#many thoughts occuring in my head all the time about characters i just do not Post them

[gachawolfiebloom]

A Grumpy Troll and A Prince

Chapter 2: An Unwanted Visitor

Tags: Comedy, action, adventure, and romance

The trolls were certainly not kidding when they said it was going to be a loud and crazy party. Everywhere you went there would be a shower of lights and music. Bob was handling the vinyl record on his dj set while some glowing bugs were accompanying him. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING! GET AWAY FROM MY SET!" He tried shooing them until one flew into his mouth and his eyes started to glow.

"HOOOLLLYYY CRAAAAPPP THHHIIIISSSS ISSSSS AWWWWESSSSOOOMMMEEE!"

Meggy was dancing in the crowd before she noticed that Mario was missing. "Hey, where is..." She turned to find Mario singing "La la la la la la" while being hoisted up by tons of trolls that looked like they were about to collapse under the hundreds of pounds Mario weighed. Tari and Melony were helping Tag6 with throwing glitter into the audience.

Unknowingly, one ball of glitter accidentally hit poor Boopkins and the crowd went silent. Was he...dead...

Boopkins sprung back to life like nothing had happened and everyone just dismissed it, carrying on with the party. Up on stage, Four was dancing along with all the others and having a great time while someone was watching him.

Three glanced at the bubbly, happy troll. Made him sick. All this happiness and celebrating and for what? A day that just reminded him of the hardships he had faced in the past. Where he lost T-

Three snapped out of his miserable thoughts and rolled his eyes. If they wanted to die then that was just fine with him. It wasn't his problem anyway. A small, white fluffy dog came up to him with some more sticks which Three took and then patted the pup's head. Eggdog was Three's loyal pet that comforted the grumpy troll and kept him company when he felt lonely. With nothing more to do, the two made their way back to Three's evil villain lair, unknown to what happened next.

Four took it way too far and yelled "MORE GLITTER!" to which in an instant, a flash of colors and light had blinded the trolls and a massive explosion occurred.

On the other side of the forest, a figure with a torn up suit, bent antennas, and a dirty screen was reading off a map, stuck with the life of a commoner. The map had tons of x's scribbled on it, indicating all the places that this mysterious character had searched for in hopes of finding the one thing that could give his life purpose again.

He could have sworn he heard some kind of eruption as Mr Puzzles turned around, grabbed a telescope and peered through the lens. There it was again. Fireworks graced the sky with an image of the prince. A wide grin spread across Mr Puzzles's face as he knew exactly what the cause of this was. After many tireless years of searching..."Trolls."

"Alright everyone, I want to make an announcement." Four and his father were on stage as the prince wanted to do something special for him. Mario interrupted him by shouting out "Hey! That's Smg4! Mario's best friend!" A wave of shushes came from the crowd as the king cleared his throat in an insensitive manner.

"I'd like to take a second to celebrate our king, my father. 20 years ago tonight, he saved all of us from those dreaded-"

BOOM.

A series of echoing footsteps drew closer and closer as the trolls all looked up to see a man with a tv head, staring back at them. In a stroke of dumbness, Four tried to be hospitable by asking him "Uh...you like memes?" Mr Puzzles smiled and zipped open a bag to take the future feast of the Bergens back to where they belonged. "RUN!" the prince yelled as all the trolls sprinted in different directions.

This certainly wouldn't do. Mr Puzzles decided to pick trolls one by one. Luigi was shaking, terrified as he instantly got scooped up. Four rushed off the stage until he heard a familiar voice. "MARIO JR! WHERE ARE YOU!?" He saw his best friend searching for his pet when it was actually behind him, but it was too late as Mr Puzzles grabbed both of them.

"EVERYONE BLEND IN!" The trolls used their hair to make them look like leaves or grass. At this point, anything would suffice. Four almost got taken as well, but managed to duck out of the way. He then saw that Boopkins was trying to run as fast as his tiny feet would take him, soon before Bob came running and pushed him out of the way. "MOVE GREEN TURD!" A hand blocked their path and dragged them to the bag as Bob yelled out "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

He looked another way and saw that Tari and Melony were hyperventilating, scrambling around instead of running, and it wasn't long before they too were captured. "Four help!" The prince found Meggy with a frightened group of children all huddled up in the open. He and Meggy guided them over to a patch of tall grass and told them to disguise themselves.

Meggy had unfortunately forgot to hide herself in an effort to protect her friends and was snatched right in front of Four's eyes. "Meggy!" He then saw Tag6 being pulled to the bag. The prince quickly extended his hair to make a rope for Tag6 to latch onto, but it almost didn't matter.

The grip loosened with every passing second until...both of them were separated and Four watched in horror as his friends were all stuffed into the bag. Mr Puzzles looked around for anymore wandering trolls and saw the king, hitting his foot and yelling "Let them go at once!"

Four saw Mr Puzzles reaching down for his father as he quickly saved him and hid under the stage platform. Not a sound. One peep and they were dead. Mr Puzzles crouched down to look at their hiding spot. They were gone...? Four's breath quickened as that screen kept looking straight at them. After a few seconds, Mr Puzzles realized he would have to come back later to gather the rest of them. He gave up and observed the remains of the village. "Thanks for throwing the biggest, loudest..."

"Craziest party ever!" Mario finished as he stuck his head out of the bag. Mr Puzzles shoved him back in and set off. Next stop, Bergen town. After the coast was clear, Four slowly removed the hair incasement that had blended in with the scenery. He got out and looked out in despair on what just happened. His friends were captured and the village was in ruins. All the other trolls got out from their hiding places as well to approach the king and prince on the situation.

"Is it coming back?" One of the trolls asked. "What are we gonna do now?" Another inquired. The prince tried to fight back the tears in his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. Before he could provide an answer, the king quickly instructed "We have to find another home immediately! Everyone hurry before that...thing comes back!" Four was shocked. "We have to rescue my friends." The king shook his head and said "No. We have to run. Now come on, let's go!" Just up and abandoning everything like that. This wasn't the leader that the prince knew when he was small.

"What about no troll left behind?" The king stopped in his tracks and sighed. "I'm sorry Four. That was a long time ago and I'm no longer the great leader you admired so much." The prince thought to himself for a second and retorted back "Then I'll go and save them!"

"NO FOUR! THAT'S WAY TOO DANGEROUS!" He didn't stand down. "I have to try." His father didn't believe him. "You won't be able to make it to Bergen town by yourself. That's impossible." There was no response. It was impossible to get there by yourself. You would need help. That's when an idea struck in Four's mind. He knew just the troll to ask.

Three was sitting at his desk, staring sadly at the smashed invitation. Eggdog was laying down next to him, softly whimpering and looking up at him with adorable puppy eyes. Would he have felt better if he had gone to the party? Three opened a drawer that revealed a bunch of other cards that Four had sent him in the past. Even though he declined them all, he couldn't help but save them.

He then heard a knock at the door. Quickly, he rushed to stuff the invitation in the drawer with all the others, but they all began sounding off. The knocking turned into pounding as Three kept shoving them all inside while shushing them. Once he finally got them all in, he could hear the voice of his unwanted guest and sighed in annoyance.

Outside, Four was banging on the door to Three's lair while he kept calling out his name. "Three! Three! THREE ARE YOU IN THERE!" A piece of the door mat that read: "Go away losers!" opened and angry red eyes popped out.

"I'm not going to your party! Now leave me alone!"

"The party's over! We just got attacked by someone who is working for the Bergens!"

Three's eyes narrowed. "I knew it!" The door mat flung open and Three grabbed Four to bring him inside. The prince watched as the grumpy troll began setting out multiple locks and traps all around them. Once he finished with the last mousetrap, the two fell into silence. Three kept looking up, waiting for the sounds of Bergens to come flocking by his door.

"Three I-" He placed a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Four pushed his hand away as this was kinda important here. "I have to tell you something-" Three pointed a finger in his face and aggressively hushed him again. "I was just gonna-" Three was so irritated that this idiot would not shut up when told to so he whipped his head around and furiously went "SHHHHHH!!!"

Four groaned in frustration and quietly raised his hand. "What!? What could be so important that it's worth leading the Bergens right to us!?"

"It's gone!"

"You don't know that! It could still be out there! Watching...waiting...listening..." Three made very intense eye contact when he said that last part which kind of freaked Four out. He shook off that thought. Now that the awkward silence between them was over, it was back to addressing the situation to Three. "No it left! It took Meggy, Boopkins, Bob, Melony, Tari, Mario, Luigi, AND TAG6!"

Three rolled his eyes at that name while Four stopped freaking out for a moment and took a breath. "Which is why I have come to ask...will you come with me to Bergen town to rescue everyone?" Three's eyes widened and he looked kind of ticked off. "WHAT!? NO!" Four tried to reason with him. "Three! You can't say no! They're your friends!" He stopped the prince right there. "Not so fast! They're your friends, not mine."

"I'm staying here in my evil villain lair." Four threw his eyes back in annoyance to find that he had come all this way for nothing. "Oh that's just great. You're the one guy who knows more about Bergens than anyone, but when we finally need you, you're just going to hide down here forever!"

"Forever? No." He flipped a switch that Four had somehow missed on the way in. They began to descend down on a platform to his lair. "I really only have enough supplies down here to last me 10 years, maybe 11, if I'm willing to store and drink coffee from the beans I find...which I am!"

Four looked around in amazement. He had no idea that Three had built all of this. He had never bothered to invite Four, or anyone else to his home. "You all said that I was crazy, but who's crazy now?"

"..."

"Me. Crazy prepared."

The platform had arrived at the bottom and Three stepped off to store the sticks he had gathered earlier. Four then felt something brush up against his leg. The friendly little Eggdog wanted to say hello to the unexpected guest and barked happily at him. Four smiled and patted his head, then worked up the courage to admit he was wrong.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." Three turned with a raised eyebrow to hear what he had to say. "You told me not to throw the party, I threw it anyway, it's my fault they were taken, and now I don't know what to do!" Three crossed his arms and said "Why don't you try praying to the memes for their freedom." Four looked unamused while Three had a smug grin.

"Well...thanks anyway." He headed off as Three called out "Sure. See you in 10 years idiot." Four kept his unimpressed eyeballs on Three as he pulled the lever. Once he was gone, Three's smile slowly faded. He started walking away when he heard the platform coming back.

"Hey Three? I was wondering if I could borrow something."

"What."

"You're lair!"

"WHAT!?"

The room was swarmed instantly by the entire population of trolls, all in desperate need of a home. Three grabbed Eggdog as the two were overwhelmed by the now crowded space they were sharing. "FOUR! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" Four placed his hands on his hips like a sassy teenager and said "You said you had enough supplies to last 10 years right?" Three couldn't believe this moron had turned his own words against him. "To last me 10 years! ME! It will last them 2 weeks!"

"Then I guess I better hurry!" He began walking to the exit when Three stopped him by grabbing his hand. "Wait! You won't last a day out there."

Four pointed to the collection of trolls and roasted him back by saying "And you won't last a day in here." Three looked around and saw all the trolls drinking his coffee rations, playing with his bear traps, and smashing his valuables. He looked at the prince confused on how he was played while Four walked off.

"Four!"

He turned to find his father, filled with concern. "Please be careful." He nodded and said with reassurance "I can do this." His father hugged him and let his son carry on with the journey. Four got back on the platform and said "Bye everyone! See you soon!" Three pushed through the crowd as they waved back "Good luck prince Smg4!"

Four stared at his hug time bracelet and counted down with his fingers "And 3...2...1..." A ding sounded off and that was his cue to leave as he pulled the lever. All the trolls's bracelets sounded off and Three's pupils shrunk instantly. "Hug time!" He slowly backed away as the crowd drew closer like zombies. "No..." Four watched Three become more panicked induced as the trolls came closer and closer.

"No! NO! NOOOO!"

Chapter 3: Coming Soon

#comedy #adventure #action #romance #smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg4 au #smg34 fanfiction #trolls #trolls au #trolls movie #trolls bergens #smg4 trolls #trolls branch #trolls poppy

[takekawa]

expanding on this while sick off my tits to give me something else to focus on

i love when bitches are CRAZY and/or pathetic which is admittedly funny thinking about my favorite beautiful lovely obeyme wife Solomon who is you know. not THAT crazy and not pathetic in the way i like. like he’s competent and his blustering social incompetence is in the “he just doesn’t know he’s kinda weird and mildly ominous at times” way not the “pathetic whimpering animal” (mammon) (leviathan) way i usually go for

although admittedly im just a sucker for the ‘jovial wizard who is definitely threatening’ trope. merlin fate. shahmat dirtycrown. in hindsight it’s funny all of these guys have white hair. would all be fluffy long white hair if Solomon didn’t have that fuckass cut

obey me in general is such a funny series for me to be into bc like. No one in it is THAT crazy due to the medium/target audience (except belphie I respect whatever the fuck is wrong with him) but they all still enchant me so bad. admittedly im reinterpreting them a teensy bit in my head to be bigger creeps because i have a rare disease where if i don’t make every character a little bit of a yandere stalker ill die. whatever. my vision is true

off the top of my head like

lucifer ok I can’t actually fuck this one bc he lives in my head and regularly talks to me but he’s still moe moe kyun. exhausted brat-tamer father is inherently crack cocaine to me. Cannot say more and still look that alter in the eye. my bad peepaw

satan HATER NATION REPRESENT 💥💥💃 also him being such a stuffy serious nerd gushing about cats is moe. Meow for me boy

beel definitely the least interested in him bc of how aggressively normal he is but it’s fine he’s smexy. and presumably built like a chubbier laios. Sultry little whore body type

belphie gotta love a guy who fakes being your friend to turbo murder you then goes back to being your friend with the limpest apology ever as if the attempted murder and false friendship wasn’t even that big a deal. love you casual psychopath. also a siscon so bonus points

mammon pathetic dog who would wear a leash if you asked him too and act really indignant the whole time like this is SUCH an ordeal UGH he’s so above this (he’s been nuclear levels of wet the entire time)

asmo see appearance wise im not interested. But. not a clue if im bastardizing his character but ive been assuming his total obsession (the like… measuring your body and pointing out tiny traits of yours that are cute/changed scene comes to mind) is in the “he’s definitely stalking you” vindictive possessive way. throwing dead birds at the window whenever you’re hanging out with someone else. starting shit on his fifth alternate instagram account so it doesn’t look like it’s HIM stirring the pot every time you don’t respond to his texts immediately. I like to think he’s very petty and pissy but that’s admittedly my debilitating stalker kink talking

levi pathetic ass neet nerd with zero game you enchant me. bend over while watching mid harem anime boy

the extraneous cast (outside of Solomon) i am woefully less knowledgeable on but at a glance i do like all of them. simeon is obscenely hot and also motherly-but-ominous (sexy). mephi seems like a raging cunt which i respect but he is a devoted cuck so we can’t fuck. diavolo is married to lucifer but i do respect the whole ‘outwardly jovial but will use his status to make you do what he says’ schebang. he’d aggravate the fuck out of me but i can’t diss the hustle

who the fuck else is there. barbatos is also a devoted cuck but i like how cunty and rude he is. luke does not hit the notes i like in that way but he’s a funny little guy i enjoy him. no fucking clue what the one woman with a number name im forgetting does but i like her fit and vibe

#blue moon personal post #many thoughts occuring in my head all the time about characters i just do not Post them #i love you crazy bitches #rambling about obey me in this but it’s obscenely funny whenever the crazy bitches i like overlap with my kins #(kylar is that.)

[doobea]

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, explicit content, they do basically everything BUT seggs (oral male and female receiving, sexting, fingering), extreme word vomit and narration in the beginning, characters are all in their mid/late-20s, romcom, honestly they're figuring themselves out, mdni word count: 4K a/n: honestly, idk why the word count keeps increasing everytime but i tried to make this as fluffy and emotional as possible?? please have respectful eyes and thoughts when reading :3c - again if u wanna be added to the taglist just comment below hehe

三 : Baby, my room is the G spot -> prev. -> next.

You've spent the past few weeks mulling over your "passion project"; spending the majority of your days writing till late as three in the morning, back slouched and brain caffeinated, convincing yourself that each paragraph written was perfect. But recently you've found yourself hating every word, every sentence, and every character development point that you've produced. If it wasn't for the fact that you've poured over 30,000 words into the novel you would've scrapped everything and started over. Something felt off.

You groan, kicking your legs underneath your office desk and slumping over in your chair. The words on the screen didn't even look like words anymore. You can't count how many times you've rewritten the same paragraph. Writer's block is killing you and you blame it on your husband.

It's been exactly three days since the dressing room incident and, unlike grown adults, you both decided it was best to sweep it under the rug. There was a small window of opportunity to speak about it but it didn't help that minutes later the store manager put two and two together and implemented a lifetime ban against you and Rin. Needless to say, the drive home was dead silent. But at least you received the clothes for free!

Of course, a million questions ran through your head, trying to piece together what even caused Rin to do that. The most far you've gotten with him was limited to heavy make-out sessions, and even those are a rare occurrence. Your not-so-obvious plan of trying to seduce him worked (it was Shidou's idea), so why do you feel like you're back to square one?

The messaging app on your laptop hops up and down before its jarring ringtone blasts through the speakers. You click 'accept' when you see the names of your familiar penpals pop in the middle of the screen and enter the call seeing eerie smiles coming from everyone.

"So," Bachira sings, eyes gleaming with intensity, "how did it go?"

So much for “hello”.

A soft blush creeps its way to your cheeks and it doesn't go unnoticed by your friends. A chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs' follow suit and you feel even more naked than you were days ago.

"It went well, like super well." You meekly recall the explicit events that occurred in the dressing room, stumbling over the details as you remember your husband's careful movements against your skin and lower regions.

The four men sit up straight, whispering to each other with wide eyes 'See? I told you so!' and Shidou proudly puffs out his chest at his genius plotting.

"But," And this is where everyone stops in their tracks and tenses, "we still slept in separate beds afterwards."

Betrayal and disgust are written on their faces.

Hell breaks loose as the men raise their voices at the same time, a series of fake cries and spurs of curse words that you haven't heard before leak from the device. You hastily connect your Bluetooth headphones to your laptop to hopefully drown out the sounds since Rin is still very much at home - just in the other room.

"Guys," Your voice strains, "everything will be okay." The reassurance is more for yourself than for anyone else on the call.

"I just wanna know what your husband is thinking." Chigiri presses his lips together in a tight line.

"He's bold enough to finger fuck you in a dressing room but doesn't have the balls to just sleep in the same bedroom?" Shidou scoffs.

Hiori raises a hand to interject while wearing an uneasy expression, "You ever think there's something that happened in his past that's causing him to avoid certain amounts of intimacy?"

You draw in a deep breath before shaking your head, "Honestly, I'm not sure if there's much on his past and we've always danced around the topic." More like Rin would always try and excuse himself from the conversation during the few times that it did happen. You've assumed the number of partners is probably more than the average person, given the fact that he's a popular athlete and gives off 'male lead' energy in a drama.

"Here's a wild thought to consider!" Bachira shares his screen, and the contents of a poorly drawn-out graphic bearing the colorful words 'TOP THINGS TO DO TO SEDUCE A VIRGIN' pops up. There is a step-by-step guide with weirdly in-depth descriptions for each point. The points labeled 'force them to share a bed' and 'lingerie' were scribbled out while being accompanied by a sad face.

"What am I looking at exactly?" You blank at the screen, ignoring the suppressed giggling fits coming from Shidou and Chigiri in the background.

Hiori clears his throat, "We were all thinking that maybe your husband is also a virgin." The jarring statement causes you to choke on your saliva but he continues on, "It's clear that he cares about you from what you've told us, and maybe the dressing room incident caused him to have some sort of confidence in his performance? We believe he's just shy and is waiting for you to initiate the process."

Chigiri nods in agreement, "And given that he's avoidant talking about his past relationships, it could mean he just doesn't have any partners and assumes that you probably had plenty."

"But why would he even assume that?"

"Because," Shidou launches himself close to the camera, "you're literally a smut master. You don't think he's looked up your shit even once?"

You open your mouth, trying to fish the right words to respond, and nothing comes out. You find your legs bouncing rapidly against the hardwood floor and gnaw at the bit of flesh in your mouth, a sudden surge of a mix of anxiety and excitement bursting through your veins. "This—I don't think makes sense." Except, you think, it does. It 100% does make sense and you want to hit yourself on the head for not catching it earlier.

Bachira lets out a long whimsical sigh and zooms in to the top of the graphic, enhancing the words 'SEND HIM NUDES, "You can start with this and," he scrolls down to the next bullet point, "follow up with my favorite foreplay: sexting!"

Subconsciously, you find yourself reaching for the phone, staring hard at the background photo of you and Rin on one of your earlier date nights. The photo had poor lighting quality due to the only source being his small apartment TV at the time. The two of you were seated against the couch cushions on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest and his arm awkwardly wrapped around your shoulder. It was your first couple's photo together after a long movie marathon. A shitty but precious photo nonetheless. You find yourself thinking, maybe the third time is the charm?

Rin shuts his laptop after another hour-long session with Anri, feeling everything but relaxed. He didn't go into much detail on what happened, fearing both judgment from his therapist and recognition of the lack of communication skills - so he lies. He didn't care if Anri was able to sense it, Rin knows he's a bad liar, but he also knows that he probably shouldn't be venting with a distracted mind.

He tosses his headphones to his side and lays down on the bed, limbs sprawling out in all directions to try and release some of the tension in his body. Ever since what occurred three days ago, he's been struggling to act like his usual self. His kicks have been sloppy, rushed, and just filled god awful accuracy. The meals that he tried to cook himself right afterward always end up tasting burnt for being on the stove a minute too long. And you? Rin remembers you asking if you had wanted to talk about it shortly after but he was quick to decline. A bit too quickly. He knows he should've started the conversation but restless thoughts of insecurity clouded his judgment.

What if you secretly hated it? What if you faked your orgasm? Will anything that he'll do live up to your prior experiences?

He shudders at the thoughts before snapping back up from the mattress. Rin needs to relieve this stress build-up by doing the only thing he knows best and starts packing his gym bag for the training grounds.

When he pokes his head out, he vaguely overhears muffled voices along with your fingers rapidly typing away at your keyboard, and exhales. You're still busy in your weekly meeting and that means he can have plenty of alone time if he doesn't bump into his teammates during after-hours. Rin quickly fills up his water bottle, throwing in a couple of ice cubes, then dips.

Luck is finally on his side as Rin steps onto the open turf field with no one in sight. He lets out a deep sigh, throws down his bag, and dives deep into his routine work. His mind goes numb an hour in after scoring against the dummy goalie for the nth time, his accuracy returning at a steady pace, and finally decides to take a quick water break. Just as he finishes relacing his cleats, a familiar buzzing sound catches his ears, glancing down to see your text.

my love "are you alone right now?"

He pauses and stares. For some reason, he feels like this is a test and hesitates an answer. Are you in a bad mood? Are you asking to have a long-winded phone call over the incident? Rin's shaky fingers hover over the phone's keyboard and, before he has the chance to say anything, you send over the next message.

The first thing he sees is 'IMAGE RECIEVED' and the second thing he sees is a pair of breasts. Your breasts. It's a faceless photo but he recognizes the white lacey outfit from the boutique. You had one of your arms pressed under your breasts to elevate them for extra volume and your thighs were spread open just enough for your folds to slip through. Rising temperatures and aches soon force their way down to his stomach and growing length.

Even though Rin knew he was alone, he snaps his neck side to side just to make sure before replying.

Rin "looks nice"

He immediately regrets it. It's not like he plays nonchalance very well, either way. Rin is fast to recall back to the erotic novels he's read and pulls together a message that is more fitting and elegant in his eyes.

Rin "do you want me to come back?"

You're quick to respond back and he grimaces.

my love "no."

But you continue to his surprise.

my love "but if you're alone do you mind touching yourself?"

Rin inhales a sharp breath and palms his evident aching length through his shorts, it's burning to the touch. He's confident that there aren't any cameras that are still on, there was no point if everyone else went home for the day, right? Rin finds a comfortable corner in the arena and presses his back flush against the cold wall, pulling out the camera app on his phone. He adjusts the position so that his lower abs are in frame and tug down his waistband enough for his head to poke out, already wet and raging red from precum, and snaps the picture over.

my love "oh wow wait you're at practice rn?" Rin "don't worry too much, im the only one here" "do you want to see more?"

There's a moment in pause and Rin thinks maybe he's overstepped his place as he watches the text bubbles reappear and disappear soon after the other. But soon you return with his message with more than what he can bite.

my love "dont finish just yet! come back when you're done with training and let's have a talk." ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE

And it's a photo of your ass.

On instinct, his fingers brush over his sensitive head and he bites down his lips to contain a threatening moan from escaping. As much as Rin would love to pleasure himself shamefully on work grounds, curiosity, and some sense of morals, crawl back to his senses.

Rin "be back in 15"

With a quick toss of his water bottle and ruffling for his car keys, RIn has never driven home at lightning speed till now.

You find yourself pacing back and forth in your bedroom, heart hammering against your chest as you fiddle with the lace hanging from your bodysuit as a failed attempt to calm your nerves. A part of you wants to thank your friends for their suggestions and another part of you wants to hide underneath covers because you still can't process that this might be finally happening.

Sounds of keys jingling by the front door halts your movements and you could hear your husband frantically tossing his shoes and bag on the floor - an uncharacteristic trait for someone neat like Rin. Before you get the chance of covering up in any way, the athlete rushes into your room, seemingly a bit out of breath. His usual teal eyes now have a familiar dark overcast over them, similar to how he looked in the dressing room days ago.

You press your thighs together, shyly averting your gaze from the male, and cough, "I think we both need to confess something so I'll go first. I want us to explore more intimately but I want you to know that you're going to be my first for essentially everything." You make an anguished noise, flush, and look away. Rin doesn’t press it, but the silence falls over, and it's a heavy one.

You hear him let out a small, but audible, gasp of sorts. Then some shuffling. Then a soft plop. You look up and Rin is sitting on your bed, patting the spot next to him and shooting you a gentle smile. Pressure that you didn't even realize you had is released from your body as you sit down, immediately reaching out to interlace your fingers with his. You sink your head against his broad shoulder.

"You're my first for everything too," Rin admits followed by a hushed sigh, his cheeks tinted red, and it looks like he's going to either laugh or cry, you can't tell but, from the moonlight shining through the windows, you can at least see that he isn't terrified. "So let's take care of each other, okay?" And gives your hand a tight squeeze.

Rin reaches over and tugs you to straddle in his lap. It's not awkward, almost easy, and you follow the eager voices chanting in your head as you lean back between your husband's firm thighs. Arms loop around his neck and your eyes lock, meeting his dark and seemingly naive ones. There is enough natural light flowing in that you can count each individual eyelash, notice the small movements in his pupils as he searches for permission, how his lips tweak from both nervousness and hunger, and that his skin is essentially flawless.

You take the initiative and the kisses that you leave on his collarbones are enthusiastic, needy, and messy - more displaced saliva than anything else. But neither of you cares enough. Rin lets out the slightest of moans and his hands find their way to your thighs, thumbs pressing down hard that leaves you wondering if there's a chance for bruises tomorrow.

His grip on you tightens when your lips hover over his flushed ears. You decide to play with this discovery and drag your teeth over his right ear lobe, almost moaning in response to the noise that escaped from Rin's mouth.

"I didn't realize that you have sensitive ears." You continue to playfully nibble his lobes, managing another groan from the male.

"Don't push it." Rin breathes out before pressing one of his thumbs against your covered folds, humming in contentment when he realizes that it's completely soaked. As he circles around your heat, he hears his name slipping through your plumped lips, a distinctive whine that makes his cock twitch. "Let me try something real quick."

He sets you aside and gets up, desperately tossing his sweat-covered t-shirt and unbearable sweats from his warming skin. All clothes from his body are stripped and forgotten on the bedroom floor as he stands fully exposed and watches your flustered figure with nothing but instincts taking over.

Rin lays fully down on the mattress and motions you to climb on top, ass facing him. If your face wasn't red before, it sure is red now after putting the indications together. "Come here, let me make you feel good." His voice is coated with needy intoxication and you obediently follow his commands.

You carefully hover your lower half over his face and lay face to face with his twitching head, mind racing as you try and figure out how exactly are you going to fit him in your mouth. It should be a crime to be this dangerously attractive and pair it with something so big. Before you get the chance to grasp his length, your body jolts and a shriek escapes your lips. Looking over your shoulder, you see Rin spreading your warmth apart with a smirk etched onto his face.

"Relax," is all he says, pulling down your thighs, and your mesh-covered mound meets with his impatient tongue flicking and drinking your soiled leakage.

You let your mind blissfully go blank and struggle to not grind your hips against his nose. Your ragged breathing hangs over his leaking tip and it twitches angrily in response. Finding your strength, you curl your hand around his throbbing erection, giving it a few experimental strokes, immediately taken aback by how firm a penis can be.

"A bit looser, love." Rin hisses out between your legs, his mouth now covered in a mixture of your fluids and his drool. He's fighting a war in his head, debating whether to stop to look at your cute attempt to swallow him whole or continue to ravage your dripping folds. The second option sounds infinitely more appealing, he thinks.

You mumble out a drunken apology and adjust your grip. After a few strokes and vibrations of him groaning against your lower half, you finally find the courage to consume his impressive size. Your lips wrap itself around his head and Rin is doing everything that he can to not shove the entirety of his cock down your hot, welcoming tunnel. The combination of your crazed moans and juices are like honey in his throat and it drives him insane. The swirling from your tongue around his tip and your bobbing head movements send his hands to grasp each side of your ass, he whines and kneads against the soft fat.

"Fuck," Rin knows he shouldn't buck his hips into you, especially since you look like you're still struggling with his length, but it feels too good for it to go unnoticed. "Don't stop, do that again."

You let out a hum against his head in response, sending static shock to his legs, and repeat the process again. Rin chooses not to hold back his moans, not when you're both figuring out each other's bodies for the first time, and he allows the heavy fog in his vision to swallow him whole. His fingers dig deep into the flesh of your ass and grinds your hips back and forth on his mouth, making sure that your hood rubs against the tip of his nose for added pleasure. A minute passes and Rin feels the pressure building faster than he can even warn you.

"Baby, I—" He gasps out, the knot quickly comes undone in his stomach and unintentionally releases in multiple spurts into your mouth. Rin feels you choke in response, and knows that the load is way more than what he usually produces. His head rolls deep into the pillow and cries out a moan when you attempt to swallow with his overly sensitive cock still between your lips.

You pop his wet length from your now sore jaw and laugh weakly, "So that's what semen tastes like."

Rin grunts and proceeds to flip your body onto the bed, earning a loud yelp from you, "Still need to finish you off." He slips between your legs, resting his mouth on top of your wet mound, and sucks off the remaining slick through the mesh fabric. You almost clamp your thighs together from the sensitivity but his arms stop your actions.

Your hands grab at the bedsheets, knuckles turning white from the obvious burning sensation slowly building up in your stomach as his mouth makes its way over to focus solely on your itching nub. You feel him tugging the fabric to the side and you immediately release a loud mew, curling your back against the mattress when his fingers feel their way inside your mushy entrance and pumping in all the right angles from before.

Encouraged by your response, he speeds up his pace and feels your tightness form as you writhe under his touch. Rin soon notices that your body has gotten too tense, knowing the struggle that you've caught yourself in as tears threaten to escape from your eyes. He pauses his fingers inside and coos, "I want you to look at me as you cum. Can you cum for me?"

You say nothing but your insides couldn't help but to pulse against his fingers after hearing his daring words. He takes that as approval and resumes his speed, mouth latching back to its original position but this time his half-lidded eyes don't falter from yours. Hands fly to tear skin at the broad shoulders beneath as you breathe out his name in ecstasy. Soon you're scrambling against him, lifting your hips from the wet mattress over his fingertips and face, wanting more, and Rin realizes that you're stumbling through a messy, hard-fought orgasm that he's completely responsible for causing. The juices spilling from your sobbing canal leaves him fuzzy and ransacked as he struggles to consume them.

He gets up, wipes his slick-covered mouth, and watches your chest heave from a mix of exhaustion and pleasure, "I'll be right back."

Your vision is blurry, to say the least, but you make out the subtle lighting turning on in the background, the sounds of a faucet running, and then the touch of your gentle husband as he makes brief dabs with a towel against your nether regions. You groan at the contact.

"Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, voice barely there, "Just a bit sore, it was really intense."

A chuckle rolls off his lips that send flutters to your already pounding chest. Rin feels his lips twist into a smile that matches yours, unable to fight off the feelings of warm affection that bloom deep in him as you stare deep into his gaze. He bends down, planting a chaste kiss on your sweat-ridden forehead while undoing the strings of the laced bodysuit. "I'm sorry, let's get you out of this thing and clean up, okay?"

You run your body under the rush of the warm water in the shower, cheeks flushed and mind still processing the fresh events. A negative creeping thought gnaws against your skull, saying that maybe he'll sleep in his room again but that dissipates when you hear him entering the bathroom. You see your naked husband looking at the ground through the translucent curtains, almost in a shy manner, completely forgetting the fact that he dominated you just moments ago, and whispers, "Do you mind if I join you?"

It's your turn to laugh this time, "The shower you mean? Yea, you can."

"Mhm," He brushes the curtains away and steps behind you, hands grabbing your waist and pulling your bodies closer, "I meant for the night."

Suddenly, you find yourself smiling wide, it was infectious and silly, like you had just won a prize at the carnival fair. You melt against his chest and peer up into his sharp teal eyes, "Thought you'd never ask."

TAGLIST

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#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock smut #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #bllk smut #i can make your bed rock - rin itoshi #guys seggs is gonna be in the final chap who is excited #not me bc im the one who has to write it but #im feeding yall - a whole army #so i can take some pride in that

[prettyboykatsuki]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SHARPEN YOUR TEETH (AND BITE AS HARD AS YOU WANT) | WYLL RAVENGARD

☾ tags ; SPOILERS FOR ACT ONE AND TWO OF BG3, gn + afab!reader, werewolf!reader, selunite cleric!reader developing relationship, canon typical violence, mild gore / blood, mutual pining, heat cycles, scent kink, oral (f + m!recieving), unprotected sex, praise kink, petnames (starlight, my love, my heart), lots of referring to reader as a dog / mutt / puppy, messy sex, reader has body hair / pubic hair, soft top wyll, a single pregnancy joke, 18+ MDNI

☾ wc ; 21.8k (????)

☾ a/n ; h...hello wyll nation. local deranged man here to offer this politely and run away. i dont really know what happened here. this was really just meant to be porn about a scent kink and uhm. well

i dont know if i wrote this fic as much as it used my physical vessel as a way to escape. it just sort of occured. im rarely nervous to post fic for a character but this is my first time doing a real wyll fic and bg3 fandom as many people i respect. so please be kind.

anyways. the embracing of monstrosity vs the rejection of it. so on and so forth. hope u enjoy. also banner is from slime isekai anime.

☾ synopsis ; there's a werewolf at camp. nothing new. wyll is growing increasingly fond of them. very new.

ao3 link for reading | spotify playlist.

The violent tearing sounds of teeth ripping through the flesh pulse and echo through the night air. 

Blood sprays onto the furred creature responsible for it. All else grinds to a halt, the gnats and fireflies silent in awe as sharp claws crush through bone. Wyll can hear the sound of his own blood pumping as his eyes watch the massacre, hand drawn on his rapier. He looks over through the rest of his party 

They remain just as awestruck. Astarion stands breathlessly. Shadowheart slinks into her namesake, eyes closed and trembling in the dark. 

But Wyll watches, eyes fixed on the bloodshed. On the violence. The realization dawns on him too late that one of his party members is missing. You’re missing. He stares back at the creature, underneath the moon - silently slaughtering every last of their opposition until the battle field is left in a field of crimson. Death plagues every inch of dirt to the naked eye. 

A whimper sounds. Followed by the sound of skin and bones retracting and moving back into place. 

Where a werewolf once was is your naked form. Sat on your knees and bent over your body with tears at the corners of your eyes. Just your ears and tail remain, your mouth and hands covered in a thick layer of blood. You sniffle, the only light left to illuminate you ritual candles and moon as you turn your head back to your party. 

“Uhm,” Your voice is coarse, thick with exhaustion and tears. Wyll stares at you in awestruck silence “We should probably talk.” 

_ 

“So,” Gale’s voice and the obvious exasperation in it is enough to make Wyll feel sorry for you. You’re sitting at the campfire, finally clothed - with a blanket around your shoulder and Astarion tending to your wounds. “We have a Sharran, a vampire spawn, a werewolf, and a githyanki. Anything else we need to check off before we apply for a tent at the circus?” 

Karlach takes the empty seat next to you, wanting to wrap her hand around the fluffy base of your tail and frowning when she realizes she can’t. Your ears are folded down, the corners of your eyes still wet with tears. You lean into Karlach’s heat, just enough to feel it. 

 The air is cool, thick with the scent of dirt and smoke. The campfire licks with light flames, surrounded by half cut logs for extra seating. You, Astarion, and Karlach crowd on a single half - draped with an extra bedroll for cushion. 

“Don’t be so harsh on them, Gale,” Karlach says, glancing over at you “It’s hardly like they’re a threat to us. I mean.. look at them.” 

Your frown deepens as you hang your head in shame. 

“I thought we were past this, no? I mean we’ve all already been honest with each other so far. It’s a little late to be keeping something like this a secret is it not?” 

“That’s true,” Wyll interjects, standing next to Gale across from the three of you - staring at your curled up form with sympathy. “I really don’t understand why you hid it for this long. Surely, you could’ve told us earlier?” 

Your voice is weak and unusually frail. “The opportunity never presented itself.” 

“You could have mentioned it when Astarion told us he was a vampire?” Wyll suggests. 

“I didn’t want to steal his thunder, you know? Felt a bit rude, really.” 

Astarion laughs, clearly wanting to laugh himself into hysterics but having enough tact not to do so. “Not a thing in that head of yours aside from our parasite, is there darling? But you know, I’m quite delighted by this revelation.

“Really?” 

“Now we’ve got two monsters at our camp as opposed to just one! Evens out the playing field, in case things go south.” 

“I’m not a monster,” You murmur, pouting. “And I don’t think you are either, for the record. I’m just a shifter. And my goddess is kind.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” Gale asks somewhat bitterly.

“Selune,” Shadowheart pipes up this time, for the first time since your arrival back to camp. Emerges from her own tent in the corner like a ghost. Her arms are crossed, brows pinched into a tight face of displeasure “She has a network of werewolves in her ranks. You’re one of them, aren’t you?” 

You look up at her saddened, like a kicked puppy for lack of a better word, casting your gaze away from hers. Shadowheart looks ferocious, her appearance locked onto your pitiful form with a familiar angry smolder. Wyll can’t decide if you’ve done anything so grand as to earn her ire, even if you’re a Selunite werewolf. Though, given all that Wyll knows about her, that may as well be the greatest sin of all.

Your voice is tiny and high-pitched as you play with your hands in your lap “I didn’t intend to hide it from you but y-yes. I don’t bear any hatred towards you or other Shar followers, but uhm, well, I didn’t think you’d be very happy about it. A-and then, well you know, back in the grove you mentioned you hated wolves so, I just… planned on never shifting.” 

“You have control over something like that?” Wyll inquires. You nod, not looking up at him. 

“I was born as a werewolf, not turned. So the moon doesn’t affect me in the same way it would someone who was turned and I have more control over when it happens. I can shift in and out. Usually no problem but when I’m caught off guard like that,” You lift your tail and swing it from side to side as if to emphasize the point “Sometimes I mess it up.” 

“Chk. What a waste of ability. Think of how many we would’ve slaughtered had we known from the start.”

Wyll looks around. Everyone has gathered now, standing around the fire. 

“A werewolf… I know little of them. Wild shape magic is vastly different. I hope your condition does not cause you too much trouble. Or us, for that matter.” Halsin adds apologetically. 

“I didn’t intend for it to come out this way,,” You mumble pitifully. Shit, he really can’t help but feel bad. “I really did fully plan on keeping it to myself until the end. But, well, we were desperate. And I didn’t want to see anyone die,” 

“Given our circumstances, I think it would be amiss to scold you for your bravery,” Wyll supplements, trying to ease your worries. He does mean it. Regardless of what happened, you did save everyone. “Plus, we’ve all kept secrets here.” 

“Exactly right, soldier. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” 

“Wow, what sort of double standard is this? When I came out as a vampire, you people couldn’t stop talking about how afraid you were I was going to bite you!” Astarion says with an exaggerated frown. You smile at him weakly. 

Wyll gives him a disbelieving look. “Well you’re not exactly subtle about wanting to suck our blood, are you Astarion?” 

Astarion huffs. “Everyone here is so unfair.” 

Wyll laughs goodnaturedly, his eyes turning back onto you. He examines you in silent thought, his mind sifting over your last few months together. 

After Gale gets over his initial frustration, his curiosity gets the better of him. He rejoins everyone—across from you on an empty log and Wyll joins along with them. Shadowheart and Lae-zel come too, as does Halsin. 

Around the campfire, Gale pulls a book and quill from his tent before making himself comfortable. 

“Well since we’ve all made up, I am a little curious about your condition.” He admits. A very Gale thing to do, Wyll thinks. 

“I don’t mind any questions.” You reply gently. “It’s the least I can do.” 

The whole camp softens at your display. Surprisingly, Shadowheart is the first to ask a question.

“Is it more comfortable for you…in your wolf form?” 

You seem taken aback.. Though it dawns on you quickly why she would be asking that specifically. 

“Ah, kind of? My humanoid form is also me but it feels… limiting at times.” 

“Limiting?” 

“Eating meat without my  canines is a pain in my ass. Same with not being able to express myself with my ears or tail. I like traveling on my paws depending on the terrain.” You say, shaking your head. “It doesn’t bother me though mostly,” 

Gale’s quill hitting the paper makes a loud scratching sound. Astarion has a snarky comment about it that Wyll misses. He’s too preoccupied with other things. 

Hoping that you don't feel too badly about all this, for example. 

“Does it affect your daily life in any way?”  

“I don’t think so? I don’t know. It’s always been like this, so there’s nothing that different to me. I do notice how different I am around humans maybe,” You say, before perking up. You’ve just remembered something important. “Oh, but there is one thing.” 

“What is it?” Wyll asks. 

“My senses are much much sharper than other peoples. My sense of smell, especially.”

___ 

You remain together. Despite the mess.  Somehow. 

With this parasite in mind, and nothing left to lose - it’s better to stay together. Now that there are no important secrets kept hidden, the vibe is much more relaxed. The impending doom adds a layer of familiarity too. Wyll has often traveled with bands of strangers, but never for so long and with so many. 

It gives him a sense of familiarity. Home. What a foreign word. 

He thinks a lot of it is your contribution. They’re your pack, as you say so often. A special one with lots of different sorts of people. And you - you’re loyal to a fault. It helps. You and Karlach are a lot alike, but Wyll would venture to call you a little more tender. It helps fill in the gaps. 

Wyll knows you’re a werewolf but it’s hard not to think of you as a dog in that sense. A different dog to Scratch, maybe. But a dog all the same - with folded ears and a softail and propensity for drooling depending on the way you sleep. 

He’s only really reminded of the fact that you’re part wolf when you use your abilities in battles. It’s your failsafe. You only do it when you think it’s dire, and before that you air on the side of diplomacy. You’re a hunter should the need arise though. Sometimes you don’t transform completely. Where your usual canines are meant to linger in your mouth are a set of teeth too big for it. Instead of hands, sometimes there are soft paws with sharpened nails. 

There are three ways you can transform for that matter. Human, werewolf, or just wolf. Wyll finds these little distinctions fascinating, and more fascinating that you tend to opt for one end of the spectrum or the other. 

Wyll quickly learns some of your physical attributes are the same irregardless of what you look like. The fact you are agile and quick and strong, or the fact you can travel fast on all fours. The fact you like meat, and the fact you whine rather loudly when you’re upset. 

When you’re using your abilities, many would think you a ruthless killer. 

But after everyones cleared from harm, you’ll transform back into your usual human self - naked and covered in blood and frowning. You spit up meat that tastes bad and whine loudly if no one tells you good job.

(That job often falls on Wyll or Shadowheart. Gale or Karlach if they’re traveling with you. Astarion is only kind enough to do it in a semi-mocking way, but Wyll is keenly aware of how sincere his praise can be.) 

In moments like that, you’re just a dog again. A puppy, sometimes. Loyal. And novel, and interesting for many reasons. 

Wyll should expect your loyalty by now. He sees it so often, how unyielding and faithful you always are. To your goddess and to your pack and to whatever else you’ve deemed important to you. 

He should’ve known that you’d probably try to seek him out tonight, after everything that’s happened among all of you. 

He did watch you for a bit at the start. You worked clockwise through all of your companions, stopped in between for stories and gossip. Some of the tiefling kids wanted to see your tail and you’re too good a spirit to tell them no.

Wyll wouldn’t dare hope for you finding him, but he is a little relieved when you do. 

“Wyll! There you are,” 

 Wyll’s eyes snap up.

“Ah, Hells. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone,” He says regretfully. 

“Of course I noticed! How could I not notice our very own warlock disappear? It was no party without you.” 

Wyll wonders if you’re being sincere. He hopes you are. The night air is cool as the two of you share space. Away from the party, only sand and rubble between your feet. And a body of water that looks like it could go on forever. 

It’s a full moon tonight. 

“Really? I’m honored,” He peers out into the lake. Suddenly aware of his body, Wyll recoils into himself. The movement is subtle enough to be overlooked. The horns on the top of his head feel especially heavy. The skin pulled around the base of them throbs. It’s not painful, but it is unpleasant. “In truth, I don’t feel a festive mood and I didn’t want to cast a gray cloud over the night.” 

“Is it too intrusive for me to ask?” 

“Not at all,” Wyll assures. Your words are comfortable and soft, concerned without being pitiful. “I’m a devil. I love the people of the grove, but I unsettle them deep down. As I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays.” 

Wyll can hear his own somber. He doesn’t wince, but it's impossible to ignore. Even explaining himself only adds to his melancholy. He’s quiet for a while, his voice touched with a destitution and irony. And bitterness, maybe. 

You remain still and steady beside him. He can’t tear his gaze away from the endless water, comforted by its vastness. How it generally disregards him and distorts his reflection.

“You don’t want a devil at your party. Horns this sharp will pop the balloons you see. And the guests won’t take kindly to scars quite so monstrous.” He jokes, trying to keep his voice light. 

He doesn’t think he succeeds at it. 

Silence once more. Wyll can see you, but your expression is unchanged. Your eyes are clear underneath the ever changing moon. 

“You don’t unsettle me. You never have.” There’s conviction behind your words. They comfort him.

“If only half the world had half the heart you do.” Wyll tells you, and means every word. He tries to brighten up, waving you off. “Don’t let my introspection spoil your night. Off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.” 

He hopes it’s enough to get you to forget about him for tonight. 

When you walk off, Wyll is expecting you to disappear. It’s enough that you’ve checked on him. He would’ve been content with it, left to reflect on his troubles alone. You’ve done something significant with your reassurance. He isn’t so tactless to keep you from celebrating. even when he would maybe want more time with you. 

You return to him though. With a bottle of wine, and a bedroll you spread in the empty sand next to him. You give him an unreadable look followed by a cheeky smile, making yourself comfortable on the ground. 

“Come on. Sit.”

Confused, Wyll sits. You open the bottle of wine with your teeth as a cork and drink from the top before passing it over to him. He takes it from you and stares at the place you’ve just drank from. You start to talk while he debates mimicking you.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s less difficult than it is,” You say almost thoughtlessly. Almost. “You’ve lost your body. Yourself. That must be hard.” 

Wyll looks at you, then back at the colored glass of the bottle. He clears his throat. “It is. More than I imagined it to be.” 

“You know, I was born a werewolf. And I had just about the best circumstances a person could have with that in mind. Selune accepts me and my clergy was mostly kind. Still, I heard the word monster a lot from people outside my circle. I could feel the distrust that I incited in outsiders. So, I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through,” You say, your legs stretched out far into the sand, past the confinement of a tiny square bedroll “But I do know what it’s like to feel accused when you’ve done nothing wrong. You especially, Blade of Frontiers. I think you’re allowed to grieve the trust it feels like you’ve lost, or might lose. If it’s worth anything, though, I know you’re not a monster.” 

Wyll barely gets a chance to process the words as they come. He wonders if this is what people mean by feeling seen by someone else. “You know?” 

“Damn right I know,” Your response comes without hesitation. The night air blows along his skin, a soft and tender caress. Wyll frowns when you don't elaborate.

“How could you know something like that?” He asks.

“Lotsa reasons. You’re still nice and thoughtful and caring and charming. But, hm, well the most obvious reason is a little more primitive.” You take a deep inhale. “Your scent,” 

“...I’m sorry?” 

Your laugh is bright, and bubbly. 

“Your scent,” You repeat calmly, taking a deep sigh after saying it. “Everyone at camp has a scent. It’s a little abstract, but they change when people change. Shadowheart smells the leaves of black currant and uh, Halsin smells like sequoia wood. Lae’zel smells like black tea and metal. Gale smells like licorice. Astarion smells a lot like applemint. Karlach smells like smoke and star anise,” 

Wyll finds himself both awestruck and amused.

“These are all rather specific,” 

“I’ve always been a bit of a bloodhound so I’ve developed a talent at identifying specifics. It was shitty when I was a runt. Even a trip outside could give me the worst fuckin’ headache, but it got better the more I got used to it.” You give Wyll a glance “Anyways. Scent changes. When someone changes, their scent does too. Moods and days and everything affect it too.” 

“And mine hasn’t changed, is what you’re saying?” 

“No. Not in the way that’d make you different. It’s stronger, but it hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed.” You say quietly, and take a deep breath. “Not to me at least.” 

“You’ve conveniently left out my scent from your description.” Wyll says with fond amusement. He feels reassured. It’s absurd, yet Wyll is so inclined to believe you. “Is it something so awful?” 

You flush, suddenly becoming timid. 

“Yours is… good,” You say simply, and softly. You seem embarrassed to continue. He can’t help but find it so incredibly endearing. “It’s just harder for me to describe. But it’s good. It’s personally my favorite. “ 

You add the last part a little quieter. 

“And it hasn’t changed,” Wyll says more than asks this time. 

“No. Stronger, but the same.” You curl in on yourself, crossing your legs as you turn your head to face him, head tilted towards one side with a smile. “You’re not a devil to me. Just Wyll. And I like just Wyll.”

Wyll feels his chest tight as you lean your head on your shoulder contentedly. He tries not to read it into, hoping you can’t hear how loudly his heart is pounding. He takes a drink from the wine bottle straight, the same place your lips touched moments ago. 

He likes you, too. The words don’t come out right. 

“Yes…I’m,” He’s speechless, hands folded in his lap as he stares at you. “Me too. Our journey together has proved important to me. Thank you.” 

You smile but don’t say anything more.

___

With the goblin camp clear, the journey towards the Shadowfell lands becomes increasingly pervasive. You’ve done more traveling and less resting in the last few weeks than you have thus far in your journey. 

Smoke clouds in the horizon are what draw you to Waukeens rest. 

On your way to the mountain pass, for easy access to the city, lay a massacre of bodies and fire. The distress has far from subsided. The thick smog continues to build, folds into itself like massive heaps of wool - suffocating everything on every path in its surroundings. The smell of ash is invasive, even from a fair distance away. 

Blood trails from one end of the path towards the main entrance. As your party’s distance begins to close in, Wyll feels his lungs fill up with a familiar tightness. The burning air makes his eyes and lungs sting.

“Shit, the fire is still burning. There must still be people in need of aid. We should,” You cough hard as you look at what's in front of you. Eyes squinted trying to make out the horizon. “We should get there and see if we can aid them,” 

Astarion groans “For just one day, could we rest? Leave this nonsense up to the other wandering travelers desperate for recognition? Is that asking so much?” 

“As long as I’m pinning down bodies for you to feed off, you’ve got to listen to me, you know? You laugh warmly at his sarcasm. “Now, If you don’t stop complaining you’ll fall behind, pretty boy, and there’ll be not a thing left for you to suck dry.” 

“I should report you for that, you know. Threats of starvation against the imprisoned violate the law,” 

You laugh a little as you start to make your way forward. The four of you jog towards the entrance of Waukeens rest with urgency, more yours and Wyll’s than Astarion’s and Shadowheart’s.

Among the scenery at the front entrance of Waukeens rest - what concerns Wyll most is not the death. Not the bodies ashen among flame or the flames themselves that continue to widen and encompass. It is that, among those bodies, are members of the Flaming Fist. Past the sour memory of his life comes the worry, the fear. 

What in the Hells are the Flaming Fist doing around this area?

Away from the woman praying over a body, are a small number of Fist’s pushing on the doorway of a locked and burning building. You’re quick to run to it. Wyll barely keeps up. 

Before you can ask about the situation at hand, a Flaming Fist member addresses you and your party. 

“Grand Duke Ravengard could be inside, don’t just stand there - push!” 

Wyll’s voice betrays him, speaking before he has a minute to think. “Ravengard? He’s here?” 

“Yes, now make yourself useful- push, damn it, push!”

Wordlessly from next to him, you gear yourself up and push kick the door in. Strong enough that the wood crumbles to nothing, Wyll watches the doors open wide and the flames that lick at the inside of the building. A cloud of smoke billows out as the Flaming Fist pour in, your party quick to follow in alongside them. 

Through the thickets of smoke and up stairs half-broken, sounds Counselor Florrick's voice from behind the broken door. Maneuvering through ember and broken floorboard, you proceed the same as you did before. Pushing through the crowd of people surrounding the door - you use your foot and kick the door in again, causing it to break nearly instantly. 

Counselor Florrick coughs as she makes her way outside.

“Come. I’m afraid proper thanks must wait,” She says with a heaved breath. It’s too clouded with smoke for Wyll to make anything of her face and Wyll can only assume that is the case both ways. 

Back down through the way you came, you take a deep inhale of smoke and cough. The scent must be nauseating, far too much for you - but you don’t let it show through your face. 

Once everyone has been accounted for outside, Counselor Florrick approaches your party in the broad daylight of the courtyard. It’s there she recognizes Wyll. 

“Hold on,” Wyll says, reaching into his pack. He hands you a sachet of herbs he’d purchased alongside you from a merchant in the goblin camp. “For your nose,” 

You give him a look of surprise, your ears perking up and tails swishing as you take it from him gratefully, holding it up to your nose for a deep breath. 

“Fuck, thank you.” You reply gratefully. Wyll nods in reply.

“Counsellor Florrick - are you alright?” Wyll says first, concern pouring through. Regardless of all else. 

It’s clear right away, the horror in his face once she’s seen what’s become of him. Wyll lets it roll off of his back, the momentary sting not enough to make him flinch. It’s a reminder to start adjusting to what will be one of many. 

Her sympathy is tangible, though it doesn’t make Wyll feel better. 

“Wyll - by the Maimed God, what’s become of you?” 

He shakes his head to dismiss the thought.  “A story best left for calmer days. Now breathe deeply, are you in pain?”

“A scorched throat, a few hairs singed off. Nothing a bit of time and fresh air can’t cure.” 

Wyll’s shoulder sag with relief.  She turns to address the Flaming Fist accompanying her. 

“Gauntlet, a new duty calls. Drow have taken Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard - westward if my eyes and ears can be believed.” She pauses, thinking before giving further instruction “Report to the manip and send for reinforcements. We must find the Grand Duke.” 

“On your command, Counsellor.” The head of the Gauntlet affirms, bowing their head before taking off. 

It’s there that Wyll feels panic. Uncertainty like nothing he’s felt in the last seven years. Maybe longer. No longer a passing thought or a sour memory, concern for his father washes out what might’ve been grief.

“No. It can’t be. You mean, they’ve taken -” 

Counselor Florrick's expression darkens. “Yes, Wyll. The drow have your father.” 

“Shit, what? Wyll, you’re a noble?” You interject for the first time in the conversation. When Wyll turns to you, above all else is concern. He shakes his head.

“The circumstances of my birth are no matter of pride for neither me nor my father. But pride is no reason to refuse help to my own flesh and blood. How can we help?.” 

“Rescue Ravengard from his drow captors. Baldur's Gate needs him, now more than ever,” She says, addressing you primarily and Wyll after. She pauses to examine Wyll a second time, like now that she’s out of the smoke she is really looking. 

A passing glance of her brings back memories of a childhood long forgotten. Days spent in courtyards training the sword and waiting for father to finish his duties. An ache starts to form in the cavity of his chest, but Wyll swallows it. 

Where duty calls, it is only common sense the Blade will answer. He holds a fist over his heart and bows. 

“Trust us to see it through, Counsellor.” 

“Who is this Duke Ravengard?” You ask, finally - though it’s not to him. Rather it’s to the Counselor. Wyll wonders if that’s a choice you’ve made on purpose. 

“The invisible force holding Baldur’s Gate together. Without him, the city’s collapse is certain.” She pauses, looking troubled “I fear that may have been the intention of those who abducted him.” 

“Shit. Then, not to be rude, but why entrust this to me? You have others at your command. More well equipped, I’d imagine,” You ask, bearing no hostility. A fair enough question for you, head of pack, with concerns for everyone else. 

“Isn’t it clear? You travel with the Blade of Frontiers. Who might I trust, if not a legend? Who might rise to the moment, if not Ravengard’s own son?”

You pause to mull over her reply. Your brow is furrowed in concentration, before your focus returns to the Counselor.

“I don’t think the drow have taken him back to Menzoberranzan. More likely they’ve taken the Duke to Moonrise Towers.”  You say tentatively. “Though Hells, I can’t be sure. Goblin’s bein’ here is weird and their affairs are tied together somehow. Plus, the drow we’ve met in this area so far have relations to other cultist bullshit,” 

“I was thinking the same,” Wyll adds. 

“Moonrise Towers? Along the old road? That place is cursed, few could survive there…unless darker forces are at work,” She pauses, taking a moment to assess the situation “This was no random attack, then. The Grand Duke was their target.” 

After more deliberating, you look firmly at the Counselor and nod - a serious promise. 

“Moonmaiden guide us - we’ll head to Moonrise towers and find Duke Ravengard. Though for now, I won’t promise  anything.” 

“Thank you. When the Grand Duke returns to the city, he’ll hail his only son a hero.” She says with a deep breath “Approach the towers with care. The land itself has been swallowed in shadow.”

She turns to address him this time “Remember Wyll. ‘Courage is found in the battle against fear, not in the defeat of it.’”

“So father said. I won’t soon forget it.”

“We’ll be heading off now, towards the towers. Take care of yourself.” 

“You too, Counselor Florrick.” 

With that, the Florrick disappears back out into the smoke and open road. Left in the aftermath is the rest of the party, not barring you - and Wyll with nothing but worry. 

Your eyes find Wyll’s with ease, filled to the brim with concern. Wyll casts his gaze away instinctively. 

“Shit,” Wyll swears, unsure of what the reaction from you will be.

“Wyll,” Your voice calls and soothes. Before his response forms in his mouth, he feels a hand on the nape of his neck. In a sudden movement, you lean into him. Even amongst the swallowing heat of fire and ember - Wyll is conscious of your skin. The scrapes and cuts on your fingers raised press against his own. You inhale a long breath and Wyll realizes what you’re doing. It’s confirmation when you pull away and glance at him seriously. “Can I trust you to tell me what’s going on?” 

The question itself is exposing. It’s a raw nerve, split open, tender and unhealed. There’s no shame in it. Or maybe there is, always has been - and Wyll has spent nearly seven years outrunning it. This much he knows - he never intended to show you this part of himself.

And he knows that this is not the first time he’s betrayed your trust. You ask Wyll to trust you, and Wyll wants to explain he always has. 

There is no betrayal in your face, no disappointment.

You come to him ready to receive anything. Crystal clear eyes and a sincerity in your heart - there is so much said in so little. 

“I’m sorry. It was never,” He’s struck by grief in a sudden moment. You’re kind, but it goes well beyond just that. “I had no intent to hide it.” 

“But you had no intent to share it either,” You say, your voice soft-spoken and tender. Forgiving, though you don’t make Wyll feel like there’s something he needs forgiveness for. “It’s okay. We’re damn similar sometimes aren't we?” 

When you let go of Wyll, he stares at you. Wide-mouthed and unsure of himself. For a brief moment, his surroundings become blurry. There’s no one else in the party. There’s no smoke. There’s no fire. No ash. For a brief moment, there’s just you - and you’re smiling.  You feel like forgiveness. 

“Florrick spoke true,” Wyll affirms, unsure of what to do with himself. “I am a Grand Duke’s son.” 

“Not just a grand duke - Ravengard has more power and influence than anyone.” Astarion adds. 

“My father and I were close. Once upon a time. Until he disowned me and cast me out of Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll says with a hardened heart. He’s forgiven his father. He’s spent years rationalizing the choice he made. But he’s reminded in an instant that the wound is still tender. “I can’t tell you more - the pact forbids it. My lips are quite literally sealed.” 

“Okay,” You give Wyll a look, clear and bright. “Then, Wyll - do you want to save your father?” 

He wasn’t expecting that to be your only question. It must show that he’s taken aback, but you remain where you are unflinching. 

“Yes, I—yes. Regardless of our relationship, he remains my flesh and blood.” You press your lips together, an encouraging half smile, prompting him. “And I don’t want him to fall into the hands of Absolutists for any reason. He made me an exile, but I’m not about to let him suffer at the hands of his captors.”

“Alright. Then we’ll save him,” You brush over the weight of that sentence, addressing your other companions. “The only lead we’ve got so far is Moonrise towers, so we’ll stick to our original plans. Visiting the creche and then traveling through the Underdark.” 

Wyll stares at you as you continue to talk, the words feeling like little more than noise. Lost in thought, you let him remain undisturbed. When your eyes meet, you don’t do anything more than grin - fang poking out form underneath your lip. 

And it’s the second time in his life, Wyll feels like you’re seeing something he can’t. Himself, maybe.

__ 

A confrontation with the githyanki and a red dragon later, you return to camp the night of visiting Waukeen’s rest.

When night falls, you join Wyll in his tent. The gesture is innocent. You ask about having a sleepover. Wyll tries to remember there’s nothing but friendship between you. Eventually helets you into the cramped space of his tent. There’s barely enough space for you both, but you manage.

Before bed, you ask Wyll to tell you about himself. Anything he can afford to tell you. For a long while, he talks about being the Blade of Frontiers. But then, when it’s late enough and the gap between you continues to shrink - he talks about his life in the city. It doesn’t happen on purpose. Wyll is hardly so ungentlemanly. It’s unlike him to cluelessly go on and on about himself. 

You just happen to know exactly the right questions. Before Wyll knows it, he’s telling you about all of his escapades. His life as a nobleman's son and escaping to fraternize with lower city youth.

Wyll can’t disclose his pact to you, but he can tell you about the kiss he had at fifteen. He can tell you about the first time he lost a tooth, or describe the well-worn picture of his late mother in his fathers wallet. For a while, Wyll recounts tales of a life he’d thought he’d abandoned. When the words come out, they don’t feel like violence. Don’t coat his mouth with the bitter taste of iron. Instead they taste light like memories, and come out just as soft. 

He doesn’t remember when either of you drift off to sleep. 

When morning comes and Wyll finds you still in his tent, he feels the ability to claim plausible deniability drift away from him. 

You mean more to him than he thought. The moment passes to tell you. 

___ 

The journey to the Underdark is never an easy one. 

Underneath the desecrated Selune temple was the beaten path. A long ladder down through a broken Selunite outpost. Not only have you all fought a spectator, a bullete, several hook horrors and an entire beach of duegars - you’ve just slaughtered an Absolutist leader with your bare hands. 

The remaining duegar have fled the scene after a night to recover, leaving Nere’s body for the lot of you to loot. The gnomes have gone too. Wyll tries to hold confidence all of them will make it in one piece. 

The Sovereign had made his request clear, slaughter Nere and bring his head. Wyll has watched you kill and devour several bodies in your time together, but there’s something novel about watching you do it now. A knife, pulled out from your sheath - sharp as it cuts and saws through the flesh. It’s a clean, precise slice. Nothing like you, Wyll thinks fondly. 

He can surmise that it’s because you’re rather fond of the myconid colony. They’re kind to you and you are always fond of those who are kind. In that way you’re easy to appease. But he didn’t know you were capable of this level of care. You tend to be matted and ruddy. Generally messy. 

Wyll likes you that way. 

The head comes off the body unceremoniously. You wrap a cloth underneath the bottom, and tuck it in your pack along some cubes of ice you had Gale make you with magic that morning. 

Wyll only sees the outline of your back. He watches as you stretch your palms out and examine them for blood. When you find none, you turn around with a little tired sigh.

Promptly, you prop yourself onto Shadowheart. Your ear and tails have made a reappearance, your chin resting on her shoulder. 

“I'm tiiiiiiiiired,” You whine, long and drawn out. Your teeth stick out from your lips when you pout, Wyll notices. The heat of the forge and all of the surrounding lava have your skin sticky with sweat. The deep purple of the destroyed Sharran enclave feels out of place among the fires “I don’t want to go to the Shadowfell lands. I won’t. You can’t make me,” 

You’ve picked up a habit of being touchy. You tend to cling to Shadowheart, which Wyll finds ironic. Even with her cold exterior, the half-elf doesn’t push you off when you hug or pester her. You make promises to Karlach you’ll join her for it once her engines all fixed. Lae’zel finds it pointless. Halsin doesn’t mind, and likes to turn into a bear so all the furry creatures at camp can turn into big pile. 

Gale also doesn’t mind, but the wizard usually airs on the side of embarrassment - a faint blush crawling over him whenever you wrap yourself thoughtlessly about him. Astarion pretends to reject it, but willingly pets and scratches you when he feels less combative. Something you happily recieve.

And Wyll… well, it doesn’t bother him. You approach him often enough, and he’d be hard-pressed on a reason to reject you. 

(He ignores the way your touch seems to linger, unsure if he’s seeing things that don’t belong. Wyll is fond of you. Your heart is good - he thinks of you often  but he isn’t so sure that means something. Well it means plenty to him, but what of you? 

You like the sensation of physical affection, he reminds himself Nevermind the times you’ve fallen asleep as a wolf in his lap. Nevermind the occasional naps in his tent, or whines when he’s too busy to pay you mind.)

“You’re not ferocious at all, do you know? More like a drooling mutt than a werewolf,” Shadowheart huffs sarcastically. 

“What I lack in ferocity I make up for in vigor.” You reply with a hum, rubbing your cheek against Shadowheart’s shoulder. “And the situation doesn’t spark any vigor in me. We’ve already been underground this long and next we’re going somewhere even darker.” 

Astarion pipes up, sitting criss-cross onto the marbled floor in one of the few spots free of blood, sorting through his varied belongings and trinkets. “I would figure werewolves and vampires share their love for the darkness, no?” 

“We can’t see the moon well from either place. I need to see the moon to track some things related to my form. I count the phases in my head but if I don’t see it for too long - I start getting homesick like a man at sea.” You whine and huff again, this time peeling yourself off of Shadowheart and throwing yourself onto Wyll. 

He steadies himself enough not to topple over by your strength and weight as you drape yourself across his back. You nuzzle your cheek against him tenderly. It’s different to how you do it to Shadowheart or Astarion (when he’s not adamantly pushing you away.) It’s more tender, closer. Your nose brushes against the nape of his neck. Wyll doesn’t flinch, even at the warmth of your breath. You inhale again and Wyll can hear the swish of your tail.

He pretends to be ignorant of it and doesn’t push you away - instead laughing lightly. 

“Oh, Moonmaiden - let your moon be my light, and I shall let my sword be your shining symbol.” You  recite with a sigh. The words reverberate along his skin.  “Moon my love, you are terribly missed.” 

“Keep your Selunite prayer out of my ears, would you?” 

“Don’t be so moody, my cold blooded Sharran. Our Lady of SIlver is a kind and accepting goddess, so her blessing will extend even to you.” 

Shadowheart crinkles her nose. You laugh noisily next to Wyll’s ear. He smiles softly.

“After we’ve delivered the head to the Sovereign, we can travel back overhead before going into the Shadowfell. That way, you’ve had some time with the moon and we’re able to get in more rest before taking it on,” 

You pull away from him now, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around with a laugh. Wyll looks at you wide-eyed as you grin at him, knocking your foreheads together innocently.

“Ah, what a great idea! If everyone else is on board, then let’s make our way to the Sovereign now and recoup on the surface. We’ll return to Grymforge come mornin’ and head off that way. Is everyone on board with that?” 

You look around for affirmation before resting your gaze on Wyll with a smile. 

Wyll feels his heart tug slightly, returning your smile before averting his eyes. You scamper off to Astarion, attention easily pulled in every which way. Shadowheart saunters towards him. 

“You’re rather obvious, Blade of Frontiers. I thought a folk hero would have a little more suave about these matters.”

Wyll clears his throat. 

“...I don’t know what you’re referring too.” 

Shadowheart laughs good-naturedly. 

“Sure you don’t.” 

___

There are few times you take your proper werewolf form. 

It’s an accommodation thing from Wyll’s understanding. People are frightened less of full wolves or your humanoid forms. The hybridized version of yourself is what people find the most monstrous, and so - you’ve gotten used to putting on the shelf. 

The only time you take that form is when you hunt for meat. It’s easy enough to get ahold of other camp supplies - like liquor or vegetables if they’re lucky. But meat is hard to find, especially hard to find where it hasn’t got spoiled. Astarion hunts only out of necessity, so he’s not really any help. 

You hunt because it’s natural to you. A life of pilgrimage and spent in a Selunite enclave has gifted you the knowledge of preserving meats, too. When you’re camped out near enough forest - you’ll hunt. Most often before a long stretch of travel, you’ll go into the woods alone and disappear - returning with a feast. No one goes with you. In the forest, among fallen trees and soil - you’ll gut and skin the prey. You’ll bring back the final products, clean hides and things to turn to leather and meat ready for curing. It’s to prevent any more unusual bloodshed from occurring at camp. More sanitary, you always say. 

Wyll has no intention of following you tonight while he knows you’re hunting. His interest in the woods is to scope them out one last time before you leave this place for good, keep it in his memory and prepare for the road ahead. 

When he hears the sound of a faint growling, he thinks for a minute you’ve been injured or are in some kind of danger. 

The moon is shining just enough to cast light on your form. He figures out quickly you’re safe.

There’s nothing new to see. Thick, crimson blood makes a mess of your appearance - dripping down your fangs. It sticks and matts in your fur, covering your face in messy splatters. Your werewolf form is your most monstrous. Unnatural limbs and features - a form like a human but the face and ferocity of a wolf. 

In front of you are corpses of animals, bled out and laid in a pile. The scent of blood is so strong Wyll can smell it from a distance away. It’s a distance you’d usually be able to smell Wyll from, but it must be masked by the smell of copper and flesh. 

The moon has waned, nearly to its fullest. You turn yourself towards the black sky of midnight, towards the moon - and you howl. It is a loud, tremendous sound. 

Wyll has never heard you howl before. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life. An elongated melody, deep from your chest - high and throaty. You howl to the sky. You howl to the moon. To your goddess, most certainly. You howl in the version of yourself everyone finds most disgusting. The monster in you is alive and bare-chested to the world. Stood on your two feet, all matted fur and eyes like beams of light - you howl towards the sky.

And Wyll watches. Listens. Commits the sound to memory. 

In the version of yourself that is so embraced by monstrosity, you howl like a song to the moon you so adore.

He’s never found you so beautiful. 

___

Time moves differently in the Shadowfell lands. 

Slower. In every other part of Fae’run, the nights and days don’t blur into each other. But here, in the abandoned and unyielding darkness - everything feels thick. Muddy. The soil that does not dampen, the trees that do not grow leaves. Instead of preserved amber, there is only shadow. It swallows everything, every place in the land. 

The upward battle of survival persists. The Harpers have (barely) welcomed you into the Last Light Inn. Flaming Fist Marcus is dead, and the Moon Maiden has given her her blessing. You’ve even been able to give Karlach her first upgrade. 

The air speaks for itself though, that you’re nearing something important. The beginning of something. Or the end, though Wyll sways towards hope and optimism. 

In the presence of darkness and solace, -Wyll finds that you remain yourself. Bright and clear and comforting, even in the face of impending doom. 

Your camp in the Shadowfell lands is brightened by artificial lights. It spans over more land now. The main area which hosts all of your companions lies at the foot of an abandoned building. An abandoned house, torn by vines of shadowfell and roots. The base of camp is spread over dusty ashen floors, everything colored gray. 

When it’s time to rest, most lights remain on. He finds it’s easier to sleep with Selune’s blessing. 

Tonight, Wyll can't get any rest at all. He’s still awake while his companions have fallen asleep. He opens his eyes to the skies. They lack the deep shades of purple of a normal night sky, unmistakably dark.

His eyes remain lidded as he takes a look at his surroundings. Shadowheart is asleep, and Astarion is deep enough in meditation that Wyll doubts he’d noticed if he walked off. Among his companions, you’re missing from your bedroll. 

Wyll sits up as quietly as he can. He looks towards your tent, to see if you’ve woken up to sleep inside - but doesn’t find you there either. His brow tightens, shoulders tense as he blinks rapidly trying to wake himself up. 

There aren’t many places in this camp to go, despite the terrain being wider. The other tent occupants remain in place. From where Wyll stands you’re not with anyone else like Karlach or Halsin. 

There’s only one more place that would leave you.

Through a curve and another straight path are wood stairs. At the top is a skeleton of an old house. One that stood long before the curse, and remains long after. 

Wyll has never gone there on his own. He only saw it once while they’d settled in for the first time. There’s nothing inside of it. A fireplace, a broken cupboard and cabinet. A table and chair, and two old beds that have gone rickety overtime. 

He ducks his head as he enters through what must’ve once been a door. 

It occurs to him he’s never really seen you pray. Not fully at least. Though you utter it on occasion, the words of your goddess - you tend to speak them lightly. Wyll gathers its out of respect for Shadowheart. 

He finds you on the edge of a large bed in the center of the room. You’re in your humanoid form, with only your ears and tail and teeth - your hands are clasped tightly around a necklace. The fireplace is burning, but it’s not what illuminates you.

All around you though is a pale blue glow, like the moon itself has surrounded you with all of its might. You’re quiet in incantation  - the warmth of a smile lighting up your features. You’re not in your usual nightwear of a loose shirt and pants. Instead you wear the silk of a slip and something like a Selunite robe, open. Wyll has seen so much of your skin before, everything past your knees barren. But its a new feeling. Your neck and shoulders are just the same, your hand on your chest ducking from view.

You breathe deeply, before your eyes flutter open and see him at the door. You smile at him.

“You’re awake,” You say first, letting go of the necklace chain. “Hope everything’s alright?” 

“Sorry. And yes, everything is fine - I had just woken up and couldn’t find you,” Wyll feels flush as he adds the rest to the conversation “And I uhm. Well I was worried something might have happened.” 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I figured everyone would be asleep so I didn’t bother telling anyone,” You say apologetically “Our Silver Lady called to me so I felt I ought to answer.”

You pause before laughing. “Wait, sit first. Unless you’re going back to sleep right away.” 

Wyll shakes his head as your grin widens making his heart feel rather funny. 

He sits next to you, fond as you bring your leg up and face him. Your back rests on the broken wood at the foot of the bed. You’ve tidied the room a bit, and these sheets don’t have as much dust as they did when you first got here. 

Wyll mirrors your actions, sitting with a leg up - bent at the knee as he stares at you. 

“You said your goddess called to you?”

“Ah, yes,” Your voice is uncharacteristically shy. Wyll can’t help but stare at the bare crook of your knees. “Shadowheart had mentioned it. There’s something in these lands. And well,   wherever Shar goes, Selune will follow and all. Don’t really know what it means, though. Bit of mystery.” 

“You’re a cleric, right?” Wyll asks, taking a brief moment to assess and remember all the little details about yourself you’ve told him. 

When he thinks of it, there’s so much about you he doesn’t know. Though he feels you know everything there is to know about him. It’s not that you’re secretive, but it’s rare to get a moment alone. Harder to find a moment appropriate to air out your past. 

Alone with you in this shadowy, dimly lit room - Wyll hopes time will slow. Long enough to know something more about you, at least.  

“Right. I try not to crutch too much on my magic so I tend to stick to fighting,” You say with a laugh “I also had to learn physical combat and martial arts. It feels like a waste not to use.” 

“I see,” Wyll says with a thoughtful hum “But you are a cleric, all the same. Quite an impressive title to bestow on someone, I’d imagine.” 

“Ah, truthfully - I find it a bit difficult,” You reply sheepishly, surprising Wyll.“I’m sort of simple, all things considered. I thought I’d be my Lady’s sword or just part of her clergy, but I never imagined I’d do anything so important. Or have powers so great.” 

The sound of your voice feels especially pleasant to Wyll like this, murmurs just between you with no threat of doom. Like between these broken wooden planks, is a peace impenetrable. He likes being with you.

“Before your capture, were you? Set out to do something important, I mean,” 

“Importance is relative. But, it was a mission I was proud taking,” You reply thoughtfully. A confirmation of the sanctity in your character for you to make such a distinction. “I had been sent by my clergy to wander Faerun - to aid other lycanthropes and those touched by madness or ailment. 

“You alone had been sent?

You nod, staring down at your hands folded in your lap. 

“Aye, me alone. I’d wandered around for several years when I was sent away before the ship had captured me. I was on my way to Baldur’s Gate as part of it,” 

“Where do you hail from?” 

“Amn. There’s a few small Selunite enclaves there. Mama was a Silverstar, which is mostly a pretty word for a very powerful priestess. My fate was divined when I was seventeen and the rest is history.” 

“Seventeen is young. What was your final destination then? Or was it more of a wandering practice.” 

“After some years, I was hoping to get to Waterdeep actually. Big church for Selune over there, very beautiful.” Your voice teeters on wistful, blooming with longing and nostalgia. You peek at Wyll through your lashes. “In that way, we have a lot in common.” 

“A lot in common. Do you really think so?” 

“Mm, I do. Banished at seventeen, a monster inside us, some sort of tragic background. We make a fun pair.”

“I didn’t know there was a tragic story in yours. To the extent you could call it one,” Wyll says quietly. You give Wyll a look. Though he doesn’t pressure you to expand on it, you seem relaxed enough to talk about it. 

You close your eyes briefly, letting them flutter open. 

“It was a year into my pilgrimage, I think,” You explore, a soft sadness tender in your expression. Wyll sits up a little straighter, readying himself to receive whatever you wish to tell him. “A small village in the Dalelands. Young girl, about seven. Her village had ostracized her. By the time I arrived, she was emaciated. Clever little thing had survived on her own but barely,” 

Wyll waits patiently for you to continue, not wanting to interrupt you even briefly. He softens his gaze.  

“Anyway. When I go anywhere new, the basic practice is meeting locals. Depending on the circumstances, I won’t always disclose my wolven ways. Some people - they need guidance, others they need protection. In her case, she needed both,” You look far away somehow. Wyll feels empathy as much as he feels warmth. Your care for the human condition, he always finds, touches him. “She was much smarter than me, you know. Her lycanthropy was inherited like mine, but because she was so young - she had a difficult time controlling it.” 

You pause to take a long, deep, steadying breath. “She was my little genius. I cared for her  an awful lot. Still do. She beat me at lanceboard all the time, despite being seven and I wasn’t even letting her win you know.” 

“She must’ve been even more brilliant than I could imagine.” Wyll offers. You nod. 

“Despite my efforts, the relationship between her and her village wasn’t getting better. One day, I’d left her in my chambers for a while - to bring something back from a market nearby. Less than a few hours, and she’d been uhm,” Your voice starts to close. Wyll follows his instinct, squeezing your hand where it rests on your knee. It’s shaking when he reaches for it. He thinks briefly about kissing it. “She’d been killed,” 

Wyll pauses, lets you collect yourself. But he wants to know as much as you’ll tell him. 

“It was easy enough to figure out who’d done it. And in small villages like that, the hivemind bullshit and paranoia really gets to people,” Your voice intones on bitterness. Angry and heartbroken, you continue “Grown men raising an ax to kill a little girl. I almost lost my mind. I should’ve.” 

“But you didnt…? Or did you? In a situation like that, well,” Wyll looks at you sympathetically. “Any choice you made I wouldn’t hold it against you.” 

“I only punished the one who killed her. I didn’t kill him no matter how much I wanted to. I don’t think she would’ve wanted that. Not her or my goddess,” You say with a deep sigh. “I used my magic and blinded him. Made an example out of him and reprimanded the rest of those fucking idiots.” 

“And after?” 

You clear your throat, but smile at him. Like you’re grateful he hasn’t recoiled from it.

“After, I buried her body in the soft earth, in the place where the moon shone most brightly - and mourned. Her death was so severe I couldn’t revive or heal her, I just buried…her. I thought about doing plenty of other shit. To kill, to chase, to defend - but ultimately, it felt more…meaningful just to… bury her.” 

Wyll frowns, pausing. He squeezes your hand, eyes closed. Brows furrowed as he looks down. 

“I’m sorry,” 

You smile at him. Noticing the hand in yours finally, you even flush - though the moment passes quickly. Wyll stares at you in quiet, wondering if his eyes alone could tell you all he’s thinking. With you, his silver tongue is absent. His mouth is weighed too heavily with feelings sincere, with words meaningful. 

Wyll cannot offer you cleverness or comfort where he wishes to offer you honesty. 

“That night, the Moonmaiden had called to me. Just like today. It’s hard to explain what it feels like?  Like a cool hand on feverish skin. It was a revelation for me. I had suddenly felt so empty. And, after some sobbing, I’d realized something,” You say whimsically, drawing circles into the back of Wyll’s hand. 

“What did you realize?” He prompts. 

“Our Lady of Silver believes in the carving and following of our own path. But, what had I done but what was told of me? All my life I’d spent in the temple, in the monastery - among people of my own faith and beliefs. In the moment in which I felt so much anger, I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Not on purpose, but that was the truth. I swore myself too soon to duty rather than the convictions of my heart—I’d lacked real purpose.”

Wyll smiles at you, brightened by the gusto in which you speak. He’s endeared by you all too easily. 

“And the convictions of your heart? Have you found them?” He asks, head tilted. 

“Not all of them. But you know I figured out one thing. I want to make the world a less lonely place. Her death will never not bear weight on my mind, but her tiny hand thanking me for staying with her. That was something, I’m damn sure. Maybe all of it,” 

He stares at you, speaking in quiet murmurs. You’re glowing, he thinks. You must be. 

“It’s a noble thing to want. At least to me.” 

“I’m glad you think so. My goddess has given me these divine powers, so my duty will always be to help people. But more than that - I want to guide the sick and afraid like the Moonmaiden guides me. I want to make it less difficult for people.” 

“You’re awfully wise at times like this.” 

“Wise?” You laugh lightly. “I’ve never heard that for me before. More used to hearing stuff like hard-headed, pack runt, cry baby. So on and so forth. But I’ll cherish it before you change your mind.” 

“Do you feel fulfilled here? Becoming a hero of a city, saving so many people - surely that too aligns with your convictions” 

“Asking an awful lot about me,” You tease finally. Wyll is hard-pressed to deny it. It’s so obvious. “But I do. I’d say managing to become Astarion’s friend is a high enough accomplishment with regards to you know, my convictions and all. It’s honestly like my life’s work. He even pets me now. Willingly!”

Wyll laughs loudly at the sudden excitement in your voice. You haven’t let go of his hand, he notices. 

He hopes you don’t.

“Quite an impressive feat, certainly. But I am a little hurt. Does our bond not incite a similar sense of accomplishments and vigor in you?” He teases.

You pretend to consider it. 

“The Blade of Frontiers, my most important companion.” You respond, with just as much cheekiness. “Calling it an accomplishment might be too egotistical.” 

“What else do you suppose you’d call it?” 

“Fate, maybe,” You say, though your voice is hardly above a murmur now.  “Somehow, the fact we’ve met feels more like a very lucky chance, I reckon.” 

“You feel so strongly about it?” Wyll says, more than asks. Because somehow it feels too much like a dream. 

“Of course. I feel strongly about you in general,” You respond, and still don’t let go of his hand. You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I feel strongly about us. And all we’ve seen, together. I feel strongly that regardless of all the darkness, the moon waits for me and that I’m very lucky to have met you.”

Wyll feels his heart jump into his throat. Hardly a confession, yet his heart pounds. The longing is ceaseless. 

In all the time you’ve spent together, Wyll has had all the time in the world to witness you. In your bravery and in your cowardice. At the best of yourself, and at the worst. Wyll has seen you lie when you’d rather be honest. He’s seen you cry countlessly for the deaths of people you’ve never known. He’s seen you tear through flesh and bone. He’s seen you as a furred creature laid on your back so Halsin would rub your stomach. He’s seen you as tenderly, achingly human. 

Wyll has seen so much of you. And perhaps more than that - you have seen so much of him. Parts of himself even he has no access to. A passing comment of how dashing his horns look, a pat on the shoulder when you pass a father and son. You see Wyll even when he forgets to see himself. 

Between you, there is no question that he is lucky. The luckiest man on Toril. 

“You know, when everything is through. Not if, but when,” Wyll says slowly and carefully. “I want to remain by your side. Wherever that road leads. I want us to be together or travel together. Though I don’t know what that would look like,” 

You give him a look of surprise, then a teasing smile - titling your head to one side. 

“I might go somewhere you don’t want to follow, Ravengard. I’m a wanderer at heart.” 

“Impossible. I’ve already followed you here, remember?” Wyll says with a smile, eyes meeting yours “As long as we’re together, no place is too dark nor too treacherous.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“There’d be no greater honor.” 

__ 

When Myrkul falls, the world is silent. 

For a first time, in a long time - the Shadowfell lands do not whisper the regrets of the dead. Instead, the remaining shadow swallowing the world begins to finally clear. In gradual steps, life returns to the land at Moonrise. 

And this is in no small part thanks to you. 

Though, Wyll watches you as you insist the glory is split between your party equally.  You’re all heroes, and you couldn’t have done it without them by your side. Wyll knows you mean that.

 It was you who took down the foes at Moonrise towers in slow increments, that planned and slaughtered until there was nothing left of it. It was you who destroyed the Thorms one by one. You who allowed Wyll to break Mizora’s pact. You who completed the gauntlet of Shar, who saved the Nightsong with your own two hands. That helped Astarion with the letters on his back, and that prevented Gale from using his orb - because you were so certain you all could win without it. 

It was your touch and kindness that gave Shadowheart grace enough to throw away her Sharran roots, to throw away her past and embrace her own convictions just like you had promised to embrace yours. 

The world has not been saved. The journey to the end has only become more perilous. But in the palm of your hand is the Netherstone of the fallen general - and an entire allegiance waiting to follow you into battle. The world has not been saved, and it is only bound to get more treacherous. 

But for now, you’ve accomplished something great - and Wyll is proud to be alongside you for all of the rest, as you move onto things even greater. 

For now, all of you remain at camp. A two day extended break before venturing towards the city. Among your camp now is the famed harper Jaehira and more importantly - Dame Aylin, the chosen of your goddess. And the cleric Isobel, her lover, of course.

Dame Aylin’s arrival at your camp has sparked plenty of interesting conversations. Revelations of Shadowheart’s identity aside (something you’ve been helping her through), Dame Aylin is not just a fellow Selunite - but the daughter of your beloved goddess. Not only have you just saved her life, you’ve freed her from thousands of years of torment. 

Wyll doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so utterly awe-struck in your adventure together, even once. You’re a hard person to shake in many ways, and you’re excitable - but nearly never truly awestruck like the way you have been for the last two days. 

Wyll is listening in on the interaction from afar, only taking small peeks at you as you, Shadowheart, Dame Aylin and Isobel crowd around in your tent. Your tail is swishing so helplessly behind you Wyll can’t help but laugh.

“God. You’ve been staring like a dumb puppy for two days now,” Shadowheart teases, rubbing your head with her hand “You’re going to catch flies with your jaw like that.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” You say, a little embarrassed. Wyll smiles to himself as he pretends to read, thankful to be in earshot “I’m sorry, I’m just… It was already nice meeting another Selunite but…I could live a thousand lives and not meet you Miss Aylin.” 

“Your formality is misplaced. Aylin is just fine. We are comrades in all regards, both in our faith and in arms. I’m thankful you’ve given us a place to stay for the time being,” 

“Camp welcomes all as policy. It helps to have allies and in lands like these, seems a little cruel to leave people to the wilds. Though soon that won’t be an issue,” 

“You’ve accomplished something incredible,” Isobel praises. Wyll glances at you, a warmth settling in his chest at the surprise you seem to feel. “Lifting the curse from these lands, it was no small task.” 

“It was all of our contribution! I’m just glad we’re a little bit closer to getting rid of these pests.” You lament with a dramatic sigh “And I’m excited to be in a place where I can feel the presence of the moon again.” 

“It must be hard on you,” Isobel says sympathetically. You smile. 

“I can hardly imagine,” Aylin adds, shaking her head. “There is perhaps some small blessing in the fact you’re gifted with control, but the effects that these lands must have on your body. May She ease your burden.” 

Shadowheart gives you a look of confusion. “You know, you’ve mentioned this to me before - but I don’t actually know how it affects your conditions,” Her frown deepens. “A little hypocritical given how much you know about me at this point, I think.” 

You look surprised then flattered. “It was never worth mentioning. My body has certain cycles that are affected by the moon. Similar to the tide. After 6 tendays, I go through something like.. a fever as a result of a full moon. Though I’ve been suppressing it with medication, my body at a certain point needs to expel it.” 

“A fever?”

This catches Wyll’s attention. You’ve mentioned your condition in passing and always left the details vague (something Wyll is extra aware of given your love of being open in most everything) so this is the most he’s ever heard about it. He stops turning pages and tunes in completely. 

“Sort of. The details aren’t important, really. I’ve gone through it for years, so I’m more than used to it. Especially on the road,” You explain, waving your hand. “Silver Lady bless me, I don’t think it’ll begin until we’re in the city at least. Near civilization and all.” 

“Do you need anything from us?” Shadowheart probes with obv. Lately when it comes to you, she doesn’t bother feigning indifference. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m used to it! I was going to mention it though soon, so I guess it’s a good thing it came up,” You lean back on your palms, legs crossed as you close your eyes. “I’ll be gone for about a tenday. I’ll leave my tent here and just pack some essentials and fuck off to the woods. Like I said, I’ve been doing it for years.” 

Shadowhearts frown deepens, as does Wylls. 

“That was then and this is now. You’re a rather wanted individual, will that be safe? A tenday of solo travel?” 

You give Shadowheart a delighted look before tackling her with a hug. She almost topples over but manages to keep herself upright as you hug and nuzzle her. She doesn’t push you off in any case. You laugh warmly, resting your chin on her shoulder. 

“You’re really worried about me? Little old me? Have you opened your heart to me after all?” You say through a giggle, earning a few laughs from Dame Aylin and Isobel. You finally pull away to look at her. “I promise I will be completely fine. My senses around that time are extremely heightened. I’m feverish but it’s very difficult to catch me off-guard enough for some kind of ambush. Worst case scenario, I shift and run away.” 

Shadowheart does not seem comforted by this. Wyll feels the same, thankful she’s being so adamant about it. 

“I don’t like those odds,” She says with her arms crossed. “Is there no one you can bring with you?” 

When she says that, you  turn to Wyll. Your eyes lock briefly. You look a little startled, but relax once you realize that it’s him. Wyll is a little startled too, embarrassed by his own staring. He can only hope you didn’t notice how obviously he was moments prior. You take a minute to consider him, your gaze raking over him. It’s a split second, barely noticeable - but afterwards you flush. It happens so quickly that Wyll wonders if he’s imagined the entire thing. 

You laugh and Wyll swears it sounds nervous. 

“I get a little…aggressive during that time.” You say dismissively. “It’s best to leave me to my own devices. I promise you I will be perfectly fine.” 

“I don’t know how much I believe that, but I’ll try to put my faith in you. Don’t make me worry while these damn parasites are still in our heads.”

You throw your head back and laugh brilliantly.

“I’ll make it back to you in one piece,” You say, holding your pinky out. Shadowheart hooks her own into yours with a blush. “I promise on the Moonmaiden herself.” 

Shadowheart sighs, resting her head on your shoulder. Your smile grows ten sizes. 

“You better.” 

__

The journey, of course, does not get any easier. 

You’ve barely made it to Rivington. Barely. Not only have you had to fight off a camp of hateful githyanki and earned the ire of an alien goddess - you’ve just found out the person protecting you is a mindflayer. 

After a tremendous amount of difficult information launched at the lot of you, you’ve managed to regain your bearings (some kind of miracle, Wyll thinks). You’ve made it to Rivington. Finally. 

Hells. What a troublesome situation. 

You’ve been in Rivington for a few days now, though you haven’t made it far. After being at the circus and a somewhat harrowing fight with a shapeshifting clown, you decide to put up for the night. Before nightfall, you announced to everyone at camp that you’d be disappearing for your supposed fever. You can feel it coming on, and by the time it starts - traveling will be difficult. 

Everyone has had their own way of fussing over you. Gale has given you some scrolls of his own curation. Astarion silently handed you one of his favorite daggers and a pack of expensive arrows. Lae’zel has given you some potions, testing your reflexes with you before your disappearance. Shadowheart gives you as many healing potions as she can, and her blessing with the help of Dame Aylin. Karlach has little to offer you in terms of things, instead knocking your heads together and telling you to scream as loud as you can if anything happens - and she’ll come running no matter what happens. Halsin has dried some food for you ahead of time, ever the planning kind. 

Wyll only gives you a long look of concern. Most of the conversation between you is had with eyes, a soft glance meeting a concerned one. With Wyll, you hold his hand and assure him that you’ll be fine - and to take care of them in your short absence. You hug him extra tight before you leave.Wyll is forced to let you disappear. 

It’s really not like Wyll to be so invasive on another person's business. He knows he can be a busybody when it comes to helping someone but for the most part - he’ll respect a person's wishes. If someone doesn’t want intervention, it’s not Wyll’s place to force it on them. He's learned from experience that sometimes it makes the situation worse. 

But shit, the worry has been eating Wyll alive. He could hardly sit still in the brief two hours you had disappeared. The rest of the party have regrouped in your absence. Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart and Lae’zel - while Karlach and Wyll planned to stay behind. Wyll had wanted to go but Astarion wouldn’t allow him. Said his pining would get in the way of everything. He’s off his game, and it’s best to wait till you return. 

It’s getting closer to evening, the sun beginning to set. Wyll just can’t sit still. There’s no way a tenday is going to pass like this without Wyll effectively losing his mind. 

Just as the sky begins to be painted orange, Wyll troubles Shadowheart in the middle of her meditations. 

One of her eyes opens as she breaks her concentration, an amused smile showing on her face. 

“That was quick,” She says first, looking up at Wyll from where she’s kneeled. “I thought you’d wait at least a day,” 

“Pardon?” 

Shadowheart laughs. “Oh, to chase them down I mean. I knew it was going to happen eventually, but this is a little fast even for you, Ravengard.” 

Wyll doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“My apologies for being predictable,” Wyll says with a sigh. “But since you were anticipating it, I have to ask if you know anything. Where they’d be. Anything.” 

“This is exactly why they didn’t tell you, you know? Not that I’m not worried about them too,” Shadowheart says with a sigh. “But they were clear. They need a tenday alone.” 

Wyll looks at her. “I’ve never been like this before, either. I don’t understand it, but I haven’t been able to take my mind off it despite my efforts. Regardless of what you tell me, it seems like I’m going to follow them,” 

“Oh, please,” Shadowheart says, standing up and dusting herself off as she looks at him directly “You don’t know why? Don’t you think it’s time to be a little more honest with yourself, Wyll? I mean really.”

Wyll widens his eyes, a little taken aback by it. He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. He scrunches his brow a bit, unsure of what to say to defend himself. 

“Well, I am aware of why, I suppose. But it’s,” He fumbles in the process of trying to say anything sensible. “It’s new.. I didn’t think I was this sort of person. Something along those lines. It’s not that I don’t have confidence in them, but this isn’t something they need to endure alone.” 

“Not when you’re there for them, I’m guessing,” 

Wyll smiles a little sheepishly. “Yes. I respect their privacy. I’ll turn back if they ask me too,” 

“Oh, don’t worry, that was easy enough to figure out.” Shadowheart teases. Wyll covers his face. Is he a schoolboy, being teased about his crush like this? How ridiculous. “At least you know.” 

He sighs.

“Will you at least tell me what you know?” 

“I’m still thinking about it.” Shadowheart says thoughtfully. She makes an exaggerated gesture of contemplating the situation before shrugging. “Hm. You know, I’ve entered a totally new chapter of my life - so, out of the kindness of my heart I’ll tell you what I know.” 

“Thank you.” Wyll says truly grateful. Shadowheart gives him what Wyll thinks of as a semi-fond smile. He hopes this means she approves of whatever is going on. You two are close as ever, so it does matter to Wyll how she feels about it. 

“They were rather vague about the situation,” Shadowheart says honestly. “But they did tell me the direction they were going to travel. There’ll be marks in the trees so they can make their way back if something happens. If you can find where they started, it should be easy enough to find where they end up. That’s all I know. Good luck.” 

“Thank you, Shadowheart.” 

“Oh and, go pack some things of your own before you go. Just in case you end up staying.” 

“Right. I’ll do that now.” 

“I’ll let everyone know so leave as soon as you can.” 

“It looks like I'll be owing you quite a few favors.” Wyll offers. Shadowheart smiles. 

“Of course. Nothing in life is free. But go, shoo. You should go before it gets too dark.” 

Wyll gives her one last look of gratitude before hurrying to prepare a pack. 

__ 

Wyll barely makes it before the darkness settles in. 

There’s enough moonlight to guide him through the tricky paths of the forest. Let the record show, Wyll has no idea how you’ve navigated through here. Like Shadowheart had promised him - the trees began to be marked once Wyll found your paw prints on the ground. On each tree was a the slashing of a sharp dagger. 

Despite the clear path you laid out, the terrain is utterly unforgiving for the longest time. Had the signs of you not been in front of him, Wyll would’ve given up on the affair. This is saying something, because his time as the Blade of Frontiers was far from a life of luxury. 

It’s difficult but the promise of Wyll’s good eye laying its gaze on you is enough to push him through to the end of the journey. 

Eventually, eventually - the path clears. The trees start to become sparse and the area starts to flatten to something walkable. The dirt hardens underneath his feet and his muscles no longer drag. 

Before Wyll lays eyes on you, he hears you. 

There’s a campfire, and the shelter of a borrowed tent. You’ve laid out plenty of old rags and bedsheets - layers and layers of dusty fabric and old pillows giving you a cushion from where you’re curled up on a tree. 

Before Wyll can see you in the faint glow of fire, the only thing his mind can pay attention to is the sound of your voice. 

A pained whimper, so loud and high pitched - Wyll is shocked he didn’t hear it some distance ago. You’re practically shaking, short snarls and desperate yowls between hard pants.You sound like you’re suffering something grave. It’s nothing he’s ever heard in your time together, despite the horrific injuries you’ve endured. Even at near death, Wyll has never heard more than labored breathing and groans. 

It’s pure distress, so broken it rings in his ears. His concern grows ten sizes. 

He decides then that no matter what you tell him, he won’t be able to go back to camp to leave you alone. 

He fights the urge with his body to run towards you, remembering the state you’re in. Prone to aggression and high-alert, Wyll forces himself to approach you slowly. 

As soon as he’s within range of you, your entire body lurches forward to sit up. Your eyes open, wide and nearly feral - searching erratically. Wyll pauses, no longer in a soft crouch. He stands to full attention. When you finally look at him, your chest shakes with an exhale. You lean back against the tree behind you where you’re curled, shaking. 

“Fuck,” You cover your nose first, pressing your arm against it as you curl away from him instinctively. Wyll feels a mix of guilt and worry. “Fuck, what in the Hells are you doing here? Was it Shadowheart? Even—even though I told her,” 

He moves in just a step closer. “I asked her. But I intended to find you even if you didn’t tell me. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen,” 

“Shit, don’t get any closer. I-I’m already, shit,” You hold up a hand, though your entire body is fragile. Weak, even from this distance. “Don’t move. You,” Another labored breath “Go back.” 

Wyll stills, but doesn’t budge. His frown deepens. “You don’t have to endure this alone,” He steps closer. “I’m here for you,” 

“It’s not about—fuck,” You curl into yourself, turning your face away from him. “It’s n-not about that. Not personal. You need to get out of here, Wyll, please. Please listen to me and, and go.” 

Wyll wants to ask how he could leave you in this condition, but the desperation in your voice stops him. He feels uncertain, but his body - his mind, won’t listen to him.

“Tell me what’s happening to you,” Wyll pleads. He wants to run to you. He hates seeing you in this much pain. He wants to hold you, his heart is practically pounding. “Are you in pain?” 

Your expression strains, but you force your gaze towards him. Your eyes are wide. They shine with water and wetness, your tearstained expression landing on his face. 

“Fuck, Wyll, you - I’m in heat. So d-don’t come any closer. Go, go—please, I’m begging.”

Heat. Wyll knows little about the cycles of werewolves. But he knows about wolves, and other animals at least. Heat. A period of heightened sexual reception during mating season. Wyll pauses, then blinks. His stomach drops, heart quickening. 

Shit. Shit. 

“You’re in…heat.” 

“Y-yes. And it lasts for a tenday, so you need to listen to me and get out of here. Now.” 

Wyll doesn’t move. 

“Would,” Wyll swallows the thick feeling in his throat. “If someone else had come. Would you have,” 

He hardly knows what he’s asking. But it seems you do, because you open your eyes - in utter distress and shake your head. 

“No,” You shake your head and hold your breath, trying to calm yourself as you breathe. You focus on breathing only out of your mouth. “Just you.” You close your eyes again and continue to tremble. “Please. Please go, Wyll.” 

He comes closer. Your voice croaks as you try to shout at him, though the words are too faint to be called that. Nonthreatening and utterly desperate. 

“No, no, no—please,” Your words become a sob, and Wyll feels his heart start to crack a little. “You don’t understand. It h-hurts. If you get too close, if you—” 

“What is it?” He gets close enough to be within real range of you. There’s only a few feet of distance between you. Wyll kneels so he’s not looming over you, looking over you with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

You shake and shake and shake, closing your eyes - tearing your gaze away from him. Your lower lips waver, both hands covering your face as you cry. 

“Your s-scent,” You heave, trying to push back against the tree.  “It’ll make me want to t-touch you. And I can’t. I can’t and—I want too. So badly, you’re so close, please stay away. It’s cruel, so cruel to me,” 

Wyll feels his own voice almost give out. Seeing you like this. So desperate. Needy. The guilt is outweighed by another feeling he chooses not to name.

“You can touch me,” He assures. 

You sob. 

“Not just touch. Wyll, please, go.” 

“Hells,” He comes closer towards you and you flinch. “I’m not so clueless. I know what you meant. It’s alright.” 

Your eyes flicker open in disbelief. 

“You,” You look at him through teary eyes. “I-it’s important to you to... With someone you love. Not like this.” 

“Gods, who else but you? I love you,” Wyll says with his own voice nearly shot. Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Of course I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.” 

“Wyll,” You sob for a different reason this time. “I love you. I w-want you, I want you.” 

“Tell me. Can I touch you?”

“Please,” You’re so tender like this. Wyll has never seen it in his life. It’d be unimaginable, had he not witnessed. 

Strong and capable and brave and rowdy - reduced to a fragile, pleading mess. 

Wyll doesn’t know how to touch you. If he were more honest with himself in the moment - more sensible, he’d admit this to you in a quiet secret. He doesn’t have room for doubt now, so Wyll is gentle when he reaches for you. He pulls your wrists from where they’re glued to you, unfurls your form slowly and looks closely at your face. He guides your hands around his neck and brings you towards him. With slow, careful maneuvering - he sits down with you. 

Holding you in his embrace, he brings you into his lap  - sitting where you once were. Until you’re over his own, resting your full weight against his. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You look at Wyll from above, your lower lip still quivering. 

“It’s alright,” He says, hands on your waist but not moving “Take what you need,” 

With a wordless whimper, you grab the fabric of Wyll’s clothing, light armor that he changed into before leaving - tight enough he can feel the tension in fabric. You lean in, your eyes shut tightly and press your nose along the side of his neck. Wyll can feel you bump against this jaw. He tilts his head back to give you more access to him. His body is hot with your sudden proximity, your own skin completely feverish from need. You inhale, so deeply and so wantonly Wyll doesn’t know what else to do other than sit and let you. 

The thought passes. Like a mutt. Like a puppy. You breathe Wyll in like it’s the only thing keeping you alive, grinding instinctively on his lap. Something that he overlooks for the sake of being the sane one between you. 

“You,” Your voice has calmed down a fair bit, though it's just as thick as it was before. “Shit, it’s so good.”  

Your grip on his clothes tighten. Wyll rubs a soothing hand on your waist, still over your clothes. You continue it, taking deep breaths of him like a life-line until your grip starts to loosen. You’re no longer shaking at least. You pull away from him with wet pleading eyes, butting your forehead with his. Wyll winces, but bites back a smile at you once he realizes you’re a tad bit more sobered up. 

“What in the hells are you doing here?” You interrogate.

“Are you alright?” Wyll says, ignoring your first question. “Has it gone down?” 

“It comes in waves. The first wave has passed, but the second one will hit soon enough. Five minutes if I had to guess,” You say, shaking your head. You fix your gaze on him. Wyll suddenly becomes aware of your proximity (or lack thereof). “Why are you here, Wyll?” 

“Why? A better question is how could I not be here?” Wyll says carefully, examining your every expression. “An ominous sickness, traveling alone for an entire tenday when we’ve all spent our entire journey together. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I couldn’t sit back quietly while I was so worried for your safety.” 

“Like I told you and everyone else, I’m fine. I’ve been handling heats alone since I started puberty. It’s not a very pretty sight,” You pout shyly. Wyll finds it utterly adorable. “And well, it’s not like I can announce to everyone I’m in literal heat. Fever is easier.” 

“I’m sorry if I’ve invaded your privacy. If I had known,” He clears his throat, looking away from you “If I had known it was something like this, I would’ve approached it more delicately.” 

“My brain is too heat-addled to be properly embarrassed, which is lucky - because I’m definitely going to be pissed when this is over.” You say, clutching the front of his shirt again. “Everything is all out of order now.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“You’re the one going on about keeping things old school, you know.” 

“Well yes. But it’s not for any reason so rigid,” Wyll reaches his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing underneath your eyes. “These sorts of affairs are more enchanting when the love is there. That’s the part that matters.” 

“You’re not disappointed that the first time we’re touching each other is because I’m this desperate to touch you?” 

“I just like being able to hold you. For any reason at all,” Wyll says honestly, then adds. “And well, if I were to be frank, seeing you in this state is… rousing. In its own right.” 

You flush, and mumble. “Pervert.” 

He forgives the comment just as you’ve forgiven him for his intrusion. He looks at you tenderly, heart swelling so much it’s almost overflowing. 

“Will you allow me to stay by your side?” 

“This goes on for a tenday. And it doesn’t get any easier. Do you really know what you’re asking? Do you have that kind of stamina?” 

Wyll smiles at you. He wants to kiss you. 

“Around something as enticing as you, stamina should pose no issue.” He flirts. 

“Gods, Wyll - where’d you learn to talk like that?” 

He smiles cheekily. “Esoteric erotica novels from my fathers chambers, mostly. Overhearing things at Sharesses Caress helped too.” 

You giggle a little bit. This time you’re the one leaning into him. 

“The waves will get longer and more intense. They peak around the fourth day and begin to mellow out at the start of the fifth,” You give him a look before looking away, profusely embarrassed. “Uhm. The only thing that soothes it is, well, you know. I mean I get really… I cry a lot.” 

Wyll doesn’t communicate to you the fact he knows. He did just see after all, and it’s not like he particularly enjoys seeing you suffer. He’s not that sort of man, but. He likes taking care of you, in all aspects. You’ve had to take care of yourself for so long. It feels good that he’s allowed into something that you’ve kept private all this time. 

It’s fair if he’s a little cocky about it, he thinks. 

“You can show me everything about yourself and I won’t turn my gaze away from you. Nothing could make me look away,” 

You pout again. Wyll notices you do it when you’re feeling especially embarrassed. He opts not to say anything, just smiles. 

You take a deep, shaky breath. “It’s going to start again soon. Everything is fine with me, just—stay close. Close enough that I can tuck into you.”

“Something to do with my scent, I suppose? I am curious to know what.” 

“Well I like you. And it’s comforting. But it turns me on, too. Especially like this.”

“And that’s why you were pushing me away earlier?” 

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your voice regains that sweet, thick quality that Wyll is beginning to recognize as desire.

“Mm. I’m a lot stronger than you a-and my heads not very clear,” You shake your head as you explain this to him. “It would’ve..haah..been painful. Really.” 

“So it has that kind of effect on you,” Wyll concludes. Your eyes are lidded. You’re overwhelmed. It’s an interesting position. As far as Wyll’s concerned, he probably only smells like forest right now. He looks at the way you’re shaking like a leaf, then continues “I have that kind of effect on you,” 

“Yes,” You huff, leaning against him again. Your head on his shoulder, nose brushing against his skin. He’s sweating from the journey up. He can’t really wrap his mind around what it could be that you like so much about him or how he smells. “Fuck, yes - you do.” 

It’s an odd position to be in. Wyll is a righteous man but the thoughts that swarm him now are anything but. There’s nothing foreign about being wanted. His time as the Blade of Frontiers has had him propositioned for such affairs more times than he can remember. 

No ones ever been desperate for him, though. You’ve never been desperate about anything. You’re emotional and light-hearted and wise and kind. Not desperate. Never that. 

Except right now, you’re looking up at him with your pupils blown wide and your lower lip shaking. There’s sweat dripping down the crown of your head. Your ears are perked up, your whole body tense with need. You’re practically intoxicated above him, and Wyll can’t help but feel something less than heroic about it. 

“I’m hardly half the man I claim to be,” Wyll says, a little dazed. “You make me forget myself. My virtue.” 

“What’s virtue to love, Ravengard?” You lean in closer to him, your noses brushing. It must be coming again, the next wave. “You’re just Wyll to me, remember? Not a paragon of decency.” Your face is close. Your lips are close. Tempting. “Touch me. Or make love to me, if you’d prefer to call it that.”

It feels like there’s no air in Wyll’s lungs. Not enough to take a breath. He cups the nape of your neck with his hand, and your skin is so hot it nearly burns. You’re feverish, and sweaty - when Wyll touches you, you react right away. He stares at you. Everything feels distant, far-away. How many times have the two of you been like this? How many times have you nearly crossed this threshold before retreating back into each other? 

Wyll can think of one hundred times he’s thought of kissing you. When you’re covered in blood and gore, when you smile, when the sun through the trees makes your fur look shiny and beautiful, when Astarion pets you, when you hug Karlach for the first time. He can compile every time the urge has come over him. 

It feels unreal to kiss you now, after all that. 

You open your mouth slightly, a choked moan passing through your lips as Wyll presses his own to yours. Yours are soft. The first thing he notices is the shape of your teeth, the sharp edge of your fangs - protruding and clumsy. None of it matters. Nothing matters except you and this. 

You’re huffy and eager when Wyll kisses you. A slow peck at first before he pulls away, delighted by the way you chase his mouth. Then again with your mouth open a little wider, panting hotly as you urge Wyll to give you a little more. Your hands are gripping his armor again, tight enough to rip the material. You’re too drunk on your own need, to notice anything about anything. 

It’s something about you - something about you Wyll has known since forever. You get lost in things, in fights or in books that Gale reads. Sometimes you just give up thinking entirely and let your instinct guide you. And it makes enough sense, you’re a werewolf - part hungry animal by blood. Of course your baser instinct feels more natural. 

It’s not very kind to think, but Wyll isn’t saying it to be unkind. He likes it. He likes that you think with your heart less than your head. He likes when you give into the most animal parts of you. 

Wyll is not in the same place as you. His head is meant to be clear. He’s seemingly sober for this affair. 

But his body betrays his mind so quickly it’s laughable. 

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. All of the blood in his body is running hot, and all of it floods south more quickly than he can control it. Before he knows what he’s doing, his hands are clasping around your waist and he’s kissing you deeper. He lets his tongue brush yours, lets his teeth sink into the plush of your lower lips. He sucks and bites and licks as you breathe each other in.

You kiss Wyll until your lips are swollen, chest heaving as you pull away from each other. There’s something juvenile about the affair, enough to make you laugh even in the state you’re in. And Wyll laughs too, stares at your expression only illuminated by moonlight. 

“I love you,” Wyll repeats. You’re startled by it this time. “Gods, I love you.” 

Your voice is thick. “I love you too. Touch me, please.” 

“How should I touch you my love?” 

“However you want. As long as you touch me.” 

“However I want,” Wyll says contemplatively. He’s quick to maneuver you both to the ground when he says this. A little closer to the warmth of the fire, on the sheets and pillows you’ve set up underneath you both. You look up at him wide-eyed as your back touches the ground. “You should choose your words carefully. I may take you up on making love.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down to you.

“Do it before I lose my mind anymore,” 

Wyll laughs playfully against your skin.

The act of undressing each other is unceremonious. Wyll peels the padded armor off his body, leaving him in trousers. He helps you out of your own clothes. He’s seen you naked more than once, but never for this. For him. He studies the way your muscles fall, the hair on your skin. Various scars. Everything for him to gaze on. 

Your own hand reaches up to his neck, on his shoulder as your mouth falls open. “You’re so attractive. Do you know?” 

He laughs. “It doesn’t hurt to hear you tell me.” 

You seem eager to admire his body. Wyll doesn’t stop you. Your palms are much smoother than he’d think of them to be, as they plane over the expanse of his muscled chest. You let your fingers drift over raised scars on abdomen, over his nipples and down his abdomen. Wyll feels his cock twitch unhelpfully. You must notice the same because your eyes light up. Your hand reaches even further, even lower - cupping the hard outline of his length. He hisses through his teeth. 

“You’re…” You mumble, squeezing again. “For me,” 

“You’re beautiful,” Wyll says. You flush. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Your voice is almost petulant. 

“And I’ve longed for you since that very moment” 

Your pout deepens before you brush Wyll’s hand with yours. 

“You can do the same for me.”

Wyll stares at you before leaning back down to kiss you. He doesn’t linger at your mouth, chaste pecks that pave the path for Wyll to worship the rest of you. He wants to worship every inch. He lets his lips leave kisses all over your face. He kisses the scars along your skin, the corner of your mouth, your eyelids. 

His tongue laves down your jaw until he’s at your neck. You breathe unsteadily as he continues down to the column of your throat. Wyll is gentle. He doesn’t bite. He steadies his hands at your waist and only kisses. Presses his face to your skin and pricks you with his want. It’s slower than you want, he can tell from how your legs are wrapped helplessly around his waist. 

Your lower-half is grinding against him, against air - anything you can find. Little shameless mewls and so much squirming. Wyll knows you’re needy, and he is too - but this is your first time together. 

He couldn’t do anything but savor it no matter how much you whined. Right now you are his, hidden from the moon. From the camp. 

You are his and he will take you apart as he pleases. 

“Please,” You whine, taking a deep breath of him again. You inhale, nudging the parts of him available to him. “Please.” 

A little mercifully, he gives you a little more. He grabs your hips and positions you better over his cock. He moves his hands from your waist to squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts. He licks the salt of your skin, meeting your movements. 

“I know, I know. Endure it,” He says, pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Indulge me.” 

You bite back your complaint. You’re forgiving as always.

His mouth closes around your nipples, hard under his tongue. Your spine arches, but Wyll pushes you down and steadies you. His other hand squeezes the one he isn’t servicing, thumb drawing over your nipples. He gauges your breathing as he tries different motions until settling on rolling it with his thumb. The right thing to do, if your reaction is anything to go by. 

He feels something against the seam of his pants when he goes between them, pleasuring you. A wetness where his cock meets your clothed sex.  One that soaks underneath two layers of clothes. He looks up at you, wide-eyed. 

You’re unaware of anything. Too busy in the chase of pleasure. 

He wonders if it’s a result of your heat. He doesn’t know anything about them aside from the fact it happens and it makes you like this - but what it does to your body is still foreign to him. His cock is throbbing hard enough to make him light-headed. He tries to approach this with a light hand and patience. 

But shit, the way you’re searching for it is too arousing. You’re seeking an orgasm so desperately, all little rutting twitches and uneven movements. The first of the tears start to form on your lower lashes. Your eyelashes are wet. Fat tears drip down your cheeks, falling down the side of your face. Wyll is less concerned than you would be if you hadn’t told him that you would cry - but gods. 

“You’re a mess,” He says with an absent fondness. You whine and nod in agreement. Wyll is lucky to witness this, he realizes too late. “Is it painful?” 

Your voice is scratchy from crying. “Aches. Aches so much, need more, please. Trying to be patient but it aches.” 

He hums to himself, undoes the death grip your legs have on his waist before starting to kiss a path down to your navel. It’s clear you make an attempt to ask him what he’s doing, but the words cut off when you realize he’s getting closer to where you need. 

You’re holding your breath, your hands curled at your sides like you don’t know what to do with them. You’ve never been so uncertain in front of him. You help slide your bottoms off - everything in one go. Your knees are bent in the air, covering where Wyll is most keen to see you. He kisses your calves. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, remember?” 

You take a deep breath and lay your feet flat on the ground, spreading your legs enough to give Wyll a perfect view. He’s always tried not to look, but now he can’t stop staring. A thick layer of hair covers your cunt. His hands shake as he pulls you forward to look closer, and your own hands go to cover your face. 

“I can feel you breathe,” You whisper, and Wyll laughs. He’s still looking, examining you closely. He uses his fingers to pull you apart, awestruck by you. You’re so wet it’s dripping, pulsing helplessly without Wyll touching you at all. The sheet underneath you darkens with arousal. Your clit is throbbing with need, all fluttery. “Stop looking,” 

Wyll does what any gentleman would do. He pulls away, his hands settling on your thighs - and starts to kiss all the way up from the inside of your knee. He does it on both sides, before finally kissing your clit tucked away underneath everything. Your breath hitches, stomach tensing.

“Tell me where you feel it. Let me learn you.” 

“Hicc,” You nod soft and sweet. “Okay,” 

Wyll smiles against you. 

For as much as Wyll puts on a show, the first time he actually tastes you exceed all expectations. The loss of composure is nearly instant. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs as he lets the weight of his tongue drag through your folds, arousal collecting on the tip. Your reaction comes just as quick. 

“Fuck,” You cry out. Wyll feels your hands reach for him, a pleasant noise escaping him as you grip onto his horns. He’s never thought to touch them before. A feeling of electricity creeps up his back as your hands hold tight around the base of them.“Wyll, fuck - there,” 

He gets the message quick enough, laying his tongue flat on the hardened bundle of nerves. Your clit pulses for him. You taste heady and sweet, coating his entire mouth as he continues to eat. You guide him here and there - soft whispers of lower and higher until he ends up in the place you need. 

“That,” Your grip on his horns gets tighter as you grind yourself down on his tongue. Wyll feels his cock stiff against his stomach from where he lays. “Like that,”

He gives you more pressure as he licks your clit, sorting out a rhythm as he focuses his attention on one part of you. He wants to make you cum like this. You’re sensitive enough to do it. Your clit thrums as your mind goes muddy. Your body movements change as he continues to push you closer and closer to your high. He’s starting to understand what makes you tick. 

Wyll is a quick learner after all, dexterous and clever. 

Muscles clenching, your mouth falls open - eyes barely open as you moan. “Oh, oh, oh,” 

Wyll laps you up like ambrosia. He pulls away when you start to get close, ignoring your complaints. He wants to savor it now that he knows how to get you to the edge, so he does. He buries himself deeper into you, his nose bumping against your mound with every pass he makes over your slit. Your body is unbelievably sensitive. He dips his tongue into your tight hole and you nearly lurch forward with need. 

He starts a back and forth, going from licking long stripes along your slit determined not to let anything go to waste - back to focusing on where you need him most. He doesn’t mean to put you on edge so many times, no longer thinking clearly. 

You beg Wyll to make you cum by the time he’s back to reality, grabbing his horns hard enough to make him look at you. 

“Make me cum, please - can’t take it anymore, Wyll, please, fuck,” 

He hums against your sex before refocusing his attention. One last time he takes your throbbing clit into his mouth, lets it slide against his tongue and sucks on it. This time he relents to your need, and doesn't stop for any reason. He lets it build and build and build until he hears your voice break. 

Your back starts to arch, body going taut like a bowstring. Wyll hums against you, he wants to praise you but his mouth is busy. 

Then the thought occurs to him. It takes a little focus to reach your mind, and this is by all means - a terrible reason to use your shared connection. 

‘You’re doing so well, starlight,’ Wyll praises. Your eyes widen as you realize just how he’s doing it, a debauched and shocked moan tearing itself from your mouth ‘Beautiful. Sorry for teasing you. Can you cum for me? I want you to feel good,’ 

You hiccup, another loud sob as Wyll keeps steady. 

“C-cumming,” You choke on the words, on your spit. “I’m—fuck!” 

Wyll lets you ride your orgasm out as you cum for the first time in the night. Your body goes arching, gripping on his horns hard trying to pull him away as you push through to the other side. You’re pulsing in his mouth, tightening around nothing as you cum for him. It feels like it goes on forever, long waves and tremors until the feeling dies down. 

He pulls away once you’ve finally laid back down, exhausted and out of breath. You stare at him a little blankly, an arm covering your face. 

“Up here,” You say tiredly, gesturing him up. “I need to kiss you.” 

Wyll laughs good naturedly as you wrap an arm around Wyll’s neck, dragging him down towards you and kissing him hard - drunk off pleasure. You kiss him in chaste pecks,  hugging him. Nudging your nose along his neck, you whisper in his ear. 

“Take your pants off, dammit.” 

Wyll can’t help his laughter.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” 

You hook your fingers into Wyll’s trousers, helping him pull them down until his cock springs free. Your eyes go lidded as soon as you see it, hands cupping the now bare skin. Wyll hisses slightly at the sudden touch, unused to the friction. You look up at him, a hand between your bodies - closing your fist around the base of his cock. 

“Bumps and prongs, huh,” 

Wyll flushes immediately, making you laugh. 

“I hope you’re not making fun of me.” 

“How could I when I’m this turned on?” You offer sincerely. He shudders at the touch. “I like it. Can I blow you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Your turn to laugh. “I’m good at it. And I want to. It’s a little sensitive for you to fuck me, anyway.” 

Wyll swallows thickly. “I guess I have no reason to deny you.” 

“No you don’t. Now come on and stand up,” 

He gives you a hesitant look before peeling himself off of you. He stands to his feet, his pants still rolled down just past his thighs. He slides them off so the two of you are naked, and laments a little in his mind about the fact you’re doing this deep in the outdoors. You’re quick to follow Wyll, walking on your knees towards him until you’re eye-level with his cock. 

He’s never gotten this far. He’s a romantic in all the ways it matters, so save for some grinding and kissing - it’s a new experience. You look like you know what you’re doing though. You kiss his hips, hands on his thighs and an expression that he finds remarkably innocent for what you’re about to do. All Wyll can do is watch, and feel increasingly fidgety about the sight in front of him. 

You crane your head down and place pecks from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. You let his cock rest against your face, taking a sharp inhale of the skin - perverse and desperate.  Wyll groans, deep from his chest as you smile. You’re not unsettled by it at all, as reverent as you always are. 

His body has grown especially sensitive because of Mizora’s interference. He can feel the heat in his blood starting to swell as blood rushes to his cock, making him grow bigger. The way you’re looking at him isn’t helping. 

You poke your tongue out from your mouth and leave long licks along his cock - from base to tip. Like you sense he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, you guide them to hold your head. He feels a weird sense of guilt about it, but the pleasure outweighs the shame - he doesn’t force you down. Just keeps you painfully steady as you do all of the world. 

Fuck, he’s sensitive. Every little wet lick and stroke is enough to make his spine prick with need. The tip of his cock leaks pre-cum. You press it against your lips as your hand wraps around his shaft in full, your tongue dipping into the slit making Wyll hiss. 

“Shit,” He huffs, hands gripping tighter but not moving you “That feels good,” 

You give him a little smile that makes Wyll’s stomach flip. Like you know it’s going to catch him off guard, you finally open your mouth to take the tip of his cock into your mouth. It’s lighter and more sensitive than the rest of his cock. You wrap your tongue around it with expertise and Wyll finds himself nearly bedding on the knee, legs starting to feel weak.

You use one hand to steady yourself on his thigh, the other slipping between your legs. 

He can only watch on in awe, the impressive way you sink around the hot, hard length. Your tongue is soft, the cavern of your mouth wet and inviting. Wyll nearly breaks - almost fucks into your throat by bucking up. He restrains himself as you go lower and lower, eyes going increasingly wide as his cock disappears in the column of your throat. Just when he thinks you can’t get any further, you do. He can feel the tip disappear in the narrowness of your throat, awestruck as drool starts to drip from the sides of your mouth. 

You make a sound, muffled as you hit the base of Wyll’s cock like it’s nothing. You sink in further, nose pressing against his navel as you glance up at him. It’s too lewd, damn near -  seeing you deepthroat him with such ease. You inhale again, and Wyll flushes at the realization of what you’re doing exactly. 

You pull off in one go, saliva dripping down your chin and neck as you open your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks and wrapping a free hand around whatever your mouth can’t easily reach, you start to set a pace. It’s fast and slick and messy, pre-cum mixed with saliva making your face grow sticky - taking deep breaths of Wyll’s scent and musk every time you manage to swallow it all. It’s depraved seeing you suck his cock with such obvious lust and desire, eager to swallow him and show him pleasure. 

Wyll feels the pleasure. His entire body feels like it’s being wrapped in something slick and warm, little sparks of electricity traveling from his fingertips to his spine. His head feels especially light, filled with fluff and devoid of conscious consideration. 

“Your mouth feels incredible,” Wyll groans, shuddering, holding your head as you let his cock bottom out in your mouth again “Hells,”

You sound pleased, a pleasant reverb going through his body as you set a pace - bobbing your head and swallowing every inch of him without flinching. The sound of your throat constricting around him and your own hands fill the surroundings. He’s glad you’re so lost in the movements because his own voice is punched out of him each time you go down. He didn’t know he was capable of making this much noise, such deep groans and heavy breaths every time you so much as move.

You pull him out completely, letting spit and saliva rub against your mouth as you tap against your face. Wyll feels a restless embarrassment at the pit of his stomach as you make eye-contact with him. He feels his cock twitch hard, something starting to come undone in his gut as he pulls you away. 

“Stop,” He wheezes, and you do with a pleased laugh “Shit that’s dangerous. You’re…talented.” 

You pause before breaking out into more giggles, kissing his cock one last time. Wyll covers his face with his hands. 

“Is that a compliment?”

“...It’s meant to be one.” 

“Glad you’re impressed,” You say with a wicked little grin - all sharp teeth and delight. “I wanted to go longer.” 

“We have days together. Another time, my love.” 

Your smile grows a little. You are bad for his heart in more ways than one, Wyll thinks. 

“Mm. Okay. I can’t really wait much longer, anyway. Another wave is gonna hit soon and I feel antsy.” 

“Get comfortable and lay down. And, I hate to ask so late - but should I be worrying…? About protection?” 

You blink at him as you set up on the ground, moving around pillows for you to lay on. You shake your head. “Mm. Should be fine. Getting contraceptives should be easier since we’re closer to the city. Unless you don’t want to take that risk?” 

Your expression is uncharacteristically innocent. Wyll weighs his desire against reason, a feeling of guilt washing over him at the clear winner. His cock is throbbing to the extent it’s near painful.

(He doesn’t hate the thought of giving you a child, either. Though he thinks it’s much too early to say something like that, and he’d prefer to plan something so important. Still, it isn’t the worst outcome. It’d be a precious little thing, half-werewolf and beautiful. 

He brushes over the thought just as quickly as he has it, a little taken aback by his own desires. It’s like everything is being bled from him, no thought too precious to strike his mind. It’s too early to think about, no less mention.

He should marry you before that. The thought of it makes him harder.) 

“As I had suspected, I’m only half the man I consider myself to be.” 

“Are you reflecting on your failings?” You tease. Wyll lets out a breath of air. 

“On my hypocrisy, if I were to put a name to it. I didn’t realize desire could be so debilitating.” Wyll explains, joining you where you lay. You giggle lightly as Wyll positions himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you shortly. “Seems you’ve uncovered something I wasn’t aware of.” 

“Really?” 

Wyll laughs against your lips as he kisses you again. “You often do.” 

He brushes it aside as he pulls back. You lock eyes with him. Wyll is mesmerized. Your features start to round out again, eyes becoming glassy with need in the same familiar way as before. Wyll knows it now. He reaches over to cup your face with his palm, smile breaking his composure as you instinctively rub your cheek against the rough skin. He lets his thumb press against your lips, indulging your desire for affection. 

“Are you still all there?” 

“Hf. Yes. Not for long,” You say, urging him down towards you. Once again the proximity between you disappears. This time bare skinned, chest to chest. Wyll can feel the erratic thump of your heart, the unsteady quality in your breathing. You sink back into the same heat drunk place, a slow descent. Your pupils open wide enough for him to lose his senses. “Don’t keep me waiting, please.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

You fall into a synchronicity this time around. Your legs spread wide, open and wanting. Wyll feels his throat start to close. His stomach flutters restlessly as he pushes his cock through your folds once, then twice - his head thrown back at the feeling of your bare skin. He reminds himself this isn’t something to get used to, but the pleasure is easy to indulge in. 

It’s worsened by the fact you’re beautiful. 

Wyll finds you so beautiful it’s ridiculous, even to him. The plush of your lips, the way your lashes fall along as your cheek, the shape of your eyes. All of you, bathed in moonlight and blessed by the higher powers. You’re a culmination, the very pinnacle of Wyll’s every last mad desire. If everything around him faded to nothing, Wyll would have no clue. No sense, no rational, no righteousness. With nothing but himself to offer you, he’s moonstruck. Hung up on your affection and the feeling of warmth of mutual love. 

The order is all out of sorts, and everything is complicated. But Gods. Gods. You’re more beautiful than every dream he’s ever seen you in. Even the magic of his mind couldn’t form something so perfect. 

“You’re really the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Your eyes widen, blinking rapidly before breaking out into a flush. “What are you saying?” 

“When I was a boy, I often imagined getting married,” Wyll says, drawing little circles along your hip. Your mouth opens, but falls shut as you feel the head of his cock push against you. You shudder as Wyll moves so slowly, with no intent of pushing in. “I had high hopes for love. The magic of fairy tale romance always spoke to me. I was fond of beautiful sights too, to boot.” 

Your breath hitches. Wyll feels you start to stretch around the tip of his cock. He swears under his breath, slowing even more. You let out a soft mewl as Wyll breathes through the sensation. 

“But you know,” He presses deeper, just slightly. A suggestion of a thrust. Your hand shoots out to grab Wyll’s wrist where he’s gripping you at the waist. His vision strains as he moves slowly, another terrible inch. “You’ve, haah,  exceeded my every expectation. There was no need for daydreaming.” 

You make a choked sound as Wyll goes even deeper. Your hands grip tight, that same drunken look returning to you. The parts of you that are still there are teary eyed, sniffling. Your cunt pulses around him, sucking him deeper. You feel good, but Wyll is more focused on you. Imprinting you into his memory, like tonight is the last time he’d ever get to see you. 

“If I could go back, to any time - I think I’d go back to being seventeen,” Wyll says with a smile, dropping himself closer to you. He leans up on his arm, noses brushing tenderly as you hiccup “I would tell Wyll from then to be strong. Become a Blade that can defend for the one who will become your shield.” 

You look up at him teary and frustrated. Your arms wrap around his neck as you cry, and Wyll laughs a little. Everything is so warm. He loves you. 

“If you’re any kinder to me, I don’t know what’ll become of me. Ugh, my eyes sting.” 

Wyll can’t help his smile. “We’ll have to see it through, then.” 

“Stop being so romantic and fuck me.” 

He kisses your hairline. “As you wish.” 

Wyll puts his hands up under your knees, folding you underneath him as he finally bottoms out. You both moan as you feel Wyll fill you up. You kiss him in that position, all desperation - tongue and teeth. Wyll is startled but indulges, a grinding thrust making you mewl into his mouth. He swallows the noise. 

“Fuck me,” You huff, your eyes bleary. “I can—can feel you in my stomach,” 

Wyll groans. 

You feel incredible. Wyll has to stop moving to steady his mind. He wants to last a little longer than a few seconds if he can help it. Your cunt wraps around his cock like silk. Sticky walls clinging to him like a vice, pulsing with need at the slightest movement. Wyll is connected to you in such an intimate way, it makes him feel visceral. Almost possessive. You hold on like you want to milk him for all he’s worth.

He takes another long breath, steadying himself as he pulls out and slams himself back in. You cry out in response to the first thrust, but you don’t ask him to slow down. Wyll focuses on keeping his thrusts weighted and steady, something constant enough that your focus doesn’t break. He wants to make you cum again, and he knows better what you need now. He keeps you pinned underneath the weight of him as he finds a pace to move to. 

Once he finds it, Wyll fucks you without abandon. You hold onto him tight, nose nudged against his neck as you let out the tiniest whimpers he’s ever heard you make. The pleasure debases you completely, makes you all wild. Wyll likes seeing you fall apart with each movement. Every time he pistons the right spot your eyes go wide and flutter back closed as if it’s too much. 

The two of you make a mess. Wyll can hear his cock pull and push the arousal out of you - each thrust wet. It’s messy enough to make your skin stick together. 

“Wyll,” You say his name like it’s a prayer of your goddess. Something to save you. Some kind of sacrilege that Wyll feels no guilt for. “I love you, I love you. Fuck—fuck me,” 

“You’re my whole life,” Wyll grunts. “I’ll give you everything. Everything, my love.” 

“I’m close,” Your voice is hoarse as you say it. “I’m so close, just a little—” 

Wyll knows what you’re asking for. His hand sneaks between your bodies, palm resting on your tummy as his thumb messy circles on your puffy clit. You choke on your words, a broken thank you among the mess as Wyll keeps fucking you. Determined to make you cum one more time, he goes and goes and goes. 

Wyll can feel you cum before you can tell him. You try to announce it, but the words don’t come out. He can feel your hesitance, feeling something in you as your teeth graze his necks. 

“You can bite me. I can withstand it, love”  

A pained whine is followed by the sharp feeling of your teeth in Wyll’s shoulder, as your voice breaks out into a howl. When you cum, you cum hard. Harder than before like you’re trying to latch onto him, your whole body going rigid before the tension breaks. Your orgasm crashes into you. You gasp as Wyll fucks you through it. He keeps fucking you through it until he feels you’ve calmed down. 

“Cum, Wyll. For me, please.” 

It’s enough to drive Wyll to the very edge. His desire reaches an impressive high. His thrusts become shallow, sloppy - the wet sound of him fucking you open finally reaching his ears as he gives into his own needs.  Wyll cums hard. He bottoms out as he does, thick white ropes painting your insides as the two of you lay with each other. 

When Wyll finally catches his breath and starts to go soft, he pulls away to look at you. You’re frowning at him. 

“Is something—” 

“Being sweet to me like that in the middle of that is unfair. I’m going to hold it against you.” 

Wyll pauses before breaking out into a giggle. 

“I was worried for a minute.” 

“I love you.” You add, a little softer time. “Thank you for coming to find me.” 

“Always.” Wyll replies, hugging you to him. “I adore you, you know.” 

__ 

EPILOGUE: 

You return to camp together at the end of your tenday. 

Wyll is covered in all sorts of marks by the time you’ve arrived, and so are you. There’s not really anything to do to hide that. Or to hide the fact he’s utterly exhausted by the whole thing. He’s drained, though he thinks he could do it again if he timed it better. 

It was nice to spend an entire tenday together, though. In between having sex or Wyll meeting your needs - you ate and slept and bathed together. Despite your circumstances the entire situation was domestic - and Wyll enjoyed being with you. 

You are absolutely chipper and uncaring about the situation. Wyll wishes he could be a little more like you in this case. 

The first person to see you at camp is Karlach. 

“Well, look who it is!” Karlach chirps, absolutely delighted. “The lovebirds are back,” 

The whole camp stirs at the announcement. It’s early enough that everyone is still at camp. Wyll feels his skin prick with heat as you leave his side, prancing over to Karlach to chat with her. Back to your usual self, Wyll feels a specific fondness about having seen a new side of you and remaining so unchanged. 

“Oh, you’ve returned?” Astarion says. Wyll looks up, surprised. 

“Ah, uhm, yes.” 

Astarion stands next to Wyll with his arms crossed. 

“Have you finally done it or do I have to endure more of your incessant pining?” 

Wyll chokes on his spit. 

“You’re losing your touch Astarion,” Shadowheart says, shuffling into camp from behind Wyll with a towel that needs to be dried. “That one over there is chipper and this one can barely look at them. Shouldn’t that tell you all you need to know?” 

“Tsk. You’re right. Congratulations are in order, I suppose. Or some celebration. At least I won’t have to see you two eye-fucking each other every day. It was getting dire..” 

“I wouldn’t be so confident,” Shadowheart says. “He’s doing it right now even after they spent a tenday wrapped in each other's arms.” 

Astarion sighs. “Gods. Can’t have anything these days.” 

Wyll opts not to say anything, handling them with usual grace. 

“Thanks for the congratulations,” Wyll says, staring at you idly. “Hope it wasn’t too difficult without us.” 

“Hardly.” 

Wyll smiles at that. He watches you as you talk to Karlach animatedly, smiling a little harder. He can take as much teasing as they dish out. 

He could endure it ten times over, as long as he gets to be with you. 

☾ a/n ; whew… we've made it to the end. i wrote this fic in a whopping 12 days. it was a crazy experience especially since i havent written anything i'd personally consider substantial since like.. idk april 2023. i also mostly write for anime so its a little nervewracking specifically writing for bg3. THAT BEING SAID. i love wyll. i started playing the game for him and he has bewitched me mind body and soul. it is rather disheartening to see how much larian dgaf about him so i guess part of me writing this is also trying to convince people to see what i see in wyll. something something that joan didion quote about writing as a form of violence bc of imposing views something something.

wyll is a really moving character to me. i like characters who are categorically so righteous it drives them to the destruction of themselves.

but the specific dichotomy of wyll - a man who has lost every ounce of agency time and time again with this tav was especially consuming. tav too is considered a monster, but they embrace and love this part of themselves. i think witnessing that, and the reframing monstrosity in wylls case is really helpful for him. tav doesnt know what losing their agency is like, but they're able to restructure wylls belief of what this new body of his is worth. that he is worthy all the same, and that he exists outside of being the blade. these sorts of things haunted me during this. but also… i just wanted to see wyll bang a desperate heat addled werewolf shorty. lol.

ANYWAYS. sorry for this MASSIVE wall of text. i just really love wyll so much and i hope this iteration of him felt in line with who he is. and if you're not a wyll fan and just a fic consume well… i hope i was able to compel you towards him a bit. in any case, thanks for reading! and please do leave a comment if you liked it! all feedback appreciated.

also i dont normally ask but if you could rb this fic if you liked it'd be appreciated </3 im trying to find wyll likers ehdjksjf

#wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #bg3 x reader #wyll smut #bg3 smut #writing tag #cant wait to post this so i may be free from whatever demon possessed me while writing this.

[awearywritersworld]

A misunderstanding makes you feel insecure.

Haikyu x Reader w/c: 1.4k // 1.1k warnings: just a lil angst, but fluffy endings. a/n: back on my haikyu bullshit bc life is tough rn and i needed something pure and wholesome. post!timeskip, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader characters: Tsukishima Kei // Kuroo Tetsuro

masterlist

Tsukishima Kei

When Tsukishima first met you in university, he had taken notice of you, though you didn’t really start talking until you were paired for a research assignment. While he was just a tad nervous when you invited him to your apartment to work on it, he didn’t mind as you lived nearby.

An observant person, Tsukishima soon took note of your little quirks, many of which he silently regards as endearing. Your eyes would widen, sparkling with interest as you stumbled upon new articles and discoveries during your research. You always brewed a fresh pot of tea and grabbed something extra at the bakery when you knew he was coming over.

When he told you he plays volleyball for the Sendai Frogs, he was taken aback by how interested you seemed. He informed you about his position and that he started playing because of his older brother. Pink dusted his cheeks when you asked if you could attend his next match, which he agreed to. During the match, a few of his teammates gave him nudges and sly smirks. "You just seem really into the game today, Tsukishima-kun."

Your friendship persisted even after your project had been turned in, and while Tsukki was surprised, he also found that he was relieved. He enjoyed your company, after all. The thought of parting ways with you made his heart skip a beat like some lovesick teenager.

Toward the end of the semester, you're approaching the lecture hall you share with Tsukishima when you spot him talking to one of your classmates, a girl. The sight makes your stomach flip and you freeze, watching their interaction from afar.

"I just wanted to give you this, Tsukishima-kun," she begins nervously, handing him a box of sweets wrapped in pink paper.

"Oh, thanks." His tone is unexpressive as ever.

"You play volleyball, right? Maybe I could come to watch you sometime!"

She's barely finished speaking before he responds, "sorry, but I don't really like having people come to my games. You know, focus and all..."

He trails off and she tries her best to recover. "O-Okay! No problem! I'll see you around."

She scurries away and you can just barely hear him grumble something about annoying admirers and wanting to be left alone. You realize you stopped breathing at some point and all you can think while you harshly exhale is 'oh, god.'

Over the past few months, you had certainly developed a crush on Tsukishima. You feel awful about having gone to quite a few of his games when, evidently, he must have found it irritating. You're staring into nothing with wide eyes when you hear your name being called.

Your head snaps in the direction it came from and your gaze meets Tsukishima's as he approaches you. He greets you as he usually does and you stutter out a reply. Walking into the classroom together, he's squinting at you out of the corner of his eye. It's clear to him that something is up.

"You okay?" he asks as you both slide into your usual seat beside one another.

"Of course!"

That's how the next few days pass--- he knows something is wrong and you pretend that everything is fine. You're quieter than usual and you haven't invited him to hang out at all. Since you're typically the one to take initiative, Tsukishima is left feeling a little lost.

When you don't come to his next game, he finally decides he's going to have to figure out how to resolve whatever is going on. It's already dark outside by the time the team finishes, but he still heads in the direction of your apartment.

With each step, he wracks his mind trying to figure out what the hell he's even going to even say. Did he do something wrong? Have you grown tired of him and his cynicism?

Standing in front of your apartment door, it occurs to him that you might not even be home. He knocks apprehensively and the door swings open a few moments later.

"Tsukki!" you squeak out.

You're in your pajamas, a sight he's never seen before, and it makes his mind go blank. He tries desperately to keep his eyes from trailing down to your thin top and flannel shorts.

"Can I come in?" he finally asks.

"S-sure!" you step aside. "I'll go get some tea started."

He can't help but smile as you hurry off, thinking you might be the cutest person he's ever met. Instead of making his way to the couch, he leans against the doorframe to the kitchen. "Do you need a hand?"

"That's alright, it'll just be a few minutes," you say, reaching up to a high shelf for a tin of tea leaves.

He's behind you in an instant, his body pressed to your back as he grabs the one he knows is your favorite. "This one, right?"

"Yeah, thanks!"

Shocked your voice doesn't betray you, your heart is now hammering in your chest with impossible force. He's still close behind you as he sets it down on the counter. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, he takes a step back.

Once you finish filling the kettle, he speaks up. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

Setting it down on the stove and turning on the burner, you turn to give him your full attention. "Always."

The way you look up at him expectantly makes him swallow and clear his throat. "I was wondering if everything is okay?"

"What do you mean, Tsukki?"

"Um, you just haven't seemed like yourself the past few days."

He hopes his vague answer is enough, but you tilt your head to the side. "How so?"

If he didn't know any better, he'd think you were trying to torture him.

"Well, you've been less talkative," he nearly winces at how pitiful he sounds. "And then when you didn't come to my game tonight..."

He can't think of what else to say, cursing the way his cheeks heat up. You hardly notice though, too caught up in your own embarrassment and avoiding his eye.

"Oh, that!" you laugh nervously. "You see, I may have... overheard you talking to our one classmates the other day..."

The look on his face tells you he has no idea what you're referring to.

"She gave you a gift a-and asked to come to see you play, but you told her you didn't like when people came to your games." You're talking very quickly by this point. "I-I didn't want to annoy you-"

Tsukishima's eyes nearly pop out of his head in disbelief and he starts to laugh at the situation, but you think he's laughing at you. At first, he fails to notice that tears have begun to slip down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry Tsukki," you apologize, lip quivering.

That gets his attention right away, a look of horror taking over his features.

"No, no, no! I wasn't- I didn't mean to laugh!" His words are jumbled and he tries his best to slow them. "It's just that you're not people, you're... you."

"Oh," you say while wiping at your eyes, not quite yet processing the meaning behind his words.

You still seem so sad and it tugs at Tsukishima's chest, making him panic.

"I like you!" he blurts out and your watery eyes dart up toward his face. "I'm sorry, I thought I was more obvious about it than I was. I-I missed seeing you in the stands tonight and talking to you in class and coming over afterward and-"

He keeps rambling on and you think it might be the longest you'd ever heard the usually very matter-of-fact man speak for. He only stops when you start to giggle, your hand covering your mouth in an attempt to hide it.

The kettle suddenly whistles, breaking any sort of tension that might have lingered between the two of you. You swiftly remove it from the heat before turning back to him.

"I like you, too, Tsukki."

He breathes a sigh of relief, eyes flicking between each of your own. His honesty just moments ago has him surprised and while he'd usually be uncomfortable in a situation like this, oddly enough, he's not.

There's a ghost of a smile adorning his face and he spends a second just looking at you. 'You're... you,' he considers his words from earlier and knows that this is what he meant. You're different from most people. You make him feel at ease.

"You should call me Kei," he states simply, before moving to prepare the tea just the way he knows you like it.

Kuroo Tetsuro

One afternoon, Kuroo stopped by the coffee shop across from his office building downtown. Pulling the door open, he caught the reflection of a person around his age in the glass. As he moved so that he could hold it open for you, you thanked him with a small smile.

You caught his attention, dressed for some seemingly important job, your hair just a touch messy, but in a way that looked good. While you waited in line, he asked you about your day and his charming small talk left you a blushing mess.

You were in front of him in line, but once you finished telling the barista what you wanted, he stepped up to add his own drink to the order. "On me, of course."

Two years later, you're living together in a cozy apartment and you couldn't be happier. Kuroo is everything you could ever ask for--- charismatic, reliable, thoughtful. It was even his idea that the two of you go out for dinner after work every Thursday.

So when that day of the week finally rolls around, you finish your tasks for the day and head over to his nearby office to meet up. You get off the elevator on his floor and make your way down the hallway, noticing his door is open a few inches. You stop once you hear voices inside.

“Isn’t it hard having a partner, though? I mean, always having someone around, not being able to relax and do your own thing.”

The voice is unfamiliar and your head tilts to the side as you listen.

Your boyfriend chuckles, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “I suppose they can be a lot sometimes.” 

Inwardly, Kuroo reflects on your late-night bouts of energy when he’s half asleep, your ramblings about the newest show you’ve been watching (he truly does try his hardest to keep up), your habit of constantly asking him for reassurance even though you’re so far out of his league it’s unreal. 

You can’t see the fond smile that bashfully plays on his lips or hear the thoughts running through his mind. Left with just his words alone, you deflate as you’re overcome by embarrassment. 'Well, he's not wrong,' you think.

“Then what’s the point?” the other person wonders.

You can’t bear to hear Kuroo's answer, so you move away from the door and attempt to swallow the lump in your throat. The fact that you’re about to burst into tears at his work, of all places, is probably why he thinks the way he does. A humorless laugh passes your lips as you berate yourself. You dip into the bathroom and force yourself to take a few deep breaths before anyone can see you.

If only you had waited a few moments longer, you would have heard Kuroo's response. "I figured out pretty quickly they could be a handful sometimes, but it's part of what made me love them, you know?"

"No, gross. Don't go all sappy on me, senpai," the young intern rolls his eyes.

It just makes Kuroo laugh, "you asked! Now get out of my office and go tell them you'd love to get dinner with them tonight."

The intern grumbles as he leaves, but Kuroo doesn't miss the grin tugging at his lips. "After you finish your work for the day, of course," the older man hollers from his seat.

Finally having composed yourself, you exit the bathroom, passing the intern and greeting him politely.

You knock once you reach the door to Kuroo's office and his eyes light up, "hey, sweetheart!"

His tie has already been loosened for the evening and his hair is a bit disheveled.

"Hey, Tetsu," you say sheepishly. Even now, he still makes your stomach flutter.

"I just need a few minutes to finish this up," he informs.

"Sure, take your time!"

You try your best to make your voice sound bright and move to take a seat on the couch that's tucked against the wall. Kuroo returns his attention to the computer, but he quickly realizes you're quiet. Weirdly quiet. He peeks over at you and you're just sitting there on your phone with a blank expression.

The soft clicking of his keyboard stops. He says your name and you hum in acknowledgment. "What's on your mind?"

You glance over to find that he's looking at you, his body leaning over his desk in your direction. The expression he wears is a gentle one. His obvious concern and the fact he's already picked up on your vexation are enough to arouse the emotions you'd hopelessly tried to bury earlier. In an attempt to hide your tears, you avert your eyes. The action immediately has Kuroo rising from his seat.

"Hey, hey, hey," he frets, sitting beside you and putting a hand on your knee. "Look at me, what happened?"

The sight of you like this makes his heart squeeze tightly in his chest and when you finally turn to him, his eyes are burning with worry.

"It's nothing, it's dumb," you dismiss, waving your hand.

"Sweetheart, don't say that. Something's got you all worked up." He brushes your hair behind your ear. "Talk to me."

"I-I'm sorry" you choke out.

"There's no reason to be-"

"I know I can be a lot sometimes," you add, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

Realization and guilt descend upon him in tandem. "You heard-"

"Only some of it!" you clarify before he finishes, "I-I didn't mean to listen in on you, I just-"

He boops your nose, making your words stop in your throat. "You just didn't stay and listen to the part where I told him you it's what makes me love you so much."

He's got a little grin on his face, refraining (with some difficulty) from calling you a dork.

"You said that?"

He hums, "of course I did."

A moment passes and he can sense you're still feeling unsure of yourself, so he continues. "I can be passive and a bit... emotionally closed off at times. It makes me admire how expressive you are and how strongly you react to things, both good and bad."

Touched by his words, you feel all your anxiety ebb away, replaced by a warm feeling in the center of your chest. "Then you'll be happy to know that is perhaps the sweetest thing anyone has ever said and it makes my heart want to explode."

"Ah, see! There it is!" he beams and stands up, offering you his hand.

Once you rise to your feet, he places a kiss firmly on your temple.

"Alright, the rest of this can wait," he decides as he grabs his bag, turns off his computer, and slips his fingers through your own. "I'm all yours."

#m!writes #haikyu #haikyu imagines #haikyu imagine #haikyu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tsukishima imagines #tsukishima kei imagines #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro imagines #tsukishima kei #kuroo tetsuro #tsukishima #kuroo #kuroo imagines #tsukishima kei imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine

[oonajaeadira]

i was rereading a GTTT chapter and Patricio has just been in my mind rent free, creeping in from daydreams in places i should not be daydreaming. So I’ve got a PATS question for you. How would Patricio and Reader navigate the issue of him being too drained sexually when Reader is needy?

Hello, lovely.

First of all, I want to apologize for the long hiatus I've taken on Pats and Pres. This ask--and many more--have been sitting in my inbox for far too long and I'd like to think that answering late is better than never. Thank you for your patience with me!!!

This is a very interesting question and it sparked some over-arching thoughts. I have half an answer for you here--from his point of view, and therefore the "drained" part of it. Pres may not seem too needy here, but look to the next installment for more on that.

Also, a non-apology here to everyone.

For so long I've made you believe that Patricio is confident, in control...or at least in denial about it when he's not. But he's growing. Changing. There may be more vulnerability here than you want and much less sexy times. Not everyone has a good day every day.

Kiss and Tell: Everyone's Allowed a Bad Day (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content. (This one's much tamer than most.)

(gif by cavill-henry)

It’s nights like these that he sometimes wished he smoked. He’ll pour himself a drink once the client wakes up and leaves, but he doesn’t want her to catch it on his breath.

Bourbon. Bath. Bed. Maybe something short and calm on streaming. There’s a new cowboy film just dropped by that Spanish director looks good. 

Leaning on the kitchen counter and staring out across the silent living room, he contemplates the novel you left on the coffee table. Wonders if you’re missing it.

It occurs to him that he could call you. He can do that now. He doesn’t need a reason anymore, but even if the reason is a rough day…actually, maybe that’s even more reason to call you. In fact, he really should ask you–

His phone vibrates on the countertop and he frowns. It’s your pattern and his heart races a little, not only because it’s you, but thinking he’s been lost in thought too long, that he’s missed the three-hour mark. But a flip of the phone shows him he’s got 20 minutes to go. 

Odd. It’s not like you to interrupt a session.

“Hey, muñeca, everything okay?” he mumbles, stepping barefoot out onto the front porch in nothing but his sweatpants.

Your voice sounds far away, “Oh shit,” before a riffling sound and then a clearer, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit dial. I didn’t know I did. I was going to call and then I saw the time…I know you’re in the middle of a session, oh loverboy I’m so sorry–”

Just the sound of your voice is an instant balm. “It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s sleeping. I was actually just thinking about calling you.”

“Oh, really?” There’s something there behind your fluster, hiding among the smile in your voice, something that he might not have noticed if you hadn’t said you meant to call.

“Something you wanted to call me about?”

There’s a sound in the background. An announcement. You’re in public. “Um, no, not really. I just had a lonely moment, that’s all.”

“Well that’s an ego boost. You wanna come spend the night?”

There’s a pause. Shocked, judging by your voice. “Really? On an appointment night?”

He scratches his head and focuses on his feet as he aimlessly paces the porch. “Sure. I mean, if like a quarter after ten isn’t too late for you to drive just to go to bed.”

“With the weather shifting and how warm you run? It’s never too late to say yes to a heated bed.”

He smiles. “Glad I can be of service.” There's silence from you and he cringes. “Shit. Not you– not– Was that a bad choice of word?”

“No. It’s just–”

“Hey. I want you here tonight. I wanna talk to you.” Another silence. He supposes that sounds ominous. It shouldn’t. “You know, here. Not…on a phone.” He’s still not good at this. 

“That sounds nice…. You, uh, need anything? I’m at the grocery store.”

“No. Just you.” It feels good to say. Right. It’s what’s needed to break what feels like an odd tension into a few comfortable, mutually smiling moments. “So. The grocery store. And you’re feeling lonely. At a grocery store.”

Your laughter--hushed but musical--is kept close to the phone. “Well I am standing in produce and they just got in some preeeeeetty nice looking eggplants.”

“Wow.”

Another laugh, less hushed, throatier. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll let you get back to your work. I assume you’ve got a sleeping beauty to wake up.”

Pulling the phone away from his face for a timecheck, he winces. “Yeah. I’ll see you in 20?”

“I’d say I can’t wait, but you know that I will.”

Wow. “I know and I…”Something sweet twists inside. “I know.”

After you hang up he stands a minute more on the porch in the dark. The leaves are almost all off the trees now, the crickets are gone. His feet are freezing and the skin on his torso is goosebumping; doing its best–and failing–to lift his fine hairs to shield him from the autumn chill. But it’s far from unpleasant and he finds that he’s awake for the sensation in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

He’s alive again in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

The last couple of months have been…nothing short of amazing.

He should tell you that. He should say it.

But he’s got to get to that point where…he accepts it. 

Not the relationship…the fact that there’s always a possibility it’s too good to be true, that he could lose it. He could lose you.

You’re handling everything so well, but for how long? How long until you make him choose?

Oh fuck, please don’t make me choose, preciosa, please.

The phone buzzes in his hand. Timer; no need to look, just thumbs the button to silence. On another night, he’d allow himself more time, let the client sleep while he mused. But he’s got a job to do. 

And someone special arriving soon.

So he packs these thoughts away and goes quietly inside to prepare.

________

He’s just poured the detergent in the washing machine when he hears the door open. “Hey, I’m just cleaning up, gimme a second.”

Out in the entry, your shoes clatter on the floor and then your keys jingle on the kitchen counter and before he knows it you’re on him, topless and crowding him against the washing machine, kissing him like he’s just come back from war. It’s jarring but pleasant and full of hungry sighs…until there’s a ping in his calf muscle.

“Ooh, hey, Pres, hey hey, hang on.” Taking your face in his hands he calms, he whispers, he soothes you in order to soothe himself, but you catch on instantly, concern splashing over you.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

A kiss to the tip of your nose, to your smart little nose. “No, no, I’m a little sore; just had a difficult session–a difficult day, actually. And I haven’t showered yet. So don’t get yourself too worked up here. You don’t want me like this.”

He expects you to recoil from this, to find the sex with someone else still lingering on his skin. You don’t.

You simply run your hands over his sides, lean in to kiss his chin. “Of course I do. I want you like whatever you are.”

You’re backlit from the kitchen and there’s something like a soft halo around you, bringing a glow to the roll of your cheeks, the swipe of your lip. Tracing these with a finger and finding himself reflected in your eyes, he trusts you, accepts this, tries to see himself like you do. How are you so effortless?

There’s nothing but surrender when you rake your fingers through his beard and push yourself up onto tiptoe to press a warm kiss to his forehead. “But if you really feel that way, beautiful, let me run you a bath.” 

Everytime he opens his eyes and you’re there, it's like a small miracle.

“Come on,” you smile, taking his hand and guiding him to the stairs, “let me take care of you and you can tell me about your day.”

You’re perfect. He’s so grateful he picked up the phone tonight when he did.

________

“Mmmmm, that’s good.” The sigh comes up from his bottom wells, like a contented creature crawling out of hidden caverns within. The back of his head rests in your palm, warm water spilling over his scalp. Your hands whisper and calm and soothe. He spends so much time using his touch to bring relaxation to others that he’d all but forgotten that it could go the other way. And your touch–

“So there was some heavy lifting tonight, huh?” Your finger lightly wipes away an errant rivulet from the corner of his eye. “Ness, right?”

The ghost of irritation looms. “Mmm. She has a pretty severe tailbone injury. Didn’t tell me about it before she showed up. Lot of full-body lifting on the table just to get her in the right positions for stretch.”

“I see. You’ll feel it tomorrow. And sore tailbone means no actual sex tonight.”

“Oh no, we had some fun. She’s got weeks of recovery ahead of her and she needed some practice re-routing some natural orgasm responses to different muscle groups when she ejaculates.”

“Ejaculates? She…? Ohhh.” A loving hand begins to wander lightly over his chest. “I assumed. My bad.”

“Sorry. Should have been more clear. But yeah.”

“No need to apologize. I don’t know why I hadn’t just assumed that you…took all forms of payment.”

He peeks an eye open to catch your reaction as you reach over the side of the tub toward him and finds your warm, curious smile. “Not to disparage the vaginal anatomy, but sometimes it’s nice to have my dick handled by someone who has a lifetime experience with their own.”

“Noted. Fair.”

Closing his eyes and sinking into the warm bath of your care a lifetime goes by with your hands running over his skin.

“You’re very accommodating.”

A kiss lands on his temple. “Wait until you realize I’m terribly selfish and am in it for the rewards points.” When his smile fades, your hands slow. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” Sensing a shift in tone coming when he turns to you, you instinctively pull back, but he catches your hand in his, pulling it in to place a wet kiss to your knuckles. “Would you mind if I don’t want to have sex tonight?”

“Of course. That’s okay.” A half-smile. Are you covering disappointment?

“I’m more than happy to go down on you if you–”

But a shake of your head stops him. “No, it's fine. I can tell you’re tired. You said you had a hard day. Wanna tell me about it while we get you dried off and into bed?”

He feels like a child as he simply nods, allows you to help him up, succumbs to you as you care for him. It’s easy to do, to melt under your attention, to crack open and spill. He does his best not to control the spread as he generalizes a failed report at work, a difficult project he’s fallen behind on. By the time you’re sliding into the sheets and curling up next to him, he’s breaching the topic he’s been deciding and undeciding and deciding again to tell you about–that his mother called without warning.

“She wants to meet you.”

Your breathing stills in the darkness. “You told your mom about me.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I..” you stutter, “I guess I didn’t… I’m flattered that you talk about me?”

There’s a pang of guilt that he’s let you believe you’re not important enough for him to tell the world that you’re in his life. But he sighs as you squeeze your arm around his middle. “You might feel differently if you met her.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to meet your…is it just your mom?”

“And my father. I have an older brother but he lives in Australia. Doesn’t go home much.”

“Home issssSantiago?”

“Just outside of it. Rancagua.”

Another squeeze. Perhaps that was a lie; your arm around him and the brush of your lips on his shoulder feels like his true home now. 

“So this call was stressful because she wants to meet me. And you’re nervous?”

“The call was stressful because…I don’t…want her to meet you.” Your squeeze lightens a bit and he slides his grip over your arm in case you decide he’s awful and want to pull away. He knows he should let you go if you want to but– “I wanted to ask you, Pres…I’m sorry I don’t know if I can ask this much from you but–”

It almost breaks his heart when your arm slides through his hand, when your warmth leaves his side, when you abandon him…

But it’s only for the time it takes to hear the click of the bedside lamp, register the bright sting and spill of light, and you’re back beside him, leaning over him, turning his face to yours with one patient hand on his cheek. “What’s going on. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Shit. Get it together.

“You’re going to think I’m a fucking jerk–”

“Don’t tell me what you think I’m going to think, sir. Tell me what you need from me. Just say it.”

This leaves him with depleted gambling chips, raises the stakes. But you’re right. He has to be honest.

“The relationship I have with my family is…strained. That’s why I live here and not there. I see them somewhat regularly, but the holidays are when the whole family gets together–all the cousins–and it’s just a lot. There’s a lot that’s expected, a lot of judgements…it’s overwhelming. I can barely make it through myself, but having you there? Watching you be scrutinized on top of it when we’re just figuring this out? I just…no.”

“You know I won’t tell them–”

“It’s not that, fuck, it’s not that.” He surges in for a kiss, taking you in deep, willing you to understand him by osmosis; if only… “Every time I’ve gone down for the holidays it’s stressful enough…it’s…it’s bad enough that I’m away from my clients, but–”

“But under stress the itch gets worse. And you don’t have your outlet. And you’re not in control.”

Oh god, you see him. You see him and he’s so…fucking pathetic.

The last thing he expects is for you to pepper kisses along his mouth and chin, to dot a lingering one on his cheek before pulling him into your chest, to cradle him, breathe into his hair.

But it’s exactly what you do.

“What do you need, beautiful boy? Anything you want.”

He breathes. Sighs. Curses himself for doubting you, for assuming you wouldn’t surprise him. Allows you to hold the weight of his heart on your own without a spotter.

“I need to…not do the ‘meet the family’ thing this year. I just want you to myself for a while.”

A hum of sympathy, of bittersweetness, one that stakes his heart into the ground at your feet. “Oh Patricio. Is that all?” Your breast moves under his cheek as you lean over to turn off the light, your soft curves and soft scent and soft hum whispering to him, calming him, soothing him into you. “I’ll admit that I’m a little sad that I don’t get to show you off to my family, but I definitely see the appeal of a quiet holiday season, just us hiding away from the world together. You want me to yourself? Did you really think I would find that anything but absolutely wonderful?”

All at once, the strains of the day overtake him, the need to say more is gone and took his energy to do so right along with it. A whole lifetime of relief in just an hour. That’s your secret power. Always has been. He cannot think of words more meaningful than, “Thank you.”

Your fingertips begin their pattern of affection along his jaw, tattooing a spell of sleep through him. “This really means a lot to you, huh.” He’s too gone to get his voice to work and it seems you assume he’s fallen asleep. “Well you mean the world to me. You don’t even know, mister.”

It’s not worth the effort to drag himself from the downward pull of dreams to ask you to say more about that. Not when he knows you’ll be right here in the morning and he can ask you then.

Or say the same thing right back to you.

Maybe this time he’ll find a way to do that.

______

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#good things take time #pedro across the street #calls fanfiction #23

[malleux]

performance anxiety.

-> lyney x fem!famous singer!reader

-> warnings: mentions of past bad relationship, anxiety, no use of y/n

-> words: 3.4k

[a/n]: this was not supposed to be this long but. not proofread, idk what universe this is in where all of these characters are friends but shut up. i just started writing, gun to my head i could not tell you what happens in this story

Applause. Roses. Adoration. Entertainment. 

You craved the effervescence of the spotlight. The thrill of being on stage. Millions of eyes are on you and you alone– coming together for the sole purpose of viewing you. 

It seemed a bit voyeuristic, but you couldn’t care less as the final notes of your song rang out across stages all over the country and applause replaced the roaring in your ears. People stood as they clapped, whooping and hollering. All for you. 

You stood before them night after night, baring the roughest edges of yourself on the stage for them all to judge. You were vulnerable to every attack possible– verbal, physical, emotional. Yet none occurred, save for the dozens of flowers that showered you every night as you completed a performance flawlessly once again. 

It was only after you made it backstage to your dressing room that you finally took a breath. A very shaky, very exhausted breath. Stagehands ran back and forth, putting up props and fixing light fixtures for someone else’s performance the next night, but they reassured you that nobody could possibly outshine you after you had christened the Opera Epiclese. 

Your first performance in Fontaine. In your hometown. 

“That was amazing!” Your manager burst through the door, a cup of water in her hands. She passes it to you. “One of your best performances yet– not that the others were bad! Quite the opposite, actually–”

“I get it. Thank you.” You chewed on your lip, gazing at yourself in the mirror. You looked frazzled up close with the stage makeup slightly smeared across your face. Not enough for the audience to notice, though. No, to them, you were perfection. “I hope they thought the same.”

“Are you kidding? You were amazing. I bet you made at least ten men think about leaving their wives for you tonight.” You cut your eyes at her, and she backtracked immediately. “I-I mean! Oh, that was such a bad analogy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” 

It really wasn’t fine, but you weren’t going to make your friend-turned-manager feel any worse than she already does for bringing up the past. You weren’t married– Archons, no– but you lived a fast life that not many were equipped to handle, especially if they were staying home while you traveled Teyvat on a tour. 

Your ex couldn’t handle you and your lifestyle, so he handled others in bed instead. 

It didn’t sting as bad as you would have expected it to. You couldn’t take the time to grieve, not when there was a performance in Natlan the night you found out. Other performers and those who lived a more nomadic lifestyle had warned you about failed relationships and friendships with those who did not stay close or did not understand the busyness of traveling. You truly believed you were the exception, and now you realize that such relationships are impossible. You chose this life, thus giving up the idea of a simple love. Your friends were your manager and the crew that traveled with you, and that was that. You didn’t stay anywhere long enough to culminate true, meaningful connections with anyone. 

“Are you ready for the encore?” 

You swiped another layer of lipstick on and fluffed your hair in the mirror before turning back to your manager. 

“Born ready.” 

—---

Lyney sat on the edge of his seat for the past hour and a half and continues to do so, staring at the dark stage. 

His sister keeps a hand near his chair, just in case he somehow leans too far forward and falls out of it completely. She’ll never understand his infatuation with such a famous singer– it’s not like he had a shot with you anyway. Nevertheless, she made sure to surprise him with front-row tickets the minute she learned of your performance at Fontaine’s beloved Opera Epiclese. 

Lyney nearly cried in happiness and he’s nearly crying now, praying to every Archon above that you’re going to come out for an encore and that this isn’t the end of your show. The tears almost fall as the spotlight graces the stage once more and music fills the room. 

Everyone in Fontaine tried to get tickets for your performance and the most influential of citizens were sure to attend. Furina sat in the VIP box, leaning on her hand as she watched you step back onstage. She was quiet for once, enraptured by your voice. Clorinde was at her side. Neuvillette sat near the twins, seated but smiling. Charlotte and Navia were a bit further back, Charlotte furiously scribbling on her notepad to review the performance. She stopped writing halfway through, though, unable to stop herself from just enjoying the performance. Wriothesley and Sigewinne showed their faces from outside of the Fortress, the former succumbing to the latter’s pleas for tickets. Even Freminet was there, on the other side of Lyney, just happy to see his brother so happy. 

And yet there he was, sitting in the middle of the row, front and center. A perfect view. And there you were, in that jaw-dropping dress that sparkled perfectly in the lights, reflecting the same way the stars in the sky shined. Lyney was positive there were also stars in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it. 

And when the performance was over, Lyney finally sat back in his seat and exhaled a deep breath– one he had been holding since the minute you appeared onstage. 

Lynette looked him over as if to make sure he was okay and happy. She didn’t need any words to tell that he was over the moon. “Are you ready to go?”

“Just– just give me one minute.”

—---

“How long will you be in Fontaine?”

“Probably a week or two, at most.” You hummed, finally eating a snack left for you by the Hydro Archon herself. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I’d like to stay a bit longer.” 

“Hmm,” Furina’s finger tapped her chin– a clear sign that she was thinking. About what, nobody could tell. “How about another performance before you leave? Many people didn’t get tickets to this first show. You’ve had so many supporters from here since you started. Why not give them a special thanks? Especially me, since I’ve supported you and been your friend for all these years?” 

You squinted at her for a moment, trying to decipher what she could be devising in her head. You weren’t a mind reader, and Furina didn’t necessarily all have it going on in her head, so you opted to just ask her outright. “What could you possibly gain from that?” 

She reeled back, feigning offense. “Nothing! It’s-it’s just that it’s great for business. And we’re having special visitors soon who may want to see. Totally not because I want to watch it again– heh.”

“What special visitors?”

“Why, the Traveler and Paimon, of course!” Furina clapped, “Yes, yes. They’d love to see your performance.”

“Hm.” You continued staring at her, unconvinced that the legendary Traveler wanted to see your performance. But, you did get to perform again and get a part of the profits. You didn’t see why not. “Fine.” 

The squeal that came out of Furina’s mouth was enough to almost break your glass of water– a feat many singers trained to do for years and could not accomplish. Yet, your friend was close to doing it without even trying out of sheer excitement. 

She grabbed your hand once you were done changing clothes and dragged you out of the dressing room. You had no choice but to follow as she led you into the main room, where the audience sat. It looked much different from before with the lights on and the chairs empty. 

Except for two chairs, three people still present in the opera house. 

At the sound of her voice, the three turned around. There was a pair of twins and a younger blonde boy. The twin boy made eye contact with you and seemed to shoot straight up, becoming entranced as he saw you. This was typically a normal reaction for fans, but there was one difference this time. 

You were entranced too. 

Furina looked at the three and huffed. “Isn’t it time for you to go home?”

“Sorry, Lady Furina,” The youngest boy spoke and motioned to the other boy, whose face was bright red. “Lyney just needed to sit for a minute.”

“Is he okay?” You tilted your head, gently shaking free of Furina and walking to them. Furina gasped and crossed her arms, almost angry that she didn’t have your attention anymore as your self-titled “best friend”. “Your face is hot.” 

The twin girl hid her mouth with her hand. “He’ll be okay eventually. I think he got overheated or something. Got all nauseous and dizzy.”

“Oh my Gods, I’m so sorry!” You felt awful– you had told someone that you felt the air was a bit too hot in the audience, but you were brushed off. This just proved that you were right. “You all come with me, there’s fresh water and everything in the guest house I’m staying in tonight.”

You ushered everyone out of Opera Epiclese and into the small building next to it. It was the guesthouse, built solely for performers without a place to stay as they traveled. You were given it for your time in Fontaine and couldn’t be more grateful, especially at a time like this when someone is in need. 

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet– as you learned their names were– followed you and a pouting Furina into the house. You offered them all a seat on the couches and chairs before running to the kitchen and grabbing a bowl of cool water and a rag. You sat next to Lyney, who was silent the entire time, and neared his face as you put the rag on his forehead. You were a bit confused at Lynette and Furina’s snickering behind you, but you could only worry about the boy in front of you whose face turned even redder at your closeness. 

“Say,” Furina spoke up, “Lyney and Lynette here are performing at the Opera Epiclese tomorrow. Fancy a show?”

“Really?” You looked into Lyney’s eyes, “What do you do?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if he needed a glass of water. “Magic.”

“You’re magicians? No way!” You grinned, “I’ve always wanted to see a magic show live! Furina, I think we should go. I’d love to see more of these two.”

“I do too.” Lynette joined, “We can get you on the reservation list for front and center… unless you’d like to sit VIP with Furina?” 

“We’ll both sit front row. Neuvillette can have front row if he wishes to attend.” Furina grinned at Lynette, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out of something as you cared for Lyney. 

“Wonderful.” Lynette stands up, followed by Freminet. “I think Lyney just needs rest now, but we don’t live far in the Court of Fontaine. We probably need to head out before it gets too late.” 

You nod and hold your hand out to Lyney, who takes a second of staring before taking your hand and hoisting himself up. You both definitely hold on a bit too long to be typical for someone you just met, but exceptions could always be made. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Lynette.” You glance back at the boy at your side. “Lyney.” 

“Y-yes.” He speaks. You like his voice. “Tomorrow evening. I’d love to see you there.” 

After the three left, Furina stayed on your couch and stared. 

You sat across from her, staring back with a puzzled expression. 

This was the longest you’d ever heard her be quiet and it was incredibly unnerving. You couldn’t take much more of this. 

“What?”

Another beat of silence. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? What did I do?”

“You’ve never done that before.”

“Done what, Furina? I don’t have time for this–”

“Gotten all flustered like that. You don’t even dote on me like that and I’m your best friend.”

“Lynette said that he got overheated during the performance.” You defended, “I had to help him, I felt bad. I told the crew that it was too hot in there but they didn’t listen–”

“You’re stupid.” Before you could retort in offense, Furina leaned forward. “You haven’t been that open and nice since…” 

You’re glad she doesn’t finish that sentence– doesn’t let his name leave her mouth. Furina is right and you know it, but you definitely don’t want to admit that. Especially not to her. 

“I just felt bad.” She doesn’t believe you and you know it. “Fur, you know I can’t. People can’t keep up with my life. He’s cute, but I’m better off alone.” 

Furina looks away for a moment as if to think about what she’s going to say next for the first time ever. “He’s different.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“First, I know him better than you do. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with that crew, and I’m the Hydro Archon. I know everyone in Fontaine.” She twirls a finger around her hair– a telltale sign that she’s desperate for someone to listen to her. You want to oblige, but your mind won’t let you. “Lyney understands the life of a performer. Has he traveled? No. But I bet he’d be more than willing to travel with you as like– an opening act or something!” She snaps her fingers as if this is some sort of life-changing revelation. 

Your anxiety says otherwise. 

“What about Lynette and Freminet?”

“They can go with you!” She says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Lynette is Lyney’s assistant, so she has to go. Freminet would be good with helping with finances or something. Or if you happen to drop your wedding ring in the ocean, he can get it.”

“Wedding ring?”

“Yeah, for when you marry–”

A knock on the door interrupts her and you’ve never been happier. You give each other confused looks before you get up and open the door a crack. Behind it is a face all-too-familiar, and you open it wider. 

“I-uh, forgot my hat here.” Lyney, cheeks still rosy, rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“O-oh, of course!” You stammer out, leaving him at the door and finding his hat in one of the other chairs. Furina stares him down in a way that makes him feel like he’s intruding on a very important conversation, but he tries to brush it off as one of her theatrics. 

Lyney’s smile returns when you appear again, his hat in your hands, and tries to ignore the jump of his heart as his fingers accidentally brush yours when he takes it. “Thank you so much.” You watch as his figure begins to retreat from the guesthouse, but he quickly turns around and waves. “And I do hope to see you tomorrow.”

—---

Lyney does, in fact, get to see you tomorrow. 

Peeking through the curtain, he sees you front and center, sitting in the same exact seat that he was in the night before. Furina is at your side, chatting with you happily and ignoring the questioning whispers of her citizens as they question why she’s on the floor instead of in her box. Their questions cease when they see you. 

A bit of jealousy hits him as he sees some citizens ask for your autograph or come up to talk to you, but he can’t dwell on it long before Lynette is behind him. 

“Is she here?”

“Yes.” He lets out a nervous breath. “Everything has to be perfect tonight.” 

“It will be.” She reassures, “And don’t worry about anything else. I have it all covered. She’s come to see you and you alone, so you just focus on being the best you can be.”

Lyney has never been more grateful for his sister than he is at that moment. Sure, it was one thing when she accepted his schoolgirl crush on a famous singer, but when she was actually here, at their show, watching him, she was the best wingman in Teyvat. 

He peeked out of the curtain once more, his breath catching in his throat when he sees you looking directly at him. You wave and send him a soft smile and Lyney can feel his entire body heat up. He’s determined and ready for this show to start. 

And with a short countdown, it does. 

In most performances, Lyney keeps his eyes above the crowd. It’s an illusion many performers learn– don’t look directly at anyone specifically, it’s easier to quell the anxiety of thousands of eyes being on you, judging your every move. He knows you do this tactic as well, getting to witness it firsthand last night as you wowed the crowd from the very stage he was on tonight. He wondered how he could possibly be equal to such a wonderful performance and his mind gets a bit louder as doubts start plaguing him. As quickly as they come, however, they disappear. 

Lyney looks at you. 

You’re dressed beautifully, hair and makeup done simply as if to bare the real you. Oh, how Lyney longs to know the real you. 

You think it’s a funny coincidence when the first rose comes to you. Just a chance that a draft happened to send it directly into your lap after Lyney throws it into the crowd. Same with the second rose, that he passed off to you personally as he walked by after doing his switch trick with the box. You realize it’s not just some happenstance when the performance ends and you are left with a bouquet of roses in your hands, your face hot as Furina teases you. 

“Rainbow roses have special meaning in Fontaine, you know.” She grinned. You swatted her away. 

“I know.” You huff, “He probably uses those in every show to make the little lucky audience girl feel special.”

Furina opens her mouth to speak, but a voice from behind speaks up before she can. “I normally use Romaritime Flowers, and only pull one out of my hat, but I thought tonight I could do something a little different.”

Lyney prays you aren’t uncomfortable when you turn around– the adrenaline of the show is the only thing driving him to speak to you steadily right now, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he got rejected. He’s pleasantly surprised when you do turn around and your mouth is slightly agape, your cheeks darker than usual. He did his job. 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Keep them, they’re yours.” Lyney places his hands on yours to push them back when you go to give him back the bouquet, but he doesn’t remove them when you clutch the flowers to your chest. “This is my official offer– let me treat you to dinner.” 

You turn your head to give Furina a look, but she’s long gone. You make a note to curse her out later. 

“Lyney, I want to accept your offer. So badly. But I just know it won’t work.”

Seeing Lyney’s face fall almost makes you want to take it back, but you can’t. You can’t get hurt again. 

“Please,” His voice has gone soft, “How do you know that?”

“It’s happened before. I’m just protecting you. I’m going to be gone soon and you can forget about this little infatuation–”

“No!” Lyney blurts out but quickly composes himself. “You’re not protecting me, you’re protecting yourself. I’m not whatever man hurt you in the past. I’m a performer too, I can handle all the things that entails.” 

“Lyn… This is only my third country on my tour. I have so many more left, I’ll be gone for a very long time. It’s not fair to ask you to wait for me.”

“I think I get to decide what’s fair for me.” You don’t respond, looking away. Lyney takes your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “And I think that me waiting for you is a fair trade if it means you come back to me in the end. Please, ma chérie. Consider it.” 

You took a breath, weighing the options as seriously as the Oratrice. You think back to your conversations– the ones with your manager, the ones with Furina. Finally, you meet his eyes fully. Lyney hasn’t looked away, a softness in his eyes that you were not expecting.

“Let’s go to dinner. I’ve been thinking of hiring an opening act for the rest of the tour anyways. How do you feel about that?”

#lay speaks #fic blog #x reader #genshin impact #fanfiction #writing #lay writes #genshin impact x reader #not ask #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney fluff #lyney x y/n #genshin lyney #lyney and lynette #lynette #furina #freminet #female reader

[manjiroscum]

BELLADONNA

Character/s: merman!Manjiro Sano

Warnings: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, dark content, dub-con kissing, set in regency era, monsterfucking, amnesia, manipulation/brainwashing, mentions of multiple murders, death/murder, mystery, pregnancy, oviposition, mikey has a weird 🍆 + has sharp teeth and nails, infidelity (not towards reader), yandere mikey, hints of cannibalism (bc mikey is feral and darn possessive), and breeding. Minors do not interact.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKEY MY LOVE 🥺💕 also this is for bby vivi's @festive Things that go bump in the night collab

Synopsis: No matter how hard you try, the waters always lure you into their depths.

WC: 3.8k

Dark cumulonimbus clouds littered the whole sky that they almost formed a dome with their menacing size, promising heavy rain and strong winds in the area they deemed victims. The dreary day has somehow turned interesting with how the whole tiny village is buzzing with life due to preparations because the last time one hit the place was a year ago. It was a truly devastating time that caused deaths and many homes that had to be rebuilt. You were no exception to this—waking up by the shore with many cuts and strange marks on your flesh along with a hazy memory. Your family and friends said it was a miracle that you survived. Even your husband, who was still courting you at that time, was far too relieved to question how you ended up that way.

“I’m almost done, dear. You can eat first if you want to.”

Your gaze never left your husband’s figure shutting the windows and boarding them up to prevent the harsh winds and raindrops from entering. The ocean was as angry as the sky, waves rocky enough to drown an inexperienced person. Ships had to be docked while those who dared to go through a storm had already left by then. You were supposed to do your laundry by the stream that led to the ocean, however, it had to be postponed due to the nasty weather. The waters would be rising, enough to be seen as risky. Your whole form shuddered at the thought of swallowing those waters, nightmares of it continued to haunt you when you least expected it.

But there was always a person who saved you—a face you couldn’t make out because the nightmare always ended just as you were about to.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to finish.”

In such bad weather and the threat of flood, you normally would have gone to your friend’s house a few miles north to take shelter there. Yet, your husband was far more insistent today for you to remain here—indoors and never leave until the storm was gone no matter what happens. And unfortunately, even to this day, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that your friend died last year due to a mysterious illness that caused an uproar in the village after that storm. There was nowhere to go but to stay here. But for him to go this far by locking all the windows and doors, muttering under his breath the entire time. It was an odd sight, and frankly, you were worried by his actions.

Why on earth would he be placing barriers that prevented you from leaving easily when a flood may occur? Has he lost his mind?

Biting back your tongue from spilling your fears all over the floor, you tried to sit back and watch. Your hands on your lap were tightly gripping the white cloth of your dress in hopes that patience will not leave you as you waited for your husband to finish. Tonight’s dinner is already set and waiting for you both by the table. But, you lost your appetite when he finished and called for you to join him.

“Listen to me carefully, dear,” your husband spoke up suddenly in time as the thunder roared across the sky that almost frightened you. The flash of lightning was a bit disorienting. His usually gentle eyes were hard and left no room for any discussion. “You’re not to leave this house until the stream’s flow is back to its original state. You don't have to worry about food or anything you might need—I’ll get them. Just stay here until I deem it safe, alright?” His hand reached out to touch yours, squeezing it in a reassuring way. “I… I’ll protect you. You don’t have to feel confused or scared anymore. I promise you that.���

A good wife never talks back to her husband so you merely nodded. Afraid of what may occur if you tried to press on with your plaguing questions. You have heard of many tales of troublesome wives and crossing your husband was the last thing you wanted. But what he said, instead of silencing the doubts in your mind, merely caused them to be in a state of panic. Ever since marrying you, your beloved husband has been quite protective, to the point he was close to being overbearing. At first, you thought it was just because he cared for you. There were times it seemed sweet. However, whenever it started to rain heavily or there was a chance a storm would come, he always had an odd look on his face. You haven't even been to the beach nor got close to it ever since. What was even more infuriating was his silence or the half-hearted reasons that never made any sense.

What does he mean by protecting me? Surely what happened last time was merely an effect of my own negligence… Mother nature is a daunting force to battle with human hands. But what occurred then won't repeat again, especially with all the planning made to prevent it.

So what is he so scared of?

That night while lying in bed next to your unconscious husband, the mere companion you had was the candlelight flickering with every howl of the wind that tried to penetrate through the barriers, rattling the wooden planks. The sound of heavy raindrops pattering on the brick roof was neither relaxing nor annoying. You couldn’t sleep. Getting out of bed slowly, you glanced at your husband a few times to see if he would stir awake, to which he didn’t. Nights of trying to leave bed to either grab a cup of water or just sit in the sitting room that ended up only him grabbing your arm to stop you flashed before your eyes the second your toes touched the cold floor. Exhaustion from running around and barricading the house has chained him to a night of deep sleep.

“When is this damn storm going to go away?” you mumbled to yourself, hugging your torso as you walked up to the window where a gap is visible. Peeking through the space, you sighed at how the outdoors resembled a dark void you’ve seen countless times in your dreams. If it weren’t a stormy night, the endless void would seem straight out of a nightmare. “He can’t keep me cooped up here forever…”

A deep exhale escaped your lips as you sauntered to the kitchen to drink a cup of water. Perhaps you could blame it on the darkness of the house or the lack of sleep, but you were quite sure you heard the back door creak open. A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck all stood. It was a miracle you didn’t drop your cup and alert your husband to a conscious state.

“What the…”

The door was definitely open, and the wooden planks and other things your husband used to block it lay on the side. Since when did it become like this? You don’t recall hearing anything other than the loud thunder that follows after lightning splits through the sky. Swallowing your fright, you were just about to close the door again when suddenly, the rain stopped. You blinked twice at the strange phenomenon, fear doubling at the unexplainable until you heard it—someone humming.

Anyone out in this weather would be crazy, especially at night. Whether it was carried off by the wind or the person was just close by, the tune being hummed was enchanting and yet, deceptively alluring. Curiosity fuelled your steps as you made your way out, promising to just take a peek if it was someone and not something. But every step you took led you further closer to the beach where the waves were serene. Even the moon was out, its faint light illuminating the murky waters. The whole scenery was as if it came out of a painting that almost appeared like there wasn't any downpour earlier. But what had you continuing down your path until the ocean licked the soles of your feet was that ethereal humming that you couldn't help but feel like you’d heard before yet unable to pinpoint where.

Saltwater caressed up to your breasts the moment you snapped out of the entrancing song. Mind bewildered on why you let yourself get enraptured until something grabbed your arm, causing you to almost let out a shriek when your gaze landed on two onyx opals that belonged to a blond man, staring at you in great interest. Unable to see his whole face for the other half was submerged in water. He was handsome and pretty at the same time—a beautiful mysterious being that you had the chance to encounter. His whole aura was captivating. And yet, something felt wrong.

Heart pounding, you were unsure of what to do. What would anyone do when some stranger is now swimming next to you in the middle of the night? Lips about to move and question him on why he was here and all which ended up on the back of your tongue at the feeling of something brushing against your legs—a fishtail belonging to the man. Crimson was the color of its scales, giving off an illusion of him bleeding in the water. A sign of danger. The alarm bells started ringing in your head, your body froze at what that meant.

Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t move a single muscle. Frankly, you didn’t know what else to do but trudge back to shore if the merman allowed you to leave. Horror stories of sailors drowning and women being lured into the waters by such creatures to feast on ran through your mind while standing there. The icy breeze that brushed past you snapped you out of your dread, legs starting to turn back. But the merman had other ideas, clinging to your arm in earnest. Your cry for help turned into a gasp when his wet hands reached up to grab your face, those irises resembling the endless void of the night. His sharp nails slightly dug into your cheeks, but not enough to harm your flesh.

“Pretty pearl, do you remember me?”

“W-what…” There was no way this creature was speaking! His mouth never budged but you definitely heard his voice in your head. Was this the power of a merman? And is he the one humming earlier that lured you here? Foolish, you were absolutely foolish to fall for such tricks. You should have stayed at home as your husband told you. Teeth chattering, you shook your head. “L-let me go… Please, I need to—”

“It’s me, Manjiro. You remember me right, my pretty pearl?”

“M-Manjiro?” you echoed his name which caused the merman to show his full face where a smile was stretching his lips. “I’m sorry, b-but I don’t recall knowing you—”

His lips were on yours instantaneously, keeping you locked there while you struggled to free yourself. Tears started to form in your eyes, scared to death at what may happen next. To drown and eat you would be quite easy for such a powerful being. Your hands continued to push him back, albeit pathetically before they fell limp to your side.

Images of you and this merman flowed through your mind during the duration of the kiss, his tongue swiping and tasting your lower lip, begging to be let in. Memories of you prior to that storm hitting the village a year ago flooded your mind like honey, slowly unlocking more that led to you recognizing the merman to be the one who saved you when you fell off a crumbling cliff on your way back home to grab your things and evacuate. Those nightmares of drowning all made sense now for it has happened before and he—Manjiro—saved you the moment your body fell into the water, breathing oxygen back into your lungs. The very merman who caressed you in places you’ve never dared to touch in that tiny cave in curiosity. Those few moments spent on an undiscovered island a few miles from here were rare and interesting that it didn’t make sense how you’d easily forgotten about it. But such a meeting had to end when you both were confronted by another merman as he was returning you back to shore. Torn from each other so early that ended up you fleeing from such danger and almost drowning in the process as he fended off his own kind from touching a strand of your hair.

You couldn’t quite believe your savior and the merman you were enchanted with was out here, wanting to see you again after all these months. The one you fell in love with during that first meeting. And to meet here again, it was fate all along.

The tears of terror that collected on the rim of your eyes rolled down out of happiness instead. Arms wrapping themselves around the merman, holding onto him tightly. A smile on your face as you sobbed while he continued to kiss you. “Manjiro? Yes, it is you! Oh, how could I ever forget you?” Apologies poured out of your mouth like a gentle drizzle that had the merman humming out of glee. Finally, you two were reunited and Manjiro could never be happier. His hands lowered to hold you by your hips, intent to mark you again with his nails.

Unfortunately, just as he was celebrating having your memories return, Manjiro was instantly troubled at the fact you were now mated to someone other than him. Your husband wasn’t a stupid one and nothing could be more convenient for the merman to have him out of the picture. Months of waiting for you to go back to the beach and see you left Manjiro frustrated. There was no way you could easily forget him. So, who was taking up your attention that you wouldn’t try and see him again?

Of course, your bastard of a human lover.

Ill ideas that spelled death and evil tainted his thoughts every time he came to land, draining much of his magic to walk on two legs for minutes just to check up on you and see that bastard breathing in your proximity. He was quite sure that the bastard did something for you to forget him just like that. Dedication to see you was his only driving force so to see you next to a disgusting human made him want to tear his head off. This often led to him going back to the ocean with his blood boiling.

A merman would never be accepted into human society, that he knew. Those who did ended up dead trying. Manjiro refuses to die and be separated from you—his precious pearl in a vast ocean of nothing or anything meaningful to offer. However, he won’t easily back down again—he can’t turn back now just because your stupid human lover was wary of him. Manjiro swore he won’t make the same mistake again of getting caught by your husband, especially since said human has seen his true form upon escaping his suspicious glare.

To kill the vile human may be his ultimate goal, but to become close to being human shall solve his other problems.

Yes, he has to finish what he had started.

“Where are you going?” your husband’s inquiry was almost missed by you, excited to meet up with your non-human lover. If there were days you wished you didn’t marry so early, they merely multiplied now. Yet, you weren’t cruel to crush your husband’s heart. You did enjoy his company, through the ups and downs. He can’t compete with Manjiro’s enthralling aura, though. There was also the chance he might go and kill Manjiro if you did reveal your secret affair that has been going on for a month now since meeting the merman again. Just keeping the marks Manjiro has given you whenever you two meet was already a difficult thing to keep, what more about the true nature of your lover? Secrecy can sometimes be a far better choice than honesty. “It’s going to be late in a few hours.”

“I’m… just going to be quick, dear. I’ll be back quickly,” you reasoned, feet itching to leave the house. The look on your husband's face was doubtful but in the end, he dismissed you with a wave.

“Just be back before it gets dark, alright? Perhaps you didn't hear the news but there's been another murder in the area. Whoever the sick person is for killing people, I hope they get caught soon or we’ll have to move.”

Head too high up in the clouds to listen to the rest of his sentence, you left home with a giddy disposition. Manjiro was the only thing that revolved around your head and being able to kiss and touch him again. These past few days have been uneventful. If it weren't for your lover’s constant presence who also served as a sweet escape from mundane life, you would have died of boredom under the same roof as your husband.

“My pretty pearl, do you want me?”

Gasping against his shoulder, you fought back a moan. Futile and pointless it was for Manjiro intends to hear you sing beautifully as you bounced on his weirdly shaped cock. The rushing of the stream drowned out your whines and the lewd noise of your wet pussy folds meeting the base of his length that oddly hits and rubs the right places inside your cunt. Such a cock definitely does not belong to a human being. The first time taking it was a struggle for you swore you almost came that second the tip pushed past your cervix. Manjiro would always make it a habit to return you to your husband in an almost delirious state, one where all you could think of is his cock. From the very second you leave the stream with his thick cum trailing down your damp thighs to when you sleep at night, fantasizing of having the merman’s offspring.

Today was no different. Manjiro’s tail was slightly thrashing once you sped up, angling your hips and then resuming to bouncing on his throbbing cock that was leaking pre-cum—if you could call it that. Countless times has he stuffed you full of his thick warm fertile semen that came after he spurted two or three eggs into your womb. His whispers of you becoming a great mother never failed to heighten the experience of having sex with him in the great outdoors. A factor of this being an illicit affair could also be thrown into the mix and the idea of your husband being unaware has you scandalously creaming and squeezing Manjiro. The merman’s jaw slackened at how tight and hot your pussy is, revealing rows of sharp teeth that sunk into your nape, just wishing to mark you forever right then and there.

But Manjiro has to be patient. He has to be cunning and decisive. Your husband wasn’t the only person he has to eliminate to tip things in his favor. Killing your friend in this village last year was just the first step and consuming more human flesh was only the beginning of fulfilling his dream to stay by your side. If he had to kill more of his own kind to protect you, so be it. Manjiro isn’t scared to feed on human and merman flesh to obtain his goal. It wouldn’t be long. He has killed enough people to be able to turn his fish tail into human legs without the consequences of tiring easily or feeling like he was walking on a bed of sea urchins.

“Ah! M-Manji… N-need more. Want to feel you… burn. Want to hear you!” you sobbed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him dry. Manjiro knew if you came one more time, your husband would catch a whiff of your infidelity. But really, could this even be classified as one when it was he whom you truly love and not your sack shit of a husband? “M-more! Please! Wanna… have your babies.”

Ah, Manjiro truly loves you.

There was no one else on this earth that could please him so easily as you do. And that alone was enough for him to do everything in his power for you to stay by his side, even if you want to be free of his spell or grow tired of him. Manjiro will never let you go.

Gently pushing you to lay down on one of the smoother rocks, the merman crawled his way up to you. Not even prompted, you spread your legs to accommodate him. Your raw cunt was still oozing with his semen was perfectly in view. Manjiro grunted as he eased himself into your pussy once more, intent on breeding you and fertilizing those eggs. Because what was more laughable than for your husband to realize you were pregnant and carrying a merman’s brood? Delighted at the image of you round and practically ready to give birth, Manjiro leaned down to kiss you. His blood was singing songs in praise to you, eagerly rushing down to his erect and painful cock that was about to insert more eggs into you.

“M-Manjiro!” you practically screamed as your climax crashed down on you, back arching and nails drawing up half-moons and what resembled shooting stars across his back. Your legs quivered around his torso, satisfied as your merman chased after his own release once he safely inserted the eggs. You could barely see your husband glaring down at you through your hazed vision due to the rush of euphoria brought by Manjiro. Too far gone at the amount of ecstasy that you barely flinched at your husband yelling. His demands to know what was going on entered one ear and out the other.

Your husband was far too kind sometimes. During the duration of your peaceful marriage with him, he was better than those who hurt their partners. This was evident in how he was concerned about you, enough to follow you here. Yet, somehow, you didn’t feel any remorse in loving someone else behind his back nor felt dread when Manjiro got behind him, his legs smooth and muscled. Everything about the merman was as deadly as the sharp nails that sliced your husband’s throat, causing him to bleed and fall. The stream carried off his lifeline to the shores where it would attract more merfolk to the island, enticing them. But screw them for Manjiro would eliminate anything that gets in his way.

The death of your husband did not cause an uproar much to your surprise. Manjiro was already quite known in the village by the time you returned home, a widow but at the same time, a woman who was about to spend the rest of her life with the man she truly loved.

Correction, merman.

The day you got your first morning sickness was the very same day everyone in the village recognized Manjiro as your one and only husband. Your first husband—wait, did you even have another husband other than Manjiro? All you ever remembered is Manjiro. There was no way a human could love you as much as he could.

Manjiro, Manjiro, Manjiro—everything has gone smoothly according to his plan, all for his pretty human. Perhaps you were a deadlier obsession that the merman himself.

🎐taglist: @ranilingus @cryptred @wakaslut @marism @wakasa-wifey @zuuki @stffychn @keijisprettygirl @bunnyjiros @tobidabio @leavemealonebutinpink @eroscastle @kamisoria @httphaitani @chloee0x0 @sanzucide @tokyometronetwork @riszu

#pat.✍️fics #tokyo revengers smut #tr smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #tokyo revengers x you smut #mikey x y/n #mikey smut #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro smut #manjiro sano smut #sano manjiro smut #tw.breeding #tw.blood #tw.monsterfucking #tw.manipulation #tw.murder #tw.unprotected sex #tw.dubcon #tw.dark content #tw.cheating #tw.oviposition

[katapotato55]

How to write a good metaphor

yall seemed to like my post on "how to write good horror" so i figured i should make another one of these.

1- do. not. explain. the. metaphor.

don't.

"oh but how will the audience know my deep and meaningful message- "

SOME PEOPLE WONT GET IT. if you explain what you mean then suddenly the metaphor won't be deep anymore. it becomes a generic forced message.

i know you are tempted to make a character infodump about everything, fucking don't.

followup on this:

2- a good metaphor should potentially have multiple interpretations.

"but i don't want people to get the wrong impression of the story!"

then you either need to make damn sure its an elegantly written metaphor, or none at all. the death of the author is the idea that everyone has their own vision of a story they read, rearguards of authors intent. you need to come to terms with this or else you won't improve your writing skills.

you need to trust that your audience is intelligent enough to understand the metaphor on their own without bashing them over the head with it. sometimes people misunderstand meaning, it is a fact of life.

The game little inferno was thought of as a metaphor about pollution, in which later the creators went out to say it was actually about capitalism and wasting your life with things like exploitative mobile games. you just need make it SUBTLE and hope for the best.

3- The story/gameplay/etc should inform the metaphor(and sometimes reference real life examples)

To mention little inferno again, the "you must wait x amount of time for in-game item to be given to you" is a mirror of mobile games in the real world that use timers to leach money from you.

another example: analogue horror.

broken old technology is scary on its own, but many good analogue horror artists tend to use this to the advantage.

analogue horror can be used as a metaphor for dying trends and technology, like how in the 30's through 70's we used asbestos in the walls. Analogue horror makes a great parralel to this idea (see Blue_channel by gooseworx for a good example.) . the audience questions WHY this is on an old CRT tv and not just a smartphone, perhaps to imply this was an event that happened years ago.

undertale is another example, where most RPG's encourage you to fight and to level up, undertale uses this as a simple metaphor about obsessive control and being cruel to get an arbitrary achievement (i recommend the escapist's video on "why i didn't review undertale" on youtube for way better examples)

tldr: a metaphor is stronger if you lightly reference real life occurances and implement your metaphor in the medium presented.

4- the curtains are blue because they are blue.

not everyone is going to understand your metaphor

and not everyone is going to notice every single little metaphor you add to your story.

remember those teachers that would constantly stretch to imply something in a story is a metaphor and that the curtains are blue because of some deep metaphor for death and sadness and shit?

those teachers are full of it. ignore them.

metaphors are allowed to be simple. not every metaphor needs to be a hyper deep depth defying world changing thing. I could even argue a bunch of small metaphors connected to each other can be better than one big metaphor depending on your story.

relax. don't think too much about it because your average audience member won't.

5- study movies, tv, books, games, etc and understand why their metaphors work.

don't fall into that "the curtains are blue because of a deep message" English teacher mindset mind you.

"but how do i tell what is and isn't a metaphor?" you may ask

simple. trust your gut. you won't understand everything you come across but the human brain has a way of telling what is and isn't a metaphor in stories.

(spoiler about bugsnax)

I could argue Bugsnax is a metaphor about drug abuse and addiction. The characters have personality traits commonly associated with people vulnerable to drug addiction. An athlete, a hippy, a married couple going through a rough spot in their marriage with the threat of divorce, a mentally ill person with trauma and paranoia, etc.

It isn't obvious, many people may disagree with me, but you can't deny that there are signs i may be right.

(end of spoiler) the point i am trying to make: don't stretch to find a metaphor when you don't see one. if you are curious google other people's theories and make your own opinion. metaphors are hard and you will learn over time. and finally 6- do not ever do "it was all just a dream" or "the character is secretly in a coma" etc this applies to writing in general but it is still related to metaphors. the only time i have seen this done well is driver san francisco, but what it did right was A- make it so the players can guess ahead of time the mystery, such as the radio saying voices of your character in the hospital, or if you zoomed out you could hear a heart monitor. and B- it didn't completely un-do the entire story. that is my core issue with this trope. it either wastes your time un-doing the entire story readers worked hard to finish, or it is just nonsensical and terrible. "dora the explorer is actually in purgatory!" "spongebob is a metaphor for the 7 deadly sins!" "ash is in a coma and that is why he never ages! " ooooor it is a cartoon and you are forcing meaning that doesn't exist in something that doesn't even imply it. the world being a bit weird is not enough to be a metaphor for anything. If you want to make a good metaphor: do more effort than just slapping a lazy "it was all a coma" thing at the end. Like horror, stuff like this needs to be built up properly. also consider authors intent. I understand death of the author and all of that, but do you really think a retired marine biologist made spongebob to be a complex metaphor about sinners in hell ? (rip Stephen Hillenburg btw. we didn't deserve him.) thank you for reading, hope this helps. and please, learn to understand the tropes of metaphors before you attempt to make the story of a generation. edit- adding a couple more things i forgot 7- "the darkness is going to destroy the land or whatever!" i see this used all the time. spooky wookey dark shadowy bits going to destroy a land and is the hero's generic bad thing to fight. stop it. it is not a deep and complex metaphor about depression or whatever the hell you are on about. its lazy and stupid. 8- a story should stand up on its own regardless if audience members understand the metaphor or not I don't like Gris. it is a very pretty game with lovely visuals But also the entire story is just the main character moping about artistically and shit and go on about how artistically sad and dramatic this all is. if i don't understand the story without understanding the metaphor, then your story and your metaphor sucks. an example of a metaphor done well: spiritfairer without the metaphor, it is a simple game about running a traveling boat. even if you didn't care too much about the deeper meaning it is a cute story and the gameplay is fun (spoiler) if you look deeper, it can also be taken as a metaphor about greif and learning to accept your loved ones will one day die. things like the boat being filled with empty houses you can't remove is a good example of this. (end of spoiler) your story needs to stand up on its own to be good. don't use a metaphor as a crutch.

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #classic horror #horror #analogue horror #bugsnax #little inferno #zero punctuation #creative writing #fanfiction #fanfic #film #comics #videogames #movies #bad writing #bad writing advice #metaphors #metaphor

[gilly-moon]

PERCY JACKSON TV SHOW REVIEW

(SPOILER ALERT! I Did Not Like It)

It has been 16 long years since I first picked up The Lightning Thief, and once again...I am faced with an adaption of one of my favorite books that is so painfully disappointing. And now that the tv show is completely out, it's time to purge the collection of thoughts I compiled on it:

Starting on one of the (few) positives, the cast was incredible. I know for a FACT that they are all wonderfully talented individuals, and I aim all of my gripes with their acting at the directors and writers.

So much telling. So little showing. Stop explaining the plot and the mythology to me. SHOW it to me. Explain later only when necessary.

And yet, some things weren't explained at all! I know, as someone who read the books, what blue food means to Sally and Percy. But the show never explains its significance. To the unknowing watcher, it's just a weird quirk, not a small rebellion between a woman and her kid against the life they're stuck in. It baffles me what the writers chose to over explain versus under explain. There's no clear reason for either behavior, and it permeates the writing in a bad way.

There's also a lot of the kids just being dragged from point A to point B by an outside force, rather than their own actions. They never really felt alone or even in danger on their quest, because gods kept showing up to help them along. I did not like that.

These kids aren't allowed to be kids. I stg you could make them teens or young adults and the dialogue/their actions would be the same. That's not good.

Why do they always have all of the information!!!?? They immediately know it's Medusa. Echidna introduces herself and they immediately know who she is and that it's a Chimera in her bag. They immediately know what the Lotus casino is. Why? It makes the stakes feel so low, rather than the mad dash scramble in the books that happens a lot when characters have to remember the myths and how to beat a monster mid-fight. And it makes all these scenarios so boring!!!

Also so many of the fight/chase scenes were boring or anticlimactic. The only good ones I can think of were in the first two episodes, and then one with Ares. Someone actually slipped in some good choreo in those few fights, but completely forgot to add it in to....the rest of the show....

There's very little about the show that feels magical. CG is used, obviously, but at times it feels like they should've gone further with it, or used it even more, and they just....didn't. The visuals end up feeling clunky and not very cohesive, with zero whimsy. Hate to make this comparison, but the Harry Potter movies were VERY good at showing the lines between the magical world and the muggle world, and the tension that occurs when the two interact. There is....none of that in the PJO series. Zip. Zero. And the mythological CG that is there is more often than not static or boring.

Break for a positive! I actually really liked that Percy was learning mythology from Mythomagic. The show wasn't really consistent on that point - saying it was his mom instead most of the time - but that was such a fun and clever way to work in the card game and make it plot-relevant. As someone with ADHD, I can confirm I would also learn mythology WAY better if it was for my favorite game.

Ok back to the negatives - Wtf is up with the portrayal of the gods? For one, they're boring to look at. Nothing about their designs makes them feel 'godly' and while that's ok with some gods (Hermes for one, tho I have issues with his weird beige sweat suit look) why is Ares just some regular ass biker dude? Where are the flaming eyes?? And radical skin-leather bike?? He couldn't even have a CUSTOM bike with red bloody paint and boar heads and chain link handles or something???

And the gods are way too fucking nice. Sorry. I don't have an issue with Hermes being nice but. Ares having a heart-to-heart with Grover? When his presence is supposed to stir everyone up into a rage? And Hephaestus sees Annabeth refuse to give up on her friend and just goes 'awww, ok, you and Percy can go, and take my rival's shield back to him too cause I'm just so nice.' Sorry, no. I'm fine with gods being helpful - Hephaestus helps (reluctantly) in the later books. But it was at a price! A favor for a favor! Not a 'get out of jail free' card just because he was moved by normal ass human compassion!!

Hades gets his own bullet point because who the fuck was that. As a child of Hades, I'm offended that this sweet fruity guy just wanders up and goes 'hey, how's it going, wanna snack?' like, that is NOT my dad. My dad had skeleton soldiers filling his halls and a garden of jewels and a voice so loud it rattled the whole Underworld. Whoever that was in the show was a pathetic imitation.

The point of the first series is to work up to Percy throwing it in the gods' faces how awful and neglectful they've been of demigods and specifically their own children. Demanding that they do better. But if they're already showing compassion and 'humanity' in the context of the first book/first season of the tv show....Percy starts running out of ammo against the gods. There's no coherent story progression where Percy spends years seeing the worst of the gods and the best of them at very distinct, important times of his life and his story. It no longer feels like a massive change they have to make in the system, something that deserves a godly favor for Percy to demand of them. Luke no longer feels like his fury at the gods is wholly justified. The whole series begins to crumble because the gods already have a good reason for being how they are, rather than being thoroughly selfish assholes who only dote on demigods when they do something really cool. And the exceptions are presented at intelligent moments that prove to Percy when he most needs it that the gods can be better, they just need a forceful push to get there.

That being said, where was Percy getting the info that the other gods were feeling scared and abused by Zeus? I love the balls on this kid, but like...when did he make these assumptions and why? That whole scene felt really unearned.

Also Olympus was BORING. And EMPTY. And DARK. It looked like we were just back in the Underworld. Which. The Underworld was fucking boring too. Some neat visuals, sure, but put that in some high fantasy show. Not this one.

One last positive before my final point - there were some pretty good jokes scattered around. Not nearly enough, but I did really enjoy the Dionysus introduction and a handful of lines from Percy. Also releasing the animals in Vegas - Grover being like 'oh, you were worried about the humans' got me good.

The final word that kept spinning through my head after finishing episode 8 was: Pathetic. Luke's betrayal was pathetic. No deadly scorpion. No commitment to that period of time in the books we were convinced he really was evil. And Gabe just stumbling on the package with Medusa's head in it? PATHETIC. Percy outright asked his mom if she was being abused in the book, and she took fate into her own hands to statue-ify that bastard. But no. The show was through-and-through just a pathetic, watered-down version of an incredibly fun, emotional, brutal, exciting series of books. I know there was a lot of heart behind this production, but I did not feel it at all. But what else should I have expected from modern Disney?

#i could probably go on for years but #i am tired #and already went through this once with the movies so #now i merely wish to expel my thoughts and then let the memory of this show fade from my mind

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 28: Sacrifice

Yeah I’m basically just going to do the rest of these a day behind I think... If a miracle occurs and I can get some of these out on their proper days then yay! But uh... probably won’t happen. Yeah.

It probably doesn’t help that this one is stupid long 🙄

Read on ao3

Warnings: well. Um. Discussion of death. Thinking about death. And... temporary character death.

————————————————————

The sacrifice of one leads the way for the many.

A chill went down Sky’s spine as he read the inscription, and he stepped back to let the others read the words on the stone as well.

“Well, that’s not creepy,” Legend muttered, and Sky couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. The fact that the words were written on a pitch black stone in red letters didn’t help either, and Sky glanced around the room in unease.

The dungeon so far had been somewhat creepy, but not to this level. The room they were in now was large and dark, lit only by oddly purple torches along the walls that made the rock with the inscription shine strangely. Another similar dark stone stood on the other side of the room, but it was blocked off by bars, and there appeared to be no way through.

“What do you think it means?” Wind asked, standing on his toes to better read the inscription.

“Obviously a sacrifice of some kind is needed for us to continue,” Warriors said, and Time nodded slowly, rubbing his chin as he studied the stone.

“But what kind? I mean... my favorite spoon would kind of be a sacrifice, right?” Wild asked a little hesitantly, and Time shook his head.

“...I don’t think so,” he murmured.

The room went quiet as they all looked at the stone again, and Sky glanced across the room to the other identical one, squinting a little as he noticed something. He stepped over to the bars, and felt something cold land in his gut as he saw a faint outline of a handprint on the opposite stone.

“I think... the sacrifice has to be one of us,” he said in a quiet voice.

“No, no way,” Four said with a rapid shake of his head, stepping away from the inscription. “We’re not doing that.”

“I agree, that’s not an option,” Time said firmly.

“It must mean something else,” Twilight said, glancing around. “Look around for any switches or something, there’s got to be another way out of here.”

The other Links spread through the room, mostly around the perimeter, but Sky stayed by the bars, an odd feeling keeping him there. He studied the metal, then the ground, and saw a slightly darker ring of stone on the floor. It was faintly outlined in red, but nothing happened when Legend and Hyrule walked over it on their way across the room.

That must be where the sacrifice goes...

The heroes searched the room for a long time, checking every nook and cranny, trying various items to get past the bars blocking off the other part of the room. But nothing was found, and nobody’s items were able to get through. They even started trying combinations of things, but Time finally put a stop to it, saying it was getting late.

None of them spoke of the inscription as they made camp for the night, and nobody mentioned how the door they’d come in through was barred off as well.

Nobody talked about how they were trapped.

Sky couldn’t help thinking of it though, and the thought he’d had in the back of his head the entire time they’d been combing the room was slinking to the forefront of his mind again.

And as he got into his bedroll along with the others, he found sleep hard to come by.

They’d been in this dungeon for a few days now, and hadn’t been the best stocked when they’d gone inside. Nobody wanted to admit it, but they were low on water, starting to get low on food, and it would only get worse since they were trapped in this room.

They were running out of time, and there was only one way out.

Sky felt the cold feeling in his chest come back, and he rolled over, staring over at the bars that blocked off the other part of the room.

It must have been extremely late now, and the others were all asleep, worn out from the various trials of the dungeon. Nobody else was awake— they hadn’t set a watch since there was no way for anything to get in here— and Sky slowly sat up, still staring at the bars as the words on the stone ran through his head yet again.

The sacrifice of one leads the way for the many.

It was the only way through.

Sky breathed out, and looked back at the others, listening to their soft breathing. Wind was spread out like a starfish, half on top of both Warriors and Twilight somehow. Wild was curled up by the rancher, and his feet were dangerously close to hitting Hyrule in the face, the traveler back-to-back with Legend. Four was near his head, and Time was a little further away from him, more by himself then the others, but still plenty close.

All of them here, with homes and loved ones to go back to. They had so much to lose, but Sky... he had so much to make up for. So much to repay.

And between watching one of them sacrifice themselves, or being forced to endure a slow death of starvation and dehydration, trapped in this room with freedom so close...

Neither of those were options.

Sky swallowed, then slipped out of his blankets, quietly putting on his boots. He stood, then after a moment’s hesitation, fastened his sailcloth around his neck, comforted by the weight of it.

The familiar smell wafted around him as he walked across the room, and he held tightly to the pendant as he stepped into the darker circle on the floor, his hands surprisingly still.

He’d faced death countless times before, and found himself oddly calm as he stared it in the face yet again.

“I am the one,” he whispered.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then a quiet rumble came from the floor, the bars in front of Sky slipping away before his eyes.

He breathed out, and stepped past them, the bars immediately sliding back into place behind him. Sky slowly stepped towards the stone on the other side of the room, the handprint more obvious now that he was on the other side of the bars.

He wondered if it would be painful.

“Sky?”

He startled and looked behind him, seeing Twilight sit up and rub his eyes. The rancher looked around in confusion at the sight of Sky’s empty bedroll, but then their eyes met, and Twilight’s went wide with horror as he realized all of a sudden what he was doing.

“Sky!”

His shout woke the others, and before Sky could blink, all of them were by the bars, staring or shouting at him.

“Sky, what are you doing?!” Wind cried, his eyes wide. “How did you...”

“Sky, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but come back,” Time said in a voice that was much less steady then usual. “This is not the way.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Warriors said carefully, hand outstretched towards him. “We’ll figure something else out, just... Sky, don’t.”

Sky couldn’t stand the heartbreak on their faces as they talked to him, and he turned back around, facing the stone again. The handprint had disappeared, but he knew it was waiting for him.

He stepped towards it, and the others’ voices grew more frantic.

“Sky don’t you dare!” Four shouted, banging his hands on the bars separating them. But Sky ignored him and the shouts of the others, and continued to walk alone across the room.

“No, Sky!”

“Sky! Stop please!”

“The sacrifice of one leads the way for the many,” Sky recited quietly, and their desperate shouts finally quieted at his voice. He turned back and gave them all a sad smile, and looked over all of them again, his companions, his friends.

His brothers.

“That’s what the inscription said. This... this is the only way through.”

“It can’t be, we’ll find another way Sky, please,” Twilight begged, but Sky didn’t move.

“We’re almost out of water, and there isn’t any other way out,” he said softly. “One of us has to do this.”

“Sky,” Legend choked out, but Sky took the last few steps towards the stone without looking back.

He inhaled, taking in one last breath of the sweet smell of his sailcloth, then squared his shoulders and pressed a hand to the pitch black stone.

“SKY!”

(...)

Sky crumpled the moment his hand touched the pedestal.

He didn’t cry out, didn’t let out so much as a gasp, and Twilight could only watch in horror as he dropped to the floor with a quiet thump.

The bars lifted mere moments later, all entrances and exits opened, and Twilight bolted forward, rushing with the other Links to Sky’s side.

“No no no Sky, come on,” Four choked out as they all dropped to his side, and Warriors shoved past them all, turning Sky onto his back and pressing a hand first to his wrist, then his throat.

Twilight’s heart was in his throat, and he could only stare at Sky’s blank eyes, open, but lacking any of their usual warmth. He was reminded horribly of that nightmare Lanayru had given him all that time ago, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away, just like then, no matter how much he wanted to.

Warriors might’ve done or said more, but Twilight could only stare, and he didn’t check back in until the captain finally pulled away from Sky.

Twilight looked at him with a desperate feeling in his chest, but Warriors only shook his head. The captain’s eyes had a dull look to them as he looked at them all, and he reached forward with a shaking hand to carefully brush Sky’s eyes closed.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Warriors whispered, closing his eyes. “He’s gone.”

Twilight felt like he’d been dropped into the frozen lake at Snowpeak.

“He... he can’t be,” Wind said, voice trembling. “He can’t, that’s not...”

Hyrule moved forward then as well, hands already lit, but the moment he touched Sky, the desperately hopeful look on his face slipped away.

“There’s nothing to heal,” he said in a small voice. “I can’t do anything.”

“But there has to be something!” Wind gasped, his eyes already watering. “Don’t... don’t we have any fairies? They’ve brought us back so many times, there must— there has to be—”

“Get up Sky,” Legend demanded, hand trembling as he gave Sky’s shoulder a hard shake. “You can’t do this to us, get up.”

Sky didn’t move.

Twilight stared as Legend shook Sky harder, his face desperate, and Warriors finally tugged the veteran away, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“He’s gone, Legend,” Warriors said in a voice so full of grief that Twilight almost didn’t recognize it. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Wind let out a sudden sob, and Twilight quickly pulled him into his arms, the sailor crumpling in his hold. Warriors looked away as Time placed a shaking hand on Sky’s cheek, and the others all looked down at him, shock and grief and too many emotions to name on their faces.

“He’s not dead, he’s not,” Legend choked out, looking wildly around at the others, as if hoping someone would agree with him. But nobody spoke, Four silently crying, Wild looking like his world was crashing around him, Hyrule merely staring much like Twilight was, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Why would he— why?” Wild choked out, and Hyrule leaned against him, looking equally overwhelmed. “How could he—”

“He did as the stone said,” Time finally whispered, his voice somehow equally heavy and weak. “He did it for us.”

Wind let out a muffled wail in Twilight’s arms, and Twilight closed his eyes, unable to take in the scene any more.

Sky was gone.

(...)

Somehow they made it to the boss room.

They couldn’t stay in the dungeon forever (Sky had been right, they were running so low on supplies but why like this, why—), and through the haze of grief that had fallen over Twilight, he was glad that Warriors had taken charge.

Time seemed like he was floundering, barely replying to anything anyone said to him, his face eerily blank, and Twilight himself couldn’t summon up the energy to try and figure out what to do next. Nobody else was in any state to do anything, and as soon as Warriors realized, he took over.

He quickly settled into captain-mode, all emotion rapidly shoved to the side in favor of getting them moving again. Twilight could see it on his face, the blank look in his eyes as he gently prodded them all to their feet.

He’d slipped behind a mask, and Twilight was too lost in his head to even be too worried about it.

Twilight carried Sky’s body as they continued through the dungeon, barely a word passing between anyone as they trooped onward. He tried not to think about exactly what it was he was holding, and when he glanced down, he could almost tell himself that Sky was merely sleeping, eyes closed, his bangs falling over his face.

They hadn’t even discussed leaving him in the room where he’d fallen. None of them were going to leave Sky alone down here, in an eerie dungeon thousands of years from his own time.

Twilight felt another wave of grief hit him, and he looked down at the skycloth they’d wrapped around him.

Oh Goddesses, what are we going to tell Sun?

A thick sniffle came from where Wind was walking, and Twilight looked over at him, the sailor stubbornly walking onward despite the tears pouring down his face. Four was next to him, clasping his hand, and Twilight was sure Wind wasn’t the only one crying.

But they kept walking. They needed to get out of here, and then...

Wild pulled his hood over his face nearby, and Legend continued on at the front, his shoulders faintly shaking.

...Then we can grieve.

After several rooms that Twilight barely even took in, they finally went through what had to be the boss door, large and ornate. Twilight was the last through, and he gently set Sky’s body by the wall out of the way.

Something clattered, and they all drew their swords.

A dragon made entirely out of bones stomped out from behind a pillar moments later, a screeching roar coming from its throat. It glared down at them all, purple eyes glowing, and the sight of it set something burning in Twilight’s gut.

He wasn’t the only one, the sight of an enemy seeming to light something up in all of them, and they all ran forward with enraged shouts.

The fight wasn’t long, all of them fighting with an intensity that didn’t surprise Twilight in the least. Legend was the fiercest of them all, attacking like a madman, and as the others knocked off the bones on the dragon’s feet, the veteran lunged forward with an enraged cry.

His sword slipped into the ribcage of the dragon, cutting into the purplish core that laid inside. It let out a roar louder then any it had before, and the others took from Legend’s cue, jabbing their swords at the ribcage and dodging the spiked tail and teeth.

Time finally smashed straight through the ribcage itself with an especially fierce jumping slash, and Legend darted in, the dragon screaming as its core burst from the countless attacks. It writhed around the room, letting out increasingly louder screams before collapsing suddenly into faintly purple dust.

Legend fell to a knee once it was gone, and Twilight saw his shoulders shaking as he wiped his face with his sleeve. Time put a hand on his shoulder, and said something that Twilight didn’t catch, but Legend leaned into the hold, his head bowed.

Nobody was injured enough to dip into their meager supplies, and so they didn’t linger, heading for the stairs that had appeared at the dragon’s death.

The boss was defeated and the dungeon clear, but the victory felt hollow as Twilight gently lifted Sky’s body again, and headed for the exit. None of them spoke as they climbed up the stairs that had appeared in the room, and the only sound was an occasional muffled sniffle.

Twilight felt even more hollow as they finally emerged from the stifling dungeon, blinking in the early-morning sunshine that met them. They’d been spilled out into a forest clearing, more of a garden almost, birds chirping happily as the sun filtered through the leaves.

Twilight wanted to scream at the beauty of it.

Wind abruptly sat down on the grass, his eyes red, but finally dry, and the rest of them either sat beside him, or spread out, poking around the clearing, still nobody speaking.

Twilight walked around as well, Sky still cold in his arms. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he couldn’t set him down, but he didn’t want to think about it too hard. He was afraid if he did, the grief would sink it’s jaws so tightly into his heart he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

He’d let that happen once. He wasn’t keen on doing it again.

Twilight stepped idly toward a small paved area, moss growing between the bricks and up a small pedestal. A bird chirped happily from a branch above his head as he leaned down to look at the stone, and Twilight realized suddenly there were words on it, half covered by moss. He shifted Sky around, and scrubbed the plants away, squinting at the inscription.

The sacrifice of one leads the way for the many.

But if made from pure love, then death will not tarry.

Twilight stared, the weight of Sky’s body in his arms heavier then ever as he felt his heart suddenly speed up. Death will not...

Sky opened his eyes.

Twilight cried out and nearly dropped him, saved only by Wild bolting over and grabbing his arm.

“Sky?!” he gasped, and the others immediately ran over at his shout, Twilight sinking to his knees as he stared at his brother.

Sky stared up at the leaves overhead as the others leaned over him, and Twilight felt himself begin to shake as he didn’t move.

Sky, please, please tell me I didn’t imagine that, please—

“Rancher...” Four began in a small voice when several minutes had gone by. “I don’t...”

Sky suddenly jerked, letting out a series of thick coughs that made no less then half of them shriek in surprise.

He blinked several times, looking like he was trying to get his bearings, but then nearly everyone crashed into him, hugging and crying and yelling at him for being the “worst idiot self-sacrificing Hero they’d ever met.”

“Don’t do that ever again!” Wind sobbed, hiccuping with relieved laughs as he hugged Sky.

“How are you alive?!” Wild gasped, his cheeks wet as he clutched Sky’s hand.

”Gods Sky, we thought—” Warriors began, but his voice broke and he clenched tighter at Sky’s shoulder, shaking his head as he turned away.

“Never do that again,” Time said in a heavy voice, his own eye shining, and Sky could only look around at them all as they stared at him and clutched at him.

“It... did it work?” Sky said finally, voice raspy, and Twilight nodded, feeling like his heart would give out from the events of the past several hours.

“It worked,” he replied in thick voice, and smiled shakily at Sky. “We all hate you for it, but it worked.”

Sky opened his mouth again, but was cut off by Legend giving him a punch to the shoulder, his hand shaking as he stared at him.

“You— you’re horrible Sky,” he choked out, then joined the others in hugging him, his face buried in Sky’s chest. Sky hugged them back, and Twilight clutched his hand in his, skin cool but no longer icy, a healthy beat pulsing through his wrist.

He heard someone sob, and Twilight clutched tighter at Sky’s hand as everyone hugged him, clutching his hands and shoulders and holding him close as they reassured themselves that he was alive alive alive.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu Sky #lu chain #all the links #linked universe fanfic #whumptober2023 #day 28 #sacrifice #writing from the floor #the rhyme is a liiiittle iffy but it was the best thing I settled with #I tried like five different things before I found a rhyme that actualky worked #and I don’t like the ending gahhhh #anyway #today’s is coming but #...probably not til tomorrow #I’ve been too much of a mess to catch up #sorry #whumptober

[from-izzy]

you: my favourite scene | tbz kim sunwoo

» ​PAIRING: tbz kim sunwoo x fem reader/original female character​ » TROPE/AU​: friends 2 lovers! non-idol au! (high) school au! » GENRE​: fluffy fluff, bit (?) of angst, ​sunwoo is super loving, understanding and patient, hurt and comfort » WORD COUNT: ​5562 » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~20 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): heavy mentions of food, disordered eating, brief mentions of abandonment, topics on mental illness (implied depression and anxiety)

this was my first story i ever uploaded on tumblr! this gained 88 notes (8 rbs, 80 likes) and that number is still so massive to me. i remember seeing my very first like notification and i was so surprised that it happened within around 12 hours of when i first uploaded it (pretty sure it was midnight tho so i couldn't be as chaotic as i would have really been)

but here it is again!

def better grammar and punctuation (i seriously dk how i let those mistakes passed when i first uploaded it). i did do some editing, replacing dialogue/thoughts to narrative sentences because i didn't want to necessarily post a story that i wasn't proud of (and also because i wanted to keep my stories similar to the original ones before so...yeah).

please remember that all your struggles are valid and i sincerely hope that the world around you is a place full of love, hope and kindness. never feel inferior with asking for help. i believe that asking for help is one of the bravest things ever.

When your roommate texted Sunwoo as a final choice, the boy didn’t hesitate to rush over despite it being extremely early in the morning. He didn’t spare his friends a response when he logged out of the game and ended the call, sprinting over in his pyjamas and a random jacket from his hanger. He probably woke his sister up but he didn't care about the consequences at the moment.

About a year ago at the classroom, Sunwoo walked back to get his wallet, cursing to himself as he had to line up once more at the back of the line and his stomach was not having it after skipping dinner the night before. He caught your friends sighing and was incredibly frustrated at you for not taking care of your health. Sunwoo knew the situation was serious and was about to leave, holding in his anger until after school, not wanting to disturb Choi Jiyeon, his seatmate and new friend. His worries took over when her cries were louder and he approached the scene.

They were pretty much strangers at this point. School had only started for a month and they only got to know each other then. Sunwoo didn't know what took over him to approach the same group back then.

Jiyeon didn’t expect the sudden appearance of the boy, her eyes crying as she kept on denying her friend’s request to go eat something. Jiyeon loves her friends but unfortunately, they are not too understanding of her situation. So when she craned her head up to silently plead at Sunwoo through her tearful eyes, he made up an excuse as they both left the classroom. That day Jiyeon told him about her struggles and Sunwoo remembered promising to himself that he would research and stay by her side; as a seatmate.

But now the following year, Jiyeon's roommate opened the door for Sunwoo, smiling weakly as she gave an acknowledgment nod to the guest. He knocks on the familiar bedroom door before introducing himself and entering the room.

"Heard from a little birdie that you haven't eaten in a while." This situation isn't new for either of them; heck Sunwoo has seen her tearful eyes, full of tears so many times, yet it still breaks his heart to pieces whenever he gets the news from her close friends or roommates that she hasn't been eating for the past couple of days.

The first time it happened again after the day in the classroom, Sunwoo panicked and had a tunnel view to just get food in her stomach, believing that was the most important thing. He didn’t expect the next episode to occur so early and he has not researched the topic very well at that point. But as time went on, Sunwoo learnt certain signals from her, what she's comfortable with as well as to just provide her comfort in the hard time. 

When Sunwoo opens the door to the bedroom, he sees the fully covered figure under the blanket, gulping his sadness down. It’s the scene that he hates the most: You just lying down, lifelessly in bed, crying and fighting alone. You would never call him no matter how much he’s offered and it made him worry more as time passed. "Jiyeon…it's Sunwoo."

Sunwoo could see that she heard him, shuffling slightly as a reaction, "Sunwoo?" she whispered too gently for him to hear. Unlike his previous visits where she would make the effort to make eye contact with him, Jiyeon kept herself hidden as the past month, she has established her own feelings towards her friend.

Sunwoo nods even though Jiyeon can't see it. The bed sank a bit as he sat on its edge, "Is there anything that you were maybe wanting for the past few days?"

"I don't know…"

Sunwoo's heart clenches at how dry and lifeless her voice is. Before he knew it himself, Sunwoo slowly pulled down the blanket much to Jiyeon's surprise and she sat up to try and get the big fabric over again when Sunwoo pulled her weak body into a hug instead.

"You're so cold…" Sunwoo held onto Jiyeon tighter than ever, arms around her shoulders, resting his face on the crook of her neck.

Jiyeon's breath hitches at his warm breath against such an intimate place, "S-Sunwoo…" that only led him to tighten his grip on her upper body even more.

"Please let me get something for you…" He couldn’t bear seeing her suffering alone like this.

Jiyeon thought long and hard about something that she is able to put into her mouth easily, also thinking about her ability to swallow the food without feeling guilt, "I…guess I want some meat mixed with vegetables…like the ones inside of dumplings…but I don't want the dumpling skins…"

Sunwoo's face visibly lit up at the mention of the food she wanted, nodding excitedly at the request. He pulls away, smiling at Jiyeon and repeats her order once again, "Ok! I'll be back! Just stay here and I'll be rig---"

"No wait, don't go!" Before Sunwoo could fully let go of her hand that he had excitedly shaken earlier on, Jiyeon clasps her tiny hands on one of his hands, pulling him back down to the bed, "I don't want to be alone…"

"Hey, you're going to be fine." Sunwoo's expression softens again when Jiyeon looks up at him desperately and fearfully. With a soft act of comfort, he uses his other free warm hand to caress her cold cheek, "If you want me to stay, I can order delivery. Is that a better plan?"

Jiyeon nods, tears flooding her eyes at the way Sunwoo was so delicate about the whole situation. She slowly crawls over to the edge of the bed with the blanket rolled up on her hands, going closer next to Sunwoo.

The boy just observes her movements until she sits next to him, taking note of her shivering figure and pale face. Carefully taking the material from her hands, Sunwoo stands up and wraps the fabric around her shoulders, tucking the edges in to stop warmth from escaping.

To Sunwoo, Jiyeon looked like an extra adorable burrito and he couldn't help but blush profusely at the endearing sight. He bends down from his standing position, tucking stray hairs behind her ears, "Do you want me to make the call here or outside?"

"Here…" one of her hands escaped from the warm environment, "could you…hold my hand?"

"Of course, I will."

Sunwoo kept his word, giving reassuring squeezes and thumb brushes on her hand during the whole call. He tried his best to keep the food names short and concise, not wanting Jiyeon to be stressed by the whole situation. When the phone hung up, Sunwoo sat down comfortably on the floor in front of her, still holding her hand, "It'll be here soon."

A comfortable silence envelops them both as they stare into each other's eyes attentively. If she didn't read him wrong, Jiyeon could see sparks of life and happiness in him, as well as comfort and warmth in his eyes. The sight made her heart beat faster though she also worried that her crush on Sunwoo made her delusional about something that wasn't there in the first place.

When Jiyeon downcasted her gaze, she missed the way Sunwoo slightly frowned as he pouted a little, "I'm sorry…" She couldn’t finish her sentence verbally but what she wanted to really say was: sorry for wasting your time and money on me when you could be using it for other things. Why couldn’t she say it? It’s not as if Sunwoo would look down on her in any way. He would’ve done so ages ago if that was the case.

But no.

Sunwoo stayed by her with those gorgeous, patient gaze and that smooth, comforting voice. That did scare her because she fell in love with Sunwoo even more and giving her heart to someone else, is a big gamble. With that, she stayed quiet because she had a feeling that if she ever said anything, he would smile awkwardly, tap her shoulder timidly and walk away without another doubt.

"For what?" Sunwoo didn't get an answer when he realised that Jiyeon started crying, her mind filling up with horrible thoughts and ideas, "Jiyeon." He jumps up from his cross-legged position, crashing his body to hers once again, "I have no idea what you're apologising for but you haven't done anything wrong, so don't apologise."

"Sunwoo…I--" She struggled heavily to form any sentence in her head, let alone in real life. Sunwoo hushed her, cradling her face between his palms, "I just can't…"

"Can't what?" Sunwoo whispers back. Even if his tone was stable, his heart started beating fast at the possibilities behind her words. The words would have ranged from the smallest to the biggest of things and Sunwoo didn’t even want to begin to think of the possibilities. While Jiyeon only shakes her head, not answering his question explicitly, he just nods, opting to give her physical comfort like before, "I'm just going to get the food alright? It should be outside the door."

Jiyeon couldn't answer, feeling numb and tired as the tears just kept flowing down. Sunwoo himself was on the verge of tears. He recalls the day when he was late to the first day of last year when the new student became his seatmate for the school year. Sunwoo knew the moment she flashed her smile that his heart would be in deep trouble yet, he still introduced himself with an entrancing smile anyway.

"I'm not going to leave you alone." The said girl widened her eyes when she heard the slight voice crack in his sentence, seeing how tears pooled in his eyes, "I promise you that I won't. I'll be right back."

"Please come back soon." With shaky hands, Jiyeon couldn't help but cradle Sunwoo's cheek, brushing his skin with her thumb delicately.

"Close your eyes and count to forty-five. I'll be back in front of you when you open your eyes." With a nod and her voice starting, Sunwoo dashes for the door before relocating to the kitchen, washing his hands and peeling off the dumpling skins, putting them aside for him to eat later on. Putting the filling back into the container, he sits down on the floor again whilst catching his breath and when Jiyeon opens her eyes, he's surely there with a comforting smile.

Jiyeon wrapped her arms around her body tighter when Sunwoo smiled warmly at her, "You're actually back…" A lone tear fell off as she worried herself over and over again, "You came back…" 

But the thing is, Sunwoo has always come back over and over and over again.

Sunwoo frowns at the comment, feeling his heart clench at the way you were most definitely worn out from your fight. Unlike previous days when she would smile back and thank him, it seemed like there was something definitely on her mind today, "You know I'll always come back for you right?"

"Yeah…" though it felt unsure. Sunwoo wasn't sure what made her so hesitant but he couldn't help the hurt to flash against his eyes as he nodded at her words dejectedly, "I'm going to give the container to you, alright? As always, I'll sit behind you, back to back and just wait for you, okay?"

Her gut swirls with anxiety and suddenly the white, somewhat translucent takeaway container didn’t seem scary to her anymore. But the boy that held onto it while thoughtfully reciting the plan that they have always adhered to? That made her look away.

"Sunwoo, I think you should go this time…" The fear took over her and she blurted the sentence before she even knew it. All the thoughts that freely swarmed in her head suddenly collided against each other and Jiyeon bought her blanket to cover the lower part of her face.

"W-What?" With no clear answer from the girl, Sunwoo's frown deepens and he gulps in nervousness at her words, "How about if I wait outside? Hm? Is that a better plan?"

"O-Outside…?" She recalls a random day after school when they were both playing basketball together.

"Yah Kim Sunwoo!" Jiyeon fell into a fit of giggles when Sunwoo engulfed her back to his chest with his arms around her waist tight, swaying her around to keep her away from the ball, "This is foul play!"

"Whatever you say!" Sunwoo kept her in his hands for a little more, smiling brightly as the basketball bounced further away from them. When their laughs die down (though their smiles haven't), he turns Jiyeon around to face him. He grins, the corner of his lips stretching widely to the sides.

Jiyeon couldn't do the same however, the comments from her friends that she's falling in love with Sunwoo filled her head. She didn’t really know why she kept on brushing it off. Jiyeon always believed that love would come and she would always tell herself to accept the feeling. But when reality strikes, it feels like all the pep talks and preparation vanished without a trace. Nervously with wide eyes, she looked up at the mischievous boy who only looked at her with a fond smile, "Sunwoo." she whispered to him.

"Hm?" For the first time in a while, he lets one of his arms around your waist go, only for it to fix your hair up a little bit, waiting for your response. Sunwoo lets himself bask in the feeling of being close to Jiyeon, loving how physically close they could be without feeling awkward; or at least that’s how it felt to him. Undeniably, Sunwoo knows he has fallen in love with the teenage girl and though the feeling scared him, he allows himself to let go of his fears at least just this once.

"If, just if, one day I told you that I can't hang around you anymore,” Jiyeon finally looks up at his slowly concerned gaze, “what would you do?"

"What would I do?" Sunwoo crashes his eyebrows together in confusion, "Well, I mean I don't need to think about this because it'll never happen though! I'm too awesome for that!" He finishes with his widest, signature grin. 

Jiyeon laughs at the very Sunwoo-like response before continuing, "Just an ‘if’…you never know what could happen in the future."

"Well," Sunwoo didn't even want to think about it; a day where you would push him away indefinitely. He’s definitely thought about it, no doubt. Most of the situation was about how he would confess and it would ruin this friendship that he could never dream of letting go, "it'll depend on the situation but I would wait for you. If it's just during that certain time when you need immediate space, then I would wait outside for you or something. But if it's long term," His hand that was playing with your hair stops, cupping your cheek gently as he looks longingly into your eyes. 

Sunwoo knew at that point that he was indeed very much in love with Choi Jiyeon. Days of questioning have finally brought him this realisation and he smiled radiantly with the thought in his head. Jiyeon gives a confused frown but slowly starts to relax it to a smile when Sunwoo’s thumb caresses your blushed cheek softly. 

Sunwoo enjoyed this moment where it felt like you were the only ones in the world, all the surrounding noises blurred out from your attention. His thumb that rested on your cheek unknowingly moved back and forth as you enjoyed the soothing act.

Sunwoo's action made the world around Jiyeon stop momentarily. With that beautiful, deep, loving gaze, she waited, "If it's long term?"

He sighs out, "Look, I don't even want to think about the long term. But I know, and I know for sure, that I'll wait for you."

"You…will?" Jiyeon breathlessly confirms as Sunwoo nods with a small tiny smile and half-lidded eyes.

"I will. I’ll always wait for you. So don’t worry yourself over such a thought."

"Promise?" Just like little children, Jiyeon holds up her pinky between their faces, waiting for Sunwoo to link them together. 

He chuckles before sealing his words with the old ritual, "Promise."

Jiyeon squirmed at the promise that she practically forced him to make. Yet Sunwoo still kneeled before her with his hands under her smaller fingers and hands. His hands became colder by the second as his grip became just a tiny bit tighter, hopeful for a positive response.

Your response, however, cut his heart like a knife, "I think…you should just go home, Sunwoo…" 

The last class before lunchtime commences with the students waiting and hustling about the room, waiting for the teacher. Jiyeon’s seatmate talked to her friends from the row in front, telling her the menu her mother packed for lunch, and her friend responded with something similar. 

The discomfort grew too familiar for her and Jiyeon wanted nothing but for the seat to swallow her, hoping that something would protect her from hearing such words about the one thing she couldn’t stand the most at the moment. Or she wished that she could run away like she did instantly when morning break started. When the strict teacher finally came, she couldn’t be any happier at how his booming voice made the whole class quiet instantly and Jiyeon gulped down harshly as a thankful tear came out from her.

In the opposite classroom, Sunwoo clenches his phone underneath his table as his bank account balance is shown once more. He stares at the higher number, furrowing his eyebrows at the transaction made into his account. Further information shows that Jiyeon was the one who did the act and he scoffs in confusion and dumbfoundedness, “What the hell is she doing?” 

Sunwoo thought that he knew Jiyeon well: where she would go when she was happy, when she was sad or when she was struggling. But the earlier morning break proved him otherwise as he ran practically through the whole school to find you, both for the relief of seeing you as well as to ask what was in your mind the other night when you said those hurtful words to him. 

Looking to his left, where he could see the girl on the other side through the classroom windows, he sees the tired look on her face and that signature lip bite that she always does when she's in a hard time. The class was about to end in three minutes and Sunwoo was going crazy about how impatient he was to run into the other room. He made sure his headphones were connected to his phone, turning up the volume a little bit to hear that it was connected properly without being caught by the teacher in the act.

When class is dismissed, he bumps and squishes through people from both classes to a desk in the middle of the class. Girls were entranced with his presence and the boys were greeting the social boy. However, Sunwoo had a really small tunnel vision, only running to a downcasted figure that when approached closer, was just her trying to hold in the cries with her hands on her ears to block out the noises.

Sunwoo comes around to the side of the desk, his phone and the neck of his headphones in one hand. Amongst the still bustling area, he’s surprised at how much he can hear Jiyeon's shaking even though it actually was really quiet. That made him realise how tense and angry his facial expression would’ve been, his heart softening when he heard her struggles.

Carefully, Sunwoo stood behind Jiyeon, picked a random song and tucked it away in his pocket. His left-hand wraps around her tense wrist softly, lowering it down to her lap, whispering words of comfort before engulfing her left ear with his headphones. He did the same with the right ear afterwards, carefully observing how her body slowly relaxes at the tune.

Sunwoo thought that he knew Jiyeon well: in this situation, he could relax that he actually did. 

He waits patiently for her to come back to the present, sitting down on the table directly behind hers as he watches the song change from his phone screen for the next fifteen minutes. Sunwoo feels the pain once again: the pain that he couldn’t take away as he could do nothing but wait for her to acknowledge his presence. Upon last night’s events, Sunwoo was contemplating just leaving his phone on her desk and walking away as he didn’t know how glad she would be with him near her. The thought doubled the pain in Sunwoo’s heart and he decided to click the phone to sleep. Before he could put it on Jiyeon’s desk, however, her body visibly relaxed and Sunwoo widened his eyes and froze, knowing that she’s fully calmed down now. 

Jiyeon’s crying eventually ceases, opening her eyes with a final sniff. Usually, when she did let the light back into her eyes, Sunwoo would be in front of her, flashing that beautiful smile of his that she had come to fall in love with. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t see the usual scene. Her hands come up to both sides of the headphones, pulling them down to rest the headband on her neck shakily. She knew all too well that even when she was crying with her eyes tightly shut, it was Kim Sunwoo. 

It was Kim Sunwoo that came to her rescue and made her feel safe once again.

It was Kim Sunwoo who waited for her to calm down when everyone knew how much he cherished his break time and food.

It was Kim Sunwoo who made her fall in love all over with him once again. 

Jiyeon just stared down at her undecorated nails, pretending to find something interesting about it. In reality, she was just biting her lips, shutting her eyes back and forth in an internal battle to look back at the figure behind her. Her shoulders slumped unconsciously as she recalled her passive actions to Sunwoo the day before, basically kicking him out of her apartment. Jiyeon mulled over her actions the whole night, knowing well that it was so unfair that she pushed Sunwoo out when he most probably rushed over to help.

“Thank you.” Jiyeon says clearly to the person behind her. Sunwoo heard her gratitude clearly, nodding softly still with an incomprehensible face as he just looked at his shoes below him. Noting no response from him, Jiyeon twists her upper body back to see the dejected Sunwoo. Her heart clenches at how he didn’t make the effort to even look up, wishing even more now that he would at least flash her a smile. But that is too much to ask after what happened and Jiyeon knew that, “Sunwoo, I---”

“Why did you send me money?” His tone wasn’t welcoming at all, icy and cold as if he hated the girl. The students that were in the classroom were no more when they heard his tone, quietly packing up and walking away, not wanting to get involved in the drama; though of course, they’ll talk about it outside the classroom.

“I-I just…” Jiyeon stammers, gulping her nerves down. She notices how Sunwoo clenched his fists. The one that held his hand was clenching so hard that his phone was waiting for him to confirm if he wanted to shut the device down, “For delivery last night…”

“You’ve never paid me back. Why now?”

“O-Oh..I can transfer more. I’m sorr---”

Sunwoo scoffs, his whole face grimacing in anger, “That’s not what I meant.” His fiery orbs finally met down with Jiyeon’s red ones, her tears still escaping here and there. All Sunwoo wanted to do at the moment was wipe Jiyeon’s remaining tears, cupping her cheek and pulling her warmth to him. But not now. It’s not the right time, “Jiyeon, I don’t understand why you pushed me away. Of course, if you need space that’s fine. I would always give it to you if you need it, without a doubt or question. In fact, if you need it right now then I’ll leave. But that’s not the only thing you did. You transferred me money and you think that I’m asking for you to pay after all those times?” He stopped for a second, a million sentences running in his head that he rehearsed last night alone in the confused darkness.

“I just…haven’t been able to pay it back.” Jiyeon didn’t know what else to say. She adjusted her position, turning her body so that the left side of her body was facing him, her foot hitting the rear chair leg. Sunwoo didn’t miss how her small fists were now side by side together on her thighs as she stuttered to find some words, “S-So…yeah.”

“Yeah?” After a short time to finally breathe after his long rant, Sunwoo managed to ground himself back, his emotions no longer heated. But now, his heart weighed heavily at everything between him and Jiyeon, “Don’t pay me back.” Sunwoo’s voice wavered, turning his head to the side, trying to control his emotional state, “I did all those things because I care for you, Jiyeon. I care about you so much that it physically hurts me when you’re crying alone, fighting alone like that. You never let anyone in and although I want to say that ‘it’s alright’, I also want to say that it’s not. You have me. Jiyeon, you have me. But you just pushed me away.” 

But it’s hard, isn’t it? To show the side of yourself to someone that you desperately try to hide. It becomes even harder when you try to hide it from someone you like, “I think…” Jiyeon whimpers at the words she’s about to say, contemplating to say it. Is she really going to push him away like this? Will she ever be able to let go of the fact that Sunwoo won’t be her friend anymore? Will she be able to let go of Kim Sunwoo in general? Her heart beats for Sunwoo but her mind is telling her that with all the love Sunwoo receives, why would he ever pick her?

Sunwoo raises himself off the table with the intention of walking away and giving Jiyeon some space. Looking down at the top of Jiyeon’s head, he couldn’t help but blurt out a bit of his feelings, “You don’t know this but I’ve never had a crush on someone before.”

The sudden new topic made Jiyeon lift her head up to face Sunwoo. Unexpectedly to her, Sunwoo was already looking down at her with absolute adoration when he said his words. Jiyeon gasps lightly when Sunwoo starts to lightly tear up, “S-Sunwoo.” Forgetting her earlier thoughts, her body reacted first, standing up to be in front of him, “Hey…why are you crying?” Testing the waters very carefully, Jiyeon slowly raises the back of one of her hands to wipe his cheek.

Sunwoo, of course, lets her do so. He takes notice of her warm hands that completely contrasted yesterday, feeling comforted as he lets out a relieving breath and a small chuckle. Both of her hands were resting on Sunwoo’s cheek so gently, with her thumb wiping motion on his cheek, that he felt like his whole body was being wrapped comfortably by her. He just kept on staring at Jiyeon’s worried expression and the way her lips were throwing out words of comfort, “How am I supposed to ever walk away from you when I’m so in love with you?”

Jiyeon flinches at the sudden confession and before she could back away, Sunwoo quickly places his palms over hers back to his cheeks firmly. His eyes look weak due to his own tiredness from not being able to sleep soundly yet full of strong love for the woman in front of him, “W-What did you just say?”

Exhaling softly at the way Jiyeon looks so unsure, Sunwoo repeats his main point differently, “I’m confessing my feelings for you.” Her once confused parted lips, found each other once again as she searched Sunwoo’s eyes and all over his face for any lies, “I’m not playing with you, Choi Jiyeon. I can see the reluctance in your face.”

“Sunwoo, you have girls lining up for you,” Jiyeon whispers to him, her tone convincing him that something is wrong. “Waiting for you. Girls who are so much easier to be with. Girls that won’t push you away. Girls that won’t make you run out of the house at midnight. Girls that are…not a burden.” In denial, Jiyeon shakes her head, “You don’t lik---”

“Is that what you think you are to me?” Sunwoo counters her calmly, “A burden?”

“I’ve always been a burden all my life. Why do you think my parents left me?” Jiyeon lost all the strength in her arms, and the only thing holding her hands on Sunwoo’s cheek was all his effort, “My grandparents are loving but their lives would’ve been so much easier if I was nev---”

“Mine wouldn’t,” Sunwoo interjected. Whatever it was that she was about to say, it was something to put down her self-worth and he couldn’t handle such things coming out of her. Lowering both of their linked hands, Sunwoo intertwines Jiyeon’s hands with his, “You don’t know how much energy you give me every day. How much motivation you give me throughout the day. How loved and cared for you make me feel.” He shrugs, ignoring the loud beating of his heart, “But now I guess I’m finally telling you.”

The apprehension in Jiyeon’s eyes made Sunwoo comfortingly smile, hoping to ease some of her anxiety. Just like what Jiyeon did towards him earlier, he lets go of one of her hands to rub his thumb on her cheek. It was silent as they were comforting and seemingly communicating with each other through their loving gaze at each other. And so when Jiyeon lets out a small smile, Sunwoo beams brighter than ever, “I like you, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Then date me. Date me and let me love you back.”

Jiyeon blushes at the straightforward statement. Sunwoo flutters his eyes shut as she brushes the hair away from his face, “You won’t regret this?” she breathes the question softly.

Sunwoo shook his head, gently placing his forehead on Jiyeon’s, “Not if you won’t.” He responded in a similar manner. 

“Sunwoo.” Jiyeon turns to her side and glares at her boyfriend who has been staring at her for the last three minutes. Not only did it distract her studies but the way that he looked at her so mesmerisingly made it hard for her to even breathe at this rate, “Stop looking at me.”

Sunwoo kept an innocent smile, pushing his face further forward, pressing a quick peck on her lips, “Why?” He playfully asks.

“You said you were hungry! Go get some food!” Jiyeon pushes Sunwoo away by the shoulder, the male dramatically pushing himself back, “Don’t be dramatic!”

“Fine fine, I’ll go.” Sunwoo drags out the last syllable in the sentence, frowning and slumping on his chair a little bit before standing up with his phone, “Do you…want anything?” Jiyeon could only smile softly as usual, stopping her vigorous typing on her computer at his question.

It’s been more than three years since their relationship started and Sunwoo has been so patient in her journey that every single time he carefully asks the question, Jiyeon could feel her heart melt and fall in love with the boy more and more each time, “Give me a kiss before you go.” She puckered her lips to him, tilting her head up.

Blushing furiously at the unexpected request, Sunwoo buffered before leaning down to hug his lips with her familiar ones. His hand was on Jiyeon’s nape, softly holding her head in this intimate moment. Jiyeon melts even further with his attentive actions, smiling widely in the kiss. Before completely pulling his hand away, Sunwoo brushes her hair out from her forehead to press another kiss. Leaning away to face each other with rosy-tinted cheeks, he asks once again, “Anything else?”

“Make sure you have a safe trip there and back.” Jiyeon presses a kiss on Sunwoo’s cheek before ushering him to go. But he didn’t do anything as he just kept on staring at his girlfriend who reflected the same glimmering look of love in her eyes towards him. Sunwoo’s hand, which still didn’t leave her nape, prevented her from turning away, “ Kim Sunwoo, stop looking at me! I'm not that nice to look at…"

It wasn’t Sunwoo’s plan to stare at Jiyeon for that long. He’s just naturally attracted and so in love with her that he didn’t realise that she was the only thing that he would search for in a whole hall of people, with different colours and different noises. Choi Jiyeon finally let her walls down as they overcame life’s challenges together hand in hand. Kim Sunwoo couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her. "You will always be my favourite scene to look at."

navi/masterlist!!

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️

#deoboyznet #k-labels #k-films #the boyz #tbz #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo the boyz #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #sunwoo timestamps #kim sunwoo x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #sunwoo fanfic #kim sunwoo #the boyz kim sunwoo #tbz sunwoo #the boyz sunwoo #sangyeon #lee sangyeon #jacob bae #younghoon #kim younghoon #hyunjae #lee jaehyun #tbz x reader

[utilitycaster]

speaking of jasmine bhullar, she and brennan had a great convo about min-maxers and i was wondering what your own thoughts on min-maxing were? i'm new-ish to actually playing dnd and i still worry about making myself a problem to the dm as opposed to an asset.

First off as someone who enjoys Adventuring Academy but never has the time to watch the full episodes, thank you for bringing this up - I watched just the debate, and it was incredible and hilarious.

This is a good question. I am 100% in agreement with Jasmine here and she said it better than I could: min-maxing simply means that you read the rules to D&D and decided to use them to your advantage. Reading the rules to D&D is great and everyone should do it (in fact, this a reliable way to be an asset to the DM: know how your character's abilities work). There are a few cases where it sucks but most of those aren't actually due to min-maxing so much as shitty player behaviors that can occur in min-maxers.

I think one reason people dislike min-maxers is that the stereotypical min-maxer builds a character who truly can't do anything except for massive damage, and that does kind of suck, but I also think that that is really hard to build in 5e. You're going to have some other abilities. I think it was much easier to truly min-max in 3.5e, and perhaps in older editions you could really break things (in fact, having listened to some pathfinder 1e actual plays, I know you could).

There is also, as Jasmine points out, a false assumption that min-maxers aren't interested in RP or won't do it. This is very clearly untrue and a few examples off the top of my head from Actual Play that are debatably min-maxed are: Deadeye Cybin (played by Brennan, natch) in NADDPod (damage dealer); Laerryn Coramar-Seelie of EXU Calamity (optimized for survival, especially against non-magical foes); Caduceus Clay and Deanna Leimert of Critical Role (both optimized to be healers, incidentally); Orym and Vex, also of Critical Role (optimized to have a stupidly high perception score), Theo Gumbar of A Crown of Candy (optimized to tank and have a stupidly high AC). These are all fantastic characters with profound RP scenes who happen to also be really, really good at a narrow band of things, but they're also not just good at that. Many of them also can serve as the brains or the face of their party; many have utility spells far beyond their area of specialization.

Another reason people dislike min-maxers is they have a reputation for being ungenerous - for swooping in and stealing the spotlight. The above characters, played by some of the most generous people in actual play, show that's clearly not the case. Also, to be honest, a spotlight hog doesn't have to be min-maxed. It's just a shitty "hey, hey look at me" player. I think attention hogs might be a bit more inclined to try to build a character who is really really good at something (again, usually damage more than say, healing) but that doesn't mean that everyone who builds a gunslinger is here to steal all the glory.

Specialization also isn't bad! The reason D&D is a game where people are in a party is because not everyone can do everything! There are a small handful of characters who are a utility knife who can basically do a little bit of almost everything (Keyleth, Fjord, Moonshine) but they are the exception rather than the rule. Barbarians, for example, are a class that usually is structured around tanking and doing damage. This is fine! You probably don't want a party that's all barbarians because it is useful to have healers and ranged attackers and people who can sink all their high stat rolls into the mental side of things because they don't live and die quite so much by their physical stats, but it sure is nice to have a barbarian in the mix to balance out the glass cannon wizard, isn't it?

If you show up to a table where there is a clear gap in party composition (eg: healing) or there's a clear story the GM wants to tell (eg: very social, requires a lot of diplomacy) and you decide not to fill it because you are too busy building Guy With Stealth Bonus of +20, then that's a problem, but that's ultimately a failure to collaborate. Min-maxing for something that doesn't really help the party is simply the way in which you happened to fail that compromise.

I'm sure there are edge-case, dark corners of D&D Reddit builds that do suck, but honestly most of them suck in that they are actually not good (eg: coffeelock). Your typical case of dumping one stat to max out on another? totally normal, totally cool.

Anyway to get to the part of your question regarding not being a problem: you probably aren't! You're thinking about how to not be a problem to your DM, which people who are problems tend not to do. However, the big takeaways of the above are 1. read the rules of your character and 2. build a character who fits into the world. In the session zero, build a character who has a reason to be doing the things the DM outlines in broad strokes, and who complements the other PCs. If you do that, then it doesn't matter if you min-max or not.

#answered #Anonymous #*cool hand luke voice* what we have here is a failure to collaborate #(i have not seen cool hand luke i should) #d&d mechanics #long post

[doublydaring]

can you explain the michael psychosomatic kittens curse to me please it's been bothering me for upwards of a week

it would be an honor. it's kind of a long story but luckily I'm at work.

1. I was drawing pictures of Mike and Peter on zoom with my bestest friend Cal and I was drawing their beautiful 70s long hair as I am wont to do. A thought occurred in my head that the color of their hairs together would make a beautiful tortoiseshell cat. This prompted me to say aloud: "They would have beautiful kittens." Which of course raised questions. I wasn't even really thinking about kitten pregnancy at this point I was just thinking about their hair. But kitten pregnancy sprung forth none the less.

2. The household has been on kind of a Phyllis kick lately because I have a 73 slide long PowerPoint on the Monkees that I have been workshopping into a sort of combination stand up comedy/performance art piece. Our second focus group (the cast of rocky horror) said that they liked it but wanted more interpersonal drama. So I added Peter and Davy's fight and a "wife timeline" so we've been thinking about Monkee wives and I recently read Mike's book and Phyllis I think we can all agree is one of the most interesting and under-examined people in the whole Monkee cluster fuck.

3. So Mike is pregnant with Kittens. Because he and Peter would have beautiful kittens. And we all agree that being pregnant would be a good thing for Mike Nesmith. On a physical level it would suit him but also from a sort of pseudo feminist perspective where he is forced to take on the burden of """"womanhood"""" we feel it could help to facilitate understanding to what he's putting these women through.

4. So it becomes sort of body horror, where he is forced to confront the physical and emotional labor that he has been foisting on Phyllis and then neglecting her but in becoming pregnant he understands her and their relationship blossoms. We decide that Phyllis sort of has a mental break and convinces herself that she's going to trick Mike into thinking he's pregnant so that he understands just for a moment what she's going through. We try to come up with ways you could try to convince a man he is pregnant (this is difficult).

5. We realize we have lost the kitten plot. But Riley (who has been here the whole time because we share a room but I didn't want to introduce to many characters into this) has been taking a class on monsters and the monstrous and there is this medieval medical belief called "the maternal imagination" which is basically the idea that if you are pregnant and get scared by a mouse your baby will be born mouselike. Or if you are looking at a picture of a man who is not your husband while you conceive a baby the baby will look like the man in the picture, not it's actual father. It's a very interesting sort of belief.

6. So we decide that Mike stumbles upon a sick kitten one day and brings it home and is positively doting. Phyllis and his real life children remain secondary. He's about work and this fucking kitten. And so of course it becomes the object of Phyllis’s ire. And she hates that right? Because it's a sick and tiny kitten. And really she should hate Mike (but she cannot hate Mike this is a fundamental truth of her character). But she decides that she can make him understand. By making him think he's pregnant. And she goes to bed that night and has a dream that she gives birth to kittens.

7. Of course this is totally delusional he's never going to think he's pregnant but weirdly, he starts to ... act pregnant? In ways that she would have absolutely no control over. He's got that glow and he's gaining weight and most of all he's happy and is spending a lot more time at home hanging around. And she starts to get all doting excited husband on him. And their relationship is a lot more tenable now that their roles have subtly shifted. Because she is the responsible one right? But previously she'd have to defer to him and he had to perform this masculine patriarch role and neither of them are brave enough to challenge it but they both feel wrong fulfilling those roles. This is just right. But it's also very fucking wrong. Because Mike is pregnant??? And it's getting pretty undeniable. It is also clear that whatever is in there is not a baby. Phyllis has had babies and this is four little squirmy things. And so eventually Mike has kittens and it is not clarified how physically this happens but it does and it fixes him.

Sorry. I know this is pretty much batshit insane but it is the story.

[thatdogmagic]

So, there's some posting going around, and after being alerted to what exactly is being made public, it's pretty clear I can't go with my initial inclination which is 'leave this alone.'

First things first:

a) I'm not going to fight any accusations of having done something potentially racist. I'm a white person raised very white; when I was made aware that the default ways I was responding to things were reading very poorly in the context of a white person and a black person, I apologized. No matter how I feel about what's happening *currently*, I still am sorry about it. I really hadn't thought of how it would come off until I saw it in hindsight.

I can't say for sure what all is being referenced aside from that instance. I'm not going to be the best judge, for the reasons mentioned above. The best I can do is absorb, apologize, keep learning to be better, and continue to chip away at the boneheaded 40yo white person shit.

b) re: ableism, the sad irony of the screengrab posted is that I was having an autistic meltdown at the time (which, no, is not an excuse). Use of the r-slur, in reference to myself, is a very sure sign I'm in the middle of one, reaching for an impact word and choosing a really terrible one. Like the verbal equivalent of hitting yourself, giving voice to what are, yes, at root, ableist thoughts that live in my head about my own diagnosis. I can and do get very frustrated with my autism sometimes, especially when I 'fail' to learn fast enough to manage it (read: fail to prevent a meltdown).

I'm also genuinely sorry people had to see that, both people in the chat and now, everywhere. I did, yes, delete it because I hated it being there, and I didn't want especially that to be the footprint I left on the server, if it was ever repurposed/the channels weren't recycled (brief note on that later).

Anyway yeah it's something I really need to work on. And it's disheartening to see it cherrypicked when everyone there was aware of the context, but yea; if you see some really wild shit from screencaps, please keep in mind that a lot of it has already been extremely cherrypicked/context is going to be missing. If the whole conversation isn't present, ask to see it.

That's the heaviest stuff that needed addressing.

The accusations of character theft are another thing, because that involves Ependa, and a conversation I had personally with Jackal that was settled amicably a year ago. Or so I thought.

It's the one conversation I did think to save in its entirety, because I just-- had a feeling it might end up being in the cherrypicked pile, or removed from the record entirely. I didn't expect to have to need it this soon, but here we are.

So here it is, in its entirety:

All of that is true, on my end. I was the one who told Ependa to go with a darker complexion on Lacey, and it really didn't quite occur to me at the time that it'd be much of an issue. It should have. The characters are distinct to me in a variety of ways, but as said in the screengrabs, it's a small pond. Past that, if there was more we could do to differentiate then it wasn't discussed with either of us, and we were both open to making further alterations as-needed.

This is not the first time this conversation has been had among werewolf creators, fwiw, or the first time we've had to chat amongst ourselves about potential crossover. I've had to have a similar talk with another artist I know and respect because there were a few too many similarities going on with a set of pieces I was already working on.

Ependa had to recently have that conversation with Trashasaurus (which I'm paraphrasing a Ependa's request), re: commissions that had requested a character that had taken a lot of visual inspiration from both Lin and Toska. She'd noticed Toska's traits and vibe and wasn't entirely comfortable with it, and upon learning they had been requested asked Trashasaurus not to take on those commissions anymore. Trashasaurus agreed and that seemed to be the end of it, save to drop some warning about the 'Lacey talk' which-- well. See above. That's it, in its entirety.

If Ependa wants to post the logs of her conversation, she can, but I'll leave that up to her.

So, that's the heart of the matter at the moment.

It's yet another fallout of yet another failed project by yet another group of artists. It's a tale as old as time, and I would've really loved to have not given it fuel, but the r-slur thing backed me into a corner and needed to be addressed. And if that was being addressed, then others things needed to be addressed, too.

The thing about character theft, though-- yeah, IDK. If there was a problem, there was a year to solve it, and the offer made to post publicly about the oops/acknowledge it right there in that moment was genuine. So far as anyone knew, this had all been settled, and any time it was brought up after there were a million assurances that it wasn't an issue.

Last: I deleted my presence on the server because I a) wasn't sure if it was going to be repurposed and wanted a lot of very personal conversations/old images removed if that happened, b) was frankly concerned about something like this happening; cherrypicked conversations getting tossed up online if things got any worse. I used undiscord, which deletes chronologically, because deleting everything is easier than finding specific conversations/image files.

Because the worst of the fights happened last, well. Yeah it's gonna look like I'm deleting the worst parts first.

I also wouldn't have willingly agreed to be on a server using third party logging software/deleted message retrieval plugins, either, had I known that was in play, but that's a 'live and learn' moment for me, unfortunately.

Anyway that's it, that's all. I can't tell anyone how to think or feel about any of this. I'll be here and will continue to post art, though, for those who still feel like sticking around.

#admin #reblogs off

[walkawaytall]

Oh no, I’m participating in Star Wars discourse.

Uh, so there’s a post floating around that I’m not reblogging mainly because it’s just this person’s headcanon and, whatever, people can have headcanons, but the main points they make in the midst of talking about their headcanon that I’ll be addressing are:

Leia and Han getting married and having kids is the most boring thing you can do with Leia

Leia should be a Jedi like every other dang Skywalker because somehow continuing an assumed dynasty isn’t the most boring choice you can make for her

Leia is more cut out to handle lack of attachment than Luke which we know because of her lack of response to Alderaan being destroyed

Leia and Han shouldn’t get married or even be around each other much because Han is a wandering soul and needs to travel and go places

Leia never expresses a desire for marriage or children in the OT, so removing these things won’t contradict George Lucas’ canon

And, look, these are just…missing the point of the character growth that occurs in these two during the OT.

(there's just a whole-ass essay below the cut if anyone cares to read about the many thoughts I have on Leia Organa and Han Solo.)

So, I'm not saying existing or past canon/EU has done it right, but I disagree with the statement that having them marry and live kind of basic lives is the most boring choice. If that's all there was to it, sure, but those two choices by themselves show a monumental amount of character growth for both Leia and Han. (I mean, frankly, I think "Skywalker = Jedi every time no matter what" is a pretty boring choice storytelling wise, but I also think the Jedi on the whole are incredibly boring characters, so, uh...I'm biased.)

Leia was never going to live a quiet life even if Alderaan hadn't been destroyed. Like, she did not have that option, period. She would have either remained in politics or taken over as queen, may or may not have had to marry for political reasons, and may or may not have been involved with the Rebellion. Her life was chaos starting as a teen and she had no reason to believe she wouldn't die living a hectic and chaotic life.

And then she loses everything. This isn't emphasized in the movies obviously because they are fun family romps and not gritty dramas, but, good night, in a single second, she loses every family member, nearly every person she knows, every place she finds most familiar and comfortable, everything and to top it all off, the guilt that it's happened because of her unwillingness to give up the Alliance will probably always be there. She was tortured, they lost lives in battle, and, yeah, they destroy the Death Star, but at the end of that day, literally all she has left is the Alliance and those three pilots who managed to unlock her cell door without too much trouble.

I don't know about you, but I'd be straight-up shut down emotionally at that point. Like, I don't think PTSD even covers what Leia probably has going on in her head. And I think that's kind of what we see in ESB (I know the filmmakers weren’t thinking in terms of PTSD, but there are still hints of it there regardless). She's angry, she's afraid of losing people (she's obviously pissed Han is leaving after he said he'd stay, but also, there's a scene that was cut -- a good move in my opinion because the dialogue is beyond dramatic and Carrie seems out of it, but it stands that this was the intended source of Leia’s frustration -- where Luke is telling Leia he's leaving the Alliance for Dagobah and she is extremely upset that both he and Han are leaving, goes on a whole rant about how she should know better than to trust anyone but herself, etc.), and when she finally lets Han in, she promptly loses him and nearly loses Luke.

And then the events of ROTJ happen and she finds out that the man who tortured her, who stood idly by while her entire planet was destroyed, who tortured the man she loves and handed him off to the space mob to be murdered, who cut off her brother's hand and nearly allowed him to die, who has terrorized the Galaxy in general, that guy is her bio dad. And that guy is the entire reason she's Force-sensitive.

Leia stopping her Jedi training in the new canon was for a dumb reason, I agree there. Leia not wanting anything to do with the thing that, from her point of view, nearly ruined her life and the lives of those she loves about a thousand times over...I dunno, I think that's way more interesting than her just going, "Ope, I'm a Skywalker! You know what that means! Gotta be a Jedi!" And as far as her being more of a natural at it...do we know that Leia is better at healthy non-attachment than Luke? Like, any response to a planet being destroyed could easily just be a trauma response. Is shutting down like that good, actually? Or is it just going to cause problems down the road, Anakin-style?

I don't know, I just think that after living through all of that as well as a freaking war, girly might want a quiet life -- that she gets to choose -- with a husband -- who she gets to choose -- and kids -- who she gets to raise without the threat of the Empire or her nightmare of a biological father looming over their lives. And the very fact that she's able to open herself up to that sort of love and affection when the fear that it might all be ripped away from her is likely ever-present is a big deal. Her having kids knowing they'll likely be Force-sensitive even though that aspect of her biology terrifies her is a big deal. And as far as her not expressing a desire for marriage and kids in the OT...I mean, Leia isn't given the opportunity to express her desire for much in the OT, let's be real (she also never expresses a desire to become a Jedi in the OT either. We can't use what Leia didn't express in the OT to dictate whether she wants or doesn't want something is what I'm saying). They're at war. She's a military leader. She probably can't even hazard wishing for anything beyond waking up the next day. But that's not to say she didn't want such things or grow to want such things once she felt it was safe to do so. We literally don't know, but I don't think the absence of that expressed desire is indicative of anything.

As far as Han goes, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure in every iteration of his story, his itchy feet weren't like...a part of his personality. He had a highly traumatic childhood that left him with few options and ended up living a transient lifestyle out of necessity. He actually seems remarkably easy to keep around if you don't treat him like garbage. I mean, he's given exactly one day of friendship, and he sticks around with the Rebellion for three years before some run-in with a bounty hunter makes him realize he needs to take care of his debt with Jabba. He's not leaving just for funsies or because he's bored or just really needs to be a smuggler again...and he seems legitimately sad have to leave when he's not busy getting pissed at Leia for not having the emotional response he wants her to have (first half of ESB Han is being a big ol' baby and I'm perfectly fine admitting that). And what character growth to see Han "I'm in it for the money" Solo learn to care for his friends, learn to support a cause, learn to love Leia when he's spent so much of his life unattached. Han making boring life choices is indicative of character growth and learning to care about others more than himself. What a lovely thing for this man to learn.

The call for Leia and Han to remain living separate lives but still committed to one another kind of demands that they move backward in character growth in my opinion. We have two people who are in rough places due, by and large, to trauma, who eventually open up to one another and seem better for it and then they...just go back to what they were doing before except they occasionally see each other? Why would they want that? They've grown as people, they've won a dang war, and they're finally able to live somewhat securely. Why wouldn't they want to live basic lives when they were denied the privilege of such choices for so long? And how is them making choices based on their love for another person — love that they had a heck of a time coming to terms with — boring?

#leia organa #han solo #star wars #star wars meta #star wars discourse