#i was only half joking about the death threats

[cordeliawhohung]

meet carlos. hes small so like I can't even catch him if I tried.

charles is much more polite but he only likes my brother cuz he's a fatass

and I was sending you death threats so maybe it was a good thing carlos didn't let me

i love them! they look so soft. a shame they prevented you from sending me death threats i find those rather enjoyable honestly

[swagging-back-to]

not sorry. i extend very little sympathy and patience towards tras who are underage, and the only ones who do get said sympathy are TIFs. but again. it's MICROSCOPIC levels of sympathy.

[mythicalcoolkid]

Just wanted to say I've read through a lot of your posts, and you are amazingly well-spoken and thoughtful, particularly in regards to LGBTQ issues in society. I am a follower and a fan. You rock!🏳️‍🌈❤️

Thank you so much, this made my day. I pride myself on being nuanced and thorough but sometimes on the Worst Faith Approach website it's easy for me to feel like I explain myself poorly. It means a lot to hear that other people understand what I mean and that I actually do explain myself well - some people just love getting angry and that's not my problem

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[pomefioredove]

If you don't mind, could you do for Flirty prompts event: "Trouble never looked so goddamn fine." with Riddle?

absolutely o7 I had a lot of fun with this one

summary: "trouble never looked so goddamn fine" type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, maybe a little ooc, riddle being a repressed victorian LOL a part of this event

"Are you done yet?"

Riddle knows, logically, that you're only doing this to get on his nerves. No matter how he chides, shouts, threatens (and makes good of those threats), you keep coming back for more.

You flash him a big grin, strawberry staining your teeth red.

He grimaces. You either have a death wish, or you're stupid enough to think that he won't punish you.

"We're on a schedule," he says, though you're already well aware.

"The unbirthday party ended an hour ago. You can't possibly still be eating."

"And let this go to waste?" you gasp, pointing your fork at the last remaining slice of tart. "That would be rude, Housewarden."

You're clearly being sarcastic.

Death wish, it is.

"There is no rule about having to finish an entire tart by yourself," Riddle crosses his arms. "Let alone one about having to stay after an unbirthday party has ended for it."

You roll your eyes. Testing his patience once again.

"I didn't say it was a dorm rule. It's just common courtesy. I'm sure Trey will be flattered once he sees the entire plate licked clean."

Riddle shivers at the mental image of that. "That is wholly unnecessary,"

"Maybe if you help me finish, I'll be done faster," you hum.

It's a trap. He knows it is. But...

"If it will get you back to your room, so be it," he sighs, taking a seat beside you. "I suppose I have room for half a piece. Shall I c-"

He turns, and is met with a forkful of glistening strawberry, mere inches from his lips.

"What is this?"

"Tart,"

He sighs. "No, what are you doing?"

"Sharing, like we said,"

You address him as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Riddle narrows his eyes.

"I'm not eating off that. Your mouth was on it,"

You shrug, eyes brimming with barely-restrained mirth. "I cleaned it,"

And he's supposed to believe that? He crosses his arms, glaring, but you still don't back down.

You're nearly as stubborn as he is. After an agonizing eternity of staring, he closes the distance between himself and the tart, eating off your fork.

Only to be met with another piece.

"I am not a child. I can feed myself," he mutters. He can feel his face turning red, and not from anger.

"Sure, you can, but I bet this is much better, right?"

Riddle sighs, taking another sweet bite. He really shouldn't entertain you; he doesn't want you getting any ideas...

You hum, clearly pleased with his compliance, and then take bite off the same fork.

He pales. "That's disgusting,"

"I actually quite like this tart, thank you," you say merrily, talking through a mouthful of strawberry.

Such a clear disregard for table manners... It makes his heart skip a beat.

"That is clearly not what I meant. And I'm not having any more,"

You scoff. "What are you, five? Afraid of cooties?"

Riddle's face turns redder than the tart itself. He stammers pathetically for a moment, at a loss for his usual sharp words.

"I-I am not! It's unsanitary to share utensils!"

"Is that a rule?"

He simmers, crossing his arms again. "As you put it, it's just common courtesy,"

You draw another forkful up, letting it linger in front of your lips for a moment. "Fine, I'll leave..."

Your hesitance turns into mirth, and you point the tart towards his own mouth. "But... just one more bite."

Riddle scoffs, studying your expression. He hopes you're joking.

You're not.

He knows he really shouldn't indulge you. You're enough of a troublemaker as it is... but...

...He leans forward and takes the bite. Trouble never looked so goddamn fine.

[phas3d]

Slytherin boys as gamer bfs and what games they would play with their significant other?

Gamers >:) | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: cock fighting, animal cruelty, gambling, threats (these are all for fucking tom bc ofc it is...) - suicide joke (mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom. mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: im ngl idk half of these games in depth - i just heard and seen the sterotypes of these games - fps = first person shooter, dbh = detroit become human, abg = asian baby girl, bow = breathe of the wild ||

DRACO MALFOY sims 4 / roblox

This man sucks ass at gaming, he literally can't do it

His aim is shit, he screams when he's in a fight, and he rage quits the second he loses

So he has to stick to girly games

He has so many mods and cc for sims that it's insane

His pc runs like it's on life support because of this, pls save that poor computer

And he likes playing roblox too sometimes

But he doesn't even play the normal games

Bro plays Dress To Impress and Maple Hospital...

Like what the fuck are you doing there??? Go on BloxFruits or smth man

What's even worse is he eats EVERYONEEE up in Dress to Impress, he literally always top 3

And when he isn't top 3, he curses and swears but it doesn't go through cause tags

He literally cannot do obbys either oh my fucking god

You know that one meme of Sadness from Inside Out dropping her popcorn and someone quote-tweets it saying, "Damn she can't do anything"

That's exactly who Draco is when it comes to gaming

TOM RIDDLE dark web gambling / elden ring

Oh my fucking God this guy can't have a normal hobby ever

He doesn't game at all,,, literally just gambling bruh

He hosts illegal gambling rings online and even host some in the school basement

One time he even hosted an illegal cock ring fight...

Yes,,, he stole the chickens from Hagrid and made them fight....

He even used magic to give them powers like pokemon....

He made a fucking WATER chicken and FIRE chicken fight

Thank god he didn't actually let them kill each other, he just did it until one was near death

But back to gambling - he also manipulates people in so many ways

He casts a spell that silently chants "go all in, go all in" so it subconsciously makes people bet more

Bro even gets some students in DEBT!?!?! Like how tf did you do that and WHYYY would you do that

If someone doesn't come down to the basement in a while to gamble,,, then Tom will fix that

Besides illegal gamlbing...

He plays Elden Ring, which is pretty normal

Besides the fact that he BEAT THAT SHIT IN LIKE 2 DAYS?!!??!!?

Normally streamers, pro gamers, they all take weeks and sometimes even months just to make progress

But Tom is just,,, just better ig?

So yeah... He sticks to gambling cause every other game is just too easy for him

MATTHEO RIDDLE gta V / fortnite / rocket league / nba 2k24

God this guy is the worst sterotypical middle school boy ever

He even had the ugly ass big blue headset with the shit mic on it

Plays GTA V every now and then, only when he's angry

That's when he goes around town and just beats the shit out of everyone

Likes playing Fortnite for hours on end with his friends, mostly Theo and Lorenzo cause they can actually keep up with him (Draco is ass at FPS and

Plays rocket league and NBA 2k24 because of fucking course he does - look at him....

He's just a boy....

A really toxic one.....

Definitely screams "KILL YOURSELFFFFF!!!!!!" if he loses and honestly he's kinda real for that

THEODORE NOTT god of war / detroit become human

Loves games that have a long story

It's a good mix of story and fighting, he can't really get into pure FPS games

Have done most routes in DBH and even found easter eggs and hacks

Tries to get you into the lore as well but sometimes it goes so deep you get confused

"NO!!! Connor in route 8 is actually a pretty neutral guy and he's-"

Like bro what??? Why do you know everything about this "Connor" guy??? smh

He dabbles in some FPS sometimes, like playing Fortnite with Matt and Enzo

And he actually REALLY good

Has great aim and precision

But he just can't get into it for some reason, it's not his type

LORENZO BERKSHIRE valorant / zelda breath of the wild

I feel like Enzo playing Valorant makes so so sooo much sense

He's not AS toxic as the other guys, but he's still weird and fuck-boy-ish in his own way

Definitely plays with e-girls and tries to bag an ABG

But he gets catfished....

He's pretty good at Valorant, surprisingly

His mic stays on for every single game... Even if no one else is talking

This man will talk to a fucking wall and still be yapping

"Okay guys way I need to pee" ...

There's only bots in his server.........

He also loves RPG games and stuff like that

So BOW is perfect for him to shut off his mind and just roam and do useless tasks

[hana-no-seiiki]

Omg the dog shapeshifter ask is amazing but like- cat. i can already imagine Tim being all over you and being one of those guys where half his personality is just that he has a cat. Dick would 120% invest in those hoodies with the pouch to carry their cats, and Jason just carries you everywhere (wiggles be danmed).

The only person who has any qualms about it is Alfred because everything is covered in cat hair lmao.

meow. more pawtastic cat villain! reader w/ batfam

@sophiethewitch1 👅

You tended to take the lead when it came to your relationships with the Robins

They were just too busy with duty and heroism that they rarely ever took the time to be or get into relationships. So you would help them, cover them in that area per se.

Though there were times, like an actual cat, that you suddenly hate their asses or be indifferent. You didn’t notice it yourself really. Sometimes you were just stressed from real life problems and whatnot

or dealing with Bruce’s constant sermons about how you were a bad influence on Jason. Blaming you for all these strung up bodies across the streets of Gotham that had been tied up with yarn and catnip.

sometimes you just wanted to reel back the persona you’ve built up as a villain and just chill out

but you see, if there’s anyone who would notice the slightest change in your demeanor it would be the batboys

Tim and Jason would be the first. They spend the most time with you.

Instead of giving them a kiss or a quick fuck after a job well done, you’d just say goodbye and leave.

Not even in your signature cat joke filled way of saying goodbye

Hell you would even just teleport out of there without a word

Tim would have most likely observed you more, but Jason? Jason would be on your ass in seconds

“Hey, kitty? We need to talk.“

Did I mention that the boys love to use various cat related nicknames for you? The cringier the better.

(Damian just calls you pussy at times)

In anycase, Jason knocks on your door. But you do not respond. Like, for a long fucken time.

Ofc, he smashed the door open.

And what does he see?

Well first it was nothing. I mean his eyes weren’t directly on the floor immediately . But then he move his gaze down,

You, in your cat form.

He just about screams. Shrieks. Like I could maintain his sense of dignity for you dear reader but nah. It started as a shout of surprise before it turned into a high pitched cry, and lastly cooing.

He’s confused at first and is worried about your sudden disappearance til you cleared things up.

Something about a curse that turns you into an actual cat at random moments.

You said it interrupted a lot of your civilian business (school, work, etc.) and so your mental health and well being took a decline.

And boy did Jason go mom mode.

He’s more on the practical side. He makes sure you’re comfortable and guarded especially when in dangerous situations.

Will never let you go on a heist with this curse on going. What if you get shot by a guard? What if you get kidnapped by those horrid animal pounds? Not to mention those perverts that would… no he shook his head.

Definitely keeps you within arms reach at all if not most times.

Tim finds out soon after. You tried to ask him to respect your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself. He was scared to death that he did something wrong or exposed something he did that breached your trust.

He immediately buys a ton of cat related products for you.

Not only that he does an extensive amount of research on cat health and diets.

His rooms gets covered by different studies on cat cellular makeup before he realizes that

Oh crap, he kinda enjoyed this.

And he hasn’t looked up how to actually cure this curse of yours.

Damian soon follows. He’s got it the worst out of all members.

Prides himself with his wide experience and knowledge with animals.

He uses visits to the vet as a threat when you misbehave.

But you’re a villain, you don’t get scared easily right? What’s the worse that could happen at the vet’s?

… yeah he almost got you neutered/spayed.

Safe to say that you were much more obedient after that.

Bruce isn’t that available or good with pets, so he mostly just funds whatever the boys do hoping that it’d lead to them not destroying stuff or killing people for you any more than before the curse.

Dick is the last to find out, and that was because Tim dropped a whole thesis about why the latter should definitely have more [Y/N]-cat-duty hours!

I mean just look at those charts! Your happiness is definitely at its highest when you’re with him

(ignoring the fact that he showers you with catnip)

Dick is definitely the

Cuteness aggression that borders on abuse type of cat owner

Very touchy with you.

And yes he invests a lot of money to get have pouches on his suits for you to be in. If not you’d be like that one cat from Spiderman Miles Morales just hanging out from a backpack of sorts, designed so you’ll never fall out.

Collars.

These men have collectively spent around hundreds of thousands of dollars on cat related shit

And you’re still wondering how tf this curse came to be

[pretzel-box]

Hi, I hope you're having a wonderful day!! I love your fanfics sm and I wanted to request GN!reader's reaction to Sebastian introducing Painter for the first time to them after a near-death experience caused by them? It can be angsty or not, entirely your choice! :D

Tags: GN! reader, slight comedy

Words: 1,2k

“How long do we have to walk?” your voice piped up after passing a few rooms with Sebastian at your side, which seemed annoyed at the constant question.

“Like I said before…the past 5 times…in the past 10 minutes…It's DOWN THE HALL.” The annoyed tone in his voice was barely something that bothered you, you just secretly believed that Sebastian is a bit short tempered.

The two of you decided to do a quick trip, escaping the boring shop duties and fleeing into the familiar walls of the blackside. At first you thought that it's another of the frequent scavenging runs, looking for stuff to trade against assets but you could only raise an eyebrow at Sebastian who passed a perfectly fine medkid. Meanwhile you stood there, holding your fourth lantern, while the other three were hanging around your arm.

“What the hell are you doing? Trying to become a damn flash beacon yourself or what?”

—

“Maybe,” you shot back, adjusting the many lanterns hanging off your arm with a familiar smirk. “Ever think about how handy it’d be to have some extra light around here? Unlike some people, I like to be prepared.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at your half-joking comment, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, barely visible. “Yeah, sure. Because carrying a whole damn lighthouse with you is being prepared.”

You just shrugged, grinning as you fell back in step beside him, his file didn't lie, he is quick despite his appearance. “Hey, you never know when you’ll need a little extra illumination. Or, you know, when you’ll need to blind someone annoying.”

“Oh, is that what you’re planning? Using those lanterns to blind me?” he snorted, glancing sideways at you before giving your head a gentle hit on the back. “Good luck with that.”

“You think I won’t?” you teased, nudging him back with your shoulder as you walked. “I could be dangerous, you know. A real threat.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, really dangerous. I’m shaking in my coat.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sarcasm in his voice, the easy banter between the two of you. For all your differences, there was something oddly comforting about the back-and-forth, the way you could trade jabs without any real malice. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This wasn’t the usual scavenging run, and Sebastian seemed oddly focused, his eyes darting ahead down the dimly lit hall. And aside from that Sebastian once hit you for passing by a perfectly fine medkit once, and now he's the one walking half-blind through the building.

“So, what’s really going on, Seb?” you asked, trying to catch his eye. “This doesn’t feel like one of our usual trips.”

Sebastian hesitated, his steps faltering for just a moment before he forced himself to keep moving. He seems to think about his word choice before speaking up. “I told you, we’re just… going to meet someone.”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued at the mention. “Meet someone? Out here? You know, if you’re trying to sell me to some creepy scientist or something, just give me a heads-up, alright?”

Sebastian snorted again, a genuine laugh escaping his lips this time. “Trust me, no one’s buying your smart mouth.”

“Oh, ouch,” you feigned offense, clutching a hand to your chest dramatically. “You wound me, Sebastian. You really do.”

He just squinted his eyes at your dramatic words but you could see the amused glint in them. “Look, just… trust me, okay? It’s not far now.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically, but you followed him anyway. You trusted him after being stuck with him for so long. You two managed to reach a comfortable level with each other. Few more steps and Sebastian suddenly stopped, causing you to almost bump into his large form and stepping on his tail.

“We’re here,” he announced, gesturing toward an unmarked metal door. You eyed it warily, then glanced at him.

“Seriously? This is where you wanted to go?”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he swiped a shimmering keycard through a reader on the metallic door, and with a loud beep, the door slid open with ease. The room beyond was dimly lit, the soft hum of machinery filling the air. You could see a few lights flickering in the darkness, and a strange chill ran down your spine.

“Alright, come on in,” Sebastian said, stepping inside and motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated for a moment, but then curiosity got the better of you. You stepped into the room, glancing around cautiously. “So… who are we meeting exactly?”

Sebastian took a deep breath, clearly bracing himself for your reaction. “This… is P.AI.nter,” he said, gesturing toward one of the screens where a digital face slowly appeared, composed of pixelated lines and shifting colors. The computer itself was behind some iron-fence, keeping you from actually reaching him.

“Hello” the face said in a surprisingly smooth, almost friendly voice. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

Your jaw dropped, and you took an involuntary step back, nearly tripping over one of the lanterns dangling from your arm. “Wait a minute,” you said, your eyes narrowing. “Isn’t this the AI that almost got me killed?!”

Sebastian winced, realizing it might be possible and that he's probably at fault too, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah… about that. P.AI.nter can be a bit overwhelming.”

“A little overwhelming?!” you repeated incredulously, staring at him with wide eyes, your stare made him uncomfortable. “It locked me in a room with a giant, homicidal shark! On what planet is that ‘a little overwhelming?”

Painter’s digital face flickered slightly, and you could swear it looked… embarrassed? “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” it said. “I was merely following Sebastian's protocol. I didn’t intend for you to come to any harm.”

“Oh, well, that makes it all better, doesn’t it?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I nearly got my brain fried off, but hey, it was just following protocol.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Maybe someone shouldn't flash sharks with flash beacons and then insist on a stare battle.” He mumbles under his breath before trying to intervene. “Look, I get that you’re upset, but Painter’s actually really helpful. And, you know… it wanted to apologize.”

You stared at him for a moment, then back at the screen. “Fine,” you said finally, though you still didn’t look convinced. “Apology accepted… I guess. But if you try to kill me again, I’m taking a sledgehammer to this entire room. Got it?”

Painter’s face flickered again, and it smiled. “Understood. I will make every effort to ensure your safety in the future.”

Sebastian let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “See? No harm, no foul. Now, why don’t we all just… start over, yeah?”

You shot him a look, but then a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, okay. But you owe me for this, Seb. Big time. Especially since it seems like it was your fault in the first place.”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Deal.”

The three of you spend some time, first P.AI.nter made you uncomfortable since the memories of his little navipath tricks are unsettling you. But the more you got to know him, the more you felt at ease. He seems genuinely nice and interested in you, probably aiming to befriend you.

As you turned to leave, you could hear Painter’s voice behind you, sounding almost… amused. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your lips as you and Sebastian walked back down the hall, the tension finally beginning to ease.

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

I can completely break down the notion that jews do not experience ethnic discrimination within western countries, specifically the USA.

for context I am genetically half jewish and half italian, and since I was born i have been more connected to judaism in a cultural and a religious sense. though its not a huge part of my life like judaism is it's definitely still important.

a lot of people like to argue that jews were once not seen as white and now we are, just like Italians, Greeks, Irish, etc were (at least in the USA) and I can confirm that's total bullshit. I have, not once in my life, been treated badly for being Italian. I have never had someone shame me for my appearance, make fun of my cultural food, threaten me, insult me, insult my father, say they wish I died, harassed me, or any other violent or demeaning acts because im Italian. not once in my entire life has that happened. even living in the rural USA where traditional white supremacy is alive and well that did not happen.

yet I have absolutely been harassed, verbally abused, demeaned, belittled, etc. for being jewish. Ive experienced antisemitism since I was 5 and possibly younger. ive heard holocaust jokes, nose/eye jokes, had swastikas drawn on my things, received death threats, gotten rape threats, been called a murderer, been told I should burn, was told I was poisoning the seas, had people deny my very real trauma, was told that I should've stayed dead (for context I overdosed and had to be resuscitated once), and many more things all because im jewish. these are just instances in which it was specifically mentioned or heavily heavily implied that its because im jewish.

Many of these things happened when theae people didn't even know I'm a practicing jew and some even when I stopped practicing for a couple years. a lot of the time the only reason they had to believe I was jewish was my appearance and yeah sure they were right but what it shows is that appearance alone is enough for people to be antisemitic. you know, if jews weren't ethnically discriminated then why do people target us for having things like large noses and curly hair? or for the foods that we eat? or for anything that isnt directly related to religious practices?

anyway I dont believe for a second that anyone who thinks jews dont experience ethnic discrimination in the USA has ever had a genuine conversation with a jew about antisemitism. 5 year old me did not deserve to feel like he was ugly all for some assholes to say that jews are making all this up.

☆this is part 2 in which I will add important context bc if anyone is gonna overanalyze my argument its me. u can read it if you want its not necessary to understand the post.

like I said I have spent most of my life in rural areas where there are many less jews than in big cities and obvious white supremacy is common. im 100% sure this affected a lot of the antisemitism i received.

I am sephardic, not ashkenazi. most goyim do not have a clue what this means. those who do generally think it means "jewish but spicier and more exotic (aka less american)" which could have contributed to some of the discrimination i faced for not being seen as American enough.

this is my experience not anyone else's! I am not discrediting what other people have gone though regarding any experiences with discrimination

[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

[lotsoflola]

all is fair in love and war [1] - s. johnny

summary: you hate johnny suh, you absolutely hate him, but when you're forced to spend time with him on a mission, your passionate hate becomes a different sort of passion genre: gang au, enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers warnings: mature themes, smut, angst, reader is a smoker (projection), TENSION!!!, hate fucking, heavy heavy heavy degradation, johnny's not very nice, the dirtiest fucking talk, dom!johnny, brat!reader, thigh riding, johnny gets head, johnny keeps fucking her despite threat of death, choking, wrote this at 2am lets be nice with my grammar word count: 6.6k author's note: welcome to part one of my baby!! this is the first chapter of all is fair in love and war and trust me, it just gets better...

series masterlist

neo city was a complete and utter shithole.

it had always been like that, at least as far as you were aware. you had lived here for the past five years, getting yourself a cheap starter apartment for half the price of anywhere else. it was a culture shock at first, being scared just to walk through the streets to your job, but you assimilated quickly, finding a job as a bartender in the inner city, in a cosy bar called the 'urban oasis'.

it was there you first had an interaction with gang life. it was a quiet night at the bar. you were practically dosing off, only a few regulars in the far corner playing darts, and everyone else had been sent home, leaving you to close alone.

a man walked into the building, and as he did so, the other men seemed to quieten down, stiffen slightly, stop playing their game. you were confused, but truly didn't care enough to question anything. instead, you turned to the man, and prepared to take his order.

he looked like neo city, if that was even possible. green neon hair, matching the fluorescent lights that covered the city, with tattoos up his neck and arms and a leather jacket to complete the look.

"whiskey on the rocks," he stated, voice harsh.

you rolled your eyes, hating rude customers like him. "what type of whiskey? we've got jack daniels, jamesons-"

"just give me your top shelf," he snapped again, and you gave him a pointed look before going to fulfil his request.

it didn't take you long, and when you passed him the chilled glass, you also handed him a receipt.

"that will be $45, would you like to pay cash or card?" you asked, watching as his face grew clouded.

"i'm sorry," his tone was almost testing, as if he was giving you a chance to take back your statement.

"i said it will be $45, you got our top shelf of whiskey," you repeated, going to wipe some glassware, but were met with a firm grip on your wrist. "what the fu-"

"leave it, honey," one of your regulars, a man called sooman, shouted across to you, fear lacing his voice.

"no, he got a whiskey, he'll pay for his fucking whiskey- let go of me," you tried to squirm, but his grip was harsh, and you truly couldn't escape.

"do you not know who i am?" he sneered, face dangerously close to yours.

you sighed. "i don't care who you are, i'm not getting fired because some dickhead wants to get away without paying."

and with that, you swang at him, your fist colliding with his head as he let go from the impact, giving you a chance to swing at him again. he jumped over the bar, and grabbing your arms, pinning them against your side before pushing you up against a wall, leaving you completely unable to move. it was only then you noticed the gun in his belt, and the tattoo at the base of his neck, one that had three letters.

n. c. t. the name of the most dangerous gang in neo city.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, practically convincing yourself that you were about to die.

"recognise me now?" he almost joked, and you gave him a look. a look that said if you're going to kill me, might as well kill me now. "i'm not going to kill you."

that took you by surprise, and he must have been able to tell, as he carefully let go of your hands. "scram."

the rest of the customers ran out of the bar, leaving just you and the man alone, and he gestured for you to sit. you refused however, instead grabbing a bottle of tequila and pouring it into your own glass, waiting for him to make the first move.

"my name is taeyong, i'm the leader of nct," he spoke calmly, and you tried to not show your immense anxiety pumping through your veins. "and judging by what i've just seen, i think you would make a good addition."

you could have laughed, instead taking a swig of your drink, the bruning sensation grounding you to this unbelievable reality. "me? in a gang?"

"it's not all killing, and drug dealing, and all the other things everyone thinks it is. you've got bite, got drive, and we need someone like you," he took a sip of his drink, leaning closer towards you, "and you'll make more in your first week than you would in a month here."

and hearing his words, though you wanted to deny, you found yourself accepting his offer.

~~~

four years later, here you were, high in the ranks of the most feared gang in neo city, a force to be reckoned with. the bar you once worked for minimum wage at you now owned, and nct used it for meetings and to unwind.

no one could touch you know, instead of fearing the streets people now crossed the road for you, and you felt untouchable. you had honed your craft, mainly in charge of wooing policemen and being eye candy during meetings. you didn't care, you didn't want to be making all the decisions, it was the sense of community you cared about more.

so here you were, ten pm on a monday night, a group of you playing snooker in the bar. a cigarette held loose in your fingertips, with a fellow member jaemin lying with his head in your lap, playing with his hair with your other hand.

"do you ever think that this is all a simulation and we're all actually fruit in a fruit bowl?" the boy in your lap mumbled, the alcohol obvioudly affecting his thoughts.

jeno, another boy with you, chuckled slightly, finishing putting a pool ball. "shut up, jaemin. i always forget you're such a lightweight."

"now, now, he's not that bad," you hummed, taking a drag from your cigarette.

"stop playing nice, cherry. he's had about three shots and is contemplating life on this earth," haechan sneered, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

cherry was the nickname you had earned yourself, due to the amount you ate the fruit around the members. you preferred it to your own name at this point, making it easier to seperate your personal life and, well whatever this life was, life.

"he's not as bad as jisung though, remember that night after the bank heist," chenle joked, earning a slap from the youngest member.

"it was a celebration, god, leave me alone," jisung mumbled, as the older members ruffled his hair.

it was at this point haechan fell over attempting to put the ball, collapsing into renjun as they both fell on top of each other, roughly slapping each other as they rolled on the floor. the group erupted into laughter, only stopped as a knock was heard on the bar door.

"who's that?" jeno asked, and you shrugged, taking another hit.

"bar's always closed on a monday."

"well, go check it out."

"why don't you check it out, haechan?"

"it's your bar."

"nct owns it. that means we all own it."

"you chose to buy it."

"suck my dick."

"oh my god, you have a penis?"

mark, the oldest of all the members, cleared his throat. "jesus christ, stop bickering, cherry, go get the door."

you flipped haechan off, but stood up nonetheless, causing jaemin to pout against your thigh.

"i'm just going to the door, jaem, don't you worry?" you patted his cheek, before wandering over to the door, and opening the peep hole.

"bar's closed," you sung, "get fucked."

the man sighed. "it's me, open the fuck up."

you recognised that voice. of course you fucking recognised that voice. the one member of nct who you loathed, who for some reason you couldn't stand.

"gonna need the password, i'm afraid," you teased, mouthing to a confused mark who was at the door.

"let me in or i will blow this bar to the fucking ground," he spat, and you oblidged, however much you didn't want to.

johnny suh was a tall man, towering over you as you opened the door, with washed out jeans and an oversized hoodie, with a beanie on his head do deal with the cold winter weather. he was handsome, but you would never admit that to him, because his personality made him completely insufferable.

"hi cherry." god, you hated the way he said your nickname, almost with a twinge of disgust behind it.

"what do you want?" you asked, hand still firmly on the door, not letting him enter just yet.

he smirked. "play nice, need to talk to jaemin about something. and a drink wouldn't hurt, go get us a jack and coke, huh?"

he was insufferable, the way he spoke as if you were nothing, just a pretty thing to run and make drinks and flirt. even the non-affiliates got treated better than you, and you had been here for four years now.

"go fuck yourself, john," you spat, wandering back over to the boys and shaking jaemin awake. "someone's here to speak to you."

"is it the fruitbowl?" he asked, and you sighed, placing his head back down in your lap.

johnny wandered over, and you watched his face drop as he noticed jaemin's state. "why would you let him drink?"

the question was targeted at you, for whatever reason, and you fought back. "i'm not his mother, john. what did you want anyway?"

"don't be snappy, cherry," his voice was laced with venom, a patronising tone irritating you entire being, "it concerns you as well. it was meant to be you and jaemin, but someone's going to have to step in."

you hummed as you realised what he meant. a group of four of you had been working on stealing money from a large formal dinner happening at the mayor's house tomorrow night. that was partly why you and jaemin were drinking, courage needed for tomorrow. it was the two of you, johnny, and another member jungwoo, but the entire thing was already planned out. it was weeks in the making, so you didn't know what johnny was talking about.

"what do you mean?" mark spoke your mind, being somewhat in the know about the situation. he was selected before you were, when they decided they needed a girl to step in.

johnny sighed, palm stroking down his jaw. "you know how we were going to use that catering company, sneak in as waiters for the evening."'

you nodded, resisting the urge to role your eyes at him. you obviously knew this, you had gone over it again and again and again until you could recite the entire thing like the back of your hand.

"well, the numbers have dropped, and therefore we've been dropped from the waiting staff."

you tilted your head. "can't we demand they let us in?"

"they don't know we're nct, that was the only way we could get in," johnny groaned, once again looking at jaemin's drunk state, as if affirming that he was knocked out cold. "cherry, i need you not to freak out."

this startled you; sentences that start like that don't normally end well, especially when someone like johnny suh was saying them.

"there is another way we can get in though, through the hwangs."

haechan wandered over, perching behind you on the armrest of the sofa, grabbing the cigarette from your hand and taking a hit. "they're the businessmen, right?"

"yeah, very quiet, keep to themselves a lot of the time," johnny stated, copying haechan's actions as he settled behind jaemin's feet, "they're also with us, we do a lot of their dirty work."

"but how does that help us?" you jutted in, grabbing the cigarette back from haechan, almost burnt to the filter.

johnny tuts. "i was getting to that, sweetheart."

sweeheart was arguably worse than cherry.

"the hwangs have two children, hyunjin and yeji. but they've never been seen, both of them are off at school in a different part of the country. the plan was that jaemin would go in as their son, and infiltrate that way, but obviously he's not prepared to be briefed tonight."

your hand found it's way to jaemin's hair, your acrylic nails gently massaging his scalp. "so what else can we do?"

"well, there's another option. you," he gestured loosely, and you flipped him off before taking your final hit of the cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray as smoke filled the room. "you're going to go to the event as hwang yeji and represent your parents."

it wasn't that absurd of an idea. you could spend tonight learning some family history and dropping the rough slang you had learnt.

"that doesn't seem that bad," you hummed, grabbing your bag and pulling another cigarette out. "hyuck, have you got a lighter?"

he passed it to you, and you ignored johnny's judgemental stare of your brought the stick to your mouth, the low light of a flame illuminating your face. you took a long drag, head leaning back against haechan's thigh as you exhaled.

"well, i'm not sure whether you know, but for formal events like these, girls cannot attend without a male escort," johnny informed you, and you stopped in your tracks, understanding the implication. "no, no, johnny no."

"there's no other option, cherry," he groaned, and you took another hit.

haechan started laughing behind you, the vibrations travelling through his legs to your head. "you've got to go with johnny, cherry that's absolutely brilliant."

"fuck you, haechan," you spat, eyes locked onto johnny's. "why can't i do it with jungwoo?"

"he's a kim, he can't get away with that."

it was true. the kim's, despite many of them now turning to the crime world of neo city, used to be a very influential family. there was no way jungwoo could walk into the ball pretending to be someone else."

"and there's really no other way," you asked, desperation in your tone, taking another hit before haechan took it from your hands.

jisung wandered over to you. "come on, it's not that bad. johnny's supposedly a gentleman."

"ji, i love you, but there is no way johnny fucking suh is anything resembling a gentleman," you spat, making grabby hands towards haechan, wanting your cigarette back. "come on, hyuck, give."

"smoking's a vice, cherry."

"so's being a dick, give it back."

you could hear johnny tut, but chose to ignore it, instead trying to comprehend the situation. "can i get a makeover?"

haechan scoffed. "really? that's what you're after?"

"i'm just a girl, hyuck."

"yeah, she's just a girl," jaemin stirred, and you gave him a loving pat on the head.

johnny quickly checked his watch. "come on, we've got a fuck ton of backstory to get through."

"is there really no other option?"

"trust me, sweeheart. if there was, i would have found it."

and with that, you gently slid jaemin off your lap, placing a kiss on his forehead, before standing next to the tall man.

"come on then john. i need to get my nails done."

~~~

soft rnb music filled your apartment as the sun set over the skyscrapers, perched in front of your mirror as you carefully applied your eyeliner, ensuring they were equal either side. you had barely slept, spending the entire night with johnny and jungwoo, learning everything you would possibly have to know about the hwangs, and for a rich family in neo city, there was a fucking lot.

you had managed to convince taeyong to get allowance for your makeover, heading to the salon today to get a new set of nails, long and red to match your dress. your hair was in loose ringlets, fingers dripped in expensive rings, wrists the same with bracelets. a diamond hung around your neck, sitting way above your low cut dress. the hwangs were known for being scandalous, despite their quiet nature, so to fit the part, your dress was a low cut v, the back hollow crosses of loose satin, sitting halfway down your thigh.

with a swipe of lipgloss you were finished, packing a small clutch with perfume, lipbalm, and your gun. maybe the gun wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't blow your cover, so you though it better to be safe than sorry. half the people in neo city carried guns, and the other half walked with people who carried them/

you checked the time quickly. 5:57. johnny said he would be at your flat at 6, so you quickly checked through your phone. you had a few texts from mark, asking about the new show you guys had been watching, and a few from jungwoo, wishing you luck for tonight. it wasn't a scary thing anymore, you had done so many of these tasks that they felt like second nature. you were one of the few girls in nct that didn't mind going out, which made you incredibly useful for situations like this.

the doorbell rang just as you finished texting jungwoo, and you groaned, wandering through your kitchen before opening the door, seeing the man himself on the other side.

fuck. he actually looked good.

he was in a black tuxedo, bowtie tight around his neck. he was a tall man, that much was obvious, but with dress trousers he somehow look taller. his hair was in curtains, a deep brunette that hung just slightly over his eyes. not that you would ever say it out loud to him, but jesus fucking christ.

"you ready to go?" he asked, not even acknowledging your outfit.

you rolled your eyes. you knew you looked good, there was no way that he didn't realise how fucking good you looked. "nice to see you to. i just need to put my shoes on, calm down."

the set of red louboutin heels fit you perfectly, sliding into them with ease. you stumbled just after putting them on, but quickly grabbed your bag, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter off the table, before meeting him at the door.

"ready," you hummed, placing your key in the lock and shutting it behind you, before placing them in your bag.

he scoffed. "you really need the cigarettes?"

"you really need that terrible attitude?" you shot back, following him into the lift and pressing the ground floor button. you checked yourself out in the mirror, cleaning up the lipstick that had somehow escaped your lips.

"terrible habit," was his only reply, one that you didn't think needed a response, though you did notice the slight flick of his eyes to your boobs as you leant forwards slightly, an action that led to a smirk on your lips.

you quickly noticed that johnny's car outside, not a limo like you presumed. he seemed to notice your confusion as he deliberately didn't open the door for you, waiting for you to climb in yourself.

"ever the gentleman," you teased, watching as he started the engine, pulling away gently.

"we're driving to the oasis, that's where the limo is," he explained, not even given you a glance.

"why didn't you just ask me to walk to the oasis then?"

johnny scoffed. "like you would have walked through neo city in a slutty dress and high heels."

you flipped him off, but he did have a point. you would never do that anyway, least of all neo city. instead, you pulled out a cigarette, rolling down the window and lighting it, the bitter taste a comfort on your tongue.

"i'm serious when i say you shouldn't smoke."

"i'm serious when i say you have an attitude problem."

he rolled his eyes, eyes darting towards you as you tapped the ash onto the road. you could see the oasis in the distance, the familiar comfort of the bar calming you slightly. all you wanted right now was a drink, just a little bit to calm your nerves.

"fancy a shot?" johnny seemed to read your mind, pulling into the carpark quickly.

you both made your way into the building, the bustle quieting down as they noticed you and johnny walk in. you smiled as you saw jaemin behind the bar, the hangover evident in his eyes. his arms enveloping you in a tight hug.

jaemin was like a brother to you. he had taken you under his wing very quickly when you joined nct, but unlike a few of the other guys, he genuinely had no ulterior motives. he saw your beauty, understood why guys like haechan and jeno were so into you, but that just wasn't him. he was one of the few people you knew would always be there for you.

"fuck, cherry, you look gorgeous," he breathed out, and you planted a soft kiss against his cheek.

"thanks, jae. how's the hangover?" you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of tequila and two glasses, pouring two glasses for you and johnny.

he groaned. "how do you think? i am so sorry though, it should be me there right now."

jaemin had spent half the morning apologising over the phone, saying how you've taken his place and if only he hadn't drank so much. you appreciated his efforts, but you both knew you were more than able to do what needed to be done. despite all this, he paid for your lunch today, and that was a win.

"don't be stupid, besides now there's two of us going. even if one is practically incompetent."

johnny didn't like that, finishing the shot before turning to you. "watch yourself, sweetheart."

"bite me, john."

jaemin seemed to sense the tension, pouring you guys one more shot before leaving you to it. your rivalry was well known throughout nct, even some of the runners knew how much you loathed each other, and most people understood it was better to leave you guys to it, let you fight it out, and hope neither of you killed each other. or that whoever was your favourite made it out alive.

"you're insufferable, you know that," you spat, downing the second shot in quick succession, needing the alcohol to settle the violence in your gut.

"rich coming from you, can't even stand being in your presence."

"you're lying to yourself, suh. saw you checking me out in the mirror," you teased, leaning in closer to him.

he matched your energy, face bending down slightly saw your eyes were almost even. "i was not checking you out, i can assure you of that."

"tell yourself whatever you want, if it helps you sleep at night, but your eyes don't lie."

"half the guys in nct want you," johnny's voice was a low growl at this point, face so close to yours basically all you could see was him. "and do you know what? i don't fucking get it. you're a bitch-"

"lovely choice of words-"

"you think you rule the world, you think you're better than fucking everyone, but you're not. there is nothing special about you, and the sooner you realise that, the better."

"do you know what, suh?" you could feel the anger running through your veins, nails digging into your palms to stop yourself planting your fist into his face, leaving shallow crescents in your skin. "you think you're so smart, so precious. oh, johnny suh, johnny of nct, the johnny- no one can fucking stand you. god knows why taeyong keeps you around, half the young guys don't even want to know you- ever wonder why it's the same two guys who volunteer to be with you? because no one else even wants to be near you."

johnny opened his mouth, probably to insult you even further, smirk creeping onto his lips, but a notification on his phone went off, and he pulled away from you quickly.

"limo's here," was all he could say, and you pushed your anger back down inside you.

you were hwang yeji. be hwang yeji.

and ignore the weird feelings going on in your chest right now.

~~~

"hey, cherry, how's it going?" jungwoo asked, robotic voice over the phone as you pulled out a cigarette, locked in the guest bathroom at the mayor's house.

you sighed, taking a deep hit to calm your nerves. "all good so far, no one suspects anything. you and jae should be all good to hack the system come 12."

all jungwoo did was hum in response, and you hung up accordingly. you couldn't do anything suspicious at all, there was too much on the line. you took another hit, the smoke fogging the room as you took a moment.

you had spoken to about half the city elite, acting like the prestine proper girl you were supposed to be, but it was taking it's toll. you and johnny had been here for about four hours, and that was four hours too long of pretending to be enamoured by johnny suh. he was disgusting, hand settled in the small of your waist as he laughed at your occasional jokes, planting soft kisses into your hair.

it made you feel sick, sick to your core, sick enough that not even the cigarette was calming you down. johnny suh was an unbelievably irratating individual, one who made you genuinely revolted as his eyes locked on yours, and it took every morsel of self control not to announce to the whole room that you were hating every second of it, that you hated him.

you finished the cigarette, spraying some perfume in the bathroom before leaving the room, walking back over to your 'boyfriend'. he was with another two couples, not sure who, but he quickly introduced you as you slid under his arm, his hand resting against your side, thumb rubbing against your ribcage.

"this is hwang yeji, my girlfriend," god, how his voice made you feel ill. he sounded so in love, and the way his thumb felt against your body just added to it. some part of you felt confused, he definitely did not need to be doing so much, and yet he still was.

stop thinking about that. focus on what you need to be doing.

"yeji, my darling, gosh how you've grown," the woman, moon bora, planted a cheek on either cheek, hand cupping your jaw. "i bet you don't remember me, i haven't seen you since you went to boarding school."

"i know, it's been so long since i've been back here," you hummed, body tensing as johnny gently guided you over to a small table, where bora and her husband jinhyung followed you. he sat next to you, arm over the back of the chair, as you continued on the conversation. "i do miss it, yeah, though there are definetly benefits to living by the coast."

"oh, i can only imagine. do you get to go to the beach regularly, i know college can be quite intense," jinhyung asked, voice full of curiousity.

you went to respond, but your voice was a sharp choke as you felt johnny's hand on your thigh. "sorry, but no we do make time to go. it's beautiful in the morning, watching the sunrise over the ocean, it's really something."

bora and jinhyung kept their questions coming, and you could barely focus and johnny's fingers travelled higher and higher up your thigh, crawling underneath the silk of your dress, gently massaging the soft skin of your inner thigh. you squeezed his hand, a warning, a 'stop this', a 'what the fuck are you doing?'.

his hand got dangerously high, to the point where you could feel him just against the lace of your panties, before you heard an alarm on johnny's phone. 11:45. you needed to get a move on.

"god, i'm sorry," johnny broke the conversation, hand finally leaving your thigh to turn of the ringtone, "that's my medicine alarm. sweetheart, will you come with me to the bathroom to take it."

johnny excused himself, but you were convinced if you went with him now you would genuinely kill him. "let me just say my goodbyes, i'll meet you in a moment."

he shot you a look, but you gave him one back, and he dropped it. you turned back to the couple, with bora giving you a knowing look.

"gosh, you guys are so in love," she sung, and you resisted the urge to spit out your drink. "it reminds me of us when we were younger."

you smiled at her, lying through clenched teeth. "i'm glad you can tell, he's honestly incredible."

"don't think i didn't notice the way you were flirting under the table," she gave you a suggestive wink, and you swore then and there you were going to kill johnny. "young love, how much i miss it?"

you couldn't wait any longer to kill him, so you quickly excused yourself, and travelled through the mansion, past the toilet to the computer room, in charge of the entire house's security, one you had previously mapped out in the planning stages.

"what the fuck?!" you exclaimed, entering the room where johnny was sat on a desk, laptop open with a download completing sign on the front. you locked the door behind you, securing it with a desk you pulled across the front. "what the actual fuck?!"

johnny payed no attention to you, keeping his eyes on the laptop as the percentage went up and up.

"fucking answer me you dick, what's your game?" rage coated your voice, your hands gripping his dress shirt and pulling him out of the chair, forcing him up looking at you.

"whatever do you mean, sweetheart?" he cooed, and the fake loving tone drove you crazy, crazy enough that you brought your hand up to slap him across the cheek.

the action through him back, surprise across his face quickly turning to anger. "you have issues, fuck."

"i have issues?!" you were seething, anger clouding your vision and your hand gripped his shirt tighter, pulling his head down so you were opposite him again. "you've been touching me all night, fucking groping my thigh, grazing my waist, are you mental?"

"do you not understand the concept of fake dating, sweetheart?" his voice was low and dangerous and, however much you wouldn't admit it to yourself, sexy as fuck. "we have to pretend to date-"

"dating does not include groping me."

"i didn't fucking grope you, calm down cherry," johnny sighed, and you pushed him away ever so slightly.

your hand ran down his body, tracing a line down the centre of his abs, watching his muscles contract as they tensed under your touch. "so this doesn't bother you?"

"not in the slightest," he tried to keep it calm, but the way his breathing shortened told you the opposite.

but you kept going, you were fucking fuming. "so if i touch you here," you hand trailed further down, running over the waistband of his trousers, your long nail circling around the hem, "that doesn't bother you."

"fucking stop," he ordered through gritted teeth, but of course you didn't instead keeping your descent until you were over were he did not want you to be, pushing just enough to push johnny over the edge.

and he snapped.

his hands came to grab your wrists, his physical strength easily overpowering yours as he pushed you up against the wall behind you, vaging you against the wall, the paint cold against your open backed dress. your hands were pinned above your head, and legs forced still by johnny's thigh in between your own, body pressed up against yours.

"i thought i told you," he spat, mouth so close he genuinely filled all your senses, "to fucking stop."

you hadn't lost your fight yet, though. "i thought you knew, that what you say means nothing to me."

"do you know what you are?"

"please, do enlighten me," you fought against his grip, but you couldn't escape. johnny was told and strong, and however much fight you had, you could not beat that.

"you're a slut."

those words were unexpected, causing you to gasp as they went straight to your gut, weird butterflies emerging in your chest.

"you're such a fucking slut. act all you want but i saw how your body acted when my hands were on you, when i looked at you like that. like a bitch in fucking heat."

you were genuinely gobsmacked. no words could come out of your mouth to defend yourself.

"but do you know what, sweetheart?" his teasing was endless, however, not letting up despite your lack of retaliation. "i think you like this, i think you like me calling you what you are. a desperate little whore-"

"i don't," you're voice was nowhere near as strong as you wished it would be, because deep down you knew he was right. the butterflies in your stomach were definetly telling you that you were enjoying this, and the way your core was aching.

"tell that to your thighs squeezing around mine," his lips were centimetres away, "because i've realised what you need. you need someone to put you in your place, to remind you of what you are. a needy, desperate, slutty little bitch, don't you sweetheart?"

all you could do was whine at his words, your hips rutting against his knee without even thinking. his words were doing wonders, you could feel how soaked you were without him even really touching you.

"grinding against my fucking thigh, you really are a bitch in heat," he practically scoffed, a hand travelled down from your wrists to wrap around your neck, squeezing enough to cut off your airflow slightly, the feeling making your head spin and vision dizzy.

"i know you've fucked hyuck," he stated the words so nonchalantly, like they weren't personal details you had never told him, "and i know you've fucked jeno. i'm pretty sure you've fucked jaemin as well, but they obviously didn't fuck you good enough for you to still have this attitude, huh, sweetheart?"

you couldn't fathom the words to respond, overwhelmed by the pleasure between your legs. your breathing got shallower and shallower and your air was cut more and more, rings indefinetly causing dents against your soft skin. johnny tensed his thigh, and you couldn't hold back the whine that escaped your mouth, the feeling just too good as your clit rubbed against the fabric of his trousers.

he could only scoff, his hand dropping your wrists and instead sliding down to your hip, kneading the skin as he manouvered your body, sitting down and pulling you down onto his lap, or more specifically his thigh. he finally let go of your throat, grabbing the other side of your hip, and you let out deep breaths, trying to gain back some sense of clarity.

"if you want to be a pathetic little thing," his tone was almost teasing, his large hands beginning to rock you back and forth, "then go ahead. get yourself off on my thigh."

and you followed his instructions, swinging your hips and getting into a steady rhythm. johnny's eyes dropped to where your body met his own, one hand sliding under the soft satin of your dress and feeling the lace panties you had on underneath.

"god, you're dripping, you're actually dripping against your thigh," he practically laughed, your wetness sticky on his fingers as he pushed the lace to the side, and the pleasure was just too much to contain, a moan leaving your lips. "shut the fuck up, cherry. don't want anyone to see how much of a whore for my thigh you're being right now."

you dived into his shoulder, biting down on his jacket to stop the sounds he was practically forcing from your throat. his hands sped up your pace, forced you to keep going as you felt the knot tighten in your gut.

you panted out, the sound of your wetness filling the room as he leant up, looking into his eyes with a sense of desperation. "gonna cum, john, need to cum."

"oh, you need to cum, do you?" he sneered, leaning back against the desk chair, feeling a sense of gravity as he watched the girl he hates fall apart on his thigh. "you need to cum."

"need it- need it so bad," you whined, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

johnny tilted his head, a mischevious glint in his eye. "stop moving."

"what?" you panted, confused by his words but not stopping your movements. "no, no, i'm so close."

"i don't care, stop fucking moving," he spat through gritted teeth and his lifted you off his thigh, your hips moving in mid-air as you groaned, feeling the pleasure leave your body as your high left your body.

your eyes locked onto his, tongue poking your cheek. "what the fuck!"

"needy sluts like you don't get to cum," he said as if it was the most obvious thing ever, sliding back from the chair and spreading his legs, placing you down on the floor. you didn't even have the strength to hold yourself up anymore, collapsing against his leg, the cold concrete floor a shock to the system.

however much you hated to admit it, johnny looked majestic. with his legs spread, eyes glaring down at you, hair messy as his tongue ran over his bottom lip. you couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that worried you. you were on your knees in front of the man you hated, and for whatever reason you were actually excited about what was going to happen next.

johnny didn't say anything, but his actions spoke a thousand words, his hands going to his belt and undoing it with ease. you felt your mouth water as he slid his trousers down, revealing his hardening cock from his underwear. you leant forward, hands ready to grab it, but one of his own hands nestled itself in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulled you back.

"here's what's going to happen, sweetheart," he shuffled forward on the seat, tempting you to just have a look. you could tell from the bulge that he was big, and all you wanted at this point was your mouth around him.

god, how were you having these feelings about johnny suh.

"you're gonna let me fuck your face like the slut that you are," your thighs rubbed together as he returned to the degrading words, "and then i'll decide whether you deserve to cum."

his other hand pulled his now hard cock out of his pants, and your eyes widened at the sight. he was big, he was so fucking big, and there was no way that he could fuck your throat without cutting off your air supply.

"john, i can't-"

"you can, just open that slutty little mouth for me," his tip poked against your lips, and you complied, hesistantly parting your lips as he slid between them, the stretch agony at first. "there you go, relax your throat. don't want to hurt you that much, cherry."

those words were different, they were softer in a way. they were johnny being sincere, not 'putting you in your place' or 'teaching you a lesson'. and they relaxed you, enough that he slid even more into your mouth, tears building in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"god, you have no idea how good that feels," he groaned, seemingly not to you, but just to the world. "tap my thigh if i'm good to move."

you followed his order, typing his thigh twice before he started to move back and forth. you tried your absolute hardest not to gag around him but it was so hard when he was practically stopping you from breathing, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you physically had to gag around him.

johnny hummed, a pity hum, seemingly back to his old self. "what's wrong? thought you would be used to dick in your throat."

you took a deep breath as he pulled out, gasping for air as drool dripped down your chin, his dick hanging in front of you.

"don't tell me hyuck never fucked that pretty little face of yours?" he voice was playful, hand sliding from your throat to cup your jaw, thumb roughly dragging over your bottom lip. "look at how messy you are, sloppy little slut."

you took a deep breath, looking up at the tall man towering over you. "they weren't as big as you."

"aww," his tone was so patronising that if you weren't so dick whipped you would have slapped that expression off his face, "am i too big for you?"

you didn't resond, feeling like you were stuck in a trap, but that wasn't good enough for johnny. "i said, am i too big for you? because if you can't suck me off, you haven't done enough to cum tonight."

those words went straight to your desperate core, and you leant straight back to his dick, letting him back in as he pounded even harder and faster than before. you braced it, trying your hardest not to gag around him again. johnny's groans filled the room, and you just prayed you were doing well enough to get to cum later.

sa johnny's thrusts began to get more sporadic, he pulled out, hand leaving your head to jerk himself off. "open your mouth, tongue out."

you did as he said, sticking your tongue as you patiently awaited his cum, eyes glaring up at him as he kept his wrist moving at a quick speed.

"god, you're such a fucking slut, aren't you?" his words were said between low grunts and groans, obviously needed to get him over the edge. "tongue stuck out, drooling over my cock, thighs squeezing together at the idea of getting my cum in your mouth. fuck- cherry- fuck-"

and with that he came, most of it landing straight on your tongue, the salty taste filling your mouth. a small bit coated your lips instead, but johnny was quick to scrape that onto your tongue as well, before leaning down and spitting in your mouth. his saliva mixed with his cum as he barked out a 'swallow', and you did as he said. the action was so dirty, so vulgar, he was treating you like a messy, slutty object, and for whatever reason you were loving it.

"you did good, sweetheart," he cooed, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone, "i guess now it's your turn."

his hands settled under your shoulders, pulling you up from the group and back onto his lap, this time legs over his hips as you collapsed against his chest. you were fucking exhausted, head pounding from the pleasure coarsing through your veins. you could only imagine how you looked right now - mascara undoubtably smudged from the tears dropping from your eyes, lipstick removed from your lips and displaced onto your cheeks and chin, hair no longer its perfect ringlets and instead messy curls.

"god, you're still so fucking wet," he almost gasped, pad of his middle finger drawing a line through your folds. you could almost hear his actions, the squelching of your wetness deafening as your cheeks reddened with embarassment, your face hiding in his shoulder. "i bet you're so fucking sensitive- ah, yes you are."

your hips bucked as his finger pushed against your clit, so worked up from the lack of your last orgasm that you barely needed anything to become putty in his hands. he chuckled as he kept up his pace, other hand settled on your hip, rubbing up and down as you whined into his shoulder.

"still so needy, i wonder what would happen if i just...?" and with those words, a finger entered your pussy, curling up against that spot inside of you that caused your entire body to tense. "god, you're so fucking tight, would have thought this slutty cunt would be more used to cock than this, don't know how i'm ever going to fit."

you couldn't even understand the words coming out of his mouth. your orgasm was approaching so much faster due to how sensitive you were. and when he added another finger, the stretch just adding to the euphoria you were feeling, he could tell you were close. you just begged he would actually let you come this time.

but of course, he didn't. pulling them both out of you when you started to clench around him, and the denying pleasure for the second time made you absolutely crazy. your body was drained, completely drained of energy, and you didn't know how much more you could take.

"please," you sounded pathetic, most likely looked pathetic, and all you wanted was to cum. you sounded like the desperate whore he made you out to be, but at this point you couldn't even dispute it. "i can't take it, please."

johnny hums, as if considering your proposition, but really he knew your time was up. "need me to fuck you, sweetheat?"

"need you, john," you panted, using the last of your strength to push yourself up off his chest, to finally look him in the eyes, "please, wanna feel you in me."

that was all he needed, grabbing your hips and aligning you with his cock, and you were suddenly very aware of the position you were both in. there was absolutely no way you could ride him, you were far too out of it for that, but the way you were sat on top of him meant you couldn't think of another option.

but of course johnny was prepared, grabbing onto your hips and completely controlling your movements, sinking you down onto his cock for him and oh my god was he big. your mouth unknowingly feel into an 'o' shape with the stretch, feeling so so good as he bottomed out completely.

"pussy feels so good wrapped around me," johnny groaned, moving your hips up and down for you, so you were riding him without having to do any work. "dripping all over my cock, aren't you, my pretty little whore."

you couldn't even process the fact that he had called you both 'his' and 'pretty', instead trying not to scream and alert the entire house of the fact that you were locked in a room that you were definetly not meant to be in. your orgasm was incredibly fast approaching, the knot getting so unbelievably tight as you clenched around johnny.

"gonna cum, gonna cum," you repeated it like a mantra, until you heard a voice just outside the room. your hand flung to your mouth instantly, biting down on the flesh to stop any sound you were making.

johnny kept going though, despite the glares you were shooting him, to the point where you had to slap his chest in an attempt to stop him.

"fucking stop," your voice was a whisper, as quiet as you could muster while you could still hear voices outside. "i'm serious."

"you want to cum, don't you?" he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and there weren't people outside who would definitely kill you if they found anything out. "so just keep quiet, and then you'll get what you want."

so you tried your hardest not to make a single sound, but johnny's pace was relentless, pounding into you at an angle that hit such a good spot inside of you, and you had to bite down into your hand to stop yourself moaning as you released all over his dick, the feeling so much better after your denied orgasms earlier.

but johnny kept going, still chasing his second orgasm, and you just let him use you as he thrusted up, soft grunts after every buck. "gonna let me cum inside of you, like the whore you are?"

"yes, please," you didn't even know what you were saying anymore, now chasing your own second orgasm while the voices outside grew louder and louder. "want your cum, johnny."

"of course you do, fucking slut," he spat, through gritted teeth, "i can feel you clenching around me, you close again? am i fucking this messy pussy so good that you're gonna cum again?"

you nodded against his skin, and you both came at the same time, and the feeling of him filling you up was the cherry on top of this entire experience. you couldn't move, you felt numb with pleasure as johnny lifted you off his softened dick, placing you on the chair as he ran over to the laptop, and a smile creeped onto his face.

"download complete," he smiled, voice low as possible, "let's get out of here, cherry."

you span around in the chair, looking at him like he was stupid, becuase that's how he was acting. "there's people outside, dumbass."

"then we'll have to climb out the window," he spoke in the same stupidly obvious tone, and you actually accepted his suggestion. you could see jungwoo's car from here, and a quick dash would mean no one would see your escape. "come on, let's go."

you tried to stand up, but your legs gave up straight away, causing you to collapse straight back into the chair. johnny chuckled slightly. "i fuck you that good, huh?"

"you mention anything that happened tonight ever again i will kill you, i promise you," you swore, voice low and serious.

johnny tilted his head. "so you didn't just beg for me to come inside of-"

"just carry me out of here," you snapped, and he oblidged, arms behind your shoulders and knees and he walked through the floor to ceiling windows, and wandered through to where jungwoo was parked.

"never mention it again," you repeated, "tonight never happened."

"tonight never happened," he agreed, but turned to look at you again, "but you better drop that attitude, cherry."

"or what?"

"or i'll have to fuck it out of you again."

[circeyoru]

Darkest Confession _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Serial Killer Enthusiast!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

You’d say that it was a joke if you didn’t see those eyes and that smile. You’re not obsessed and addicted to serial killers without knowledge. No. You could only keep this self of you that hidden because you adapted some skills these serial killers use to blend in and be ‘normal’ like theyy haven’t killed, only you use it to hide your interest

You were attracted to serial killers, now there’s one that was holding you, presumably in his hunting and killing ground, confessing his love(?) to you and wanted to court you. Though the biggest question you had was, “Why did you confess?”

“My dear dear unusual soul, my feelings for you are like a raging ocean. What started as mere interest became fondness. Even now,” Alastor’s grin widened as his eyes narrowed to make way, “You have that spark in your eyes instead of fear. I love that about you. I love you.”

Was it Christmas or your birthday? Or was this April Fool’s? All in one? It was no sick joke. Alastor jokes and all, but this was a serious matter

This had to be your luck all put into one. Not only was he the serial killer that held your interest the longest, but you also cared for his civilian self. The previous killers that held your interest was over once the case was over or once you had figured them out from every perspective. Maybe it was because Alastor was the one killer that you connected as a person?

The tightened hold of your smaller hands brought you back to reality, your killer was waiting for your response. “My darling, your answer? May I court you? Will you be mine and in turn I yours?”

“Yes, you may.” Your voice came out firmer than your current rush of emotions. You hardly caught yourself when Alastor got up in the blink of an eye and twirled you around, dancing with you under the moonlight as he sang you a train of petnames and how he was glad there’d be no drastic measures taken to receive your interest

Changes were made, namely you had Alastor’s attention a lot more than the unspoken meet-ups you two shared. He’d be at your place, waiting for you by the door with a bouque of flowers and a poem to woo you, he’d back you home when you were done with work, all that romantic stuff. It had the jealous fans at a frenzy as they watched from somewhere or happened to see it

Though, you weren’t complaining

“Filthy thing, you better say away from Alastor! We’re destined for each other! You break of with him if you know what’s good for you! I’d kill you for him!” You merely keep your face neutral as you listened to the death threats, please, words are cheap and actions. Actions speak louder than words

“Darling! Sorry to kept you waiting!” Alastor burst through the front door with a smile, beaming happily like always, but more. You waved it off, saying you didn’t wait long. You had been sitting in the living room enjoying tea with a book on dissection, you recall Jack the Ripper had those skills. “Come, dear, I have something to show you.”

He’d lead you down a well hidden staircase to a soundproof basement, holding your hand like a gentleman so you wouldn’t trip from the darkness. He playfully covered your eyes, saying it was s surprise gift. You half joked if he was leading you to a room prepared to be your torture chamber to which he replied, “Oh heavens no! I wouldn’t even dream of it, dear. Your beauty is not to be locked up in this dingy place.”

When he finally removed his hand, he showed you with jazz hands at your gift

Alastor watched like a hawk. He debetted whether or not he should show something like this to you. But your case files you stored like precious family heirloom proved him otherwise. You weren’t afraid of blood and gore. He even once tested it when he brought you back into the forest, showing you how he hunted his favourite prey, deers. You were watching intensely as he cut the shot deer up, even whispering if that was how he did with his other prey

Your keen and observant eyes would catch onto details like no other. A skill even he couldn’t match to your degree and he considered and was praised for his preciseness. It was a skill you kept to yourself, you explained that’s why you’d return to previous crime scenes or where the bodies were found, because you’d find some clues that were missed

“Why didn’t you tip the authorities?” He remember asking when you added that you never phone the police even when finding something very very incrimadating. You answer saying you didn’t want to, you knew good and bad, right and wrong. It was right to tell the police, but it felt wrong for you to betray your interest, that being serial killers and their art. He fell for you all over again

However, he didn’t like that you gave so much of your time and energy to other serial killers. Sure now he had you, what if there was someone more interesting and you turn to that instead of him like you are doing now? He was lucky that he was the first serial killer you met during active moments. Hell, you were lucky you were never preyed upon

“There was one time where I tracked an active serial killer to his place. I was knocked out before I could investigate more. When I woke up, I was tied up and he wanted my eyes, wanted me to feel the pain and agony while I was tortured.” Oh how furious when he hear that but continued to listen. “As much as it’s a dream to be killed by a serial killer, I wasn’t feeling that ‘spark’ with that one and I escaped. After that, I phoned the authorities anonymously.”

“Why was he different? Won’t you feel like a betrayal?”

That look in your eyes when you remarked, it sent him a shiver while his smile widened at your words. “He wasn’t ‘the one’ and I didn’t like him. I look into every serial killer and he falls short. Can’t let him dirty my collection, so I had to put him out of his work.” When your eyes met him, there was interest and something more, “Have I told you your case is the most interesting and loving by far. There’s actually that ‘spark’ that I never felt before.”

That was it. He knew you were the one. The one for him. And him the one for you

Oh, how his blood boiled when some fan of his threatened for you to leave him. “This piece of flesh had the audacity to threaten the love of my life. My dear, my gift for you, is her life.”

You feel your face heat up as Alastor smiled brightly at you. As morbid as it was, you, a normal person off the streets, caught the attention of a serial killer that just so happened to hold your obsession and addiction for the longest time. Even having you to care and love him like a lover. Well, your family would be happy you have a lover, just not one they wanted you to have

Alastor hated physical touches unless he initiated it, but you were his exception to a lot of things. You ran up and hugged him, planting a kiss on his lips, a gesture he melted into and returned ten fold as the seconds passed

So this was love? A twisted and dark love

As Alastor got to work, you stood at a safe and suitable distance away to observe and note down everything. You wanted Alastor to be in his serial killer zone without outside interruptions. You wanted him to be in his element without a worry

This was the change you love and wouldn’t complain. You merely wish you met him sooner, so you didn’t have to waste your time and energy, as Alastor would phase it, on other unworthy serial killers

But all good things must come to an end. You were diagnosed with an incurable disease. Alastor used his fame and wealth to find you the best doctors and gave you the best treatment, yet you were getting no better with time. You didn’t have long to live and both of you can’t stand for that. The two of you were about to get married and everything would be all the more better!

“Love.” Alastor held your hand, the other held his signature weapon. “My Muse, are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled up at him innocently. It was a request before you were killed by something you’d regret and detest. No way were you dying from that. “Please, show me your first hunt.”

Out of nowhere, Alastor took out a hunting knife and jabbed it into the side of your stomach, it didn’t hit any major organs or blood vessels. You instantly fell back, immediately gripping onto your side to keep the blood loss at a minimum. You looked up to Alastor, the loving look changed

“My father was my first prey. I stabbed him like so.” Alastor explained, then he pointed his shotgun in your face, “And then I gave him hope that he can escape.”

You kicked the gun out of his hold and got up, running deeper into the forest. A gunfire rang behind you and pain came to your left shoulder. You hit into a tree when your right ankle was shot through. Stumbling into the ground as everything became blurry. When you came too, the barrel of the gun was once again in your face

“I caught up to him and I did to you now.” Alastor narrated. “And fired.”

“And that was our love story.” You sighed dreamily as you finished the last of your tea, putting it down on your saucer. “Married and happy~”

The members of the hotel all stared at you with horrided looks, save for Niffty as she seemed to be taking notes for her own bad boy catching.

“But he killed you!” Vaggie exclaimed.

“I asked him too! He rejected it so many times that I loss count! Well, not really, but you get the idea.” You mused as you snapped your fingers, making a tea pot appear and refill your cup. Sipping it with grace and a small smile. “It’s my dream to be killed by a serial killer, you see, but none gave me that spark like Alastor. Honestly,” You lowered your tea, staring into the surface of the liquid to see your own reflection, you don’t understand what ‘look in your eye’ you got like Alastor does, “I’m forever grateful that Alastor made the first move to confess. Else I’d never have such a fulfilling life!”

Angel gave you a disgusted look, “That’s messed up on so many levels.”

Static came as pressure built in the room, while you sat comfortably in your seat, drinking your tea. The shadows twisted and rose to form your darling husbands enraged with radio dials for eyes and voodoo symbols around him. “Dear Angel, what did you say about my darling wife’s words?”

Angel hide behind Charlie and Vaggie as he peeked his head out, looking into your direction as if to beg for your help. 

You smiled, “He means messed up in a good way. You need to keep up with the modern terms, love.”

Alastor snapped to you, his demonic aura all gone as he took your hand and kissed it like it would break with the slightest force. “And forget the wonderful time when we met? Never.”

Note: Hehe, added a bit of more formal writing for the ending. That's what I usually write in, this bullet-point format is new to me but very fast to write everything I want with limited time~ (⚈ᴥ⚈)

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

Taglist: (the people who wanted a part 2 for this)

@suya-x-syx

@speedycoffeedelight

@just-here-reading

[wandaromanova]

obvious

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Wednesday-level threats, that’s about it

A/N: hello! this is bad but it was fun to write. as always, not proofread cause i’m lazy. happy reading <3

anon requested: Reader and Wednesday are dating and reader is super affectionate; always kissing Wednesday’s cheeks, holding her hands, and just generally being physical like that. Reader doesn’t really think much about it until Enid mentions one day how surprised she is Wednesday let’s reader perform so much pda. Which makes reader suddenly stop. (Wednesday notices this ofc and is like “wtf???? Why did you stop?”)

Summary: Things aren’t as obvious as they seem, for both you and your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Word Count: 2.1K words | wednesday masterlist

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

The entire student body was shocked when word of your relationship with Wednesday Addams spread across Nevermore.

You were outgoing and friendly while the Addams was intimidating and unapproachable. The two of you were an unlikely duo, the epitome of opposites attract.

It was remarkable to those around you, how the goth girl who hated being touched would let you hug her and live to see the next day.

The sight of Wednesday visibly relaxing in your hold was a stark contrast to the tenseness that permeated throughout her body whenever someone brushed their shoulder against hers in passing. 

Although the affectionate gestures were offputting to others, it was second nature for you.

Not once had you considered the fact that Wednesday loved to keep people at arms-length and then some.

In your mind, she was just your other half, and with touch being your love language, it only made sense. 

That was until Enid brought it to your attention. 

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

It was an average day in the quad, your boisterous classmates scattered throughout the open area when you walked up to the table that you always sat at.

Wednesday’s back was toward you, so you took the opportunity to sneak up on her.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you kissed her cheek quickly before settling in the seat beside her, as your backpack hit the floor. 

The Addams turned her head toward you, staring at you impassively. You failed to notice the tiniest hint of a blush that graced her cheeks. Wednesday was grateful for your obliviousness. 

“Do you have a death wish?” She questioned monotonously as you gave her a wide smile.

“Yeah, only by your hands though,” you responded easily, sending her a wink before turning your attention to the bubbly blonde sitting across from you. 

“Hey Y/N, how’s your day been so far?” Enid smiled at you widely as she awaited your response, taking a bite of her sandwich which she chewed lazily.

“It’s been alright, but it's even better now that I’m here with my favorite girl… and Wednesday,” you laughed with Enid at your own joke before cringing as the girl beside you jabbed her elbow into your side.

The werewolf found the action even more amusing, her giggles increasing tenfold.

Your eyes met Wednesday’s as she glared at you, silently warning you to retract your statement. 

“Aw Wens, you know I’m kidding. You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you interlocked your fingers with hers under the table, bringing your conjoined hands up to your lips, placing gentle kisses on each of her pale knuckles. 

Her eyes raked over your features in thought, before abruptly standing up.

“Where are you going? Did I upset you?” You worriedly looked up at her as she let go of your hand, scared that you offended her. 

“It’s foolish of you to think inane words would disrupt my psyche. I have a Hummer meeting to attend,” Wednesday said, shrugging her backpack on.

“Come to my dorm tonight,” the raven-haired girl stared down at you, adjusting her blazer that crinkled slightly from her movements.

“Okay, but why?” You asked curiously, head tilting to the side. The action made Wednesday’s heart flutter, but she would never say that out loud.

“Enid needs help with her psychology homework,” she nonchalantly replied, so caught up in observing you that she forgot the werewolf was even present. 

Wednesday was quickly reminded when you turned your attention to the blonde. 

“You do? I thought you said the class was easy,” your eyebrows furrowed together, further evidence of your cluelessness.

You missed the threatening glare your partner sent Enid’s way.

“Uh… yeah I lied. I’m actually really struggling and need your help, pretty please,” Enid’s eyes fluttered back and forth between you and Wednesday, a nervous smile on her lips. 

Luckily, you didn’t question it and agreed to assist her.

And with that, Wednesday left without another word, your eyes glued to her retreating form with a small smile on your face.

God, you loved her.

“You two are so cute it’s actually disgusting,” Enid dramatically grimaced at the lovestruck look on your face. You smirked at her, a teasing glint in your eyes. 

“Please, like you and Ajax don’t act all lovey-dovey when you’re together,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the wolf, taking the tray of food Wednesday had left on the table and eating it yourself.

“Yeah, but with Ajax and I, it’s not unusual for us to show some PDA. You and my roomie on the other hand, it’s shocking but in a good way,” she clarified before taking another bite of her sandwich as you processed what she said.

“Why is our PDA shocking?” Confusion was plastered across your features, Enid staring at you like you’d asked the stupidest question to ever be spoken.

“Wednesday hates being touched. It took me forever to get a hug from her, and I live with her! It’s a miracle she lets you touch her at all, let alone in public.”

Silence took over as you sat in thought, mindlessly picking at the food you no longer had an interest in eating. Enid was right.

Wednesday always made it clear that affection was something she despised. Perhaps you got excited by the euphoria of being with the girl you love, letting it cloud your judgment. 

Surely your girlfriend would have mentioned if your advances made her uncomfortable, right?

Your mind was swimming as the bell rang, indicating the end of the lunch period.

In a trance, you stood up, said goodbye to Enid, and walked to class. Before you even made it through the door to botany, you’d come to your conclusion.

You’ll give Wednesday the space she didn’t ask for.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

Wednesday was completely and utterly flabbergasted. For the past week, you’ve been different. Your personality around her was intact, but there was something severely lacking; physical contact.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday was at a loss. 

The goth girl recalled every interaction she had with you prior to the sudden change, but her efforts to rationalize your behavior were fruitless. 

Wednesday detested how the circumstance got under her skin like parasites.

Her thoughts were plagued with you, even more so than usual. Writing became an insurmountable feat that she failed to overcome.

She felt pathetic, not finishing the chapter of her novel that she was so close to completing. 

The raven-haired girl cursed her father in these fleeting moments. She simply must have inherited this pitiful need for her lover from the man. It was his fault that now, she resembled a lovesick buffoon. 

It was agonizing to be so close to you, but feel so far. 

Wednesday normally found your obliviousness endearing, but now she wants to commit every single degree of murder because of it.

Each lunch period, she would sit beside you, hoping for some semblance of comfort she so desperately craved, but to no avail. Even when she put her pride aside, she was literally left empty-handed.

How did you not notice her hand resting on her thigh, wide open for the taking? How did you not notice the astronomical distance between your bodies?

How could you ignore her ice-cold cheeks, desperate for the warmth of your lips to paint them with color?

The old Wednesday would ridicule this newfound version of herself. However, you changed her.

Whether it was for better or for worse, well that was a debate the goth girl had during times like this.

She shamefully reduced herself to obvious pining for the sake of having you close.

So… why weren’t you taking any of her hints?

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

It was obvious Wednesday didn’t want you near her. 

Ever since you decided to give your girlfriend space, all she has done is look at you. She made no moves to initiate contact, just staring at you with emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. 

Admittedly, your mission was not an easy one. It took every fiber of your being to keep from holding your girlfriend’s hand or brushing away strands of hair that managed to escape her tight braids.

You felt as though you were punishing yourself, positive that you were the only one suffering.

However, your outlook changed the day Wednesday came knocking at your door.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

You were sat at your desk, back hunched over as you scribbled some notes down. You’d been in your dorm all day, declining the offers of your friends to head into Jericho. 

It was a Saturday and while everyone was hoping the day would never end, you wanted it to end faster.

Your study session came to a halt when three resounding knocks came from your door.

You smiled to yourself, knowing who was on the other side waiting for you. You stood up from your chair, groaning as you stretched your arms out.

When you swung the door open, you were met with Wednesday glaring daggers at you.

The Addams pushed her way into your room, not giving you the chance to greet her. 

Bewildered, you shut the door and turned to face your storm-cloud of a girlfriend.

She was standing in the middle of your room, dawning her checkered sweater that was slightly oversized and some black sweatpants.

She was so adorable even though she looked like she was gonna kill you right now.

“Well, hello to you too Wens,” you said sarcastically, accompanied by a playful roll of your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” Wednesday probed, blunt and to the point as always.

If looks could kill, you would be decomposed.

“The real question is; what isn’t wrong with me? Yanno what I mean?” you rubbed the back of your neck, giggling out of fear for your well-being.

“Did I do something to offend you?” The raven-haired girl’s tone was firm, a trace of concern mixed in.

“Of course, not. You did nothing wrong. Why would you think that?” You took a few steps closer to the girl but made sure to leave room between the two of you.

Wednesday’s eyes focused on everything but you as she let out a deep sigh. Despite being a writer, she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

Oh, the irony.

“You have not been close to me all week. I demand to know why,” the Addams tried to keep her composure, but the little shake in her voice was a dead giveaway to her nervousness.

You were taken aback by her words, shock evident on your face before it was quickly replaced by a look of utter confusion. 

Honestly, when were you not confused? 

“I know you don’t like to be touched, so I thought space was what you wanted,” you said, sincerity dripping from your tone like honey.

Wednesday blankly stared as you shuffled in place, an indication of your anxiousness.

“You’re correct. I hate being touched by other people, but you’re not other people, mon cher,” her gaze softened, taking two steps closer to you.

Her hand cupped your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut, the coolness of her skin sending electricity throughout your body.

”You’re the exception,” Wednesday whispered quietly, like she didn’t want anyone but you to hear. She was so close you could feel her breath on your lips.

There was no time for you to respond before the girl pressed her lips to your own. 

You reveled in the feeling of her soft lips, your breath taken away at the tenderness of it all. Your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her as close as you possibly could.

When air became an issue, you reluctantly pulled away.

Your forehead connected to hers, basking in the silence and Wednesday’s presence. A beat passed before you opened your eyes, reluctantly pulling back to stare at the girl.

“I’m sorry, Wens. I won’t distance myself ever again,” you mumbled, head still in the clouds from the most passionate kiss you and the Addams ever shared.

“It was idiotic of you to do so in the first place,” she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah… well, Enid reminded me you aren’t the affectionate type. So, I-,” your sentence was cut short as your girlfriend interrupted you.

“She will die a slow and painful death,” Wednesday spoke apathetically, pecking your cheek before moving out of your grasp, much to your dismay.

“Where are you going?” You whined, already missing your girlfriend’s touch.

“To kill Enid,” she responded casually, twisting the doorknob and walking out.

You laughed to yourself, knowing her threat was an empty one.

The werewolf was one of the few people your girlfriend tolerated. Wednesday would never hurt Enid…right?

Your eyes widened, bolting out of your dorm to save your best friend from your murderous other half.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

[fulltacs]

fuck it. free the blocklist.

tw for ableism, death threats, cw for general rage-inducing behavior

this is not exhaustive, this is a starting point. BLOCK these people, do not interact.

- literally anyone who interacts with @/ladygoth at this point. I don’t doubt that she and her friends are responsible for at least half of the hate anons received by darkfic writers

- as for the people who were “protecting” codslut/Myka… they’ve all been in my notifs liking my update post and un-liking sheheals post and deleting anything they might’ve said on the situation. yay, I guess. I may have unblocked you, but the other nosy people following everything certainly didn’t.

- on a related note, anyone who goes by “Myka” or “Hannah” gets blocked ON SIGHT (half-joking). I don’t care if that’s your name (please don’t put your real name on the internet) you better make up a new one 😤

- /bookobsessedram, /mothymunson, @starry-eyedblog , /ghostsbimbo, @ghostlywhiskey and @ghostly-whiskey, /angelofacidx, and @ladyxtiger were all involved in being assholes in the discord as seen here. not pictured: /bjornthebearguy and someone going by “spiders” in the server (not to be confused with /notspiders, my bad). and i’m sorely disappointed in /bunnyreaper, as mod, for letting them continue to chase people off, even though it had been brought to their attention before.

AND ESPECIALLY @simonrillleyyysss and @simonrillleyyyysss2 and @joostyklein (all their known alts). As a matter of fact, fuck everyone who’s friends with them (including /konigsblog). Jordi, G***, whatever the fuck you’re going by, I am so fucking sick of seeing your name in my DMs. So many people messaged me to say it was you and your gang’s hateful behavior that drove them away from the fandom, and I can vouch for some of them because I was there the whole time. What the fuck is wrong with you guys. I have a hard time believing your apology means ANYTHING when you used the discord to lead a brigade on Bo back in January, and CLEARLY HAVEN’T STOPPED being an asshole since then (“I still don’t like soapskneebrace either way”). Bo and Madi were not your only victims, again, there were quite a few others who came forward. You bullied anyone who disagreed with you and at the end of the day you only care about your follower count.

The craziest part is that most of the people we watched you bully are open about their autism diagnosis. And this was just a casual observation I made, not even an accusation, but five minutes later you make your first-ever very casual not-at-all-sus claim of having autism.

do you think we were born fucking yesterday. Trying to get ahead of ableism accusations by suddenly claiming to be autistic, even if true, is not gonna have the effect you thought it would, cause I wasn’t the only person who clocked that as WEIRD. (Internalized ableism is still ableism, btw.)

Just shut the fuck up. For once. It’s THAT SIMPLE. Leave everyone alone. Make your little posts without feeling the need to be assholes to other people.

Fun fact: I have received no death or rape threats in my anon mail, and maybe that’s because I’m not a very big blog. Or maybe it’s cause I know what all your fucking faces look like (hello, internet safety where?). I said fuck all y’all yesterday and I stand by that. Hopefully your time here is met with the same amount of love you’ve shown your peers.

[krashlite]

I think that c!Jimmy liked being a Bad Boy and a Big Dog because for once in this series a role let him be reckless without being mocked/put down by his allies and without truly harming anyone through the risks he took. In this essay I will explore his character through this lens

Jimmy is an extremely optimistic character, almost always seen smiling and laughing about whatever’s going on. Not in the sense that he laughs when he’s nervous, but in the sense that he makes light of whatever scenario he’s in. On a deeper level, this also translates into overconfidence in a glass-half-full type of way. If there’s a chance a plan could go south, he only focuses on the potential benefit. If there’s a chance he loses a fight, he only focuses on winning

This isn’t to say he’s unaware of negative outcomes, he just chooses to ignore them. The result is him making poor decisions over, and over, and over again. Jimmy knows exactly why he did that but from an outside perspective he’s regarded as stupid

This is seen as early as 3rd life, with Scott practically putting him on a leash to stop him from fighting Ren and his army. Specifically when they manage to chase Dogwarts away from Joel’s base, Jimmy goes to give chase and Scott immediately stops him. They’ve won, and he doesn’t understand why Jimmy would push it further. Jimmy, on the other hand, is thinking about how they’ve been chased across the map like rabbits and knows DW will be back unless they establish themselves as a threat. Now’s the perfect time, since they have the upper hand

But again, Scott doesn’t see this. In his mind, the battle is won and they shouldn’t expend more time, energy, or resources on it. Ultimately he doesn’t want to see Jimmy hurt and believes that restricting what Jimmy does will protect him from harm

I think this shows a fundamental difference in how they interact with the world. Scott’s more practical- he only does what he feels is necessary and is humble enough to know when the risk isn’t worth the reward. Jimmy, on the other hand, wants to test the limits and see what he’s able to accomplish through, once again, taking unnecessary risks.

But this is where things get messy

Again, there is a fundamental difference in their thought processes. This causes them to clash, and since Scott is the one who held more “power” in the relationship (being the one to decide many aspects of their base and being the one to make most deals and plans for the both of them), resulted in Scott putting Jimmy down A Lot. This started with Jimmy returning from the desert without several of the armor pieces he left with and continued throughout the war.

Jimmy, in response to this treatment, started acting More reckless as a means to prove himself. He wanted to be seen as just as strong, smart, and capable as the people around him. Ultimately, he wanted to be respected in his own right, and that didn’t really happen this season!

Nor did it happen in LL,

LL was an entire mess for so many reasons and most of it was due to the game mechanic itself. Lives being treated as currency caused rifts in many alliances, especially the Southlands

This coupled with the fact that Jimmy is already back in 3L habits, trying to prove himself constantly, makes an incredibly messy situation. His efforts in monopolizing sugar cane are downplayed and mocked, he spends so much time getting spyglasses just for Mumbo to lose them. These are meant to be harmless jokes (and really, they are) but Jimmy’s coming off of an unbalanced power dynamic and a tiny bit of it eats away at him and he can’t figure out Why.

Jimmy doesn’t understand why he doesn’t feel valued in the team, so he starts looking at arbitrary reasons Why. The reason he settles on is the life count, with Grian’s death making it known that Yellow-Names are on the brink of being exiled.

This comes back to the game mechanic. Jimmy sees Martyn with four lives, with the ability to either a) bring Grian back to Yellow or b) offer a Yellow-Name in the alliance a life to keep them safe, and Martyn Doesn’t. This tells Jimmy that Martyn either doesn’t trust him or doesn’t value him enough to even attempt to protect him

I think this was even voiced a couple of times during LL, with Martyn closely guarding his lives and finding every reason he could to justify it (he was fully in the right for keeping them, even if doing so hurt others). Jimmy backed off, but there was just a small amount of bitterness that lingered

With Martyn, I think Jimmy picked up on the fact that Martyn was more concerned with protecting his Alliance than the people in it. He needed a group around him, but wasn’t terribly concerned with them otherwise

And that’s what fueled his decision to steal the life. If Martyn doesn’t respect him, if he doesn’t trust him, if he doesn’t care enough to protect him, why should Jimmy do the same. Why should he be a human shield for someone who barely looks his way. Impulse and Mumbo could stay if they wanted, but he wasn’t going to

Which makes it hurt so much more when Martyn asks to run away with him, when Martyn says he cares about Jimmy more than anyone else in the alliance. I want to remind you, Jimmy’s an optimist. He looks at the half-full cup. He doesn’t consider Martyn could be lying because he wanted so badly to just be Seen. So Jimmy gives it back

As it turns out, Martyn was lying. He calls him an idiot, and Jimmy is exiled immediately

All the resolve that Jimmy had in stealing the life crumbles then and there. He starts hanging around the Southlands alliance like a lost puppy, basically begging them to take him back. Martyn’s little ruse inadvertently showed Jimmy that, really, all he wanted is to be valued and supported. The life counts stops being an issue because he’s able to recognize the real issue- he feels undervalued and he feels stupid

That’s a factor even after the Southlands reunites, after he’s almost unanimously voted back in but Grian’s insistent on a recount. I think it’s the main reason why he’s so risky when he goes down to red- with him falling for a trap that he easily could have avoided

Again, it’s the same as 3L. He feels disrespected and undervalued so he takes unnecessary risks in order to prove to himself and to others that he’s just as strong, just as smart, and just as capable as they are.

This is later coupled with Mumbo’s extreme bloodlust when he turns Red. On Red, Mumbo was needlessly violent and is basically the only Red to swing at anything that moved. And I do mean Needlessly violent, he got himself and others into several dicey scenarios because he was impulsive and wanted to Stab. He gave the server a reason to be cautious of Mumbo and any other Red-Name. If Mumbo was a loose cannon, how would others be?

Except Mumbo was only aggressive towards Non-Reds (obviously) and was otherwise supportive of those on his side

I think this actually greatly influenced Skizz’s decision to leave BEST behind, with him seeing Mumbo as someone worth defending/standing by. Not only was he a visibly strong ally with a reputation, he genuinely cared for and supported those who were at his side. In Skizz’s case, he offered a source of stability where BEST couldn’t, and I think the same is true for Jimmy.

Jimmy sees this, and sees Mumbo as someone who can both show him how to be dangerous and respect his abilities in this game. Mumbo was respected as a threat and genuinely cared for those in his company. So he’s the perfect ally, right?

Actually, no, and this isn’t where the Skizz comparison ends either. Remember, Mumbo created the reputation that Reds are a worthy threat and that they’re violent without cause (“oh but what about Joel?” Joel was a joke at best and an annoyance at worst. He I think he definitely did influence Mumbo’s actions but that’s another essay entirely). Mumbo influenced Skizz’s aggression this season, with him becoming more bold in who he threatened or even attacked

So how does this compare to Jimmy? Both of them were coming off of alliances where they were unsupported, so they leaned more into Mumbo’s habits- good and bad. Except they didn’t really see it. Good traits were associated with Mumbo, their friend, and bad traits were associated with their shared condition, their Red-Life.

The plan to trap the bunker played on both, but was coupled with Jimmy’s bad habit of shooting for the best possible outcome. Mumbo had previously turned tail and ran whenever a plan went south, but that’s not how Jimmy is. Jimmy only focuses on the possible gain and ignores possible dangers. When the trap didn’t set off, he insisted on pushing Grian into it. And that actually goes back to him trying to chase Ren’s army- he didn’t know when to call it quits

And of course this causes both of their deaths. To Jimmy, his death caused Mumbo’s. He caused the death of the one ally who actually stood by him. I think this is when he fully internalizes criticism from 3L and LL as a whole. He feels weak, he feels stupid, he doesn’t feel nearly as capable as those around him.

And this carries into DL

Except DL was a much different season than the previous two. The soulmate mechanic in DL meant that you and your ally have to rely on each other, you have to support each other because failing to do so will surely spell your doom

Not only that, but Jimmy was finally paired with a supportive ally from the start. They made their base together because they trusted the other to build more than they trusted themself. When Jimmy came back with cows, Tango’s immediate response was to exclaim “you’re amazing!!!” Instead of criticizing him like previous alliances had- even back in 3L!! This is the first time Jimmy got a fully positive response to his efforts. Tango was overwhelmingly supportive towards Jimmy and Jimmy returned the favor. The base didn’t look perfect, but it was theirs. The server didn’t want them to have a horn so they devised a plan to get one.

Tango had also been following a similar arc up until now- with him being undervalued by his alliances. Except in those alliances, he was pushed to the side or physically harmed instead of being an object of ridicule. I think this is part of why it isn’t really out of place for them to meet through dying. Tango was expecting to be harmed and so was Jimmy, so neither of them blame the other

With Tango being pushed to the side, he also shied away from leadership positions, finding it more comfortable to follow. This paired well with how Jimmy typically takes charge of things, with Jimmy making most plans for the both of them (most, not all)

But again, this is where things get messy

Remember, Jimmy uses risks to prove his worth. He wants to see what he can do, but is also still recovering from previous seasons. He still thinks he’s the reason why him and Mumbo died, and doesn’t want to cause the death another ally, especially one who loves him. Instead of staying careful, he devises a plan to steal livestock, to steal Scar’s horse. It’s for the ranch, it’s for Tango

I think Jimmy realizes the problem when the Ranch is burned. He’s forced to confront this when he sees Tango fly into a rage and almost try to fight a group of people he’d surely lose to. Jimmy cannot be reckless here, he has to talk Tango down from the proverbial ledge.

With this, the roles end up reversing, with Tango being the reckless one and Jimmy trying to steer him to be more tactical. And Jimmy is So careful about this too, not wanting to act like Scott or the Southlands. Because of that he never actually tells Tango no on his dangerous plans- ESPECIALLY the plan to release Rancher’s Revenge, the warden- but instead suggests ways to make the plan better

The dilemma here is that Jimmy needs to choose between being risky and being safe. Both would benefit Tango, except Jimmy knows from experience how much it hurts to be bound in bubble-wrap all the time

Jimmy sees no way to avoid risks without hurting Tango. So instead of fighting against that part of himself, Jimmy leans into it. He accepts it as a key tenet of his identity, even as it puts the both of them in harms way. Yes they went down in the end, but they went down together, Always Together.

It didn’t matter if Jimmy was a “worthy” ally, he didn’t need to be Smart, he didn’t need to be Strong, he didn’t even need to be Capable. He learned that he deserved love not in spite of his flaws, but alongside his flaws.

And this is the lesson he carries into the next two Seasons, with both alliances being fully centered on being reckless

The Bad Boys acted dangerously, but they acted as a unit- ESPECIALLY him and Joel. Bad Boys dig straight down, Bad Boys water bucket clutch from the build limit, Bad Boys care about each other not in spite of endangering themselves, but because of it

And this is because Joel had a nearly identical arc. Joel in previous seasons had a habit of acting recklessly in the same way Jimmy did, and was cast aside because of it. In 3L he ended up a Lone Wolf, in LL he was forced into a position where he’s the villain, and in DL he and Etho leaned into the danger in the same way Jimmy and Tango did. Their stories run parallel so it only makes sense that they’re the ones who end up supporting each other in LimL

And Joel was Jimmy’s main source of support that season, with Grian representing the criticism of previous seasons. This gave Jimmy the ability to confront said criticisms through, again, leaning into them. He did something stupid? Yes, but him and Joel were having fun. A plan went south because of unnecessary risks? Yes, but Joel was being risky with him. Joel gave Jimmy the ability to basically cut through the aforementioned “bubble wrap” Grian was trying to put around them

And I think it’s also important to mention Grian did this out of both love and cowardice, not malice. Ultimately he didn’t want to lose either of them and was trying to keep them alive longer. But because Grian never learned the lesson they did- that it’s more important to act together than to survive alone- Grian chooses survival and ends up alone.

Anyways, recklessness being the foundation of Jimmy’s alliances carries into SL as well

Jimmy was on the brink of death for almost the entire season, man was not thriving whatsoever and that was known. Funnily enough, he ends up with Martyn, who again was previously more concerned with his own safety than the people around him

But Martyn is just coming off of a victory, of finally achieving the very thing he’d been working towards and the thing he centered his motivations on. Without that goal, he’s left with his methods- which was mostly having dangerous ideas and seeing them through

With Jimmy, Martyn introduced plans that involved them being risky and in everyone else’s faces. This, to Jimmy, echoed both Joel and Tango’s behavior. He was able to fully settle into the fact that, for him, good things come from being reckless, from shooting for the best possible outcome and refusing to back down

Jimmy maintains his optimism and his recklessness, traits that had previously been challenged but traits he stubbornly holds onto and values in his Life

[misguidedasgardian]

Hour of the Wolf (7)

VII. Pestilence

MASTERLIST

Summary: Unbeatable, dangerous enemies make their way through the Red Keep

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, SPOILERS IN WARNINGS, sickness, epidemic, people dying, angst

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 5 k

Notes: Alright, so there had been a few times skips through the chapters, since they got married it’s been like 2 months, and in here trough outs like another two. Sorry for any mistakes I wrote this in notes and barely choked it

“Anything else?”, you asked your council, “maybe something that you had been keeping from me?”, you were still punishing them with your tough words, even though it's been two weeks since the Iron Fleet situation

Tyland decided to chuckle, as to relieve the tension

“No your grace”

“There is something that had been brought to my attention, your grace”, muttered the Grand Maester, “concerning reports from the White Harbour”, Cregan raised his eyes, “just got the raven this morning… A strange disease has been spreading… people are getting shivers, fever, and then… perishing”

“How bad is it?”, you asked, then you looked at your husband

“The disease appeared first on the three sisters”, he said, “many are dead, half the population…”

“How come we haven’t heard of this before?”, you asked

“I do not know your grace, it appears the Vale wanted to keep it guarded, as they blame it on people from Ibbe, slaughtering the bunch, they did not want to raise alarms”

“For the gods”, you cursed, truly concerned, “I want you to keep communications open with theirs maesters, send them everything we might have on how to deal with this diseases, on the library, I will bet there is information”, you commanded, “also keep the line open with The Citadel, they must have even much information”

“Yes your grace”, said the maester, knowing that you did not said that lightly

“We will help as we can, but we cannot send help physically”, you observed

“Agreed, we need to discourage the spreading of the disease”, muttered Lord Celtigar, “In my travels, I witnesses many diseases, I shall help the maester on the gathering of information”

“That will be much appreciated”, you said, nodding your head at your maester of laws

“We must be careful of the ships and envoys that come from the Vale and from White Harbour, but at the same time, we must aid one of the most important trading points in the North”, determined Cregan

“I agree, with winter fast approaching, we cannot impair the North of their most important harbor”, you said, looking at the naked table in front of you, “how I wish we had the painted table in front of us”, you whispered

“I’ll arrange a well drawn map to be able to us here in the small council chamber”, muttered the Maester

“Thank you”, you said, relieved

“Lord Celtigar, I wish to know about Harrenhal”, you said, looking at your master of Laws

“I’m not gonna lie, events happened in that cursed place from which I have no explanation”, he muttered, “a man died in front of me, because the so-called Queen Witch of Harrenhal command it”, you frowned, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious

“Some say it was a well time bolt that made that man’s head explode your grace, but, I did not see any arrows”

“What of her?”, you asked

“She presented me with a boy, with blonde hair, she claimed it is Aemond Targaryen’s son, and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne”

You chuckled darkly, the audacity of your uncle, of openly calling your brothers and you bastards, developing a hate that led him to kill your baby brother, only to bed none other than a Strong bastard, and siring a bastard himself, if he had lived, you would have killed him again.

Specially after what he did to you

“We surrounded the castle, took it by storm, killing all the traitors, but, when we storm what would be the royal apartments… she was gone, her and the child, we do not know were she is, or how she could have escaped”, he said, looking at your face for any indications of what you were thinking

“Be honest, should I be concerned?”, you asked then

“I do not think so, your grace, nobody would believe her, and even if they did… I don’t think so, you are well settled in your throne, and… even so… other than the Hightowers, nobody has real reason to raise against you”, you barely nodded, “nobody has the strength, the kingdoms are still healing, and will be so for at least the next five years”

“Raise alarms, in case she is spotted”, you said only, you wanted to eliminate all traces of your uncles, treachery, and war, “what else?”

“The Blackwoods request audience”, muttered Cregan, “Lord Blackwood’s eldest daughter Alyssane is seeking for a husband, let it be reminded the Blackwoods were great supporters of your mother during the war, thanks to them we defeated the Baratheon Army, eliminating Lord Borros, and… The Riverlands turned black because of them”

“And they are welcomed in my court, I shall receive them with open arms, and a banquet in their honor”, you commanded

“I’ll make the arrangements”, muttered Lord Redwyne

“The Iron Fleet, or what remains, the flagship has been spotted sailing here, to King’s landing”

“Have they made their intentions clear?”, you asked

“They wave white flags, request an audience”, you only scoffed, “they claim that, they want to gaze upon the Dragon Queen”

“Of course”, you muttered, “let’s welcome them then, we are home, they are but a few, we shouldn’t be concerned”

Nobody opposed the idea, so they barely nodded

“Of course prepare escorts, I would not let them be for a second while they are here, eyes on them at all times”

Gazing upon the face of the Red Kraken himself gave you a sensation of… disappointment

You were disappointed of him, from the tales, stories of men that had faced him in open sea and also in lands, were the tales of a man that didn’t belong to the land of the living, rather, he had come from the darkest parts of the ocean ready to reclaim land back to the depths

A ruthless men, bloodthirsty, with no remorse or fear of death

“Your grace”, he greeted, bowing theatrically 

“Lord Dalton”, you greeted seriously

“The songs do not do justice to your beauty”

“Is that so?”, you did not like his tone, not the mock in his voice and features of his face 

“You are more than they say”, he continued

“And what else do they say about me, Lord?”, you asked mockingly, Cregan, by your side, glanced at you, clearly asking you to not engage

“They say men rule in your stead”, he said, you only smiled

“As I have proven, that is not entering true”, you smirked, he chuckled darkly

“That is true”

“So you raided one of my seven kingdoms… to prove me, test me”, you said, now more serious

“I wanted to see who sat the Iron Throne”, he said, “a dragon, or wolves and lions”

You grew bored of this character quickly looking for help in your small council and other lords gathered there

“now it’s clear to me, so I’ve come to offer… other services”, your eyes went back to him

“Services?”, you asked, you did not like the smirk of his face, “such as?”

“Well I’d offer my hand in marriage but… I see I’m too late for that…”, Cregan took a step forwards, anger taking a hold on him, “but I don’t mind being the second”

“You are overstepping”, your husband grunted.

He was not going to allow some guy just coming here and shamelessly think he could just… have you

“All Kings and Queens have lovers”, he said dismissively, “you don’t have to be the exception”

“right…”, you mumbled looking for the eyes of your Queensguard, to ask him to remove him, “I thought you seek audience to reintegrate yourself and your people to the rest of the realms, for the common fool, but you had just come here to make a mockery out of diplomacy”

“your grace you misunderstood, it is costumers for us ironborns to have salt wives… and rock wives”, he said, entertained, by you, you were getting angry, “together, we could have children not only with fire in their veins, but in their head as well”, people laughed, but Cregan was not amused, “worthy of the throne”

“That is enough”, you demanded, “I only need but one husband”, you said, and the court chuckled, “if you are here to mend bonds with the realm you might stay, Lord Dalton, otherwise and although I thank yo Igor your offering, I kindly reject it”, people laughed again and that did not pleased the Kraken, soon, he left and if he had his armada on its entirety, you would be weary, but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

The mood swiftly changed when another introduction was made

“The Lady Alyssane of house Blackwood” presented a guard, you’d think she would have come with the rest of her family, but she presented herself alone in front of you

She was one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen, also, her reputation precedes her. She fought in the war, she led armies, she killed hundreds with bow and arrow.

She was someone to admire

She was the head of her house until her little brother came of age

“Your grace, it’s an honor, thank you for receiving me”, of course she ceased the first word

“Lady Alyssane you are most welcome, I hope you find what you are looking for, you are welcome to stay at court as much as you need to”, she only smiled, bowing perfectly, she also looked at your husband and hand, but… you didn’t like I one bit.

Having the Ironborns at court was one thing, having the Blackwoods was another, it changed the dynamic in the entire court

The former were constantly and daily have dinner with you, and lady Alyssane would sit beside Cregan, and they would chat all night…

You didn’t like it, not at all

But it would be childish of you to chide Cregan for something he didn’t have power over, right?

“But I find that hunting with a spear… is it too slow” the woman giggled, and you could see the conversation had sparked something in Cregan, he was entertained, he was speaking of something he enjoys, a rare thing to find with him

Is not like you did not trusted Cregan, but it was still painful to watch, so you retired early, as many of the other women at court, and left Cregan, the men, and the lady Alyssane, drinking and laughing like old mates.

You were not worried or concerned, only tired by the events of the day.

Cregan though, as soon as you left, was left himself with a sense of emptiness, he found the situation uncomfortable, and soon, followed you

Cregan was on his way to your now shared chambers when he encountered little Jahaera walking in the same direction, a small red blanket in her arm, rubbing her tired face with the other 

“Little one, where are you going?”, as soon as she saw him she whined, hugging onto the hand of the nanny that was taking her

“I’m very sorry my lord, she woke up, and wanted to see the Queen”

“Leave us, I’ll take her”, he said, and she, with reluctance, let go of her tiny hand and walked away

He kneeled on the floor just in front of her, with a soft expression on his face

“Why can’t you sleep, little dragonling?”

“I don’t want anyone else to go away”, she whined, her teary eyes make him sad, “If I sleep, she’ll go away”, she explained

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly

“At night… my brother went away… then I went to sleep, and my mommy went away, and then my papa, he went away, when he went to sleep…”, she whined, bitter tears falling from her beautiful eyes

Cregan’s heart broke

“I don’t want my aunty mommy to go away too”, she said

“She won’t, I promise you”, he said

“How do you know?”, she asked, rubbing her eyes

“Because I will protect her with my life, us Starks, we always keep our word, did you know?”, he asked softly

“You will take care of my new mama?”

“I promise you little one”, he said, “and you know, I’m married to your mama, so..”, she only smiled, and hugged him. He hugged her back, stading up and carrying her to the chambers. “one more night you can sleep with your new mommy alright?”, he asked

Jahaera barely nodded again his neck.

She was already sleeping by the time he entered the chambers to find you looking at him with the softest eyes, and the most beautiful smile he had seen.

That little girl and your brother where your family, and he had married you so, they became his family, he needed to step up, and help you with those children

He was determined, he thought the very next day, as he finished his short prayers in the Godswood, he wanted to go back to the Keep, to speak to Ser Arryk about prince Aegon’s training, or the start of.

That boy was too very sad… he needed to look forwards, you needed to fill his mind with something more… history, philosophy, training, to keep him mind fed and occupied with something else.

He walked trough the beautiful garden, thinking about inviting you to eat something outside, that would make you happy

“I must say I’m dissapointed”, Cregan raised his gaze to meet the beautiful Alyssane Blackwood

“The Capital is not to your liking?”, he asked

“Well, no if the betrothal I was hoping to get is… already married”, now that surprised him, looking at her

“My Lady”

“You are a price I was hoping to catch”, she continued, smirking

“Well, you are too late”, he said, trying to make it lighter, with a smile on his face, but she was not releasing her predatory stance 

“A pity”, she muttered, looking mindesly at the flowers of the garden, “we could have been great you know”

“Probably”, he muttered

“Are you really happy here in the capital?”, she asked, “wouldn’t you have prefered a wife? A lady of Winterfell?”

“I would prefer no one but the one I gave my word to”, he said, now all serious, he was not going to be polite anymore, “and you are out of line, my lady”

“Just playing with what could have been”, she said, not altered at all by his serious words

“I thought the idea was to look for a match”, they both turned to see you approaching them, “not get into one”, you said bitterly

“Your grace”, she said, now alarmed, as she saw you approaching

“I think you overstayed your welcome, Lady Blackwood, since you found no prospects on this week, you best try somewhere else”, you said simply, standing by Cregan’s side.

She barely nodded, and bowed lightly

“Thank you for your hospitality your grace, but you are right I must take my leave, and hunt in other woods”, she muttered and then she left quite quickly.

You watched her lean and tall figure leave, she was beautiful, her eyes as green as forests, and her hair long, black and lustrous

“It is a pity, if she had been here sooner… maybe she would have managed to hunt you”, you whispered, and then walked on the other direction.

Cregan called your name, but you didn’t turn back, you just kept walking

Cregan haden’t entertained her, but her words still lingered in your ears. You had make him marry you, perhaps he would have preferred a real wife, a lady, a partner for him to take North and be a mother to his child and give him more, that supports him in leading his people, not all the way around

But it was too late now. 

What was done was done, is not like you threatened with your dragon for him to marry you, but still, the inavility of managing a match for yourself is what chained him to a life he didn’t even want.

You had commissioned a pathway from the gardens to exit the castle by a stone hallway, that led to the cliffs sorrounding King’s Landing, were your dragon rested, you wanted to see her, maybe even take a little flight. 

This stone hallway was tall, windy, and open, much like the one leading to the castle in Dragonstone, Cregan followed you closely

“I didn’t entertain her…”, he explained

“I’m aware”, you answered, but not stopping your movements 

“Please”

“Cregan”, you stopped turning to look back at him, “I’m aware you didn’t entertain her, but she is right, I can’t help but think in the “what if”, you explained, “what if I didn’t make you marry me? you could have been back in Winterfell, with your child and your people”

“Yes maybe”, he growled, “but I married you”

“Because of a pact you made when my borthers were still alive”, you said simply, turning to keep walking, but he grabbed you

“Not only because of that”, he growled, looking into your eyes, “I wanted to marry you”, he said

“Why?”

“Why!?”

“Why? because of power?”, you asked

“Not only that”, he said, looking intently into your eyes

“Because I’m broken?”, you asked then, “because I’m a danger to the country?”

“No…”, he said, you both into eachtoher’s eyes, he moved slowly, like you were some wild animal, and he palced his hand on the side of your face. “Because to me you are the most beautiful woman in the seven Kingdoms, because I desired you, you are what I have been promised”, you didn’t know what to say, “I will have half a life with you, and half a life away, but… at least I have something of you”, he said

You kept quiet, the world seemed to stop for a second, and all around you, only the two of you existed.

“I have never been much of a poet”, he said, chuckling darkly, “and I only must say, nobody would have make me marry you if I didn’t want you”, he said this time more darkly, you leaned in kissing him, he kissed you back, trapping your lips on his greedily

“I wanted you too”, you said, “because you and I… were ment to be together”, you said certainly 

“Fire and Ice”, he said, “nobody make us marry, we chose it, because we knew, together we could have everything”, he said with a husky voice, “power, love, a family”

“Together”, you confirmed, sealing your words with another longing kiss, “We need to settle in our roles as husband and wife”, you whispered with an entertained voice

“I’ll settle you in our bed as of right now”, he growled, “But I will settle for having you here…”

“No!”, you giggled as he grabbed you pulling you towards the grass on the other side of the passage.

He layed you down in the open, where anybody could see

“The nerve of that woman”, he growled over you, “of ever thinking I could have chosen her, instead of you”

“the audacity”, you chuckled 

“Perhaps we should have her watch as I ravage you”, he said opening the top of your riding gear, his mouth on the skin of your neck and collarbones

“Cregan Stark!”, you shrieked, “I didn’t know this side of you”, you moaned, as you spread your legs to fit his form between them. 

“We have the power, and our love… let’s make our family”, he whispered against your neck, “dark haired children worthy of the throne…” he mocked the words of Dalton

Cregan and you shared looks over the table, little smirks, you two were like two giggly lovers from the stories

“Concerns about the desease are increasing, despise out best efforts, it’s coming trough the port…”, muttered the Grand Maester, bringing the attention back to the situation at hand, “there is no control…”, he was interrupted when Tyland coughed, trying to hide it in a hankerchief, now you noticed that… he looked sickly

“Are you well, Tyland?”, you asked with concern, as the man looked possibly ghostly, pale, heavy sweat on his forehead

“Forgive me your grace”, he coughed, “I do not feel well”

Cregan stood from the table like a spring, and grabbed you, pushing you gently backwards towards the window

“Get away, hold your breath”, he commanded, all the men stood from the table, taking steps back from Tyland

“I’m well”, he tried to argue, but Arryk grabbed your other side, using his cape to cover your face, making you blind, but both men led you out of the room.

“Is this necessary?”, you asked, concerned

“Very”, growled Cregan, “the Winter fever has reached the Red Keep, take the necessary measures, nobody meets anyone, people should stay in their apartments”

“Yes M’Lord”, muttered Arryk

They finally released you in your rooms

“Wait!”, you called as they left you alone and were about to close the door, “what about Aegon and Jahaera?”

“We need to keep you separated”, he said firmly, “in case…”, your eyes filled with tears

“Yes I understand”, you murmured 

“We will keep them together”, he assured you, “nobody will see them…”

“Wait!”, you called as he was about to close the door, “stay here with me”

“Someone needs to organize this”, he said seriously

“Not you!”, you called

“I have to”, he said seriously, and he closed the doors, trapping you inside 

You were loosing your mind….

You had books, they brought you food and Cregan would come at the door and give you updates twice a day…

You had done all you could, you had commanded medicine to be send, as well as the knowledge to help the cities fight this, but they wouldn’t let you out, you hadn’t seen anyone in weeks. At least half the Kingdoms had fallen into madness and sickness

“Tyland… didn’t make it” Cregan whispered against the door, “10 servants didn’t either”, you shed bitter tears at the other side of the door

“Gods… Tyland”, you whined

“Alicent has fallen to the sickness as well”, he murmured, but you heard him alright

“What about Aegon and Jahaera?”

“They ask about you constantly, yet… they are in good spirits, with their Nannies who had also scaped this”

“Good”, you whispered, “please send word to Casterly Rock”

“Already did, those lucky bastards weren’t hit by the desease, neither has the Reach nor Dorne, it seemed it is stuck in the Crownlands, the Vale and the North"

"at least some of us are spared"

"its been a moon since Tyland was sick, we will get trough this", he said, "the worst is…", he got quiet, and you whined when you heard a cough

"Cregan?", you asked

"I'm fine, some dust sneaked his way to my throat", he said lightly

“Are you sure?”, you asked, grabbing the knob of the door

“Yes” he said, “A message has arrived from the Citadel from the maesters, I should tend to it” he said

“Please come back”, you begged

“Always”, he said, and left you

The next day… he didn’t came back

“His grace has taken abed your grace”, said Ser Arryk, “the maester is tending to him”. You opened the door, to his surprise

“Your grace”

“If the maester falls sick we are all dead, I’ll tend to him”

“No!” He said trying to grab you, but only one look and he desisted

You ran down the hallways and entered his rooms…

Cregan laid in his bed, pale, you could see the sweat on his forehead, and the shivers running up and down his arms and his whole body. You were by his side in a minute, grabbing his hand

“Cregan”, you called, but to no answer, his eyelids fluttered, he seemed like he was going to open his eyes, but he didn’t, instead he just mumbled something, sounded more like a grunt.

The Grand Maester didn’t lie to you…

Most… almost all of those who catched the fever perished…

You needed to prepare for the worst… and yet, your eyes filled with tears and a desperation consumed you, as you started crying silently

“Please don’t leave me”, you cried, “please”, you begged, grabbing onto his hand tightly, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you”, you admitted, he squeezed your hand a little

“Rickon”, he whispered, in his feverish dreams, “my son”, you frowned, concerned, at the worry on his features even in his sleep

He was calling for his son, the son you had kept him from, the only son he had.

You placed your hand on your lower belly, then you placed his hand there

“You need to get better”, you begged, “your son needs you, the North needs you… our baby needs you… I need you”, you prayed, his naked chest was pearled with sweat he was burning up. You stood up removed your clothes and laid by his side grabbing into him, making sure your body stuck to his as much as you could, so you’ll lower his body temperature with yours, after giving him the medicine indicated by the doctor.

It all depends on him, and the gods.

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