#and we are sitting around the campfire in awe

[orionsangel86]

who cares about fandom. it's shows. shows aren't important american

This ask is really confusing to me. Are you calling me American as an insult? If so thats super funny to me since I most certainly am not American!

I know this is just someone being a dick for the sake of being a dick, but I will take this ask sincerely because I have the freedom of choice to do so. Who does care about fandom? Lots of people actually.

You know what is a huge and important fandom to lots of people worldwide? Football. Maybe you don't see it the same way because it's not about some dumb TV show, but its still a fandom. They even have different factions for different teams, and it gets weirdly nationalistic during global competition events. So who cares about fandom? Well, for football fans, I'd say about 5 billion people.

But limiting it to those unimportant shows anon has chosen to sneer at, well, in recent years comic cons around the world have reported a total of 1.8million+ attendees each year. And that is just a fraction of the fans who can afford to attend these conventions (plus these are only the big conventions not including the likes of Creation cons). Regardless of how much you sneer at it, fandom is huge and a huge part of many peoples lives. Fandom has brought people community, support, connection, and a mountain of creativity at its heart.

On a personal note, some of my best friends were met through Supernatural Fandom. We still talk regularly to this day and I try to meet up with them as often as possible even though we are all dotted all over Europe and America. Without Supernatural, a so called unimportant show, I wouldn't have those real life connections which mean so much to me and have made my life better.

Ask any actor from one of those unimportant shows, and they will tell you how they have met with fans who literally found reason to keep living through the shows that they loved, that the struggles and journeys of the characters they are passionate about literally saved their lives. Tell those people that fandom isn't important, that their shows are meaningless eh? Tell that to someone who was thinking of ending their own life but chose to keep living because they saw how important that was to their fave characters.

The Supernatural actors put out an actual crisis hotline to support fans struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts. They started campaigns like Always Keep Fighting and You Are Not Alone because they saw how much their fandom relied on them and the fandom they were apart of, because the show was their only escape from a harsh reality. Misha Collins was able to get his Random Acts charity off the ground through the support of fandom, and to this date Random Acts has succeeded in supporting communities worldwide, including providing disaster relief in Haiti and building a school in Nicaragua.

So much for an unimportant show, when its very existance has spurned a crisis network and a charity that continue to support and save lives globally.

And thats JUST Supernatural. There is so much work done by fandoms everywhere, for all different shows. Fandom is Community. And when communities get together they create wonderful things, they support each other, and sometimes, they save lives.

Who are you to say community is unimportant? Who are you anon? a user of Tumblr.com, the fandom website, to make such a bold and wrong claim? Television is storytelling, and storytelling is one of the oldest art forms. It makes us human, connects us with our past and speaks to our hearts and souls. We share our love and joy and passion through storytelling. It is where we find escape from the humdrum of our daily lives, it is where true magic lies. There is nothing unimportant about that.

[wasawattpadkid]

OMG YOU’RE WRITING IS SO EFFING GOOD I can’t stop coming back to your page. Can you possibly do a poly ghost face x fem reader⚠️ prompt being something like “do you think they can hear us through the tent?” Friend group going camping. I think it would be a dangerous situation but exciting.

Thank you so much you're too sweet! I hope I did your request justice! 💕 Thanks for the ask!

Voices Carry

Summary: A camping trip can be stressful and painful. With Billy being the mule of the group his back ached. You and Stu were just the ones to help with that.

Pairing: Poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings: ⚠️smut 18+⚠️ explicit boyxboy, unsafe sex, slight degrading, slight praise, rough sex, tears, cum, p in v, oral (male receiving), after care, vulgar language, threesome, power dynamics

"I hate fucking bugs." Billy said as he swatted the gnats away from his face. "How do you get their little legs apart?" Stu laughed at his own joke earning silence from the kids around him. "Lighten up guys. This'll be fun, we're going to have s'mores tonight!" It seemed you and Sydney were the only ones happy about the camping trip. "Yeah, we'll sit around the campfire and tell scary stories. You're good at that, aren't you babe?" You looked at Billy and Stu letting them know you were talking about both of them. "Damn right I am." Stu threw his arm over your shoulder. You hadn't told your friends about dating the two boys, it was only official with Stu. However they all knew about your sleeping habits.

"This is exactly how Friday the 13th started. If this were a movie we'd be doomed." Randy exclaimed as he held Sydney's hand. "I'm the only single one here I'm already doomed." Tatum took a swig of her almost empty soda bottle. "James Dean back there is single. Ask him out." Randy pointed towards Billy who wore a plain t-shirt paired with distressed blue jeans. Tatum looked at the boy with something close to disbelief. Billy shot her a tight lipped smile with raised eyebrows as he shrugged his shoulders. "He's not exactly my type." Stu laughed pointing at your shared boyfriend. "Ooh burn!"

"Since when did you get picky about boys?" Randy asked earning a slap to the back of the head. "Ow you know that actually really hurt." Billy smiled looking at his boots as they crunched the greenery beneath them. "You deserved that one bud." Tatum nodded agreeing with you. Sydney checked her map making sure you were walking in the right direction. "Can we keep moving my back is killing me?" Billy complained looking at the lousy tour guide. "I'll take it from you buddy." Stu reached out touching his partner's shoulder. You and the group were walking ahead when you heard Stu yelp behind you. Everyone turned seeing Stu hold his hand in pain as Billy chuckled to himself. "He bit me!"

Eventually you and the gang found a decent place to set up camp. "Does anyone here know how to set up a tent?" Randy asked having no clue where to start. "Does anyone know how to set up a tent?" Stu mocked the boy earning a laugh from the girls. "No dipshit, we all just walked miles with tents on our back to use as fire wood. Of course we know how to set up a tent, we're actually men." Stu flexed his arm showing off the muscle. "Does your masculine overcompensation ever get embarrassing?" Tatum quipped making Stu's face drop. "Jokes on you I don't know what that means." He stuck out his tounge making her scoff.

"Think fast Stu." Billy called pitching his bag to Stu. "Who's sleeping where?" Tatum asked noticing the two unmade tents. "Y/n's crashing with us. So I guess that leaves you, Sydney, and twiddle dumb." Randy nodded used to Stu's obnoxious jokes. "Real cute Macher." Stu framed his face with his hands showing off his teeth. "I try!" You rolled your eyes heading over to Billy helping him with the tent. "Awful big hammer you've got there." You bumped his shoulder as your friends continued their bickering. Billy shook his head with a laugh. "You and him are just alike." He said referring to Stu.

"I'd like to think I'm a little hotter." You said sitting down on the ground. Billy raised up stretching his back. He used the back of his forearm to swipe the sweat from his forehead. You were caught up in watching him when a loud crash grabbed your attention. "Are you okay Randy?" His girlfriend asked as he lay beneath the crumpled tent. "I'm fine!" He called out as Stu hit the ground laughing. After about 30 minutes or so both tents were set up. You and Tatum could've helped but watching the boys argue over who could do what was better.

Sydney started on the fire as it began to get dark. "I'll get sticks for s'mores!" You jumped up going on a hunt for skewers. "Ew I'm not putting that in or around my food." Tatum said thinking her friends were crazy. "If you're worried about germs the fire kills almost any bacteria on your food." Billy pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do you think they did it back in the old days Tate?" Stu asked sitting next to the girl. "I don't know doofus I wasn't around back then." You came back handing each person their own stick. The night continued with everyone having a drink or two and eating s'mores. Billy chased Randy around with a stick on fire as Stu cheered him on and Sydney told him to stop.

"Is this thing safe to sleep in?" Tatum asked as she looked inside of the tent Randy put up. "Yes it's safe to sleep in." Randy said aggravated that his work was thought so little of. "It looks great." Sydney kissed his cheek making his sour mood fade. "Alright well we're going to get some sleep." Billy smacked the tops of his thighs as he stood up. "If the tent starts a-rockin don't come a-knockin." Stu stuck his tongue out at the teenagers causing everyone including you make a face. "Get your ass in the tent." You smacked his arm making him laugh. You and Billy laid down pillows and blankets trying to figure out how to make the sleeping arrangement comfortable.

"I call dibs on the middle." Stu threw himself down wincing once he realized you could still very much feel the earth underneath the tent. "In your fucking dreams, she always gets middle." Billy kicked his partner trying to get him to move. "It's not that big of a deal I can sleep anywhere." You shrugged making both boys huff out a laugh. "Yeah we know. You slept the whole way up here." That was true. Traveling long distances always made you drowsy. "That just means I'm not tired now." Billy immediately looked at Stu who was grinning up at you. You turned around grabbing your backpack off the ground. The bright red pack of cards revealed itself as you pulled them from the bag. "I brought uno!" You said happily as Stu groaned and Billy couldn't help but laugh.

"I win again. Are you colorblind or something?" Billy shuffled the cards like a dealer in Vegas. You carefully watched his hands as they played with the cards. "Take a picture it'll last longer." Billy smirked seeing you staring out of the corner of his eye. "Oh sorry." You fixed your posture out of embarrassment. "It's all good." Billy's voice was low trying to stay quiet but it made you want to scream. "Are we playing another round or what?" Billy's question made Stu throw his head back with a whine. "I rather cover myself in peanut butter and go running out there than play another game of this shit." Normally you'd snap at him for complaining but all you could do was look at him. His head was tilted back showing off his neck while his tank top let your eyes run down the obvious veins on his arms. "Is anybody else hot in here?" You pinched your shirt shaking the fabric hoping to cool yourself off.

Stu perked up as Billy put away the cards. "You could take of your clothes off." Billy looked at Stu letting him know not to be pushy. "What! I'm just trying to help my girlfriend." Stu put his hand over his heart trying to seem genuine. While the boys bickered you pulled your top off showing off your black sports bra. "I didn't think you'd actually do it." Stu bit his lip as he scanned the new skin on display. "Relax I'm just getting ready for bed." The way your head was running with wild thoughts you needed the sleep. You stripped off down to your underwear knowing how hot it gets sleeping in between Billy and Stu. "It's supposed to get down in the 40s tonight." Billy warned taking off his jeans and switching them to sweatpants.

"We'll keep you warm babe." Stu kissed your neck looking at Billy as if to say "shut the fuck up." Billy shook his head peeling the white shirt from his torso. The muscles in his back contracted as he rolled his shoulders. All day he had been tense. He wasn't sure if it was the constant social interaction or the 50 pound backpack he had to hike with. Stu left you sitting on the sleeping mat as he switched out of his clothes. "Billy come here." You waved him over seeing he was uncomfortable. He walked over to you not knowing what you wanted. "Sit down I'm going to see if I can help you." Stu scoffed as Billy sat with his back towards you. "He needs more help than you can give him."

Billy flipped off his friend as Stu continued to change. "Is it your shoulders or what?" Billy leaned his head over trying to stretch out his neck. "It's mostly my neck and my shoulders. They've been bothering me all damn day." You placed your hands on his shoulders slowly rubbing out the tension with your thumbs. Billy's eyes closed in hopes the dark would make the pain a little more bearable. Stu was left in nothing but his boxers as he watched his partners. "Is that helping at all?" You wanted to make sure you weren't hurting him. "Yeah." He moaned in pain. Both you and Stu immediately looked at each other knowing how that sounded. With a nod Stu asked you to do it again.

You repeated the pattern on his shoulder pressing down on a certain spot. Another groan left Billy's lips. Billy wasn't aware of the effect he was having on you and Stu. The short haired boy walked over sitting in front of his boyfriend. Billy opened one eye looking at Stu with suspicion. "What are you doing?" He didn't trust Stu when he had that sort of hellish gleam in his eyes. "Me? Oh nothing." Stu responded as you continued to massage Billy's shoulders. "I doubt that- ah!" He exclaimed his head lulling back in pain. You didn't know if it was wrong that his pain turned you on but you were glad you weren't the only one. You pressed a kiss to Billy's neck which brought a smile to his face.

Stu's movement however wasn't as innocent. His hand rubbed against the crotch of Billy's sweatpants making the boy between you two sigh. "We can't do this right now. They'll hear us." Billy said making no move to stop either of you. You had given up trying to suppress the hunger that had consumed you all day. Billy's breath was ragged as Stu continued to rub his growing erection. You smiled against Billy's skin before whispering next to his ear. "Are you telling me you can't be quiet?" Stu tugged at Billy's waistband signaling the boy to raise his hips. Once he did Stu tugged his pants down his legs and off to the side of the tent. "I can be quiet but I know you can't." Billy bit back as his eyes closed tight trying to figure out how he could gain some control. "Who said anything about me?" You whispered as Stu pulled Billy's cock from his uncomfortably tight briefs. "Fuck..." Billy groaned knowing he lost whatever game you two were playing.

You went back to kissing and biting Billy's neck as Stu began to slide his hand up and down the boy's cock. Stu looked at you with a sense of astonishment in his eyes. Billy was a control freak in and out of the bedroom. He was always on top barking orders unless you physically tied him down. So for this to be happening was like lighting in a bottle. Stu scooted down licking a stipe up the boy's shaft. Billy's abs contracted as his hips rolled upwards. You watched happily as Stu's tongue swirled around the tip of Billy cock smearing the bead of precum around his skin. A small gasp could be heard coming from the man under your touch.

His knuckles were white as they gripped the sheets beneath him. It took every ounce of strength not to throat fuck the man who continuously teased him. Stu sat up leaving Billy needy but he'd die before he begged. "Lay back." Stu said making you move out of the way. Billy's back hit the mat as he looked up at the both of you. That little red tint on his cheeks made him look insanely attractive. "Well are you two assholes going to do anything or do I need to get myself off?" The smirk on Billy's face somehow made his words endearing. Stu leaned over whispering instructions in your ear. With wide eyes you looked up at the man. "Go ahead."

You pulled off your underwear leaving them where they dropped. Billy quickly ridded himself off his underwear leaving himself completely naked in front of you and Stu. You walked over to the man on the ground straddling his hips. Your lips connected with his greedily. Billy grabbed his cock running the tip up and down your folds making you moan into his mouth. Without a warning he slipped the tip into your entrance. You sat up properly lining him up before slowly sinking down on his cock. Billy let out what could only be described as a growl through gritted teeth. You started to rock your hips back and forth letting your clit rub against his skin.

Stu walked over helping you out of your bra as you continued your movements. Leaning down he pressed a kiss to your lips before he got rid of his own underwear. Billy watched as you pumped Stu's cock with one hand, the other rested on Billy's abdomen keeping your balance. Your lips wrapped around the tip of Stu's cock, your tongue running flat against the slit. The warmth from your cunt and the sight in front of him almost made Billy cum. "I need you to move." Billy spoke, his voice deep and worn.

You pulled your mouth off of Stu's length with a pop. "What's the magic word?" You teased. "Fuck you." Billy spat appalled you thought that'd work on him. You squeezed around his cock making a slight whimper leave his lips. "Say please." Your eyes hardened waiting to hear the word come from him. "You're a fucking bitch." He sighed in defeat. "Please." His voice was shaky only making his plea hotter. "Good boy." You tapped his cheek making his nostrils flare in anger. His fingers dug into your thigh sure to leave bruises. You started to bounce as Stu shoved his cock back in your mouth. With a grip on your hair he paced himself. Moans were loud against the tent as your thighs started to burn.

"Just like that." Stu moaned as you hollowed out your cheeks. Tears began to well up in your eyes making the world around you blurry. You looked up at Stu seeing him smile down at you. "You're so beautiful with my cock in your mouth." He complimented as Billy thrusted his hips upward. You moaned around Stu not being able to suppress your volume. "Shh." Stu wiped the tear that fell from your eye. His head lulled back with a silent moan. Billy shook beneath you needing to cum. "Stu.. I- I need her to move." His voice cracked as his restraint faltered. "Give me a damn minute." Stu had a habit of getting cocky. In a normal setting Billy would've immediately put an end to it. He'd didn't tolerate what he considered "bitchy behavior."

Stu continued to use your mouth however he pleased. "Y/n baby..." Billy softly spoke making you pull away from Stu. "Fuck!" Stu whisper yelled at the loss of your lips. Billy grabbed your waist easily pulling you off of him. He kissed your lips before he stood up. "Get on your fucking knees." Billy spat at Stu more than upset. Stu being smarter than he looked dropped to his knees in front of his boyfriend. Billy grabbed the mans face roughly squishing the delicate skin beneath his fingers. "Open. Tongue out." Stu obeyed his tongue hanging out allowing Billy's cock to easily slid in. Your fingers found your clit quickly circling the bud.

Billy was always more aggressive with Stu knowing he could and loved to take it. Billy's thighs trembled as he got close. "Y-Y/n come here please..." The willing politeness made you even hotter than before. You crawled over next to Stu sitting back on your heels. Billy pulled out from Stu's mouth letting you know exactly what he was doing. You opened your mouth with your tongue out much like your boyfriend next to you. Billy pumped his cock till ropes of cum hit both you and Stu.

He milked his orgasm till there was nothing left. Quickly you swallowed what hit your tongue not thinking of the taste. Stu seemed to have a mouth full as he swallowed. "That would be way easier with a chaser." Stu joked wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. "Shut up." Billy said with a smile trying to clear the fog from his mind. Stu pressed his lips yours as he slowly pushed you back on the mat. Both of you had yet to finish and he was going to fix that.

His cock seemed to slam into you making your breath leave your body. He sat up holding your legs still. Stu's pace was quick and brutal making your moans come out in fractions. One of his hands fell between your legs playing with you clit. His thrusts never faltered as you slowly felt that familiar pressure build. Your face contorted in pleasure signaling you were close. Stu's free hand covered your mouth knowing how loud you could get. That band seemed to snap within you making chills cover your body. You cried out into his palm as he continued his thrusts. Once your orgasm had passed he pulled out finishing over your stomach.

Stu gasped for air not being able to breathe. He fell over on the mat trying to catch his breath. It'd be awhile since he had an orgasm so strong. Billy went into his backpack pulling out the wet wipes he had brought. The cloth was freezing against your warm skin. A small wince left your lips as he cleaned up the mess his partner made. "I know baby..." He whispered. Billy pitched the cloth to the corner of the tent telling himself he'd get it in the morning. Billy fell between you and Stu before pulling a blanket to cover you and him. "That was fucking awesome." Stu exclaimed finally getting ahold of the air he urgently needed. "You okay?" Billy asked you seeing the permanent smile plastered on your face. "I think we broke her Macher." He smiled glad everyone enjoyed themselves. Stu curled up next to Billy pulling the blanket over his lower half.

"Do you hear that?" You asked the boys listening to the soft sound of grunting. "Holy shit." Billy said as Stu giggled. "Here I was worried they could hear us." You said laughing. Your head rested on Billy's chest listening to his heartbeat. The three in the other tent went at it for another 5 minutes making you and your boyfriends laugh. Stu was the first to fall asleep, softly snoring into his pillow. "That was okay wasn't it?" Billy asked again. He could be really assertive and aggressive during sex but afterwards he'd make sure everyone was okay. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It was great. I'm just a little sore." Stu wasn't a careful person. He could be extremely rough but he never meant to be. You knew tomorrow he'd be carrying you around saying he was sorry for being so careless.

"Do you need anything before I fall asleep?" His voice became deep with sleep. "No I don't think so." He kissed the top of your head before getting comfortable. Within 10 minutes you were both fast asleep.

The morning sun was unforgiving. The tent did little to nothing when it came to shielding you from the light. "Morning sunshine!" Stu said looking down at your naked body. "Good morning pervert." He leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips. "Sydney made coffee if you want some." You looked to your left noticing the lack of Billy. Stu noticed your concern. "He's already up. Tatum and Randy are still sleeping." He laughed thinking of last night. You nodded letting Stu leave before you got dressed.

"Good morning." Sydney said both of you shared a moment of silent acknowledgment. "Morning." She handed you a cup of coffee which you thanked her for. Tatum erupted from the tent ready to fight anyone who said something. "Did you have a good night last night?" Stu asked making Billy look at the ground with a smile. "Suck a dick Stu. Oh wait, you did." Tatum said almost making you choke on your drink. Billy couldn't help but laugh with Sydney. "That wasn't even that funny." Stu said disappointed in his friends. Randy was the next to leave the tent earning a high five from Stu. "Randy my man!" You rolled your eyes sipping on your drink.

The day dragged on with everyone going swimming and later eating hot dogs. By the end of the day everyone was on good terms even laughing about the night previous. Sydney snapped some photos of the group making sure everyone had atleast one polaroid to take home. Billy looked down at the picture in his hand. Everyone was smiling and having fun. He hated to say it but he might just go camping again.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

relaxation — charles smith

a camping trip, some stress relief  kinktober day 3: size kink

tags: smut, size kink / stomach bulge, breeding, ambiguous timeline, petplay/hybrids? use of bunny/bear

🐇

His large arms wrapped around my torso, his hands grabbing the flesh of my stomach and his chin resting on the top of my head. “Evenin’, baby. Any chance you’d wanna come hunting with me?” He spoke casually.

“Hi.” I smiled, not turning my head as I rinsed bowls in the lukewarm water. “We’re going hunting?”

“Of course. You’re always helpful.” He spoke sweetly, biting his tongue and pressing a kiss onto my temple. “Prefer you to anyone else.”

His large hands grabbed hold of my waist as he helped me down from my steed. “You know I can do that myself, right?” I laughed softly, 

“But why would you when I’m right here?” He placed me on the ground and hitched my horse to the nearby tree.

He started putting up the tent casually, like nothing was going on beyond a simple day out and it was beginning to feel like exactly that.

“So what’re we hunting?” I attempted to scrounge together as many sticks as possible, trying to start a small campfire, and I slumped down on the ground, striking a match against my boot and letting it light.

He shrugged as he put the tent up, tying the entryway flaps open with a clip. I shrugged, handing him the bedrolls and he laid them down side-by-side. He let out a small laugh at my actions, watching me sit back down next to the small fire.

“Nothin’. Just needed to get you out of camp.” He admitted once he climbed out of the tent, he sat by the edge and crossed his legs.

“And to think you were being helpful.” I scoffed slightly, though he simply patted his thighs, gesturing for his intentions. I crawled towards him, and eventually took a perch on his lap. 

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed.

“You’re predictable.” 

“You’re beautiful.” His chest rumbled slightly. “I had to take care of my sweet bunny, hm? I could tell you needed time away.” His words were sweet, and each sentence was met with a kiss to the face.

I wrapped my arms around his strong shoulders, nuzzling myself into his neck. “Maybe you got one thing right.” I commented, legs sprayed across his large thighs. His hands run up and down my back, holding me close to him.

“Such a good bunny.” He cooed, removing my boots softly and placing them to the side.

He moved us further into the tent, moving swiftly to lay me down flat against the soft bedroll. He shut the tent flaps behind us and pressed a kiss on my shoulder.

The sun was setting, and his hands fiddled with the edge of my pants. “Chose here on purpose. Don’t be afraid to make some noise.” He spoke sweetly, his large hands moving to remove my pants and bloomers, folding them neatly to the side before he unbuttoned my shirt. 

He then pulled at his own shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side, before dipping his head down and pressing a kiss onto my stomach. “Tell me you missed me. You missed this.”

“I missed you.” I moaned out as his lips pressed a firm kiss on my clit before leaving a light suckle, then running his tongue up the length.

His soft eyes watched me carefully as he slowly buried himself deeper into me, his nose brushing against my clit until he’d move up and swirl his tongue around it, taking it between his lips and moaning as he sucked, wet sounds filling the air, and then letting it pop loudly.

He let a low chuckle at the pink tint covering my face and he hunched over, his head dipping lower and part of his hair covering his eyes. “Smother me.” He groaned, his hands dug into the plush flesh of my thighs, pulling me closer to him.

I gave a light tug onto his hair, writhing under him and my fingers closed tight with his locks trapped within my fist. “Charles—” I whined, pulling him away from me for just a moment.

“What can your bear do for you, bunny?”

I dug my feet into his back with a strained whine. “Fingers, please.”

“Aw, that’s it.” He cooed. “You just want your tight pussy stretched out.” He smiled, not faltering his movements as his two large digits rubbed against the entrance.

He started sucking on my clit again harshly, and slowly pushing his fingers in. I sobbed against my palm, muffling the sound. “Don’t.” He growled. He reached up, taking my hand away and after carefully untangling my hand from his hair, he pinned my wrists together under my sternum, my elbows digging into the bedroll.

He listened to the symphony of moans that fell from my mouth at his movements, intentionally making it agonisingly slow until he reached the hilt.

His movements began slow and steady, a gracious pace while his tongue swirled against the bundle of nerves. “Sweet girl.” He groaned to himself, pushing the pads of his fingers to the perfect spot that made me clench around him.

“Charles, I’m—“ And he pulled away, placing one last kiss on my stomach before crawling up my body, his fingers still working to stretch me apart for him.

“I know, I know.” He purred to my whines of protest, the sudden lack of stimulation causing me to spasm around him.

I threw my head back against the bedroll, squirming against his hands for friction and earning a small, pitied smile in return. 

He leant closer, his lips ghosting mine. “Taste yourself.” He waited for me to lean forward, pressing his against mine, and he was smiling into the kiss at the sounds of my moans. 

His hand left my wrists, and wrapped around my throat loosely, holding me in place as his other quickened, going at an inhumane pace. My eyes rolled back as I struggled to keep kissing him. 

He groaned, not relenting on its speed. “Fastest way to stretch you out, yeah?” He teased, sounding incredibly smug at the desperation. “You sound so pretty.”

“Charles—!” I sobbed into his mouth, my hands grabbing onto him, my fingernails threatening to break his skin.

“You’re a needy girl, beg me to split you apart on my dick.” His soft smile never faltered despite the sweetness not being in his words. His kiss stayed tender as he waited for the fog to lift and for words to spill from my lips.

“Please.” I managed out once I could see through the haze. “Oh my god, please. Charles, need you. Need you to split me open.”

He let out a pleased hum, enjoying the way the words caught in my throat at the brutal pace he’d set. His hands slowed gradually before pulling out completely. “You’re my good bunny. So good at begging.” He cooed, removing his pants gradually, kicking them off and wrapping his slick fingers around the length.

I whined, squirming under his touch as he rubbed the tip up and down the folds. “Please, give it to me.” 

“You love how big I am, yeah? How small you are compared to me?” He commented, rubbing his head up and down a few more times before slowly pushing in until he felt resistance. “How I can only— Fuck, get so far in at first before it starts to hurt you.” His voice was a low growl as he slowly began to thrust what he could. “Always gotta stretch you out more ‘till I fit.”

His thrusts were shallow and slow, and he let out short groans, his face scrunching up occasionally as he tried to restrain himself from bullying himself into the small space. 

The wet sounds that filled the tent only beckoned the various moans from both of us to become louder and filthier, causing my ears to perk up. “You.. You’re sure no one’s gonna— fuck— hear us?”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “We’re miles away from a town. There’s no chance anyone will come here.”

“What if they ride past the road?”

“They’ll only see a tent. I made sure. They won’t hear a thing. ‘Nd baby, you’re clenching around me too much, can’t fuckin’ move.” He hissed, his palm soothingly running up and down my thigh. “Just trust me and calm down. It’s in no one’s business to come up to us.”

“What if they try to rob us?”

“Then they won’t be alive much longer.” He spoke sternly, his other hand cupping my face. “Take a breath ‘n’relax f’me.”

I took a sharp inhale, sucking the air into my lungs as I tried to untense my muscles. He sighed softly, squeezing my thigh and nodding reassuringly as he continued his ministrations.

“That’a girl, let me just fuck those thoughts out of your head.”

He moved my legs to wrap tightly around his torso, hooking my fit together as they dug into his lower back, pulling him closer to me though he was met with resistance when he didn’t fit just yet. He let out a guttural groan and I winced at the intrusion. His fat head pressing against the deepest part of my walls, threatening to push deeper into my guts, tearing me in half. 

“You don’t have to worry about anything.” He crooned, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. A mewl crawled out of my throat, a choked cry of pleasure. “Shh, that’s it, all wound up. Unwind.” He took a handful of my hair, making a messy ponytail in his fingers, tugging back my hair slightly to display my neck to him.

Gentle kisses were littered on my throat and chest as he was grinding his hips into mine, trying to push himself deeper. “Charles, it’s too much.” I struggled against his sheer size. The humiliating lingering thought of someone overhearing filled my senses as he filled my tightness.

“Ah, just open up for me, bunny.” He whispered with feverish need, reassuring me gently as my heels dug sharply into his thighs. I moaned, wanting to cover my mouth again but he caught my hand before I could, a short glare of daggers that said ‘don’t’ filled the air and I closed my eyes tight, my eyes half-lidded and glancing down at him.

His strong chest held me down, pinning me to the bedroll. His movements slow and careful as he was grinding himself into me with short thrusts. It chased little pleasure besides the feeling of fullness, the warmth taking him wholly and perfectly.

“Always so surprised by how you take me so well.” He praised sweetly, his words lingered as he eased me open, still kissing and lapping at the skin in front of his eyes. “You’re doing so—” He choked on his words briefly as he finally pushed to his hilt, a short groan leaving his lips as his eyes forcibly fell shut. “—So fucking good, sweetheart.”

I let out a short yelp of surprise, before it subdued into moans. He continued grinding into me slowly, letting me clench helplessly around him. His scratchy, well groomed pubic hair brushed against my clit and his muscles tensed as he watched me carefully.

“Oh my fucking god.” I cried out, my body arching up into him. His mouth grazed across my chest. He watched carefully, his eyes drinking in every detail of the scene, before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples, earning another strangled moan. “Ah, Charles—”

“No. What’d I say?” He interjected. “No thoughts. No thinking. All you have to do is lay back, relax and take it.” His slowly began to move more, sliding in and out at an everlasting slow pace, letting the largeness consume my thoughts as I felt every aching inch of him fill my pulsing walls.

My head was clouded and fuzzy as all the stress melted away. “I want more.” I whispered, pleadingly. “Please.” I added as an afterthought. “Please, bear.”

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby.” He groaned in response, the ball of his palm pressing into the bulge through my stomach. His hips snapping into place, enough to make my tits bounce in place. “Such a good bunny, hm? All tight ‘n’warm for her big bear.” His words bordered on animalistic grunts.

“All f’you.”

“That’s right, all for me.” He nodded, pressing his lips against mine quickly. “What do you need to cum?” He asked tentatively. His hips moved, a gracious but deep pace, his body itching to go brutally with sharp movements, to press his head against my cervix harshly and fill it without a second thought.

My eyes blinked at him, bleary as I squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck me deeper.” I rasped out.

“Deeper?” He laughed, his thick digits reaching down to my middle. He rolled his neck hesitantly before abiding. He pulled away, his chest no longer pressed against mine and he took in the view of a heaving chest, arching upwards.

“Mhm, more.” I nodded blankly. His hips moved, dragging himself from the slickness and harshly bullying himself back to the hilt, moving his hips to attempt to move his tip deeper into the heat.

“Unwind.” He repeated softer, keeping the punishing pace as shameful sounds filled the tents air. “Y’re so wound up, baby, relax and you’ll cum like that.” He commented with a figurative click of the fingers.

I whined incessantly, nearing closer to the edge. “Can’t.”

“You can.” A smile spread across his lips but his eyebrows knitted. “I want you to.” He continued, his voice gentle, unintended to come across as any form of pressure. “There’s no expectations for you here. I will do what you want.”

My words caught in my throat once again, and his hand ran over my torso, squeezing my breast before pinching at the nipple. “You wanna sit on my face? I’ll eat you up ‘til you’re creamin’ all over me.” He whispered, trying to beckon some form of command from me. “You wanna ride me? I’ll get the saddle all ready for you. Whatever it takes.”

“This’s good — don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep fuckin’ you like this.” He reassured with a hiss, his movements faltering. He let out a brief huff of amusement, taking in every detail he could. “You’re right there, bunny.”

“So close.” I croaked out, pleading with him.

“Haven’t fucked those thoughts out yet though.” He spoke quietly, a short hum and a sharp slap to my thighs. “People just ask so much from you, but you’re away.” He spoke the obvious, I wasn’t at camp currently, though I was still tense and acting like I was.

My thighs flinched at the contact, a slight sting and the flesh turning into a pink handprint. I whimpered, a good sign to his ears, my fingers grasping onto his shoulders and pulling him closer however he stayed still as a statue. His hands were occupied, one circling my clit and the other pinching and squeezing at my chest.

“What else do you need?” His words of affirmation melted away as his own orgasm approached. “Let me get you there.”

“Cum in me.” I blurted out, the first words that came to mind when I pleaded with myself to figure out what would work. I tightened my legs around him to prove a point, and he hissed, trying to pull away briefly to test my strength.

“Yeah?” He leant over me, his hand leaving my breast to hold himself up as he had a reborn vigour, using his knees to push my hips into position, moving it so he could hit deeper, his tip nudging against the cervix. “Want me to fill you up?”

I nodded, and his ragged breathing paused as he took in the utter desperation in my eyes. “You need this, bunny.” He nodded in understanding. “You deserve it.”

His thrusts staggered, short gasps and grunts leaving him. He put his sentences behind him, his eyes threatening to close each time he felt himself brush against the spongy opening to the womb, a shooting pleasure each time he did.

“Gonna cum.” He rasped out. “Y’gonna cum with me.” It wasn’t a question in the slightest, though I nodded in agreement, trying to itch myself closer. My hand met his, and I pushed his hand to move faster.

I gasped, a silent squeal leaving my throat. “Don’t stop.” I pleaded. Another choked cry, I pressed myself up to meet his chest again, my hand digging into his shoulder, pulling his body closer to mine.

My eyes squeezed shut as I clamped down on him. “That’s it, right there.” He crooned with a shaking voice, “Good breeding bunny.” He hissed with a sharp inhale, feeling the spasm around him.

“For the love of god, don’t you dare—”

“I won’t stop, bun, go on. Cum all over me. Squeeze my cock dry.” He whispered carefully, his hot breath on my face. His breathing was ragged, his hips continued to stutter. 

He held my hips firmly, angling the waist. He pushed against my cervix once again, his cock twitching with low groans. He twitched, a pornographic moan falling from his lips before he could give a warning as he pressed a rough kiss onto my mouth — messy and wet, lips clashing together as his movements slowed down, grinding harshly in place as he weakly spurted cum with guttural groans.

“‘M not done yet.” I managed to choke out.

He nodded blankly, a glazed over look in his eyes as he continued his movements through our orgasms, his overstimulation beginning to sting, but he ached for my pleasure. His cum threatened to seep out of me, coating his length and our thighs, his weak thrusts trying to push the cum further inside. “That’s a good cocksleeve, take it, bunny.” 

I slumped down limply, pushing myself up onto my elbows and he pressed a kiss onto my temple, nuzzling the sweat-slicked hair out of my face, I panted lightly and he had a low groan, still grinding his hips idly. 

My eyes were hazy, I watched him with a lop-sided grin. “Thank you, bear.” I hummed.

“Course, sweet bunny girl.” He pressed another kiss onto my temple. “Gotta make sure you’re taken care of, hm?”

I gave a short laugh, a kind smile of adoration. “Appreciate you.” I spoke quietly, yearning for the closeness between us. “Y’re too good f’me.”

“Wanna keep my cock in you?” He whispered, scooping me up in his large hands, and laying on his side, keeping me close. “Keep all that cum in place.” A low hum, his face buried into my neck, a deep inhale of my scent.

“Y’gonna fall asleep?” I murmured.

“Mhm, I’ll only ever rest when you’re sated.”

[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

[tonberry-yoda]

hii, loved ur zuko x reader post, it made the zuko simp out of me rise ✨️

I was wondering if u could write a zuko x fire bender! reader where they re together in the gaang and talk with the rest about how they would train together on the ship back when zuko was obsessed w catching aang and reader making fun of him along with sokka and toph,

thank you <3

OMG HI!! i am so glad you were here for that zuko writing and here for a request!! seriously, rewatching Avatar made my inner simp come out bruh (also, i love your pfp so much monster high was my CHILDHOOD lmfaoo). thank you so much for the request! this was super fun to write and i am so happy i got to write it for you <3 have a wonderful rest of your day and please stay hydrated <333

The Past - Zuko

Pairing - Zuko x reader

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 663

“Remember when you were bald?” You said through a cough, giving Zuko a sideways glance with a little smirk on your face.

“Oh come on!” Zuko exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “What the heck did I ever do to you, y/n? Stop making fun of my bald self.” He crossed his arms and pouted and you just giggled to yourself as Toph and Sokka were holding back laughter.

“You have to admit it’s a little funny, Zuko.”

“It’s not!”

You walked over to Zuko and put your arm around him. “Okay, okay, it’s not that funny.”

“Thank you!” Zuko turned away from you still pouting and the campfire you were around with the others went silent.

Until you spoke up, of course.

“Remember when all you wanted to do was capture the Avatar.” Everyone started laughing and Zuko’s face went as red as a tomato. It definitely didn't help that Aang, you know, the literal Avatar, was sitting right there.

Sure, Zuko was happy that the gaang took him in, but it was definitely a little embarrassing that he had once made it his whole life and every waking moment to capture him.

“I have to capture the Avatar and restore my honor.” You said in a mocking dramatic voice.

Sokka and Toph were completely out of breath laughing while Aang and Katara were trying not to laugh in respect of Zuko.

“Okay, y/n.” Zuko turned to you, his face flushing a dark crimson. “I'm serious. Stop.”

“Zuko,” you walked over to him and tucked his long hair behind his ear. “You know I'm just playing. Sure, capturing the Avatar was definitely number one on your list, but you were still just a kid.” You rubbed his arm and Zuko smiled at you.

Zuko didn't know if he could live without you or his uncle. You were both there for him through thick and thin since he was banished from the fire nation. Heck, you even decided to go back to the fire nation with him after that awful crisis in Ba Sing Se. No matter what, you were always there for him.

“Remember when we would train on the boat?” You smiled.

Everyone turned to the both of you, intrigued.

You just smiled and hugged Zuko’s arm. “You’ve always had the potential to be a great fire bender. Who cares if your sister was some prodigy since she was born? You've always put in the work, making you that much better.”

“Stop,” Zuko said with a bright red face, hugging you to him. “If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be as good as I am.”

“Oh, come on, Zuko! I'm not that good.”

“YES YOU ARE!” You laughed at Zuko’s sudden outburst.

“Yeah, y/n!” Aang butt in, beaming at you. “You’re not only one of the best fire benders I’ve ever met, but also the nicest. No offense Zuko.”

“None taken.”

“You guys are a riot.” You said with a joking eye roll, standing up to stretch your legs.

Zuko stood up with you and wrapped his arm around you, looking at the full moon.

“You know,” Aang said, standing up and walking over to the two of you. “If it wasn't for the both of you hating my guts for that period of time, I honestly don't think that I would have any firebending teacher.”

You and Zuko smiled at Aang, pulling him in for a little group hug. Aang smiled and ran back to the rest of the group and you turned to Zuko and pulled him into his own hug, kissing the crook of his neck. “I'm so proud of you.” You whispered and looked at his bright yellow eyes with small tears of your own.

“I'm proud of you too.” He leaned down to you and gave you a small, but loving kiss on the lips before the two of you cuddled in each other’s arms, watching the clouds cover the moon.

~~~~~

atla masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

[astarionancuntnin]

Undisclosed Desires (Chapter 3 - Ending)

summary: back at your camp, your companions celebrate your findings of the day, concluding this quest. you realize your feelings for the vampire might be more serious than you previously thought, and with the courage the wine gives you, you take a step to do something about it

rating: E

word count: 2.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, sorceress tav)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with no plot, denial of feelings gets resolved, porn with feelings, alcohol induced sex, overstimulation, mating press, act 1 astarion might take advantage of tav's vulnerability but we're assuming that he's also already falling for her, possessive sex, creampie, reader admits her feelings, soft ending

a/n: FINAL CHAPTER i never expected to get there when writing the first chapter but i got really invested in the relationship of astarion and how i wrote reader!tav in this one. thanks for all your comments and feedback, and most of all thank you for reading along! <3

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or keep reading down below ~

You trick your lovers

That you're wicked and divine

You may be a sinner

But your innocence is mine

-

With the lack of visibility from within the dungeon, you never realized how much time you had actually spent down there. It’s only once outside that you realize how long it’s been, with the sun currently setting. Once you finally reach your camp, dusk has fallen and you spot the campfire already lit, with some of your companions surrounding it. Shadowheart spots you as you emerge from the forest path with Astarion, visibly tired, and bolts towards you, taking you in a strong embrace.

“Oh, thank the Gods you’re alright,” she pulls back, grabbing you strongly by your arms and stares right into your eyes, her worry turning into annoyance. “Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you?! We were expecting you to be back hours ago!”

You smile softly, “I’m okay, really, we just… got into a predicament of sorts. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.” Before letting your friend’s mind wander too far, you pull out the artifact from your bag. “But,” you raise your voice to get the attention of the rest of your companions watching from afar, as you hold the artifact high and wave it to them. “We found the missing piece!”

“Fuck yeah, soldier!” Karlach shouts from her bedroll. “We gotta celebrate!”

Everyone else eagerly agrees and in a matter of minutes, you’re all drinking, laughing, shouting, and dancing around the camp. Except Karlach, of course, her leg still healing from that awful trap she walked in, but she is just as joyful as the rest of you and drinks along, laying on her bedroll in the middle of the camp. She wouldn’t allow a mere injury to keep her from enjoying her friends’ company. 

As the night settles down and some of your companions head to bed, you’re joined by the cleric, sitting down around the fire.

“So, you and Astarion, huh?”

“Ugh, pleaaaase, it only happened once,” you let your head fall between your hands.

“Really? Because judging by the state you arrived in and the new bite on your neck, I would think that–”

“OKAY fine,” you interrupt her. “...twice.” She gives you a playful look. “But it just, sorta happened you know? I swear I didn’t plan this!”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t.” She laughs. “I’m just surprised I guess, I didn’t take him for your type.”

“He’s really not!”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” she grins at you.

“I… I don’t even know myself,” your voice softens.

Your vision falls on Astarion who is standing by himself, far from the party, indulging in a bottle of wine by the side of the lake. You keep observing him as Shadowheart continues to talk.

“Don’t you think you deserve to know?”

You sigh. “I was sure I hated him. I probably did at some point. He’s so snobby and pretentious and arrogant and– Gods, he’s everything I despise in a person!”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I thought the same thing about you when we first met?”

“Well, first of all, rude,” she laughs before you continue. “Second of all… not really, but it wouldn’t surprise me. That’s how people have always seen me. For years, I lived with the fact that I was unlikeable and unapproachable. I never managed to connect with people. I was convinced there was something wrong with me ever since I can remember. I was never able to fit in. But when I’m with him I’m… happy, somehow. Happier than I’ve been for years. For so long, I thought I would never feel any type of attachment to anyone, that I was practically doomed to live alone for the rest of my days. When I’m with him, I forget about all of this. I don’t know how to deal with that.”

You pause and she notices who you’ve been staring at all along. “Have you told him that?”You quickly snap back to her. “Are you insane?! Of course not!” You cross your arms over your chest, frowning.

“Maybe it would be worth giving it a try?” Her tone is soft and caring. For someone who hadn’t known you for that long, she seemed to understand you intimately.

Her question makes you wonder. A part of you wants to see where this would go, it’s true; you were curious about the possible outcome of this relationship. You had made peace with the fact that you would live on your own forever. You were always seen by others as a cold, ruthless sorceress. It wasn’t your fault your powers were stronger than the rest of your kind, but nonetheless, it put you aside from the rest. That, and the only other relationship you had had scarred you from its abuse; you didn't think yourself as someone worth loving, broken by her past, tainted by the only other man she got close to. Traveling with this group of weirdos is the most proximity you’ve had with people for years; a lot of these experiences with people are very new to you. You take one more sip of wine, your last resort to deal with those feelings.

Shadowheart takes your silence as an answer. “You know, you deserve happiness just as much as the rest of us,” she gets up and pats your shoulder. “You should at least consider it,” she says, before leaving for her tent.

You stay there for a few moments, pondering about what she just told you. You take a deep breath and get up to walk towards the lonely pale elf with your wine-induced courage. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Hey,” you approach him awkwardly.

“Well hello there,” he turns to you, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“Just wanted to see how you were faring, after today. Everyone’s enjoying the night, some people are even heading to bed, but I didn’t see you mingling with the others.”

“Oh darling, I’m doing just great on my own,” he gestures with the bottle of wine in hand. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” 

“Of course you do.” you roll your eyes. “Well, good. I’m glad.”

There’s a silence shared between the two of you then. You get this strong feeling in your chest that you need to express and yet, you just can’t bring yourself to say it. Everytime you part your lips to say it, the words get stuck in your throat. Maybe you’re not drunk enough to go on about your unspoken feelings. Maybe some things are simply better left unsaid, after all. You sigh and shake your head, abandoning your initial intentions.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to bother you any more than I already have,” you give him a soft smile. “Have a good night, Astarion,” as you turn to walk away, your smile disappears, leaving only disappointment. It quickly turns into surprise when you feel Astarion swiftly grabbing you by your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Wait,” he says. Your eyes meet and you notice a change in his expression, his eyes soften. “I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me, is there?”

“It’s nothing!” You force a smile. “We had a big day, I’m just tired and you must be too, I suppose, I wouldn’t want to keep you from resting,” your eyes fall to the ground, avoiding his glare.

He takes a step towards you, closing the short distance.

“You don’t need to go,” his voice is deeper.

“Listen, you really don’t have to do this, we slept together and it was great and it can just stay like that, there’s no need–”

He lifts your chin up to face him and you stop rambling instantly. You feel your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes locking with his.

“Tell me, what would you do if I kissed you, right now?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes flutter open, your breath catching in your throat, “I would kiss you back.”

His eyes fall on your lips and you close your eyes as he lifts your chin higher and your lips collide. He kisses you with a tenderness you never would have imagined, with one hand holding your waist closer and the other moving from your chin to your cheek. You feel as if your heart is going to explode ; you kissed him before, but it was nothing like that. At this moment, time stopped, just for the two of you.

He parts from you carefully, remaining close. Your eyes open up to find him looking at you with his eyes darkened with lust. Given how you felt your breathing quickening and your face burning, you must’ve been looking at him with the same intensity. Finally, you speak up.

“Do you… wanna share my tent tonight?”

He smiles with half-lidded eyes. “I thought you would never ask.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins giving you the courage, but you find yourself kissing him back eagerly, getting lost in his embrace, and it takes everything in you to actually make it back to your tent with Astarion. The second you’re inside, you’re both removing each other’s clothing, recklessly throwing them away. You drunkenly stumble on your back and try to suppress your laughter before Astarion is over you, kissing you again. First your lips, then your neck, and your chest, down to your navel, and the mount between your legs.

Each kiss from him has you moaning so easily, as if he played you like an instrument. You don’t make the effort of even trying to suppress the sounds you make, you’ll just blame it on the alcohol tomorrow morning. His touch felt so good against your skin, like a healing balm over each wound from your past. His next kiss over your folds has you arching your back, and he grabs a hold of your legs in response, grounding you down. His breath over your pussy sends a river of chills up your spine and you tightly grab onto your bedroll’s blankets for support.

His tongue slipping between your wet folds makes you cry out instantly, as your core is extremely sensitive to any touch in your condition. You try to buck your hips against his tongue and his hold on you only gets stronger.

“Mhh, don’t you wanna be good for me?” He asks, between your legs.

“Y– yes,” you pant.

“Then stay still for me, love.”

His sweet words combined by his masterful tongue plunging into you make you whimper. He devours you as if you were his first meal in days, lapping at your entrance, drinking you in, tasting everything you have to offer. His nose, carefully placed over your clit, teases your sweet spot and you feel yourself nearing your climax. Sensing your desperation, Astarion loosens his grip on your hips, allowing you more movement. Your hands get lost in his curls, lightly pulling them to guide his face over your sensitive area. The build up in your stomach finally releases and you scream as the wave hits you like electricity throughout your body. Your hands fly to your sides, grabbing onto your bedroll for dear life, with the vampire between your legs ravishing you still. 

You cry out, pleading with him as the feeling becomes overwhelming and he leaves your sex to move back up, lifting your legs up in the process. Your lips meet with his, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You get lost in the feeling, messily kissing him back, only parting slightly to allow yourself to breathe. His hands sneak down to grab your wrists and pin them next to your head before burying himself right into your cunt. 

His thrusts are slow and deep, hitting the back of your hole every time. By now, you’re a panting mess, you’re seeing stars, and the only words leaving your mouth are his name, over and over again, each time more jumbled than the last. 

“I do love the way you say my name,” he murmurs.

“A– Astarion…”

“Just like that,” he purrs. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Astarion…”

“My good girl.”

He pauses between his thrusts, getting stronger and stronger, and making you moan louder and louder. With his last stroke, he dives teeth first into your neck, drinking you in. He drinks from you like a starved man, his pace becoming ruthless. You feel him growl against your neck, his teeth sending a vibration through your skin, before removing his fangs from you. He picks up a punishing pace, drilling into you.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m… yours…” you barely manage to get the words out.

“Go on, be a good girl for me, tell everyone who you belong to.”

His words of praise send you over the edge again, you feel as if your soul was leaving your body, with your back arching into him, your eyes rolling in the back of your head and the air leaving your lungs as you scream out his name. Your cunt squeezes his cock and with a last hit, he releases himself inside of you, growling into your ear as he does so. His thrusts become erratic, filling you with his seed. You’re completely overwhelmed and your body trembles with the sensation. Astarion stays still inside of you, your warmth around his length providing him some sense of security as he comes down from his own high. He lifts his head up carefully, and his hands leave your wrist to hold your face instead, your foreheads barely touching.

You felt like in this instant, you could forget about all the misery you experienced, and with him, you could start anew ; he made you feel whole in so many ways.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

With your head between his hands, he strokes your cheeks tenderly, wiping the tears from your exhausted eyes as you admire each detail in his expression. 

I think I’m in love with you. The words resonate loudly in your head. 

He chuckles softly, “Of course you do. How about we leave the love confessions for when you’re less inebriated, hm?”

Loud enough to leave your lips, it seems. If he didn’t answer, you would’ve believed you only thought about saying those dreaded words.

You hum and feel the weight of the day crash upon you and fatigue taking over you as Astarion holds you close, lulling you to sleep.

—

The next morning you awaken, and you're surprised to find Astarion still wrapped tightly around you.

His skin is warmer than usual, probably a result from sleeping skin to skin with you. After your confession from last night, you were scared he would leave you in the middle of the night, like the first time you slept together. You’re glad to find him still cuddled up next to you. You’re aware elves don’t normally sleep, but he seemed so peaceful, his face was relaxed and you could trace his smile lines next to his lips, and his curly hair slightly falling over his eyes.

Too afraid to end this precious moment, but still wanting to be closer to him, you nudge yourself into his arms, your nose touching his chest. You’re unsure if he’s conscious, but part of you thinks it would be better if he wasn’t. Relishing this moment of comfort with him, you mumble your next words against his chest.

“I’m… not expecting you to say it back, but I meant what I said yesterday. I don’t know where this’ll go, but I know I want to be with you.” 

You feel his arms hold you tighter against him.

You sigh in relief. Whether his movements were intentional, whether he heard you or not, you’re glad to have finally gotten that weight off your chest.

Maybe you can learn to be happy again.

-

I’ve never felt like this before

My heart knew I couldn’t

And then you take me in

And everything in me begins to feel like I belong

Like everybody needs a home

And when I take your hand

Like the world has never held a man

I know I cannot heal the hurt

But I will hold you here forever

If I can, if I can

[kkumawrites]

Here Kitty, Kitty ― Chapter Four CW: food mentions WC: 1.3k

You were sitting in the campus quad, flipping through your chemistry book before class, going over some notes when someone slips into the seat next to you. You furrow your eyebrows and turn to look over, knowing already it was one of the werewolf brothers. He’s already looking at you with a small smirk on his face and all you do is blink at him, questioning why he was suddenly here, sitting next to you. 

“Hey, I’m Junhui. It’s nice to meet you, I think you’ve met some of my brothers?” He asks with a quick flip of his hair and he moves his arm so it’s casually hanging off the bench behind you.

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I could tell. You reek the same as them,” A lie, but he didn’t have to know that. His scent was muskier, a hint of something tangy underneath like citrus and it makes your mouth water for just a second.

You introduce yourself nonchalantly, trying to push down the immediate pull you feel towards him, still vehemently denying the attraction you felt for any of them. Jun scoots a little closer to you and the grip you have on your textbook becomes tighter, your heart beating faster as his scent wraps around you. He still has a smirk on his face and you so badly want to wipe it off his face, preferably with your lips. Wait. No. God damnit, can the pull just leave you alone for ONE second? 

“Why do you look so nervous? Sorry, am I too handsome?” The comment pushes you back to your senses as you roll your eyes at the wolf, closing your textbook and pushing it into your bag before moving to stand up. 

“Careful there, wouldn’t want someone to deflate that ego of yours darling,” A cat-like grin appears on your face as you start to walk away, giving him a small wave goodbye. “See you around, Jun,” The way you say his name sends shivers down his spine and all he can do is watch you walk away with awe.

You:  1 Wolves: 0 ────── 〔✿〕────── 

When you arrive at your chemistry class your headache only grows as you notice the only open seat left is next to yet another brother, one you haven’t met yet. You’re not 100% sure how many there are, but you know that there are far too many of them - never able to escape their scent that’s all over campus, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, you’re not too bothered about it. 

You make your way to your seat, trying to sit as far away from him as possible, totally not checking out the pretty boy with perfect complexion and a stupidly cute smile on his face. Instead you try to keep your focus on the professor even though it’s hard when you know he’s staring straight at you with no shame. He’s got longer hair and honestly, prettier than a lot of the girls you’ve seen around campus - his scent is woodsy and warm, with a hint of something sweet, like roasting smores by a campfire. 

“Alright, I sure hope you like who you’re sitting next to, because they’re gonna be your lab partner for the semester,” Your professor’s monotone voice cuts through the classroom and at his words you let out a small sigh of defeat, turning to face the brother you haven’t met yet. He’s got a smile on his face, though it’s definitely more of a smirk, one that’s similar to the one on the brother you met earlier. 

“I’m Jeonghan. We haven’t been properly introduced,” He holds out his hand for you which you reluctantly take, ignoring the electricity that shoots down your spine at just a simple touch. 

You introduce yourself, adding on a quick “but I have a strange feeling that you already knew that,” at the end of your sentence. He responds with a small chuckle, the smirk on his face morphs into a more shy smile that you can’t help but think suited him much more. 

“Oops, caught red handed,” 

“Behave yourself, I don’t need your alpha getting mad at me again,” You shudder at the thought, really not wanting to even think about getting scolded by Seungcheol again - not sure if you’d survive another confrontation with the angry wolf. 

“Ah, don’t worry about cheol, he’s a little uptight,” 

Still, you grimace at the thought of being the source of his anger - not 100% sure why he even seemed to hate your guts already. Besides you know, perhaps goading him a little with the werewolf comment. 

Yeah, you definitely wanted to avoid Seungcheol at all costs. ────── 〔✿〕────── 

In order to avoid the chaos of the campus cafeteria (and perhaps a few certain werewolves) you had decided to eat outside for a change. A quick cursory glance around the open area, you spot a nice big tree that gives off some nice shade and it’s the perfect spot. When you walk a little closer your nose twitches slightly as you catch the scent of used books and espresso, enticing you further. Although you were supposed to be avoiding the brothers, the male in question seemed much more interested in his book than you, not even looking up when you came closer. So you decide there’s no harm in sitting here as you settle down on the roots of the enormous tree. 

His eyes dart up to meet yours and you can see the small ghost of a smile that makes you want to return the small gesture. You do your best to ignore him and the rising blush that threatens to color your cheeks just from having the attractive male glance in your direction. Surprisingly you’re able to maintain your cool composure as you eat your lunch in silence, scrolling idly on your phone. He takes the hint well, returning his attention back to the book but it still doesn’t stop him from stealing noticeable glances at your figure every once in a while. 

The silence is rather pleasant, a calm, content air between the two of you. His scent was starting to make your brain a little foggy, trying to resist the urge to just scoot a little closer to get a deeper whiff. The atmosphere makes you feel light, ready to get through the rest of your classes with little to no more annoyances.

It doesn’t last long when Mingyu insists on walking you home for no reason, following you around like a lost puppy. You definitely were not imagining the taller male with a wagging tail behind him as he trailed after you. You already knew Mingyu’s goal was to get more information out of you, but you expertly dodged questions and gave him vague answers that had him pouting and honestly more confused than he already was. 

When he had returned to the pack house, Seungcheol was less than pleased with his brother who continued to disobey his rules, having easily smelled you on the taller the moment he walked through the door. Seungcheol knew it was pointless though to scold the younger, who wasn’t even paying any attention to his alpha. Defeated, he had excused Mingyu (who immediately ran up to his room) and turned his attention to the window.

He could see Joshua sitting under the big tree in the front yard, something the calmer wolf enjoyed doing, so that in itself wasn’t unusual. What was strange was that he was currently sitting with a cat in his lap, a pristine white collar around its neck that contrasted starkly to its shiny black fur. Seungcheol could not think of a single time ANY of his brothers had shown any interest in cats, considering their dog-like nature.

He could feel the signs of a budding headache building in his temple, fingers coming to soothe at the tense skin of his forehead. 

What on earth was going on with his brothers?

[breannasfluff]

Warriors never thought he’d connect with Wild over memory loss, yet here he was. The two heroes sit next to each other, listening to the other's trade stories around the campfire. 

“I remember going on a camping trip with my Uncle,” Legend says, sprawled alongside Hyrule. The traveler is asleep on his shoulder and Ledge has an arm wrapped around him. “Oh man, we burnt the heck out of dinner over the fire.”

“I remember when I was learning blacksmithing,” Four says, “I thought I could use the bellows to clean up faster.” He snorts at the memory. “I was cleaning dust for weeks; I made such a mess.”

Wind bounces from his seat on a log. “This one time, when I was seven, Grandma took me on a surprise trip to one of the nearby islands. She let me explore the whole thing and then cooked my favorite meal.”

“Speaking of meals,” Twilight says, “I remember when Rusl tried to bake me a birthday cake on his own. It was awful, but as a kid, it didn’t matter. It’s the fact that he cared, ya know?”

The others hum and nod. 

“What about you, Wars? Got some good childhood memories?”

The captain gives a brittle smile. “Oh, you know, nothing exciting.”

“Come on!” Wind rolls his eyes and flops backward. “You’ve got to have some good stories. What about a birthday?” 

He shakes his head again, ignoring the low panic in his chest. “What about you, old man?”

Time gives him a hard look, but accepts the subject change. “Well, the Great Deku Tree might not be as mobile as Wind’s Grandma, but one time…”

The stories continue, but Warriors tunes them out. He’s stuck on the same topic, twisting and turning the idea of childhood over and over. Wild glances at him a few times, but also stays silent. At least he has a good excuse. 

Read the rest here!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Catch Fire

Prompt Day 6: Cooking | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: None | Tags: Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, First Home, Cooking Mishaps

"Why was there a fire truck pulling out of our driveway when I got home?" Steve asks, putting his gym bag down on the floor next to the couch. It smells awful in their house right now. Like the remnants of a campfire, all charred and heavy, hanging in the air.

And if he's not mistaken, he's pretty sure it's a little cloudy. Steve opens the window over the sink, and then the front door, just trying to get some air circulating through the house.

"There was a fire truck outside? I didn't see a fire truck," Eddie says sitting on the floor, arms deep in the oven.

"Oh, really? That's an interesting place for them to turn around then," Steve replies, pretending he's not seeing whatever the fuck is happening right in front of him. 

"Totally weird," Eddie says, still scrubbing. "We should complain to the city. Using our private property to turn around? Unacceptable."

Steve smiles, and watches, just waiting to see if Eddie's gonna cave and confess to whatever the fuck he did this time, without Steve asking. He doesn't, and Steve gets impatient.

"You caught the oven on fire, huh?" Steve finally asks, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and planting his ass on the bar stool. He's gonna watch this play out.

"I resent that accusation!" Eddie yells, his voice muffled, since his head is quite literally in the oven right now.

"But it's true, right?" Steve asks, and Eddie's laugh echoes throughout the room, coming from inside the oven.

"Maybe, just a little fire," Eddie says, "more smoke than anything else."

"Are you okay?" Steve asks.

"Embarrassed, but okay," Eddie admits, finally looking at Steve, "I thought I could make s'mores in the oven. Turns out, and really, who could have guessed this, marshmallows can really burn if they fall and hit the coils."

"Nobody ever could have predicted that. Not with how they catch fire, and all," Steve says. 

Eddie laughs.

"How did you lose a marshmallow in the oven?" Steve asks, because he's not sure how this went so awry. It's Eddie, minor disasters follow him like an old friend, but still. This is something, even for Eddie.

"I put the graham crackers right on the rack, because I didn't want to clean melted marshmallow goop off the cookie sheet. Again."

Steve taps his temple, sarcastically, "Smart. Instead you're cleaning out the bottom of the oven, I take it?"

"What didn't burn off and smoke up the whole house, yes, yes, I am," Eddie admits.

Steve laughs, and gets down on the floor next to Eddie, leaning back on his haunches, "Need some help?"

He doesn't want to scrub charred marshmallow off the bottom of their oven. But he'd do it. For Eddie. He's learned that over the last few years. He'll do anything for Eddie. Anything at all. 

"Always," Eddie says, but instead of handing him the scrub brush, Eddie is leaning forward to kiss Steve. Once, twice, until he's pushed Steve flat on his back on the linoleum, mess long forgotten.

That's not what Steve meant, but this will definitely do just fine.

Steve presses his body to Eddie's, happy to be home and touching him. They don't get a whole lot of time home together these days. Eddie works nights more often than not, and Steve has been pulling in extra shifts, and wants to go to the gym at least three times a week. 

Eddie doesn't understand that impulse, not at all, but Steve appreciates that Eddie encourages him to do whatever makes him happy.

It's taken a while to get on their feet. Life wasn't easy to return to, after everything that happened in Hawkins. But as soon as the dust cleared, and the kids had graduated and spread their wings and flew away, Steve had taken Eddie, and Robin, and they'd left town. 

There was nothing left there, anyway. So they packed up, and decided to start anew. From scratch, together. Starting out in a shitty, little apartment with one bedroom. The three of them crammed in, with no privacy. 

But it was great, and helped them start to build new lives. To just be who they are, without any preconceived notions coming their way. 

They worked, and scraped, and clawed their way into better lives.

Now, Robin's in school, and Steve's so proud of her. She's gonna be pissed when she comes home and smells the house, though. She's still in the spare room, and Steve wouldn't have it any other way. These two are his family. 

She might not stay with them forever, but they decided to put down roots, and bought this house. It's not huge, but it's nice, and it's their home.

They're doing fine, but this house isn't going to pay itself off. So, he misses Eddie.

Steve flips them over, and presses his dick against Eddie's. Eddie squirms underneath him, and that always gets Steve going. The reaction Eddie has to them touching in any way. It's the hottest thing.

With that in mind, Steve leans down and kisses Eddie again, before burying his face in Eddie's neck, just laying on him, touching in every place possible. 

"You stink," Eddie finally says.

"Well, I was gonna say the same thing about you," Steve answers with a laugh, pulling his head back to look at Eddie.

He doesn't care though, not really. He'd still want to touch Eddie, even if he does smell a little bit like burning right this second. 

"Wanna take a shower together? Conserve water. Save the planet and shit," Eddie asks, giving him the eyes. 

Those eyes have always been his downfall, and Eddie damn well knows it.

"Okay, I guess we can do that," Steve says, pretending like this is something he's conceding to, and not something that he really wants. 

They get up, and Steve leaves the window open, but closes the front door, and lets Eddie lead the way to the bathroom. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[starrylevi]

Hi! Love your writing sm ❤️! Can a request an established relationship Levi x reader fic where the reader and Levi grew up together in the underground and the reader tells his squad (the new one) embarrassing stories from when Levi was a kid? He overhears and gets rlly embarrassed and pissed 💀 and the squad can’t stop laughing at him. Tysmmmm!!

Hi!! You’re so sweet, thank you! I tried my best with this. I don’t have much imagination so I basically repurposed the clown scene in Marley 😅 I hope it’s not completely terrible.

🌲

“Can you tell us another one? Please please please.” Connie begs on his knees in front of you, hands clasped together in a prayer.

You let out a small chuckle before looking back over your shoulder in search for any sign of the Captain. “Hm…I don’t know, he’ll be getting back soon.” You say as you look back at the cadets sitting around the campfire with you.

“Aw come on, we have at least five more minutes before he gets back.” Jean pipes up.

“Guys, don’t pressure her! We don’t want the captain to get angry.” Armin tries to reason with them, his face flushed with concern.

Your eyes scan over all the cadet’s faces, most of them wearing a pleading expression. You stare at them, straight faced for a few seconds before you relent with a small smile. “Okay, just one more.”

In a moment of excitement, Jean and Eren high five each other.

“Okay, so we were around 10 years old when this happened. The adults were nice enough to hold a small event for the kids in the underground. I was really excited. Captain Levi, of course wasn’t too bothered to go but I forced him.” You let out a small chuckle before you continue.

“When we got there, there was a man surrounded by a big group of kids, all around 5 or 6 years old, asking for their choice of balloon animal.”

This is it?” Levi commented with a scoff as his eyes landed on the man. “This looks creepy as hell.”

“I just want to see what kind of animals he’s making and then we can go.” You tugged on his arm and Levi reluctantly followed you with a roll of his eyes.

As you two got closer, you heard the man looking for volunteers, his eyes scanning over the crowd of children.

“Stop, don’t tell me he picked on Captain Levi.” Sasha mumbles around a slim jim, disbelief in her voice.

The man indeed spotted Levi and approached him with a smile. “Well, aren’t you a cute little fella. Would you like a balloon animal?” The man asked with a gleeful grin.

Levi narrowed his eyes, pouting. The action made him seem more endearing to the man. “Look at those cheeks!”

The man goes to pinch the rounded skin when Levi flinches away from him. “Get away, asshole!”

“Oh, looks like someone has a potty mouth.”The man frowned.

“No way, he really thought the captain was a six year old?” Eren asked you.

“Of course they did, have you seen him?” Jean remarked before everyone busted out laughing though the joy quickly dies down.

“y/n, a word please?” You hear the sound of your boyfriend’s voice and see all the cadets briefly frozen in fear.

“Oops.” You whisper to yourself before slowly getting up and walking over to Levi, meeting his steely stare with a guilty look on your face.

“Why in the hell you tell them that?” He whispers harshly, pint tinting his cheeks as you take your place in front of him.

“They wanted to know a little more about our history in the underground. I…thought it would be funny to tell them a couple of stories?” You explain, lightly bitting down on your lower lip.

“Funny, huh?” His eyes narrow at you as he crosses his arms.

“Captain, come on, it’s all in good fun!” Connie cuts in. The others chime in, agreeing with laughter.

“Oi, if you know what’s good for you you’ll shut it!” He barks at the cadets and they all recoil in terror, quieting down but you can still hear some snickering.

You place a hand on one of his crossed arms to comfort him, your thumb stroking the material of his uniform.

“I can’t believe you would tell them that.” He mumbles grumpily.

“I’m sorry, my love.” You say, genuine remorse in your tone.

He stays silent for a second, arms still crossed before he lets out a sigh. “Next time find something more interesting to talk about that isn’t me.”

“Yes, sir.”

[levi-venn]

A Bloody Good Speech (Halsin & Astarion)

Narrator: Astarion returns to camp late. He finds Halsin in cat form, asleep on a pillow beside the crackling campfire. Astarion knows Halsin will sometimes take this form when he's upset...and the last conversation they shared had upset the druid.

Astarion: Halsin, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About finding nature's balance within me to find some peace.

Narrator: Halsin lifts his furry head to regard Astarion who takes a seat beside him.

Astarion: I...bit your head off, so to speak, last we spoke. Called you a fool. Called...myself an abomination of the very definition of nature.

Astarion: But I did think of what you said and...you were right. Nature's balance is not a physical thing, is it? At my core I'm still an elf, a pale and blood-hungry elf, yes, but I haven't lost entirely what I once was. The parasite showed me that, ironically. So instead, perhaps I can find a balance between the devilishly charming, slightly more humble elf I used to be and this bloodthirsty, arrogant beast I am today. I appreciate that I could use some of your humility, your calm. I do find myself calm around you, you know. And admittedly, watching you stand on your own two feet (and sometimes four) so confidently, it is...bloody inspiring.

Halsin: *Purrs*

Astarion: My point is…I apologize for calling you a fool and...I wish to thank you. You’ve been patient with me when I needed it most. I'd...like to make it up to you if I could.

Halsin: *Purrs*

Narrator: Astarion take's Halsin's furry face in his hands and gently presses their foreheads together, finding the purrs to be as equally calming as Halsin's calm breath when he slumbers.

Narrator: Someone stirs in a tent nearby.

Narrator: Halsin, who is, in fact, not a cat, emerges.

Halsin: Astarion! You've returned to camp. I was afraid you wouldn't after our last conversation.

Astarion: …

Narrator: The cat wiggles out of the pale elf's grasp and wanders off, back to the nearby farm where a saucer of milk is waiting for her.

Halsin: …Did…did you think that calico was me?

Astarion: No.

Halsin: …

Astarion: …

Halsin: … :3

Astarion: Well, I’m not repeating myself! You can ask the damn cat if you want a summary of my eloquent speech.

Halsin: Oh. Alright. I am sorry I missed it.

Narrator: Halsin looks out into the night, wondering if he could catch up to the cat in time.

Astarion: ...Ugh...damn you.

Halsin: I'm...sorry, if I've offended-

Astarion: No, no, you big...wonderful bear of an elf. I am sorry. I'm bloody sorry for calling you a fool and running off. If you would like, sit with me, please. Perhaps my second attempt at this speech will be more eloquent this time.

Halsin: Astarion, your eloquence and grace grows with each passing day. I am forever in awe of it.

Astarion: ...

Astarion: <3 ...

Astarion: Ugh, you are infuriatingly wonderful. You know that?

Narrator: With an impish grin, Halsin shifts into a cat form, and pads over to the pillow where the previous feline slept.

Halsin: Alright. I am now ready for your speech. :3

Astarion: Nevermind! I take it all back. You're a cheeky bastard.

Halsin: A cheeky bastard that you enjoy spending time with I hope?

Astarion: Yes...Immensely.

***

Thanks for reading this little tidbit. If you enjoyed my writing, please consider checking out my queer sci-fi murder mystery “Error: Detective Not Found (A Cake Pop Noir)”. You can find more info on it on my main tumblr account @blueberryhelper

[hannahssimblr]

The low, blue light from the tanks is relaxing, meditative, even, and though the aquarium is loud with the sounds of small children rushing about and pointing out fish to one another, it’s still peaceful. Maybe it’s womb-like, I don’t know.

We stare at the turtles for ages and laugh about the description plaque, stating that all of these turtles were donated by families who no longer wanted them as pets when the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle craze passed. 

“They’re a bit like me,” Jen says, “my parents kinda donated me to Michelle’s family when the novelty wore off.”

I don't know if she wants me to laugh, but I don't think it's funny. The smile slips off my face and suddenly these turtles are tragic figures, metaphors for the cruel, shallow nature of humanity. We just toss living creatures aside and flush them down toilets as soon as they are no longer trendy. Usually Jen would be impressed that I had such a liberal thought without first seeing it somewhere on the internet and adopting it as my own opinion, but I can sense it’s not really the right time to start a discussion about consumerism, or whatever. 

“I’m sorry about your mam today,” I say, “I would have expected she’d at least have the decency to say hello.”

Jen pauses for a long moment. I let the silence go on, and am beginning to think she won’t answer at all when she says, “I don’t know what I expected, to be honest.”

“It’s probably normal to expect your own mother to acknowledge you in public.”

“I just wonder if she’s missed me at all in the last two years.”

I don’t know what to say, “...I’m sure she has.”

“I doubt it, to be honest,” She stares dejectedly into the tank, “She’s had a lot of chances to reach out and make up, I just feel like she won’t do it if she hasn’t done it by now. I think that part of me thought she’d care more, I suppose, but then again I’m not really surprised that she doesn’t. She only had kids because people would have thought it was weird if she didn't.”

“Yeah but if she didn't then I wouldn't have a best friend.”

“You'd be best friends with some other loser if I didn’t exist.”

“Well, I'm glad it's you, is all.”

“I just think it’s a pity when… when love is supposed to be, like, unconditional, but it isn’t. You’re meant to love your kids no matter what, so I just think that if you’re going to give up on them as soon as they do, or… or are something that you don’t approve of then why would you have them?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Ugh,” she shoves me lightly and turns to sit on a nearby bench facing another tank of fish, “Obviously I know, I was just saying.”

I join her, “I know, I feel the same way about my parents, sort of.”

“Well, I mean, it’s different too, isn’t it? Because Chris and Colette actually do love you.”

I hesitate, “I think they love what I do for them and all, how convenient it is for me to be around and helping with things at home, but I don't know if that's proper love.”

“That’s probably not everything you are to them, like, yeah, you help your mom out with the parenting thing when your dad refuses to be involved with it and that’s hard, but I don’t think they’d ever kick you out of the house and try to forget you were ever born. They brought you with them, didn’t they? When they moved to Ireland, and they didn't have to do that.”

I wish they didn’t. Sometimes I wish they’d just abandoned me at aunt Maureen’s house and let me grow up like the normal American kid I was on track to be, doing normal American kid things like blissfully finger painting awful, shit butterfly pictures in elementary school and going to summer camps with campfires and raft building activities.

Memories of the desert are lit up in technicolour for me now, so clear that I swear I can still taste the air. It was drier, sweeter than the air here. It smelled different too, carrying some indescribable scent that only snapped back into my consciousness when I visited again two years ago and I've had a hard time not yearning for it since. Everything was beautiful. At the house that I used to call my home I would carry my breakfast out to the terrace, hopping on flagstone scorching already from the sun, and just look at the distant mountains, jagged blue, for ages, while the Rio Grande shimmered like a mirage in the dust land below.

It's because of Ivy that we left, though I still don’t know why my parents thought that bringing another child into the world, on purpose this time, would somehow fix all of the tears in the fabric of their marriage. And what about me? What kind of real, genuine good was lifting me out of the place that was making me so happy? But I know it's too late to waste time wondering, and if I ask them they'll just repeat what they've always said about how raising children would be better in Europe, as if they would even know.

“Yeah,” I say to Jen, “I guess that proves they love me.”

“I know what your problem is,” she says, and I’m curious enough about hearing it summed up that I look at her, the tanks throwing moving shapes and colours across her face, “You’ve just forgotten how to talk to them, like, how to really talk about how you feel, and they’ve forgotten how to do the same with you.”

“Hm.”

“You and I are good at talking, I think. We can talk about anything, even really hard things, even when we get upset about it, so I know you have it in you to do the same with your parents, you just won’t. You’re just too awkward now because you’re used to the way that it is, but I think if you just tried to change your habits then you’d probably find that they’d do the same with you.”

I nod. I don’t really know what she’s saying, but it sounds wise in that oh-so-very Jen way. 

“Maybe your parents want to be close to you too,” she continues, “you really don’t know. Maybe they’re just scared that you’ll push them away, and I know you’re scared of the same thing so you’re all just walking around on eggshells trying very hard not to get hurt.”

“Do you think so?”

“Well, they could have just not had you, but they did. They got married because of you, and they wanted to bring you here with them. They still take you on holidays and buy you school supplies and nice clothes and fancy gifts, and even though you are the worst behaved boy of all time you don't get punished half as harshly as you should. Mine learned I was gay and changed the bloody locks,” she sighs, “You’re a lucky boy, actually, like it or not.”

It's always hard to talk about her parents, not just because they were awful, but the casual way that Jen speaks of the event, like she's just repeating some bland school gossip she heard in the locker room. I know it hurts her. It must. The destruction they have done to her is immeasurable, and Jen has become so good at covering it all up, but I know her better than anybody. She’s vulnerable, sensitive and easily hurt, and even when her face doesn’t show it her eyes do. She knows I can tell, which is probably why she refuses to look at me for several moments and turns her face towards the shark tank to her left. 

As for my parents, maybe she’s right, maybe I don’t know how good I really have it, and if I tried to talk to them more I’d be pleasantly surprised by the things they have to say. There are worse parents than mine, evidently. 

We don’t speak again. I just sit close to her in silence while we watch the fish swim and weave between the rising bubbles in their tanks, fluid, free, mindless, until it is time to catch the DART home again. 

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[haechurch]

Having sex with haechan while michael jackson songs playing in the background? My kinda type of perfect date fr (literally) (oh my goooooood) all friends gathering in a villa for vacation and both of you cant stop being obvious for wanting each other in the first place. Exchanging gazes, eyes locked for a very long time when youre all playing in the living room with everyone literally being there, secretly having many skin ships when its yours and his turn to make dinner; holding hands for a good second, him pecking your lips when no one sees, touching your butt, caressing his cheek, feeding each others dish to make sure its not tastes so awful. "Haechan, that was a fucking five stars shit over there," "its a fucking five stars because we made it." And oh, who doesnt love bonfire, when the night is getting dark and deep, all of you are making yourself warm around the campfire, eating snacks and beers, chit chatting, telling scary stories, playing truth or dare, god, the whole vibe is just so right when you sit facing each other, being parted by the heat in front both of you, his face that illuminated by the fire beneath is so pretty, his eyes are focusing on you giving you the most longing stares, his smirking face that makes you go absolutely fucking crazy, especially when he keeps biting his lower lip; eyes heavy lidded and lashes almost seating heavily on his burned cheeks, oh, that moment you just wanna take him to your room and hug and kiss, and fuck him stupid. When everyone started to scattering into their room leaving the bonfire area, it is finally you and haechan, alone. Fucking finally. "Its so hard to control myself for not just attacking you when i saw you keep pressing your thighs together, princess," "oh? I thought you wouldnt notice, my bad." The sound from the bluetooth speaker starts playing michael jacksons playlist, and when the fire is finally extinguished, you straddle haechans lap and grinding on him, "oh youre not sorry at all." "What do you mean? I am sorry." "And why is that?" He started to caressing your thighs with that fucking smug faces of him ARGHHH hes so fucking hot i can imagining his face rn "i am sorry.. for making you hard?" He tossed his head back, clenching his jaw when you touch his hard on and whisper in his ear, he then exhale harshly while shifted in his seat, making you jolt, "you can just make it up to me pretty girl, now be a good slut and fuck yourself on my cock."

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 17 (Threesome)

Vladimir x Reader x Stefan (NSFW)

(1,233 Words)

Summary: you plan on getting revenge on Vladimir and Stefan, but end up with something way better

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, aftermath of being turned, canon typical violence (bc duh vampires), vlad and stef being sleazy, blowjobs (giving), vlad and stef being gay (a little at the end), fingering, penetrative sex, threesomes (duh)

Notes: I saw these two and KNEW what I had to do LMAO I used to be down bad for the Romanian coven way back in the day (specifically for vlad sorry I’m biased LMAO) and I think myself from two years ago would be proud of me for this one, enjoy the fic!!!

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It all happened so fast. The way they sank their teeth into you, ripping into your flesh. How garbled your screams were as blood filled your throat, coughing it up. You could feel them sucking the blood out of you, growing woozy through the attack. Once it was all said and done, all you could do was lay there, wavering on the verge of death, processing what happened. One blond and one brunet. You’d never forget their faces- their bright red eyes.

But here you are, alive. Or, at least you think you are. You’re alive, but definitely not the same as you were. This time, you’re stronger. Angrier. Thirstier. There was a pit in your stomach, and you don’t know how to fill it. Your hands shake, feeling the indescribable urge to just attack; wanting nothing more than to rip your teeth into the nearest thing you see.

As you run through the forest- looking for anything to sate the adrenaline pumping through you, that is when you finally see them again. Their hair and eyes are unmistakably what you remember. Stopping dead in your tracks, you hide yourself in the tree line, ready to get some answers, or depending on if you could control yourself, ambush them.

They sit there on their logs, around a campfire, completely oblivious to your presence. Dropping from the tree line, you charge toward the blond, putting him in a headlock and pinning him chest first to a tree.

“What the fuck did you two do to me?” You snarl.

“Aw look, Stefan,” the blond laughs, crushed against the tree. “They survived!”

“Impressive strength, for a newborn.” You turn to hear the deep, amused laughter of the man, apparently named Stefan, from behind you. He shoots an entertained look at the blond, who looked at back at him with a smirk that gives you pause.

You quickly come to realize, that they are not afraid of you. Regardless, you stand your ground, keeping a firm grip on the blond.

“You two have five fucking seconds to tell me what happened to me or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kill us?” Stefan speaks up. “You hear that, Vladimir? The newborn thinks they can kill what is already dead!”

You freeze for a moment, confused. You’re completely taken off guard when Vladimir, the blond, breaks free from your grasp. There’s hardly enough time to fight back when you suddenly find yourself the one now pinned against the tree.

Their laughter rings in your ears; clear, low, and almost carnal. That pit in your stomach begins to churn, and not necessarily in a bad way. Vladimir’s body is impossibly close to you, with Stefan making his was beside you. You let out an audible exhale as you feel yourself be pushed further into the wood.

“So much fight…” Whispers Stefan.

“…For such a young thing,” finishes Vladimir. You can feel the back of his hand trail slowly down your cheek.

“You two are fucking sick,” you spit, turning your head away from him. His hand rapid makes its way beside you, dangerously close to your throat.

“We are not sick,” chuckles Vladimir, “it’s just difficult to talk when the one who wants answers is…”

“…Wound so tight?” You can hear Stefan’s voice coming from the other side of your ear. You wonder when and how he made it over to you so quick.

“Exactly,” replies Vladimir. “Which is why…” his hand drags over your throat. His grasp is cold, light, soothing the adrenaline that pumps from within you.

“…You need to relax.” Stefan is now directly at your side. You can feel his breath along the outside of your neck, down to your shoulder. He places a hand on your arm, soothing it down.

It kills you inside to know how much you’re enjoying this. You release some tension, signaling that killing them isn’t the only thing you want anymore. You take a deep breath in, swallowing your pride.

“Try anything, and I’ll rip you apart,” you whisper.

Your consent seems to be enough for them. You can feel Vladimir’s lips first, attacking your lips with fervor. Not far behind, Stefan’s lips make their way to your throat, hungrily, but not like when they drank the blood from you before. Their touch was something different completely. This was carnal.

You let out a soft moan as you feel a hand drop in between your legs, gathering your liquid arousal. Another pair of hands starts feeling you up, leaving no curve or crevice untouched.

“Wow,” Stefan groans softly. “Who new that a newborn would be so…”

“…Easy?” Finishes Vladimir.

The way they spoke in tandem was uncanny, similar to they way they worked together to touch you. Feeling a finger slip inside you, you grip the back of the tree so roughly, you could swear you hear a crack.

“Oh god,” you sigh, “h-holy fuck.” Your legs start to feel like jelly. Hearing the salacious chuckles from in front of you, you can only assume that Vladimir is the one finger fucking the daylights out of you, while Stefan gropes at you.

You can hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling and the sound of pants hitting the floor of the forest. You feel yourself being bent over, gripping to the tree for dear life. You hardly notice that your pants are down to your ankles, feeling the sensation of a stiffened cock teasing your inner thighs.

Looking in front of you, Stefan stands there expectantly. You take down his pants, freeing his length. You grip the shaft, firmly- as a warning. You look up at him dangerously, teasing him with a baring of teeth, before taking him into your mouth.

You let out a sudden whine when Vladimir eases himself inside of you. Stefan shudders as your moans vibrate around his cock.

“God look at you,” gasps Vladimir. “Getting ravaged like a whore.”

The degradation sends spasms of pleasure through you as he continues to fuck you. You try to talk back, but continue to muffle yourself on Stefan’s cock, where he generously allows you to control the pace. As you get the sense of where he seems to be enjoying himself too much, you slow down.

“Easy,” you direct. “T-tell your b-buddy up there to cool it with, fuck, with the remarks.” Stefan practically whines as you loosen up on him. Managing to keep your strength while getting fucked, you grip onto his leg, steadying yourself. You hear Vladimir bark out a sadistic laugh from above you.

“You’re funny,” he grunts, “thinking you have power here…”

“We know all the answers…” replies Stefan, halfway jerking himself off while you gingerly suck the head of his cock.

“…We know what you are,” croons Vladimir. His pace rocks into you mercilessly. You’re left almost breathless, feeling your orgasm rapidly approaching. You feel that if you come, you would be letting them win their strange game they seem to be playing with you. All that flies out the window when Vladimir’s cock hits the deepest part of you. You let out a restrained scream as your orgasm rips you in two.

You look up to find Vladimir and Stefan in an embrace, mouths attacking one another’s as you ride out the throes of your orgasm.

“You did so well, newborn.” Hums Vladimir.

“…But, we still have a long way to go…” chuckles Stefan.

[sizzlinbaconpeach]

Melded Memories

Just a Valenfield fanfic that has been sitting in my drafts for probably close to a year. I thought I'd share.

There was something cathartic about watching the flames envelop and scorch the pictures. It was slowly becoming easier to let go. He wasn't sure if it was the campfire smoke or the memories that stung at his eyes more, but he knew that either way, he was thankful the darkness of night and the campfire smoke obscured him from everything - like he only existed in this small bubble of light radiating from the logs - that now helped him erase and ease the pang in his heart.

He plucked another photo from the top of the opened box and paused to glance at it, the flames in his periphery trying to lick it out of his hand.

A small smile curled his lip as he gazed at their faces, the picture emanating pride and happiness from a moment in the past. But that's what photographs are - a frozen memory, a momentary clip of time that can never be reclaimed or changed. Only destroyed, so that memory might fade into the folds of obscurity, becoming harder to resurface in your mind the farther in time it travels. Isn't that what he was seeking? Didn't he want to forget it all? So why did he hesitate?

His thumb grazed over the photo, it was a rare relic before Raccoon City's destruction. He just so happened to have it developed before he left for Europe. And he's kept it ever since. But it was time to let go, time to let her go. He allowed himself to steal one final glance, to retreat into those memories just once more. They were both so young and had won the Skeet Shooting Competition as a team, together, just like they had always done. It had been her first time demonstrating all she had learned after their multiple lessons together at the shooting range.

He was initially doubtful if he could really teach her anything, as something like improved marksmanship usually came with practice. But he would have been a fool to turn down the opportunity to spend time with a pretty woman who was interested in something that he was good at. Great at, really. So when she mentioned that she was frustrated with her poor aim, the words just fell out of his mouth to invite her to the shooting range. He half said it because he never thought she would actually listen to his silly suggestion. But she accepted, was even eager and excited, which made him beam like an idiot. Those smiles seemed so mockingly optimistic now.

An intense guilt gnawed at his stomach; regret and deep sadness followed. He was naive to think they could walk away unscathed from this job. And stupid to believe he could protect her from it.

"Jill, stop!"

The awful reality replayed over and over again, like it was stuck on repeat. The pressure of her kick against his chest was fresh in his mind, like he could feel it ripple through him, clattering his insides around.

"I'm not going to hurt you!"

But that didn't mean she would do the same. With her weight against him, pinning him to the ground, and hands firmly clasped against his throat, he locked eyes with her. Eyes that were spilling over with emotion.

It was too much. For a brief moment he wanted to let her win, he wanted her to be able to rid herself of that tormented echo. Let her falling tears stab him like knives so that she didn't have to suffer anymore. But as he looked at her face, her twisted and crying face, he couldn't let this strip away another piece of her. He managed to break her grip, quickly flipped her off of him, and rushed for the door as it slammed shut between them. He could hear her thrashing around on the other side, that echo still driving her into a frenzy.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do, Chris. Jill is not the same after everything she's been through. I - I think it best if you two... didn't see each other anymore."

"Where is Chris? Where is he? Is he okay? I want to see him! Please!"

"Jill, I want you to take some deep breaths. We just have to get the i.v. back in." The nurse tried to calm her with a firm but warm voice.

She saw the thick trail of blood running down the length of her arm, her palm tainted with the red blotchy stain. Her fingers felt sickly wet and uncomfortably sticky. Not again. She looked to the floor and saw the red drops leading to marks on the ground, that were smears of an indicated struggle. Please not again.

Her mind felt like it was on fire, in a daze and thick with a burning smoke. Her head was so heavy she barely had the energy to raise it. Her eyes felt like they wanted to retreat back into her head to try and find relief from the ache all over her body, but there was no relief. More tears fell out of her eyes as the needle pierced her skin.

"I'm not just going to give up on her like that!"

"No one is suggesting that she is a lost cause. Just... just that she needs -- distance. Your presence seems to be a catalyst to her worst symptoms. There has been an obvious pattern. We feel it would be best for the safety of yourself, Jill and all staff, if you refrained from seeing her until we can come to a better solution."

Those words were perhaps what he needed to hear, no matter how difficult. He would do anything to help Jill in whatever way he could. Like travel half way across the globe to fight through countless abominations to find her, with the scars to prove it, just as he had done in Africa. Scars. Just like he had done when pulled that torturous device off her chest. He would do anything, right? Even if it meant... Were the doctors words the truth? Was he the catalyst?

"Chris! Don't --!"

He loved the sound of her laugh.

I can’t--! Don’t say another word!"

He watched as her head went back in amusement. She tightly gripped his arm, which she only did when he said something to really make her lose herself. They always created a symphony of joy together - something that was needed every now and again to balance the stress of what they were doing - much to the annoyance of some co-workers. Their laughs used to even have Wesker threaten to move their desks. They were always a great source of relief for each other.  

Could he go back to those long days of not hearing her voice? Or those restless nights with her whisper in the wind? He closed his eyes tight and rubbed them, his grip firmly stopping at the bridge of his nose. At least this time he knows that she is alive. Or is she?

Her pale skin and lackluster eyes tried so hard to show how resilient she was, tried in vain to put up a strong front. But Chris knew. She couldn't hide that from him, despite her best efforts. He could see that what she had endured had worn her down, taken pieces of her that she would never get back. There was a deep ache in his heart. And it burned Chris alive. It burned in his stomach. And it burned the back of his throat when he thought about it long enough. Knowing there was little to nothing he could do to help ease her struggle. Swallowing hard knowing he was the reason for it.

Chris gripped the armrest of the chair, turning his face toward the window, not able to make eye contact with the doctor who was so patiently waiting for a response. The sound of strained wood snapped in his ears.

"For her."

He watched as their faces bubbled and morphed, melting into monstrous tortured expressions, until the flames only left a gaping hole of nothingness. Something he felt was closer to the truth. How cruel fate can be. How much this job had taken from them. They would never be their plucky, rambunctious, adventurous, and wide eyed selves again.

The big crackles of the fire reminded him of the sound of gunfire.

"I can see their faces, Chris."

The phone startled him from his sleep - something he was thankful he finally slipped into. He glanced at the clock, the neon numbers reading back 1:12am. A sigh escaped his throat. 2 hours. He was finally able to sleep for 2 hours. He reached over and picked up the receiver, covering his eyes with his other hand. Was Forest drunk again?

Chris caught himself as he responded with a hello. It couldn't have been Forest. He was lost that awful, awful night. A night that stole the rest of Chris' nights away.

"Are you alright?" He shot up in bed, even he could hear his immense concern.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be right over." He fumbled to grab an over shirt and his keys, "keep the light on, it helps. I should be there in 10 minutes."

He quickly gave himself a once over in the mirror, attempting to fix the hair that decided to stand at attention in his sleep. He quickly tied up his sneakers and headed out the door.

He practically ran to her apartment, wanting to shorten the, at the time, unbearable separation. What a fool he was to think those 10 minutes felt like the longest he had ever experienced in his life.

"I'm so sorry. I know - I know it's already so late --" She started as soon as she opened her door. Her eyes looked red and puffy, like she had been crying.

As he walked in, every single light was turned on in her small apartment. The bathroom light with the fan whirred in the background, the fluorescent buzzed overhead, and even the TV was turned on but muted.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "hey, hey. It's okay. I was already awake."

"I didn't know who else to call..."

Chris' voice was soft, "don't worry. Here, sit down." He pulled one of her kitchen chairs out.

"I - I..." she sighed as she tried to piece herself together, "I just couldn't. I can't anymore. You know what I mean?"

He took the seat next to her, "well, yeah, as soon as you tell me."

That got a smile out of her as she dipped her head down. A hand coming up to her forehead.

"I know, I must sound so jumbled right now, I'm sorry."

He glanced at her shaking hand and reached out to rest his own on her arm,

"it's okay. Take your time."

Jill's big blue eyes shined with gratitude, as if a giant weight was lifted from her shoulders, "thank you. Thank you for coming." Her voice was a little shaky.

He gently squeezed her arm with a smile then looked around, "I see you took my advice. Though the electric bill will kill ya."

"Oh yeah?" she smiled and then sighed with relief, "but you're right. It does help."

"Yeah." He didn't mean for his response to sound so resounding in it's understanding, but maybe that would comfort her more. To know that she wasn't the only one who was afraid of the shadows and the haunting darkness of night.

His eyes weren't fixed on anything in particular but the images in his own mind, "sometimes the rain makes it worse..."

"Yeah..." He could see a chill run up her spine. "I can see their faces, Chris."

"Me too." He scooted his chair over next to hers as he wrapped his arms around her, "I see them, too. You're not alone, Jill." There was a slight break in his voice.

"Don't be upset, Chris."

She had passed out on their weekly run together. She had insisted on going, even though Chris had his doubts that morning. She looked pale, even paler than normal if that were possible. He tried to assure her and persuade her to do their exercises another day, but she could not be deterred. So he tried to adjust his pace, and she was able to maintain that for a while, but he started to notice her breathing becoming really labored, so he suggested going into the park to do some squats. She was barely able to get out her feigned 'I'm fine', before Chris could see what was about to happen. He was thankful he was standing right next to her to catch her fall.

"How long was I out?"

"About half an hour."

Jill somewhat rolled her eyes as she turned her head away with a heavy sigh, the hospital grade pillow under her head made a noise as the crisp linen rubbed against itself. She was clearly struggling with her new limitations and it frustrated her to no end.

"It's getting longer..." she softly added with a sad voice.

"What do you mean?" Chris crossed his arms over his chest while tilting his head to intently listen.

Jill continued to stare up at the ceiling, there was a depression to her voice, "the time. How long I'm out. It's getting longer."

"You've passed out multiple times?" Chris thought he sounded more like a father scolding his rebellious teenager.

She didn't respond. Just continued to presumably stare at nothing, or maybe it was because she didn't want to meet his eye. But her brows were knitted in what looked to be annoyance.

"Jill, why didn't you tell me?" His hands returned to the arms of the chair as he leaned in. He didn't think he did a good job of masking the anger in his voice. It hurt him that she didn't share that with him. And her response was sharp.

"I didn't think it mattered!" She sat up to finally meet his gaze.

"Didn't matter --?"

"I didn't want to be back here! I didn't want to be stuck in a stupid lab like I had been for years!" Her voice was raw, like admitting that broke a piece of her.

Chris fell silent. All words escaped his mind as none would be sufficient enough to ease that truth. He stared at her for a moment before casting his eyes to the floor.

"It should be me laying there. This never should have been placed on you..." His gaze became fuzzy as he continued to look down.

That's all I have - just a hodgepodge of slop. Just a bunch of fanficiton Valenfield love. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to write but then I always get side-tracked and/or forget what my original intention was, haha. Sorry - hopefully you can enjoy this scatterbrained mess!

[deadvnstudios]

Hello! This is for the character question week! I like being outdoorsy, so I would like to ask how would everybody react on a camping adventure?

"...I now understand survival of the fittest…"

Noel is once again reminded he might be the only capable person in this group, and he is forced to constantly take over tasks the others are failing at.

The next morning, Noel takes an "everyone for themselves" attitude in regard to cooking breakfast. He departs from the campsite before dawn and heads to the trails most renowned for bird watching, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

It's right as a rare bird settles in the sites of his binoculars that Mona and Vein appear from behind, their laughs piercing the air and startling the bird away. Noel turns, considering homicide, only to decide there are too many witnesses, when they both slyly suggest he might want to return to camp.

At a breakneck pace, he heads back to camp, arriving at the harrowing sight of flaming mallows being waved around and improperly secured sausages sliding off their roasting sticks and plopping into the fire.

To no one's surprise: he winds up cooking dinner.

"Nature, the finest work to be crafted by the gods! Shall we see what mysteries they've left for us to find…?"

Still dressed entirely in her dark outfits, Mona roasts beneath the sun–but she faces the heat with a dogged determination.

She volunteers to collect firewood, only to disappear for an hour because a unique cluster of mushrooms caught her attention. When she finally returns, she has no firewood, but she does have several pages worth of mushroom sketches.

This surprises no one. In fact, a contingency plan was put in place the minute she volunteered, and she delightfully curls up in front of the fire someone else constructed. There, she shows off her sketches to anyone who glances her way–particularly Sorin.

After this, much of her camping adventure is spent exploring the nearby woods (where, according to Mary, a sacrificial site can be found) and sketching every creature she comes across. In the evening, she eagerly shoves the sketches into Sorin's face in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Did mankind not begin their construction of abodes so we could avoid wallowing in filth…?"

Dripping in sweat and unable to find a clean surface to sit upon, Sorin finds maintaining his princely demeanor difficult while camping.

Having no experience and even less interest in camping, Sorin is… very little help around the campsite, unless you consider staying out of the way helping.

The only joy he seems able to find is standing near the stream's edge, watching small minnows and tadpoles drift along with the current. This joy is doubled when the sun finally sets and the moon's pale light glimmers across the water's surface.

"Really, we came all the way out here to listen to Tempest's whiny-ass songs around a campfire? We get enough of this at home."

Mary prefers to stay with her creature comforts and only agreed to go on this trip because it was a break from the commune's monotony.

She quickly discovers while she hates how needlessly complicated camping is, she greatly enjoys all the opportunities camping presents to spook the other members.

This often takes the form of disappearing at night, only to crack twigs and create odd noises near the tree line. Once everyone has gone to bed for the night, she'll grab a flashlight and create scary shadow creatures on everyone's tents.

"Aw, fuck! Another mosquito just fucking bit me! But, hah, even mosquitoes think I'm tasty. All part of the charm, I guess."

Tempest wants to believe himself a hardened naturalist, and he tells the others as such, but he is really just a stream of annoyed complaints: there's too many bugs, he's getting sunburnt, the stream water tastes funny (Noel: "…you need to boil it first."), the tent instructions don't make any sense… etc, etc, etc.

When he has to dismantle the tent for the third time, he abandons this task completely in a fit of frustration and goes to pout by the stream with Sorin. He is not safe here, either, because immediately, the bugs start gobbling him.

Eventually, he decides he will be the de facto entertainer. He takes up what seems like permanent residence by the firepit where he sings and plays his guitar, confident this will help lighten the mood.

"Nothing cozier than a nice fire and friends! Huh - we can't make a fire? Aha, oh well - nothing cozier than friends and a good game night."

Vein doesn't find much enjoyment in sweating and physical activities, but she does enjoy playing games and having everyone trapped and at her mercy in a single area. She loves hanging out–and this is the perfect excuse to hang out with no distractions.

When no one was looking, Vein loaded up every outdoor game they could find into their vehicle. It's only once things are being unloaded at the campsite that it's discovered Vein removed the group's firestarter in place of… you guessed it: another yard game.

She starts camp set-up by delegating tasks, only to eventually do most of the work alongside Noel.