, he was being like a petulant child who didn't want to share their toy. You were a person, you could make your own decisions. That was the entire point of all of this. 

What was he going to do — follow you around like a lost puppy? Drape himself over you, clutch onto you like a coat so others would see he was with you? 

You must have felt his red eyes piercing through you as you suddenly flicked your eyes over to meet his gaze. Your face instantly brightened, a smile tugging on your lips. An overwhelming sense of relief went through him as you waved apologetically to the small group in front of you, before weaving your way over to his dark corner. 

"Yes, darling?" He drawled as you approached, trying to hide any emotion betraying on his face as he tipped his wine glass in front of it and took another sip. 

"Why are you hiding away in this corner? Not feeling like being paraded around like a hero?" You said sarcastically. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at you, replying dryly, "I am many things, but a hero, I am not."

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice until it was just a whisper. "I would beg to differ. But you have a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

He barked out a laugh, before flicking you in the nose gently. "You cheeky pup." 

"Ow." You feigned, scrunching your face up at him. "That hurt." 

A wave of courage swept through him as he pushed back the little voice in his head. He leaned forward and pecked his lips onto the tip of your nose. He hoped the tingle that spread across his lips as they met your skin would spread to you. It seemed it did as your skin then flashed a delicious, brilliant shade from surprise. A tiny squeak even escaped you, your eyebrows shooting up. 

You had not kissed, not since his confession. Not since all of this had started. Not a brush of lips against hands or cheeks, nothing. The look on your face and the sudden increase in the thrum of your heart had him feeling light headed. Did he truly have such an effect on you? 

For a moment, he let his gaze from you lapse as he swept his eyes across the inn. To the disappointed glances of a few partygoers, and the knowing looks of his companions, watching the pair of you interact. 

A flash of gratification went through him, satisfied at the effect he had not just on you but at those who had eyed you before. It squashed the jealously that had made a pit in his stomach, instead twisting it with a new, slowly recognizable feeling. 

"There, all better?" He smirked. 

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding at him. 

Astarion rubbed his lips together, the tingling sensation on them lingering still. "How much longer does the Hero of the Shadowlands need to stay down here?"

You looked over your shoulder to the gathered patrons, the crowd thinning out more and more as the evening faded into a dark, late night. "Bored already?" 

He let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders droop. "Exhausted, darling. And I know you are too." 

You were always a sight to see, holding a beauty he could have never imagined or conjured up in his head. But he could see the purple circles under your eyes, the usual sparkle in them had long gone dull. 

Your eyes flickered to your boots, nodding your head in defeat. "You're right." 

"I believe they have set some rooms aside for us, if you wish—"

"Do you?" You caught him off, trying to hide your own eagerness.  

His gaze softened, a smile tugging on his lips, "Very much so."

The pair of you bid goodnight to your companions quietly, subtle nods and waves as they continued their own conversations or headed to their own rooms. Astarion walked slightly behind you on the stairs, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you led the way.  The path you took was familiar, the worn floor boards creaking before you were outside the private room the two of you had occupied once before.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door softly behind him, the sounds from the lingering party below muffled and leaving you in a peaceful quiet. But as he found reprieve in finally being alone, you suddenly crumbled.

You dived for the bed, a heartbreaking sob escaping you as your hands covered your face. 

Your name choked out him before he crossed the room quickly and joined you on the edge of the mattress. Gods, what was it about this Inn and room that had you breaking apart on it? "Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etching every feature.

"I- I, didn't-"

He remembered your words earlier today — gods, was that today? How comforting his touch was for you, being reminded of his presence. He placed his hand carefully on your own that was trembling on your thigh as you tried to speak. 

You finally gasped out, "She wasn't there, she wasn't-"

Mol. The little tiefling girl. You had promised those rascal children downstairs you'd find her. And it was you who had told them she wasn't in Moonrise tonight, swallowing deeply as they dipped their heads with disappointment. But you had told them not to give up hope, that she was resourceful and strong. You had sounded so convincing that even he had believed you. 

But here you were, sobbing and breaking apart in front of him. "Oh, sweetheart. Gods, I should have seen this, I'm sorry."

You sniffled, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shining with understanding, "I know you better by now. It was a mask you were wearing tonight...," He tucked a stray hair back behind your ear. "I hate it when you wear it."

"I just wanted everyone to be okay, I tried so hard..." Your voice cracked and broke. 

"You've done so much, darling. Look at what we did today, that was because of you." 

You always took care of everyone else. But who took care of you? Astarion thought, perhaps... him. He could… he would.

He had been.

"Oh my little moon, you don't have to carry the world by yourself, you know?" 

You sniffled and nodded, silver still lining the bottoms of your eyes. 

"May I?" He echoed the question you so often asked of him. You'd never touched him without asking the question first. Your consent you'd granted him was a separate conversation, one where you had told him casual, simple touches were okay. A silent conversation and agreement sometimes was exchanged with a look of your eyes. But with him, you had always asked. He thought that now he would return that favor to you, as you opened yourself to him — vulnerable and upset once again on the edge of this mattress. 

He hoped you appreciated the sentiment, as much as he did.

The vampire reached down, hovering his hands over your boots. Your brows furrowed slightly before you were nodding. Your eyes never left his pale fingers as he untied the laces of your boots, gently prying them off before setting them down neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to his own before he slid his way up the bed, leaning against the headboard before patting the spot next to him. 

"Come here." 

You hesitated, before beginning to scooch over to him. When he opened his arms as a silent invitation you hesitated again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please come here." He nodded solemnly.  

Astarion willed himself to keep steady and clear, drawing a breath he truly did not need. He enveloped you in his arms as you laid next to him, trying to stop his limbs for stiffening. It was all so foreign, it was terrifying. 

But your familiar scent filled his nose, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat with your chest pressed to his side. His fingers laxed as you settled into him, bunching into the material of your shirt. Your breaths started calming and eyes fluttering as you laid with him. 

"Is this okay?" You whispered — uncertainty laced every word. 

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."  He said softly, before swallowing thickly. "I don't know what I'm doing." You started to remove your limbs his, but he tightened his hold on you. "Don't, please."

"Astarion if you aren't comfortable—"

"I am, it's not that." He rubbed the soft material of your shirt between his fingers as he spoke, "I want so badly to be this for you, to be what you need. But I don't know how."

You craned your neck up to look at him, "I think you're doing a good job of it."

He looked down at you through his long lashes, "Truly?"

"Yes, Astarion." You sounded genuine, "No one... no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

He let out a sigh of contentment, settling in deeper with you before resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know we have so much left to do... But laying here with you. It makes it worth it."

"Are you scared?" You asked in a whisper. 

"Terrified, actually." He admitted. 

Your thumb rubbed across his stomach in smooth lines back and forth, "I will be with you every step of the way."

"That's part of what makes it all so terrifying." The vampire whispered, "Sometimes, I know that I couldn't do any of this without you by my side. But other times... when Ketheric turned into that thing, that abomination, with you looking so small in front of him..."

"I know." 

Astarion moved his head so he could look at your face, "You were right though." 

"Hmmm?" You hummed. 

"This is nice. Gods, when did I get so soft?" He chuckled, the movement of his chest vibrating your head until you joined him. 

Both of your faces were etched with bliss and contentment as you laid in the bed. On this bed where before he had laid awake, willing himself to fall into a trance, convincing himself to keep his distance from you, trying to protect himself from the inevitably of you. 

Now, you both fell asleep like that, still in your regular attire, wrapped in each other's arms with your head buried on his chest.

The stars caressing their moon. 

• • •

The journey towards Baldur's Gate was turbulent and nerve-wracking while also... hopeful. 

The group was buzzing with energy — the anticipation of returning to Baldur's Gate had made some of your companions restless in more ways then one. 

You were all sat for a short rest, relaxing in a patch of long, green grass just off of the dirt road you were traveling on. It was just your group now, the other parties and groups had begun moving at different paces and times until it was just your familiar companions now. 

Astarion was laid out in the grass, his head resting on your lap and your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his soft, white tresses. His eyes were closed, basking in the glow of the sun that was set high in the sky at this time of day. Occasionally the shadows on his face would bounce as his long lashes flickered, opening his eyes to glance at you with a dreamy expression on his face. 

It made your movements stutter each time you noticed it. But the grip he had on your heart — that was steady and true. He had possessed you in a way you still could not articulate, even all these weeks later. 

But you blinked back to reality as Gale's voice broke the silence. "You're a beautiful couple." 

You looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face from being noticed. Astarion craned his neck, his red eyes rolling back to look at the wizard before settling back into your lap with a disinterested look crossing his face. 

"Oh, I'm sorry... I'm made things awkward, haven't I?" Gale mumbled, his hands twirling with the blades of grass in front of him. 

You couldn't help the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at the attention. Especially as you realized the rest of your companions were looking over with small smirks. 

Gale continued as you remained silent, "I just meant that... Well, its nice to see my friends so happy. That's all." 

"Thank you, Gale." Astarion drawled, readjusting himself so he laid deeper on your lap. 

The wizard blinked in surprise, "You're welcome. Are you — is it a secret, or?"

"Not a secret, no." The vampire purred with a shake of his head. 

"We are just taking our time." You finished, a soft smile growing on your face to match the one spreading across Astarion's. 

"Hmm, that's nice." Gale trailed off, a wistful expression on his face. 

Before the silence could really settle in again, the rest of the party started a conversation up. 

"Won't be long now until we get to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said, his face hard to read. 

"Are you nervous?" Karlach stretched her long leg, nudging him in the ankle playfully. 

His mouth scrunched and nose crinkled, "I... I don't know how to feel."

"I can't fucking wait! I'll be able to show you guys my old stomping grounds!" The barbarian said excitedly, falling back dramatically into the grass with her limbs spread wide. She addressed you, shouting up to the blue sky, "What about you, Giggles? Excited to see home again?"

"Oh," Your fingers froze, hovering over Astarion's hair. "I had only lived in the city for just under a year. Home will always be in the north."

"The north? I don't think I've heard you speak of your home much." Shadowheart asked quietly, a quizzical look on her face. 

"I, yes— near the Ice Spires." Your mouth twitched.

"You hail from a noble line, yes?" Gale asked. Everyone was eyeing you with curiosity, even Astarion still stretched out on your lap. His red eyes shifting slightly as he studied you. 

You swallowed, painting on a polite smile before speaking, "My father is a Viscount. He is a formidable figure in the region." 

"Ah." The warlock grimaced, his eyes sad. "Why do I get the feeling our stories are more similar than I realize?"

You bristled. "I'm not exiled or anything... It's just been some time. That's all."

"That's all?" 

A humorless laugh escaped you, "I am a second born child. And my older brother is much more obedient and better suited to the game of politics than I am." You couldn't help the sad, bitter smile that spread across your face. The thought of home stung in more ways then one. 

Astarion noticed how tense you had become, his hand squeezing your knee as he pushed himself up with a dramatic huff. "We are never going to get to the city if we sit here lounging all day." 

You shot him a grateful look, and he gave you the slightest nod in recognition as he offered his hand to lift you up. He did so easily, brushing off blades of grass lingering on you both gently. 

"You were the one complaining not long ago about how long we had been walking for!" Gale said, sounding completely exasperated as Wyll helped him up.   

"Me? I said that? I don't think so." The rogue playfully scoffed, shaking his head so his soft curls bounced dramatically. He looked over his shoulder at you with a conspiratorial smile before stretching his hand out for you. His fingers intertwined with yours easily as he pulled you along the dirt path, away from the questioning and burning curiosity of the rest of the party. 

• • •

Your group finally settled down for the night — picking a small clearing just off of the well-worn, dirt path you had been traveling down. Perhaps the last time you would be sleeping in the wilderness. You would be at Wyrm's Crossing by midafternoon tomorrow. 

Astarion had set up your tent on the edge of camp, attempting to give you both some sense of privacy from your busybody companions. He knew they meant well, that they hadn't meant for this afternoon to turn into an interrogation. That, like him, they were just curious to know more about you. As kind and good you were to all of them, you were still somewhat of a mystery. You had revealed the origins of your powers to the group yes, but you rarely spoke about yourself or your home.

Not even to him. 

The vampire had been content to let it lie. He knew it would come with time — and he certainly couldn't make any demands of you. Not after how gracious and patient you had been with him. But he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to know more. Astarion had somehow become an open book with you — revealing and exploring parts of himself that he had buried down so deep that he was surprised he could find them. 

He worried that it all had been about him for so long. His trauma, his past, his goals. That maybe you had kept parts of yourself hidden away, on the back burner for him. 

You had your back turned to him at the moment, the golden flickering of the candles in the tent illuminating the curve of your spine and freckles across your bare skin. Your muscles stretched and tensed beautifully as you lifted your arms over your head —pulling your nightclothes over yourself as you changed in the corner. It was a boundary that was set much earlier, that he had slowly started making less and less strict. 

He wasn't ready for anything more yet — he knew that. But his red eyes couldn't help but roam your figure. He couldn't help the familiar sensation of want twisting low in his stomach, the twitch of his fingers at his side as he imagined running his fingertips over your soft skin again.  

The smile you gave him as you turned around was dazzling, even in the dim light and tight space of the shared tent. You joined him cross-legged in the center of the tent, both of you not quite ready to go to sleep just yet. 

He picked at his nail for a moment, trying to seem nonchalant as he opened his pink mouth to speak. "So... the Ice Spires?"

You raised a single eyebrow, a hard to read look crossing the rest of your features. "Yes?" 

His fingers continued to fidget in front of him. "It's cold... all the time?"

"Not all the time. Our winters can be brutal though." You said with a scrunched nose. 

"Oh, what a lovely sell. I can't wait to go now!" He said sarcastically. 

"Ha." You laughed dryly, before your voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful honestly... I miss it."

The vampire studied your face as you undoubtedly saw visions of your home in your mind's eye. The edges of his lips curved up as he remembered your promise to take him there one day. He broke you out of your daydream with a quiet cough before he spoke again, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But why did you leave there, darling?"

Your eyes flashed to the floor of the tent, your mouth forming a hardline. "Promise me you won't be upset?" Your voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyebrows furrowed together at your reaction. He took two fingers, dipping them under your chin so you would look up at him. "Why would I be upset? You leaving home for whatever reason is why you are here now. With me."

Your eyes softened with his answer, before you nodded. Yet you still licked your lips nervously before speaking, "Well... you know that Selûne told my mother I would be destined for a different path then the life of nobility. My mother agreed to it all those years ago, both my parents knew and yet... they still hoped they could reel it all back in. That enough etiquette and language lessons would shape me into the perfect child they hoped I would be. But it was never me. I tried for them, I really did. Instead I started to fantasize about the people in our history lessons like they were characters in a book, and I spoke too loud and laughed at the wrong moment at dinner." 

Astarion couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he imagined you as a child — your face round and soft with innocence, your brilliant smile with missing teeth. The havoc that you would have caused, racing down wealthy halls as you acted out scenes from your books and danced in an empty ballroom with your melodic laugh echoing in the space. A piece of himself he had long forgotten about twinged inside him. He couldn't remember his own childhood anymore — it was lost to the last two hundred years of darkness. But something warmed in him as he dreamed up what yours was like. 

He snapped back to reality as you spoke again. "But I had a duty. I'm the second born, I wasn't being primed to one day take over for our father and run the keep, but I could be used in other ways. I've known of it since I was twelve."

His white brows furrowed again, "Known what?"

"When I became of age I would be married off to secure wealth and political ties with other territories. I'm engaged... technically." You admitted. 

His eyes dropped immediately to your fingers, the several jewels that adorned them from the moment he met you. He had never thought anything of them — thinking they were an artful display of rings that matched your personality and appearance well. But there it was — a golden ring of much higher quality then the rest, with a large ruby sitting in the center of it. Gods, how had he missed that. 

"Oh my gods. I'm a homewrecker." Then he burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his hands holding his stomach as he howled.

"Astarion, you'll wake up half the camp!" You leaned forward and hissed. 

"I'm sorry, I just —" He let out between gasps of breath, "It's so funny. Of course the person I fall for is to be wed to someone else."

You joined his chuckles, shaking your head. "It is like a cliché plotline from some terrible drama."

"It is! Or like a punchline to some joke. Did you hear the one about the vampire and the fiancé?" You both laughed for a moment, before he clutched onto your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  

"So you aren't upset?" Your voice a whisper again, uncertainty flooded every word. 

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?" 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, "Astarion, I just told you I am betrothed to another person."

"And you are on the other side of the continent from them. Not married. And sitting in my tent. Is this why you left?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Yes, we planned it all out actually— my betrothed and I." 

"Really?"

You nodded, "They had also spent the last years troubling over it, attempting to delay it for as long as possible." 

"I'm assuming getting kidnapped by mind flayers was not apart of that plan?" He said with a smirk. 

"Definitely not. I so badly wanted to travel, to see the world outside of our keep I'd known my whole life. So... they insisted to my family that they needed a spouse that was learned and well-traveled. That I could enroll in a college to become a more suitable match."

Astarion raised a white brow, "And that worked?"

"It did. I think my father was so desperate for it all to work out that they just agreed."

"And how did you attending a college lead you to Baldur's Gate so many miles away from home?" 

You let out a dry chuckle, "I will say that I did go to the college like I intended. I lasted a week. Just long enough to purchase supplies and stationary from the college before paying for a spot on the next wagon out of Silverymoon." 

"Stationary?"

"I've been sending letters home for the past year, using stationary from the college so my family believes I'm still there studying and being a model citizen." 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his lips. "I'm impressed. That's very conniving... I didn't know you had it in you."

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'll admit it was a clever idea. I ran out of supplies about a month before the Nautiloid." 

He pursed his lips as he finally understood, "They haven't heard from you since then?"

You shook your head, "No. I imagine my father has sent some of his men to check on me, and they have long discovered that I took back my tuition deposit and left months and months ago." 

"This whole time we were worried about a vampire master storming our camp, when really it could have been a disgruntled father or worried mother finding us?"

A large exhale left your nose as you shook your head, "Oh, my father would never come himself. He would just send his second-best men and a strongly worded letter ordering me back home. My mother though... I can only imagine how she betrayed and worried she feels." 

The vampire squeezed your hand again before running his thumb along the backs of your knuckles. "Why did you never tell me this?" 

"Astarion, the hardship and abuse that you went through...," Your eyes shined with pain, "My story is nothing compared to yours."

"Your story is not nothing." He shook his head, his voice earnest. "Your story is you — and you are everything. Never spare parts of yourself from me." 

"Even the messy parts that years of etiquette lessons couldn't train away?"

He let out a breathy laugh before smiling at you, "Especially those parts, my lovely moon." 

"You have gone soft on me, Starry." You teased before matching his smile. 

• • •

After another day of travel, you stood in the abandoned castle in Wyrm's Crossing, bracing yourself on the stone wall. The skyline of Baldur's Gate could be seen from here, the distant sound of the bell's ringing heard even from here. 

Your party had finally made it — after all of these weeks. You would walk the familiar cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. The familiar scents and sounds of vendors and citizens, the bustle and crowds would be so different from the wilderness and forests you had been traveling through. 

The group's energy was buzzing as you settled for camp in the abandoned castle — a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Astarion hadn't hidden his feelings with you — his anxieties and insecurities surfacing with every step closer and closer to the city limits. With every step closer to Cazador and his ritual. Hundreds of different ideas were bouncing around his head, you could tell. 

Yet your confession to him last night was still replaying in your head, especially as your stared at the ring on your left finger — the red gem catching the light. You weren't sure why you wore it anymore. A habit, you guessed. 

The sound of purposeful, shuffling feet announced that you were no longer alone. Craning your neck you looked over to see the man who normally consumed your thoughts, climbing the stone steps that led up to the falling apart battlements you stood on.

"What are you doing up here, darling?" 

"Just taking a moment."  You admitted as you loosed a heavy breath. "And you?"

"Oh, just over pretending to be interested the idle chat by the fire." Astarion waved his hand, before sliding in next to you. He braced his elbows onto the edge looking out over to the skyline. You watched him take a deep steadying breath, his eyebrow crinkled with worry for a moment. 

You fiddled unconsciously with the golden ring on your left hand as you watched him. The movement caught the vampire's attention, his red eyes snapping to it before looking up at you. He chewed the inside of his lip, before speaking, "Can I ask you a question?"

Your stomach tightened with sudden nerves, "Of course."

"This wedding... Your arranged marriage." 

"Hmm?" You hummed. 

His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Would you have gone through with it? If there was no Nautiloid, no tadpole — none of this. Would you have gone through with the arrangement?"

A heavy sigh escaped you as you pushed your elbows off of the stone edge and stood up, "I would have... I would have tried. It felt inevitable before — inescapable."

He shifted around, so he was facing you — standing to his full height and looking you in the eyes. "And now?" He whispered, his long fingers reaching to brush the insides of your wrist lightly.

"Astarion... I never could have imagined any of this. I spent my whole life fantasizing and daydreaming of an escape and grand adventure. Nothing I've dreamed up has ever come close to being with you. I have fought mind flayers and ogres, refused Gods and marched across the country so that we can keep going. So that we can have a chance. I will take my father's disappointment and wrath for ruining his plans for financial security." 

"Heh — We can add him to the list of people we've angered along the way." He joked, but his eyes were glimmering with unspoken emotion after your declaration. 

You studied the handsome man before you, your lips parting slightly as you took him in. He was radiant in the moonlight, his white hair and pale skin shining. The way his usually sharp eyes softened and rounded as he looked at you.

Gods, you loved him. You had known for sometime now that you did. The words had been crawling up your throat, lingering on your tongue and swirling in your mind for days. But you would be patient for him. 

One side of his pink mouth turned up, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Your head cocked to the side, "Like what?"

"You..." He seemed like he was at a loss for words for a moment. He shook his head at himself, before he admitted in a whisper, "They way you look at me... you make me feel like I'm poetry."

"You are, Astarion." You said simply. Courage suddenly flooded through you. You knew you would be fine, no matter how he answered. You wouldn't dare rush him. But you wanted to ask tonight. "May I — May I kiss you?" 

He blinked in surprise before his red eyes flicked down to your lips and he unconsciously licked his own. Then he locked eyes with you, nodding breathlessly. "Yes," He whispered back, his long lashes fluttering. "Yes."

Moving your hands up slowly and gently, your fingertips gripped the side of his strong jaw. You heard his breath sharpen as you moved your face to meet his — slowly, giving him time and space, allowing him to change his mind and pull away. But he didn't. Instead his eyes closed softly, his head tilting towards yours as he waited for you to kiss him. Then your lips locked as your mouth pressed softly against his, carefully as you waited to see if he would kiss you back. A low noise escaped you as you felt his lips press harder against yours, returning the kiss. 

You had long thought of your first kiss with Astarion in the woods near the Druid's Grove all that time ago. You thought you had memorized the sweet taste of him on your lips, the scent of leather lingering from his armor and groans that made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

But this — this was so different. Not practiced, not ritualistic like he so often said. 

This new first kiss was so painfully soft and tender. He tasted like wine, rosemary and honey. His hair softer then you remembered as your finger toyed with the curled tips at the base of his neck. The happiest of sounds escaped him as he parted his lips for you, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your tongue slid across his teeth. You both stood like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling until you both felt dizzy. Your lips stuck together slightly as you pulled away. His forehead was pushed against yours, like he was no longer content to not be touching you. 

Astarion's eyes were ablaze in the moonlight as he looked at you, his mouth falling open as he caught his breath. "Again. Kiss me, again.” “Starry?” You asked, your brow twitched. “Kiss me. Please. I miss it, I've missed you." One of his hands gripped the tip of your chin as you moved your mouth back towards him, halving the movement as he pulled you back in for another kiss. The other intertwining with yours in between you, squeezing your fingers gently. 

His sharp teeth dug into your bottom lip, causing a shudder to run down your spin. "Slow down, my love." Your groaned out.

"I have — weeks of this — to catch up on." His voice was breathless and he continued to interrupt his own words as he pressed lips to yours over and over. 

You pulled away, studying his face — the skin around his mouth pink from kissing, a slight flush crossing his complexion. But his eyes were fixed on you, filled with want and need. "I'm not going anywhere, Astarion. We have time." 

"Good. " He beamed, resting his forehead on yours again as you both breathed each other in. The two of you silhouetted on the crumpling battlements as you held on to each other for a moment longer.  

Read Part VI here

[pikapeppa]

Karlach/Dammon: Burning Blue

A wish fulfillment fic to answer the question: what if Dammon was the lucky guy to break Karlach's ten-year celibacy streak?

NSFW smut, ~7500 words, from Karlach's precious POV. This takes place the same night that Dammon makes Karlach very touchable again. 🥰 Read here on AO3 instead.

*****************

I’m nervous. Gods, I’m fucking nervous. No, no, don’t be nervous, Big K, you’ve got this. It’s nothing you haven’t done before! It’s just a good old-fashioned come-on, that’s all. Just a good old-fashioned invitation for Dammon to do the beast with two backs with you. No sweat, nothing to worry about, no reason to feel like your engine’s gonna thrum its way right out of your chest.

Ugh, fine, I’m nervous. I’ll admit it, all right? I’m nervous. But how can you blame me? It’s been a decade since I laid a finger on another living soul. One who wasn’t a hellspawn or trying to kill me, I should say. Yeah, the Avernus kind of laying-a-finger-on-someone is really not what I have in mind right now.

All right, there he is. I mean, of course he’s there, it’s his smithy setup in the barn, where the fuck else would be be? Shit, I’m so nervous. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want to hit the bedroll with me? I might just crumble up into a pile of ash on the spot if he turns me down…

Ohhh, no you don’t. No more doubt. Not another negative word, you hear me? We’re doing this. Come on, soldier, shape up, be confident, all right? Just be your usual big beautiful bold badass self, just like Brynn said. Back straight, head high, tail-barb up: come on, girl, you can do this.

“Dammon! Hi! How’s the hammering going?” Nice, good start. Solid greeting, nothing weird about that.

“Karlach!” he says. “You’re back. I thought you were off to camp for the night.”

He’s smiling at me. Gods, does he ever have a nice smile. It’s like his whole face gets lit up with sunshine. And those eyes? Phwoar. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him how pretty his eyes are. Like two big blue jewels. Or like lightning turned into jewels. Wait, what’s all this nonsense I’m saying? I think I’ve been spending too much time with Gale. Ha, saying something would be a good idea right about now, wouldn’t it?

“Yeah, I’m back. I was wondering, do you — are you done for the day?” It looks like he’s done for the day. His forge is still hot, but it’s just coals now rather than a big old fire. Gods, I hope he’s done for the day.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up,” he says (yay!). “Did you need something repaired? I can rekindle the fire, it’s no problem—”

“No, no, all good. Everything’s tip-top, thanks to you. Listen, I was wondering: d’you want to have a drink with me?”

His whole face lights up, and my gods, I swear: if I had a heart, it would’ve done a fluttery thing like something from a romance book. “That sounds great. Let’s go on inside.” He hangs up his apron, and then we’re heading to the inn.

Yes! First step done, we’re off to a cracking good start! Here we go, inside the inn for a drink, just me and Dammon. How great is this? I mean, not that it’s not wonderful being with Brynn and Wyll and all the rest of those adorable little dumplings, but there’s something special to be said about being alone with just you and the person you’ve got mad horns for.

Here we are, at the door to the inn — and Dammon touches my shoulder. “Go ahead.”

He’s touching my shoulder. His hand, that strong callused hand on my shoulder. He’s touching me, he can touch me, and it’s all thanks to him. Gods, I want to ride him until the sun comes up.

Keep it together, Karlach. Stay cool until you find out if he wants this too. Ha, stay cool! I can sort of almost do that now! Enough for touching, at least, which is all I want in the world right now, and Dammon is touching my shoulder, and… and I should probably get inside the inn now.

I step inside — quick little rub of Darkmaw’s paw for luck. Ooh, Jaheira is still awake, I love her, she’s so damned cool!

Dammon leads me to one of the tables near the bar. “What can I get you? Wine? Beer? The beer is even cold, thanks to Jaheira—”

“Cold beer? Sign me the fuck up!”

He smiles — ugh, swoon! — and off he goes to the bar to find some beer. And here I am, sitting at this table, happier than the happiest clam that ever lived in the sandy banks of the Chionthar. Ha, that was a funny line! I mean, I think it was funny. I bet Wyll will, too. I’ll have to tell him about it — maybe he can add it to one of his stories!

Gods, this inn is nice: all candle-lit and quiet since it’s nighttime, real cozy-like. Perfect for telling a certain smith that he’s one of the kindest, warmest, most wonderful people you’ve ever met and that you fancy his pants off — literally, if he wants it that way. Ohh, I’m getting nervous again. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine.

Dammon comes back and sets down two steins. “Are you all right?”

“I’m better than all right. I’m fantastic.” I lift my stein. “Cheers to you, Dammon. For everything. I really mean that.”

Another killer smile. “Cheers back to you, Karlach.” He taps his stein to mine, then brings it to his mouth, and I do the same — ohhh, beer. Cold beer, my gods, I’d forgotten exactly how good this was! I take another swallow and another — okay, honestly, I am so thirsty. And now I’m out of beer, and Dammon is smiling at me, and no, no, I can’t throw myself at him across the table, I can’t.

He chuckles and puts down his stein. “Can I get you another?”

“Naw, I’m good,” I laugh. “This was great, thanks.”

He nods and rests his elbows on the table (hellooo, rolled-up sleeves and forearms). “So what did you want to talk about? Do you have questions about your engine?”

“No, it’s not that.” No fucking way am I thinking about that right now. “I wanted to ask if, um…” Don’t be nervous, girl. You’ve got this. “You said before that I was — that I’m… touchable. Very touchable.”

Oh no, his smile’s fading. “Yeah, I did. I’m…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe I crossed a line…? This is a big — a huge deal for you, I know it must be overwhelming, the last thing you need—”

Wait wait wait! “Hang on, slow down. You think you crossed a line?”

“I… didn’t I? That’s not what you wanted to say?”

“Hells, no!” Woah, voice down, there are people sleeping in the room next door. “Are you kidding?” I say (quietly). “If that’s what you call crossing the line, I want you to cross all the lines.”

He looks gobsmacked now, which is really fucking cute. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I really, really do. If you want to, I mean. I don’t — I mean, I know I’m a lot of heat to handle, but I…” Fuck, my engine feels like it’s roaring. Please, gods, let him want this too. “I want to be with you, Dammon. I… It’s been so long since I was with anyone, and — and now that I can be with someone, I… I want it to be you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me like a fish, actually. Oh fuck, am I totally off base here? Noooo. “No pressure, though! No — I mean, if you’re not into… If I’m jumping the hatchet here, that’s totally fine, it’s not a problem—”

“No!” he blurts. “It’s not that. Believe me, Karlach, it’s not that I don’t want to. I mean — what I mean is that I…” He’s smiling again, thank all the fucking gods. “I would love to be with you, actually. I just… I can’t believe it’s me you want.”

I would love to be with you. I would love to be with you. He said that, right? Those were the words he said? Dammon the amazing smith with the amazing sinew-y hands said that to me, right? Oh shit, he’s still talking.

He gestures at me. “I mean, look at you. You’re Karlach. The Karlach, the destroyer of demons and devilspawn. You’re a hero.”

Oh my gods. Is that really what he thinks? “Wha—? Oh come on! It’s not like that.”

“It is like that,” he insists. “Haven’t you spoken to the kids? Mattis and Ide and them? I mean, I know you have, but you know they worship you, right? You’re like a goddess to them.” He looks around like he’s checking for spies, then lowers his voice. “Honestly? I think you’re better for them than a goddess, because you’re real to them. You mean something to them, Karlach. You’ve given them someone to look up to. That’s no small thing for a group of tiefling kids with no parents to look up to anymore.”

Fuck, I’m gonna cry. He doesn’t even know about Mum and Dad, and he hit the nail right on the fucking head.

He touches my hand — oh fuck, he’s not just touching my hand, but holding my hand. Turning my hand over on the table, his fingers sliding over my palm, his fingers curling into mine like he did right after he fixed me… Gods, my entire throat is full of fucking tears.

“I would love to be with you, Karlach,” he says in the softest voice. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

Oh, hells. He’s going to make me weep. Swallow it down, soldier, gulp those tears down! “Let’s get outta here. Will you come back to my camp?”

“Actually…” Ooh, what’s this cheeky look on his face? Cute! “Would you be interested in a bed?”

What? No way! “A bed? You’ve got a claim on one of the beds here?”

“Sort of. Me and the other grown-ups have a rotation with one of the rooms upstairs. Taking turns having a little peace and privacy for a night.”

“You and the grown-ups?”

“Yeah — well, we offered to the kids, too, but they want to stay together on the main floor, where the Harpers are. Can’t really blame them, either. But anyway, um, what I was trying to say is, um.” He clears his throat. “If you’d rather use a bed than a bedroll, there’s—”

I’m already on my feet. “Bed. You and me. Now.”

He smiles — gods, that brilliant smile. And he’s on his feet too now, we’re heading for the stairs — oh my gods, he’s holding my hand again. Dammon is holding my hand, his fingers are between my fingers, how fucking nice is this? How long have I been thinking about this — no, dreaming about this? Easy, Karlach, keep those tears in your eyes.

He gives me a little smile as we walk up the stairs. “Fair warning that it was Rolan’s turn in the bed last night, so it might smell a little magical.”

What! Is that a thing? Gale and Brynn never said that was a thing! “Really? What does magic smell like?”

“Oh, no, I — I’m just joking.” Dammon smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “It was a bad joke. Sorry. Pretend you didn’t—”

I kiss him. How could I not kiss him? He’s so — oh, gods, he’s kissing me. His lips, my lips, his hands in mine, we’re — we’re kissing, we’re kissing! Dammon the smith is kissing me, and he’s… Would it be naff as all the hells if I said he was dreamy? Fuck it, who cares if it’s naff? He is gods-damned dreamy. As much as his hands are callused, his lips are so fucking soft, and I’m… I am melting. I swear, I’m melting, he’s making my lips melt apart like a hot knife in butter, he’s touching his tongue to mine… Gods, his hands though? How he uses them? This is fucking magic. His thumbs are sliding over my wrists, his palms skimming up my arms, over my shoulders, oh gods, oh gods oh gods…!

His hands cradle my neck, and his tongue slides into my mouth, and I’m — I’m… I can’t think. I can’t think, I can’t — I can just feel. I feel him: his lips his tongue his hands — how close he is, the nearness of his body to mine, I feel… fuck, I feel everything, every touch of his fingers and every stroke of his tongue, and I — he — shit, was that me? That little kitten-y sound: was that actually me? I’ve never made a sound like that in my life.

He breaks the kiss, presses his horns to mine. “Are you all right?”

I’m a puddle. I can’t talk. I just nod.

He smiles (arghhh, as if I’m not melted enough already!). “You’re burning blue,” he whispers.

Huh? “Huh?”

“You’re burning blue.” He rests his palm on my chest — oh shit, I really am burning blue. I… I’m burning blue but — but I’m not burning him!

“You’re…” My hand’s fucking shaking as I press it over his. “You don’t feel that? Not even a little singe?”

“Not even a little singe.” His eyebrows do that little mischief-quirky thing. “I told you, I’m good.”

I laugh. I can’t help it: I’m as giddy as a kid on her birthday. “Oh ho-ho, boy, you don’t know what you’re doing by saying things like that in a voice like that.” I step closer to him.

His gorgeous smile gets even bigger. “Or maybe I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, still in that voice — oh, gods yes, his hands are on my neck again, so callused and so fucking gentle—

“Ahem.”

Fuck, Jaheira’s right behind us! “J-Jaheira! I mean, uh, ma’am!” Shit, should I bow to her? What should I do? She’s looking at me!

She smiles — the Jaheira is smiling at me! — then tilts her head. “Karlach, is it?”

She remembers my name! Snap to attention, soldier! “Yes ma’am, that’s me.”

She nods to Dammon too. “Dammon. Good evening. Let it be known that no one begrudges you your fun, but perhaps you should have it elsewhere that isn’t right at the top of the stairs. The only stairs that leads to the upper floor…?”

All right, now I’m going to melt from embarrassment. “Of course! Right! Uh, right! Uh—”

Dammon cuts me off, thank fuck. “Sorry, Jaheira,” he says. “We’ll get out of your way. Out of the way, I mean.” He takes my hand again, and I’m following him down the hall to one of the rooms: a simple little room with a nice cushy-looking double bed.

He leads me inside and closes the door. We look at each other. And we just crack up, we just totally — we’re both laughing like loons, just laughing so hard I can hardly fucking breathe. Augh, my ribs are starting to hurt, I’m laughing so hard!

“Here, sit down,” Dammon chuckles. He leads me over to the bed, and I let him guide me there.

Then I push him down and straddle him.

His gorgeous eyes get big. “Oh! Are you—”

I kiss him again — gods, he’s so delicious. Soft lips, hot tongue, strong hands: oh, I could just die for the touch of his hands. They’re circling my waist, they’re gripping my hips, they’re curling around my thighs… Fuuuck, gods, I’m sparking. Feels like everything’s sparking, like everywhere he touches is shooting with sparks, and I can’t… I can’t wait. I can’t wait anymore. I need more, I need his fucking hands, I need his hands on my skin.

I rip off my top and chuck it on the floor, and his baby-blues drop to my tits. “W-wow. I—”

I grab his collar and I shove my tongue into his mouth — fuck, his tongue tangling with mine: mm, just imagine feeling that sweet tongue in other places… Hellfire take me, I need this man more than I need air.

I climb off of him and start unbuttoning the ol’ trousers, and he grabs my hands. “Hey, hey. Easy, Karlach. Slow down. You don’t need to rush.”

Easy? Slow down? He’s kidding, right? It’s like I’ve never known the meaning of the word. “I…” Fuck, I’m breathing hard, I’m breathing so hard, and every breath feels like it’s making me hotter. Easy, Karlach, slow it down for him.

I gulp down a breath. “I hear you, soldier. But I have to tell you, I… Sometimes it feels like I’ve only got two modes: off, and on-on-on. I don’t…” Damn it, Karlach, breathe. “You might need to show me how to do this slowing-down thing.”

He smiles, and I swear, something inside of me absolutely melts. He’s got this way about him when he smiles, like his smile makes his face softer even when he’s showing his teeth, and it just… It’s such a special smile, you know? Like the way it feels when your mum watches you eating your favourite meal that she made? That’s how Dammon’s smile feels, and I swear on my life, if I still had a heart, it would be swelling up to five times its normal size.

He shifts off of the bed. “I’m happy to show you,” he says, and gods save me, he’s using that voice again. “Maybe I can start with…?” He gestures at my trousers and gives me a can-I? kind of look.

“Yes,” I say loudly. “Fuck yes.”

A big brilliant smile, and then he’s — ah, fuck yes, he’s undoing the buttons on my pants. He’s popping the buttons one by one, not even touching me as he does it, but I swear to all the gods, watching him do this is making me hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. And that includes when Zariel first put this fucking engine in my chest. No, don’t think about Zariel, forget about her.

Dammon pops the last button, then looks at me. “Can I take them off?”

“Please. Rip them off for all I care!”

He grins — gods, he’s a stupidly beautiful man. He’s pulling down my shabby trousers now, finally, pulling the damn things down over my hips and my ass and — oh. Oh my gods, oh my gods he’s kneeling in front of me this is not a drill!.

He sighs. “Karlach, you’re… really beautiful, you know that?”

He’s kneeling in front of me. Dammon is kneeling in front of me. He’s looking at me, his hand is curled around my ankle, and — oh, fuck me, his tail-barb is tracing my calf, his tail is coiling around my calf. His tail, his hand, his — even just his beautiful blue eyes on my skin: he’s seeing me, all of me, my bare fucking skin that nobody’s seen for ten fucking years.

“Are you all right?” His tail-barb strokes my knee, his hand squeezes my calf — fuck, I can’t cope with this.

I grab his shirt and pull. “Please, I — please, Dammon!”

He stands up. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

I kiss him again. I know, I know, I keep fucking doing it, I keep sticking my tongue down his throat, but he’s so… I… Fuck, his hands are on my hips, on my back, he’s — shit, he’s stroking my shoulder blades. His fingers are tracing over my vents like it’s the most normal thing in the world to touch a woman with fucking vents in her skin, and I’m… I feel so… It’s like I’m full, my chest, my tummy, it’s like I’m so, so full — but it just reminds me of how empty I’ve been for so long. And I need him to… I need more. I have to have more. I need him to remind me of how good it is to feel this fucking full.

I grip his collar. “I need you naked. Right now.”

He laughs: argh, that laugh, how soft it is, how sweet! “I thought you wanted me to show you ‘slow’.”

“You can show me slow with your kit off.” I know what I sound like, I sound desperate as all the hells, but I do not fucking care. A river of blue heat is running through my veins, and my skin is fucking vibrating for more: more of him, more of his skin touching mine — gods, I want to slide against him like we’ve both been fucking greased.

“All right,” he chuckles. “You talked me into it.” He takes off his scarf, then starts taking off his vest, and I start working on his belt. I’m just helping, right? Just being a good old helper, that’s me. Ha, his belt is off, his vest is off, just a pesky shirt and trousers now — oh-ho, he’s a fast one with the shirt, we love a man who can strip like a fast-changer at the circus! It’s just the trousers left now. I grab for his laces —

Oh yes, he’s kissing me. His hands on my neck, his tongue so fucking sweet and slow in my mouth — gods alive, kissing is fantastic, so fucking fantastic it’s unreal. He’s pulling me close, his hands on my hips and his chest — fuuuck me Dammon, his sternal ridges are rubbing my nipples.

I can’t fucking cope. I can’t fucking cope, I can’t think, it feels so fucking good, I’m making that noise again like a hungry kitten begging for milk…

He peels his lips from mine. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“Do what?” I whimper. Yes, I whimpered like a kitten, all right? Whatever, shut up about it.

“You’re going slow,” he says in that voice. “You’re doing it right now.”

I’ve not a clue what he’s talking about. I’ve never felt less slow in my whole fucking life. “What do you mean?”

“My trousers,” he says. “You stopped trying to take them off.”

I burst out laughing. (It’s mostly hysteria, I’m fucking telling you.) “It’s not ‘cause I want to stop! I just can’t, uh…” Oh gods oh gods: his tail. His tail-barb is caressing my butt and giving me shivers — gods, what a life! When was the last time I got a shiver about anything? — oh my fucking gods, his tail is twining around my thigh.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m alive with desire, I’m so fucking alive, and all he’s doing is curling his tail around my upper thigh. But his tail is so close — he’s so close, the smooth heat of his tail curling so fucking close to where I’m burning so hot…

That kitten noise squeaks out of me again. “Dammon, please…” I stroke his chest — my palms on his chest, my fingers on the ridges of his ribs, I’m touching him. I’m pressed against him from thigh to chest, I’m pulling him closer with my tail, I’m petting the ridges of his back and his shoulder blades — ooh, he’s got wingtips!

“You have wingtips!” I gasp. “Aw, how lucky are you? My mum always said these were good luck!”

He laughs that precious little laugh. “My grandmother said the same. Said it means I’ll be able to fly in my next life.”

“Aww, I love that. Makes me extra-wish I had a pair myself.” I trace the sharp little hooks with my fingers, then keep running my hands over the ridges of his back. Damn, skin is amazing. It’s really an amazing, amazing thing, and nobody even bothers to think about how amazing it is. Skin and muscles, too, like these nice wiry ropes of muscles in his upper back and his arms… Phwoar, his arms are bloody fit. I mean, of course they are, he’s a fucking smith, but still: I didn’t realize just how damn fit he was under his clothes. And these veins in his forearms? The way they pop, and the burn scars on his forearms and his hands? He might even have more scars on his arms and hands than I do, which is saying a hell of a lot.

Hellfire fucking take me, he is gods-damned beautiful. The scars, the ridges of his spine and his sternum, the wiry muscle of his smithy’s bod — not just his body, either, but his jaw, his nose, that heart-melting jewel-eyed smile…

Oops. Embarrassing. I went totally silent while I was touching him. “Sorry. Went into my own little world for a minute there.”

Another soft laugh. “Don’t even think about being sorry,” he says, and he lifts his hand… Ohhh, he’s touching my cheek. He’s holding my cheek in his palm, just cradling my cheek like it’s a baby bird… How long has it been since I’ve had a hand on my cheek? A nice hand, mind you, not a blood-covered clawed hand trying to gouge my eyes out. Too fucking long, that’s how: too fucking long with no caring hands to touch me or hold me or hug me when things got fucking rough. But that’s all over now, thanks to Dammon. I can touch and be touched, I can kiss and be kissed, I can climb this rip-roaringly gorgeous man in front of me, and I swear to every god that’s listening that that’s what I’m going to do all night long.

I kiss him and pull him close with my hands and tail. I stroke his spine with my tail-barb, I lick his tongue like it’s the sweetest thing in all the realms, I rub myself against him like I’m some pent-up kid who doesn’t know what they’re doing yet, and it all feels fucking fantastic. And he’s touching me too, his claws scratching my neck so super-gently while we kiss, his hands on my back, my hips — wowee, his hands on my ass! I want that, yes more—!

He palms my backside and pulls me tight to his body — fuck, he’s hard. He’s hard he’s hard he’s hard, I can feel him rubbing against my ladybits through his trousers — augh he’s still wearing trousers, fuck my life upside down!

I break from his kiss. “Take your trousers off,” I beg. “Just take them off already, all right? I need them off, I can’t — I really really want them off!”

“I’ll take them off. It’s all right,” he says in this dreamy calm-soothing voice, and his tail starts uncurling from around my thigh—

Fuck fuck fuck oh my gods yes his tail is sliding between my legs. It’s — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail, it’s sliding between my legs and stroking me as it unwinds from my thigh and oh my gods it feels so good, how am I supposed to survive—? “Mm ah fuck!”

His tail is gone. His arms are around me. “Was that okay?”

I am fucking gasping. “You tease,” I choke out.

He laughs, his lips close to mine. “Not a tease. I’m going to carry through, I promise.” Mmm, he’s kissing me again, he’s so fucking yummy, and he’s untying his trousers and I’m vibrating and I can hardly keep fucking still—

He pushes his trousers down and his cock is out. His cock, it’s hard, he’s hard — oh my god his cock. It’s gorgeous. I mean, it’s a cock, cocks are always a little funny-looking, I don’t know how folks who’ve got ‘em can cope with them, but Dammon’s is out and it’s gorgeous — fuck me yes he’s stroking it I want to do that.

I push his hand away, replace it with mine, and he gasps. “Ah—”

I kiss him. I’m stroking him, I’m walking him back toward the bed, he falls onto the bed and I’m climbing onto him and gasping into his mouth and stroking this thick pretty cock of his—

His hands are in my hair. “Karlach, slow down,” he gasps. “Slow down for a minute, all right?”

Fuuuck, fuck fuck, I can’t. No, I have to, I have to slow down for him. “Help me,” I beg. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s all right,” he pants, and he presses his horns to mine. “Just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

I nod. Breathe, I can do that, that’s totally something I can do. Just breathe. I close my eyes, I feel the sweet ridges of his horns against mine, I feel his breath tickling my lips because he’s breathing too, I feel — woah yes, that’s his tail. His tail-barb is tracing my lower spine, tracing lower still — eep he poked my bum!

I burst out a laugh. “You rotter!”

He laughs, too: fuck me, I adore his laugh. He’s laughing against my lips, his tail-barb is gliding down over my bum… oh fuck, it’s moving down to my thigh, around my thigh, drifting between my legs, is he going to—? Oh gods Dammon please yes!

“Yes!” I gasp — fuck, his tail, he’s petting my cunt with his tail oh my gods I’m going to explode.

“Easy, Karlach,” he whispers. His hands cradle my neck, perfect callused hands, fuck his tail is petting me, caressing me, touching parts of me that I’ve been dreaming of being touched for years — ah yes that’s the fucking spot right there, right there fuck right there yes!

“Dammon,” I mewl — yes, I fucking mewled like a cat, I’m mewling and my back is arching like I’m a bitch in heat, but really? That’s exactly what I am. I’m in fucking heat for this man. I’m burning for him, burning for more of this, burning alive with his tail petting that red-hot little button of love. Dammon’s breathing hard, too, his fingers gripping my hair and his hips moving under me while his tail-barb does its work between my legs. It’s like he’s getting desperate too, so desperate that he can’t keep still while his tail is petting me, and I love that he’s getting desperate. I want him to unravel just like I’m doing now. I want to hear him moaning, I want to see him bucking his hips for more, I want — I want him so badly, I want this so much, it’s happening right now and I still want it like it’s out of my reach. How does that make any sense? Why am I longing for something while it’s happening right now, right here, with this insanely beautiful man I’ve been fantasizing about since I first clapped eyes on him?

Oh fuck, why am I getting emotional?

He strokes my hair. “Hey, are you okay?”

Oh gods, there’s a moan to his voice already. He’s breathing hard like he’s the one being touched, like he’s the one who’s getting tail-fucked more perfectly than even my best fantasies — ah, fuck me, his touch, the way his tail is rubbing my clit just right, it’s so — he’s so, so fucking perfect, he feels so right, this feels so right: Dammon’s hands in my hair, his body under mine, his tail petting my cunt and his lips breathing into mine… My gods, I’m so… he’s so, this is, I’m… fuck, I’m so close, I’m getting closer, I’m going to fucking blow I’m going to—

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesfuckmeican’tbreatheohmygods kiss me Dammon fucking kiss me—

His tongue in my mouth. Moaning, is that me or him? No idea, who cares, I’m a fucking inferno. Everything sparking, like lightning under my skin and scorching my throat in the best fucking way, all because of him.

His lips leave mine. His voice, husky and soft. “You all right?”

I whimper. Still vibrating. No words, can’t talk. Need him to fuck me.

He strokes my broken horn, strokes my cheek. “You’re burning blue, Karlach.”

I sure fucking am. Burning blue, burning alive in ways that I didn’t think I ever would again, and it’s all because of him. It’s all him, it’s Dammon — his sunshine smile, his jewel-pretty eyes the colour of a summer sky: I’m burning blue, all because of him.

I nuzzle his ear. “I’m going to ride you until you see stars, soldier.”

He laugh-moans. “Yes please. I’m all for that.”

He’d better be, because I can’t hold back now. I can’t do slow now. I am on, on-on-on like I’ve never been before, and I’m sitting upright on his lap and I’m stroking his cock while he grips my thighs — gods I want to taste him, I want his come in my mouth, no no I’ll save that for later, I need him inside of me right fucking now—

Fuck yes he’s inside me fuck yes. Dammon is inside of me, and he feels like fucking heaven.

He groans, and it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. “Gods, Karlach!”

I take it back: hearing my name like that is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I stroke his chest — beautiful chest, beautiful ridges of his ribs — then I brace myself on his abs and start fucking him hard.

He groans, arches his neck in a way that makes me want to bite him (ha, don’t tell Astarion!): oh, my sweet fucking gods, he feels amazing. His cock is driving into me so hard, so sweet and hard that I’m making noise with every stroke, and he’s making noise too and gripping my thighs — ah, his tail, it’s coiling around my forearm in a way that makes my tummy flutter, and his eyelids are fluttering too like he’s really letting loose, which I love to see. I love seeing him like this, I love seeing him looking as good as he makes me feel, and fuck does he ever make me feel good. His thick fucking cock, the hot driving punch of it reaching so deep… Holy fucking hells, I missed this, I missed it so fucking much, and it’s so much better than I remembered. Dammon’s solid body under mine, his strong smithy’s hands on my hips and thighs, his tail squeezing my arm like the way he holds my hand, and those eyes: his beautiful eyes, the way he’s watching me under his half-lidded eyes while I ride him like my life hinges on his cock… Fuck me, did it ever really feel like this? Was it ever really this good?

Wait, wait a second: was sex ever this fucking good before?

I’m staring at Dammon now. Just staring at this kind and gorgeous man who’s filling me up within an inch of my life, and I… I don’t know that it’s ever been like this. I don’t know that it ever has been this good before. Sex is always great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s never… My gods, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt so… so close. So right. Fuck, it’s never felt as right as it does right now with him — how fucking weird is that? We’re in an abandoned inn in a place that’s been cursed to the shadows for a hundred years, and it’s somehow the most right that I’ve ever felt while being naked with another soul.

Wait, though: it gets even weirder. I’m with Dammon, an infernal smith who I might never have even spoken to if it wasn’t for the engine in my chest — the engine that’s slowly burning me alive. If I didn’t have this damned thing in my chest, I wouldn’t be here with him. We wouldn’t be here together doing this.

I’m having the time of my fucking life right now with the most wonderful man I’ve ever met because of something that’s going to kill me.

No, no no no, stop it brain, don’t think about it—

“Hey.” He’s sitting up on one elbow — no, he’s pushing himself upright and reaching for my cheek. “Hey, hey now, are you okay—”

I kiss him. I shove my tongue into his mouth and grip his neck, and I fuck him like there’s no tomorrow. I fuck him like this is it, like this is the only chance we’ll have and I have to show him how much this means, how good this is and how good it is because of him, because it’s him, Dammon: it’s Dammon’s body under mine, and his hand and his tail holding me, it’s all him, and I need him to know that there’s nothing I wanted more in this world than to be with him.

He breaks from my lips with the most incredible groan. “Ah, Karlach—”

I nuzzle his ear. “I want you so bad, Dammon. I want you more than anything.”

He groans again — gods, if only you could bottle a noise and keep it for later. “I’m all yours. I promise.”

My gods, what a promise. What a thing to say, what a thing to hear from someone who’s so fucking good. And now I don’t know what to say, my tongue’s a knot, my throat’s getting thick — gods, just fuck him already, just wring the pleasure out of him like he did for you.

I fuck him. I’m riding him hard. I’m bouncing on his beautiful cock and staring at his beautiful face while it crinkles up with pleasure — come for me, Dammon, I want you to. I really want him to, I want his come more than anything in the world, I want him to let it all go inside of me — oh yes, good boy, he’s getting even harder, he’s getting harder inside of me oh my gods fuck I know he’s going to come—

“A-ah, please, y-yes—!” He kisses me, Dammon is kissing me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth and his hand firm at the back of my neck, he’s shuddering and pulsing deep inside — yes, I can feel him giving me his come, and I want it all. I’m fucking hungry for it, for every last drop of him, every little bit of proof that this was me and him together: Dammon and Karlach, Karlach and Dammon, two hells-touched tieflings finding our little place of light among the shadows.

He breaks our kiss and presses his horns to mine again. “Gods,” he pants. “Gods alive. You are… incredible.” He laughs, this husky I’m-out-of-breath-because-I’ve-been-fucking kind of laugh, and I swear I’d give my unbroken horn to be able to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short it is.

He leans away a little and strokes my hair. “How are you feeling?”

Gods, look at him: he’s perfect. He said I was burning blue, but I swear on my life, his eyes are incandescent. They’re the brightest, most electric blue I’ve ever seen in my life, and it’s like they’re scorching my soul, branding this amazing moment deep into me so that it’ll never be forgotten, no matter what comes next.

Fuck, I feel so full. I’m so… my chest, my throat, my entire fucking soul feels full. Oh no, my eyes feel full too, oh no — don’t do this, Karlach, don’t you dare.

“I—” Oh fuck, I’m sobbing. I’m sobbing? Why now, why?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here, it’s okay.” He’s tucking my head against his neck — oh my gods, I’m falling apart. He’s hugging me, his tail is stroking my back like he’s comforting a child, which is funny ‘cause I’m weeping like a baby. No, not weeping: I’m fucking bawling. That’s fantastic, Karlach, that’s just great, let’s just bawl all over the gorgeous smith while his cock is still in me.

Okay, that’s kind of funny, but… Fuck, I can’t stop crying. It’s all just coming out now, everything, all the stuff that’s been going on: the tadpole, my engine, the shadow curse and how fucking awful it is here, Lae’zel almost dying at the crèche and Mizora being a fucking bitch to Wyll and Astarion making his snarky little jokes like he’s not dead-scared of Cazador. I’m just fucking sobbing, I’m howling for me and them and everything, and more stuff keeps coming out: Gortash, Zariel, Avernus, Mum and Dad — everything, it’s just fucking everything, it’s all the things, so much shit I haven’t cried about for years, and it’s all coming out on poor Dammon because he’s hugging me.

Dammon is hugging me. He’s just hugging me while I cry all over him, hugging me tight like I haven’t been hugged in fucking years, and I don’t know if I can stop.

I do stop, eventually, when it feels like every tear in my body is on his neck instead of in my eyes. When I finally stop crying, he speaks. “Are you all right?”

Gods be damned, his soft voice, his hand petting my back… He’s going to make me cry again. “I’m okay,” I say. “Stuffy, but okay.” I lift my head — eurgh, yep, lots of tears and snot on his neck. Real attractive, Karlach, really sexy stuff.

“Sorry.” I wipe my face real quick and start wiping his neck. “Sorry. That’s gross. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “You needed that. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Oh hells, now he’s wiping my cheeks… Did someone make this man on purpose to turn me into the world’s meltiest puddle? He’s wiping my cheeks and looking at me in that so-soft way with his beautiful soft eyes… Oh boy, I’m a goner. If I wasn’t already all fluttery for him, I’m a total loss now.

He strokes my shoulder. “Do you have to head back to your camp?”

No way. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with him and make this night last forever. Don’t say that, though, you’ll sound like a limpet. “I can stay for a while,” I say, all casual-like. “If you want, I mean. I — unless you have to sleep? You probably have to get up early for the forge—”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I can get up whenever, that doesn’t matter. Either way, if you — if you don’t have to get back, maybe…” He clears his throat — aw, he’s looking shy! Why is he looking shy? “Maybe you’d like to stay the night? With me, I mean?”

He wants me to stay? He wants me to stay! “Yes! I mean—” Oh gods, I’m laughing now. “Yes. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiles — oh gods, that killer smile. He’s going to destroy me with that smile before the night is through, I swear. “Great! That’s — that’s really great. Okay.” He laughs a little and strokes my arm. “Maybe I can take my trousers off, if that’s okay with you?”

“Your—?” I twist around on his lap to look — ha, oh shit, his trousers are down around his calves, and he’s still wearing his boots!

I laugh and climb off of him. “You didn’t take them off? Bit eager, are we?”

“Me? You didn’t give me a chance! So much for slowing down.” He’s grinning now as he pulls off his boots, and he’s so damned pretty that all I can do is smile back at him. Gods, I really am a goner.

He drops his boots on the floor. He’s totally naked now, naked and warm and perfect, and I don’t want to waste another second not touching all of that perfect naked skin.

I straddle him and wrap my arms around his neck, and he smiles and strokes my hip. “Back for a second round already? I’m game, but I’ll need a little more time.”

I press my horns to his. “Dammon, I…” No, Karlach, don’t say it. Don’t tell him what you’re feeling, it’s way too soon. It is too soon, right? It’s too soon to know if this is just lust or if it’s something more, right? Something so much more, so much bigger that it feels like it’s filling my entire damn body… I can’t know yet for sure that this is what I think it is, can I? Fuck, I’m breathing all shaky. Stop it, K, don’t cry again, just don’t.

He strokes my neck — gods, his magical hands on my skin, I can’t get enough. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Take your time. Talk when you’re ready.”

I nod, and I kiss him. For the dozenth time tonight, I’m kissing Dammon, melting under his soft lips and tasting his tongue and feeling every inch of my skin coming to life under his hands, and I can’t be fucking bothered with talking. Who cares about words or talking or even thinking when there’s this, when there’s him? Not me, that’s for sure. All that matters is being here with Dammon, skin-to-skin with him like all my hottest dreams, and I don’t give a shit about anything else.

Tonight, I’m burning blue for him. And that’s all that fucking matters.

[syrahbat]

Knowledge of Another : Chapter One

Here's the first chapter of my Gale/Tav fanfic, Knowledge of Another! It's my very first fanfic ever, so it's been quite the exciting journey. It's getting close to the end now, so I thought I'd share an excerpt, in case you too are a Bard who is in love with Gale and wished for so many more delicious smutty romantic interludes during the main plot of BG3.

I hope so very much that you enjoy! You can read the rest of the fic here!!! 🔮💜✨

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It had to be perfect.

The Wizard of Waterdeep was setting up his tent under the fading sun, the commotion of everyone chattering, building fires and making friends filling the air around him. It hadn’t been long since a delicate pair of hands had soothed the arcane portal and pulled him back into Faerûn, nor long since the owner of that delicate pair of hands had connected their minds, flooding him with the knowledge of another so intimate and full that he could scarcely remember the last time a book or story had immersed him so. 

The knowledge of another, he thought, his brow furrowing as he continued dancing his hands in front of him, spectrals of Weave pouring from his fingers and brushing against the bits of his tent like the glistening threads of spider’s web. It disconcerted him, left him shaken. Not because he felt that it was an invasion of his privacy, but merely because it was a feeling so foreign to him that it upset the balance of his reality.

She had not given him the knowledge of another. He knew that now. He supposed he knew it then, but what is a young man to do; how can he miss what he has no concept of. He didn’t know to feel its absence, and after all these years, all this time desperately trying to fill a void he had no clue was there, seeking something he didn’t know she wasn’t giving him, he finally understood what exactly The Orb had found purchase on within his soul. 

The Orb merely took place of the void of knowledge he already had, unbeknownst to him. Though it hungered for magic just as he had done his entire life, Gale was beginning to craft a framework of thought that deeply unsettled him.

How full he felt, after experiencing the knowledge of another. 

“I think it’s a tent,” Tav said jokingly, sidling in next to him. “A very fine tent. The best tent here.” 

Gale turned to look at her, drinking her in without a thought, and smiled brightly. She returned the smile, a crease at her eyes, shining with mischief.

“In fact,” she continued, pushing her elbow against his arm playfully, “I might just be forced to write a ballad about how perfect this tent is.” 

Perfect. Curious, he thought. Curious word choice.

“Ah, well you see, a Wizard is only as good as his lodging.” Gale mused, finally releasing the power of the Weave and watching the effervescent shape of the tent become plain in even this beautiful sun’s glow. His shoulders dropped slightly. 

She was giving him a studying look when he turned to her, placing his hands behind his back and taking a step away. 

“If you ever desire to sleep under a better structure than whatever…” He gestured to her tent, slightly lopsided and clearly raised in a rush, “that is; I am ever at your service.” He bowed sardonically. 

She brought a hand to her heart dramatically, her mouth dropping open with shock. “Wizard, you wound me. I worked very hard on that structure, and not everyone can be as talented and brilliant as you. My talents simply lie elsewhere.” 

He couldn’t help the grin that took over his face, knowing his eyes were dancing with a light he was unable to hide.

“Mmm, yes, I’ve heard the mockeries you level at poor unsuspecting Goblins. Who knew one could perish from embarrassment alone.” 

“I’m sure you are well aware that words can be as much a weapon as fire or blade.” She raised her head in a display of pride that made something burn within him. 

“Remind me to never get on whatever side you deign to be deserving of such viciousness.” He said pointedly, turning back to look at the tent he had tried to perfect. “I suppose this will do.” 

“My Gods, Gale,” her tone was warm with familiarity, “it’s just a tent.” 

She placed a hand on his shoulder beaming a grin, before heading back to the fire and the chattering of their other companions. He heard a cork pop on a wine bottle as he turned back to the tent, hands clasped behind him tightly. He took a breath, and bent under the flap as he stepped inside. 

It was, as she said, just a tent. He climbed in, fluffed and stacked his simple pillows on the bedroll, and began to remove his travelling robes. He knew it was silly, meaningless, stupid, to care so much about it. He supposed he chalked it up to being a recluse, missing the luxuries of his home in Waterdeep, missing Tara and her company. He felt the loneliness bitterly here, the discomfort of a bedroll on the cold ground and only books Tav had found on the journey so far to keep him entertained. How many times could a man read On Death and Resurrection before lapsing into an academic atrophy? 

He suspected it was eight.

Lowering himself onto the bedroll, he put his arms behind his head and gazed up at the low roof of his home for the night, and for the foreseeable future. Raising his hand, he whispered lowly and gestured wide, as a sparkling veil of a starry night inked itself across the ceiling. It was no Waterdeep harbour, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

And though it was a night sky, stars burning in an ever living universe, the beauty he regarded only served to remind him of her eyes, her delicate hands, and her vicious mockery.

[sprout-fics]

I dont know if this’ll make sense so I will try my best, but I hope in the end it’ll just help ease the anxiety you might have cause I’m normally a silent observer and like watching and reading and enjoying from afar

But you know Christmas cacti? It’s a plain little succulent that quietly makes a space in your home green and pleasant? But during the cold months it’ll make these bright beautiful flowers that are just so vibrant and pretty compared to the leaves and it’s hard not to look at cause gosh is it pretty. And they’ll stay for some time, a good couple of weeks, and then the blooms will fall off and it’s back to its sleepy self again till next season.

That’s how I come to this blog, and your writing. It’s so lovely, even when you haven’t posted anything. It’s a comfort to come back to and I enjoy each and every time cause it was great from the beginning. And when you post something new, it’s so exciting and I come running.

So if you find yourself just wanting to sit back, not posting so often, I’m very sure so many of us will come flocking to your writings or posts anyways cause even if it doesn’t last long or forever or it’s only a short time, we’ll enjoy what you have to give cause it’s a treat every single time. Like a Christmas cactus

Does that make sense? Anyways. I will always look forward for what you have to give, even if it’s weeks, months, or years in between each release of anything. Cause it’s worth it to me and it’ll feel just as good as the first, second, and third time, ya know?

Happy belated birthday, sorry I didn’t say it sooner, but take care of yourself. You deserve every good that you get so take it! 😊

I've read this message several times within the past day. I think it's one of the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful messages I've ever had the pleasure to receive. I wish I had words to express how much I cherish it. I am so honored to be the recipient of this.

I used to feel the same way about this blog. It was a shelter from the rainstorm, a gentle place to land. Now, it makes me anxious and nervous- like being thrust outside into a gale and not knowing where to go. I think it's time I take a long, very long break. I tried to take one a little bit ago, but I don't think it solved the root issue of why I'm not enjoying myself, whatever that may be. I wish I knew. I wish I knew so I could fix it.

I'll be gone for a while. I'll still be uploading to ao3, but I don't find myself having the energy to crosspost here anymore. I'm not going to stop writing, but I am going to start doing it in a way where I'm writing for myself again, and not for others. I need to find the thing that made me start writing in the first place, so that if and when I come back, it will be through joy, not through an obligation of doing things just to do them. I have to stop treating myself like a content machine.

I'll still reblog things to @sprout-fics-reblogs probably. I like being here and seeing others' art and fics. I just won't be posting myself. I think I'm going to turn off asks as well. Just trying to shrink down and allow this blog to go dormant.

I appreciate every single person who has reached out to me. I have so many kind people following me and I think I take that for granted sometimes. Thank you. If you want to reach out to me, feel free to DM me, and I'll send you my discord.

Talk soon. Thank you. I love you. Bye.

[mumms-the-word]

In Fathoms Below - Ch. 3

Ch. 3 - Expert in Gibberish

Characters: Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Gortash + other OCs; pairing is Gale x fem!Tav Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more. A/N: Kind of a slow chapter today, sorry friends. Also, today’s chapter touches on Gale’s history with Mystra, but I don’t want to pretend that my interpretation of the events here are at all Gale’s canon. BG3 doesn’t tell us when Gale was selected as a Chosen of Mystra or when he became lovers with Mystra. The year I picked is just something that worked for this fic. Remember, it’s all for fun!

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The view outside the windows of the submersible was an alluring gloom of wonder and mystery, eerily beautiful and unsettling. Moving through the depths felt a little like being suspended in a starless sky at twilight, when the night painted the world in shades of blue. Only this blue was much deeper and all-encompassing, stretching out in all directions, above and below. Every now and again, the shadowy crags of some undersea cliff would appear off to the side, just out of reach of the lights, blurry and indistinct, reminding Gale that he wasn’t suspended in an actual void; but otherwise, there wasn’t much to see. Just deep cerulean water, shadows of rocks, and the occasional school of silver fish darting out of the submersible’s path.

“We’re approaching two hundred fathoms below the surface, saer,” a gnome pilot said, watching the needles on a series of gauges.

“Very good,” Gortash said. “Level out and keep us moving east. I want to reach those trenches in less than a day.”

As Redhammer and the other pilots called out commands and responses, leveling out the submersible so that it no longer descended into the depths, Gortash turned his back on the view and clasped his hands together. “Now then, seeing as we’re well underway, I think it’s time we made plans. Gale, if you would join us?”

Gale, the other companions that he had met, and several more uniformed men and women he didn’t yet know gathered around the desk at the center of the room. By the time Gale had taken his place opposite Gortash, the desk and maps between them, they had a small audience of about thirty people, not counting the pilots still working around the perimeter of the helm.

“I trust you’ve had time to study that book, Gale?” Gortash asked, gesturing to the satchel that hung from Gale's shoulder and rested on his hip.

“Not as much as I’d like, but I haven’t ended my study yet,” he said, pulling the book from his satchel. He carefully opened the book, turning over the thick vellum pages until he landed on a break in the center. The right side was written in familiar draconic script, while the left page was written using more fluid, curling characters—Hamarfae, the script of the ancient elves. “The journal appears to have been written at two separate times, in two separate languages, though likely by the same author. The first half details the journey of a Netherese mage, an apprentice or colleague of the infamous Ioulaum of Netheril, as they arrived in Nautera before it sank beneath the waves. It breaks off abruptly about halfway through, however, and the second half picks up what appears to be decades later, with the mage attempting to locate Nautera beneath the sea. The first half can tell us much about the city before its descent, but the last half will lead us to where it is now. At least, theoretically.”

“So what’s the catch?” Wyll asked. “There has to be a catch.”

“Well, the last half is easy enough to read. It’s written in Loross, the language of the Netherese nobility and Netheril’s most esteemed scholars. Simple to translate, if you’ve studied it as I have. The issue lies with the first half of the book—it’s written in Seldruin.”

Minthara scoffed. “The dead language of faeries. How fitting."

Halsin flicked his gaze at Minthara, a frown briefly touching his lips, before focusing again on Gale. “The last sages who studied, read, or spoke Seldruin died out nearly two centuries ago. As far as I know, no one has made efforts to keep the knowledge of Seldruin alive since then. If you can make out even simple words, it would be more than impressive—it would be astounding.”

"Do you even need to?" Shadowheart asked. "The Netherese part has directions to where Nautera is now. The first half is just fluff in comparison."

Gale shook his head. "I disagree. The first half provides much-needed context for all the rest. And I can read some of it—the translation process is just a bit slow."

"You can already read Seldruin?" Haslin asked, looking astonished.

“Well, I’m hardly an expert in it, but I’ve managed to make some headway,” Gale said, unable to resist a bit of pride creeping into his voice. Cradling the book in one hand, he held up a finger as he began to explain, “And it’s actually quite simple. If you use the Loross as a kind of cipher, then look for loanwords between the two languages, identify the connections to archaic and modern Elven, keeping the different rules for conjugations and declensions and so forth in mind, you—”

He glanced up, in the middle of gesturing with his free hand, to find that most had confused or bored expressions. Karlach looked particularly lost and Minthara particularly uninterested. He cut himself off and cleared his throat. “You…ah, well, suffice it to say that I’ve been able to decipher several pages since obtaining the book. For example…”

He returned to the very first page of the journal and traced his finger along the first line of Seldruin, speaking the words aloud. A strange tingle, faint and almost imperceptible, buzzed at the back of his mind, and though the first words came out clunky and stilted, the rest of the sentence issued forth much more smoothly, as if he innately knew the language. 

He paused. That had never happened before. But then again, this was the first time he’d tried to speak the Seldruin out loud. 

He focused back on the text. “Roughly translated, it means, ‘I write this in the language of the Nauterrans, replicating their speech in the hopes that we might also learn to replicate their Art.’ I suspect our author began his account after he had arrived in the city. He must have been learning Seldruin from the Nauterrans.”

“Impressive,” Gortash said, yet his smile betrayed a different opinion. It was a smile like that of a patient adult viewing a child’s poorly drawn artwork rather than someone who had any real sense of the subject matter Gale was presenting. “But for now, what we require is not a lesson in linguistics, but a location to investigate. We don’t have enough resources to sweep the entire ocean floor for days without end.”

Gale tried to rein in some of his irritation. “Yes, well, that is where the second half of the journal comes in. Our nameless author appears to have tried to locate Nautera again, years after its disappearance. He discovered potential paths below the sea.”

“Ah, yes. Paths beginning here,” Lae’zel said, reaching over and pointing to an area of one of the charts, showing a series of trenches and crevices along the seabed.

He couldn’t help but be impressed. “Yes, precisely. How did you know?”

“The records of K’liir state that the last known entrance to Nautera lies in deep sea trenches east of Faerûn. These are the only trenches of any significance between Faerûn and Evermeet, according to your maps.” She looked a little smug as she straightened up. “Did you think we were merely wandering aimlessly through the sea?”

“How do your people know these trenches hold an entrance to Nautera?” Shadowheart asked, a bit of bratty petulance creeping into her tone. “Have they discovered the city already?”

“Of course not,” Lae’zel snapped. “But they discovered the remnants of ancient roads and bridges. The kind that would have connected Nautera to its sister cities on the other islands…or so it is believed. Somewhere in these trenches, there should be the ruins of two statues. No doubt built to ward off superstitious fools.”

“Or guide them to safe harbor,” Gale said. “According to the Nauterran Account, when Ioulaum and his fellow mages arrived, before the disappearance of the islands, they first saw twin statues that rose nearly one hundred meters above the water, flanking an entrance to a bay where ships could safely dock or anchor.” 

He turned the pages of the book to show a sketch of the statues. They looked like two elven figures, though built in a less elegant style than most elven iconography these days. Their features were simple, their clothing little more than geometric designs across their bodies. Each held one hand up level with their chest, palms facing outward, with the other hand held flat before them, palms upward. A welcoming gesture, one that promised open-handed generosity and peace. 

Gale laid the book on the table with the images of the statues visible for everyone to see. “When the author returned later, he found these statues broken and resting among the trenches. The entrance to the Underdark we’re looking for should be close by.”

He shot a surreptitious glance at Gortash, as if to say See? The Seldruin half is useful. But Gortash’s eyes were on the book on the table.

“So if we find these statues, we find the roads leading to Nautera,” he said.

“In theory, yes.”

“Is it just going to be lying at the bottom of the ocean?” Karlach asked, peering over Wyll’s shoulder. “The whole city?”

“No. It’s much more likely that it has been covered by rocks and other land formations and is somewhere in the Underdark now.”

“But if we’re approaching underwater, then wouldn’t the Underdark spaces be just as flooded with water as everywhere else?” Wyll asked. Across the desk from him, Minthara scoffed quietly, but it was Gale who continued to answer.

“Not quite,” he said. “According to this author, the curve and angle of the tunnels in the trenches are formed so that they should lead to an air pocket, and from there, into the Underdark. Think of it like this—the undersea tunnels function more or less the same way rudimentary plumbing functions.”

He reached for a piece of graphite and quickly sketched out a schematic of what he meant on a scrap piece of parchment, showing the curve of the tunnels and a simple bubble filled only partly with water.

Shadowheart turned her head to murmur to Karlach. “Wizard, linguist, plumber…hard to believe this guy is single.” Karlach snickered and Wyll, overhearing it as well, covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

Gale tried to ignore her. “The point is, it’s been thousands of years since the islands disappeared, and Toril has seen a great deal of change since then. Not the least of which was the Spellplague and the Second Sundering.”

There was a kind of contemplative hush at the mention of the Second Sundering. The memory of it felt fresh, though it had begun almost a decade ago and ended four years ago. All of Toril had felt the effects of Ao’s sundering, rumored to have separated the world of Toril from the overlapping world of Abeir. Entire cities and civilizations vanished or blinked into existence, some of them all at once and others appearing slowly over time, as if the land were stretching a little each day. A number of wars and catastrophic natural disasters happened, like the Great Rain that lasted for days upon days, or various floating earthmotes crashing to the ground, or even a few stars falling from the sky. For most, the Sundering was no more noteworthy than the local war or strange event that happened nearby, but there were very few people who were left wholly unaffected. 

Though Gale hadn’t experienced much of a physical difference in Waterdeep at the time, everyone at Blackstaff Academy was following the events closely, tracking changes around the world. It wasn’t just the physical landscape that was changing; the fabric of the Weave was reforming and repairing itself from the damage of the Spellplague. Gods thought long dead were returning, some of them physically walking on Toril and gathering new followers, new Chosen. It was during this time that Mystra, who had been slowly revealing herself to her followers by whispering into their thoughts and dreams, had finally returned in full force.

The same year that the Sundering had been completed, just over four years ago, was the same year that Mystra had unveiled herself to him and took him as her lover, after years of whispering the promise of it in his ears and making him one of her Chosen. He hadn’t even made it five years as her lover before mucking things up and falling from her grace.

He pushed those thoughts aside for now. His melancholy wouldn’t help them find Nautera.

“Regardless,” he said, breaking the silence. “The world has changed greatly since the disappearance of Nautera, so it should be no surprise that the city is now buried. If we can find those statues, we’ll find one of the oldest underwater entrances to get us to Nautera, taking us through the Underdark and, gods-willing, to the final resting place of the lost city.”

“Then it’s settled,” Gortash said. “Gale, Lae’zel, you two compare your notes and work with our navigators to narrow the search for the statues. The rest of you, be on standby. I want all eyes on the lookout when we approach those deep sea trenches.”

Gale ventured a glance at Lae’zel, expecting to find more hostility from the githyanki soldier, but she merely regarded him with a cool stare. As the others dispersed, some of them leaving the helm entirely, she crossed her arms.

“Well?” she asked. “Why do you stare at me so?”

“Oh, I—no reason. No reason at all.” He cleared his throat and pulled out the chair, gesturing for her to sit. “Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable? It may take some time to determine anything useful.”

She didn’t move a muscle. “I can stand.”

“Right…” Gale hesitated for a moment before giving in and taking the chair himself. “Then we’d best get started.”

While the pilots continued to work around the helm under the watchful gazes of Gortash and Minthara, Gale and Lae’zel worked with a couple of cartographers and navigators to work out a location to investigate. Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, and Halsin remained in the helm, sitting or standing near the windows to watch the undersea world drift along, sometimes engaging in conversation with one another and sometimes lapsing into thoughtful silence as the hours crawled by. Down here in the blue depths, Gale lost all sense of time, though he noted the waters getting darker and darker.

Although Lae’zel was reluctant to hand over the slates she had with her, she did show Gale how to identify separate words in tir’su and briefly explained how the written language operated. Between the journal’s account of the journey as it would have been 4500 years ago and the somewhat more recent githyanki’s explorations in the same area, they were able to narrow down a few possible areas on the maps as viable locations to search. They marked these on the map of the sea floor.

“It’s curious,” Gale said, as the navigator picked up the map they had marked and took it over to Gortash to consult with him. “Why would the githyanki be interested in an ancient elven city?”

“The githyanki are interested in many things,” Lae’zel said. “Not the least of which are powerful artifacts.”

“Ah. So you’re interested in the lost mythallar as well.”

Lae’zel frowned. “I said nothing about—”

She broke off at the sound of a commotion outside the helm. They and several others in the room turned to see three figures struggling just beyond the open metal doorway. Gale rose from his chair right as they burst into the room—two dark-clad drow soldiers and a pale, white-haired elf held firmly between them.

The elf struggled and bared his teeth, revealing two sharp fangs. “Unhand me you vile—” He stopped as he noticed his audience, his red eyes widening. “Ah…oh dear.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Gortash asked, handing back the map to his navigator. Minthara made a signal with her hand and one of the drow kicked the back of the pale elf’s knee, causing him to grunt and crumple. His knees hit the metal floor with a painful thud.

“A stowaway, Nightwarden,” the second drow said, ignoring Gortash to address Minthara. “We found him sneaking around the supply room.”

[8eb]

I have so many feelings about Gale and my bb Catheve that I literally just. Cannot keep it to myself. I LOVE the angst of act 2 with the visit from Elminster and I just needed to write a short little fic featuring the conversation after Elminster & That One romance dialog when you first enter the shadow cursed lands. act 2 spoilers and all that.

GalexF!Tav(Catheve) / SFW :)

“I had hoped to introduce you to him in less dire circumstances, but those are hard to come by these days,” Gale’s voice was it’s usual jovial, and Catheve felt her anger rising beyond her control.

“He didn’t seem much of a friend. Showing up and demanding you kill yourself.” Her anger was getting the better of her. She knew the logistics, but that didn’t cool her fire. She was moments away from cursing out Mystra directly to Gale’s face. That she managed not to do so was a miracle.

“It’s not a demand he wanted to make of me,” Gale started firmly. I know, Catheve wanted to bicker, but demanded he did. Gale continued. 

“As Mystra’s chosen, he had no choice but to deliver her message, however much it pained him to do so. For Mystra to have sent him… The severity of her bidding could not be clearer. Or weigh more heavily on me.”

Cat’s eyebrows were firm on her forehead. She felt the bitter sting of anger dull into a deep, dreadful sadness. That’s where these emotions were coming from: sadness. Here in front of her stood the man she cared about most in the world. The man who may not even reciprocate her feelings. The man who time and time again had shown intelligence, kindness, and openness. The man who had seen her as she was, not as a half-blood, not as a danger to society, but as her. And he would be taken from her before she even got the chance to tell him how she felt. Because his goddess demanded it. 

“Time seems so infinite when you’re young… a month is an age, a year is a lifetime… It is a strange feeling, to realize how little of it one might have left,” Gale trailed on. 

“Are you seriously considering doing what Elminster said?” A twinge of bitterness returned to her voice. She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to mask the tears that threatened her. 

“Of course - he offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes, and let go… Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone… and I along with it.”

The flame burning inside Catheve’s chest lit anew. One life sacrificed for the greater good would normally be a viable option. But not when it was Gale. 

“There is surely another way.” Cat’s voice was quieter. Her breaths were shallow with emotion. What about me? She wanted to demand. 

“If there was, I’m sure the goddess of magic and the greatest wizard who ever lived would have identified it, but alas… only one solution is offered. But that remains ahead of us for now. The Heart of the Absolute must be discovered before I can stop its beating.” 

You will stop the absolute’s heart from beating, and mine along with it. ...Better left unsaid.

“You’re not blowing yourself up, Gale. I won’t let you.” Her voice was stronger now. 

“Let’s save such certainty for the moment such a decision is upon us. You may feel differently, once we know what we’re truly up against.”

“I won't.” Catheve said, unusually coldly. “Forgive me if I do not take for certainty the words of a goddess who has treated you so. A goddess who, all this time, has had the power to stop that orb in your chest and instead chose to do nothing. To sit and watch you, her once chosen, her most faithful, suffer. Forgive me if I do not come around to the idea of a goddess like that stealing away from me someone I hold very dear.” Gale would surely say something in return, but Catheve didn’t give him the opportunity. She turned from him and walked firmly to the other side of camp, where she tucked away into her tent and wept. She wept of sadness and guilt. Guilt, for making the situation harder for Gale, and sadness that it might be the last words she ever spoke to him.

There was palatable tension between Gale and Catheve the next morning. Catheve wanted to apologize, but whenever she looked his way she was overcome with immense sadness. Maybe it was best to distance herself. The closer she got, the more it would hurt when he inevitably made his decision. 

But it already hurt. When she saw his face - his beautiful brown eyes - her mind jumped to a future where she would no longer be able to look upon it. There would be no more soiree stories around the campfire. No more mini magic lessons, where Catheve could ask any question she desired and not once be met with judgment. She would no longer be able to talk to the man who had weaseled his way into her heart and tugged at the knot of self hatred that plagued her as a wild magic sorcerer. She loved him. Most wholly. And that’s why it hurt so badly. 

She felt almost foolish. Gale hadn’t dissuaded her the times she had tried to express more than friendship, but he hadn’t entirely reciprocated either. Now she had denounced his beloved goddess to his face. Any chance she might’ve had was surely lost. She would still fight for his life until the very end, though.

No more than a few words were spoken between the pair all the way into the Shadow Cursed Lands. Gale made remarks that Cat heard, but still they did not talk the way they used to. It was unbearable. He was still here. Their time was limited, and Catheve couldn’t think of a thing to say. She wanted to take advantage of the time they had left. If they survived till night, she promised herself she would speak with him in camp.

Their silence was broken at the end of their first encounter with the shadow cursed. The party panted for breath at the horrid encounter. Catheve wedged her staff into the dead earth to support herself. No one was injured, but everyone needed a moment to rest, and process what they had just seen.

Gale found Cat hunched beside the side of a cliff. Astarion was rummaging through the corpses not far off, and Shadowheart was watching him with amusement.

“It’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side.” Catheve looked up at him. Meeting his gaze caused an ice shard to pierce her heart, but she didn’t look away.

“I once read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desires for… other forms of stimulation.” Catheve’s brows tightened as she watched him speak. There was a little bit of… embarrassment in the way he spoke. She could hardly believe it. Was he… flirting?

“Have you ever read anything on that subject?” He asked. Catheve stood up straight and blinked at him. For their first conversation since she had scrutinized Mystra and since they entered the shadow cursed lands, Cat had not been expecting it to be of this nature. 

“You’re drawn to me, even in a place like this?” Gale’s sweet eyes softened on her. There was a lot unsaid. A lot they still needed to discuss. But their situation demanded brevity, so he continued.

“I can’t imagine anywhere that could turn my heart from you, cursed or otherwise. You’d always be as beautiful, and as impressive.” The tenderness in his tone almost caused Catheve to fall over. Her first instinct was disbelief. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. But she knew Gale. He would not lie. Especially about something like this. Her mouth fell open, and she felt the blood rush to her face, but she couldn’t find anything to say.

“Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking,” he stumbled. She cursed herself. Her silence wasn’t helping. “But standing at your side through such darkness and disrepair, it only makes me want you more.” Catheve’s breath hitched, and her heart raced. Say something, she scolded herself. Gale seemed to pick up on her silent battle, and finished his thought.

“Unfortunately this is neither the time nor place to indulge such feelings. So, we must be patient and push all such thoughts aside. For now.”

For now.

It echoed through her heart and soul like a drum. It promised a ‘later.’ A future, even just a small one. She wanted to weep again. Not from sadness, or guilt, but from happiness.

“I’ve never been very good at patience,” she admitted quietly, as Astarion and Shadowheart rejoined them. He didn’t reply, but she did catch a coy smile sweep across his face as they headed towards Last Light Inn.

<3

[cappymightwrite]

My Maid of Stone (Ch. 2 Preview)

A strong gale began to brandish the half-denuded boughs of the nearby trees, whirling the leaves in madcap companies about the wooded grove. The whole world seemed to sound around her then. A roaring and a rustle and a creak was everywhere, dust and dead leaves eddying across the pathways between trees, catching in withered bracken and barren brambles. The taste of snow in the air. And yet, cold as it was, harsh as it was, still it felt like an embrace to her. A return to something lost, a kind of remembrance, of something still held so dear. She felt like a tree that at first glance appeared dead to the world, yet when you climbed to its very top, you found bright green limbs sucking sap one hundred feet from the ground. You discovered the tree was very much alive and that was its secret. That secret life that it hid. Only visible to those who cared to look, to brave its heights and climb.  But what good does my praying do? No one will listen. There is no one here to listen. Pain prickled on the skin now, aching deeper in the chest. Water welling in the sight-hollows. Why? Because of the colours. Because the snow-covered world, even under cover of night, under moonlight’s glow, was so bright and pure looking, she could hardly bear it. Because the old pain felt closer here and the taste of winter in her mouth was as solid as any food she had ever eaten. Because beneath it all she could smell the roots and the sleeping earth and the seeds waiting to grow. She had fought against hope. Fought against her longing. And yet, all the things she had fought against so strongly, surrounded in the great hall, began now to swiftly crest over her, in great, consuming waves. The patter of her pulse. The rasp on the wind. Every sound, every beat, a call of his name.

Just a little sample to prove that I am still working away on this! The plan is to have another 5k word count for chapter 2 with enough plot to balance out all my ramblings about trees and mountains. It's been taking a bit longer than I maybe first planned, but I do want it to hit just right, as this chapter will be when they finally meet face to face.

Anyway, thanks to all those still invested in this fic — stay tuned! x

[elliyoyo]

Elliyoyo's Masterlist (04/2024)

This has everything from my entire time on Tumblr (2017 to now). Being updated as I post more, and edited when one of my brain cells kick in. Hope you enjoy, love you guys <3

Baldur's Gate 3:

Adverse Effects (Gale Dekarios) - You give Gale a ring to help his condition, but don't check its magical properties first. He ends up hot and bothered, and that's on you, good leader.

Burn Notice:

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera (Sam Axe) - You get bored and strike up some spicy chit chat with your boyfriend Michael while on a stake out... Oh shit, is that Michael?

Playing Couple's Therapist (Sam Axe) - You and Fiona grab a couple drinks, and to no surprise, Sam shows up to get drunk beside friends. But friends turns to more when you make a confession he won't let you avoid.

Fallout:

The First High (Hancock) - You have a sesh with everyone's favorite mayor. Shooting the shit and taking some hits... Not the worst way the apocalypse could be going.

Hamilton:

I Make the Reporter Beat Box (Lin Manuel Miranda) - You're interviewing LMM and he decides to make you beatbox for him.

SlytherLin (Lin Manuel Miranda) - For Lin, the boggart turns into a battered and beaten version of you. He realizes some things, and acts on them.

When the Clock Strikes Twelve (Modern!Lafayette) - You get a kiss at midnight from the resident French man.

Saved (Modern!Alexander Hamilton) - You're fed up and decide its time to end it, but a peculiar stranger talks you down.

Home (Modern!George Washington) - Your identifying as trans has taken you down a dark, terrifying road with your family. Luckily, your childhood best friend George gives you the option to leave that behind and live with him.

Horror Films:

Hell Hath No Fury Like Two Mad Scientists Scorned (Herbert West) - Dan and Meg try to care for you after Dr. Hill nearly forces himself on you, but nobody would've thought Herbert would've been the one to actually help you.

Say That One More Time? (Herbert West + Dan Cain) - You make an announcement that blows both boys' minds... once Herbert takes a moment to process it.

Herbert West/Reader/Dan Cain Poly HCs - How the boys would be in a relationship, SFW and NSFW.

Marvel:

Christmas Eve (Bucky Barnes) - Bucky is away on a mission, and you give him one last call before Christmas.

Decorating the Tree (Bucky Barnes) - You and Bucky can't seem to keep your hands to yourself while decorating Tony's humongous XXXL Christmas tree.

Eleven O'Clock (Jessica Jones) - You're desperate to find your cat, so you visit an old friend and rekindle some flames between you two.

The Infamous Pancake Order (Loki Laufeyson) - Loki accidentally orders 37 boxes of pancake mix. That's it. That's the fic.

Kissing Under the Mistletoe (Loki Laufeyson) - Thanks to Mr. Wonderful Tony Stark, you and the newest Avenger friend end up having a small lesson in Midgardian traditions.

Dark Blue Suit (Tom Hiddleston) - You just can't help yourself when Tom dresses himself up all dapper for interviews or red carpets.

Baking Cookies (Natasha Romanoff) - You will simply perish if you stop sneaking cookie dough from the bowl Nat is scooping from... but you might actually die if she keeps catching you.

Cookie Craving (Peter Parker) - Late night munchie shenanigans. You two just want some cookies, but you're not the brightest bulbs.

Nightmare (Peter Parker) - You have a nightmare about Peter dying while you helplessly sit there. Even at 3am, he answers your hurried call and comes over.

Pucker Up, Parker (Peter Parker) - Your boyfriend lets you do his makeup, and you get overwhelmed by how well he pulls it off.

Stealing Sweaters (Peter Parker) - After a long night of fun, you have some breakfast with Peter in his sweater.

Visiting Family (Peter Parker) - You're Tony Stark's daughter, he's Tony Stark's kid genius. All anyone can see when they look at you is your father... until Peter Parker and his Aunt.

Wrapping Presents (Pietro Maximoff) - The speedster helps you get your Christmas wrapping done in the blink of an eye, and he expects a thank you.

Movie Night (Wade Wilson) - You sit down to have a nice movie night with your boyfriend, but he's a dick and decides to pick a horror movie instead of one you can bang to.

Accidental Text (Steve Rogers) - You drunk sext Cap, and when you try to go about your day the next morning, of course he's right there.

Getting Lost in the Mall (Steve Rogers) - You lose your boyfriend in a crowd of fangirls, but you use that time separated to your advantage.

Happy Century, Captain! (Steve Rogers) - Cap is 100! Such a special number calls for a very special gift.

Steve's Jacket (Steve Rogers) - You accidentally throw Cap's signature jacket in the wash while he's away on a mission and it hits you hard.

Cuddling by the Fire (Thor Odinson) - You want to warm up on a cold Winter night, so what better way than to cuddle up to a fire with a book and your godly boyfriend?

Playing in the Snow (Thor Odinson) - You start a snowball fight with a God to show him your planet's culture. Not the best idea.

Holiday Party (Tony Stark) - Tony accidentally spills a drink on you during one of his parties, but don't worry, he makes it up to you.

Ugly Sweaters (Tony Stark) - You and Tony try to one-up each other for ugliest sweater and he plays dirty to see what your contender is.

Mötley Crüe:

Just Another Threesome (Vince Neil) - You and your rockstar boyfriend give a random fan the time of her life to get rid of pre-show jitters.

Walk-Ins Accepted (Tommy Lee) - You get off a shift early and stumble upon your drummer roomie in quite the state.

Queen:

Good Girl (Roger Taylor) - Sequel to Naughty School Girl. More submissive Roger, since he enjoyed the last time so much.

Naughty School Girl (Roger Taylor) - You just can't help yourself when you see Roger dressed up for the I Want to Break Free video.

Supernatural:

Traditions (Castiel) - You and the boys enlighten Cas on human New Years Eve traditions.

Nose Kisses (Dean Winchester) - You and Dean put your toddler to bed with plenty of kisses.

First Date (Sam Winchester) - Sam intervenes when some drunk guy decides to pick on you at the bar and thank god for it because you secured yourself a date with the moose.

[astarionsilverbough]

hope its not weird but i really like ur fic and how u characterize ~the boys~ and i wanted to write a little uh. hypothetical for the future bc im suuuuper hype for raphael-astarion friendship (and gale-vertisment)

--

Raphael has good wine. Good, good wine. Well. Pretty good, and it's the first one that doesn't taste like ashy piss-vinegar in... in longer than Astarion wants to think about. So! Good wine. Maybe magic.

They have maybe, possibly... had... a lot. Of this good magic wine.

"The problem is--" Astarion says, trying to follow the thread they'd dropped after chasing the end of their fourth, or maybe fifth, glass-- "the problem. Um, the--"

"The problem." Raphael agrees, staring seriously into his glass as if it might hold some answers, or at least a full sentence. "Is that there are no good men in the world."

"Two!" Astarion crows. "Halsin is very good. And also, also, Gale, he is-- I like him."

"Yes, your... bear... seems fine."

"And Gale!" Astarion must defend him, and also advertise him. Gale was thinking a lot of... of kiss thoughts about Raphael. "He is very smart, and good at magic, and!--" Astarion cuts himself off, pointing at Raphael very seriously. "And he saw me naked and he wasn't weird. Or anything. So."

"...So," Raphael repeats, sarcastic, but Astarion would put money on his next sip being thoughtful, eye-rolling aside.

SQUEALING TWIRLING MY HAIR KICKIN MY FEET

KISS THOUGHTS!!!!!!!

anon baby i’m obsessed. utterly and completely obsessed i’m putting it in my journal ilu 3000 oh my god