#we need to take over a wizard tower you see

[shithowdy]

when your OC is both an artist and also a simp for an NPC you may someday find yourself having to do high-effort pieces solely for The Bit

(slightly fixed)

[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.

[actual-lea]

So who wants to hear about the stupid stupid way I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3?

I made it to Act 3 on my first (original character) playthrough like a week before Patch 5 came out, and after finding it absolutely unplayable (on the PS5) decided it was time to go ahead and start an origin character run for the funsies while waiting on the new patch to fix the Lag Hell. Naturally, I picked Gale. Since this was mostly just for fun/to hold me over until I could continue my other file, I decided it would be a nice time to see what happens if you just refuse to consume any magic items. Of course, if you are not playing as Gale and ignore his Orb Problem, he will apparently eventually leave your party, but what if you ARE Gale? I couldn't find an answer with a minimal amount of Googling SO

There are three stages to his Arcane Hunger, each of which give you increasingly debilitating debuffs: Arcane Hunger, Greater Arcane Hunger, and Severe Arcane Hunger. It seems the triggers for progressing to the next stage are the same as the triggers where he would start needing an item in my other file (i.e. that bridge next to the Blighted Village, entering the temple at the Goblin Camp, the Hag's Lair, etc.) which obviously makes sense. I figure with the amount of contingencies in this game for incredibly specific situations, surely there is some kind of unique dialog or fun cutscene that will play if I ignore the Arcane Hunger long enough and just play through the debuffs.

I played Act 1 completely normally, doing a lil quicksave every time I was about to Long Rest just in case the game gave me a cutscene of the big explosion upon waking up (I thought maybe it would be time-based, similar to the game over you get if Gale dies and you leave him for 3 days (? I think?) which does not seem to be the case). I made it through basically everything without anything odd happening besides the aforementioned debuffs. The Severe Arcane Hunger is where things get really sloggy, because Gale can only move at half speed.

I have been slowly trudging EVERYWHERE since the Goblin Camp.

I eventually started going out of my way to make sure I hit all the Arcane Hunger triggers I know about, to see what would happen, and the answer is nothing, aside from Gale occasionally reminding me that he's wracked with terrible pain.

So, surely, the game will certainly not let me into the Mountain Pass without SOMETHING happening, right?

WELL

That's surprising, but whatever, at least now I have the chance to see what happens if you go meet Elminster without having consumed any magic items,

Except

He wasn't there.

I went to the area in the Mountain Pass where the cutscene is supposed to start, and it just. Didn't happen. Nothing happened. I could walk right up to the entrance to the next area.

But SURELY, the game won't let me into the gotdamn Shadow-Cursed Lands without saying SOMETHING about the fact that the orb has been starving for several weeks at this point, right? The game isn't going to let me into Act Freaking 2 without at the very least giving me a game over to tell me I'm not allowed to do this and make me reload and actually feed this poor starving wizard, right?

RIGHT?

WELL

WELL

Here we are. I'm at the Last Light Inn, I'm at the Taco Bell, I'm at the combination Last Light Inn Taco Bell with a bag full of delicious Cheesy Gordita Magic Boots that I refuse to eat.

SO LIKE. How far does this go??? Am I gonna be able to infiltrate Moonrise Towers without ever speaking to Elminster? Am I gonna trudge all the way to Ketheric at half freaking speed and fight him with Disadvantage on everything?? Am I gonna make it all the way to goddang Baldur's Gate with a Netherese orb that is long overdue to explode???

Like I said, I did not find an answer on what happens if you do this on a Gale Origin playthrough, and at this point, I don't even want to, I just want to see how far I can take this.

I already know I'll have to do another normal Gale playthrough where I actually FEED HIM after this, because I'm sure I've missed out on a ton of dialogue and whatnot, especially from Tara who only ever has this to say when I speak with her in camp:

I am genuinely beginning to wonder if there is actually nothing in place to stop me from doing this. I am wondering what the dialogue options will look like when I get to the "Heart of the Absolute" where Gale would ordinarily want to blow himself up, if Elminster had ever shown up to tell him to do so. Maybe the devs just didn't bother, and figured that no one would be stupid and stubborn enough to play through the whole dang thing while so severely debuffed.

Joke's on them, Disadvantage means NOTHING to Magic Missile Machine Gale Dekarios.

[galedekarios]

gale, waterdeep & coinage

just musings on gale's means as well as waterdeep lore bc i love waterdeep:

Gale: Believe it or not, but I witnessed a similar standoff back at the Yawning Portal. Of course, an establishment like that invites all sorts of outlandish entertainments. Player: What's the Yawning Portal Gale: An inn in Waterdeep. Never a dull moment there. Adventurers come from all over Faerûn to try their luck down the well: Leads into the Undermountain, you see - full of death, danger, and vast amounts of treasure. Hard to resist. Player: What was the standoff about? Gale: Oh, a drow, a dragonborn, and a cleric of Cyric walk into a bar. Your standard fare. Maybe someone was cheating at cards, maybe it was some weird lovers' quarrel. In any case, out came the crossbow, and a hush fell over the entire room.devnote Player: What happened next? Gale: I stood up and yelled: 'Shadowdark ale for everyone!' The crowd cheered, the tension drained into five dozen tankards, and soon all was well again. Gale: In a place like the Yawning Portal, the most powerful magic is calling for a round of drinks. Gale: Mind you, all I did was call for ale, but you went and stood in front of that crossbow. I'd drink to that.

i will definitely take a look at the yawning portal itself at a later date (as well as other points of interest within the city) bc it's very interesting as a focal point in waterdhavian history and society.

while we can only speculate about what gale's background in terms of means, wealth and standing looked like since things like tutors and even maids were not uncommon in waterdhavian society, it is interesting to note that he - whatever his personal means at the time this event took place - felt the need to defuse the brewing fight with 'five dozen tankards'.

we do actually know how much one such tankard costs at the yawning portal:

[source]

17cp x 60 = 1020cp

this was interesting to me in terms of this meant in actual terms of coinage and wealth and money spent.

here's an overview of waterdeep's various coins:

source: volo's waterdeep enchiridion

gale spent over a 1000 nibs/copper pieces that evening (or more than one sun/platinum coin) to de-escalate a potentially lethal fight.

to put that into perspective, i'm adding this reference of prices here:

source: volo's waterdeep enchiridion

gale also attended blackstaff academy, with elminster as his mentor. the academy had costs attached with it:

Acceptance to the Academy was predicated on either demonstrating extraordinary magical aptitude (those who could not cast arcane spells were very rarely admitted) or having a particularly compelling personal history. Joining the Academy was free, however monthly dues were required to continue attendance. These fees started at 10 gp per month and increased as a student gained seniority and required more advanced tutelage. In addition, it was a requirement that any new spell that was discovered or researched by an apprentice had to be added to Blackstaff Tower's library. [source]

ten gold pieces per month as fees, although with gale being elminster's mentee, he may have chosen to assist gale and morena partially or fully with any costs that blackstaff academy may have charged.

it does sound, however his childhood may have looked like with a presumably absent father and a mother with her hands full with a young genius, able to conjure rabbits as a babe, summoning a tressym, a magma mephit who set a room on fire, as well as casting a level 3 spell (fireball) at age 8 or younger, that gale at least during the height of his career as a wizard, lived comfortably.

ending this with more food for thought and a banter between gale and karlach:

Gale: They say wealth offers a form of magic. Alas, it's one I've rarely dabbled in. Karlach: Nor I. Never had more than a few coppers in the city, and any soul coins in Avernus went straight to Zariel. Gale: Make no mistake. Souls are sold for coins up here as well. All too cheaply, in most cases.

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

[lostinforestbound]

Hi, like your writings a lot ❤️ may I ask for a request?

What about Rolan asking sorcerer/wizard Tav to be his teacher after Lorroakan death? Tav has never been bad for him, only saving his life and his siblings, giving advices and protection, so, why not? At least, it a good way to become closer OR Rolan quietly (or not quietly) pining for powerful Tav

Thank you so much for your patience! I think I'm finally back in the game! I actually have thought up this situation a lot (especially with my own Tav who's a Storm Sorcerer, maybe I'll introduce him sometime soon)! This was a lot of fun to explore! I'm also a sucker for pining tropes!

Rolan with Sorcerer!Tav Teaching Him Magic

When Rolan takes over the tower, he makes it his sole mission to master the weave. It's harder than it looks, but he's very determined.

There's some aspects he doesn't understand yet, though. Especially how those bloody sorcerers are able to manipulate existing spells and make them more powerful

When everything is over, the Netherbrain defeated, he begrudgingly asks Tav to him about "Metamagic".

Can he learn the aspects of Metamagic on his own? Of course he can! Not only is he a prodigy, he's now the master of Ramazith's tower. All the knowledge he has access to gives him the ultimate advantage.

But he wants to get closer to Tav. He's been pining for them so helplessly since the Shadow Cursed Lands. This is his one opportunity he can spend time with them without it seeming strange.

He also knows Tav is the one person that won't treat him like an idiot. They'll treat him as an equal, a fellow peer of the arcane arts. He'll be respected.

Tav seems happy to do so, teaching all they know about the basics of Metamagic, how they're able to use it, and how Rolan might be able to use it as well.

Rolan can't see it through his frustration, but Tav is so confident in his abilities. While this may take time, they truly believe Rolan can master Metamagic even without being a sorcerer, and pass their own abilities. They may be more advanced than he is, but Rolan is a quick learner.

Gods, sometimes Rolan is so damn distracted. Why must he get so flustered when Tav adjusts his form? Why are their hands so warm? Have they always been touchy? It's all in his head, certainly.

Writing Blurb

Sparks are flying in the palms of Rolan's hands, carefully trying to split the Witch Bolt into two. He never realized the amount of strain it takes to separate one central point of magic, and the amount of concentration it takes. Rolan knows a wizard isn't supposed to be able to do this, but he's also no ordinary wizard. He can do this if he just-

Tav observes him and his hands carefully, and his concentration falters when he realizes they're staring. Sweat beads on his brow as he tries to keep the spell together, but unfortunately, it fades into nothing after all the hard work.

"Damn it!" He practically shouts, shaking out his hands in frustration.

"You were a lot closer that time." Tav comments, about to put a hand on his shoulder, but he turns away before they can.

"We've been practicing this same thing for days. DAYS!" He exclaims, running his hands through his now sweat-damp hair, "Why can't I get this? I should be able to do this by now!"

He's hardly the impressive "master of the tower" he pretends to be. How could he be such a failure? In front of Tav, no less? He's no fool, Tav is a savior of Baldur's Gate, of course they're much more advanced than he is! They know spells he hasn't even been able to touch yet, but gods damn it all, he wants to impress them with something.

He needs to be worthy of their attention. Then maybe, he'll have a slimmer of a chance with them.

They place a hand on his back, jolting him out of his thoughts. "A master of the arcane can't cast properly under stress. We can take a break-"

"No, no, I can do this," He states, raising his hands to start again, "Let me-"

Tav gently grabs his hands, interrupting the spell in an instant. Oh, how he hates it when he feels his face flush; not from exertion, but from embarrassment. He helplessly imagined a situation where he got to hold their hands, but it wasn't anything like this. He hoped it would've been in a more romantic setting when he felt ready to woo them.

"You can't focus when you're stressed like this. I would know, I've tried." They say, summoning a mage hand idly to grab the bottle of Arabellan Dry on Rolan's desk. "Let's take a break and regroup."

He huffs in annoyance but reluctantly sits with them as they fill two glasses with the wine. They hand one over, and he immediately takes a generous sip to calm his nerves. When have they ever sat so close to him? They're practically touching knees- stop, he needs to get it together.

"You'll get it. It's impossible for a wizard unless they have sorcery in their blood."

Scoffing, he takes a few gulps of wine before speaking. "Then I will be the first."

They give him a sweet smile, ignoring how it made his heart flutter. "That's the spirit."

"I don't understand what I'm getting wrong," He quickly continues on, trying to suppress the warmth in his chest. "As soon as I think I have it in my grasp, it fails."

"We'll figure it out. I know you can do it. Think about how you made some spells your own. The Mage Armor, the Thunderwave, the Magic Missle- you have so much potential. Rolan: Master of Ramazith's Tower, always achieving the impossible."

He looks away when he feels his face grow hot again, not noticing when Tav gets up. When he finally turns towards them, they're offering a hand to get back up, so he takes it after pulling himself together, wine forgotten.

"Now, let's try again."

[loviatarsluv]

chapter one: lavender silk

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place mostly after the events of the game with some flashbacks sprinkled throughout)

rating: mature

CW: (f) masturbation and (separately) (m) masturbation, fantasizing about one another and pining and yearning and aching for each other while being in the same house (I mean seriously guys)

in summary: After the fall of the brain, and her home having been destroyed in the chaos, Gale offers Elara sanctuary with him back in Waterdeep. She struggles to deal with the feelings she has been harboring for him and the guilt that she’d been the one to prevent either of them from taking the relationship any further a few months prior. Yearning and pining ensues

a/n: rewrite of this gale fic because I lost inspiration and motivation for it a while back but I miss writing about my sweet wizard man and also I want to write romantic gale smut !!!! I crave it I need it !!!!

word count: 6.8k

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i.

She has always loved the color brown. 

It was easily one of the most overlooked colors, one so common you almost forget it entirely— one we so easily take for granted. 

Yet, some of the most lovely things in life come in the warmest shades of brown. 

A cup of hot tea on a chilly day while the rain pours and patters against the windows. The leather bindings of her favorite book that brought her boundless comfort more times than she could count on either hand, worn from the years of reading it and tucking it into her bag so that it was always at her side. The rough bark of the great oak tree near the tower in Waterdeep. 

She spends many mornings sitting on the roots of that tree, the large and weathered trunk shielding her from the harsh rays of the rising morning sun, either reading a book she nabbed from the library in his office or scribbling nonsense in her notebook. 

Occasionally her newly befriended tressym companion, Tara,  joins her, sitting beside her and allowing the sun to warm just the back half of her, basking her fur and wings in a beautiful golden glow. There are brown spots on her fur. She’s lovely. 

The loveliest of things, though, were the things she tried with everything within her not to think about— like Gale Dekarios’ long chestnut brown hair, or the silver streaks that adorned the dark waves near the top of his head like it were a crown atop a prince’s, and the way he would tie it back into a messy half updo that perfectly accentuated his face and neck. The small pieces of hair that would fall into his eyes that she so desperately wanted to brush away. His perfectly groomed facial hair that had matching gray streaks and how he’d run his hands through the bristles on his cheeks or rake his fingers through his hair when he was deep in thought. 

And his eyes— gods, his damned eyes. So warm and kind and full of a genuine sweetness that she’d never seen in another person’s eyes before. Eyes that seemed to read her so well as if she were a book he had read a dozen or more times, especially when she least wanted her pages to be turned. Eyes that when in the right lighting, appeared golden, like the richest honey in all of Faerun. Eyes that really seemed to see her. Many had looked at her before— few had ever really seen her. 

No, she certainly didn’t think about it. Not often, really. 

Only when his hands would brush against hers as he took the scroll from her hands that he kindly asked her to fetch for him. Or when he would utter a groggy but kindhearted good morning to her as he ambled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, the first light of dawn breaking through the parted dark velvet curtains that drape over the large windows, the golden streams beaming on him in just the right way to make him appear otherworldly. Or when she would fall asleep on the chaise in the study and wake to find a blanket draped over her body. 

Not often. Not really.

One would assume it would become easier after a while; to be in his presence and not ache at every smile, or every laugh, or every kind gesture he ever made. But it wasn’t a simple ache that could be balmed by rest and a special tea or a healing potion— it was consuming. It flooded her veins and extended to every extremity of her aching body.

Only made worse by the fact that the blame for her own misery fell solely upon her own shoulders. 

The thought of that night made her shudder— what a fool she’d been and continues to be. 

The others always teased her, telling her that the obvious pining was painful to witness to which she would shake her head and refuse to admit that every part of her physically hurt to see him struggle, or how badly she wanted to hold him until the stars burned out of the sky and shield him from all that threatened him. 

Selfishly, the original reason she’d given herself to justify ignoring her feelings was the orb— it was safer for everyone that way, at the time. 

Then when Elminster stabilized it she scrambled to find a new excuse, settling for the fact that he had been considering detonating the orb, as Mystra intended. 

It was to save herself from the heartache of loving someone who in a matter of days would be reduced to mere stardust and wasted potential due to a spiteful god whom she had once worshiped herself. 

Then when she had finally successfully talked him off of the proverbial edge, she was at a loss. What was truly stopping her from loving him as she knew she would whether she expressed it to him or not? 

She turned him down the night prior, but so much transpired in such a short time that the opportunity to rectify it never came to pass. 

And now, here she remained, reaping the bitter consequences of her own lack of communication. 

She watched Gale read a letter that Shadowheart sent for them as he sat at his large mahogany desk, his glasses balancing just at the end of his nose and his brows furrowed as he read. His expression didn’t change or seem anything other than relaxed as he read, so she took that as a good sign. She relaxed slightly into the plush cushions of the chaise, a weight she didn’t realize she’d been bearing lifting off of her shoulders. 

She lounged on her favorite spot in his office where she would spend hours reading and researching with him, or where she would sit as she intently listened to him bestow her with random tidbits of knowledge that he found riveting, his cadence as he spoke about it making her feel just as excited by it as he was. 

“I wonder how many more times any one of them will promise to visit before they actually do,” she jokes, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Gale huffs air from his nose, never looking up at her from the assortment of scrolls, parchment, and tomes scattered across the surface of his desk. “Knowing them, they have all got their hands quite full in their own lives. Especially Shadowheart. I imagine keeping Astarion in check is keeping her on her toes.” 

She chuckles lightly and sighs, leaning her cheek against the back of the chaise. “I imagine you’re probably right.” 

Another comfortable silence fills the room, as it often did while Gale busied himself with whatever studies he found pressing enough to indulge in, these days mostly consisting of vampirism and potential cures or anything to aid with the symptoms, at her request as Astarion outright refused to ask Gale himself. 

She typically assisted with this, finding her own books and tomes to sift through for any pertinent information that could assist in any way, but today her mind was anywhere but in the present. Each page she had tried to read looked as though they’d been written in unintelligible scrawl.

She quietly hops off of the lounger and pads over to the large open window on the other side of the room, perching herself on the windowsill and gazing at the vast expanse of the ocean below, the sun shimmering on it in hues of orange and pink as it began to set over the horizon. 

The breeze is pleasant and the faint salty scent of the ocean drifts toward her with the wind and fills her senses. Her eyes shut as she indulges in it for a few moments, feeling a kind of serenity that she hadn’t felt in a while. 

When she finally opens her eyes, she finds Gale has turned in his seat and is watching her with a peaceful grin on his face. She holds his gaze for a moment before she has to tear herself away as she squirms under his intense gaze. 

“Would you care to accompany me for a stroll? It’s a beautiful evening,” he asks, leaning against the back of the chair, his chin tilted up as he watched her.

Gods, give me strength, she thinks to herself. How could she ever think living in the same tower as this man was a wise decision? 

“It is,” she nearly chokes out, then clears the lump from her throat. “Almost reminds me of—”

“That evening in the Shadow Cursed Lands. When I showed you Waterdeep. This very room, to be exact.” He reminisces, his tone neither bitter, nor pleasant. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up, and the shock of it nearly caused her to topple over the sill and fall out of the open window. 

Great. 

Gale jolts in his seat, preparing to rescue her from her own potential idiotic demise, before she quickly hops down and plants her feet firmly on the ground and shoots him a reassuring glance. 

“I’m alright,” she holds her hands in front of her, her breathing uneven as she recovers. 

“I don’t think my heart can handle being around you, at times,” he jokes. His eyes widen and his face pales, and he clears his throat nervously before he continues. “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just— that’s the second— no, third— time you’ve nearly fallen out of that window. I am beginning to consider casting an arcane lock on the damned thing.” 

I don’t think my heart can handle being around you.

Her stomach flips and somersaults as she replays it in her head a million times over within a second, despite him quickly correcting himself. Little did he know, she felt very much the same way around him, but likely for an entirely different reason. 

“Apologies,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to the floor sheepishly. “I’ve never been exactly graceful.” 

He sighs, silently chuckling and shaking his head. “So I’ve gathered. Though, you could always hold your own in battle, to your own credit.” 

He stands and joins her in front of the window, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back slightly as he mimics what she’d done just moments prior, minus the potential self-defenestration.

A stronger breeze passes, blowing back his chestnut waves and his lavish looking robes with it. His slightly aged and weathered skin bathed in the peachy hues from the sunset made him appear as if he’d been painted rather than real and standing just beside her. She shudders. 

“What do you say?” He asks, turning to her once again, his hands clasped behind his back. 

She swallows hard. The thought of a stroll in the warm twilight with him while she was in this state could potentially prove to be disastrous. She fiddles with the bottom hem of her blouse as it flowed loosely down her frame, her gaze fixed on a random point far off into the horizon. 

“I—I’m actually not feeling very well… I believe I may need to lie down for a bit. But perhaps… another time?” She stammers, her voice meek and unconvincing. At least to herself. 

Stupid, stupid. 

Gale nods, but is unable to entirely mask his disappointment, a slight frown gracing his features that would almost be impossible to notice if it weren’t for his always expressive eyes. Her heart nearly shatters at the way his dark irises resembled a puppy who’d just been denied a treat. Was it too late to take it back? 

“Are you well? Is there anything I can do for you?” He takes a step closer, concern replacing the disappointment in his eyes as his brows softened and his hand raised as if he was going to reach for her, before quickly lowering it and dropping it to his side. 

Her body stiffens and her back straightens, her heart pounding. How did she get to this point— where something as simple as him extending base level kindness to her was enough to affect her this greatly? It was torture— and the more time she spent with him, the more she ached to bridge the seemingly vast gap between them. To be close to him in every way, to tangle herself in him and pray the knots never loosen. 

But she had already accepted that she’d ruined her chances many months ago, and that it would be best to try to move forward until the feeling eventually fades as if it had never been present to begin with. That, for now, all she could do was endure. 

“I’m fine, really. I think I just… perhaps I just need a nice relaxing bath, some time to myself.” She offers, throwing it out meaninglessly then realizing that a hot bath sounded absolutely divine. 

An unreadable expression flashes across his face for a flicker of an instant before he recomposes, then smooths the front of his coat down with his hands and clears his throat. He offers her his usual warm grin, and nods. 

“By all means. Perhaps I’ll start dinner while you do. It should be done by the time you’ve finished.” 

She can’t hold back the thankful smile that teases the corners of her mouth.

She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.” 

Without exchanging another word, they disperse, him retreating downstairs and her essentially running to her room to grab her towels and toiletries. 

She grabs two towels, one for her body and one for her hair, then the soap that she’d gotten the last time she went to the market to pick up a few of her personal essentials. The shopkeeper let her know that it was a special soap, made particularly with ingredients that had calming effects on the user. 

How appropriate. 

She pads out of her room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large washroom at the far end of the hallway. 

Gale had a way of leaving his mark on every space he inhabited, and this one was no exception. 

The room was cozy, draped in various deep violet curtains and several houseplants that looked as if they’d been cared for by the most skilled of botanists, not a single dead leaf or weak stem. 

There were robes neatly hung on the wall closest to the large clawfoot tub on one end of the room— his robes. She mindlessly runs her hand across the soft fabric of one of them, noticing a small tear in the collar and a few scuffs and singed marks throughout it. She imagines what mischief he’d gotten himself into while wearing it, and whether she had been present for it. A smile creeps across her face at the thought. 

She tears herself away from her thoughts and his clothes (that still smelled strongly of him), and approaches the tub, turning the ornate handle for the hot water and watching it run, slowly filling the marble basin. She perches herself on the edge of the tub, staring blankly into the rippling water. 

She thinks of how many times Gale had probably done the exact same thing as she was doing right now— how he would sink himself into the water and finally rest his weary and aching bones, and wash away the stresses of the day even if it were only for the small duration of him being enveloped in the comforts of a warm bath. She wonders if he ever— 

No. Another thing she absolutely could not think about. A thought to avoid at all costs if she intended on ever being able to look him in the eye again. It was hard enough already as it was.

The tub finally fills just as she shakes her head to clear herself of the beginnings of what were certainly very perverse and not very platonic thoughts, thankfully allowing her to now focus on something else. She quickly disrobes, folding her clothes neatly and setting them aside on the chair in the corner of the room— a habit she’d picked up from watching him do it and knowing that neatness was his preference in most things. 

The room, apart from the heat radiating off of the water in the tub, is chilly against her flushed skin, instantly raising gooseflesh all over her as she peels away the thin layers of clothing she’d been wearing. The tile feels icy against the bare soles of her feet as she returns to the tub, reaching over and grabbing the soap off of the shelf she’d placed it on earlier as she begins to submerge herself. 

The second her body dipped below the surface and the warm water completely enveloped her, she felt all tension in her body release like it had never been there to begin with. She hadn’t even used the soap yet and she felt the calming effects of it from the smell alone as she dunked it underwater. Lavender and a hint of citrus. 

Sometimes she caught a whiff of lavender when the window in the kitchen was open and the breeze would jostle the lavender plant that sat on the sill. She remembered Gale telling her that he loved the smell of fresh lavender. Not that that was the reason she bought the soap. Not at all. Not really.

Her body sinks lower and lower into the bath until only her nose and everything above it remains above the waterline, her slow breaths causing ripples in the water. 

Her mind wanders back to him— picturing him with his hair down, loose and wet tresses falling over his face, tan skin glistening. The long column of his neck stretched, Adam’s apple bobbing with his head thrown back as he—

No, no. 

Gods. What is wrong with me?

She clenches her legs together, in hopes to subvert the throbbing between her legs. She leans her head back against the edge of the tub, inhaling a shuddering breath. 

Maybe this was what she needed— just a minute of bliss. Her own personal bliss. 

Against her better judgment, her hand slowly travels down her body, but in her mind it was his; the way his roughened hands would feel as they trailed the length of her torso. The way his fingers would feel as they chased her pleasure, coaxing it out of her the way one would coax an animal out of the shadows. 

Was he as giving of a lover as she pictured? Was he selfish? Did it even matter? 

Her breath catches in her throat as her fingers expertly circle the swollen bud where most of her pleasure resides, now realizing how badly she’d needed this. Release. Guilt aside. 

Unaware and completely lost in her fantasies, soft moans and cries fell from her lips, some sounding suspiciously close to his name. She couldn’t care less in this moment, she was already so close—

“Oh, hells!” 

The door had burst open, Gale standing slack jawed in the doorway for a second that felt like several before quickly shielding his eyes.

She gasps loudly, reflexively standing from the tub, before realizing that was worse than just staying where she was, one hand moving to cover her mouth in shock and the other arm shielding her chest to maintain whatever shred of modesty or dignity she had left.

“I— I thought—  your bedroom door was closed, so I assumed you were— forgive me! I just—  um—” He clamors over himself trying to make any sort of sense at all, never moving his hand an inch out of the way of his eyes, closing them tightly for good measure. “D-Dinner is finished and on the table waiting for you when you’re ready. Take your time.” 

He darts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall preceding. 

What in the hells just happened?!

Her heart pounds anxiously in her chest as if it were a wardrum and she’s almost certain that she might actually die of embarrassment. That is if she doesn’t resort to drowning herself in the leftover bathwater to avoid going downstairs and facing him, first. 

That seemed like the safest option. Sinking back down into the water and staying there until she rotted away. 

She remained in the water for what felt like both an eternity and not nearly long enough until the water had officially turned cold, sincerely debating dunking her head under and not letting herself up for air to spare herself the misery of facing Gale after—

Oh, gods, how much did he hear? How much did he see? 

She groans loudly, covering her flushed and surely beet red face with both hands. Her shriveled fingers and hands serve as a sign to dry off, much to her dismay. 

Fine. The world’s most awkward dinner ever, it is. 

She quickly stands again and wraps one of the towels around her body, then the other around her shoulders for extra coverage before peeking her head out of the door, checking if the coast was clear before dashing down the hallway and into the safety of her bedroom. 

Once inside, she shuts the door with a loud click, then leans against the wood and sighs. 

Within one singular day, within at least an hour of each other, she’d rejected his very kind offer of a nice walk under the sunset, and he’d walked in on her in what could only be the worst situation for him to walk in on, and he’d likely seen her entire naked body.  

They had experienced their fair share of awkward exchanges in all of their time knowing each other, but nothing quite as catastrophic as this. What could she even say? Should she pretend it never happened? Should she apologize?

Her back slides down the wooden door until she lands on the floor with a loud thud, her head dejectedly falling against her knees as she pulls them to her chest. 

Accidents happen, and he just so happened to accidentally manage to walk into the washroom at the exact moment her fingers were inside herself and she’d let his name slip from her lips which he may or may not have heard. Things happen. It’s fine. 

She recalls him saying that her bedroom door was shut and that was why he assumed it was safe for him to come in. She’s not sure why him noticing something like that made her stomach twist and do flips as if she were tumbling very suddenly down a hill, but it did all the same. She wonders what other things he notices about her, if anything else at all. The thought makes her throat run dry.

With a huff, she stands. She paces around the room for another few or ten minutes before her stomach begins to rumble. Shit. 

She pulls on an oversized blouse that fell well past the top of her thighs as well as a comfortable pair of pants, feeling the need to cover as much of herself as possible to maybe cancel out the fact that he’d seen everything only moments ago. It didn’t work, of course, but it was worth a try. 

Realizing that he was probably sitting at the table and waiting for her to join him before he began eating, as he always did, she finally forces herself to face the inevitable. 

Perhaps he hadn’t seen anything. 

Hopefully. 

She peeks around the corner and sees him exactly where she expected him to be— the same seat he always sat in for any meals, opposite the chair she always occupied, staring blankly down at his plate, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He looks equally as perturbed by their encounter as she does, and she can’t tell if that is a comfort to her or if it made her want to run while she had the chance. 

She catches a flash of auburn and gray fur as Tara flies in from an open window and perches herself on the table beside Gale. He doesn’t acknowledge her physically, but utters a quiet ‘hello, Tara’ that sounds more like a groan. 

“Mr. Dekarios, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” She chirps, pawing at his bicep with concern. “Where is my favorite reading companion? Have you finally scared her off?”

Gale swats her paw off of his arm and shoots her a look of annoyance. “Not now, Tara.”

“Did something happen between you two? About time, I say. I do rather like having her around, you know.” The feathered feline continues, pacing in front of Gale and nearly stepping right in the middle of his plate before he scoots it away.

“I fear she may run for the hills like a bat out of a crypt after today,” He groans. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself. It seems to be my specialty these days.” 

“Mr. Dekarios, I may just be a simple tressym but I have it on good authority she won’t go anywhere.” Tara says, her tone meaningful and full of insinuation as she pokes and prods Gale’s arm once again. 

He looks at his companion with soft eyes full of despair, his entire body seeming to sag in his seat in contrast to his usually perfect and poised posture. “I hope you’re right.”

Silence fills the room as Tara comfortingly bumps her head against Gale’s shoulder, eliciting a sweet smile from him that makes her insides feel fuzzy. She waits a few moments more before exiting the stairway so as to not appear suspicious or that she’d been eavesdropping. Her steps are extra quiet as she carefully tiptoes into the dining room. Tara notices her first and greets her warmly. 

“Elara! There you are! How are you, my friend?” Tara calls to her, strutting across the large wooden surface of the dinner table to her side, sitting right next to her plate. 

She glances at Gale for a brief moment, his eyes boring into her as if he were anticipating something terrible to come from her mouth. She offers him a shy smile, then turns her attention back to Tara. 

“I’m well, thank you. I missed you this morning, Tara. Find any juicy pigeons to snack on?” She jokes, patting her head gently. Tara purrs and bumps her head against Elara’s palm, almost appearing to smile at the affectionate gesture. Gale’s eyes darted back and forth between his two companions rapidly, an unreadable expression on his face. 

She tilts her head at him in a silent inquiry, to which he simply waves his hand and invites her to sit.

“Oh, yes, of course. You’ll have to come with me some day.” She offers, and Elara chuckles. As silly as it was, she knew how sweet it was for Tara to invite her to join her for a hunt, regardless of whether or not she ever actually would. 

“I’d love to.”

The chair legs squeal as she pulls it out from under the table and sits, eyeing her plate and finding that somehow her food was still steaming hot as if it were fresh, while Gale’s appeared to have gone cold and stale. 

“I warmed it for you.” He says, answering her question before she even had the chance to ask. She smiles a grateful smile before taking a bite, not realizing just how hungry she’d been until the very second the food landed on her taste buds.

They eat mostly in silence, aside from the sound of Gale’s fork scraping against the plate as he pushes his food around. She wants to ask why he didn’t bother to heat his own plate as well, but doesn’t want to pry. Perhaps he just wasn’t that hungry. 

The echoes of something she overheard Gale say in response to Tara’s teasing linger in her mind, reverberating off of the walls of her skull as if he’d shouted them into the mouth of a cave. 

I hope you’re right. 

He hoped she’d stay. He wants her to stay. 

The sound of Tara taking flight startles her from her thoughts, catching a glimpse of the tail end of her as she flies toward the staircase, likely heading to her favorite spot in Gale’s office on a blanket right in front of the fireplace. The departure of what acted as the buffer for the awkward tension between the two of them made it impossible to ignore the proverbial owlbear in the room. 

“I should have—”

“I’m sorry you saw—”

They stare at each other for a moment, then both chuckle.

“You first.” She says quietly, her smile dying as she braces herself. 

Gale’s voice cracks nervously, and he clears his throat before trying again. “I apologize again— for earlier. I should have knocked.” 

She waves him off, dropping her gaze back down to her plate as she pokes and prods at the vegetables that remained. “Things happen.” 

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just fear that I’ve made you uncomfortable more than once today.” 

Now her gaze is locked right on him, confusion coating her features. When he notices, he sighs. 

“When I asked you if you wanted to go for a stroll. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. 

Gods, why is he so damn considerate? 

“No, no,” she says, her voice softening and her eyes matching it. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

It’s his turn to be confused now, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth pressed into a line. “Why did you say no, then?” 

What answer could she give him that wasn’t entirely incriminating? ‘I said no because I’m hopelessly, idiotically in love with you and you make me nervous’? Not a chance. 

“I… I’m just feeling a bit off today. It’s nothing, I just— I would rather not burden you with my issues.” 

He eyes her and suddenly it’s like she’s completely naked under his gaze once again, only she nearly feels even more exposed now than she did when she was actually naked. He can tell there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes.

“Well, do know that I’m always here if you need to talk. If there’s something burdening you, I don’t mind helping you carry the load.” 

Only there isn’t anything he can do to help— hells, even this conversation is doing the very opposite of helping. 

“Thank you, Gale. Really.” She smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry you— you know.”

He waves his hand in front of him as he goes to take a long gulp of his wine. He barely finishes swallowing before he speaks again. “You’ve no need to apologize.”

Silence fills the room again. Lighter, this time, at least, but not lacking most of the tension it held before. There were things unsaid on both ends, both too scared to break the peace. So silent it remained. 

She clears her throat after a while and after she’d finished her dinner. “Thank you, for dinner. Delicious, as always.” 

“My pleasure,” He breathes, pushing his chair back and standing with his plate in hand. “I apologize, but I may turn in early tonight. Don’t worry about your dishes, I will take care of them in the morning.”

She watches him as he scrapes his plate into the waste bin and then places it in the sink basin, rubbing his hands together before turning to head for the stairs. He breezes past her and she catches a whiff of that familiar scent she’d caught from the robes hanging in the bathroom— sandalwood, bergamot, and a hint of old parchment. Something she would try not to think about if she weren’t reminded of it everyday that she spent surrounded by him, still feeling as though he were in the room with her even when he was away.

Just before his foot lands on the first stair, she turns and calls to him. He pauses, turning his entire body at the sound of her voice.

“Goodnight, Gale.” 

He beams at her, his smile reaching his deep brown eyes that she could see the twinkle in even from across the room. She swears she would be able to see it from miles away.

“Goodnight, Elara.” 

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Lavender. Gale loved the smell of lavender. 

It lingered throughout the halls and wafted out from the washroom for hours after her bath, and he found himself stopping just outside the doorway without realizing it, as if some invisible force was drawing him to it. As if that smell were a siren’s call, and he was a fisherman lost at sea being lured right into her claws. He smelled it on her when she came downstairs, her long azure tinted waves still damp and falling in her face, her skin still flushed from the warmth of the water. 

Selfishly, he could not get the image of her out of his head— the elegant curves of her body and the way it glistened as the hazy light of dusk paired with candlelight cast an ethereal glow that almost made her seem like nothing more than a conjured illusion. Though, he was sure no wizard would ever be able to conjure something as meticulously crafted as her, something that exquisite couldn’t have even been sculpted by the gods. 

The muffled sound of her voice from the other side of the door replayed in his mind as well; he hadn’t heard much, but what he did hear almost sounded like—

Impossible. 

It felt wrong and he felt the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders for violating her privacy tenfold, and yet, his brain could not seem to let him forget for even a fraction of a second. He was incredibly thankful he was able to make it downstairs and hide his arousal under the table before she saw him again and was truly put off by him once and for all. He cursed himself internally for being unable to contain himself— one can’t always be a gentleman, it seems.  

It was purely a miracle that he managed to contain himself as he walked past her to finally retire to his bedroom after what felt like the most mentally exhausting day. It was a miracle every day that he managed to contain himself around her, really. 

Especially on days that she wore dresses— he adored dresses on her. He pictured taking her for a proper evening out in Waterdeep. Greeting her at the door with flowers, walking hand in hand and buying her dinner, showing her all of his favorite places in the city he loved most in the world, then kissing her goodnight on the stoop and smiling like a giddy schoolboy the entire rest of the night after they departed. 

He’d been enraptured by her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, that fateful day on that beach amongst the wreckage and chaos. Her face being the first he saw as he emerged from that portal felt all too fitting, as hers was the only face he had been able to think of or dream of for months now.  

Even after she turned him down in the Shadow Cursed Lands, his affinity for her did not subside. If anything, it burned brighter and brighter in the weeks that followed as she showed more care for him than another person aside from his mother and his tressym had done for him in what felt like a lifetime. As she did everything in her power to save her friends one by one, as well as the rest of the world. 

After it was all said and done and he’d seen that look in her eyes after the brain and the crown fell into the Chionthar, and all of her newly acquired friends had departed while she remained— he knew he could not allow her to think she had nowhere or no one in the world to turn to. 

While you’d think having the object of your desires right within your own home at all times would make things easier— it did not. It only further complicated an already somewhat complicated situation. 

He valued his friendship with her greatly, and feared that he would jeopardize it if he attempted anything romantic— but something was telling him he needed to try. To be patient and if nothing ever came of it, he would give her a safe place to lay her head at night. 

She was worth trying for. She was worth everything. 

Now, he’s tormented by her being so close and yet not close enough to touch. To occupy the same home as her, but never the same space was downright agonizing. 

She had become the bane of his very existence, only because every day she made it even harder to resist her. 

For example, the way she interacted with Tara— whom, mind you, generally disliked most other humans or humanoid creatures aside from himself and his mother— the way Tara greeted her with such ardor, not too different from the way she would greet him. The way she not only allowed her to pet her head, but even purred as she did so. Tara is many things, but easily swayed by people is not one of them. And yet, she welcomes her into their home as if she’d always been there. As if she’d been simply waiting for her to come home all this time. 

It had begun to feel that way for Gale as well— his heart ached at the thought of her finding her own place and leaving. While he respected her decisions no matter what they may be, he could not deny that he’d miss her presence in this house much more. 

He felt himself going mad. Absolutely and truly around the bend crazy over her. 

He certainly wasn’t proud of what he’d done the second he made it into his bedchamber for the night. 

To make matters worse, it wasn’t even the first time he’d done such a thing. 

The pained straining of his erection against his clothing was making his entire body ache along with it, as if it were punishing him for neglecting it for as long as he had. The second he released it from the confines of his pants and underclothes, a bead of precum leaked and he groaned. 

Gods, this is madness. 

Perhaps maybe if he did this, he could get it out of his system and forget about it all in the morning. Yes, he thought, that makes perfectly logical and reasonable sense. 

He clumsily strips his day clothes off apart from his underwear, uncharacteristically discarding it into a heap beside his bed before jumping into the expanse of the large mattress in the center of the room and making himself comfortable. 

He looks down at his own pathetically swollen and throbbing cock, and he almost wishes he could call her into his room and show her the effect she has on him. 

He pictures her long dazzling blue tresses fanned out across the pillows at the head of the bed, the way her tanned complexion would be complimented so beautifully by the violet silk sheets beneath her, her legs spread wide for him, like an offering. The way he’d devour her and drink her in as if she were the richest wine or the sweetest peach in all of Faerun. The way his name would sound cried from her lips in pure ecstasy. 

The thought alone was enough to bring him closer to the edge— hells, he was sure he’d been on the brink of orgasm for longer than he would like to admit. He was almost certain the second he began to pump himself into his fist that he’d be done for. 

He started slowly, hoping to savor it for at least a few minutes and give himself more time to indulge in his fantasies. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed with desire. He had to bite down onto his fingers to try to keep himself quiet on the off chance that she would overhear him. 

Despite his efforts, he grunted softly as his pace quickened, now pumping himself with a steady rhythm that felt right— that if he closed his eyes, he could picture her on top of him, riding him like her life depended on it. 

That didn’t last long, as within a minute he was spilling onto his own chest and coming completely undone, chanting her name in breathy whispers over and over as if it were a prayer. 

He grips himself as he rides out the aftershocks until the sensation was entirely too much and he had to let go, his entire body going limp and exhaustion finally presenting itself to him and each one of the muscles he’d just expended in that process. He looks down wearily at the mess he’d made of himself, and throws his head back into the pillows. 

He wonders if her pillows smell of lavender. He imagines that they do. 

⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊ ⋆₊⋄✧⋄₊⋆

next chapter ❥ masterlist

[anomanlyarchives]

The Contract

A man was angrily stomping his heavy feet alongside the swimming pool, his undersized flip-flops regularly making a funny noise which somehow mitigated his intimidating appearance. He was, to say the least, huge. His body was swelling with muscles - strong, veiny arms, sculpted legs, and a couple of solid pecs protruding over a bulging musclegut. His face was not overly mature, but his big, although tidy, beard did make him look some sort of modern-day, fierce viking. However, just like his flip-flops, the tight briefs he was wearing did not seem to fit his frame entirely, largely exposing and highlighting his muscles.

As you may imagine, such a muscle beast did not go unnoticed. Everyone who was chilling by the pool couldn't help but stare at him, either attracted by him, jealous of him or simply despising his evident thirst for attention. What they didn't know, however, was that he was all but happy for all the stares he was receiving. Despite his striking appearance, he was trying so hard to ignore every single person who was looking at him, progressively walking faster.

The muscle beast finally stopped, menacingly towering over a group of young men around their early twenties. His eyes were locked on who seemed to be the boss of the little group, who had followed the big man's movements with a grin depicted on his face the entire time.

"What's with that look, sir? Something's wrong?", the young one asked. His group was giggling and whispering, not trying too hard to hide their comments about how ridiculous the man looked in his undersized swimming gear.

"We need to talk."

More giggling and whispering. The young boss defiantly looked at him for a few seconds before getting up with a sigh. "I'll be right back", he announced.

The man and the lad headed towards a quiet place, not so far from the pool. The big man looked around to make sure nobody could hear them. He was looking at the young one with a furious expression. "Seriously, man? I was with my family when I started changing! It's not fair!"

The younger one didn't seem to mind the scolding that much. Actually, even though the huge man was towering over him with a ferocious attitude, he didn't even seem to be bothered in the slightest. "Not fair? You signed a contract, kid". As he said so, a sheet of paper materialised in his hand.

"I know! But I'm fed up with your old body and your life. You said you'd only take my body for a couple hours at most, and you'd make sure I didn't need it to-"

"I don't remember saying that."

"You're a liar, you did!", the big man whined back, his deep, manly voice distorted into an unfitting lament.

The lad smirked and quickly read what was written on the sheet. "Even if I did, what's important is what's written on the contract you signed. And there's no mention about any kind of limitation for the swap. Ergo, I can take your body whenever I want. I couldn't give a fuck if your little family sees you transforming into a beast of a man."

The older man's face turned red in anger. "That's not what you said! You little-" he violently grabbed his former body, just to be repelled by a burning sensation.

A glimpse of malice flashed in the wizard's eyes, and his now young, attractive smile cracked. "Don't you dare to touch me, kid. I make the rules, and I can change them whenever I want." He was getting dangerously close to the stud, pushing him back towards the wall. They were facing one another, and their noses were mere inches apart. It was quite a paradoxical situation, as the much smaller, apparently armless kid was fiercely towering over that brawny beast of a man. "I could also decide to keep your body forever, and you could do nothing to stop me. Got it?"

The man gulped, and the young one seemed to enjoy it, as an amused smirk came back to his face. "Your friends seem to enjoy my personality more, too. They're wondering why you got so funny all of a sudden, you know? Besides", he ran his hand over the man's bulging abs, "everyone would like to be in your shoes right now. I know, maybe a little... too much. But, for a gay fellow like you, such a body is a blessing."

"H-how do you...", The stud stuttered.

"I'm not an idiot, kid. I could see it from the way you looked at me". The young guy suddenly grabbed the man's crotch. In response, the hunk startled, trying to hide his pleasure. It was no use: his dick was already fattening up, and his tight briefs left nothing to imagination.

"Bu-but... "

"No buts, kid", the wizard whispered in a seducing tone. "I know being older is boring and sucks, but... try to make good use of it, as long as you're in that enviable body. Look at you. You're a sexy, strong daddy. You can do whatever you want. You're free now, and with a spectacular body." The older man gulped as the wizard let him free and stepped back. "Now, go."

The muscular giant moved, heading back to the swimming pool. Before disappearing, he stopped and turned back towards his former body. "When will I have my body back?"

The wizard shrugged. "Erm... I'll need it until tonight, at least. And maybe tomorrow, too. I don't know if the guys are planning something for the next few days. Don't worry though, I'll give it back to you as your holiday ends."

The bulky stud hesitated for a few seconds. He then grunted and clumsily moved on, his undersized briefs hardly hiding his thick boner, and his large feet crushing his unfitting flip-flops.

"...if I feel like it", the wizard added in a whisper, a wide sneer on his face.

[dark-and-kawaii]

will we see more Kieran? The fic with Rolan has me wanting more

⟡˙⋆ Take ⋆˙⟡

Summary: Kieran fucks that tight pretty throat of yours in Lorroakan’s tower while the wizard is away. The bastard waits for Rolan to show his precious face only so he can convince the tiefling to take you for himself.

♡ Pairings: Rolan x F!Ta/Reader x Kieran

♡ Content: NSFW - Deep Throat - Pet Names - Kieran Teases and Touches Rolan - Penis is Vag

♡ Notes: I’m so happy to see Kieren get so much love and I’m so happy you and others gave that story a chance, seriously thank you xoxo Major thanks and love to @reverieblondie for being the reason Kieran & Rolan were paired and had a story <333

“Such a good fucking girl, gonna take all my cum down that tight little throat of yours, yeah?” Kieran had his fingers wrapped in your hair, holding you in place as he used your mouth, fucking your face in the middle of Lorroakan’s tower.

He threw his head back as globs of hot cum hit the back of your tongue and throat, his grip on your hair tightening, his claws digging into your scalp, his body trembling, “So good at taking cock, sweetheart, fuck.” He panted, “Swallow, c’mon now, you don’t want to make a mess on the Wizard’s floor, do you?”

You tried to shake your head but the movement made his cock slide further down your gullet, making you choke. His hot, thick liquid traveled down your throat, burning your throat as it went, the salty taste heavy on your tongue. He held you in place still, despite his cock slowly going limp, Kieran looked down at you, with a smug, self-satisfied look as his cum trickled down your chin and onto the floor.

All you wanted to do today was visit your sweet Rolan, you didn’t expect to find Kieran sitting on the throne of books waiting for you… The tower empty cept for him…

“Looks like you have a mess to clean up, kitten, get to it.” He slipped from between your lips and you fell to the floor, gasping for air, his fingers still tangled in your hair, forcing your gaze on the cum stained floor, “The faster you finish, the faster I can be back inside you-“

“Kieran!! Damn it all! What are you doing?!”

You froze, and You swore you could feel your heart drop at the sound of Rolan’s voice… He returned, and he returned only to find you in this position… Your stomach churned…

“Awh~ Come now, don’t be mad, we were just having a little fun~ It doesn’t help that your sweet little thing has such a pretty, tight throat-“

“Out. Now. Get out of Lorroakan’s tower. NOW! Before he returns- And bloody stay away from-“

Kieran flipped you on your back with his foot, kicking you gently over so Rolan could soak in the dried tears your face, your makeup running, your lips swollen, red and wet, his cum painting the corner of your lips.

Rolan stopped, staring down at you… You looked so inviting- no. This was wrong, he should be angry-

Your eyes were full of desire, begging him to take you right there, to punish you for being a slut, for giving Kieran pleasure. You needed him to punish you, to take what he owned.

Kieran slowly strode over to Rolan, his fingers tracing over the bruise on his jaw, “Tell me dear Rolan, why do you think I chose here of all places to fuck her tight little throat? Hmm?” His fingers glided, trailing a path and dancing around another bruise that marked Rolan’s cheek, “Lorroakan did this to you, didn’t he?”

Rolan flinched away from Kieran, turning his face from him, his eyes still trained on your form on the ground.

Kieran chuckled, leaning into Rolan, whispering into his ear, his hand falling on Rolan shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, before trailing down his side, his claws scraping his hip, his thumb dipping under the hem of his pants, his pinky finger slipping under his shirt.

Rolan tensed, his tail lashing trying to push the bastard away from him.

“Imagine Lorroakan walking in on you, fucking her, your cum dripping down her thighs, imagine the look on his face- the anger-. Her womb unprotected, fucking her raw in his beloved study.” Kieran groaned, his thumb tracing circles on Rolan lower stomach.

Rolan shivered, his eyes fluttering, his lips parting slightly, his cock twitching at the thought, the anger he had dissipating quickly.

“The man has a thing for her, no?”

Rolan nodded hesitantly.

Kieran leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “So then-“ he shoved Rolan forward, the tiefling stumbling, catching himself before he could fall onto you, “show the man who she belongs too- take her here, on his precious books- in the room where he slapped you across the face. Take her, and show him what a pathetic wretch he is.”

And so he did.

Rolan took what belonged to him. He fucked you rough, hard, and fast- his cock buried deep within your pussy, his hips meeting yours in quick, brutal thrusts. You could feel his hands tighten around yours as he held them above your head, his eyes glaring into yours, watching as your face twisted and contorted in pleasure. His name rolled off your lips in broken moans, your pussy gripping him, your walls hugging him tightly, fluttering around him…

Rolan’s eyes left yours and fell to Lorroakan’s books beneath you, the ones you were fucking on top of, the ones you were defiling. He grinned, a cruel grin just before his eyes met with Lorroakan’s, the blasted wizard who was currently on his knees. His redfish orange locks wrapped around Kieran’s hand, keep hm still. And each time Lorroakan struggled, Kieran would give a tug on his hair, making him hiss and groan, “tut tut, no moving pet. Are you not enjoying the show?”

Kieran was willing to take pity on Rolan just this once, the tiefling seemed so tired and stressed these days. He deserved to let loose, to have one win under his belt. Besides, Rolan was become less fun to toy with since Lorroakan entered the picture. So Kieran was willing to help, and if his assistance included fucking with this prick Lorroakan who damaged one of his toys, well, that was just a plus.

You were perfect in Rolan’s eyes. It didn’t matter if Kieran was watching, didn’t matter if Kieran had a taste of you first, all that mattered was Lorroakan was watching him fill your eyes womb with his fiendish seed… All that mattered was that you belonged to him, and he was yours.

[moonlightspencie]

Two Headlights

Chapter 1 of ‘treacherous’

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

You sighed, screwing the last leg of the coffee table on before setting it upright in front of your couch. Your new flat wasn’t anything special, but it felt like a whole new start. And, most importantly, it was yours.

After years of childhood lived with your parents or spent at Hogwarts, and then living with your grandparents in America for months after you’d graduated, it was a nice change of place to have somewhere that was entirely your own. Your parents had helped you move in for the most part the day prior, but you’d been working on some of the finishing touches yourself since you’d woken up that morning. It was nice to be alone, listening to music and setting everything just how you liked it. Your cat, Dumpling, was also quite pleased with the new space. He made himself at home immediately, especially once you set up his favorite cat tower.

You stood up from the ground, looking over everything you’d done with a proud smile. It was coming into place nicely, you thought.

You were also joyful for another reason: you’d promised yourself that as soon as you were finished with the living room you’d finally go and see what Fred and George Weasley were up to in their new store. You’d been in the year ahead of them, but they were some of your closest friends in school.

The past few years had been a mess, to say the least, but leave it to them to open a joke store. A successful one at that, from what you’d heard.

Nobody but your parents knew you were back, and you were looking forward to seeing friends you hadn’t seen in almost a year. You took a drink of water in your kitchen, pulled on your shoes and jacket, and set off for town after a brief goodbye to Dumpling.

You’d apparated into a nearby alley, not needing to walk far before it came into view: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. You chuckled to yourself at the huge red-headed statue coming out of the top of the store.

Walking in was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. Business was clearly booming in the space, and your attention was drawn every which way by various items. You started looking at a wall filled with chocolates that promised less-than-exciting results if you ate them. It reminded you of the products they’d bring to school when you were all there. Nosebleed nougat and puking pastilles were never something you were terribly interested in trying, but from the looks of the picked-over area, they were quite popular.

You startled at the sound of your name being called out in stereo. You whipped around, a smile on your lips as soon as you saw the two familiar faces grinning back at you.

“Hey,” you greeted simply.

Fred was the first to step forward, crushing you in a hug until you were sure you’d been nearly squeezed to death.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, just barely letting you go.

“Heard you two opened a shop. Did you think I’d miss out on this?”

George pushed his brother away, wrapping his arms around you in a much less bone-crushing way.

“Thought you moved to America,” he mumbled, not yet letting go.

“Yeah, went ahead and ditched us as soon as we were out of school,” Fred added in.

You detached yourself from the second twin, taking a step back.

“Well, I’m back,” you stated with a shrug and a small smile.

“For how long?” George asked.

“The foreseeable future,” you stated. “I really only went to stay with my grandparents, but they’re doing well. I think I can get by with vacations whenever possible rather than staying there.”

“You’re staying?” Fred asked with wide eyes.

“I’m staying.”

“Wicked,” they said in unison, matching smiles on their faces.

You laughed, about to ask how business had been since they’d opened, when another familiar voice cut in.

“Fred, George, if you sell Ron one more—” she started, though she paused soon thereafter. “Is that who I think it is?”

You smiled when she recognized you. It had been quite a while since you’d last seen Mrs. Weasley, but she had always been a favorite of both yours and your parents. She was practically a second mother to you whenever your parents were gone. It was just her nature, you supposed, but she always went the extra mile when it came to being kind and nurturing. She wrapped you in a hug not dissimilar to Fred's; if the red hair didn’t tip you off to the family resemblance, the surprising strength certainly would have.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t seen you in ages,” she gushed.

“Ah, Mrs. Weasley,” you said back, arms wrapped around her nearly as tight. “I know, I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back now! I was just telling Fred and George that I’m going to be staying around again.”

She pulled away, though she kept her hands on your arms. “What have I told you? You call me Molly, love. Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you. We’ve missed you.”

“Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’ve missed you all too. It’s been far too long.”

Just as she was about to reply, she heard a crash behind her, noticing that the boys were showing off some destructive gadget to a girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“You boys,” she started scolding, then shook it off, turning back to you. “They get older, but they never grow up.”

You laughed. “That’s why this is the perfect place for them, isn’t it?”

She smiled softly, shaking her head as she watched her boys now crowding a young boy looking at some contraption.

“Yes. It is.”

You looked after her in the direction of the twins, your own smile forming as they hammed up the product, making the boy laugh at their silly jokes. If anything, they sure knew how to bring a sense of joy into even the worst situations. They always did.

“Well,” you started, letting out a breath. “I should really be off. I’ve got to feed my cat before she starts going crazy. I only dropped by to say hello since I’ve gotten all settled in my new flat.”

Molly turned back to you with wide eyes and a hand on your arm to stop you from getting away so quickly.

“Oh, dear, before you go,” she said, giving another smile to you as she spoke. “We’re having dinner at the burrow tonight. I would love if you could drop by. I’m sure Fred and George would love to have you, Ron will be around, and Harry and Hermoine will be coming along as well.”

You lit up a little. “Oh! I would love to. I haven’t spoken to them since I left for the States.”

“Then it’s settled. You just come by any time tonight. I’ll be serving dinner at six, but we would love to see you before then,” she nodded along as she spoke. “Any time, dear.”

“Wonderful,” you grinned. “I’ll see you in a few hours, after I feed my cat and change out of these clothes.”

She pulled you in for a brief hug, wishing you well before you left the shop. You smiled to yourself on the way out, excited to see everyone again and even more excited for Molly’s cooking. She made the best desserts, especially.

You arrived home to a meowing cat, as expected. You couldn’t leave for more than ten minutes without him getting all riled up.

“Dumpy, you’re insufferable. You know that?” You told him, receiving a loud meow in response.

You shook your head, fixing him some dinner as he rubbed up against your legs. You scratched his chin, then set down his bowl of food next to his water dish.

“You ought to be jealous,” you began, watching him eat. “You’ll be stuck here eating this slop, meanwhile, I get the treat of eating with the Weasleys.”

He ignored you with his little head buried in the food dish, as per usual, and you walked off toward your bedroom with a shake of your head. A warm shower was altogether too tempting to deny, so you took a quick one before getting ready for dinner. You changed into a clean pair of pants and a comfy sweater, spritzing on a little perfume for good measure. You certainly didn’t need to impress anyone at the burrow, but it still felt nice to get ready to see anyone besides your own family for the first time in a while.

You tugged on your favorite boots at the door, double checking that Dumpling had plenty of water, and then you were off once again.

You knocked on the front door, waiting with baited breath to see everyone. A cheery, rosy-cheeked Mr. Weasley smiled brightly as he opened the door.

“There she is,” he said, opening his arms.

“Mr. Weasley,” you greeted warmly, stepping into his embrace.

His hug was brief and as fatherly as ever. He ushered you inside immediately, helping you out of your jacket.

“Molly has been going on about your arrival since she came back home,” he said with a laugh. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Great to see you, too. How’s work been?”

“Oh, just fantastic,” he said, nodding along. “You know, I still haven’t quite been able to wrap my head around the idea of zip ties.”

“Well, it’s really just a tool used to fasten things,” you said, looking around the space. Nothing had changed, not even a smidge.

“Hmm,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I’m still curious—”

“Arthur, leave the poor girl alone,” Molly said, stepping into view. “Hello, dear. I’m so glad you could come by.”

“As am I. Thank you again for the invite,” you said, giving her a warm smile as she ushered you towards the living room.

“You know I love to have you,” she said, waving you off. “Plus, we have a bit of a full house tonight. A few extra guests have decided to come along.”

“Oh?” you questioned, though you went without an answer as Fred and George approached.

“Left us in the dust again,” Fred started.

“At our own store…” George continued.

“And now, you show up at our home.”

“It’s a shame, really.”

“Terrible shame.”

You quirked a brow, giving them a mockingly disapproving stare. “If you want me to leave..."

“No!” they exclaimed together.

“Come on,” Fred said, slinging an arm around your shoulder to usher you ahead.

“You know we love to see you,” George said with a smile from your other side. “Even when you’ve snuck off in the middle of a visit.”

“You two are just as delightfully ridiculous as always,” you said with a sigh.

“You hear that, George?”

“I did. She thinks we’re delightful,” George responded to his brother, nudging your shoulder.

“Funny, you seem to have forgotten the ‘ridiculous’ I threw in right afterwards,” you replied with a laugh.

“Didn’t forget,” Fred began.

George picked up where he left off, “Just didn’t care for it.”

You laughed again, glad to be back in their company, despite yourself. Though, once they got you to the couch and tried pulling you down to sit between them, you finally got a good look at everyone else. A few of them broke away from their conversations to recognize you right back.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, popping up from his spot on the floor and launching himself at you. “When did you get back?”

“Just a few days ago,” you said, breaking away to accept another hug from Hermione.

“We had no clue,” she said, smiling widely at you.

“Molly invited me this afternoon,” you explained. “She convinced me by telling me you lot would be here.”

Harry smiled, opening his mouth to say something else, when Ron interrupted with a call of your name and yet another hug.

“What are you doing back?” he asked you, prompting you to explain your situation once again.

They all listened intently as you told them all about your time in the States and what you’d been up to since deciding to move back home. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that they stepped back to allow you a smidge of space again.

“Darling,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Sirius,” you responded before turning around.

He smiled softly at you, pulling you into his chest. You rocked along with him as he took you, smiling when he pulled away briefly.

“What happened to you?” he asked, a joking tone in his voice. “Last I saw you were just a girl, walking around Hogwarts and causing trouble. When did you turn into a beautiful young woman?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Always the charmer. It's only been…”

“Well over a year, now,” he said, raising a brow. “Letters don’t count.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “How else will you tell me about all your adventures?”

He chuckled, tugging you into his side, looking at the others.

To be fair, it had been quite a long time since you’d seen him. After his escape from Azkaban and the resulting relationship he’d formed with Harry, you’d also become somewhat close after your parents had taken him in for a while. They weren’t officially part of the Order, but Dumbledore trusted them well enough to keep Sirius hidden under the radar when he needed someplace to lay low.

It had been over a year since he was around often, and almost as long since you’d casually seen him.

“My point is that letters aren’t enough, sunshine,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I hear from Molly that you’re back to stay?”

You nodded. “I am.”

“Then we’ll have to see one another more, yes?”

“Absolutely,” you reply with a smile, squeezing his side a little. “So, I am terribly curious…”

“Oh?”

“Molly said there’d be a full house tonight. Obviously, you’ll be my favorite surprise guest…”

“Obviously,” he smirked.

“But,” you continued, a smile on your face, “who else is coming around?”

“Well, I think the eldest Weasley boys will be coming home tonight. At least Bill,” he starts. “You’ve already seen Harry and Hermione, so I think the only one left will be Remus.”

You stood up a little straighter. “Professor Lupin?”

He quirked a brow. “Professor Lupin? Remind me, how long has it been since you’ve had him as a professor?"

You roll your eyes. “That’s the name I came to know him by, you can’t blame me for it.”

He hummed, tightening the arm around you a little. “At any rate, I believe Professor Lupin will be our last guest.”

“Well, alright,” you nodded. “Seems like a good group.”

“All the better for you being here with us, darling.”

You pulled him along with you as you finally took your place on the couch, scooting Fred to the side with your hip to make room for Sirius. Fred, of course, playfully protested but ultimately gave in. You nudged Sirius’ shoulder as he watched his favorite young trio talking animatedly with one another. He looked at you with raised brows.

“How have you been?”

He sighed softly. “Just fine. We’ve been spending a lot of time with the Order.”

You hummed. “Right. How has that been?”

“Well enough, but knowing what is to come has started putting many of the members a bit on edge,” he said quietly. “Harry has started taking an interest. He wants to be more involved, and I agree that he should be, but…”

“He’s still a kid.”

Sirius nodded. “He’s a strong kid, but I know that the others aren’t very keen on his involvement.”

“I understand why. They don’t want to put him in harm’s way.”

“He’s already in harm’s way simply by existing,” Sirius retorted. “I want him to be safe as much as anyone else, but we can’t leave him out of something when he’s really been involved his entire life.”

You nodded wordlessly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I wish things could be easier.”

He sighed. “So do I. But it will all work out in the end, won’t it?”

You lifted your head, giving him a sure smile and a brief nod.

“Absolutely.”

He was quiet for a moment, then perked up again, tossing his arm around your shoulders.

“Have you been to Grimmauld Place since we started operating from there?”

“Where you grew up?”

He nodded.

“I don’t think I have, no,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’ll have to invite you soon. Being in the States didn’t change your tastes, did it? You still like your lavender earl grey?”

You snorted. “I wasn’t even there for a year, Sirius.”

“You never know,” he smirked.

At that point, you heard the door opening and closing and Molly emphatically greeting someone. Curious as to whether it was Bill or Lupin, you turned your head over your shoulder and waited.

Though, as soon as he walked into your field of vision, talking with Arthur, you sat up a little straighter.

Professor Lupin had been a favorite when you were still in school. He was always quite kind, a bit funny, and a phenomenal professor. But you’d always seen him as a professor, never as a man, regardless of Sirius’ stories about their younger days. Now, however, you became acutely aware that you weren’t looking at Professor Lupin. You were looking at Remus. Remus, who is still kind and funny and likely as caring as ever, but who is also shockingly handsome.

You didn’t realize you’d been staring until you felt a poke at your side, turning to Sirius, who stared back at you with a raised brow and the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“What?”

He snorted. “I should be asking you that question... ‘What?’ she says.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Right,” he replied, not convinced. Then, his smirk only grew as he waved at his dear friend. “Remus!”

“Sirius,” he greeted with a smile, politely excusing himself from the conversation with Mr. Weasley.

Sirius stood, hugging Remus as he drew nearer. You watched their interaction with a small smile, noticing how they both looked entirely comfortable together. It was nice to see them look so at peace.

“Of course,” Sirius began, “you remember my sunshine girl.”

Both men turned to you, though you snorted at Sirius’ title for you. Remus greeted you with a soft call of your name. You smiled, though you tried to reign it in as you were acutely aware of how Sirius was watching you now. You were already overdue for some teasing, no use in making it worse.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a while,” you said, leaning over the back of the couch.

“It has. Though I’ve heard a lot about you from Sirius. You know, he really enjoys those letters you send.”

“Aww,” you cooed, laughing. Sirius looked on, trying to put on his unamused face. “You tell all your friends about my letters, Siri?”

“Merely to make fun of you, don’t take it to heart,” he said, a barely contained smile on his face.

“To be fair,” you started, looking back to Remus, “I’ve also heard quite a lot about you from Sirius as well. Though for some, it has been quite hard to believe, I must admit.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Remus asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, the differences between ‘Professor Lupin’ and Siri’s beloved ‘Mooney’ are pretty significant.”

He smiled softly, nodding his head slowly in response. “I see. So, you know of all my sins, now.”

“I didn’t tell her the worst of it,” Sirius responded. “Only the times you embarrassed yourself.”

“And I’m not sure how much to trust out of hismouth, so who’s to say I even believe what I’ve been told?" you added.

“If you knew Remus better, you wouldn’t doubt the things I’ve told you for a second,” Sirius said, leaning next to where I was on the couch. “I think you would have liked him back then.”

Remus laughed quietly. “Right. I’m afraid I might be too boring to stand a chance, now.”

“Oh, so you’d like a chance?” Sirius teased.

Remus’ smile faded slowly, his cheeks tinting pink when he realized his mistake. You huffed out a laugh, feeling a little shy yourself after that particular line.

“Quit teasing,” you said, gently slapping Sirius’ arm. “He just got here.”

“He’s been dealing with me for years, he should’ve known to be prepared,” Sirius said, then leaned in to speak only to you. “And don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at him. I won’t say anything now, but be ready to have a storm come later.”

“I’m not coming over for tea.”

He scoffed, hand over his chest in mock offense. You shook your head, then looked back at Remus.

“How on earth have you dealt with him for as long as you have?”

He sighed, clearly a bit grateful for a slight change in topic, though staring daggers at Sirius.

“Unfortunately, the good of being around him usually outweighs the bad. Can’t lose that, now.”

You laughed. “Usually?”

“I’m hurt, Mooney,” Sirius said, the smile on his face saying something else.

“Well, how have you been?” Remus asked, turning his attention to you as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you just here for a visit?”

“No, I’m back for good now. I wanted to be back home, so I just started renting a flat in London.”

“That’s wonderful. How is it so far?”

“It’s only been a couple of days, but I love it,” you smiled. “It’s nice to have someplace that’s completely my own. I’ve also started considering what I’ll do for a job now that I’m back, but I just don’t quite know yet.”

“How are you affording your flat, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Of course not." You waved him off. “My grandparents on my father’s side of the family passed away a few years ago. I never knew them very well, but they left me an inheritance. It should help me get by for the next year or so."

“I see. Have you considered becoming a teacher? You were always a phenomenal student and a tutor, if I remember correctly."

You nodded. “Yes, I did some tutoring. I have considered teaching, but I probably need some more experience before they’ll accept me. I have always loved herbology, though, so I’m hoping I might find something in that field.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Whatever you choose, I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. Always have been.”

You felt a heat in your cheeks. “Thank you. I can only hope others will hold the same opinion.”

Sirius cleared his throat at that, and you glanced up, catching his eye. He still wore that stupid smirk.

“I’d love to stick around, but I think I’ll go see if Arthur needs any help with anything.”

“Oh, I should probably see—” you started, though you were quickly cut off.

“No, no,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Stay and catch up. You two seem to be having a good conversation, yeah?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing the game he was playing. He’d do just about anything to get a reaction. He patted the couch next to you as he stood straight.

“Take a seat, Remus. She doesn’t bite,” he said, ushering his friend towards the couch seat he’d previously vacated. “Hard.”

You opened your mouth to snark back at him, but fell short as he scurried away. Remus slowly lowered himself into the seat as you turned back around.

“Sorry about him,” he said quietly.

“I’m used to it by now. I think one of his greatest joys in life is messing with people he claims to love.”

He laughed at that. “You do know him well, don’t you?”

“I do,” you confirmed. “Practically lived with him for a few months a while back, you know?”

“I know,” he nodded. “He really does speak highly of your family. Especially about you.”

“He better. I’m a delight, and he knows it.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling as he looked at you. You had to remind yourself not to stare too long.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, still smiling. “You were always one of my favorites to teach, which comes as a bit of a surprise in hindsight.”

“How so?”

“You’re friends with Sirius, and Fred and George. How were you not a terrible troublemaker?”

I snorted a laugh. “I could ask you the same thing, ‘marauder’. You don’t seem like the type of person who would be relatively mild-mannered as you were as a professor.”

“Time changes things.”

You hummed. “I suppose. There has to be some of that wild streak left in you, though. I’m sure of it.”

He adjusted in his seat, facing you a little more to give you his full attention. He narrowed his eyes slightly, though it couldn’t hide the amused sparkle in them.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. Just taking a guess,” you said with a self-satisfied smirk. "But the fact that you still hang around Siri, and he certainly has a… robustpersonality, tells me that you must be more than a kindly professor.”

“You’re very wise.”

“Comes with age, I guess,” I joked, stretching my legs.

“Age,” he repeated. “What do you know about aging?”

“I’m twenty-three years old, I’ve practically got one foot in the grave already.”

He groaned. “If you’re old, then I ought to be dust by now.”

You laughed. “Oh, come now. You’re not so old.”

“You just said you had one foot in the grave at twenty-three,” he said, his voice raising in a way you’d never heard from him. It made you laugh again.

“Maybe I was exaggerating a bit.”

“Maybe,” he nodded along.

You let a silence fall over you for a few minutes as you observed the others around you. Everyone seemed so happy despite the heavy circumstances everyone was living under. It was nice to see. You let your eyes drift to Fred and George, who spoke with Harry about some silly product they were developing. Then, you saw Ron and Hermione, still pretending they weren’t interested in one another despite the ever-obvious signs of young love. Finally, you settled your gaze back on Remus. He was looking over his shoulder at some of the photos laid out around the room. You took a moment to really study him. The scars on his face that somehow only made him look more handsome, his hands, the way he relaxed into the cushions so casually, the way he looked at you—oh.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” You drifted off, feeling embarrassed at getting caught staring. “Just haven’t seen you in a long time. You look a little different, you know?”

“I do?”

“You do,” you nodded.

“Tell me,” he said with a brief nod. “What’s so different?”

You shrugged. “Well, the way you carry yourself is a bit different. You’re more… relaxed, I suppose. You look less worn-down and more comfortable. Your hair is also different. It’s a bit longer now. Obviously, your clothes are different from how I’m used to seeing you, but they look nice.”

He quirked a brow, hiding a smile. “I see. I suppose I have changed some, haven’t I? Though, so have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

You paused a moment, then, “Well, if I told you what I noticed, I think it’s only fair that you do the same for me. I’m curious.”

“Well, you’ve obviously moved up in life. You’re a full-fledged adult now, living on your own. You seem more confident than you did a few years ago. At minimum, you’re speaking your mind more than you did back then,” he said with a smile. “Physically, you’ve changed as well. Your face has changed a little, though I can’t quite place how. I just know that it has. You carry yourself in a way that feels more... Like you.”

You smiled to yourself a little at that. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

“Are you two all done with your flirting, now?” Sirius’ voice came from behind you.

You let out a sigh. “If you think this is flirting, I feel sorry for the women you talk to.”

Remus laughed, his eyes widening at the comment. Sirius merely looked shocked, an amused look on his face.

“Sassy,” he said, still a little bewildered.

“You should expect it at this point.”

He snorted, looking to Remus. “And you’re not going to say anything?”

“She seems to have covered it quite well,” Remus responded, nodding towards you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice behind you call, and turned to see Fred. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What about?”

“I’ve… I’m thinking about a birthday gift for Angelina. Do you think you could help me?”

You smiled, nodding, then turned to the other two you’d been talking to.

“If you two will excuse me, I have some productivethings to do now.”

“Ouch,” Sirius said, still grinning. “We’ll see you soon. Watch your back, because I do plan on getting you back for all that snark of yours.”

“I’d like to see you try, Siri.”

He hummed, moving to take your spot on the couch as you walked off with Fred to discuss his ideas away from prying ears. You conversed about it for a while before you’d ultimately convinced him to get her the nice necklace he’d been considering. He let out a sigh of relief after finally voicing that he knew what he was going to do, thanking you profusely.

You smiled to yourself, always finding it so strange and sweet any time either of the twins were entirely unsure of themselves. They usually had a grip on who they were, but watching Fred have a small crisis over making the right decision for his girlfriend was oddly heartwarming.

You hadn’t realized how much had really changed in the time you were away from everyone, but being around all of them at once certainly highlighted it. It was odd. But nice. Like remodeling the kitchen of a childhood home. It’s still home and still what you knew best, but things were new and exciting to discover. Mom got a new rolling pin for the old family cookie recipe, and you were cutting carrots on a new counter as you looked out the window at the tree you’d climbed as a child. You figured you could get used to it all easily.

Even going back into the living room and seeing Harry and his dear friends talking showed it. They were still young and still silly, but they were noticeably older and more mature than they’d been even two years ago. Your heart felt entirely full.

Before long, your stomach was even more full. Molly had called everyone to sit for dinner, and she went above and beyond for the meal. You were certain you’d explode if she put another tart on your plate for dessert, and had to adamantly tell her so when she tried for the third time. She laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, moving on to do the same to Ginny and George, who shared the same sentiment. Ron, of course, took another.

“Do you think you’ll be around more often, now?” Hermione asked from next to you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I will be. I’ll have to invite you over to my flat sometime. Maybe our cats can have a play date.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

You sat another half an hour or so before everyone started to stir from their places. You stood from your seat, saying goodbyes to everyone with the note that you probably needed to get back home to your cat before he started to throw a fit.

“He can’t stay alone for a few hours?” Ron asked.

“He’s still adjusting to his new home. Things should be back to normal for him in a week or so, I’m sure,” you said, giving a slight shrug.

"But you’ll come visit me real soon anyway, won’t you?” Sirius asked, nudging your side with his elbow.

“You bet,” you said with a laugh. “Owl me about it, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed his response, pulling you into one more hug before you started away from the group.

“Thank you again, Molly,” you stated, a hand on her shoulder. “It was delightful, as always.”

“I’m so glad you could come, love,” she said, holding your hand with a warm smile. “I hope I’ll get to see you again soon.”

“As do I. We’ll have to make plans soon.”

“We will,” she nodded. “You let me know if you need anything at all, okay?”

“I will.”

You said your goodbyes, then started towards the door, almost making it before one more person stepped in your way.

“It was nice to see you again,” Remus said, giving a soft smile.

“Nice to see you, too. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other, what with Sirius being so sappy and wanting to hang around me more, now,” you noted with a snort.

“Right,” he nodded. “Well, I hope we do. You’re great company, you know?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, then perked up. “Oh! You said you’re interested in herbology, correct?”

You tilted your head. “I am.”

“I might have a job opportunity for you, if you’d like me to pass on a good word for you. An old friend named Nemora is a great herbologist. She works with all sorts of plants, but really has an interest in the health-related aspects of herbology,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wow,” you said, delighted. “Yes! I mean, I would love if you could talk to her for me. That sounds incredible.”

“I can’t make any promises it will go anywhere, but I can have her contact you if so.”

“That’s incredible. Thank you so much,” you smiled brightly.

He nodded. “Well, it’s been a pleasure. I hope to see you again soon.”

You said your goodbyes once more, then finally headed out the door and back to your flat. You’d expected a good time, but for your first week back home, you decided it couldn’t have gone better.

Chapter 2 ->

[xlucy-in-the-skyx]

Incredible work by @dafna-winchester! It's so exciting to see this moment from Chapter 12 of my Baldur's Gate 3 fic brought to life. So totally over the moon with how it came out. Read the scene depicted here below, or check out Bloodletting on Ao3!!!

“What are you doing?” She asks, taking a step back. He moves with her and puts his other hand on top of hers. Astarion doesn’t want her to put any distance between them. “Apologizing . . .” Astarion mutters and tilts his head towards hers. He can see the moment she decides to try and slap him again, her jaw tensing and her lips pulling back in a snarl. Astarion catches her wrist before Siobhan’s hand makes contact. He pushes her back against the cavern wall. “Get off of me.” Her eyes are a little wild with fear as she struggles against him. Astarion resents her for it.  “Do not hit me again.” Astarion tightens his grip on her just to prove that he can. She thrashes underneath his weight, yanking this way and that to try and escape. He pushes his body against hers and pins her hands to the stone. “Siobhan . . .” he warns.  She stills. Astarion can feel her heart thundering in her chest. “You just tried to kiss me.” Her voice is shaky. "Did I?” Astarion hums. “What about any of this makes you think that I want to—that this would be the way to—” Astarion cuts her off before she can get too far down that line of thinking. He doesn’t need another mark against him, perceived or otherwise.  “Are you really unhappy with me just because I teased you about Gale and at the tower?” Astarion asks. “Because if you are, striking me hardly seems fair.”  “I— no, it’s not just that.” The statement ends with an exasperated whine. “All right, what then?” Siobhan shakes her head helplessly, blinking away more tears, and shrugs, struggling to compose herself.  “You’re furious with me, and you don’t know why?” Astarion frowns. She shrugs again, refusing to meet his gaze. Astarion sighs, rests his forehead against hers, and closes his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. “I don’t know what you want from me.” She turns her head away, but Astarion doesn’t shift to accommodate her, his forehead coming to rest on her temple instead. She’s unwittingly put her throat, the unblemished side,  on display with the move. Astarion swallows. He feels hungry. He knows he shouldn’t. Astarion had more than his fill last night. Nevertheless, he aches with that familiar emptiness. The vein in her throat jumps invitingly under her skin. It would be so easy to just lean forward  and-- “Astarion.” Gale’s voice is stern, clipped. Siobhan stiffens against him, wrists flexing beneath his palms. Astarion’s lips curl up in a sneer, still a breath away from her throat, but his voice is cheery. “Gale! My, my. You certainly know when to show up where you’re least wanted,” Astarion drawls. “I’ll only ask you once. Step away. Now. I don't think Siobhan wishes to remain in your company.” The air crackles with electricity, and Astarion rips his eyes away from her throat to look at the wizard in his periphery. His eyes are flashing blue, lighting arcing between his fingers, his hands rigid at his sides.  “Is that so? Well, lucky for us, we don’t have to guess, do we?” Astarion fixes him with a cold smile. Gale’s nostrils flare, lighting sparking with increasing ferocity.  “Siobhan,” he croons in her ear, eyes still fixed on Gale, “darling. It seems Gale is uncomfortable with our proximity. What would you like me to do? Perhaps you prefer his company to mine?” 

[alwaysmoncheri]

summary: regulus joins the death eaters and your relationship is challenged by the dangers attached

cw: female!reader, angst, comfort, established relationship, fluff, mentions of the first wizarding war, mentions of death eaters, 1k, regulus black x reader

<3

in the dimly lit corridors of hogwarts, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions as the news of regulus’s forced decision to join the ranks of the death eaters reaches your ears. the weight of disappointment and concern settles heavily on your shoulders as you grapple with the reality of the dangerous situation.

unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, you seek out the solitude of the astronomy tower. the wind whistles through the open windows, carrying with it the echoes of your troubled thoughts. you gaze out over the castle grounds, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the landscape as if the very walls of hogwarts hold secrets too heavy for the night.

your heart pounds with a mix of sadness and fear as you remember the genuine smile that once adorned regulus's face. the person you knew seemed to be slipping away, entangled in the darkness that threatened to consume him. the path he was forced to choose filled you with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

just as the cold wind seems to seep into your very soul, the stairs behind you let out a loud creak, and regulus black steps onto the astronomy tower. his dark eyes, once filled with warmth, now hold a distant and haunted look. the sight of him clad in the dark robes that remind you of a death eater sends shivers down your spine.

"y/n," he utters, his voice strained and laced with an unspoken turmoil. you turn to face him, and the pain etched across his features strikes you like a physical blow. this was not the regulus you had known—the kind, gentle soul who had stolen your heart. instead, before you stands a shadow, a reflection of the choices he had made.

he approaches slowly, as if unsure of whether he deserves your presence. the air crackles with tension, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. in the silence that stretches between you, the weight of unspoken words hangs heavily.

"I never wanted you to see me like this," regulus admits, his eyes avoiding yours, “I hoped this day would never come.” he adds, running an anxious hand through his unruly curls to brush them away from his eyes. 

you take a deep breath, and take a couple of hesitant steps closer to your boyfriend, mustering the courage to confront the reality unfolding before you. "regulus, why?”

his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the mask slips, revealing the conflict raging within him. "I thought it was the only way to protect those I care about. to protect you.”

a bitter mix of anger at his parents and sadness for the situation wells up within you. "protect me? what about us? what about the life we wanted?”

regulus's jaw tightens, his unease evident, but he proceeds to take a couple of steps closer to you, attempting to reach out. "you don't understand. I had no other choice.” he explains, settling the blame firmly on his parents. his explanation hangs in the air, a desperate attempt to justify a decision that seems irreversibly damaging. the rift between you grows, fueled by the choices that had led regulus down this treacherous path.

you step back, denying his attempt to reach for your hand and a flicker of vulnerability crosses his eyes as he senses that he’s losing you. "regulus, you’re going down a path that I cannot follow.” you whisper before brushing past him and rushing back to your dorm to succumb to your emotions alone. 

regulus's gaze follows you, and for a moment, he thinks about chasing after you. he wishes to squeeze your hand, as a silent acknowledgment of the lifeline he longs to provide for you. but he knows he has to let you go, if you’ve made up your mind, then there is no way he’d get you back. he needs to let you go because he loves you, and that means he would end the world to make you happy—even if that means without him. 

—

days turn into weeks, and the distance between you and regulus seems to widen. one evening, you find regulus alone in a hidden corner of the library. his gaze is distant, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. the air cracks with tension as you approach, uncertain of what lies ahead.

"regulus," you speak softly, the sound of your voice breaking through the uneasy silence.

he turns to face you, and the weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, but the spark of hope beneath that speaks louder. "y/n, you were right. you shouldn't be here. it’s dangerous." regulus whispers, returning a book to the shelf and attempting to brush past you, just like you’d done the night in the astronomy tower. 

you grab his hand before he can run away, refusing to be deterred. "no, I was wrong. I won't let you face this alone.” you say, shaking your head, “we can find a way together.”

regulus's gaze wavers, the conflict within him visible. "he’s planning a war, y/n. being close to me would mean you're always going to be at risk. " he responds, his voice barely audible.

you step closer, determined to bridge the gap between the two of you. "regulus, please. you don't have to face this alone."

a vulnerable silence hangs in the air, and then, unexpectedly, regulus breaks down. the walls he had built crumble, and you find yourself holding him as he weeps. the weight of the choices, the darkness, and the burden of a path he is walking alone overwhelms him. you begin to whisper words of solace, offering reassurance that he doesn’t have to walk through this darkness alone. 

as the tears subside, regulus clings to you—in the dark corner of the library, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing the only anchor he has left. the journey ahead is uncertain, and the war threatening to break out scares you more than anything ever has, but you vow to stand by regulus’s side. together you will find a way to make it out. love had always been your guiding light, a beacon in the shadows, as you face the daunting task of rescuing the lost soul of regulus black from the clutches of voldemort and the death eater’s grip.

masterlist ❧ regulus black masterlist ❧ taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[roastedoatmilk]

Let The Light In

Rolan x Fem Tiefling Tav (Sybil)

summary: The five times Rolan thinks his feelings for Sybil are unrequited and the one time Sybil catches him by surprise

word count: 3.4k

tags: angst with a happy ending, unrequited love but not actually, rolan being an ass, cal and lia being amazing as usual, idiots who are obviously in love but don't know it.

A/N got the idea for this fic by @gnomishcunning it’s a bit different from what they posted but it’s the same concept !!! let me know if yall would like to see sybil's pov of this fic ! this is also on ao3

One

The first time Rolan met Sybil was admittedly not one of his better moments, the wizard had been arguing with his siblings when the hero showed up with her rag tag group of companions. The purple haired tiefling had wandered over to the siblings, taking a moment to listen as the one with his brown hair pulled up argues that they need to make it to Baldur’s Gate as soon as possible causing his siblings to groan in disapproval.

“She’s right,” Sybil piped up, “we survived Elturel, surely a wizard as accomplished as yourself can help with the fight here.” her voice soothed Rolan’s ears, he had never heard such a wonderful voice before. 

“Thank you, it’s the right thing to do and you know it!” Lia says, her words aimed at her stubborn brother.

“She’s right Rolan, we're better than this.” Cal agrees.

Rolan rolled his eyes and sighed “Zurgan fine I’ll stay too lest you end up with your throats slit by a goblin blade.” 

“Thank you Rolan.” Lia sighs before walking away with Cal at her side.

Sybil approaches Rolan again, curious about the stubborn tiefling. 

“We should’ve left by now, damnation.” Rolan grumbles, “Instead we’re sitting here practically begging to be attacked, staying is a mistake.”

A slight frown finds its way onto the cleric’s light blue face, “You’re doing the right thing you know, the tieflings need help.” Sybil says calmly.

“And what about us? There’s every chance we’ve doomed ourselves by helping these people.” Rolan scoffs.

Before Sybil can even respond the grumpy wizard continues, “We will end up fodder for some goblin’s blade all because Lia insists on helping every wounded foal we see, our best chance to make it to Baldur’s Gate is on our own. This place is lost.” 

Sybil’s frown deepens her eye twitching in irritation as he once again mentions the illustrious city, “Why are you in such a rush to get to the city?” the cleric questioned crossing her arms over her chest. 

Rolan straightened himself up, puffing out his chest at the question, “Well you are currently looking at the newest apprentice of Lorroakan,” the red tiefling bragged, a smirk on his face. “Yes that Lorroakan, the greatest wizard in Baldur’s Gate.”

Sybil’s red eyes twitched even more at the mention of the ginger haired wizard, “You mean Lorroakan who lives in Ramazith tower in the Upper City? I’ve heard some pretty nasty things about that man.” the hero tells the shorter man, her irritation evident. 

The corner of Rolan’s lips twitched, “All rumors I can assure you, Master Lorroakan is the best of the best and I would study under nothing less.” the wizard huffs. 

Sybil nods in response not fully believing him but not wanting to argue. She turns to her companions and begins to chat with them, with her attention no longer on him Rolan takes time to fully take in the hero’s appearance. She stood more than a few inches taller than him. Her dark purple hair was pulled back into a tightly braided bun, strands of hair brushing against her face parting around her horns. Rolan watches as she laughs at something the wizard in purple robes says, her ruby red eyes crinkling up as she smiles, her tail flicks slightly as she laughs. He’s shook out of his daze when he feels an elbow jab into his side, his head whips to the left to see Lia has made her way back over to him, smirking at her brother with a knowing look on her face. Rolan scoffs and looks away, refusing to give her the satisfaction of his embarrassment. 

After a moment Sybil and her group bid the siblings farewell, making their way down to the Druid’s Grove. Rolan watches the cleric as she leaves, Lia and Cal, who had rejoined his siblings, watch their brother with matching looks on their faces. Rolan sighs as she fades from view, thinking that he really messed up whatever chance of companionship that he had with the cleric.

Two

It had been weeks since the last time Rolan had seen or heard from Sybil, he and his siblings tried to make their way through the Shadow Cursed Lands but things went terribly wrong. Which is why Rolan now finds himself sitting at the bar in the Last Light Inn, drowning his sorrows in liquor. The wizard was so lost in his own misery, he failed to realize that a certain tiefling cleric had once again managed to find him. 

“There’s another bottle of Arabellan Dry over there, put it on the bar, then piss off and leave me alone.” The wizard snaps at the two children manning the bar.

“Jahiera said that we should serve drinks but that we shouldn’t serve drunks.” Ide tells the wizard, her eyes catching on the purple haired tiefling who had finally made it over to where Rolan was. 

“Jahiera didn’t save your ragged little tail from the cultists, I did.” Rolan quips, his words slurred. He was too far gone to notice the presence that had appeared behind him. 

“Do you want to talk about your sorrows instead of drowning them?” Sybil asks gently, resting her hand on the wizard’s shoulder.

“I’d rather drown than talk to a sanctimonious prick like you,” Rolan snaps at her before harshly shrugging her hand off his shoulder. Sybil flinches at his tone, completely taken aback. 

“If you’re here to save the day again you’re a little late this time.” The brown haired tiefling retorts, refusing to look at Sybil. 

“What’s wrong Rolan? Is there any way I can help?” Sybil asks carefully, trying her hardest not to upset the man further. 

“Oh sod off,” Rolan snarls, finally turning to face the taller woman “I’m only here because you helped me and my family. I was ready to cut and run back at the grove but you had other ideas.” 

The pure venom in his voice shocks Sybil, she had never heard him sound so angry before, not even back at the grove. 

“Cal and Lia were taken in by your crap,” Rolan snaps at the cleric once more, “You convinced them to play hero, and now they're gone.” 

Sybil gasps, her eyes watering at the thought of the twins being taken by the cult. The purple haired cleric clears her throat before responding to the angry wizard with, “Then it’s my responsibility to bring them back.”

This didn’t seem to be the correct response however all it did was make Rolan even angrier, he rounds on the taller woman before yelling, “They’re my responsibility, you go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do,” He glares at the taller woman, “I’ll fix this.” 

Rolan turns back to the bar refusing to look at her any longer, he briefly thinks to himself through his drunken haze that he’s definitely messed it up with her this time but he can’t find it in himself to care, too focused on the pain of losing his siblings.

Three

The darkness of the Shadow Cursed Lands is more intense than Rolan remembered, the light from the torch he carries barely cutting through it. He doesn’t let that deter him though, too focused on trying to get to Moonrise so he can rescue Lia and Cal. Faintly Rolan hears whooshing behind him, he ignores it and continues on his way. He makes it all of ten steps before he’s being surrounded by shadow fiends. Rolan desperately tries to fend them off but with only one hand being available to use it wasn’t much help. Just as he was beginning to accept his fate and let the fiends take him he hears shouting in the distance. 

“BY THE GODS ROLAN IS THAT YOU???” Sybil shouts running as fast as her legs can go, her companions following closely behind the purple haired tiefling.

Right as the cleric makes it to where Rolan stands a fight breaks out, Sybil and her companions fight valiantly against the fiends. The sight of it makes a bitter feeling settle in the wizard’s stomach. Before long the fight was won, the finishing blow being landed by Astarion’s arrow soaring straight into the final fiend. Sybil turns frantically towards Rolan already reaching in her pack for a healing potion to give to him, the sight of it only worsens the feeling in the pit of Rolan’s stomach.

“Gods damn it all, I can do nothing right- not a damn thing.” The man shouts, shocking everyone around him. 

“Rolan, please tell me you weren’t looking for Moonrise.” Sybil says, blood and dirt staining her face. Her eyes wide as she looks at the broken man before her. 

“So what if I was, Cal and Lia could be there,” the wizard snaps, “Instead I found myself cornered by shadow fiends and in need of rescue. From you of all bloody people.”

Sybil steps back a bit, the healing potion still clutched firmly in her hand.

“Rolan, Cal and Lia have already been rescued from Moonrise along with the other tieflings, they’re back at the Last Light waiting for you,” The purple haired cleric tells the man gently. “You were trying to help your family, you’re too hard on yourself.” Sybil holds out the hand that's holding the healing potion to the red tiefling.

“Or not hard enough, I’ve failed Cal and Lia again I should’ve been the one to rescue them not you.” Rolan growls, snatching the potion from Sybil’s hand and downs it. “Right then back to the Last Light, where I can tell my siblings how I’ve once again failed them.” 

Rolan doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before turning around and marching in the direction that they came from. On his way back Rolan thinks to himself that Sybil was only trying to help and that he shouldn’t have snapped at her. He once again has mucked things up with someone who was only trying to help.

Four

When they all make it back to the inn Rolan immediately hears his siblings calling for him and rushes over to them.

“Did you enjoy relaxing here while I battled that wretched darkness?” Rolan questions his siblings furiously, “What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, we got captured by murderous lunatics!” Lia snaps back.

“I thought you were dead you ass. Both of you!” Rolan retorts.

“We’re all safe Rolan, that's what matters.” Cal replies, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Sybil makes her way over to the siblings relieved that they made it back safe, “Rolan was in a bad state without the two of you.” Sybil tells the twins gently.

"I was just - overwhelmed, it doesn't matter.” Rolan sighs trying his hardest to not concern his siblings about his well being. 

Lia and Cal finally fully take in Rolan’s appearance, his normally well done hair loose and almost completely undone, the bottom of his robes caked in mud, the tremble in his voice as he speaks to them.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve been here.” Lia says, feeling horrible for her brother.

“No - no it's not your fault, I shouldn’t have shouted - I’m sorry.” Rolan replies softly.

Cal turns to Sybil, who had been standing off to the side to give the siblings a moment to themselves. 

“Thank you for rescuing me, and the two idiots.” Cal tells the cleric. 

Sybil awws and pulls both Cal and Lia in for a hug, the cleric has grown quite fond of the twins over the time she has spent around them. After a brief moment she lets the two go and makes her way over to Rolan who is shifting on his feet clearly feeling awkward. 

“Anything to add Rolan?” Sybil asks the wizard who is currently refusing to meet her eyes. 

“I’ve lashed out at you, drunkenly and otherwise and you helped anyway,” Rolan sighs, “You didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry and thank you.” 

Rolan finally looks up at the cleric and sees that her eyes have gone misty, his eyes widen in alarm but before he can say anything he too is pulled into a hug by the tiefling woman. The second he feels the warmth of her body against his own Rolan sighs wrapping his own arms around the taller woman. After a few moments Sybil releases the wizard, a small smile on her face.

“I’ve grown rather fond of you three and I always help the people I care about.” Sybil utters, her voice so soft Rolan could barely hear her. 

The wizard feels heat rush to his face, his heart practically beating out of its chest. All the poor man can say in response is mutter a small “Thanks.” causing the cleric to giggle. They stand there with each other for another moment before Sybil and her companions once again bid them farewell. That night as he tried to get some sleep all that Rolan could think of was Sybil, the way she helped him and his siblings without question, the way she brushes off praise for her heroic acts with a purple tinge to her cheeks, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, the way her voice sounds as she says his name. Staring up at the ceiling all the wizard can bring himself to say is “Shit.”

Five

Life as the apprentice of Lorroakan was not at all what Rolan thought it would be when he arrived in the city over a month ago. If anything it was far worse than anything he could’ve thought of. Not only was Lorroakan a massive prick who used the tiefling as his personal punching bag, but Rolan’s days have also become incredibly dull. He hadn’t heard from Sybil since the last night he saw her at the inn, not that he was expecting to hear from her at all but there was a small part of him who had hoped that one day he’d wake up to find that a letter from her mysteriously appeared on his nightstand. 

Standing behind the front desk at Sorcerous Sundries the wizard sifted through papers, waiting for a customer to approach. Rolan was growing tired of constantly explaining to people that no he couldn’t in fact tell them what The Nightsong is because he himself didn’t know. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the very cleric who had constantly been on his mind approach him. 

“Hells Rolan what happened to you?” Sybil asked, concern heavily lacing her voice.

The wizard jumps at hearing the very voice he’d been dreaming of for a month. He looks up to see Sybil standing in all of her beautiful glory, she seems to have collected some scars over the time they were apart, he takes notice of a particularly nasty one gracing her forearm. 

 “Nothing for you to worry about.” Rolan replies silently pleading for her to drop it. He didn’t want to explain that the wizard he had so arrogantly bragged to her about’s favorite way to pass time is to beat him.He should’ve known better however because by the looks of it Sybil didn't believe him, however before she could even try to question him further he changed the subject. 

“But nevermind that, what can I do for you?” The wizard asks, trying to keep this interaction as professional as possible.

Sybil frowns, sensing that she won’t get anything out of him about the bruises covering his face, “Do many people ask about The Nightsong?” the cleric asks, seemingly moving onto what she actually came here for.

“It’s all I deal with these days, people claiming their trinkets are the real nightsong, looking for the mountain of gold Lorroakan promised.” Rolan sighs, “There's even a pamphlet, take one they’re on the desk.”

A small smile flickers to Sybil’s face, finally getting a glimpse of the Rolan that she knows. “I have information on The Nightsong.” The purple haired cleric tells him. 

“Be very sure before you go to visit Lorroakan, he's got a beastly temper but if you really do know something he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs you can find a way to his tower up there.” The wizard replies, locking his eyes with Sybil’s.

The cleric nods in response before stepping forward, “Thanks Rolan it was wonderful to see you, I did miss you you know.” She whispers as if she didn’t want her companions to hear her. Before Rolan could respond Sybil pulled back and motioned for her group to follow her. Rolan only managed to catch one more glimpse of her as she walked up the stairs. For the rest of the shift all he could think about was what Sybil told him, he refused to believe she meant it in any way other than as friends. He had simply messed things up one too many times for her to ever think about him that way. Or so he thought

Plus one

Rolan’s entire body ached, the adrenaline that coursed his body through battle finally wearing off. Lorroakan had been defeated thanks to Sybil and the actual Nightsong or as she called herself Dame Aylin. Once he found out that the Nightsong was in fact a person and not an artifact Rolan felt not only disgusted but betrayed, he never would’ve worked for Lorroakan if he knew. A million thoughts flew through the red tielfing’s mind, he was so distracted that he once again didn’t notice Sybil approach him. He flinches as he feels hands rest on his shoulders. 

“I just wanted to check up on how you’re doing, you know now that Lorroakan is gone.” Sybil says, she rubs her thumbs back and forth across the shorter man’s shoulders. 

“Honestly I feel fine, all things considered.” Rolan replies looking up at the purple haired cleric who is crouched in front of him.

“That’s great to hear, I’m sure being the new master of the tower is going to take some getting used to. I’m here if you need anything.” The blue tiefling tells him gently, her thumbs still rubbing his shoulders. 

For some reason this seems to be Rolan’s final straw, he stands up forcing Sybil’s hands to leave his shoulders. “I just don’t get you, why are you still so kind to me even though I have been nothing but an arse to you since the day we met?” Rolan asks her, his voice heavy.

This caused Sybil to laugh, a fully body genuine laugh making Rolan’s face scrunch up in confusion. 

“Hells Rolan I really thought I was being obvious this whole time, I’m in love with you have been since the day I saved you in the Shadow Cursed Lands.” Sybil says between giggles. 

Whatever he was expecting her to say it sure as hell wasn’t that,  “Are you quite well? I don’t think you’re aware of what you just said.” Rolan tries to reason with the cleric. 

“Oh for the love of the gods yes Rolan I am aware of what I said and I meant every word, now if it’s okay with you I’d like to kiss you now.”  Sybil groans with a large grin plastering her face.

“Well go on then.” Rolan replies, still in shock. 

Before he could think of anything else he felt soft lips enveloping his own. It shocked him just how soft Sybil’s lips are even after months of adventuring. Rolan sighs as he relaxes into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sybil’s waist and pulling her closer. Kissing Sybil felt like coming home, a warm tingly feeling flooded the wizard’s entire body. The pair kiss for a few more moments before they are interrupted by several wolf whistles coming from behind them causing the pair to break apart. Sybil groans as she sees the shit eating grins on every single one of her companion’s faces. 

“I’m so sorry about them Rolan, excuse me while I knock some sense into them.” Sybil whispers before giving him one more peck on the lips.

Rolan stands there for a moment watching the taller tiefling make her way over to Astarion and pick him up by the back of his armor causing him to yelp. The wizard laughs as he watches the woman that he loves joke around with her companions. The woman he thought not even 24 hours ago that he had zero chances with. For the first time in over a month his heart was completely full.

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate Part One:

The Reclusive Wizard and the Cheeky Upstart

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

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.

[blackbat05]

A New Feeling

Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Plot: An accidental trip to the newest department at the Ministry leaves Fred Weasley with a new feeling and wanting for more.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Felt like writing something on a whim. Here's to new beginnings and fresh starts! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for the support!

"Why are we even here George?" Fred bemoans as he unwillingly drags his feet behind his twin.

"Hey, I don't like this any more than you do." George stares at him accusingly. "But we have to submit these permits on time if we want to expand the shop." George sighs. "It's the sacrifice of spreading joy."

They squeeze themselves into the elevator with the other Ministry employees, the metal box taking them down to the lobby.

George throws a hand forward to block his twin as Fred is about to step out.

"What gives?"

"I don't think you need to meet Monty. Especially not when you purposely gave him a fire breathing candy that nearly burned half his insides. We need this permit."

"That's because he's a git." Fred rolls his eyes as he sees the mentioned employee entering the office. "He was harassing the witches at the shop! What was I supposed to do?"

"Fine! Just be somewhere else. I'll let you know when I'm done." George coaxes him before leaving to persuade Monty to expand Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Perhaps it was for the best. George was always better at business talk with important wizards and witches.

Making himself sparse, Fred ambles down the hallways that were bustling with Ministry employees from various departments. He finds himself at the end of the many rooms and sees a lone ancient door tucked near the emergency staircase. That's strange. Fred's been here a couple of times but he has never seen that door, or what was behind him.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Fred takes long strides to the mystery door and finally gets a clue of what is behind it. In bold, it read: Ministry of Magic Library and Archives.

Fred turns the knob and the door disappears momentarily, allowing him to step inside.

It felt like he had entered a different realm. Bookcases towered over him as he walked deeper into the library. The number of books was a never ending maze. The smell of old pages demanded patrons to show respect to the sacred place.

"Hello!"

Fred jumps slightly and bumps into an employee who stares at him curiously.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The employee chuckles. Fred can't help but to not notice the scent of strawberry wafting through the air. "How can I help you?"

Fred is rooted to the ground and for the first time, speechless. Her smile was infectious and the sunflower yellow robes seemed to magnify her beauty by miles.

"Well... I'm just... uh... waiting for my brother. I decided to explore the level." Fred explains. "This is new." He waves a hand around the library.

"You're sharp." She remarks and Fred feels oddly proud. "The library and archive room just opened six months ago. After the war, the Ministry felt that it was important to preserve the history and remember what everyone fought for." She leads Fred further in and his footsteps no longer feel heavy. "We have books on different subjects and from all over the world. Minister Shacklebolt felt it was important to learn from our counterparts."

They stop at the fifth shelve and with a wave of her wand, a book floats down.

"And by all subjects, we mean everything." She passes Fred a book titled 'Potions and Pranks by Momo Kohuro'. "Mahoutokoro certainly had a knack for producing students extremely proficient in potions. I think you would have liked it there."

"You know me?" Fred says dumbly.

"Of course." She smiles. "I just thought you have enough attention for the day- entire lifetime actually. I didn't want to freak you out." She refers to the wizards and witches who are unabashedly staring at their conversation.

"You and your family were very brave."

Fred's pride had grown exponentially and he had no idea how he should continue without looking like a fool.

"Um, do you think you could show me around the rest of the library? And maybe help me check out this book?"

She nods and leads him around the library and archive room until closing time.

"Thanks. I really enjoyed it."

"I hope I didn't bore you with my incessant talking. I just really like working here. Thanks for being such an amazing guest." She beams and his heart skips a beat.

"Come back anytime."

Fred leaves the library and heads back to the lobby where George is impatiently waiting for him.

"There you are! I thought you fell down the toilet. What took you so long?"

"Just got lost." Fred says simply, his brother's veiled insult flying over his head. George doesn't question Fred's odd behavior.

"We got the permit! But Monty wants us to both sign the papers even though I clearly know my signature would suffice." George purses his lips. "Maybe you were right about Monty being a stuffy old git."

"Uh huh." Fred says absentmindedly.

"Okay, that does it. What have you done with my brother?"

"Nothing! We can come down tomorrow right?" Fred asks.

"Tomorrow is a Saturday." George deadpans. "Tell me what the hell happened while I was away!"

Fred speed walks to the exit with his twin determined and hot on his heels. "Come on, we need to get back for stock taking."

"Not until you tell me what happened!"

The scent of strawberry still clouds his mind. Fred makes a mental note to get her name when he drops by the library tomorrow.

[wrightingdungeon]

BG3 Shielding them with yourself

Warnings: Angst, death, some canon some not, a lot of Tav getting hurt somehow, 

Note: I put Minthara with the Durdge just because I love my psychotic wife, that is all, enjoy the fanfics

Astarion: Looking around in a cave at the bottom of the well wasn't bad, the problem was the Phase spiders, they crawled around everywhere. Astarion cursed when his foot caught a web, spiders turning to face the party. “Darling I think we have to go now,” Astarion said turning to head back to the rope, the spiders coming quickly on your heels. Hearing a hiss you looked back and saw a swarm of baby phase spiders. “Move!” Gale yelled throwing back an Alcamyst Fire, his aim sucked and Gale had thrown it much closer to you and Astarion than he thought he had. Grabbing Astarion and shielding his body with yours, you felt the far too-hot explosion when the bottle shattered. Looking back Gales's quick thinking worked to save you from the small spider swarm, but he had successfully burned the shirt off your back as well. Getting out of the cave you peeled off the burnt fabric. “Darling, you are hurt!” Astarion whined as he helped you heal up, his fingers tracing lines on your back.”Are you sure this doesn't hurt? I’ll burn Gale back if you want Darling.””

Gale: Walking back down the sussur tree trying to head back to the Arcane Tower, you all heard the call of a Hooked Horror behind you. “Go, Go.” You instructed your team, pushing them ahead of you. Almost out you watched Gale get pounced on by a hooked horror, you pulled out your hand crossbow shooting at the monster yelling out to get its attention. It turned its attention to you moving closer to you ignoring the wizard lying prone on the ground. “Tav what are you doing!?!??” Gale called seeing the Hooked Horror had separated you from the group. “Other side!” You called before running back up the tree, leading the horror away. You had been killed, the horror had alarmed another in the area and you couldn't outrun both, luckily you had drawn them far enough from the flowers so your team could be useful when they got to you. You woke up with a gasp your body aching “Oh thank Mystra you're ok.” Gale let the used scroll drop, and pulled you close kissing you, “Never do that again! I can’t lose you again.”

Halsin: Laying out in bear form he was taking a nap on his back enjoying the bit of nature you had found for him to enjoy all his bear needs, you were sitting up in a tree reading a book that Gale had let you borrow. Both of you, just enjoying a rare quiet moment together, You look down hearing someone approaching underneath you. “See I told ya, a bear near the city” It was a few of the Gur people that Astarion had warned you about, watching them pull out a crossbow aiming it at Halsin, you jumped down in front of them. “Wai-” You tried to warn them that Halsin’s a druid, not a bear bear. Feeling the arrow lodge itself in your chest before you heard the twang of the string of the crossbow. “Oh shit….” Before your vision blacked out you heard an enraged roar behind you. “You will be ok, I have you my heart.” You felt warmth spreading over you. Opening your eyes and looking up at Halsin you saw him looking down at you, brushing your hair back. “Please do not do that again, I can take a hit as a bear, you can not.” He said touching where the arrow had pierced you.

Karlach: Smiling holding Karlachs hand you both decided to head to the top of Sharess's caress and enjoy a drink together before retiring for the night. Laughing together sharing stories of your lives before the parasites, out of the corner of your eye you saw a patron of the caress had joined you both on the roof. After an hour you both began to make your way down, your alarm bells going off you kept Karlach away from them. “For Zariel!?!?” The patron rushes you both, demonic dagger flashing in the moonlight. Sidestepping guarding Karlach with yourself taking the dagger to the clavicle. “Soldier!?!?!!” Karlach lit up like a bonfire grabbing the attacker holding them up. “Tell Zariel, that she may hunt me to the ends of the Nine Hells, but I will not yield. My path is my own, and I will walk it without fear." She growled throwing them to the ground, stomping on their knee, smashing it so they couldn't follow. “I got you, Soldier…” Karlach whispered picking you up and running off to get Halsin or Shadowheart.

Lae’zel: She had woken up to Shadowheart pinning her down a dagger to her throat. “You had every chance to look the other way, but here we are. You chose this.” Shadowheart’s words spilled venom and hate “Don't expect to be mourned.” Shadowheart said before Lae’zel smacked her in the head with a rock, watching the knife come down Lae’zel could at least die fighting, like a warrior. A hand came crashing into the knife stopping it from harming Lae’zel. “I said STOP!” Feeling Shadowheart being picked up Lae’zel watched you standing over her, your right hand stabbed to the hilt of the dagger, your left hand on Shadowhearts throat holding her up in the air. “Are you going to cooperate, or do I need to take care of you NOW!” You yelled up at her, your booming voice starting to wake up the camp. “O-Ok!” Shadowheart cried out, gasping when she was thrown to the ground. “Go to your tent.” You barked pulling the dagger out of your hand and throwing it at her feet. “Are you ok Lae’zel?” Yes, she was fine, you had taken what was to be a death blow for her.

Minthara: Minthara was skeptical about the Dryad, but you had insisted on wanting to have a bit of fun after having fought Kethric at Moon Rise. “I know my heart - and yours- better than this creature ever will. But we can indulge it if you wish.” She said looking to the Dryad, stepping forward to stand by your side. After the Dryad had asked her questions she began to speak in riddles. “But I know the truth. Only one face haunts your dreams each night. Close your eyes, sweetness, and she will come to you.” Mintharas vision cleared,  seeing the Dryad turn into Orin she froze lightly remembering her laughter when she had infected her with the parasite. Feeling herself get pulled back, she looked up at you, moving your body to block Orin and Minthara. “I could end it now - but I'll be patient. Father will see us together again. He will see you bleed” In a flash Orin was gone. “Bhall I hate her.” You growled, looking back towards Minthara. “I'll separate her head from her shoulders before I let her harm you again.”

Shadowheart: Walking out into the Underdark, you all saw the Minotaurs thinking you all came up with a perfect plan to dispose of them. Nope, the party had not been prepared enough, able to get rid of one but the second refused to go down. Time seemed to freeze for Shadowheart saw the Minotaur running straight at her, ready to skewer her on its horn. Hearing your yell of barbarian rage, the next thing she knew she was on the ground with you standing over her. Your mussels popping out tenfold, holding the Minotaur’s horns locking eyes with the creature. “Aaaaargh!!?!?!?” your yell was strained, your body trembling as you began to pick up the Minotaur off the ground. Throwing it to the side watching as it hit the ground, the creature dug its finger in the ground trying to find something to hold on to, the force keeping its large body moving and rolling, over the ledge and down deeper into the Underdark. Shadowheart’s heart flutters watching you kneeling at her side. “I didn't hurt you, did I? I’m sorry I pushed you… I needed you safe.”

Wyll: He had always had his eye on your back, protecting you from anything that dared to harm you. This fight should have been no different, it had been going well, your team holding the upper hand. That was till the last goblin disappeared “WYLL.” He heard you yell feeling you pull him back, he heard the arrow slicing through the atmosphere with a high whistle, landing with a dull thud inside your abdomen. Watching you rip it out and throw it back, aiming a bullseye in the goblin's eye, lucky that you had let Volo try to help you remove the parasite, your new eye coming in handy quite a few times. Looking around making sure the area was clean you sighed giving the team a thumbs up so they knew no more invisible goblins. “Tav!” Wyll pulled you close popping a potion into your hands and ushering you to drink it. “Don't do that! What if it hit something vital!” He worried out loud looking to make sure the potion was helping. “Says mister ‘Provoke the blade, and suffer its sting’” You teased him, but let him fuss and look you over