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#the dark before Crimson Dawn?

aftergloom · 4 months

Text

The "left in a hurry" vibes of the old village following the Nightsister genocide makes the whole place into a graveyard. Not to say that Dathomir, baseline, isn't a thriving microcosm of decay, but the prevalence of the Dark Side in the place makes the rot take a little quicker. The world's a little hungrier than most. A little more determined to take what remains of the ships and skiffs and structures picked clean by Nightbrother hands to salvage and conserve those few things that still serve a purpose.

They don't take much. Too many memories attached to the world that was before Maul arrived -- before construction began up the Peak. The prevailing notion that so much of those artifacts are cursed or haunted keeps them from over-reliance on the old ways.

Maul encourages the shifting paradigm:

A red dawn rises over Dathomir these days, and everything left draped in shadow, he insists, is better off buried anyway.

#Headcanuary #Headcanuary 2024 #Day 03: Technology #Dathomir #Darth Maul #Long May He Reign #Crimson Dawn #the dark before Crimson Dawn?#Nightbrother #Nightbrothers #Nightbrother Headcanons #Dathomir Headcanons #Nightsisters #Fanon #Star Wars #Star Wars Headcanons #Star Wars horror #Maul #world building from the Everyone Lives AU

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mondaymelon · 4 months

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OMGGG what about the tall genshin men reacting when u suddenly distance urself from them, but they dont know its bc of something they said? feel free to edit n modify this as much as ud like :3

₊˚ෆ "𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄…" | diluc, childe, kaveh x gn!reader

art by @/kongqingkoqi on twitter! (not too sure on who you meant by tall characters, so i just chose a couple males with the tall model~ thank you for your request!)

— cw: angst + comfort ? injury (diluc), ngl reader is kinda a bitch in childe's but it was the only way i thought up of of making the situation work so. lmao. cries

[ Perhaps it was the winter cold that had bit him so, or perhaps it was merely a gloom that had briefly descended upon him. Either way, an unfortunate slip of the tongue has wounded you, yet they themselves remain unaware. ]

"Love?"

DILUC's eyes are round with worry, and his concerned gaze sweeps over you - from your crestfallen form, and then to your eyes that shy away from his. Ever since he had returned to the estate after being out of business since morning, you've been avoiding him, not wishing to speak a single word to his self and not even bothering to spare him a fleeting glance.

At first, it was bearable. Perhaps you just had had a long day and wanted some alone time, no? It was always a possibility, that is, until he saw your smiling self as you busied yourself in chatting away with the maids, and most importantly, that brother of his.

What had he done to warrant such treatment? You loved him, that he was sure of. Otherwise, you would've rejected him, wouldn't you? You wouldn't have let him take your hand and bring it to his lips ever so slowly, pressing a kiss into your knuckles?

"Love, I... I'm sorry. Please, tell me what I did wrong." His voice contains a shred of his desperation, and his crimson eyes only hold you in their gaze. You, who had broken past his carefully crafted walls and rekindled the flame that had long since been extinguished within his heart. "If it's something I did, if it's something I said-"

“Diluc, you…” Your quiet voice ebbs to silence as your eyes glance away, landing on everything except for the red-haired man before you, whose broad shoulders give the slightest tremor. The darkness in your expression, the displayed hurt… Ah.

Diluc’s weary mind raced, recollecting the hasty conversation from this morning, when dawn had yet to break and he had arrived home, coat blazing, skin littered in bruises and still-bleeding cuts. You had rushed out of your bedroom, still in your night garments, panicking over the wounds that covered his body and the red that blackened his already dark clothes. In a strained voice, eyes wide and frantic, you had called for the maids, only for Diluc to forcibly shush you, steadying himself on shaky legs.

“Love, what happened, what were you doing and how did-??”

“It doesn’t concern you.” His tone is low, tired. “Stay out of this, you won’t be able to offer any assistance anyhow.”

Begrudgingly, the man recalled his absolute exhaustion, having just returned after a bloody night of battling monsters, muscles sore and crying for relief. There was no need for your concern, his cuts would mend and his wounds would heal. Yet he hadn’t meant for his words to come out so harsh, for his tongue to pierce you in the way it had.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't in my right mind when I said that- I just... I just didn't want you to be hurt also... If I'm injured, those wounds will fade with time, but I.."

His words trail off, replaced with your silence - a voiceless agreement, one that Diluc takes as an answer. Holding both your hands in his gloved ones, it's somehow easy to feel his fiery warmth despite his cold demeanor. Cold... was it really so? The male's eyes shone, and then you were in his arms, tightly intertwined.

"..I don't know what I would do if harm were to befell you, love..."₊˚ෆ

"Love!"

CHILDE's playful smile fades at its corners as you walk past him, the way you're failing to even acknowledge his presence painfully apparent. "Hah... what's with you today?" Another absence of a response. You dash your way out of his sight, and he's left alone in the dark living room, a half-smile still on his features. The fuck?

Okay, maybe it was just one of those days. There had been several since the start of the relationship, and the harbinger offered his utmost understanding. Sometimes people just felt like shit, and didn't feel like doing shit, and he could understand that to some extent.

There, mystery solved, yeah? Ah, but just one problem, how come you had been completely fine just an hour before? He had the day off, and so did you, so there was a mutual agreement to just stay home and laze about in one another's presence - yet it was only nearing lunchtime and you had already given him the cold shoulder? For what..? You hadn't even gone outside or did anything today-

Oh. Then he had to have been the problem. He raps his knuckles on your bedroom door, but it's really his bedroom too, and is bold enough to poke his head through the frame without waiting for your confirmation, a hesitant grin decorating his lips. "Love, I'm sorry- for ah... whatever you disliked...?"

You're sat at your desk, weariness evident in your darkened eyes. "Childe, do you find me someone who needs to be protected?"

He blinks. "...What?"

"Childe, do you really just want to spend the entire day lying around?" Snapping your fingers, your eyes lit up with sparkles. "We should go to a cafe or something for lunch, maybe, and then-"

"Why through go all the effort? We're staying home because I thought you wanted to, aren't we?"

"Not to that extent Childe... if you were with friends, what would you be doing? Not sitting on the couch all day, I hope?" A sheepish smile crossed your face.

"Hmm.. friends... I suppose we'd duel...?"

"Then-"

"Nope, no way am I dueling with you, you're way too weak, love, that's why I gotta protect you, hm?"

He immediately shakes his head at your words, almost frantic. "W- No, I didn't mean it in that way, love. You're capable, it's just that... Well- you don't have a vision, or a weapon, or-"

"Childe." Not your usual 'love', a bright smile on your lips, and he flinches just the slightest at the sight. "We're in a relationship. I don't want to be in a give all take all relation, you know? I.. I want to be independent, I want you to rely on me sometimes too... I just feel like sometimes I'm just such a burden to you and-"

"A burden?" His eyes widen, features instantly shadowing with disbelief at your words.

You, a burden? Such a thing couldn't possibly be. The warmth that you had granted him, the delicate arms that had held him in its hold, the lips that had whispered such affections and pressed kisses on his skin-

"No, love. You are not a burden, not when you are someone who makes life worth living." ₊˚ෆ

"Love...?"

KAVEH's in instant full blown panic mode, the dark bags under his eyes especially evident with how wide they've grown. "H-Hey, are you okay?" Of course, something wasn't okay - otherwise, why would you be ignoring him like this? But his sleepless mind has grown frantic, and he's desperate for relief. His hand latches onto yours before you can disappear into another room, holding onto your wrist loosely enough to not seem forceful. "Ah..."

He'd moved without thinking, almost as if on instinct, and now that you had glanced back with something colder in your gaze, that same urge told him not to let go. "I, I'm sorry!" For what exactly, he wouldn't even be able to tell a soul, yet the words seemed to have done the trick, as your feet pause in the middle of a step away from him, hesitance clear in your expression.

"For what, Kaveh?"

Shit, he's fucked. This was it, all the all nighters and hours of laborious planning and calculations had led to this one moment... His mind was spurred into action as his mouth sputtered useless stutters and... oh, could it be?

"Kaveh, you should go to sleep, it's already so late, and you haven't gotten a good rest in days, love..." Your concerned tone rang clearly in his ears, but he shook the words away, his disheveled form only focusing on the work before him, the endless tasks he had yet to complete.

"No, I... I can't. Love, could you brew me a cup of coffee, the extra strong kind? Thank you..." He gave his sleepy eyes a rub, completely missing the look that had flitted across your face in that moment.

Your sigh invades his flashbacks, and you look completely done with him, brows furrowed a fraction and lips drawn into a thin line. "Kaveh, please, for the love of the archons, take some better care of yourself."

"...Ah?"

Suddenly, your tone had shifted in the span of a half second, and instead of the angry gaze he had expected, it was more so... scolding. Concern. "Close that jaw of yours, Kaveh, how come you look so surprised? I've told you this time and time again, you need rest!"

An accusing finger was pointed in his direction, the bearer someone he was certainly very familiar with. "Well, it's a big project, I have to finish it by next week and there's barely any time, so I need to-"

"-And how can you possibly plan on functioning if you haven't gotten any sleep?"

Curses, a valid argument. Kaveh slowly held up his empty hands in defeat, chuckling sheepishly. So this was about him, and not you? Thank the archons, for a second he had thought he had messed up big time-

"That look of yours, you better not be thinking what I think you're thinking! And, besides..." You glanced at the ground, as if suddenly reluctant to speak another word. "I was waiting for you so we could sleep together..."

...An angel? Was that who was before him?

"I-I'm sorry... I promise I'll take better care of myself and... you won't have to wait for me, tonight. I'll turn in early, love." ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) not all that proud of this one. but here. sigh

reblogs are veryyyy appreciated!! if you liked this fic, please consider following, as im super close to a follower goal id love to hit before new years! thank you.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling

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l-littlebird-l · 8 months

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• A Dirty Birthday •

Sebastian Sallow & Ominis Gaunt x MC (Smut)

— Requests are Open —

Summary: Sebastian talks Ominis into sneaking in your dormitory at the break of dawn on your birthday. After waking you from little to no sleep, Sebastian proposed a game. The game was simple: You will be blindfolded, testing the limits of your friendship. Guess which one of them is which. If you guess right, the two of them will buy out everything The Three Broomsticks has to offer. If you guess wrong, they get the privilege to do whatever they please with you.

—

On the morning of your birthday, having snatched just a few hours of sleep, you awoke to the distant murmur of voices, a soft blur that drew nearer like mist rolling in. Your tired eyes fluttered as you shifted in your bed, too drained to acknowledge the growing symphony. Suddenly, a sensation enveloped you—a swift tug, and the once-enshrouding blanket slipped away, leaving your skin exposed to a shiver-inducing rush of cold air. A soft "Mmm..." tumbled from your lips, a muted protest, as a pair of hands gently coaxed you out of bed.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Sebastian?” A familiar, soft, unsure voice resonated around you.

“Of course it is, Ominis. Why wouldn’t it be?” A natural grumble of Sebastian’s voice swayed as you found yourself guided with gentle precision towards the heart of your room. Your eyes still heavy with remnants of sleep, remained sealed shut. Your fingers instinctively sought to dispel the veil of haze, rubbing your eyelids tiredly as you wobbled in place.

A quiet sound of Ominis sighing fell before you. Gradually, the tender warmth of hands enveloped your sight from behind, shielding your vision.

“Accio,” the sonorous resonance of wood dragging across the stone floors piqued your awareness. With a deliberate motion, your hand extended upwards, your fingers finding purchase around the wrist that guarded your sight.

You grumbled, the fragments of drowsiness still clinging to your voice, "What’s… the meaning of this?”

“We had an idea last night,” Sebastian’s voice behind you lingered as he guided you into the chair that once was in the corner of your room.

A soft swish within the air brought by Sebastian's incantation, summoned forth a smooth and satin fabric, weaving the cloth of obscurity where his hand once held sway. The fabric settled softly across your skin, its embrace fastened over your lashes, enveloping you in a veil of darkness.

“Really… a blindfold?” Your fingers traced a path along the fabric delicately, adjusting its position. “I find it unfair that only one of us can see.” A wry smile played upon your lips as you voiced your jest, eliciting a quiet chuckle from Ominis only a few steps away.

“We’re going to play a little game…” A tender hand grazed your shoulder, its touch lingering across your flesh as the sound of their footsteps painted circles around you. A warm breath brushed against your ear, carrying Sebastian's voice as he whispered.

"A game..?" You stammered, a note of surprise infusing your voice as your body tensed with his touch.

"We're going to put our friendship to the test," Sebastian’s voice oscillated with certainty. "If you win, a feast of everything The Three Broomsticks has to offer will be yours.”

“Well, that seems harmless enough, but why the blindfold?” A trace of curiosity threaded through your voice.

His fingers curled over your shoulder, accompanied by the enveloping warmth of his presence against your other ear, his dark whisper unfurling, evoking a shiver that crawled up your spine. “You’re going to have to guess which of us is who. Simple enough?” Sebastian’s withdrawal left behind a soft crimson hue that crawled up the back of your nape like a fleeting caress.

A meandering path of warmth, guided by another pair of digits traced a tender route along your cheek, snaking slowly across your skin as they depart from your chin. The air around you stirred with swirling footsteps and a gentle breeze.

“And… if I do this you’ll keep your word?” You asked quietly, a tinge of nervousness laying beneath your breath.

“That’s right,” Sebastian’s voice carried in front of you.

“All that you could desire,” Ominis’ voice materialized against the strands of hair that veils your ear, eliciting a subtle start from you.

You inhaled deeply, your fingers absently toying with the rim of your nightdress, which rested provocatively against your thighs. The fabric, silky and abbreviated, exuded audacity with its scarcity of shoulder straps and delicate thinness. A sense of vulnerability enveloped you, as you found yourself inadequately prepared, denied the opportunity to change before becoming enmeshed in this little game of theirs.

“No need to be nervous, darling. Only one of us can see that risqué shift of yours.” Sebastian remarked with a faint sneer, having shifted from his previous position.

"What is she wearing?" Ominis inquired with a near-stammer, momentarily taken aback by Sebastian's comment.

"Find out for yourself, Ominis." Sebastian said.

"Wait, what?" A jolt coursed through you, causing your heart to quicken.

“Come now, I know you’d be more than willing to let Ominis explore that thin little dress of yours.” Sebastian’s words resonated, their impact sinking deeply as a brush of fingertips traced a fleeting line across your collarbones.

A warm flush swept across your cheeks, stealing your breath away. Your teeth nervously nibbling at your lower lip, yielding no protest. A gentle caress held your cheek, its touch tracing a tender pattern over your heated flesh.

"She's flustered," Ominis said softly, his hand retaining a subtle presence.

Sebastian's derisive tone gibed with a quiet sneer, "Don't make it obvious it’s you touching her.”

Ominis' soft touch withdrew as they both resumed their circling around you once more.

A delicate caress of fingers swept the side of your throat, tucking your hair aside with a low breath blowing against your exposed skin. A hushed gasp slipped past your lips, stirred by the sensation. "Sebastian?" You ventured, your guess accompanied by an attempt to steady your breathing. However, the silence that followed yielded no response.

The warm breath advanced, caressing your neck before settling against your ear, its heat evoking a constellation of goosebumps across your skin. Instinctively, your hand rose to push outward, seeking a presence that seemed elusive. Yet, your hand met only empty air, finding no one in its grasp. Your words faltered, quivering softly. "Ominis..?" You inquired, your voice carrying a trace of uncertainty.

"Do you truly believe Ominis possesses such audacity?" Sebastian's voice, finally positioned behind you, a hint of amusement as he hovered over your shoulder. A subdued snicker following his words. "You don’t know us at all," he taunted, his presence withdrawing as he moved away, their footsteps circling around you once more. You swallowed, the pounding of your heartbeat resounding heavily within your chest.

You felt a soft brush against the bare expanse of your thigh, compelling your nails to grip into the hem of your shift, inadvertently drawing it higher without your awareness.

“Sebastian..?” Your voice hitched through the part of your lips.

“Not this time,” Ominis’ voice lingered as his fingers traced a path along your soft skin, just below the hem of your dress.

"Keep your hand there, Ominis. She likes it,” Sebastian derided, a subtle elevation of your chin, an action seemingly to be his.

"This game is impossible," you murmured, your hand extending to clasp around his wrist, the rhythm of his veins resonating with his heartbeat beneath your touch.

"You wish to win, do you not?" Sebastian's words brushed against your lips. With a hesitant nod, you agreed with a sense of reluctance.

“A change in plans… If you guess wrong then we get the privilege to do as we please with you, free of consequences." Sebastian declared, his tone bearing a knowing darkness.

"Sebastian," Ominis interjected softly, his demur near your thighs.

"It’s only fair, we are paying for her meals after all," Sebastian’s thumb lightly grazes the curve of your bottom lip.

"It’s… fair," you conceded softly, your compliance offered without protest.

The faint sound of a smirk seemed to emanate from Sebastian's lips just before you. His breath slowly dissipates along with the release of his hold beneath your chin. In tandem, Ominis’ subtle touch followed suit, tracing a concluding path along your thigh before pulling away.

A snaking hand brushed against your shoulder once more, drawing the strap of your shift downward. "Sebastian—," you exasperated, knowing full well that touch was his doing.

Suddenly, a hand took hold of your jaw, angling your head back as lips pressed firmly against yours. A soft unexpected moan escaped your lips, mingling with the sensation of his kiss. Your fingers instinctively wrapped around his wrist, his lips embracing the contour of your bottom lip with a delicate touch. As the kiss deepened, your grip around his wrist began to slacken, the allure of the moment eclipsing the game entirely. The tender embrace of the kiss persisted, until eventually he withdrew, leaving you speechless. Your fingers rose to trace the touch that had lingered on your lips, a warmth resonating within you.

"S— Sebastian..?" You muttered with uncertainly, your voice carrying a blend of astonishment and bewilderment, still reeling from the unexpected kiss.

"Wrong," Ominis' voice reverberated beside you, his breath ghosting against your ear and eliciting a shiver running down your spine.

A rustling sound punctuated the stillness, causing your heart to briefly come to a halt. Lips pressed against yours once again, but this time it was different. The kiss was harsh, almost aggressive, characterized by parted lips and a raw hunger. Your gasps intermingled with the press of his lips, his fingers curling into the back of your hair, tightening possessively. A shudder coursed through your frame as his lips captured your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it. The sensation elicited another gasp, which was promptly swallowed by his insistent kiss. His fingers tugged at your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry and snaking along yours in a heated mess. With a reluctant withdrawal, he released your lips, his fingers still entwined in your hair. His heavy breath mingled with yours, a soft sneer punctuating the charged air around you.

"Failed again," Sebastian reveled, his lips tenderly grazing against yours. "You know what that means?"

Your thoughts swirled recklessly, bounding you in place. A shallow gulp cut through the air of silence as you came to terms with your ignorance, your voice faltering as you accepted defeat.

"You don’t know the own taste of your friends lips?" Sebastian queried, his grip around your hair tightening. As your head was drawn back by his grip, a faint wince slipped your lips.

"How… how could I possibly know that?" You shuddered, your fingers clenching the corner of your chair.

"You've observed Ominis' lips intently enough; I assumed you'd recognize them," Sebastian sneered tantalizingly.

"She what?" Ominis inquired, his curiosity piqued, his fingers trailing tenderly over your thigh once more as if it draws for his attention.

"Sebastian," you asserted, swatting his hand from your hair.

"Why would you suggest such a thing?" You lifted your hand to remove the blindfold, your patience with the game reaching its limits. However, just as your fingers began to curl beneath the fabric, a hand seized your wrists, firmly holding them together in a single grip, preventing any movement.

"You know the rules," Sebastian reminded you with a resolute tone.

A soft chuckle resonated from Ominis beside you as a pair of hands firmly enclosed around your thighs. In response, your thighs pressed together involuntarily, your heart racing from his the touch.

"You were right, Sebastian," Ominis spoke quietly from below, his thumbs circling your skin in a soothing motion.

"I always am," Sebastian retorted, his hold on your wrists tightening.

"Sebastian, is this really necessary? I promise I won’t remove the blindfold," you implored, making an attempt to liberate your wrists from his grip.

"Just a bit longer," he insisted.

Ominis' hands brushed softly against the outer contours of your thighs, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. A tender kiss landed at the center of your skin, prompting an involuntary sound from your lips. The amusement in Sebastian's hum was evident as his finger inched over your camisole, ultimately drifting down towards the ridge of your clothing. His touch gently glided over your erect nipple, sending a shiver through you. Attempting to tug your wrists free from his grip, you found his hold unwavering as he held them securely above your head.

"Sebastian..." you whispered, your body trembling from just a simple touch.

"My name isn't the one you should be saying with those pretty lips," Sebastian hushed, his fingers traveling along the contour of your breast. Your gown so thin, giving little resistance against his audacious touch. His fingers mold to your supple form, squeezing your breast softly, causing you to draw a sharp breath.

Ominis forcefully parted your legs, eagerly positioning himself between them. His hands maintained a gentle grasp along the outside of your thighs, urging your dress upward. His lips trailed heated kisses across the field of your skin, igniting a cascade of goosebumps that raced across your flesh. The sensation prompted a subtle arch in your back, the tingling touch leaving its fervent burns. A quiet hitch of breath escaped, your lips tinted with lust.

A sudden, unfamiliar warmth pressed against the damp fabric that concealed your intimate core. You attempted to push your thighs together, seeking some semblance of control, but Ominis' hands firmly held them in place. His tongue glided sensually against the soaked fabric, playfully kissing and licking at your clothed folds.

"Ominis..." You moaned softly, your arms going limp within Sebastian's grasp.

"That's it..." Sebastian's grin held a wicked edge as he watched you surrender, completely under their control now.

"Sebastian, she's drenched..." Ominis murmured softly against your clothed folds, his fingers deftly curling beneath the strings that adorned your hips. With a swift tug, he removed your knickers, casting them aside.

"Ominis..." You shuddered, your thighs quivering in response to his audacious behavior. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift widened the gap between your thighs, an invitation conveyed through your trembling body.

“Is that pretty cunt of yours wet for Ominis, or for me?” Sebastian hummed, his words delivered with a sneer. He drew your hands from above your head, placing them against his trousers, your fingers blindly lacing his undeniable hardness pulsating from beneath.

You were rendered speechless, your teeth pressing into your lower lip as you attempt to find composure. Sebastian gently guided your hand, encouraging a stroking motion, eliciting a relieved moan from his lips as you delicately traced your fingers over the outline of his clothed cock.

Ominis extended his tongue, licking a long heated path against your exposed flesh, an overwhelming fire coursing through you. You sighed softly from his touch, your fingers clenched around Sebastian's throbbing arousal, drawing a low growl from him.

Your fingers fumbled along the fabric of his trousers, finding the buttons that concealed his stiffness. You deftly pushed the button through its slit, tugging Sebastian’s trousers down.

"Eager, aren't we?" Sebastian's fingers ran through your hair gently, granting you full control over your actions.

Meanwhile, Ominis pressed his tongue between your slick folds, sliding it up and down your wetness, savoring every inch of flavor. Your efforts to maintain a steady hand grew increasingly difficult as the overwhelming sensations threatened to take control over you. A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips, enveloping you whole.

You gasped, your hips buckling in response of the intrusion. Your hands quivered against Sebastian's hips as you shakily slid your fingers beneath the hem of his briefs, tugging with a subtle resistance until they yielded. His arousal sprang forward from the release as you enveloped your fingers around his warm veiny cock, pumping it slowly.

Sebastian's head tilted back with a guttural groan, his cock twitching in your hand. "Fuck..." He moaned, his fingers coiling tightly in your hair.

Ominis' tongue continued its relentless path along your clit, inducing a fervent writhing within your seat, nearly pulling away from him in the throes of pleasure. He anchored you firmly in place by hooking his arms beneath your thighs. Your legs draped over his arms, his hands maintaining a secure grip around your hips.

"Oh, fuck... Ominis..." You gasped, your voice ladened with desperation.

Sebastian's patience seemed to wane, forcefully pushing your head down until the tip of his throbbing cock pressed against your lips. His pre-cum warm and sticky.

"Open for me, darling," he commanded, his grip around your hair tightening once more.

You felt his gaze beaming down on you as you slowly parted your lips and enveloped the crown of his cock. Gradually, you descended, taking his length into your mouth at a leisurely pace. His arousal was warm and pulsating, the veins adorning his flesh glided against your tongue perfectly.

"Good girl..." He purred. "If only Ominis could witness what that pretty mouth of yours is doing."

Ominis raised his head, his tongue sensuously licking his lips clean of your lingering wetness. "If only you could taste this pretty cunt of hers," he mused, a note of breathlessness in his voice.

"Fuck, don't tempt me Ominis..." Sebastian exhaled, pushing his length further down your throat, causing you to gag around his cock. Your nails dig into Sebastian's hips as you slowly began bobbing your head, diligently wetting his cock.

"Go easy on her, Sebastian," Ominis urged softly before he descended between your thighs once more, lavishing your soaking core with a series of wet, sloppy kisses. He wrapped his lips around your swollen bud with a delicate touch, suctioning and twirling his tongue around it hungrily.

"Mmph..." You moaned breathlessly against Sebastian's cock, the vibrations of your moan prompting a husky groan from his lips.

"Ah... fuck... keep going," Sebastian demanded, his grip on your hair easing as he subtly pushed his length in and out of your mouth.

Ominis withdrew one arm from around your thigh, softly gliding it along your leg before ultimately pushing his finger into your slick entrance. Your body retracted, a moan instantly escaping around Sebastian's cock. However, Sebastian's firm hold pushed your head further down his throbbing shaft, granting you no reprieve.

"I didn't say you could stop," Sebastian insisted, thrusting deeply down your throat.

Ominis drove another finger forcefully inside you, initiating a relentless pace within your tight core, your legs growing weaker with every breath you take. Ominis quickened his pace, his lips suctioning ravenously around your clit. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of climax, he slowed down, withdrawing his lips from your needy cunt, leaving you hanging on the precipice of orgasm.

"She's close," Ominis hummed, his voice dripping with lust.

Sebastian sneered, drawing you back by your hair from his cock with a wet, suction-like noise. Finally, you could breathe freely again, your chest heaving as you attempted to regain your thoughts.

You felt Sebastian’s grasp around your hair dissipate as Ominis pulled away from your inner thighs. You were left there trembling, your cheeks a fiery shade of red. You inherently reached to remove your blindfold, but gentle hands intervened, preventing you from doing so.

"Wha—," you muttered, a color of confusion resonating within your voice.

"The game isn't over, my dear little bird," Ominis whispered softly, pulling your hands from the cloth that concealed your sight.

To Sabastian’s surprise, Ominis enjoyed this game just as much as he did. You felt the whirl of footsteps around you once more, baffled.

"It's not?" You asked, pouting slightly as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Ominis curled his fingers over your hands, pulling you from the chair. Your legs trembled slightly as you regained your poise.

“You still haven’t guessed which one of us gets to fuck that needy little cunt of yours,” Ominis’ voice carried with an undertone of hunger.

His words sent shivers down your spine, leaving you utterly baffled by what he was proposing, even Sebastian seemed caught off guard.

"Oh, so now you think this was a good idea, Ominis?" Sebastian sneered from behind you.

Ominis scoffed. You felt a tug at your hands, proceeding you towards your bed.

"Ominis, you can't just that and then be gentle with her. You're so confusing. Be a rough. It'll keep her guessing," Sebastian suggested, his tone laced with amusement.

"Then you be gentle," Ominis responded cryptically, his voice a soft counterpoint to Sebastian's.

Suddenly, a pair of hands pushed you backward, causing you to gasp as you tumbled onto your bed, the soft mattress providing an unexpected landing.

"Ominis—" you exclaimed, caught off guard by his actions.

"What makes you think that was me?" Ominis retorted softly, leaving you speechless and disoriented.

The two of them seemed to be playing a game of their own, leaving you thoroughly baffled. The weight of one of them settled on the bed behind you, and you couldn't help but grin, thinking you had it all figured out.

"It's much harder to conceal who's who if we're on a bed," your lips curl into a wider smile, confident in your own deduction.

"Is that so?" Ominis responded, his voice now seemingly coming from behind you.

"She thinks she’s got it all figured out," Sebastian taunts, his voice now in front of you, effectively shattering what you thought you knew.

Hands pressed firmly around your throat, tilting your head back into Ominis' shoulder while Sebastian pried your legs apart with a forceful touch. Their roughness left your voice hitching as your heated cavern pools with desire.

Lips crashed against yours with an insatiable hunger, immediately engaging your tongue in a messy dance. You moaned softly into the wet, desperate kiss, your tongue flicking sensuously against his.

Sebastian tugged you towards the edge of the bed, hoisting your thigh up with one hand. His throbbing tip traced a tantalizing path up and down your drenched folds, eliciting a shudder that reverberated through your body and onto the lips that devoured yours.

A sudden push into your core elicited a gasp, Sebastian's cock slowly breaching your entrance. You clung tightly to the bedsheets, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle your moans. The fingers wrapped around your throat squeezed gradually, temporarily cutting off your breath.

"Choke her harder, Ominis," Sebastian groaned, a sinister edge creeping into his voice, as they continued their relentless pursuit.

Your heart raced as you realized it was Ominis who possessed your lips and throat, his nails gently digging into your skin before he released his grip. He turned your head towards the side, his lips trailing from yours down to your throat, leaving a field of wet kisses that elicited soft moans through your parted lips.

Sebastian maintained a slow, steady pace, his cock thrusting in and out of you with an unrelenting rhythm. Your tightness around him caused him to grunt softly. "Fuck..."

Ominis' fingers curled under the hem of your satin shift, gradually pulling it up and over your chest until it halted at your shoulders. His lips, unwilling to part with your neck, left a gentle bite before finally letting go. He removed the rest of the camisole, leaving you completely pure of clothing. His hand circled around your breast, squeezing it gently as he planted butterfly kisses up and down your neck, his lips drawing along your collarbone and trailing across your shoulder.

Sebastian's forceful thrust sent a sharp cry of pleasure escaping your lips as you gripped the bedsheets tightly, your nails digging into the fabric. "Sebastian..." You moaned, biting down on your bottom lip.

He pressed the pads of his fingers into your thighs, leaving faint bruises in his wake as he quickened his pace. "Fuck..." He groaned, his cock pulsating within you. Sebastian’s nails nicked into your skin as he demanded you to say his name again. “Again, say it again.”

"S— Sebastian... fuck..." You gasped, beads of sweat forming across your body as you desperately moaned his name.

"Harder..." You begged, your voice filled with desperation as you fell back limp against Ominis' chest.

Your words sparked a dark fire within him. He slowed his pace, teasingly leaving you yearning for more. Ominis pulled away, allowing Sebastian to take full control. He flipped you onto your hands and knees, the blindfold finally relinquished at long last.

Sebastian's hips slammed into your ass with unbridled force, nearly eliciting a scream from you. He wrapped your hair around his fingers, using it as an anchoring point to thrust his hips vigorously against your body, each powerful movement driving you further to the edge.

“Fuck…” You gasped, your eyes finally laying upon Ominis before you. You watched as he unbuttoned his trousers and pulls them down along with his briefs, his cock flinging out before you, twitching with desperation. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

Ominis palmed his arousal briefly before pressing the sticky crowned tip against your lustful lips. You eagerly complied, opening your mouth and enveloping your lips around his throbbing cock. The relentless thrusts from Sebastian pushed you forward, forcefully taking in the rest of Ominis’ cock. You gagged, your throat constricting tightly around him.

Ominis’ face usually composed, now bestows a heavy hue of redness within his cheeks, sweat dripping down his jaw with labored breaths. The sight destroyed you.

As Sebastian pounds into you, you felt yourself tightening with each thrust, almost reaching your own limits.

Your mouth worked diligently around Ominis' arousal, a symphony of moans and gasps filling the air alongside Sebastian's powerful thrusts. Ominis ran his fingers tenderly through your hair, cradling the back of your head with each descent into your mouth. The sensations coursing through your body pushed you over the edge, trembling on your knees.

Sebastian's hands gripped around your ass firmly, a loud clasp against your skin sends tears welling within your eyes, a wince formed around Ominis’ cock.

Ominis shuddered, his cock twitching within your mouth as he released his salty mix, filling your mouth completely full, choking on it. His cum dripped from the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin as you struggled to swallow it all.

Sebastian's nails dig into your flesh as his thrusts gradually slowed. "Fuck... I'm gonna cum," he exclaimed, savoring every last second. With a final powerful thrust, he growled deeply, his cock twitching within your defiled cunt, releasing his load deep within you. You fell against the bed, exhausted and breathless. Your cheeks flushed, your eyes fluttering shut, too tired to do anything else. The bedsheets below you formed a tangled mess, adorned with sweat and cum.

Sebastian gradually eased his hips, thrusting gently in and out of your cunt before withdrawing. A trail of his cum leaked down your trembling thighs, you couldn't help but emit a soft, satisfied moan from the tingling sensation.

Sebastian's sinister snicker sliced through the air, his words dripping with tantalizing satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for us, aren't you?"

“But we’re not done with you yet,” Ominis’ voice resonated with a tinge of dissatisfaction.

Your weary eyes fluttered open, tracking Ominis as he silently circled the bed and assumed the position behind you. With an effort, you rolled onto your side, tracing his every movement, weakly muttering, "What do you mean you're not finished..?"

"Isn't it obvious, darling?" Sebastian's voice floated around the bed as he takes Ominis’ previous position.

You tilted your head back, catching a glimpse of Sebastian hovering over you as you finally turn onto your back. He leaned down, his lips brushing your earlobe as he whispered softly, "Ominis didn't get to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours."

Shock and realization rippled through you as you turned your focus back to Ominis.

Ominis wraps his hands around your welted thighs and pulled you closer to his hips, his grip firm on your thighs, his eagerness palpable as his cock twitched in suspension.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, your voice reduced to a feeble breath. "Ominis...”

With his fingers wrapped around his base, he teasingly traced the tip of his cock along the outskirts of your entrance. "Hmm… Aren't you curious? To have my cock deep inside you?" He pushed his tip just barely inside your cunt, eliciting a deep arch of your back as your head sank into the mattress, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation. "Fuck..." You gasped, your body responding despite the fatigue.

The crown of Ominis' cock finally penetrated, your hips involuntarily buckled as your fingers trembled at your sides.

"Ominis, please..." You begged, swaying your hips subtly.

"Hmm? What was that?" He teased, towering over you, pushing just a little further inside.

Sebastian's hand trailed a course down your bare body, his fingertips skimming your midriff until they found their destination. Goosebumps rippled across your flesh, curling your toes as your heart begins to race harder.

"Please..." You begged louder, your panting growing more urgent. "Fuck me, Ominis..."

Ominis’ lips curled into a grin as he pushed himself forcefully into you, eliciting a desperate cry from your lips. Sebastian’s fingers began circling your clit while his other hand found its way around your breast, relentlessly kneading your supple mount.

Your voice hitched from the overwhelming sensations. Ominis' cock fit perfectly within your tight, messy cunt. His movements a bit ragged compared to Sebastian’s smoother stride.

"Oh fuck—" You gasped, your hand reaching down towards Sebastian's wrist as he rolled the pad of his middle finger over your swollen clit, causing you to moan their names.

"Such a good little slut," Sebastian whispered against your ear. "You like it when Ominis fucks that cunt of yours?"

Your eyebrows furrowed together, squeezing your eyes shut as you frantically nodded.

"I didn't hear you," he growled against your ear.

"I... I..." You panted, unable to form coherent words.

Ominis slowed his pace, his form hovering above your, supported by his arms pressed into the bed. He questioned you with a dark tone, "You like it better with Sebastian's cock inside you, then?" His thrusts became increasingly intense, causing you to wince from the force.

"Oh fuck—" You yelped, almost certainly echoing within the corridors of the castle. You struggled for words as they both played with your senses relentlessly.

"Which one?" Ominis’ voice lowers in tone, almost an animalistic sound, increasing the rhythm of his thrusts.

You shuddered your nails digging into Sebastian’s wrist with a clouded mind. "Ominis— fuck..."

Sebastian sneered, observing you as you succumb to their little game. His lips met your breast, kissing and licking your pink bud softly while his finger continued to work on your clit, driving you closer to the edge. Your cunt tightened desperately around Ominis' cock as you felt yourself nearing your limits.

Beads of sweat dripped from Ominis' hair, falling against your midriff as he found the perfect rhythm. Sebastian's lips wrapped around your nipple, his tongue circling it, reflecting the movement of his hand below. Your body tensed slowly as your heart pounded within your chest.

"Oh fuck… I'm… I'm close…" You exclaimed breathlessly, your cunt tightening around Ominis' cock.

Sebastian's teeth grazed against your nipple as he deliberately slowed his finger down, prolonging your climax. He bit down softly, watching your visage as you approached the edge.

"Fuck…" Ominis growled, reaching his climax as well. Your head pressed back into the mattress, eyes rolling behind your lids as a surge of electricity raced up your legs, culminating where your two bodies meet. Euphoria washed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure as you gasped recklessly.

Your moans and gasps filled the air as you both climaxed. Ominis filled your cunt, overflowing onto the bed, causing a sticky mess. You found yourself completely unable to move, too tired to even think. You lay there in your own pool of cum and sweat, your chest heaving and your body quivering from exertion.

Ominis slowly pulled out, his cum dripping from his tip, falling beside you in bed with Sebastian on the other side of you. All three of you were exhausted. Sebastian brought his fingers toward his lips, licking his fingers clean of your sweet flavor with a smack of his lips.

"Mmm… you were right, Ominis. She does taste good," he smirked, his cock twitching from the delicious taste of you swirling around his tongue.

Ominis clasped his hand around the base of your neck and pulled you in close, his eyes effortlessly peering into yours despite his lack of sight.

"Happy Birthday," he said with a gentle press of his lips against yours.

"Can't wait for next year," Sebastian added, planting a wet kiss against your thigh.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you as you let out a soft, weary sigh. Your mind unable to conjure even the slightest inkling of what elaborate plans they might have in store for you.

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perlelune · 5 months

Text

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Staccato breaths mingle with the wild drumming of your heart as Coriolanus takes you to a place unknown, so far from where you live on the outskirts of town.

The freezing air sneaks under your skirt, causing your legs to tremble. Wherever you look, you’re surrounded by darkness, a cluster of clouds cloaking the moon now.

It reminds you how utterly alone you are.

Your tears soak the blue shirt of his uniform but he doesn’t seem to care. In your current upside down position, you can’t see his expression and it scares you even more.

You wonder what he’s thinking, why he’s doing this and, most importantly, what his plans are for you.

“Where are you taking me?” you inquire, your wavering voice dripping fear.

“It’s a surprise,” he announces, readjusting you on his shoulders.

You don’t like his tone, not one bit. It’s taunting with a sliver of resentment.

Somehow, you pissed him off at the bar and he wants to make you pay for it. Punish you for…for what exactly? It eludes you. All you did was dance with some guy and Coriolanus saw red.

You knew the peacekeeper was strange, but this is a step beyond that. He stole you. In public. It’s insane, deranged.

Lights finally pierce through the veil of the night, twinkling through the hazy obscurity. A faint shred of hope glimmers inside you. If there are people here, maybe you could shout for help, appeal to basic human decency. Back at the bar, no one would help you.

Part of you understands. This is the kind of fear the Capitol has instilled in everyone in Panem.

Still, a hint of bitterness lingers inside you. Not even Yara lifted a finger to help you. You thought she was your friend. But you suppose even that is asking for too much for someone like you. Even that is a luxury far beyond your means.

You confine tears. You do not wish to give the peacekeeper the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart.

He enters a building with bright lanterns scattered at its front. The smell of incense, cigarette and expensive perfume engulfs your senses, so overwhelming you can hardly breathe. A woman appears in your line of sight. She’s strikingly gorgeous. Glossy, raven curls frame her heart-shaped face and heavy makeup adorns her delicate features. She wears a low-cut red dress that must cost at least two months of your wages.

You frown, dull remembrance tugging at your brain.

Something about her is vaguely familiar.

Then it dawns on you, and your stomach coils in dread.

You’ve seen her before, at a bar in the northeastern part of town. She was working her charms on a man who slipped her a bag of coins before they disappeared together.

The urge to puke tickles the back of your throat. A brothel. Coriolanus has taken you to a brothel.

“Is our room ready?” he addresses the woman, impatience bleeding through his tone.

“It’s all been prepared like you asked, Mr. Snow,” she trills.

“Help me, please…” you beseech.

She tilts her head, a wide grin unfurling on her crimson-painted lips.

“She’s a pretty thing, your lass. Almost as pretty as you.”

Coriolanus reaches inside his pocket. The clinking of coins resonates as he drops a tiny purse in the woman’s hand. “Don’t disturb us,” he instructs.

She grabs the purse and beams at him.

“Wasn’t planning to.” Her cheerful inflection makes your stomach sink. “Our clients’ privacy is of the utmost priority.”

“Let me go you mon-”

The woman giggles. “She chirps an awful lot, that bird of yours.”

He heaves out a deep sigh, both weary and resigned. “She needs discipline, which is exactly why we’re here.”

His words do nothing to reassure you. You thrash again, legs flailing and hands reaching for any parts of him you can. He groans but doesn’t release you. He stomps upstairs.

Your mind runs wild as your fear grows. Soon, the blond reaches an ornate black door. He kicks it open with his boot. Once inside, he tosses you onto the canopy bed in the middle of the room. He slams the door closed and locks it. Your blood runs cold.

Without much thought, you clamber off the bed, awkwardly getting to your feet and heading straight for the door.

He grabs the back of your neck and yanks you away from the door. A strangled shout leaps from your throat.

Coriolanus peers down at you, bent in an uncomfortable position beneath him.

A look of mild annoyance decorates his handsome face.

“Still trying to run away? You never learn your lesson, pretty bird.”

“Let me go,” you croak, your pleading eyes searching for pity in his icy gaze. But you’re only greeted by contempt. Tears swell under your eyelids. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He snorts, like he can’t believe you’d ask something so ludicrous. He narrows his eyes at you, the fingers clamped around your nape squeezing harder.

“Why? Because you’ve been ungrateful,” he hisses.

Befuddlement trickles within you. “Ungrateful?”

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks.

“I help you, I save you.” A storm gathers in his enraged tone. “I do so much for you but you bat your lashes at some pathetic district scum?”

You cower beneath his accusing stare, in disbelief at what you’re hearing. Your lips clamp shut, your mouth quivering before you retaliate, “I’m district scum too.” You squint at him. “I’m district scum too so what do you even want with me, Coriolanus?”

He chuckles darkly, wrenching your head so far backwards, your neck starts singing in pain. He sinks to one knee, scrutinizing your shaking form on the floor.

“What do I want with you?” he echoes. His hold on your neck loosens to latch around your jaw instead. His scorching blue gaze dives into yours as his voice dips, whisper-soft. “Tell me, sweet bird, am I that repulsive to you?” Puzzled, you blink. Why does he even care what you think of him?

Your silence has him jostle your frame, as if trying to shake a reply out of you.

“Answer me,” he growls.

An hasty, breathless response tumbles out of you. “No.”

You hardly had to think, needing to simply utter the truth. Of course, Coriolanus is handsome, a feast for the eyes like a prince from a fairytale, with his smooth skin, free of any blemish, bright blue eyes and angular features. It’d be hard to deny how beautiful he is.

…But he’s not a prince, and you're not in a fairytale.

As your eyes lower, his fingers dig harshly into your cheeks.

“Look at me.” There’s a sharp edge of authority to his words. You lift your gaze, too terrified to dare divert your attention from him. He continues. “Do you find my face disgusting, my voice unbearable?” His mouth twitches. “Maybe it’s my smell. Is it atrocious?”

Tears dangle at your lashes as you mutter, “No.”

“Then why?” A blend of dismay and anger paints his features. “Why do you always run away from me? Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

“I don’t need you. I never needed you.”

His orbs flare dangerously. You shriek as he hauls you from the floor and hurls you on the bed.

“This is where you’re wrong. You live because of me. Your cousin lives because of me.” He begins removing the blue vest of his uniform, his motions irate and rushed. A lump nestles in your throat as you watch him zip down his pants next. “You owe me, and it’s about time you show me some gratitude.”

This time your attempt to flee is curtailed by a steely grip on your ankle. A knife-like sensation pierces your limb as he twists it cruelly. The pain knocks the wind from your lungs. You freeze and go limp over the sheets.

The blond’s forehead puckers, a contrite look flickering over his features.

“You’re making me do this. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re making me.”

He squeezes your shoulder and forces you to sit up at the edge of the bed. The air chills around you as he tugs down his white boxers, revealing his long, thick girth, glistening at the tip. You gulp the lump in your throat.

Your fingers clasp around the end of the bed as you gape at his erect cock. The vein along the shaft seems to taunt you. Cupping the side of your face, he nudges his tip against your wobbling lips.

“Open up,” he orders. He sneers when you don’t move an inch, “So stubborn…I can’t tell if I love or hate that about you, pretty bird.”

“Please…” you mumble, your glistening eyes rising to meet his.

He purrs, lust clouding his sky blue orbs. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“You’re even prettier when you beg me, birdie.” His tone mellows as he offers, “Open your mouth and I’ll make sure you never want for anything.”

Your mouth remains adamantly sealed.

Studying you, he ponders, “I’ve always found the punishment for thievery needlessly harsh.” He unleashes a dragged out, ponderous exhale. “For shame, I’m not sure your cousin will last very long here without you.” Your heart threatens to spill from your chest. A wicked, lopsided smile blooms on his lips as he fondles your cheek. “It’s a tough world, especially for a little girl all on her own, wouldn’t you say?”

Your chest collapses at his blatant threat. Even if your own fate mattered little to you, you can’t imagine Tilly fending for herself here. You’re all she has now and if she can’t rely on you, who will she be able to rely on?

Besides, she might be better now but she always had a fragile health. Someone needs to look out for her. And it has to be you.

It’s as if Coriolanus could hear every thought bouncing in your head, smugness oozing off him as he observes you.

Your lips part slowly. Victory illuminates his features.

He pumps his shaft, excitement bouncing in his orbs.

As he pushes his tip into your mouth, a hum of pleasure vibrates in his chest. You feel it through your own body and a shudder passes through you.

You quiver as you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip, silently wishing he’ll be quick about it. Maybe if you do it well enough, it won’t last long and he’ll leave you be.

Still, embarrassment pools in your gut. You’re letting a peacekeeper treat you like a common whore. You doubt your dignity will ever recover from this ordeal.

He grabs both sides of your face, impatient, pushing more of himself down your throat. Your mouth aches at the corners, the size of him nearly too much to bear.

“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

He slides his entire length down your throat until it tickles the back of it. You fight your gag reflex. The salty taste of him spreads on your tongue as you choke on his cock, air flailing in your lungs. He licks his lips, gently stroking your tear-stained cheeks.

“Good girl”, he praises.

He starts fucking your mouth, bruising your throat with each forceful thrust. Tears and spit mingle around your mouth as you take him as well as you can. You grow numb, eyes half-seeing as you let him use you.

Coriolanus’s throaty moans fill the room. The echo of his blunt thrusting reaches your ears. You feel sick.

You close your eyes, hoping to forget, but all you can see is him, hear is him, feel is him.

You wish you could climb out of your own skin.

His pounding turns more feral. Cradling the back of your head, he shoves himself more urgently inside you. His chest ripples as he grunts.

You weep, suffocating on his length. Your stifled cries join the lewd sounds he makes. Your fists tighten around the sheets as your vision dims.

His motions become sloppier as he snarls, a look of sheer bliss decorating his handsome face.

His cock twitches, his eyes rolling back. A warm stickiness glazes the inside of your mouth. A groan leaves him as ropes of him pour down your throat. When you try to pull back, he firmly keeps you there, framing your face so you can’t escape.

The excess trickles on your chin and neck.

You shudder, quaking sobs wracking your body.

A wet sound resonates when his softening cock finally exits your mouth. You inhale a wide lungful, thankful to be able to breathe again but disgusted by the bittersweet aftertaste still coating your tongue. You wish you could bleach the inside of your mouth many times over.

He collects your tears with his thumbs, his smile growing as he basks in the sight of the mess he made on your face.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, my sweet bird,” he croons.

You plunge your hands in the frigid water, roughly rubbing the clothes against one another. You focus on a willful beer stain that won’t come off no matter how much you try. Frustration blooms inside you as the brown lingers on the beige fabric.

You grimace. This was one of your nicer blouses. Now it’s forever ruined, tainted beyond recovery.

Yara wrings her skirt above the bucket, her attentive eyes clinging to you. When she offered to do laundry together this morning, you expected a plethora of questions. Instead, she spent the last hour mirroring your silence.

You’re grateful. While her presence soothes you, there are many topics you’d rather not broach. One in particular. A memory you went to great lengths to bury but won’t let itself be erased. You feel branded, like you don’t belong to yourself anymore.

It’s a ghastly prospect, one you have no desire to mull over too deeply.

You’d rather focus on laundry today. Washing, rinsing, drying and repeating. The tedious routine keeps the scary thoughts at bay. At least for a little while.

“Tilly’s doing a lot better.”

Yara’s abrupt words stagger you. Your head snaps up. Your focus veers to your younger cousin. She’s sitting by the fire playing noughts and crosses with her friend. The two little girls are wrapped up in the thin lines they’re drawing with white chalk on the stone floor, concentration etched on their small features.

She has been doing better. Much better than she has the entire year, though it guts you to admit it. She can laugh, play, run and be a normal kid.

…And you have the little care packages Coriolanus has been dropping on your doorstep to thank for that.

It stuns you that he even found out where you live so easily. You thought you were careful.

Now you don’t even feel safe in your own modest home.

There is nowhere to hide from the peacekeeper.

While he hasn’t shown up in person, his presence hovers over every aspect of your life.

You live because of me.

“Yeah,” you reply tritely.

Hands going still in the water, Yara observes you for a while, hesitation wrinkling her features.

Eventually she dips her head, averting her gaze as she mumbles, “I shouldn’t have let him take you away.”

Guilt bleeds through her tone. Sighing, you peer at her. While you resented being on your own, you’re also keenly aware there is nothing she could have done.

“It’s not your fault,” you reassure. “I’d be scared too. I am scared,”

Though sadness still glistens in her eyes, she nods.

“Did he…” She trails off, sucking in a deep breath as if to gather the courage to speak again. Her gaze meets yours head on. “D-Did he hurt you?”

Goosebumps erupt at the base of your spine, spreading outward as your mouth trembles.

“In a way,” you answer belatedly.

Shock covers her features.

“We should tell Commander Crane…”

You scowl. “We can’t.”

Not only does the ruthless Commander of District 8 harbors little to no sympathy for anyone’s plight, he may be more concerned about your thievery charges than any misdeed carried out by one of his Peacekeepers.

Such are things in District 8. Unjust and bereft of any morsel of hope.

“But we have to do something, report him,” she insists.

Irritation nips at you. You wish she’d drop it. It’s not like anyone will come to your rescue. You’re not some damsel in distress, a precious lady from the Capitol in trouble.

You’re no one. Some might even say district garbage.

“Yara, he’s some rich kid from the Capitol, and I’m…we’re just…” The words shrivel on your tongue, hopelessness cresting within you. “It’s best to leave it alone, trust me.”

“But…”

“It'll only get worse if I fight him,” you snap.

A puzzled expression appears on your friend’s face. “Worse in what way?”

In what way indeed? You’ve no idea how far Coriolanus Snow is willing to go to torment and toy with you. There’s a glint of madness in his blue eyes which haunts your nightmares.

You go quiet.

You pick up the drenched blouse from the bucket of water, wringing it until your hands start to hurt.

Yara’s soft voice rises, encouragement laced in her tone.

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll get bored at some point, move on,” she says. “I mean he has to, right?”

She smiles at you and you return it.

“Right.”

But deep inside, you’re not so sure, dire thoughts of pretty boys with devilish smiles swaying in your mind.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games

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tragedybunny · 4 months

Text

Loving Him

༺Synopsis ༻ You and Astarion are out travelling the world. Tonight you decide to spoil him with your attention.

༺Pairing ༻ Astarion x F!Reader

༺Warnings ༻ 18+ , fellatio, vaginal sex

༺Word Count ༻ 1820

Thanks to @bunnidarling for the Beta.

The sun was fading, pinks and oranges playing prelude to lavenders and indigos, then the velvety black finale of the night. A night of rest, you thought contentedly, just the two of you and this lovely little clearing you'd found to camp in.

Normally, you would stay at what inns would have you, but you'd been between towns when daylight grew near. Just off the road through the woods you found a small, oddly shaped, clearing that was level enough so that you wouldn’t be sleeping in a mud puddle. “Do you think you can handle sleeping outdoors again, or are you too used to the luxury of a real bed?” Astarion had teased as the tent went up in the last hour before dawn.

“I wasn’t the one who whined endlessly about it,” you shot back with a grin. Neither of you loved roughing it, but it happened sometimes on your journey across Faerûn. Thus, you’d dug your supplies out of the modified Bag of Holding that Gale had gifted you, and made camp. It was an extremely useful gift, modified into a small backpack one of you carried while the other carried a mundane pack with essentials you might want to access with ease, the Bag could be a bit tricky for finding things quickly.

Though, you couldn’t complain as it also allowed you to indulge in a bit of luxury: a carpet spread out near your fire dappled with large cushions to lounge on, where you sat in nothing but a thin nightgown. The tent you shared bore a similar enchantment to the bag, making it larger and more luxurious on the inside, the cots and blankets disappearing easily into it as it was taken down. Tonight you’d spread out your cushion nest by yourself while Astarion tranced. It was a habit of his to wait until the last few hours before sunset, remaining awake throughout the day, either in your tent or wherever you’d found to stay.

You were nocturnal yourself these days, staying up past dawn to visit markets that weren’t open at night and make any necessary arrangements, and finding sleep sometime after. Astarion would usually cuddle up to you until you drifted off, and then return to your side to trance. Today though, you’d had trouble sleeping and come out to enjoy the evening, watching the sunset.

As soon as the light faded, your vampiric love emerged from the tent. It was a rare sight to see Astarion not looking perfectly put together, one only you were so regularly privy to. Curls disheveled, eyes hazy with sleep, he stood in the moonlight in nothing but a night shirt that came down to mid-thigh. “Good evening, darling,” he purred, voice thick and sultry.

Heat came instantly to your core just looking at him. Tonight was a night of rest, such urges shouldn't go to waste. “Hello my love,” you crook a finger and beckon him toward you, a sinful smile on your lips.

His crimson eyes light up, knowing you were up to something. Astraion’s reclaimed bodily autonomy had led you to finding ever greater physical pleasures in each other. Rising from the cushion you leaned on, you settle on your knees before him. “May I?” Your gaze peers up at him through your lashes to find his eyes already hooded and dark.

“Go right ahead, you sweet little thing,” he invites, urging you on. If only he knew what you were thinking.

The first touch of your lips is against his inner thigh, and you feel him shiver as they continue up his pale skin. Your teeth sink into his soft flesh in their wake, leaving little red marks blooming on him. He groans and you want to leave the kind of marks that would last, dark and beautiful, but you had other things on your mind.

Pushing the night shirt out of your way, you reach your goal, his cock, already starting to stiffen for you. Gods, was there a more glorious sight in all the realms? You look up again, asking without words. “Don’t leave me waiting love,” he breathes, betraying the effect you were having on him.

Grasping him in one hand, you stroke gently as your tongue darts out to lick along the sensitive underside of his member. His hitched breath spurs you on, and you lavish your tongue over him, long strokes, drawn out teasingly over the sensitive head, emerging from his foreskin.

The temptation is too great to resist and you greedily take all of him into your mouth before long, pushing yourself as far down his length as you could without gagging. Your reward is a moan that leaves wetness blooming between your thighs. A hand tangles in your hair as you start to move, taking him again and again to your limit.

The feel of him bumping into the back of your throat is always delicious, but you need more. You let him slide from your mouth to a disappointed sigh. “Lie down, I want you to just let me do everything,” you gesture to your abandoned cushion, “and get that night shirt out of my way.”

“Feisty tonight,” he smiles down at you, but acquiesces to your whim. Typically, it was Astarion who took charge of your intimate moments, guiding you, instructing you, dominating you. But tonight, you want to lead, to let him simply experience pleasure.

The night shirt is carelessly flung to the ground, leaving you with an uninhibited view of that body you’d learned to crave. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, holding back a hungry noise. Astarion settles himself down onto the cushion, his thighs spread enough to leave a perfect space for you. “You’re going to spoil me if you do all the work.”

“Hush,” you scold, pulling your nightgown over your head, and letting the cool evening breeze tingle your skin. Astarion makes an appreciative sound and you turn to find his eyes devouring and can tell he’s fighting the urge to grab and push you down to the ground and have his way with you. He’ll have to wait for that.

You don’t leave the space he’d made for you empty for long, kneeling between his thighs and lowering yourself until your lips wrap around him and one hand encircles the base of his cock. Sucking, you work him both hand and mouth, bobbing up and down.

No longer holding back, the night is filled with his little sounds of passion as you worship him with your mouth. Invariably, hands wrap back into your hair and he tries to thrust up, to take back control. Your free hand pushes him back down and you leave it resting on his hip, a warning you could stop if he doesn’t behave.

Drool dribbles over the corner of your mouth as you're once again taking him to the back of your throat. The salty taste of precum tingles your tongue as you press it as hard as you can against him. The hand on his hip traces it’s way down his thigh, nails lightly skimming his skin, then back up, traipsing along his stomach, to his chest.

In your mouth, his cock gives a little twitch. Too close, you pull off. The audacious bastard has the nerve to whine. Your hand wraps around him and you stroke a few times, not enough to alleviate what he’s feeling. “What’s the matter love?” You lock gazes with him from where you're still kneeling between his legs, daring him to try again to take the lead.

Eyes hazy with lust, he pants, and words mix with incoherent noise. “You - absolutely maddening - tease.”

“Should I stop?” You release him and sit back, hands resting on your thighs.

An actual growl slips from his throat and he begins to sit, reaching for you. Hands on his shoulders, you push him back down to the cushion. “None of that.”

How willing he’s been to play along surprised you, and it continues to as he yields, laying back down. “Just relax, enjoy this.”

Straddling his thighs, you nudge them back together, no doubt he can feel the heat and wetness of your core as it rests on him. Leaning down, you plant a searing kiss on him, lips parting and tongues entwining. Your grip still firm on his shoulders, you kiss your way down his neck, biting and sucking until a proper mark forms. His purpled skin is gorgeous and you kiss it again before moving on to leave another. Cool fingers dig into your hips but nothing more as he moans softy at your attentions.

Hips slide over his, his cock running the length of your drenched slit. “Fuck,” he whispers, breath tingling your ear, and you can’t wait another moment. Reaching down, you roll your hips, and guide him inside you, whimpering when at last you’re filled.

Sitting back up straight, you move, hips grinding against his, and delicious friction filling you. “Gods,” you moan, he’s not doing anything and this man can still undo you.

“My beautiful girl, you ride me so good,” fuck him and that mouth of his. “Can I touch you sweetheart, please?”

That hadn’t been your plan, but his soft plea along with the maddening feel of him inside you crumples your will. “You may,” you barely manage.

He doesn’t need more encouragement for his fingers to quickly find your sensitive bud and begin rubbing rough circles over it. You’re both too far gone for gentleness, and you relish the firm touch. Pace quickening, you lean down, hips moving at a brutal rhythm, so badly you want to bring him to climax, but those masterful fingers have had their way with you and soon you’re close.

He can tell by the scent, he’s told you, and the way your pulse beats, exactly when you can’t stand it anymore. “Go on love, come for me.”

With a keening sound, you give in, clenching around him, still rolling your hips. “Astarion,” you moan, almost unable to keep moving.

Pulling you down, he finally wrests control from you, and fucks up into you with maddened thrusts. “My love, my sweet darling girl, you’re so good to me.” He stiffens and gasps, lips finding yours as his release fills you.

Collapsing down onto his chest, you lay there in a warm daze, Astarion’s arms wrapping around you. “This was quite the enjoyable turn of events,” you feel his lips in your hair. “Though you’ll have to try harder next time to keep in control.”

“Do you ever shut up,” you huff and try to glare up at him from where you lay.

“Only when you make me,” he teases only to be cut off by your lips on his.

The two of you fall silent and rest in each other’s arms, you’ll need to gather your strength if you’re to try this again.

Tag list, DM to be added

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #x reader #my fanfic #my writing #astarion x tav

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sttoru · 5 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒.

‘malaysia, ah. . . yeah, malaysia —kuantan would be nice.’

☀︎｜nanami kento x female reader. fluff (or is it?) + heavy angst. jjk spoilers (season 2, episode 18) / chapter 120. you’re married. mentions of blood. sad / bittersweet ending. major character death. don’t show your friends who stan nanami this, they might jump from a building <3

sunny weather with a gentle breeze and the sounds of the crashing waves eventually landing ashore. the peace and quiet that most long for.

“kento, you’ve been reading for a while now.”

ah, and the voice of his lovely wife whom he cherishes most. a perfect setting — a safe space for someone who doesn’t know what right or wrong is anymore. for someone who’s tired of the way the world is.

time seems frozen when you spend it with the one you love most. and when you spend it somewhere you wish to actually be.

kento looks up from his book, eyes meeting the alluring clear stretch of ocean and the blue sky that held no clouds. his gaze then falls back down on the page he had last read — or, perhaps it was the previous page that he had been reading. or maybe the one before that. or perhaps he hadn’t even started the story.

he doesn’t know anymore. the pile of books that laid next to the rocking chair were all but a beautiful mystery. he had opened them, read them over and over, yet not a single word had been remembered.

kento doesn’t remember.

“kento?” your voice calls out once more. the sorcerer tilts his head back to look up at the one calling. there you were, standing next to him, hands on his shoulders with a gentle smile on your face.

you looked angelic. you looked like all he wanted. all he needed — a perfect complete picture.

kento hums and simply nods in response before looking down at the unknown novel in his hands, “yes, sorry, darling. i got a bit too caught up in the book.”

typical him.

a calming sound of laughter leaves your lips and kento instantly relaxes his shoulders — which he didn’t even know were tense in the first place. as if on cue, your fingers move to massage the muscles.

kento closes his eyes and sighs. he doesn’t bother putting a bookmark between the pages before closing the hardback. not like he needs it if he couldn’t even recall what he had skimmed through.

his eyes move under his eyelids — almost like they’re searching for something under the darkness of the curtains that were casted. the only thing he was focusing on right now were the noises on the beach and your sweet voice.

kento furrows his brows; the sounds of the crashing waves had soon overwhelmed the soft sound of your voice. a moment of peace was disturbed by the loud waves—waves that sounded more aggressive than gentle like they were seconds ago.

waves that sounded like continuous slashes.

a droplet of something warm falls on his skin and his eyes flutter open.

the sea was still there. the beach was still there. the house he had bought was still there. but most importantly, you were still there. though, there was an undeniable change in the atmosphere.

“you’re having a nosebleed.”

your worried comment makes kento stare up at you in confusion. a nosebleed? the pad of his thumb grazes over his upper lip. and there it was; the crimson stain slowly flowing down his finger, “oh.”

kento remembers. he remembers everything clearly. the sudden calmness in his surroundings that were once hectic; why he couldn’t recall what he had read; why the sounds of the waves had changed into something more ominous as the moments passed.

the realisation dawns upon him — and it hit hard.

“i’m tired. i really am tired.” the sorcerer mutters at last. his body was exhausted. his eyes were droopy. things were beginning to fade. the realisation was beginning to kick in. the effects of the hallucinations was starting to wear off.

he gazes at you one more time. his weak hand reaches out to yours and he interlocks your fingers. it pained him to see your eyes filled with sorrow and worry. even if you were but a fraction of his imagination.

maybe that’s how you actually are sitting on the couch in your shared home. maybe you are waiting on him to come back to you.

kento wouldn’t blame you if you did. he did promise that he’d be back, as did he do every other day. and he did come back as promised each time.

well, except for today.

“i didn’t know you were here.” the blonde sorcerer’s hoarse voice calls out once his peaceful surroundings had disappeared into thin air.

malaysia, kuantan — the beach — you. all but a nice dream. perhaps an alternative reality which he wished he could be in right this moment.

“yup. the whole time.”

kento looks down at the familiar face. the blue-haired executioner who was on the brink of finishing his lifetime once and for all.

one last sigh leaves kento’s lips; his life flashing before his eyes. both his regrets and satisfactions—his achievements and hopes.

and lastly, the moment of peace he had experienced before his time was over. you had helped him until the very end — giving him the peace he much needed during his suffering. a dream in the form of all he wished to have; of you.

the dream was a sweet replica of what could have been. but unfortunately, human dreams must always come to an end — and reality is what must be faced once they do.

that’s the way it is.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fic #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk spoilers

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blueparadis · 7 months

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╰┈➤ ATLAS✦ DILUC RAGNVINDR.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Wearing a bunny outfit was indeed a good idea to attract customers but little did you know, it would attract the attention of the owner of Dawn Winery.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ bar tender!fem!reader x diluc rangnvindr, explicit smut, piv sex, semi-public, unprotected, cunnilingus, s/d dynamics, soft-dom!diluc, mentioned aftercare. 1,4k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

“What a pleasant surprise is this” The familiar deep voice puts a cease to your merry humming. You turn around facing none other than the owner of Dawn Winery, Diluc Raghvinder, your master. Has he been waiting here? Alone? In the dark?

You try to brush him off by stacking the bottles from the crate one by one, carefully and slowly so as not to break any of them. “I had to get more customers somehow,” your tart reply makes him walk towards the door and press the knob to close it. He is standing right beside the door. If you were to go out of the wine cellar, you have to solely depend on your luck and so far it has not been shining on you lately.

“I’m not done talking,” He scoops you against his body as his voice echoes in the room.

“Well, it can wait, can't it, master Diluc? The bar is overflowing with customers by Archon’s grace and I need to be on my way to serve them.”You struggle in his grasp as you speak, trying to get out of his arms that caged you the more you tried to retaliate against his touches. This is not the first time he has been sneaky, actually, he has a history. You have gotten used to it somehow. You would have let him turn the wheel like he usually does but not right now.

“Wait. Wait.” With a low husky voice, a huff in between he speaks again. This time softer, “I— I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn't have snapped at you the other day, when I said you weren't doing your job right enough.” His breath fanned against your ears as he slid his nose all over your upper chest, at the exposed area, and having his arms locked around your stomach was not helping either.

“Let me go—I've got work to do.” You still protect, try to deflect his soft, slow, and steady touches. It always starts like this but ends up with him sinking his teeth onto your skin, marking you his, reminding you of him wherever you try to go, however far you try to run.

“Don’t,” Diluc muttered, undoing the strings of the first hook. You could feel your boobs relax, chest muscles free of tension and pressure. “You have done enough,” Turning you towards him to face his body, he slipped his fingers along your inner thigh at the lining of your dress playing with it. He must add that the stockings added a great flavor to your dress, not to mention to your alluring aura and how you carried yourself around the elites, guests, regulars, and normal customers but it is a hindrance now. “You have done enough my sweet bunny.” He repeated with a honey-dewed tone before tearing the stockings, running and sliding his hands up and down your thighs. His touches are not gentle anymore. It is rough and intense.

“Wait— Sir Diluc,” You moan as his tongue travels along the column of your throat followed by his soft lips placing open-mouthed kisses. Diluc does not provide you another chance to talk, to resist rather you are lost in his crimson gaze as he pulls the string at your back undoing most of it, at least to have a good look on your nipples.

“Your nipples are hard.” He exclaims looking at them, insatiably making you push his chest but he is bigger than you, stronger than you. Even if your hands are mobile and free, there is nothing much you can do. It is adorable that you are still resisting. “Tell me bunny, did it turn you on walking around like this among those customers?” He leans towards your face whispering, “Or does the thought of making me hard during work turn you on?”

Holding both of your palms in one fistful grab he arches his hips against your waist letting you feel his boner. If his hungry gaze did not make you wet while you were serving drinks at the bar, feeling his hard-on sure did. Diluc actually gave you time to answer yet it led to nothing but another disappointment. His patience was running out of time. You were like a rabbit in his trap and he could not just wait to devour you, have his way with you.

“Ya’know it is rude not to answer, especially your master.” He says with a brooding look on his face. His voice is steady, nothing mere of annoyance can be pointed in his way of talking either but the way he keeps his eyes on you tells everything.

“nei—neither.”

“Sorry. What was that?” Now he is just playing with his food. “Couldn't hear you properly. Come again?” He paused, looking at your hands that rested perfectly on his chest. “Or I should just check it by myself,” Before those words could register in your brain, he swiftly turned you around, pushing you onto the table.

“Wai-wai-wait-wait” you blabber but it is too late. You could feel his hands over your ass cheeks, caressing roughly and now your red bunny outfit was in tatters. Your face laid hot against the glass of the wooden table as your master crouched down. Taking a good look he exclaimed, “what a pretty little liar.”

His fingers are now teasing your wet clit, exploring and rubbing them. “What a fat pussy you have,” he says before lapping his tongue from the base to up your buttocks. An elongated groan escaped his mouth along the strain in his trousers growing more and harder to bear.

“Ahh! Sir Diluc, please . . . more.” A stifling moan finally escaped your lips. Diluc spread apart your pussy lips apart and started to suck and lick alternatively with so much zeal, as if he was given the an opportunity to taste the finest wine in Mondsndat.

The squelching and sucking noises were getting louder and louder while your body was slowly giving in, submitting to his urges. Your mind might be heavy on how unethical it is to have a physical relationship with your boss, but there is no way your body can deny him now. He has become your need, your saviour.

“Sir Diluc . . . Sir . . .Diluc. . . Diluc.”

There was no response other than the wet noises that Diluc elucidated with his mouth at service. But seeing you all fidgeting and restless, your arms stretching to reach your clit, legs quivering and growing apart further he finally stood up. Unzipping his pants, springing free his cock out his trousers he grabbed your hips.

“I’m putting it in,” He said but rather delayed it by smearing the cockhead with your juices. A jolt full of shivers ran through your nerves, skin coating with goosebumps before he pushed his cock to the tip in one full strong stroke. He was not joking when he warned you. Another prolonged groan before Diluc started to snap his hips against yours — deep and rough, calculated and hard; each stroke hit your sweet spot with so much precision that you had to cover your mouth from moaning loudly.

With your shame coagulated at the core of your throat, Diluc rasped, “This is my house. My property.”He hovered above you, kissing your shoulders, and said, “Tell me, darling, who exactly do you fear ?” And a harsh slap landed on your ass eliciting a shrill moan from you. His strokes are getting more erratic now. “Keep those pretty moans coming. Think you can do that for me?” he coaxed as he pulled you up holding you against his body, close to his chest.

“Yes. ’course. Sir Diluc.” You reply with vision blurred, the red bunny outfit layered at your belly button and the bottom part was in ruins. Diluc could not help but be impressed at your obedience. “Good Girl.” he praises “My good girl.” As he grabs your tits before hammering his cock into your hole again, panting and moaning; singing along with you in the same melody.

Your nostrils could no longer smell the sweet aroma of the wines, rather the smell of sweat mixed with expensive cologne hit your nostrils. With a few longer and broad strokes he cums, and finishes inside you. His hands let go of the harsh hold on to your body but clasp around you with his cock still inside you, as both of you come down from high.

You finally reciprocate his touches as you hold his palms, and interlace your fingers with his. As you kiss his hand, he murmurs, “Didn't know scolding you would make you wear a bunny outfit.”

You tilted your face to see him. With a smirk you reply,“didn’t know wearing red would do the trick.” with a wink.

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dee-writes-smut · 14 days

Text

FALL (Part Three)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY after falling down a flight of stairs, you are forced to realize that you aren't alone and that it's time to start healing.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, nosy Rhys, Amren (she's a warning), and injuries

AUTHORS NOTE I kind of hate this a lot, but here is the third part of the Season's series, Fall. Hope you enjoy! <3

Autumn descends upon the world like a tender-hearted healer, enveloping all in its embrace of warmth and renewal. The air takes on a crisp clarity, carrying with it the subtle scent of earth and fallen leaves, a fragrance that whispers of new beginnings. Trees, once adorned in the lush greens of summer, now don their autumnal attire, each leaf a masterpiece of vibrant hues—amber, crimson, and gold—painting the landscape in a tapestry of healing colors.

As daylight wanes, the sun bathes the world in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows that dance gracefully upon the earth. The breeze, gentle yet invigorating, rustles through the trees, a comforting melody that speaks of resilience and growth. With each step, fallen leaves crinkle beneath our feet, a soothing reminder of the cycle of life and the beauty found in letting go.

In the fall, nature herself undergoes a profound transformation, shedding the old to make way for the new. Trees release their leaves in a graceful dance of surrender, preparing for a period of rest and rejuvenation. Yet, even in this quietude, there is a vibrant energy that pulses through the air, a reminder that healing is not a passive act, but a journey of growth and renewal.

As I found myself immersing in the healing embrace of autumn, I was invited to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the beauty of transformation. Like the earth itself, I was reminded of my innate capacity to heal, to grow, and to emerge stronger and more vibrant than before. In the gentle caress of the autumn breeze, I found solace, strength, and the promise of new beginnings.

(Early September, House of Wind)

Morning light spilled through the windows of the House of Wind, painting the stairwell in hues of gold and amber. Each step I took down the winding staircase echoed softly, the sound muffled by the quiet of the early hour. Shadows danced along the walls, elongated and wavering, as if unsure of their own existence in the gentle glow of dawn.

As I descended, a flicker of movement caught my eye—a subtle shift in the darkness that should not have been there. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. The shadows seemed to solidify, taking shape in the form of a figure I knew all too well. It was Lyris, his smirk cruel and taunting, his blade gleaming with malice in the dim light.

Panic surged through me, my breath catching in my throat. It wasn't real, I told myself, but the terror it invoked was. Before I could react, before I could rationalize, my foot missed the next step. There was no time to regain my balance, no wings to unfurl and catch me. I reached out desperately, fingers grasping for the banister, but it was too late.

The world tilted violently as I fell, the sharp pain of impact shooting up my spine as I collided with the unforgiving stairs. Each jolt sent waves of agony coursing through me, my body bouncing helplessly until I finally came to a crumpled stop at the bottom of the staircase. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to gather my bearings, the pain a sharp, throbbing ache in every limb.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Then, Azriel was there, his face a mask of concern as he knelt beside me. "Don't move," he said softly, his hands hovering over me with a hesitant touch. "We need to get you to the healer."

"I'm okay," I lied, attempting to push myself up despite the searing pain that shot through me. The room spun sickeningly, and I winced, sinking back down with a pained gasp.

"No, you're not," Azriel insisted, his voice firm but gentle. He assessed me quickly, his expression grave. "We need to get you off these stairs. Can you stand?"

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, frustration and pain mingling into a bitter concoction. "I don't… I can't…" I faltered, unable to voice the depth of my vulnerability.

"It's okay. I've got you." Azriel's arms enveloped me, lifting me gently from the cold, hard floor. I buried my face against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat amidst the chaos of my own.

As we moved, the memory of the fall replayed in my mind—the hallucination of Lyris, the terror of losing my footing. I had lost more than just my wings that day; I had lost a piece of myself. How was I supposed to heal when my own mind betrayed me with such vivid, haunting illusions?

Azriel's presence was a silent promise of protection, his concern a soothing balm to my fractured psyche. I clung to it, to him, as we made our way to the healer's chambers, the shadows of the stairwell receding into the background as we stepped into the light of a new day. I would allow myself to let him seep in my darkness for a moment. I would be selfish for just this moment and then it would be back to struggling alone, to protecting them, him.

Madja's room was filled with the subtle scent of lavender and sage, a calming ambiance that did little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The healer's hands were warm and gentle as she applied salves to the bruises that marbled my skin, her touch careful around the tender areas where my wings once were.

"You're healing well physically," Madja said softly, her voice soothing. "But healing the mind… that takes time, and often more than just my skills." She offered me a small, understanding smile, though her eyes were stern, hinting at the depth of her concern.

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, shadows swirling slightly at his feet—a sure sign of his inner turmoil. Madja excused herself with a knowing look, leaving us alone.

I shifted on the cot, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I faced him. "Azriel," I began, but my voice cracked, betraying my nervousness.

He moved closer, his movements graceful and deliberate. Stopping at the edge of the cot, he knelt so he was eye level with me, his gaze intense. "I've been patient," he said, his voice low and strained. "I've given you space, but we can't keep avoiding this conversation."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before gently brushing a stray hair back from my face. "I know you're hurting. And I know I can't understand everything you're going through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to go through this alone."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. "It's not just the pain, Azriel. It's the fear," I confessed, the words tumbling out. "Every shadow, every noise—it takes me back to that moment. And I feel so powerless."

His expression softened, the shadows receding slightly as if in response to my distress. "I wish I could take that fear away," he murmured. "But since I can't, I'll stand with you against it. Every step of the way, until you feel strong again."

"How do you do it?" I asked, searching his face. "How do you live with your own shadows?"

A sad smile tugged at his lips. "By knowing which shadows are mine to control, and which are simply part of the world. And by having people I love to light the way when it gets too dark."

"What if I'm not strong enough?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. Despite my efforts to steel myself against the pain, I couldn't help but curl into myself, feeling small and vulnerable in the face of my own fears. "What if I never get over this and—" I choked back my tears once more, the fear gnawing at my insides too overwhelming to voice aloud.

Azriel's heart clenched at my words, the rawness of my pain mirroring his own. With aching tenderness, he reached out, his hand hovering over mine, a silent beacon of comfort in the darkness. "You are strong," he said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance. "Stronger than you realize. But even the strongest among us have moments of doubt, moments when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear."

My eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, sought solace in his unwavering gaze. "And if you never get over this… if the shadows linger longer than you'd like, know that you are not alone. We'll face them together, every step of the way."

The weight of my fear trembled through my shoulders; the depth of my anguish palpable in the air. "But what if I pull you all into it too?" I whispered, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What if my darkness becomes yours?"

Azriel's heart ached at the thought, but he refused to let me drown in my despair. "Your darkness is not a burden," he said, his voice steady, unwavering. "It's a part of you, just as much as your light. And I would walk through the darkest of nights if it meant I could stand beside you."

He reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring me to the present moment. "Let me help you carry this weight," he urged, his eyes locking with mine. "Let us carry it together."

For a moment, there was only silence—a heavy, pregnant pause that hung between us, charged with unspoken emotions. And then, with a shaky breath, I nodded, my grip tightening around his hand as if anchoring myself to his steadfast presence.

In that moment, as we sat together in the quiet sanctuary of Madja's room, surrounded by the gentle scent of herbs and healing, Azriel felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. No matter how dark the path ahead, no matter how daunting the shadows that loomed on the horizon, we would face them together. And with love as our guiding light, we would find our way back to the warmth of the sun.

(Mid-October, River House)

The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as I gathered the courage to speak, surrounded by the Inner Circle whose presence felt both comforting and daunting. Cassian's warm gaze, Nesta's softened expression, Rhys and Feyre's silent solidarity, Amren's unreadable yet somehow reassuring presence, and Mor's gentle smile—all of them were a testament to the depth of their care.

With Azriel standing at my side, his silent support a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions, I began to speak. My voice, though laced with uncertainty, carried the weight of my sincerity as I addressed them.

"I want to apologize," I began, each word heavy with meaning as I met their eyes, one by one. "For the distance I've kept, for the walls I've built around myself. I've been… cold, and for that, I'm truly sorry.

A hushed tension hung in the air, anticipation mingling with apprehension as they waited for me to continue. But instead of judgment or reproach, I found only understanding in their expressions—compassion and empathy reflected in their unwavering gazes.

"I'm ready to try," I confessed, the admission a revelation in itself. "To try again.. To heal."

Cassian's hand found mine, his touch grounding and reassuring as he squeezed gently. "We're here for you," he declared, his voice a solemn vow. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it."

Nesta's usually sharp gaze softened, her features etched with genuine concern. "We've missed you," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "But we understand. And we'll stand by you, no matter what."

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a silent glance, their unity a beacon of strength amidst the uncertainty. "You're not alone," Rhys affirmed, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll face this together, as a family."

Amren nodded curtly, her demeanor as inscrutable as ever, yet there was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes that spoke volumes. "Don't make a habit of apologizing," she quipped dryly, a subtle reassurance in her words.

Mor's smile was gentle, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf me. "We love you," she said simply, her words a promise of unwavering support.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I absorbed their words, the weight of their acceptance washing over me like a tidal wave. In that moment, surrounded by the love and understanding of my chosen family, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me yet.

With Azriel's hand firmly clasped in mine, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the arduous journey ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road to recovery would be fraught with challenges. But with the unwavering support of those who loved me, I knew I could face whatever lay ahead.

Night after night, the nightmares clawed their way into my sleep, tearing through the fragile fabric of my dreams with merciless intensity. Each time, I would wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in my chest, lungs gasping for air as if I'd been drowning in the darkness of my own mind.

Azriel had been there from the beginning, his quiet presence a steadfast anchor in the storm of my nightmares. At first, he would come at the sound of my screams, offering comfort and reassurance until the tremors subsided and sleep reclaimed me once more. But as the nights stretched on and the nightmares showed no signs of abating, his visits became more frequent, his presence a comforting constant in the ever-shifting landscape of my dreams.

I would wake to find him sitting beside my bed, his gaze watchful and protective as he kept vigil over my troubled sleep. His presence was a balm to my fractured mind, a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.

At first, I protested his presence, insisting that he had better things to do than waste his nights sitting by my bedside. But he brushed off my protests with a quiet determination, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. He didn't need words to convey the truth—that he would stay for as long as I needed him, no matter the cost.

And so, night after night, I would wake to find him there, his presence a silent reassurance that I was not alone in my suffering. With each passing night, his visits became longer, his presence more palpable until it felt as though he had practically moved into my room.

I would wake to the soft sound of his breathing, the warmth of his presence a comforting weight beside me. His steady heartbeat echoed in the silence of the night, a rhythmic cadence that anchored me to the present moment.

In those quiet hours before dawn, with the weight of his presence beside me, I found solace in the knowledge that I was not alone. No matter how dark the night, no matter how terrifying the nightmares that plagued my sleep, Azriel was there, a silent guardian watching over me until the first light of dawn chased the shadows away. And for that, I was endlessly grateful.

(Late October, River House)

As Azriel sat across from Rhysand, the weight of the conversation about you felt even heavier upon his shoulders. His mind flickered back to the recent events—the trauma you had endured, the pain etched into your every expression, and the way you had leaned on him for support during your darkest moments.

"I've noticed the way you look at her, Az," Rhys's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. "And I can't help but wonder… Are you two… a thing?"

Azriel's gaze softened with a mix of fondness and concern as he thought of you. "I… I care about her deeply," he confessed quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "Especially now, after everything she's been through."

Rhys nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. "I know you've been by her side through it all, Az. And I'm grateful for that. How is she holding up?"

The concern in Rhys's voice mirrored Azriel's own worries. Your recovery had been slow and arduous, marked by moments of progress followed by setbacks. Azriel had been there every step of the way, offering his support and comfort whenever you needed it most.

"She's… she's trying her best," Azriel replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But the kidnapping still weighs heavily on her. Some days are better than others."

Rhys reached out a hand, placing it reassuringly on Azriel's shoulder. "You're doing everything you can for her, Az. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, okay?"

Azriel nodded, gratitude swelling within him for Rhys's words of encouragement. Despite the challenges they faced, he was determined to stand by your side, offering you whatever solace and support he could provide.

As they parted ways, Azriel's thoughts remained with you—the strength you had shown in the face of adversity, the resilience that burned bright within you. And though he knew that your path to recovery would be a long and difficult one, he vowed to walk it with you every step of the way, for you had become more than just someone he cared about—you were his guiding light in the darkness, his reason to hope for a brighter tomorrow.

(Late November, Velaris)

Stepping beyond the familiar walls of the House of Wind felt like a liberation, a triumph over the shadows that had threatened to consume me. As I walked alongside Feyre and Mor, the streets of Velaris buzzed with life, each step forward a testament to the strength I had found within myself.

Beside me, Azriel's concern was evident, his worry etched in the furrow of his brow and the gentle pressure of his hand in mine. But this time, I was determined to show him—and myself—that I was stronger than the nightmares that haunted me.

"Don't worry, Az," I said with a reassuring smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm ready for this. Feyre and Mor are with me."

Feyre and Mor nodded in agreement; their expressions filled with confidence. "We've got your back," Feyre said with a reassuring smile. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Their words filled me with a sense of reassurance, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this journey. With their support, I felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As we walked through the bustling streets of Velaris, I couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through me. The sun warmed my skin, the wind tousled my hair, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt truly alive.

But amidst the excitement, a part of me couldn't shake the worry that lingered in Azriel's eyes. I knew he cared about me deeply, and the thought of causing him any more pain weighed heavily on my heart.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked quietly, his concern palpable. "We can turn back if you're not feeling well."

I met his gaze with determination, my resolve unwavering. "I'm more than ready, Az," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I've spent too long hiding away. It's time for me to start living again."

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tarjapearce · 7 months

Text

Crimson Crown (Pt. 3)

Royal! AU Miguel O'Hara x Princess! Reader

Special thanks to @pinkiemme for this amazing fanart for this fic ❤️✨

WARNINGS: Angst, Sibling bonding, awkward talks, mild squeeze of jealousy if you squint, Bit of fluff, meaningful talks, slow burn, apologies, tension, arranged marriage.

Summary: In the admist of a feely chaos, a common ground is found.

Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 <3

Every bendable joint stretched, and some popped as you awoke, but in all honesty, functioning today wasn't something you wanted to do. Thoughts rooting heavier in your head upon remembering last night's events.

Your face sunk into the pillow, allowing its plush and warm embrace to cradle your face longer. Bloodshot eyes turned glossy and soon one tear fell. Another followed and so on, as if your body had finally released all the bad things that you had been bottling up.

You didn't cherish it, just finally dwelled on it, giving in to the sadness you had pushed away for so long that it came biting back at you before reaching for your diary and writing all your suffering away. Some tears certainly had stained the pages as you wrote.

Dainty hand scribbled angrily and pained but eventually stopped after a couple of pages. The servants announced their presence to bring your first meal of the day. A bit of gruel and fruit.

One of the servants stared at you for a second, but quickly returned to her duties, leaving you alone once more. Appetite wasn't something you wanted to indulge in too much, but certainly, you'd need the energy if you wanted to go out.

You ate in between stacking all the paintings back in the wooden box. The colorful landscape of your room was slowly returning to its dull color. The sheets and the hardened tainted tips of the paintbrushes were the only things that popped out.

The paintings were stacked into a corner as you made the space for another hobby, almost leaving the place as you had originally acquired it. Cold, empty, home of the darkness that loved to sit and watch you from the corners.

You'd miss your mother's comforting words after a terrible day, you missed Lucille. Sometimes you'd indeed wonder what would she be doing. Why Miguel forbade to bring her in was a mystery to you. The only thing certain is that you needed your friend. You needed a friend.

Of course, you missed the little cherry tart Lucille gave you every time she'd find you crying. The strolls through the castle she'd take you to whenever your parents discussed things so carelessly before you. But none of that mattered anymore.

A princess's duty was far more than just training oneself in the arts and being well-versed in many things. The ugly side of it, something you'd recently been acquainted with, had taught you the real meaning of being a royal. Sacrifice.

Even though your kingdom was now under the protection of Arachne, the price in return seemed a bit too high. Your happiness. But again as your mother had said

Our wishes matter little when men decide it's fun to play war.

Those words have stuck with you ever since. Marriage was something you didn't though too much, despite your father's attempts to marry you to a king of abroad lands. He even had considered offering your hand in marriage to Kraven if it meant to keep the peace. Of course, your mother had opposed greatly, but she was only saving you up as her last card under the sleeve and handed you over to the biggest player in the war-waging game, Miguel.

Miguel had won. Like usual. You were to marry him within two months and a week. It finally dawned on you—cold and bitter truth. You dreaded marrying him and just acting like a public figure for both kingdoms. He didn't need you, much to your maudlin reasoning, you knew he was more than capable of leading the kingdom on his own.

He doesn't need you

Your mind chanted. And for a moment you believed it. The way he acted, showing little glimpses of kindness to then completely ignoring you until he saw fitting not doing so, either by his counselor's advice or a little guilt.

Guiltiness

Of course not. The man had slayed without remorse anything that meddled with his kingdom. You were sure that if your realm would have much more resources, you'd be at war with him.

But this kind of war, an inner one, was something you were losing.

You had seen his little to no reaction to what his brother had called you. The word made you sick, but it made you sicker to know he let everything unfold.

So so cold.

Mere politics. A game in which you were a pawn. His pawn. It kind of made you wonder what kind of mistresses he had.

Had you met them without realizing it? Hopefully not, and you prayed for it to never happen. You wouldn't be able to stand it. A reason why you admired so much your mother.

On rare occasions, you had seen her cry because your father preferred a mistress' than her own company, but she always held her head high, face cold and proud. Never allowing the rest to see her waver.

Fresh tears were wiped off your face as the servants came once more. You bathed and prepared for the day. Peter came in once you were ready, frowning for a moment at your reddened face, his eyes noticed you had cleaned up the painting area, leaving it bare.

"Your Majesty" Peter greeted

You bowed at him.

"Could I have Lady Gwen and Lord Hobie to accompany me today?"

Peter tilted his head in confusion, "Beg your pardon?"

"I will go to the city, I need some supplies."

"You could ask and the king-"

"He's done enough. I don't wish to keep using his good faith when I can get them myself, ser Peter."

The words felt sharp as they came out of your mouth, but in truth, you didn't want to keep adding to his stress.

You sighed as your fist clenched for a moment on the skirt of your dress.

" And I need to clear my head. A trip to the city would be good."

"You've got to understand that I cannot leave your side, right?"

"If you get in trouble, I'll take full responsibility for it."

Peter's eyes softened and nodded.

"I'll call them."

-------

"Are you awake?" Gabriel spoke as he entered Miguel's chambers. The king received him with a grunt as he looked at some new reports Jessica had brought him.

"Of course you are. Did you even get some sleep?"

"No."

"Surprise, surprise." Gabriel shook his head and took one report. Miguel's gaze fixed on him, a little hidden smile creeping on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Gabriel's hand unfolded yet another report, "Helping you."

"I can do it myself."

"It's my kingdom too. Of course, I need to know what is happening around."

Miguel chuckled and let him. They remained quiet, going through the many reports. Some weren't as urgent as the others, surveillance of areas, economics, politics, and letters incoming from other kingdoms.

A couple of ones directed to you. Your parents mostly and one from a woman named Lucille. He put your cards away and let one of his agents, Margo, deliver them to you. He didn't trust regular servants to deliver such personal things, too much of a risky move.

"What are the plans for today besides pouring yourself to work?"

Miguel sighed and went through the last report before looking at Gabriel.

"I need to test some things before making advance in something else."

Gabriel rested against his chair and put his feet on the table, which Miguel quickly removed.

"Thought you'd like to apologize to your future bride."

"She doesn't want to be disturbed, and you're the one at fault. Not me."

Gabriel's eyes widened softly and he nodded.

"Still, I might send her a letter."

"No. You're to ask an audience with her and apologize. Make it right."

"What about you?"

Miguel waved him off, a sign to which Gabriel understood as 'I'll find a way later'.

"You know... heard the servants talking"

"I don't have time for gossip, Gabriel."

The younger O'Hara snorted and gestured towards him.

"They say they have seen your little princess crying. A lot, ever since she came here actually."

Miguel tensed for a moment and put the papers down.

"I know it's been forever since you've courted someone. But-"

"Courting doesn't lead a country"

Gabriel shrugged and stood. "In any case, I will apologize once she returns from her trip."

His words snapped Miguel's attention back at him.

"What trip?"

Gabriel smirked at his demanding tone, "She's in the city, looking for things."

Miguel pinched his nose bridge.

"She could've asked..."

"Peter sent her off-"

"What do you mean Peter is here?! He is supposed to be her guardian!"

Miguel secured the sword to his hip and darted out of his room. Gabriel seemed pleased as he followed him. He thrived in seeing his brother antsy and panicky over silly things.

A present reminder that he was still human, and not a belicista monster at heart like everyone made him to be.

Peter's eyes darted away from him upon his arrival.

"Why aren't you with the Princess?"

"She asked me not to come with her. Asked for Gwen and Hobie instead"

Miguel's icy glare remained on a scowling Peter.

"Why?"

"Ask her yourself."

Gabriel's excitement died upon sensing the tension between the both.

"Ser Peter, my apologies for interrupting your duty. But, do you know by chance where she has gone to?"

"She needed some space."

Away from you both.

Peter's mind wanted to say but it would surely gain his title removed. His mouth kept in a straight line as Miguel kept on glaring at him.

"She wanted to get some things for herself."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Peter sighed and shook his head.

"Because she said you'd done enough. And she doesn't want to be disturbed."

Gabriel cringed, his eyes darting back and forth between Miguel and Peter. He didn't mean to offend you, but something worse was happening. And it was his fault, yet Miguel was already seizing that burden as his own.

" Will you let us know when she arrives? I understand her wish to be left alone, but the distress I put her through yesterday needs to be addressed as soon as possible."

Peter just nodded as Miguel entered your chambers. His frown immediately deepens upon seeing the current state of your room. Just like he had given it to you. Bland, dull, and with no colors, just like your ongoing emotions.

The paints were carefully stacked in a corner, his gift stored back where he had sent it. The faint scent of your perfume, the only indicator you had been here, was subtly overpowered by the smell of dried oil paintings.

Your desk was neatly organized, but a couple of crumpled sheets ruined the pristine image. He took one and unfolded it bit by bit. A single word scribbled and scratched with such violence it tore the page.

Concubine.

He rubbed his face and crumpled the sheet once more. Angry steps guide him away from your room. Gabriel was out of his sight.

Good.

----

The trip had surely made your brain ease the anguish and bad thoughts your mind was spiraling into.

One thing you certainly liked about Arachne, was the many imported products you could find. That would mean, finding the golden Thelerian thread you used for your embroidering back at home.

Crimson, golden, green, indigo blue, and black along some hoops and needles. You also got some other materials. Hobie and Gwen followed you but kept their distance when sensing the gloominess taking over you. They just followed wherever you went. They gave you your space.

You'd stop at the baker's for his tarts, obviously. You got half a dozen of them. Along with some more books about Arachne.

There were a couple of interesting things that caught your attention. The machinery used was something you'd never seen before; and surely the affluence of foreign people.

If you paid close attention, you could distinguish the people from their origin country. Erunians’ upper class always dressed in fine linens with subtle armoring pieces, a couple of them paraded through the market.

You could spot some fellow Thelerians in the art and fabric shops. They'd be probably looking for supplies, as well for a new upcoming activity in the arts academy. A wistful and longing glance was thrown their way before your eyes met a flamboyant man, dressed in the silkiest fur coat you had seen so far.

An Onerimian. You saw other people, probably people from even further kingdoms of Enethor.

It made sense for Miguel to go to such extent as to marry himself in exchange for his country thriving. He was a king after all. No monarch would want their land suffering unless it was a terrible one. Which you had heard stories about.

Once your shopping ended, you got back into the carriage and returned to the palace.

-----

The news of your arrival fell upon both Miguel’s and Gabriel's ears. The latter got himself ready to talk to you.

"See you later, Miggy"

Miguel just grunted in response as he watched you from his window and rubbed his face on your melancholic expression.

The servants always talked, but seeing your face with saddened and dull eyes, made the headache grow gradually.

The council held less power than him, but even so, their influence was something he couldn't deny. An extension of his power. They helped him as well with so many other things, or else he'd never had a break.

Being a ruler wasn't easy, being the head of a whole nation was worse. For once, the questioning of his worth came into mind after so many years.

He had even sacrificed his health to keep the kingdom striving and together for the past seventeen years on his own. And in all that time a marriage never crossed his mind. Until now.

----

"Princess!"

Gabriel bowed with a serious face, and your discomfit grew, but you still pushed that aside and bowed back.

"My lord."

Gabriel sighed and clasped his hands before you.

"Could you spare me some minutes of your time for a hearing, your highness?"

Your heart thumped with violence inside your chest but you nodded

"Certainly, sir."

"Good. I... Thank you. I know you wanted to be left alone for the day, but I must apologize to you for my actions yesterday. It was completely out of line."

Gabriel sighed and looked at you, honest words and eyes fixed on your defeated form.

"I didn't know my brother had gotten engaged. I was out on duty and found out when I got to the castle. It has never been my intention to insult you, your highness."

"Your honesty is quite admirable, ser. Thanks for that"

"Do you accept my apologies?"

"Yes. Now if you'd excuse me, I must go"

Gabriel bowed and left you be.

The servants took your things inside your room as you bowed to everyone that greeted you.

Dinner time approached and the food was brought to your room.

Your mind gravitated towards Miguel. Thankful that he had respected your wishes to be left alone for the day.

What about tomorrow and the day after that?

Your hands faltered and a heavy sigh escaped your lips.

As long as you were kept busy, the rest didn't matter, right? He seemed way too contemptuous of being away and meddling with his affairs.

Probably with a mistress

Your breath hitched as you rubbed your face in disgust at your thoughts. What he did in his spare time was none of your business. Yet it was unavoidable to feel your chest constricting at your hurting thoughts.

Enough

Your mind rumbled as you focused on the new task before you. The embroidery was one of your favorites, it was calming and required your full attention. It helped you back at home.

-----

The next day went like nothing had happened. You were still in your room, embroidering. You were so engrossed in your task that got startled when a woman in her elite uniform cleared her throat, finally making her presence known to you.

"My apologies for startling you, your highness. I am Margo. One of the king's agents."

She bowed and you followed

"He sends this to you."

Margo delivered a little paper with a note scribbled on it. Penmanship sloppy and hurried but legible enough.

Meet me at the main hall within an hour.

You frowned upon reading the note and sighed.

"I'll be there. Thanks for your service, Lady Margo."

"Please, just Margo. I'll let him know of your reply right away."

She left, and you groaned inwardly.

Nervous steps guided you through the main halls of the castle. Finally, they stopped a few meters away from what you thought was his office. He was talking to Jessica and then excused himself as soon as he saw you.

Oh dear.

-----

He was before you within a couple of strides, long legs reached your presence, and his forever stoic yet deep eyes settled on you. Breathing felt heavy and stuffy.

"Princesa" his voice held a bit of a gruff. He cleared his throat and pointed the way ahead.

"Walk with me."

It wasn't a suggestion or an order. And still, you followed. His hands clenched and relaxed as He walked with you, matching your pace.

"Is there a specific reason why you have requested my company tonight, My lord?"

He chuckled, glad that you were addressing things without sugarcoating them.

"I want to apologize."

"Whatever for? Prince Gabriel has already apologized. We have... reached a truce regarding that situation."

Miguel glanced at you with curious and soft eyes as you both kept walking through the castle.

"I know you are aware of what our marriage implies, Princesa."

"Of course. Even though my family was the one to orchestrate such union, I’m a firm believer that our kingdoms could mutually benefit from it."

"My thoughts exactly. What are your prospects for Theleria? "

"We might not be the realm we used to be centuries ago, but I believe we have been turning into something better. I don't favor war, and many might see it as a weakness, but as long as there are more options, I won't be afraid to explore them."

"What if war is the only way?"

"Is it truly, though? I know there are times when war is the only way out. And as much as it pains me, it must be seen through. To me, war is the last resource."

"On that, we agree."

Miguel nodded as you stared at him with a curious gaze.

"Contrary to what everyone outside my kingdom's walls believes, I don't engage in war because they're fun. Wars are the result of several failed attempts at dialogue. My last resource."

You smiled softly at his words and he smiled back.

"I must apologize to you, then. My initial judgment has been proven wrong. And I'm glad it did."

"How so?" Miguel inquired as you both walked wherever your feet took you. The soft and sweet scent of the gardens tickled your nose.

"This arranged marriage was quite sudden for both. I know much. You weren't looking for such a thing, neither did I. Yet-"

"Here we are."

Miguel slicked his hair back as Peter's words finally started to sink in.

"I know a kingdom is the most important thing for a good ruler. It is important to you as it is important to me."

You spoke as you faced him.

"My parents might have arranged this, but... It doesn't mean we can't influence the path it takes. As your future... ally"

Your words hesitated, "I want to be seen as more than just a public figure, but someone you can rely on if the chance presents itself."

Miguel's heart thumped with strength at your words. His gaze remained on you a little longer than it should.

" What do you aspire to accomplish in Arachne, Princesa?"

" The same thing I'd want for my future kingdom, My lord. For it to keep striving, improving, and marching towards a better future, where its citizens know they can have the same opportunities they'd get in abroad lands. For them to know that we have their back. Like it should be."

Miguel's hands tingled upon your words. The urge to reach for you and hug you at finally finding someone who understood his reasoning was a bit overwhelming, in a good kind of way. His heart seemed to be pumping in excitement.

"Seems we share a vision."

"Indeed. Our kingdoms' well-being is the thing that brought us here. Would be foolish to think differently."

"I apologize if... I've underestimated your reasoning, Princesa."

You shook your head with a lax smile.

"It's alright, sir. It's only natural to be guarded towards stranger's opinions."

"You're certainly no stranger"

Your brows rose in surprise "Oh?"

Miguel blinked at his own words

"I mean..."

He rubbed his neck softly

"I think allies would be too soon since I've got yet, to prove my worth to you and your scary council. Acquaintances, it's the right term."

You spoke with a soft smile. The kind of smile one would wear when facing an awkward truth.

"Acquaintances, then."

He didn't like that word, as true as it was. It didn't sit right in his head and it had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I must know though, Princesa. Why would you order Peter to stay behind?"

"Well, poor man needed a break. He's always looking after me."

His jaw clenched softly at the compassionate words for Peter.

"You must understand he can't leave your side, right?"

"I take full responsibility for that, my lord. I know I shouldn't ignore your authority. I'm sorry for that."

The servants ran around the castle, some looked your way with keen eyes, whispering among them as they saw you and Miguel.

"In any case, thanks for listening, my lord. I hope your doubts have been cleared a bit with our conversation. Your company is always enjoyable"

"Certainly."

His mind slapped himself inwardly as you chuckled.

"Then I bid you a goodnight, ser."

You bowed to him and made your way back to your room. He went back to his office.

His mind ran a mile per second with all sort of thoughts.

"Certainly" He groaned in annoyance. He also wanted to say your company was good, but instead, he came out as a self-centered man.

"What's wrong?"

Peter entered his chambers in casual dressings and Miguel glared at him upon remembering the other bits of the conversation.

"You don't need a fucking break. I do."

Peter's brows knitted together in confusion at his sudden words. Your genuine concern for Peter didn't sit right either.

"Then, spend more time doing what you like. Or more time with the princess."

"She said we're acquaintances."

"Which is not far from the truth. Why are you upset?"

"Because you were right. And I hate it when you do."

Peter's smile grew wider "Told you."

"Cállate."

Peter chuckled and sat before him.

"What did you talk about?"

"She told me that she wanted to be a reliable ally. She... understands my vision."

Peter's eyes widened softly as his smile turned into a smirk.

"Seems you did right in approaching"

"Told you to keep your allies closer."

Your sincere words regarding your concerns about the kingdom had his attention fully enraptured into you. The attention that he only put into little selected things. A sort of attention he'd gladly address you again with, just to hear you talk so fervently about your common goals.

"Si si, ya. Vete." (Yeah, yeah. Leave)

"Sleep. Tomorrow's a long day."

He just nodded and watched Peter leave.

Acquaintances were better than strangers. It was a progress, a baby step, but a step closer nonetheless.

-----

Taglist:

@tayleighuh @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @nxrdamp @a--dedicated--fangirl @rin0r1na @queenofroses22 @sofi786 @murnsondock @okayiamkassandra @kimmis-stuff @ceoofmiguel @meeom @handsomeprettytoes @ladymoztaza @chiikasevennn @mxtokko @gabrielarose29 @oooof-ifellforyou @minalovesyoubabes @kikisstrawberrie @know-that-its-delicate @aikoiya @st0r-fruit @ittybxttykxttytxtty

@local-mr-frog @liidiaaag @berlinswifey @eepybunny0805 @vonev

@cheerrioeoz @solesurvivorjen @zaunsin @ange-grayson @peachsteven @kdrosebme @geraskier-thots @rjasmin2021 @yehet-moi-ohorat @misswonderfrojustice @mars-notavailable @jdbxws @amelialysm @firstl0velatespring

#king miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #astv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x y/n #t writes✨

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callsigns-haze · 22 days

Text

A dirty dark shower

Pairing: Azriel x reader Summary: After a passionate encounter in a cramped stall, Y/N and Azriel are hilariously caught by their friends, leading to an awkward yet laughter-filled moment of shared camaraderie. Warning: This content contains explicit scenes of intimacy SMUT

The training grounds of the Night Court were alive with the sound of clashing blades and grunts of exertion. Y/N, a fierce warrior in her own right, had spent the entirety of the day honing her skills under the watchful eye of her mentor. As dusk began to descend upon Velaris, she found herself utterly exhausted, her muscles aching from the day's intense training regimen.

With a weary sigh, Y/N made her way to the female changing room, her friend Mor trailing behind her. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of fabric as other members of the Night Court prepared to unwind after a long day of exertion.

Mor offered Y/N a sympathetic smile as they entered the room, her own fatigue evident in the lines of her face. "Rough day, huh?" she remarked, her voice laced with understanding.

Y/N nodded, a tired grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "You could say that," she replied, her words punctuated by a yawn.

Together, they made their way to their respective lockers, shedding their training gear with a sense of relief. The cool air of the changing room was a welcome respite from the heat of the day, and Y/N let out a contented sigh as she stripped off her sweat-soaked clothes.

As she rummaged through her bag for a fresh set of clothes, Y/N caught Mor's reflection in the mirror, her friend's eyes filled with a quiet sense of camaraderie.

As Y/N wrapped herself in a towel, the soft fabric enveloping her damp skin, she and Mor made their way towards the shower room. Laughter danced between them, a welcome respite from the day's intensity. But just as they reached the entrance, Mor's mischievous grin turned devilish.

Without warning, Mor playfully shoved Y/N forward, sending her stumbling into the men's shower area. Y/N's eyes widened in shock as she stumbled to regain her balance. Before she could react, the door slammed shut behind her with a resounding click, leaving her standing in stunned silence.

Heart racing, Y/N turned to face Mor, her expression a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. "Mor, what in the world?!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing crimson.

But before Mor could respond, Y/N's gaze fell upon the figure standing nearby—a figure she never expected to encounter in the men's shower area.

Azriel.

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his appearance—towel wrapped securely around his waist, droplets of water clinging to his raven hair. His expression mirrored her surprise, his eyes widening slightly as he registered her presence.

"Y/N?" Azriel's voice was a low murmur, tinged with uncertainty. "What are you doing here?"

Y/N felt her cheeks heat even further as she struggled to find an explanation. "Mor thought it would be funny to push me in here," she admitted, her words rushed and slightly breathless.

Azriel's lips twitched in a hint of amusement. "I see," he replied, his tone holding a note of bemusement. "Well, this certainly wasn't what I was expecting."

Despite her embarrassment, Y/N couldn't help but notice the warmth in Azriel's gaze—a flicker of something that sent a shiver down her spine.

As they stood there, awkwardness hanging in the air like a palpable presence, Y/N felt a surge of boldness wash over her. With a hesitant smile, she stepped closer to Azriel, her gaze meeting his.

As they stood there, the air thick with awkwardness, Y/N couldn't shake the embarrassment that coursed through her. Her towel, barely clinging to her body, threatened to betray her further, slipping precariously with every movement.

Awareness dawned in Azriel's eyes as he noticed her predicament, his gaze flickering to the precarious state of her towel. A flush crept up Y/N's neck as she desperately tried to readjust the fabric, her heart pounding with mortification.

"Sorry," she mumbled, cheeks aflame, as she fumbled to secure the towel in place.

Azriel's response was surprisingly gentle, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No need to apologize, Y/N," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

Despite her embarrassment, Y/N couldn't help but appreciate the tenderness in his words, the warmth of his gaze. There was something undeniably intimate about this moment, something that made her heart flutter with anticipation.

As she finally managed to secure her towel, Y/N found herself meeting Azriel's gaze once more, a tentative smile playing at her lips. In that moment, amidst the awkwardness and vulnerability, she realized that perhaps this unexpected encounter held the promise of something more—a chance for them to explore the unspoken desires that had lingered between them for far too long.

And as they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights, Y/N felt a surge of courage wash over her. With a boldness she didn't know she possessed, she stepped closer to Azriel, her hand reaching out to brush against his.

"Maybe," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "this isn't such a bad thing after all."

Azriel's response was a silent nod, his eyes reflecting the same longing that stirred within her. And as they stood there, on the precipice of possibility, Y/N knew that whatever lay ahead, they would navigate it together, their connection stronger than ever before.

----

As Y/N and Azriel found themselves in the midst of their awkward yet charged encounter, their moment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Both turned their heads towards the entrance to the shower area, eyes widening as Cassian's figure loomed closer.

Mor stepped forward with a mischievous grin, attempting to block Cassian's path. However, Cassian, determined to proceed, pushed past her, his expression a mix of confusion and determination. "What's going on?" he demanded, his voice tinged with irritation.

Mor's grin faltered for a moment before she quickly recovered. "Oh, nothing, Cassian. Just a little joke," she replied with forced nonchalance, her eyes darting towards the door.

But before Mor could stop him, Cassian reached for the door handle, intent on opening it to investigate. Y/N's heart raced with panic as she exchanged a frantic glance with Azriel. Without a second thought, they both sprinted towards the nearest stall, their feet pounding against the tiled floor.

With a sense of urgency, they slipped inside just as Cassian swung the door open, his puzzled gaze scanning the empty room. Y/N held her breath, willing herself to remain silent as she pressed herself against the back wall of the stall, Azriel close beside her.

Cassian's brow furrowed in confusion as he peered around the room, searching for any sign of the mysterious occupants. "Strange," he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by the closed door.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she listened to Cassian's footsteps recede, relief flooding through her as the tension of the moment finally began to dissipate. Slowly, she let out a shaky breath, exchanging a tentative smile with Azriel as they realized they had narrowly avoided being caught.

As Cassian entered the shower area, his senses on high alert, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. With a furrowed brow, he made his way towards the row of stalls, his eyes scanning the empty space for any sign of movement.

His gaze fell upon the stall beside Azriel's, and he called out, "Az, you in there?" His voice echoed off the tiled walls, filled with concern.

Inside the stall, Azriel tensed at the sound of Cassian's voice, his heart racing with apprehension. Y/N pressed herself against him, her breath coming in shallow gasps as they both listened intently.

To their surprise, Azriel responded, his voice steady despite the nerves that coursed through him. "Yeah, I'm here," he replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

Cassian's brow furrowed in confusion as he approached the stall, his footsteps echoing against the floor. "You sure you're okay, brother?" he asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

Azriel hesitated for a moment before responding, "Yeah, just taking a moment to myself."

As Cassian came closer, Azriel's heart hammered in his chest. He could sense Cassian's curiosity growing with every passing second. Desperate to avoid detection, Azriel glanced down and caught sight of Y/N's feet peeking out from beneath the stall door.

In a split-second decision, Azriel acted on instinct, lifting Y/N up around his waist to conceal her presence. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she clung to him, her heart racing in tandem with his.

Meanwhile, Cassian slipped a glance under the stall door, his gaze searching for any sign of Azriel. Azriel held his breath, willing himself to remain calm as Cassian's scrutiny lingered.

Finally, Cassian seemed to relent, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright, man. Just checking in," he said, his voice tinged with understanding.

As Cassian moved away, relief washed over Azriel and Y/N in equal measure. Slowly, Azriel lowered Y/N back to the ground, their eyes meeting in silent acknowledgement of their close call.

As Azriel lifted Y/N up to conceal her presence, his focus solely on evading Cassian's detection, he failed to notice the precarious state of his towel. In a sudden twist of fate, the fabric slipped from his waist, pooling at his feet, leaving him completely exposed.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she registered the unexpected turn of events, her eyes widening in surprise. The air crackled with tension as she stood before Azriel, her gaze drawn to the sight of his naked form, vulnerable yet undeniably alluring.

But instead of feeling intimidated by the sudden display of his length, Y/N felt a surge of boldness wash over her—a desire that burned hot and fierce within her veins. With a sudden impulse she couldn't ignore, she closed the distance between them, her lips seeking his in a daring kiss.

Azriel's eyes widened in shock as he registered her bold move, his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of how to respond to her unexpected advance. But as her lips met his, a fire ignited within him—a passion that consumed him entirely.

With a low growl of desire, Azriel responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around Y/N's waist as he deepened the kiss. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, the world fading away until there was nothing but the heat of their shared desire.

In that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their surroundings, Y/N and Azriel found solace in each other's embrace—a connection that transcended words, binding them together in a bond that was as undeniable as it was undeniable.

As Y/N felt the rush of boldness surge through her, she made a split-second decision. With a quick movement, she let her towel fall to the floor, leaving her standing completely naked before Azriel. In the wake of her action, a sense of exhilaration washed over her, fueled by the intensity of their connection.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him, his eyes roaming hungrily over Y/N's exposed form. Desire blazed in his gaze as he met her eyes, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Without a word, Azriel closed the distance between them, his hands gentle yet possessive as they traced the curves of Y/N's body. With each touch, Y/N felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through her, her skin tingling with pleasure.

In the intimate confines of the stall, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them—lost in the heat of their shared desire. Azriel's lips found hers once more, the kiss igniting a fire that burned hot and fierce between them.

But he didn't stop there. His kisses trailed a path of fire down her neck, her collarbone, igniting a trail of desire wherever they landed. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as she surrendered herself to the intoxicating sensation of his lips against her skin.

With each tender touch, Azriel worshipped her body as if it were a sacred temple, his hands and lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. And as they moved together in the cramped confines of the stall, Y/N lost herself in the dizzying whirlwind of sensation, every touch sending her spiraling closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In the midst of their intimate exchange, Azriel's breath hitched as he felt the weight of Y/N upon his waist. With a fervent desire burning in his eyes, he leaned in close to her ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, "may I… may I go inside you?"

Y/N's heart fluttered at his whispered request, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of anticipation and desire. In that moment, she knew with absolute certainty that she wanted nothing more than to surrender herself completely to Azriel, to lose herself in the ecstasy of their shared passion.

With a breathless nod, Y/N met Azriel's gaze, her eyes filled with an unspoken longing. "Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "please."

Azriel's lips curved into a tender smile as he pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's lips, his hands moving with gentle reverence as he guided them closer together. In the intimate confines of the stall, they moved as one, their bodies melding together in a dance of passion and desire that left them both breathless and trembling with ecstasy.

And as they became lost in the dizzying whirlwind of sensation, Y/N knew with absolute certainty that she had found her home in Azriel's embrace—a sanctuary where their love could burn bright and unyielding, lighting up the darkness and guiding them through even the darkest of nights.

As the intensity between them escalated, Azriel's movements became more fervent, driving them both to new heights of pleasure. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as she felt him pick up the pace, his movements sending waves of ecstasy coursing through her.

Lost in the whirlwind of sensation, Y/N couldn't help but vocalize her pleasure, her cries of ecstasy filling the small space of the stall. "Azriel," she gasped, her voice raw with desire, "Azriel!"

The sound of their bodies colliding echoed off the tiled walls, a symphony of passion that filled the room. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, the tension coiling tight within them as they chased the elusive release that awaited them.

And then, in a crescendo of ecstasy, they reached their peak together, their voices mingling in a chorus of ecstasy. "Y/N!" Azriel's voice rang out, filled with longing and desire, as he tumbled over the edge into blissful oblivion.

"Azriel!" Y/N cried out, her voice a melodic symphony of pleasure as she followed him over the edge, her body pulsing with the intensity of their shared release.

In that moment of pure ecstasy, as their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of their passion, Y/N knew with absolute certainty that she had found her soulmate in Azriel's arms—a love that burned brighter than any star in the night sky, illuminating the darkness and guiding them towards a future filled with endless possibility.

As the echoes of their shared ecstasy began to fade, Y/N and Azriel gradually became aware of their surroundings once more. With heavy breaths and racing hearts, they leaned against each other for support, their bodies still tingling with the lingering aftershocks of their passion.

But as they basked in the warmth of their shared intimacy, a sudden realization washed over them—they were not alone in the room. With wide eyes, they turned towards the stall door, their hearts sinking as they remembered the presence of their friends just beyond the thin barrier.

A flush of embarrassment crept up Y/N's cheeks as she exchanged a sheepish glance with Azriel, their shared gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and chagrin. It was a sobering reminder of their surroundings, a stark contrast to the private world they had just shared together.

Azriel's lips curved into a wry smile as he reached for Y/N's hand, his touch a comforting reassurance amidst the awkwardness of the moment. "Well," he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement, "that was certainly unexpected."

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle softly at his words, her embarrassment gradually giving way to amusement. "To say the least," she replied, her tone light despite the lingering blush on her cheeks.

With a shared understanding, they gathered their wits and began to hastily dress, their movements quick and efficient as they prepared to face their friends once more. As they emerged from the stall, after wrapping up in their towels, their expressions carefully composed, they were met with a mixture of knowing glances and amused smiles from Mor and Cassian.

"Caught in the act, were we?" Mor quipped, a playful twinkle in her eyes as she exchanged a knowing look with Cassian.

Y/N's cheeks flushed crimson at the teasing remark, but she couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled up from deep within her. Despite the embarrassment of being discovered, there was a sense of camaraderie in the air—a shared understanding that only served to strengthen the bonds of friendship between them.

As they left the shower area behind, their laughter echoing through the halls of the Night Court, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the friends who had witnessed their most intimate moment and yet accepted them without judgment or reservation.

And as they made their way back to their quarters, hand in hand, Y/N knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other—for better or for worse, in moments of passion and of laughter, they were united as one, bound together by the unbreakable ties of friendship and love.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lilah-asteria

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger

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reyla-the-black-wolf · 24 days

Text

My heart speaks for you (Part 1)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: a bit fluff, slight angst, no other that I could think of

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

Part 1 ⎮ Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮

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The festivities were in full swing. All the guests wore breathtaking ball gowns and suits in every colour imaginable. And the shooting stars above us glistened like jewels from some long forgotten treasure.

It was Starfall at the Night Court and our High Lord and his High Lady had worked hard to prepare this stunning ball. This year they wished to open Velaris to everyone, so all the other Courts were invited to enjoy this magnificent night.

I stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Wind, gazing up at the wonderful night sky above me. The stars seemed magical as they came down one by one to greet us like old friends. I closed my eyes to worship this moment. The chatter of our guests echoed up to where I leaned against the marble railing. It cooled my skin, which was still hot and sweaty from all the dancing earlier. The sound of glass clinking, as people toasted each other. Sweet smelling pastries and other delicious treats hovered in the air. My mouth instinctively watered and I subconsciously smiled.

A lovely fresh spring breeze made my black silken dress swirl around my ankles. My hair stood on end at the sensation and I shivered. Taking a deep breath, I let the night-chilled air fill my lungs. I never wanted this tiny fragment of life to pass, as I enjoyed it to the full. Letting it sink into the deepest parts of my soul and surround me like a thick, cosy blanket. I could feel a warmth spreading all over my skin.

The fabric of my dress caressed my legs, as the wind brushed past it. It accentuated my body in all the right places, from my legs up to my hips and to my breasts. A silver necklace curled its way around my neck with a moonstone in shape of a teardrop set in the centre. It shimmered so brightly as if made of a star itself. To complete my look, I´d chosen some silver earrings. Also with a little moonstone.

The Cursed Princess of the Night.

That was my title. At least, that’s what other Fae called me.

I opened my eyes only to pull back suddenly, as a tall, red-haired Fae stood beside me, watching the Starfall. Apparently I must have been under some kind of spell, as I didn’t hear the man approach me from behind.

He was at least two heads taller than me and wore a dark crimson tunic with golden embroidery and a creamy white linen shirt underneath. The vest looked like it was made out of blood and the linen shirt perfectly showed off his toned muscles on his arm and chest. A few gold rings curled around his long, slender fingers. And his hair. I almost forgot how to breathe. His hair was a kaleidoscope of fiery colours. A blazing fire of red dawn and golden sunset. Neatly brushed back. He smelled of fresh parchment, rain and red wine. A warmth enveloped him, spreading until I could feel it shiver over my hot skin.

I knew exactly who was standing before of me. The short, flaming hair. The lean figure. His exquisite attire. Standing beside me was the heir of the Autumn Court.

Eris Vanserra.

Apparently, I had let my eyes roam over his form for too long, for when I shifted my gaze to look at his face, he was staring right at me. I´ve never felt so exposed in my entire existence. He watched me as if he could peer straight into my very soul. I was in a trance, an comfortable feeling settled in my stomach. Cauldron! He looks like as if he was carved out of fire itself! All I could do was stare at him in awe. His handsome features. The sharp jawline and his amber eyes. A mischievous smirk played across his full lips, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Blushing, I looked down at my feet.

„What is a beautiful lady like you doing up here? Shouldn´t you be dancing with your family or perhaps with the guests?“ His voice sounded like a stream of molten gold. Delicate and charming, but with a hidden danger to it. I wanted to answer him. I really did. But… I just couldn´t. The words in my mind, but my mouth frozen.

When I didn´t respond, he tilted his head to the side. Like a fox staring at its prey. Something flickered in his eyes. Was that curiosity?

„Pardon me, where are my manners? I´m Eris Vanserra. Heir to the Autumn Throne.“ He threw an elegant hand gesture in my direction and bowed his head. A few strands of his bright red hair fell loose across his forehead, giving him a cheeky look.

„And you´re the Princess of Night, I suppose? Y/n, right?“ It was nothing but a statement. Of course he knew who I was. Not sure what to do, I just nodded quickly.

Gathering some strength, I looked him right in the eye and then leaned back on the balcony beside him. My eyes were on the city below us. Velaris. He simply hummed at me, his eyes also sweeping over the City of Starlight.

„It´s beautiful“, he commented, „but nothing compared to the view next to me, of course.“, his voice smooth as silk. I´d never met the Autumn Court heir in person, but I knew of his reputation. It was said he was a cruel and arrogant man. There was no trace of it now. Still I couldn´t help but smile shyly at his compliment. Daring a glance in his direction, I blushed uncontrollably. He stared at me again, a shameless grin on his face. What was going on? Normally, I´m not one to be flattered easily. Must be the alcohol…

I smiled and nodded gratefully at him before turning my gaze back to Velaris. Enjoying the view of the city. My home.

„Can you keep a secret?“ A hint of humour flashed across his face. I looked at him with big doe eyes, waiting for him to continue. „Starfall looks lovely, but in my opinion, it´s nothing compared to the Autumn equinox.“ A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. „You should visit it one day. Definitely worth it.“ He stared off into the distance, as if lost in a memory. He then began to tell me about the autumn equinox, about his brothers, growing up in his fathers Court. If anyone else had seen us, they probably would´ve mistaken us for old friends. Was I genuinely surprised that he shared such private details of his life with me, a complete stranger? Yes. Did it bother me? No, not in the slightest.

I could feel myself relaxing as he spoke and Eris clearly didn´t care that I didn´t answer. He simply went on sharing his life with me. And I listened carefully to every word he said. Something about it felt quite intimate, as if he trusted me with his very soul. The man next to me, was the complete opposite of what others said about him. A ticklish feeling crept its way into my chest and somehow I knew he needed… this. Just two strangers standing on a balcony at the House of Wind. One talking, the other listening. He needed this as much as I did.

We remained like that for a while. Just the two of us, Velaris below and the stars falling upon us. Now surrounded by a comfortable silence. Eris decided to break it first.

„I´ve heard tales about you, you know? The cursed daughter.“ A pause. „Some say the Cauldron is to blame for your inability to speak.“ I stiffened at his unexpected honesty. „Why is it you can´t talk?“ A thousand questions sparkled in those beautiful eyes of his. It was nothing new for people to have questions about what was wrong with me. They made up all kinds of tales and theories. I was used to them talking behind my back, but I hadn´t expected him to bring it up. Always at ease with my condition, I was surprised, when something felt out of place. A sensation that had changed. But why? I didn´t even know him. Why would he elicit such a reaction in me?

Feeling his eyes burning into my skin, I looked up at him, longing to say: I wish I could answer you. I truly want to! But I can´t…

Another expression slipped into his honeydew eyes. Sympathy. As if to tell me: I understand.

My eyes watered, but I didn´t mind. I felt completely lost in those cascades of liquid sunlight. Framed by his long lashes and fine wrinkles. Some others wouldn't even have noticed them.

My star, where are you? Your mother is worried about you.

The voice of my father echoed in a corner of my mind, jolting me out of my trance. I blinked a few times, glanced at the door behind me and back at the man by my side with something, others might have called a pleading look. I have to go.

Eris understood and gave a deep bow. „It was a pleasure to meet you y/n. Princess of the Night.“ Something about the way he said it didn´t make me dislike that title.

I curtsied and spun around on my heel, sensing that this wasn´t the last time I would run into Eris Vanserra.

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I spent the rest of the night with my family. Mor had a bit too much to drink, but so had her friend Viviane. They sat on the floor with Amren and Varian on velvet cushions, eagerly talking about some event, that happened recently. Cassian and Nesta were leaning on the great balcony, enveloped in each others arms, enjoying their togetherness. Uncle Az was watching the place, searching for any threats, as always. My father had told him, he had the night off, but why break with old habits. And then, there were my parents. High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Their crowns shone beneath the chandelier. Made of the most precious diamonds. Currently they were engaged in a lively conversation with Helion and some other Fae. Nyx, my older brother was next to them, holding a wine glass. His wings properly tucked behind his back.

I stood silently in a corner, observing the room. Every detail. The glittering embroidery on some of the ball gowns. The crystal glasses and the way the light was refracted in them. A scent from the pastries caught my attention and I took a deep breath. They smelled incredible. I was caught up in a maelstrom of iridescent colours as I watched the dancing guests. A whirlwind that carried me away and consumed me. A feeling crept over me as if something was watching me. Or rather, someone was. I scanned the hall, but found no one.

Then a deep, nocturnal laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. My father's laughter. Seeing him and my mother so happy, made me smile to myself. I loved them dearly. But every time I saw them like this, something stirred inside me. A familiar feeling tugging at my heart.

Silent as a shadow, I sneaked out of the hall and headed up to my chambers. It was another wonderful Starfall, no doubt, but right now I wanted nothing more than to sleep. To swallow those rising emotions and banish them for the rest of the night.

I quickly changed into something more comfortable and lay down on the large bed. Burying myself under the sheets, I soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Grey rain clouds darkened the sky and a sharp wind tore through the treetops. Loose, broken leaves were blown from the muddy ground. I felt a piercing cold creep up my bare ankles, like a dead hand reaching for me. My tangled hair fluttered around my face as the panic trapped within my chest threatened to burst. Breathe! Breathe! My heartbeat rose higher and higher. I was dressed in nothing but a white linen dress, which swirled around my hips. The first drops of rain trickled down my pale cheeks. The wind grew stronger by the second, howling like an ancient spirit.

Breathe and open your eyes! My body screamed at me, but I wasn´t listening. Everything felt too much, when suddenly something soft brushed my thigh and the world stopped spinning for a moment. The gentle thuds of paws and a faint squeak could be heard. Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to be met with a fox sitting a few steps away. His thick, orange fur swirled in the breeze and his big, smoky eyes glistened with curiosity. He certainly was adorable with his black socks and the fluffy fur, his ears twitching. Squeaking again, he started running away from me. My body began to wake up, my feet stepping forward on their own.

I followed the little creature through the forest, trying not to loose him. Water splashed onto my legs, as I ran through some puddles. Fern leaves got stuck on my dress. The world around me, began to blur into a stream of pastel colours. A chaos of moss and olive-green leaves. Of grey sky and dark raindrops. Mixed with the scent of petrichor. The fox then slowed down and hid in a dark, narrow tunnel, waiting for me to follow. I took a few steps and stood at the entrance. My hand darted towards the shadows, but before I could to step into them, they consumed me. Suffocated me. Stole my air. My vision. And then slowly sunk into my very being…

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Sunrays shone down on my face. They tickled a bit and I scrunched my nose. A fresh breeze blew through the open windows and filled the room. The fine silver curtains swayed. I pulled the covers over my head, not wanting to stay up. But the birds chirping outside had other plans, so I kicked off the covers and got up.

As I was getting into a pair of black trousers and a bell-sleeved top, the entire house trembled beneath my feet. The birds were startled and fluttered away. What was going on?

I quickly threw on some shoes and almost ran out of the room. Perhaps it was an earthquake? Hopefully nothing too serious.

Moments like this made me wish I had inherited my father's wings.

Hurrying down a long corridor, I made a sharp right turn and nearly stumbled down a flight of stairs. As I was about to pass another staircase, a certain darkness caught my eye. It spilled out from under a double door, which was decorated with intricate silver carvings.

The conference room.

Oh, yes. My mother had told me, that there would be a meeting with the other High Lords in the morning to discuss some new arrangements regarding the import of certain materials into the other courts and the continent. It didn't appear to be going well.

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. As I walked towards the door, a low growl reverberated through the walls. Father.

„Rhys, let us talk about..“ My mother was cut off. „No! I demand to hear it from him! Who is it?“ His sombre voice was full of wrath. What could´ve possibly made him so upset?

I stepped closer, not sure if I should knock and disturb them. You could literally feel the tension.

„Rhysand, this is a business council. We´re here to discuss other matters.“ I believed, that was Lord Thesan´s voice speaking. A pregnant pause followed. I could almost see my father glaring at him. „Y/n. It's Y/n.“ I couldn't identify the voice. Someone was gasping for air and mumbled something incomprehensible. After that, no one dared to say another word.

Why were they talking about me? What was going on in there?

„You are not worthy of her.“ He practically spat out the word. My father´s sudden change of demeanour sent a shiver down my spine. „That decision is not yours to make.“ Heavy footsteps echoed across the room. „Call off your dog, Rhysand.“, Cassian snarled as he was addressed like that. „No need for hostility.“, the voice sounded as nonchalant as it could be.

Eris.

The darkness around my feet grew thicker. With no clue what had gotten into me, I grabbed the door handle and entered the council room. Not a single person noticed me. Just as I was about to close the door and step into whatever situation awaited me, glass shattered on the wooden floor.

„She is my daughter. You are not entitled to her!“ I could do nothing but watch the scene unfold. „Rhys, you don´t understand. Y/n is my mate. You can´t keep her away from me.“ The air was practically charged with lightning. A tingling sensation, that…

Wait what?…What did he just say?… I´m his.. his mate?

The room seemed too small now. Time stood still. Even the dust in the air had stopped moving. I inhaled sharply. My thoughts were racing. Pieces of memories flashed my mind.

Last night on the balcony.

His cheeky grin.

Mor, a dancing flash of red.

Stars sparkling above our heads.

A full moon shining as bright as ever.

My parents holding each others hands.

The stories Eris had told me about his childhood.

I must´ve heard this incorrectly. We hadn't even met each other until yesterday. But now it made sense, why he acted so.. so vulnerable in my presence. I was his mate. He was my mate. I had a mate. This one sentence repeatedly ran through my mind.

Unconsciously, my foot took a step back at the realisation and one of the planks creaked awkwardly. As if slow motion, all faces turned to me.

„Darling, I´m so sorry. This wasn´t meant for your...“, my father stuttered, but I couldn´t hear him anymore. His Apology ended in a swirl of pure silence. All I could do was stare at him. Eris. And he looked at me. Straight into my eyes with a shocked expression on his face. „Y/n, I..“, he tried to step forward but Cass stopped him immediately. Someone then gently grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Away from this moment, that just put my entire life upside down. A familiar scent flooded my nose and golden brown hair waved in my vision. The last thing I remember, was the doors closing behind me, as my mother winnowed us to the living room.

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

#acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fanfiction #slight angst #part one

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months

Text

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

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

☾ wc ; 21.8k (????)

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

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

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

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

ao3 link for reading | spotify playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepens as you hang your head in shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion huffs. “Everyone here is so unfair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Limiting?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” Wyll asks.

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

___

You remain together. Despite the mess. Somehow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wyll! There you are,”

Wyll’s eyes snap up.

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

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

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

It’s a full moon tonight.

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

“Is it too intrusive for me to ask?”

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t think he succeeds at it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on. Sit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I’m sorry?”

Your laugh is bright, and bubbly.

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

Wyll finds himself both awestruck and amused.

“These are all rather specific,”

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

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

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

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

You flush, suddenly becoming timid.

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

You add the last part a little quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

You smile but don’t say anything more.

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Counselor Florrick coughs as she makes her way outside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust us to see it through, Counsellor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking the same,” Wyll adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too, Counselor Florrick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no betrayal in your face, no disappointment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

The journey to the Underdark is never an easy one.

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

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

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

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

Wyll likes you that way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wyll clears his throat.

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

Shadowheart laughs good-naturedly.

“Sure you don’t.”

___

There are few times you take your proper werewolf form.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s never found you so beautiful.

___

Time moves differently in the Shadowfell lands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said your goddess called to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alone had been sent?

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

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

“Where do you hail from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes briefly, letting them flutter open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And after?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,”

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

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

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

“What did you realize?” He prompts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes you don’t.

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

You pretend to consider it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“There’d be no greater honor.”

When Myrkul falls, the world is silent.

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

And this is in no small part thanks to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A fever?”

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

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

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

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

Shadowhearts frown deepens, as does Wylls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh and Wyll swears it sounds nervous.

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

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

You throw your head back and laugh brilliantly.

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

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

“You better.”

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

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

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

Hells. What a troublesome situation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

Wyll doesn’t know how to feel about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Shadowheart.”

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

“Right. I’ll do that now.”

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

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

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

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

Wyll barely makes it before the darkness settles in.

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

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

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

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

Before Wyll lays eyes on you, he hears you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Shit.

“You’re in…heat.”

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

Wyll doesn’t move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can touch me,” He assures.

You sob.

“Not just touch. Wyll, please, go.”

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

Your eyes flicker open in disbelief.

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

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

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

“Tell me. Can I touch you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you say that?”

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

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

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

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

You flush, and mumble. “Pervert.”

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

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

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

Wyll smiles at you. He wants to kiss you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How should I touch you my love?”

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

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

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

“Do it before I lose my mind anymore,”

Wyll laughs playfully against your skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can do the same for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wyll smiles against you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hiccup, another loud sob as Wyll keeps steady.

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

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

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

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

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

“Take your pants off, dammit.”

Wyll can’t help his laughter.

“I suppose it’s only fair,”

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

“Bumps and prongs, huh,”

Wyll flushes immediately, making you laugh.

“I hope you’re not making fun of me.”

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a compliment?”

“...It’s meant to be one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Are you still all there?”

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

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop being so romantic and fuck me.”

He kisses your hairline. “As you wish.”

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

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

Wyll groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum, Wyll. For me, please.”

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

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

“Is something—”

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

Wyll pauses before breaking out into a giggle.

“I was worried for a minute.”

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

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

EPILOGUE:

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

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

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

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

The first person to see you at camp is Karlach.

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

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

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

“Ah, uhm, yes.”

Astarion stands next to Wyll with his arms crossed.

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

Wyll chokes on his spit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hardly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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itsgrimeytime · 10 months

Text

When you need to be held... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

It wasn't long before the lamp by his bedside turned on -enveloping just a corner of the room in a yellow gaze, and blue eyes fixated on you.

"Hey," you whispered, in the dark of the bedroom -it wasn't yours, and you kind of felt like you were intruding but... you didn't know where else to go.

"Hey," suddenly, he seemed more awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up -concern furrowing his eyebrows together. The blanket (a white duvet) fell below his chest, and you saw the surge of skin there and felt somehow even more embarrassed, "-everythin' alright?"

You opened your mouth to respond, eager to explain yourself -instead, your eyes flickered to the window where the night sky was beginning to light up and guilt grounded your words to a halt.

"This is so stupid. Look, I'm sorry I'll-"

Rick was quick to cut you off, the gruff nature of his voice only exaggerating with the sleep slur, "No, no, it's not. I can... I can tell it's not. You wouldn't be here if it was."

You pursed your lips, the weight of your shoulders heavy as you stood in the doorway -hesitating, "I don't... Are you sure?"

"I wanna know," he was fully sat up now, awake and aware, "-if you wanna tell me."

"There's nothing to tell, I just... Shit-" you were rambling, your face turning a damning shade of crimson -afraid to voice what exactly you came here looking for.

It wasn't like it was unfounded, you and Rick had this... thing. You were dancing around it -letting him do things at his pace, and it was slow. Not that you minded, and normally, you'd be fine. It was just dawning on you that maybe it wasn't the same for him, maybe the slowness was a sign all on its own. Your thoughts had only spiraled from there. But this night... you'd taken a leap.

"Y/N, baby," he spoke (that was new), rubbing at his tired eyes with a sort of grin that sent butterflies to your stomach, "-I can't help if ya don't tell me what's wrong."

And without warning, it bubbled out of your throat -open and vulnerable, "I'm just lonely."

His look from that wasn't one you could read, everything was still new between you two after all. And the surge in your stomach of anxiety at his silence wasn't exactly helping; still, you waited, almost expecting him to quickly ignore what you'd said without so much as another thought.

"I'm sorry," you continued -before you could think much of it, "-I just... It's stupid, but I was just thinking if I'd ever been held. Like if anyone had, you know, held my hand, or cared for me in a way that didn't need words. It's been so long and I just thought- Well, I assumed which isn't fair to you-"

"Sweetheart," he was whispering now, the low tone fitting for the intimateness of the space -you could see his clothes from the day strewn on the floor and a few stray bottles of shaving cream on the bathroom sink just out of the corner of your eye (it was so him, you felt dizzy), "-there's nothin' to be sorry for. C'mere."

"Rick, you don't have to-"

"Look at me," he spoke, motioning you to his side -effectively stunting your train of thought, "-it's not a burden to help. It's fuckin' far from it, actually."

"Rick."

"Y/N."

"You don't-" you paused, stopping your voice in its tracks, and just looked at him. He was looking at you in a way you'd just barely gotten used to recently, eyes fuzzed over in that affectionate way, and he'd folded back the blankets delicately. The pillow was untouched, it was... like he had waited for this moment. And maybe he had.

"There it is," he spoke, a warm smile smoothing across his lips, "-you get I want you here now?"

"You..." you trailed off, it felt so new, and yet every fiber of your being somehow felt natural -why had you waited so long?

Your next few steps were slow and unsteady, as if he'd jump up and tell you to scram like an old man in a cartoon -which was quite the picture now that you thought of it. Sinking into the bed, you relaxed there -trying to soak in the well... Rick all around you.

Before you could even move, he pulled up the cover over you -the rush of his woodsy scent flying over you in what felt a bit like a warm hug. As if testing it out, he pressed his hand against your waist -brushing his fingertips up and down your side. It was gentle, careful, an opening -he was asking you.

"What do ya need from me?"

There was a spark of embarrassment there -thrumming under your quick heartbeat, but it was quieter, "Just... hold me."

"Okay," he whispered, not needing any more direction than that.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple -languid and slow. But the movement was right then, it felt as if he was treasuring you. His hands gently brushed over your shoulders -leaving goosebumps in his wake, and then the pads of his fingers detailed the curve of your nose, traced your eyebags, and fluttered over your lips.

You laughed, a bit astonished at the situation you were in, but he was undeterred -other than the smallest of smiles blooming on his lips at the noise.

Rick leaned forward, slowly, kissing your forehead before dipping to the right cheek and then left -his stubble leaving a pleasant buzz among there. It was like a sign he'd done it, a little aftershock -keeping you grounded.

You hummed, a bit out of natural instinct and he bit out a laugh from it -a pleased one like he'd done something he was proud of.

His hands found a place to brush his fingers through your hair -just a touch of smoothing down the mess you knew there was. But he was doing it in such a way that felt like you were fragile, breakable, precious-

You only leaned into his touch as a response, sinking into the rough texture of his hands without an extra thought.

Using the hand that he had previously trailing there on your side, he pulled you to him your face laying neatly on his chest. The gentle movement of his breaths soothed you in a way you didn't know you missed, the warmth of his skin against yours creating a sort of fog in your head -much like the fluttering in your stomach but... peaceful.

Rick chuckled, trailing his hand down your back and pressing his lips to your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world -you hoped it would end up being, "Better?"

"The best," you respond, voice slurred in a way that it hadn't been just a few spare moments ago.

And something in you told you then, maybe he truly didn't mind you asking.

#rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #stuff n' thangs #twd blurb #rick grimes blurb #its griming time #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #twd oneshot #can y'all tell I'm touch starved???#rick grimes fluff #cuddling & snuggling #seriously that's all this is #enjoy :)

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vulturv0lans · 8 months

Note

If it's not too much to ask, can we have a soft dom diluc gently guiding a shy sub reader through her first time? (In desperate need of tooth rotting fluff and diluc being sweet lmaoo [with lots of praise ofc])

ok you know what anon i have been looking for something like this but i haven't found too many,,,thank you for the request!

word count: 2,960 (i got carried away again oops) tags: first time, references to diluc’s father/backstory/official manga, soft dom diluc, lots of love and affection and just overall sappy, porn with plot (lots of it), me crying (also lots of it)

m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox

the air is salty by the lake and his door rusty, yet you’re sure you’ve never need anything more.

when diluc brought you back to the winery for the first time, this was not what he had in mind. he had simply wanted to show you more, parts of him he had long hidden beneath the layers of his clothing and layers of walls he built up. but you are his lover now. you meet the maids that have been with him since he was a child, browse through the volumes that his father left behind, breathe the same air that he has always breathed inside the estate.

he was not planning to take you right there, on the four posted bed he claims but seldom occupies, on the second floor of the winery.

diluc was hesitant at first, leading you into the one place he holds closest to his heart. the master bedroom has not seen a visitor in ages. even the maids rarely enter except when they are asked to, because within these gilded walls and draped curtains is where diluc can truly feel at ease, no “mondstadt wine tycoon” or “master of dawn winery” or even “darknight hero” attached.

and before your eyes, he feels just as bare.

you had taken a seat at the edge of his mattress, arms supporting your weight as your eyes take in the surroundings. the wallpaper is a dark crimson red, damask patterns painted in black. the thick velvet of the curtains match the crimson in colour, yet the light seeping through the fabric and reflecting off of the golden tassels that touch the floor. the furnishings are simple, the large room otherwise empty save for a mirror, a wardrobe, a fireplace, and a desk filled with books.

yet it’s the paintings on the walls that catch your eye. one of them can easily be discerned as an exterior sketch of dawn winery, its signature red roofs a stark contrast to the rows of green underneath. off on the other wall is a portrait. a tall, greying man poses in the middle with two younger boys to either side of him, one with hair as blue as the twilight skies, and the other with hair red as blazing fire.

diluc follows your gaze to the painting, and suddenly the room feels too hot. before he can open his mouth to change the topic, you have already turned to him with an inquisitive look in your eye, and his heart softens. he cannot say no to you.

“that’s your father, isn’t it?”

he nods, choosing to offer no further explanation.

“what was he like?”

your voice is gentle, yet he is still taken aback. seldom anyone wants to know what crepus was like as a person, beyond just his title and position. for a few moments diluc is silent, pondering his answer. how could he summarize the greatest man he’s ever known into a couple simple sentences?

“he was kind. and very, very brave.” he says at last, “he made me the man that i am today.”

“i’m sure he was a great father,” you say quietly, not wanting to press further. diluc must have his reasons behind not wanting to tell the full story yet, and you’ll give him time. as much time as he needs.

“he was.”

when he looks at you again, your frame so small against the posts on his bed, he feels an unnameable emotion surging through him. you’re studying the painting with such an intense focus, as if trying to hear the voice of a man you’ve never met, trying to understand what others fail to even notice.

and in that moment, diluc is sure he has never been more in love.

he closes the distance between you in two quick strides, and you look up at him in surprise. he intertwines your fingers before pulling you up to your feet, your body pressing flush against his as you find your balance.

“can i kiss you?”

you smile at his question. diluc, ever the gentleman. even several months into your relationship he still asks for permission, and still kisses you like it was the first time.

it’s your turn to close the gap between you now, lips meeting his in a soft kiss. his hands find their way down the small of your back, then up your spine before settling on your cheeks, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you even closer, until you can feel every beat of his heart on your skin.

“i love you.” he whispers against your lips when he finally breaks the kiss for air.

“i love you, too,” you echo, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, hands clutching his arms for support. diluc feels his skin burn wherever your hands have been, and his love and tenderness suddenly becomes something more.

deepening the kiss, he backs you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before your entire person falls backwards into the plush mattress. you pull him down with you, until barely any space is left between his large frame and your own, smaller one.

he smooths out the stray baby hairs on your forehead before resting his against it, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. you both know where this is leading, but diluc wants to be certain, absolutely certain that you're okay with this.

"are you sure?"

you nod before you have time to think. this is a step you're willing to take, and there's no one else you'd rather share it with. even so, small bubbles of anxiety rise from your stomach. will it hurt? will you be able to enjoy this? will he be satisfied, even with your lack of experience?

if diluc could hear your thoughts right now, he would be quick in dismissing them as the most preposterous ones he's ever heard. it would pain him to know that you’d ever fear of not satisfying him, even when he would put you and your pleasures before so much as thinking about himself.

you could never disappoint him, this he knows.

his lips find yours again and your doubts dissipate like the dark clouds after a storm. wandering hands begin unbuttoning and untying every piece of fabric in your way, desperate to reduce the layers keeping you from feeling his bare skin. your clothing clatter as they fall to the ground, diluc barely separating from you to discard his shirt before lowering back down to kiss you, not wanting to part from you for a second longer than necessary.

he's hungry for more, for you.

your hands find purchase on his toned arms, his skin almost too warm under your fingertips. he mumbles something that remotely resembles "off" into your mouth, and you comply almost too quickly, lifting your arms so he could take off your shirt and your bra.

diluc forces himself to hold back when your skin is fully exposed to him. lips glistening and chest heaving, you have never looked more beautiful to him, and he makes sure you know it. dipping his head to your neck, he trails a line of hot kisses down to your breasts, words of praise between every kiss permanently etched into your skin.

"you're breathtaking."

your face heats up as he slots himself in between your legs, hand lowering to your waist. your heart beats too loudly now, focus glued to his fingers hooking into your belt loops before quickly undoing the button on your pants. fiery eyes, hooded by lust and desire, search for confirmation, and you grant it. how could you not, when you burn for him so much?

diluc can’t help but groan out when your bottom half becomes exposed. his attention is quickly taken away by the thin material of your panties, damp and clinging to the wetness pooling between your legs, and he feels the sudden urge to bury his face there.

he runs a finger down your clothed folds and you jump, legs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure. with a hand on your knee, he holds your legs open to allow himself better access to where you need him the most. gently, he moves the soaked panties to the side, and the man fully has to sit back on his heels to drink in the sight before his eyes.

you’re so pretty, so sweet, so vulnerable for him, legs spread and pussy glistening with your arousal, all for him and him only.

he curses under his breath, heart swelling at how lucky he feels to be the one admiring your naked form. ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his pants, he dives in like a man starved, flattening his tongue against your pussy to get his first real taste of you.

your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact, diluc’s moan of satisfaction sending delicious vibrations into the deepest parts of your body. his tongue works fast magic on your cunt, licking and sucking and kissing like you’re a five course meal, the slurping sounds in perfect harmony with your soft pants of pleasure.

“fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

the satin of his bedsheet is wrinkled and twisted in your palms as you grip onto it, diluc’s hands quickly reaching up to find yours, your fingers interlacing as he eats you out, the moment so intimate that for a moment you forget the vulgarity of it all and just enjoy being so close to him, physically and emotionally.

you’re growing close, and diluc knows it. despite his pussydrunk state, he forces himself to pull away, his chin now coated with your wetness, before shifting his body up to kiss you again. you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, obediently granting access to his tongue when it swipes across your bottom lip. the room feels ten degrees hotter and it becomes harder and harder to breathe, until your need for oxygen finally overpowers your desire for him.

diluc’s eyes are alert when you gently push on his chest, his first thought being he’s done something you did not like. gently cradling his face in your hands, you say with a blissful smile the words he’s been longing to hear for so long.

“i need you, diluc.”

his last line of defense snaps and he lets his primal instincts take over, quickly ridding himself of his pants and undergarments before settling you against the plush pillows.

“are you absolutely sure-”

“yes.” you cut him off before he can finish, and diluc‘s ever-present confidence begins to waver. he needs this to be perfect for you.

swallowing thickly, he lines himself up at your entrance. you mirror his gulp as you notice for the first time how big he is, thick and girthy against your tiny hole.

“tell me if it hurts, please,” he asks, so much genuine guilt in his voice that you can’t refuse him an answer.

you yelp in pain when he starts to push in, his body immediately tensing up. only when you repeatedly reaffirm that you’re okay does he continue, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and whispering apologies and affirmations into your skin as he slowly sinks into you, until he’s completely buried inside you.

“you’re doing so good baby, yeah? that’s it.”

he stills for a moment to let you adjust. but selfishly he wishes to revel in your tightness and warmth for a little longer, your walls so snug against his cock like they were made just for him. he already can’t get enough, and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

you’re the one to initiate the kiss this time, silently giving him permission to move. his thrusts are slow and steady, the tip of his cock dragging against every nerve ending inside you, sending electric sparks throughout your body.

“so tight for me,” he grunts as he picks up his pace, trying to control his movements as to not hurt you, even though a part of him wants to slam into you and fuck you until you’re reduce to a babbling mess begging for his cock. but one look at your face and he feels immediate guilt at his sinful thoughts. you’re so innocent beneath him, bottom lip caught between your teeth and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

he can’t ruin you yet.

soft moans tumble past your parted lips as he reaches down to rub fast circles on your clit. every last cell in your body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure amplified tenfold from being in the presence of your lover, better than your own fingers could ever satisfy yourself.

you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even further, and diluc’s honour is reduced to barely hanging on by a thread.

“you’re taking me so good. so good for me.” he praises and you feel yourself gush around him, his words turning you on even further. it seems your earlier doubts were unnecessary, after all. you grow bolder, reaching up to dig your nails into his back, leaving red marks that claimed him as yours.

the stinging pain from your nails scratching against his skin sends diluc into another wave of euphoria, and he can’t hold himself back much longer. with a low grunt, he pins your wrists down above your head, dark eyes studying the microscopic changes in your expression as your hands are suddenly rendered useless, held down so submissively and at his mercy.

his eyes are fixated on the round of your breasts, bouncing so deliciously to the rhythm of his thrusts. a sudden clench of your cunt almost sends him collapsing on top of you, the tight grip he had maintained on your wrists now faltering from the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. he curses, the profanity soon turning into praise again at how good you’re taking him, how pretty you looks, and how much he loves you, his words almost doing more to build the knot in your stomach than his steady, deep thrusts.

he leans back to sit on his heels as he lets go of your wrists, moving to hold your legs above his shoulders. you cry out when his cock hits your most sensitive spot from the new position, the sheets once again wrinkled under your tight grip now that your hands are free once again.

“fuck y/n, i’m so close.”

you lift your hips to meet his thrusts half way, all the thoughts in your head replaced by your blinding desire for your release. diluc shifts his weight to hold your thighs open instead, leaning down so he can be close to you before he reaches his impending high. he wants to hold you, to hear you, to see you chase after your high.

your moans and cries are growing more frequent, each more high pitched than the last. they are music to diluc’s ears, music reserved only for him to hear, his own low grunts a perfect harmony.

“i’m so close- gonna cum- please-” you babble, tears dotting your lashes, and diluc has never seen a more beautiful sight.

the sudden warmth of his hand on your neck makes you jump. he doesn’t close his fingers around your throat (though you secretly wished he would), instead his touch is fleeting before moving to cup your face. you lean into him almost immediately, his thumb wiping the tears that escaped, down the smooth skin of your cheeks, and across your bottom lip. he’s hovering so close to you that you can see every freckle on his skin, lips mere centimetres from yours that his every exhale becomes your next inhale, so intimate that you find it hard to believe that he’s kissing you so sweetly while maintaining a relentless pace.

he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t hold back.

“cum for me,” he breathes into your parted lips, “i want to hear you.”

and you don’t need to be told twice. with a loud cry of his name you come undone around him, your slick quickly forming a ring of white at the base of his cock as he rides out your high, his pace becoming erratic and sloppy at the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“fuck,” he lets out a deep grunt as you repeatedly clench around him, the sound resonating from deep within his chest. his hands pat around the bed looking for yours, and soon after he locks your fingers together again he cums too, head buried in your shoulder and his cock shooting hot ropes into you, painting your walls white.

your legs are shaking as you come down from your high, your pussy so sensitive to any tiny movements that you almost cum again when he tries to pull out from you. the satin beneath you is soaked with a mix of both your essence, drops of white leaking from your sobbing hole when diluc finally pulls out.

he admires you in your post-orgasm glow, and not just at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and your pussy now moulded to the shape of him. it’s as if a soft silk has been draped over you, painting your features in glorious moonlight.

“you’re so beautiful.”

he breaks the silence that has enveloped you both while your breathing returned to normal.

you still find it foreign, the feeling of his compliments even as you’re spread out naked under him. as if sensing your disbelief, diluc repeats his words again, this time between wet kisses on your collarbone, etching his love for you into your body.

“so. beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, his heart swelling, “and all mine.”

note. me and who WHEN >:( also i hope you enjoy my subtle taylor swift reference at the beginning hehe m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox ♡

#luna writes ☽#genshin impact #genshin smut #diluc smut #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc

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val-cansalute · 5 months

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch.2

ch. 1

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

Doors bound to frames, and patched up curtains drawn over locked windows with rusted bolts.

The silence has lingered in your room since Ellie left, trying desperately to seep out of any gaps, but you’d sealed them all tight, barricaded yourself in, chained your mind and body to the guilt.

A few days must have passed since then. Who knows? They've all melted into each other like you're constantly between the light of day and the dark of night behind those covered windows.

All you've done is lay and think. Nothing more. Appetite and sleep abandoned you, and you retreated into your consciousness, the dark place that started to feel less like fire and more like warmth.

If Soren saw you now - well, God, you can't bring yourself to even consider that.

People came by intermittently and, by people, only the nurse woman and Maria, both of whom were met with an oh so welcoming silence as you ignored their knocks.

Then returned the silence, which happened to be anything but silent for you - the echo of memories hitting the walls of your mind amplifying, screeching mercilessly and bursting your eardrums from the inside out.

The cracking reverberates the loudest - right as his skull made contact with the wall, sending his brains projecting across it. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, piercing right through you.

His blood - your blood - insidiously crept it’s way into every corner, painting the walls around his deformed figure, dripping down into glistening crimson pools along the floor, spattering across your face, and absolutely drenching your hands in a way that wiped out any possibility of them ever being clean again.

The bat rattled against floor as you let it slip through your trembling fingers and then your mind went blank.

When you resurface, the thoughts still weigh heavy on your mind, and the malicious hiss,

“What have you done?!”

that usually follows morphs into a bloodcurdling cry, begging for your attention.

You can’t stay here. You cannot.

You are safe here, but you have no desire to be.

Alone and trapped in the memory of what happened that day, surrounded by people who only seem to make you feel even more alone in this dark room.

And you knew you had nothing to live for as soon as Soren was gone.

So, you’ll pack up and leave quietly when you can walk again-

BANG BANG BANG

The howling of the beginnings of a blizzard accompanies the sharp thuds against your door, shaking the frame. It almost scares you before you realise it’s just Maria or the nurse bringing food.

You sigh and pull the covers over your face, seeking relief from the harsh cold.

BANG BANG BANG

“HEY! IT’S ME! ELLIE! I KNOW YOU HAVE A CRUTCH! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

…

“HEY! THERE’S A FUCKING BLIZZARD AND I BROUGHT YOUR ASS FOOD! OPEN THE DOOR!”

BANG BANG-

The lock bursts off the door frame and projects across the room, letting the door fly open, in coming a gust of furious winds and snow, and a panicked string of curses from Ellie’s chapped lips as she rushes in and slams the door shut behind her.

You arose from the bed like a fucking vampire, probably resembling one too, and stared at Ellie who was leaning against the door, pushing out laboured breaths, with your jaw hanging open.

“Fuck, I can fix this- Damn- Shit, I just need… like… Fuck! Why’s this fucking lock so flimsy anyway?! And why the fuck didn’t you just open the door?!”

You ignore her rambling, “You broke my lock?”

“… Sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

She holds up a small stack of containers,

“You haven’t been opening the door so they sent me.”

“To break it open?”

“Hey, I said I was sorry, okay? I’ll fucking fix it… I just… need to check it out first…”

You sigh and let your head fall back against your pillow,

“Ellie, it’s almost midnight, and there’s a fucking blizzard outside. This couldn’t have waited till tomorrow?”

She walks towards where you’re laying and looks over you before setting the containers down on a nightstand.

“I know you haven’t eaten in days. People worry. Don’t be an asshole.”

“They’ll cope,” you grit out disdainfully, though it’s unwarranted, to which Ellie scoffs, seemingly losing her patience with your jarring change in character since she last saw you.

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“I’ll cope.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Ellie glances around the shadowy corners of your decrepit room.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“Feels like I’m in a coffin, you got a candle or some shit?”

“Uh, I think there’s one on the desk. But I’m going to sleep anyway.”

“Looks like you’ve been sleeping for days. Want me to neaten this place up for ya? You’re not allowed to say no, by the way.”

“How about ‘not really?”

“Oh, you getting smart with me?”

“Fuck off.”

“In a minute.” She trudges around the room, kneeling stiffly to retrieve discarded trash littering the floor with little strained puffs.

For some reason, you’re annoyed that you can’t get back to the silence. You’re annoyed that she interrupted your thoughts so violently. Now she’s cleaning, trying to crack open a window to let out the stale air and smacking it down as soon as a flurry of snowflakes enters, and you’re sitting there, watching her, unable to get back into your head.

A giggle itches at your throat but you swallow it, glancing over her and the way the tip of her nose is tinged pink from the cold.

Cute.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“Uhh… Fuck. I don’t know, just close my eyes and run fast as I can.”

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, yeah, not much else I can do.”

“…You know, you can stay if you want to. Just for the night.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about want to, but I might stick around just to check up on your ankle, you know, do you a favour.”

“Pssh. In that case, you’re more than welcome to leave, dude.”

“No, I'll stay, since you practically begged me.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

A few moments later, the room is brighter, clearer, fresher, and Ellie forced you to eat under her beady-eyed, scrutinizing gaze. You shift your leg, staring down at the swell beneath the bandage as Ellie stands awkwardly at the foot of your bed, having stripped off a few outer layers.

You look over at her, not really sure what to do other than gather all your willpower to not stare at the way her nipples poke through the fabric adorning her.

Fucking cold in here.

You rub your eyes furiously, as though you want to push them back into your skull, and throw yourself back onto your pillow.

"Jesus. You trynna go blind or something?" she chuckles, a rasp laced in her voice.

"Shhhh. I'm sleeping."

"Oh yeah? You asleep?" You can hear the smirk in her voice and the floorboards creaking beneath her step as she closed in on you. You crack open an eye to give her a bemused look, even though her words made your insides turn.

"Yes."

"Uh-huh, right."

"Right."

"So... You got a sleeping bag or some shit?"

"Nope."

"Blankets?"

"No."

"Wha- I- So are you expecting me to just huddle up on the couch when it's, like, minus a bajillion degrees outside?!"

"I don't know..." You open your eyes and think. It's genuinely cold. There's a blizzard so she can't get home. There's no blankets. You know you're going to regret what you're about to propose, but you spit it out before nerves restrain you.

“You cool with sleeping on the bed?”

She scratches her neck, a torn expression on her face.

"I mean... Isn't that... You know?"

“No, I don't know. Look, it's not weird, just don't think freezing to death seems like an attractive option. Just for the night.”

She scoffs, more so out of shock than mockery, “Okay.”

“Yeah, just a suggestion but if you’re uncomfortable with that then I’ll-”

“No… Why would I be…? Plenty of room for us to share the bed."

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes of awkward shuffling around, Ellie pulls the covers back and settles on the outermost edge of the bed, almost rolling right off, with her back turned to you.

You're not much better, laying close to the other side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a body stiff as a plank of wood

"You... uh, you okay over there?" she asks hesitantly

A quick,

"I’m okay, thank you," rushes past your lips as you try to settle your heart rate. It's this time of night that the thoughts start flooding in. You know there's no point in bothering to try to sleep.

The covers rustle beside you as Ellie, courageous as ever, turns to face you, eyes raking over your figure curiously.

"Good... Just checking," she says softly, quietly, words coming out soft as cotton. Then she turns to face the ceiling and silence blankets the room.

After a few hours, your eyes are bloodshot and fixated on the same crack in the wall that they had been for a while now. The glass is starting to overflow, and you don't know that you'll be able to hold back the tears even just for one night.

You can only hope Ellie's asleep when the restrained sound of your sniffles tears through the heavy silence every now and then. Your chest tightens when you hear Ellie start to make some soft grumbling noises, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns back over to face you.

"Hey," she says, her hand hovering over your shoulder,

"Let me see that ankle for a sec."

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan, hoping she can't make out the slight quiver in your voice, "Why? Why can’t we just sleep?"

"Just... wanna see how bad the swelling is," Ellie mumbles, sounding annoyed.

"I know your dumb ass wouldn't tell me if it was hurting.

You sit up shakily, the darkness casting a shadow over your glistening eyes, and lift your leg to your chest. Ellie reaches a hand out and gingerly runs it over the bandages, tugging them away and feeling the area for swelling.

"See? It’s fine."

She gazes up at you, her eyes lingering for a moment before she nods.

"Yeah, looks okay, I guess," she sighs.

"Can't be sure with you... But, fine, whatever, go to sleep."

You rest your head back against the pillow with a sigh and close your eyes.

However, sometime later in the night, you feel Ellie nudging your already awake figure.

"Hey."

She's speaking very quietly, but there's something urgent in her voice. You rub your stinging eyes, somehow annoyed at her for pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What?"

"I need to check your ankle again."

"No, it feels fine, go back to sleep."

Ellie stays silent for a second before letting out a long sigh.

"Yeah, well, I'm checking it anyways," she says.

"Just roll over."

From her tone, you can tell that Ellie isn't asking this time, so you do as she says and show her your wound, though her eyes are yet again focused on your face for a little longer.

"Okay... It looks fine. Again."

Ellie shakes her head for a moment before lying back down. She watches you shuffle around before muttering,

"Damn it."

"What?"

"I... You know what? I can't sleep, so talk to me."

"You were just sleeping th-"

“Yeah, well, it’s gone, so talk to me,” she hissed, to which you rolled your teary eyes, trying to gain a few crumbs of composure before speaking.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. I mean, I don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s cuz there’s nothing to know,” you mumble. You know that’s not the truth.

“… Just… Look, what’s your favourite colour?”

You raise an eyebrow skeptically,

“Favourite colour? Are you serious?”

“Yes! Just answer the question, asshole.”

“Fine. It’s purple. It’s the most colourful colour.”

“Purple… Huh, didn’t expect that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t… I don’t know, you don’t exactly seem into colourful stuff. Kinda expected you to say black or something.”

You snort indignantly, turning your head to meet her heavy, mesmerising eyes.

“Says you… I would never.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?! I’ll have you know that I, also, would never.”

An easy chuckle bubbles through you as you look up at the ceiling. Easy. Simple, all the things she said and the way the conversation slowly diffused into something more balanced, ridden of the initial obvious strain on Ellie’s part to get you to stop feeling whatever you were feeling when she saw your shoulders quiver in the moonlight.

Your head tilts to look at her for the first time after a while, skin dry of the tears that evaporated off your skin as you grinned, telling her the pun you claimed was better than hers and waiting for a response with a mind miraculously clear of the thoughts that polluted it up until a moment ago.

Ellie’s bottom lip is tugged between her teeth to hold back her own smile, though the creases beside her eyes give her away,

“Oh, was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Uh, yeah, it was. Don’t act like you didn’t find it funny! Not after how much you laughed at your shitty ones!”

She raised her eyebrows playfully, feigning a somber tone, “I don’t know, bu- OW! He- What the hell?!” as her face hit the pillow you launched at it. The sight of her face suddenly full of confusion draws a laugh from you - a real one. You hadn’t felt that familiar warmth for so long.

Caught up in the lightheartedness of the moment, you meet her gaze with a grin, holding up the pillow menacingly,

“Sorry, been wanting to do that for a while,”

Ellie grabs onto your wrists, a pure grin adorning her lips as she desperately attempts to fight your hands away from her through laughter and muttered “fuck”s. You give into her struggle with a groan and she pins the pillow and your hands back against the bed.

There’s a shift - both of you can feel it, neither of you expected it, as Ellie looms over you, loose auburn locks dangling close to your skin.

Your stomach turns. This is bad. This is wrong. This feels uncomfortably right.

Play it off, you tell yourself, unable to decipher the thought behind Ellie’s slightly furrowed brow, before you let out a laugh you hope sounded natural and playfully push her back onto the mattress.

Your heart is racing; you can feel the beat in your thighs which twitch every now and then, but you do a good job at hiding it, allowing the conversation to lull into that comforting silence like before, kindly putting you to sleep after hours of trying.

Those thoughts never stopped racing though, outrunning the thoughts of him…

a/n: boring ass chapter again, this is gonna be slow asf but it gets more eventful after this, i promise 😩 prolly some smut later too… creds to cafekitsune for dividers

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kryptid-writes · 5 months

Text

Always and Forever

Having known Astarion long before he was turned, an unexpected reunion with the man you once loved stirs up a whirlwind of emotions.

1.7k (angst&fluff)

To say your life had gone from uneventful to spiraling chaos in the course of a single day is an understatement. Having been abducted by mind flayers, surviving the crash of a nautiloid ship, and having a damn tadpole wriggling around your head, you’re now working with a group of unfortunate souls doomed to the same fate as you unless you can find a healer.

These strangers have all been rather welcoming in their own sense, some more than others. All of them except for one, a pale elf with a serious attitude problem. Since the moment you ran into him, he’s been very distant, always traveling behind the party or several paces ahead, never making eye contact, and avoiding conversations by all possible means.

What puzzles you is why he only acts that way towards you. He's had no problem engaging with the others. What had you done to piss him off? After all, you’ve been perfectly friendly, even offering to share your rations, an apple and a bottle of below average wine that he had so blatantly rejected without saying so much as a word. Instead, he just walked away to his tent, burying his nose in a book he suddenly found oh so interesting. The whole interaction has left an unpleasant taste in your mouth that wasn’t entirely the fault of the wine.

As night crept upon us, conversations died down and one by one everyone retired to their tent. Eventually, you follow suit, but sleep did not bless you this night. You stay awake, staring at the roof of your tent, pondering why the elf seemingly hates you so. The look of distaste on his pale face paints your mind, but the more you picture it, the more unsettled you feel.

On a subconscious level you recognized something in him. His sharp features, silvery voice, and charming smile felt so familiar, yet so foreign. Then it dawns on you. He’s someone you knew long ago. Of course, it’s been nearly two centuries and he looks a lot different now. You remember the way the sunlight brought the golden hues out of his brown hair. It was longer at the time, more neatly groomed. It was a beautiful contrast to his green eyes that were as deep as the forest itself. His skin was a warm tan from his time outdoors. Oh, how he loved the sun.

Astarion. How could you not have seen it before?

You step out of your tent, needing a breath of fresh air to clear your head of it all, and there sat in front of the weakening fire is the man you had once known so intimately. In a moment of courage, you quietly approached him, taking a seat by his side.

His gaze never left the fire, the warm glow reflecting in his dark, crimson eyes. Surely he knows you’re there, but perhaps he will continue to pretend you don’t exist. Perhaps that’s all he wants from you, to be left alone. But you’d be damned if you don’t say something. You have to know. You look into the fire, willing it to give you strength.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Your eyes stay fixed on the flames, waiting for some sort of response, if one was even to come. Astarion doesn't respond at first, your hope of getting any sort of response dwindling by the second.

“Indeed it has,” he finally replies, his voice uncharacteristically somber. The sweet man you once loved now looks as if the world has broken him into a million pieces, the warmth in his eyes long gone.

“It’s been, what? 200 years?”

“201, yes.” His gaze never falters from the fire, as if he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye.

“I almost didn’t recognise you. You look… different,” you try to say delicately, but the scowl on his face tells you he doesn’t take kindly to that comment.

“Yes, well, a lot has happened since then. I’m not the man you once knew.” His voice is cold.

“Fate is a cruel master, is it not?”

“That it is,” he replies with a somber expression. He exhales deeply from his nose, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

What… happened?” You ask cautiously, scared that he may scamper off like a wounded animal at any moment.

He sighs, his piercing eyes finally meeting yours, as if truly seeing you for the first time. It still makes your heart flutter as it did so long ago. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to share on his own accord.

“Do you remember the last night we spent together? That night at the tavern?” He asks.

“Of course I do, how could I forget? We had a lovely evening together at the tavern and spent, well, a rather intimate night together. One of many. I fell asleep in your arms, but when I awoke, you were gone,” your lips tug into a frown.

His expression mirrors yours, painting a mournful look. “I remember that night clearly despite it being many centuries ago. I had business to attend to, you know how it was. I meant to return to you before the sun rose, to hold you in my arms once again. But as it seems, fate had different plans for me.” His eyes dull as he speaks, like his mind has wandered far from here.

“I was attacked. A gang of vagrants. A tribe of wandering ‘Gur,’ took issue with a ruling I made. They beat me to death's door. When Cazador appeared, he chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life.” He looks to the sky for a moment, as if the stars would give him the chance to change the past.

“Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the streets’, I took him up on the offer.” He sighs.

“It was only afterwards I realized just how long eternity could be… an eternity without you.” His gaze meets yours, the pain in his eyes saying a thousand unspoken words.

You fall quiet, at a complete loss for words. You thought he had left you in cold blood. The love of your life gone in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. And perhaps the anger made it easier to accept, perhaps that’s why you’d let it consume you for so long. Finally hearing the truth after so many decades of anger, hurt, and confusion, leaves you with a deep feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say quietly, the urge to reach out and comfort him tugs at your heart strings, but you resist, scared of how he may react.

He nods in acknowledgement, sitting in silence for a few moments.

“As it would happen, I became a slave, a vampire spawn kept by the Szarr family.” He looks at you with genuine care for the first time in centuries. “You must know I tried to get back to you. I tried to escape many times in hope I could see you just once more. But Cazador had a cruel sense of obedience. But being away from you when you were just within reach? That was the true torture.”

“Astarion…” Your voice comes out a weak whisper, stolen away by grief. Your heart truly breaks for him.

“The thought of being with you again kept me going. Even 200 years later, you’re my glimmer of hope in the darkness,” he says, letting his eyes fall closed for just a breath.

“Then why? Why avoid me when I'm right here?”

“Just look at me!” He snaps, centuries of pent up self hatred breaking through. “I don't need a reflection to see what I've become. A monster. A freak of nature driven by a lust for blood.” Angry tears prick his narrowed eyes. “The gentle, carefree man you once knew is dead. I’m a shell of the person you loved.”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces. Maybe it’s true, maybe the man you once knew is dead, broken by the world, but perhaps you could learn to love this version of him too.

“Astarion, you’re not a monster-”

He cuts you off before you can even finish. “You don’t know what I've done! The people I led back to Cazador, sentencing them to their death. There must have been a thousand of them, and I remember each and every one.” The chains of his actions weigh heavily on him. His body trembles, a whirlwind of emotions that he has repressed for centuries, now clashing together all at once in a miserable symphony.

“You did what you had to to survive.” You place your hand on his, the feeling of his soft skin bringing back so many memories. “That doesn’t make you a monster.”

“Could you…” He takes a deep breath, his voice shaking with nerves and doubt. “Could you still love someone like me?” His face softens, no longer hiding his vulnerability.

“Of course I could. I do. Star. My Star.” You intertwine your fingers with his. Your hands still fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.

He smiles a real genuine smile, possibly for the first time in centuries. “You… you still love me? Even after everything?”

“More than you know. I never stopped loving you. Even two centuries later, you’re who I dream of each night. some part of me hoped that one day I'd be in your arms again. I’ve never even taken another lover, no one could compare.” You lean your head against his shoulder, a gesture he gladly accepts.

“I love you too. I always will.” He places a soft kiss to the top of your head, quietly humming in content.

There's a comfortable silence that hangs in the air like a warm blanket, only broken by the soft pops of the fire and the occasional howl of the wind. For once, the world felt quiet, like it was only the two of you. When the morning dawns, so will the burdens that we carry: the tadpoles, the new form your lover’s taken, the years of conflicted emotions, but tonight none of that matters. All that matters is you’re back in Astarion’s arms once again.

A/N: I’m so sorry for my long hiatus, I got swept up in school work. But my semester is over now which gives me more time to write!

Masterlist

#Astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff #astarion angst #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav

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