#if you wanted to be tagged IM SORRY I have a lot of cool mutuals so I could have made that list a lot longer shbjfn

[homunyas]

tagged by @tinkerbitch69! thank you 💕

every friend group I'm in assigns me as mom friend against my will, why is this my curse😭

picrew | uquiz

I'll tag @softsapphicvibes @chronic-lesbian @lostryu @paopujuice @broodingnightgoddess @flowergirlmiwa @mellowgoop @azuredragonsphire @misshalloran @bumblingbee1 @nova-the-star-witch @parfaitcocoa @redactedbutch @laceyfawn @darthimperius and anyone else who wants to do it~

#if you wanted to be tagged IM SORRY I have a lot of cool mutuals so I could have made that list a lot longer shbjfn #txt #picrew

[prettyboykatsuki]

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

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

☾ wc ; 21.8k (????)

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

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

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

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

ao3 link for reading | spotify playlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_ 

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepens as you hang your head in shame. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion huffs. “Everyone here is so unfair.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Limiting?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” Wyll asks. 

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

___ 

You remain together. Despite the mess.  Somehow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wyll! There you are,” 

 Wyll’s eyes snap up.

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

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

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

It’s a full moon tonight. 

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

“Is it too intrusive for me to ask?” 

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t think he succeeds at it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on. Sit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I’m sorry?” 

Your laugh is bright, and bubbly. 

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

Wyll finds himself both awestruck and amused.

“These are all rather specific,” 

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

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

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

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

You flush, suddenly becoming timid. 

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

You add the last part a little quieter. 

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

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

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

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

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

You smile but don’t say anything more.

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Counselor Florrick coughs as she makes her way outside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust us to see it through, Counsellor.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was thinking the same,” Wyll adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too, Counselor Florrick.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no betrayal in your face, no disappointment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___ 

The journey to the Underdark is never an easy one. 

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

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

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

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

Wyll likes you that way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wyll clears his throat. 

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

Shadowheart laughs good-naturedly. 

“Sure you don’t.” 

___

There are few times you take your proper werewolf form. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s never found you so beautiful. 

___

Time moves differently in the Shadowfell lands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said your goddess called to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alone had been sent?

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

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

“Where do you hail from?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes briefly, letting them flutter open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And after?” 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” 

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

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

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

“What did you realize?” He prompts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes you don’t.

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

You pretend to consider it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“There’d be no greater honor.” 

__ 

When Myrkul falls, the world is silent. 

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

And this is in no small part thanks to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A fever?”

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

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

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

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

Shadowhearts frown deepens, as does Wylls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh and Wyll swears it sounds nervous. 

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

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

You throw your head back and laugh brilliantly.

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

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

“You better.” 

__

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

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

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

Hells. What a troublesome situation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?” 

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

Wyll doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Shadowheart.” 

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

“Right. I’ll do that now.” 

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

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

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

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

__ 

Wyll barely makes it before the darkness settles in. 

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

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

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

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

Before Wyll lays eyes on you, he hears you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Shit. 

“You’re in…heat.” 

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

Wyll doesn’t move. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can touch me,” He assures. 

You sob. 

“Not just touch. Wyll, please, go.” 

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

Your eyes flicker open in disbelief. 

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

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

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

“Tell me. Can I touch you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you say that?” 

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

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

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

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

You flush, and mumble. “Pervert.” 

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

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

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

Wyll smiles at you. He wants to kiss you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How should I touch you my love?” 

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

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

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

“Do it before I lose my mind anymore,” 

Wyll laughs playfully against your skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can do the same for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wyll smiles against you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hiccup, another loud sob as Wyll keeps steady. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Take your pants off, dammit.” 

Wyll can’t help his laughter.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” 

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

“Bumps and prongs, huh,” 

Wyll flushes immediately, making you laugh. 

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

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

“I’m sorry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a compliment?”

“...It’s meant to be one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

“Are you still all there?” 

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

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop being so romantic and fuck me.” 

He kisses your hairline. “As you wish.” 

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

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

Wyll groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum, Wyll. For me, please.” 

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

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

“Is something—” 

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

Wyll pauses before breaking out into a giggle. 

“I was worried for a minute.” 

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

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

__ 

EPILOGUE: 

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

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

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

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

The first person to see you at camp is Karlach. 

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

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

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

“Ah, uhm, yes.” 

Astarion stands next to Wyll with his arms crossed. 

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

Wyll chokes on his spit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hardly.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for headcanoning deadnames for trans characters for symbolism purposes?

im a trans guy (minor if it matters) who's been a fan of this one show for a little over a year. none of the characters are canonically trans, but there's a lot of trans allegories to be drawn from the material if you're me or my mutuals at least. the two main characters are both male and i ended up developing an au where they're both explicitly transmasc as a way for me to just explore trans themes in an alternate narrative. i haven't begun writing it yet but definitely plan to once i feel like it's solidly locked in my brain, and i've been sharing snippets & concepts every so often.

part of this was thinking of how they would've chosen their current names, and name symbolism got me considering what they would've changed them away from as well. one character i thought could've initially been named after his mother so i can draw contrasts between the two, and the name i decided on for her has a meaning that highlights her relationship with her father (and the character's relationship with his father in turn); it's also the name of the character's daughter figure in the show. a lot of the other main character's backstory kind of revolves around his dead sister, so i thought by making his deadname that sister's name then i could turn that into an allegory about transness and childhood and sibling death (and sororicide but we don't have time to unpack all that). i don't plan on ever explicitly referring to the characters by their deadname in the narration, except maybe in an ironic tone, but i think it would be cool to sort of sprinkle in references as subtext to just give the readers something more to chew on.

the thing is i've seen posts around talking about how nice it is to make trans characters/headcanons without once considering their deadnames, or how weird it is for people to consider them, and i definitely agree with the sentiment; one of the biggest goals for many trans people is for their past selves to be completely irrelevant, and i feel a bit guilty for perpetuating something so painful for the general community.

but i still don't think i'm an asshole in any way since these are literally just characters and obviously i'm not going around talking about real people's deadnames or anything. i just don't want to make people uncomfortable/trigger dysphoria if they find someone talking about deadnames for a trans charactsr they're attached to (i've definitely had that happen myself when reading trans fics, enough that i had to stop reading, and i don't know how you'd even tag for something like that). if the general gut reaction to this ask is negative then i'll probably consider just not talking about the deadnames unless someone asks about it, since they're not crucial to the plot at all, just some uhh not so fun tidbits.

anyway sorry this is so long for something i feel like might be a non-issue that i'm overthinking. if you somehow guessed the fandom have a chocolate 🫀 if you're one of my few mutuals who knows who i am from the details of the au then um pretend you didnt see this post.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[katesprydes]

happy end of 2023 and beginning of 2024 to all of my mutuals! i've never done one of these before but i wanna do a little post in honor of my mutuals <3 if i leave anyone out im so sorry i have the brain of an ostrich. and if you didnt wanna be tagged theres absolutely no obligation to reply, i just want everyone to know that im thinking of them

first and foremost, everyone in the goose coven. you guys have been so amazing and joining the server has been one of the best parts of my year <3 i love all of you so much @longlivestv @theladyinwhite13 @imperpetuallylost @alltheliars @halucynator @weeping-in-the-willows @a-beautiful-fool @eyesopentv @theautistmwitch @5ducksinatrenchcoat @andi-is-bored @animallover4000 @magicandmaybe @thepatriarchykeychain @octoberconstellation @sluttycaseyjones @its-tortle

and @longlivestv you are one of my favorite people ever and talking to you is so so wonderful and following you was one of the best decisions ive ever made <3 thank you for being my wife

and for my mutuals from either psc or lgbtqc, you guys are so cool. like so cool that i cant believe that you follow me. thank you guys for being awesome <3 @craintheodora @antoniosvivaldi @eddiediaaz @zerokinkade @scullyblr @lemoncupcake @moirainesedai @singularities @heroeddiemunson @breakbleheavens @sadbeautifutragic @laurabenanti

and also the maisie mutuals from mpn <3 talking about maisie with you guys is very fun and being in that server is awesome, thank you guys <3 @silversmists @cascadeoceanwave @good-enemy @castellansluke @decoratedlawns @lunar-years

and also dean <3 you get your own category because of how long i've known you. being friends these past few years has been so great and i hope there are many more <3 @howiehans

and also my handful of swiftie mutuals! i cant remember all of you and if i didnt tag you just know i am still thinking of you <3 you guys are great and you make being on the edge of swiftie tumblr a lot of fun @itstimetogo @dearreader @ithinkheknowss @isitovrnow @jewelledmoths @togetmeby @longbottom @saynothingback @pippamints @tangerineneon @lighttupthiswholetown

and then my two comic book mutuals <3 you guys are awesome and i love talking with you guys! @rep-meow-tay-tion @stars-and-birds

i ran out of room, so if i didnt tag you, just know that i still love you a lot and all of you guys are so great! happy new years to all of you <3

#mutuals tag #karolina.txt

[dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies]

*edit: i have decided if you requested partner in crime, venice bitch, or waiting room yours will be done last just for efficiency so i can get through the quicker ones first <33*

hii i just wanted to share some of my new year’s resolutions as preparation for 2024😭😭

 learn guitar, read at least (!!!) a book a month, improve my drawing, improve my cooking skills, eat healthy, make the most of term 2, be so alive it aches, be more open and engaged with people and connection, laugh lots, cry hard, be present, be a bit less bitchy to my parents learn to crochet, care less about what other people think, study hard and try to be passionate about what i’m learning, go for walks in the nature, etas lots of strawberry sorbet and ice cream and dance in the rain :)

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

~dandy’s 200 celebration!!~

ahhh first of all thank you so much for 200 followers! thats actually insane i love you guys so much <33

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

silk chiffon - i give you a list of things that remind me of you!

ribs - i make you a (small) playlist!

waiting room- i make you a moodboard based on your blog or personality!

not strong enough - i write you a letter (mutuals only)

you’re so fucking pretty - i guess what you look like based on ~vibes~! no longer available i got bored lmao

lacy - you ask me to listen to a song and i tell you what i think!

all i wanted - i make you a small drawing of your choice (preferably people i suck at drawing anything else)!

casual - i give you music recs! edit: i think i’ll use this one to recommend smaller artists so would love if anyone asks for this!!!!

american teenager - i give you book/tv show recs!

partner in crime - i design you an outfit using pinterest!

venice bitch - i design you a room using pinterest!

not a lot, just forever - you tell me a problem and i give you advice!

coming of age - i give you an artist, album, and song that reminds me of you!

false god - i shuffle my playlist until i find a song that gives your vibes + give you my fave lyric from it!

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

followers only

send requests in asks please

limit of two requests per ask

there’s no overall request limit

this will probably end by february bc that when i start school again

<3333

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

@astraeasparrow @literatureisdying @leaskisses444 @zzzzzzzzzee @tellme-o-muse@xgirlidiotx @lalallorona @crowgenius @my-cages-were-mental @none-of-it-was-accidental @imswimmingback @a-portal-to-nowhere @emailsicntsend@5ducksinatrenchcoat @recklessandyoung @waitingforthesunrise @radio-silencepdf@pho3b3-tayl0r-luvr @ineedibuprofen @emilybrontesghost @moonartemisandstar@gayoticbeing @photogenic-strawberry @maxdamax @august-taylors-version@svnflowermoon @the-turtle-fan @dcfcyay @mandythedino @holdmyteaplease@strawberryloveyyy @imperpetuallylost @bookscorpion73 @skeelly @swiftieannah@channnnnieee555 @strats-blood @vams225 @the-smiley-blue-axolotl@mushroomcarrotstick @waiting-down-the-hall-for-me @niallermybabe @pazoo-underscore@personifiedgoldenretriever@thebestieyoureinlovewith@electric-sheeeep @if-i-could-give-u-the-moon@fire-but-ashes-tootoo @trying-to-be-cool-abt-itit @brenninthetaylorverse@shortgaything @cc-horan28 @isitoversnowtvs@my-mind-is-frozen@giveuthemo0n @evazlana @someones-name-inserted-here- @the-stars-sing@aaalixaf@photogenic-strawberry @qwerty-keysmash @coco6420 @evermore-4-life@eden-crowley-fellfell @trashmeowcan@parasite-2-2 @folklore-girlgirl @urbanflorals @nqds @judeisthedude @returnofthecabbageman @thats-the-power-of-love @stvrlighhttt @enchanting-grom-fright @imslowlydisintegrating @loving-the-marauders @loveisaseriousmentaldisease @dicklesssswonder @bassguitarinablackt-shirt

uhhh that’s a long list of most of my mutuals i think ahh sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged please tell me if you want to be added/removed

omg i’m insane why’d i tag that many people IM SORRYYY (it’s the notes app list istg)

#dandy’s 200 celebration!! #just dandy thoughts #intro #pinned post #<- see either of those two previous tags for more about me

[kiitruss]

hi my name is kit, ive been hyperfixated on detco for almost 3 years now and im here to make an insanely long intro post because i wanna post stuff and the other detco artists here are so cool and i dont see them on any other platform (for the most part)

Detective conan fans/the people ive adopted as my mutuals even tho theyre not ! (i follow them, they dont follow back, but i interact with the detco content they post so much that i might as well be that one guy in the corner watching the rest of the mutuals talk) HELLO- some of you have probs seen me in ur rbs/tags (depending on who sees this) , and i dont really ever post my Own things, but i do draw ! a lot ! ive done a lot of things and i want more fans to see bc everyone here is so cool 😭 this isnt an interest post more just a "hey whos out there thatll see what i post" kinda deal- ill attach some art under the cut but pretty much what im trying to say is,, (literally choose whatever speaks to ur heart)

these vary in recent-ness,, im in school and im left with very little time to draw, so some of these are from a month or two ago ;; but i only picked what i think still looks good ^^ some are quick doodles, others are unfinished, or even just drawings to test techniques (like the colored shinichi one)- and the second drawing isnt even detco LMAO

the 3rd and 7th doodles are from my project sekai au, thats an explanation for a different post,, and the last 2 are APTX!Heiji doodles !! the last ones part of a mini comic i made a bit back about him first waking up shrunk, which i can make a post with the whole thing later (maybe- it looks a little wonky)

but thats all for now ^^ sorry long first art post but i wanted to let this be sort of also me introducing my art and myself a bit,, and part of me is that i talk way to fuckin much LMFAO- detco is such a huge hyperfixation, and its so important to me and i just adore it so much- so i ramble and ramble and ramble on and on about it

im really excited to maybe meet some people and yeah ! happy scrolling ^^💚

#such a long read im so sorry #detco fans pls interact i beg #i honestly hope some of the artist i keep up with see this bc their stuff is always so good and id love to be mutuals with them #whats the word for “i want to be mutuals with you” in the same way someone with a crush is #i could go on and on but its barely 9am and ive been awake since 8 . im sick and have no clue why i woke up so early- so ill cut it here #feel free to ask au questions !! ill talk ur ear off but i love to talk about aus and hcs !! #or express interest in an au getting its own intro post (even tho ill most likely do that anyways) !! i love to talk about these idiots!! #detective conan #dcmk #detco #my art #shinichi kudo #hattori heiji #oh and the second drawing is a design of Yumi from The Group Chat i made for the song Bloody Daisies (stream it its so good) #<- idk if anyone would know of them since random youtuber fanart .. but if ur curious

[ikissjesse]

could you do some aaron t/aaron z headcanons pls!

omg yes ofc !! ty for the request <333 since 3 ppl requested aaron² hc's (nothing specific) im gonna put all ur requests into this once post !!

tags: @i-need-a-slurpee @hrts4ariana ( note as of writing: this was a draft from 1719817282 years ago so if u forgot abt this n no longer wanted to be tagged im sorry🥲 )

as i mentioned in this post, they both adore musicals, especially hamilton

aaron² hc's !!

reblogs appreciated + reqs open <3

they like listening to the soundtracks together when they hangout

sometimes when there's a musical near where they are on tour they go together in their free time

u didn't hear it from me but they held hands during one of these musicals bc the room was dark n they thought noone would notice

as bros, ofc.. homies hold hands during musicals !!

they totally sing non-stop from hamilton together its cannon bc i say so

anyway enough abt hamilton for now

there was def mutual pining

they were both like "fuckidishcoaoxjaoa he just thinks of me as a friend"

"friend" NO HE WANTS U SO BAD -God probably idk

the way they attempted to "drop hints":

t tried to make z laugh a lot, even more than he usually did

pranks became less extreme than they normally were, he wanted to surprise him, not scare him to death like he used to

z would, although he denies this, try to do basketball tricks to impress t whenever he is at the basketball court w him

both of them went to jesse for advice, not knowing the other was doing the same

"hey jesse uhm- what should i do if, theoretically, ihavearlybigcrushonsomeonewhoiveknownforawhilebutithinktheyseemeasafriendandireallyreallyREALLYwannabemorebutidontwannaruinourfriendship????" -t

"...what?" -jesse

needless to say jesse was confused as hell

he sent him off w some advice after t slowed down enough for him to understand, then about 15 minutes later z came rambling about the same thing

"JESSE YOU'RE A HIT WITH THE LADIES, AND THE GAYS, AND..BASICALLY ANYONE. HOW DO I FLIRT WITH SOMEONE IVE KNOWN FOR AGES WHO IM PRETTY SURE SEES ME AS JUST A FRIEND?????" -z

thats what made it click for jesse, n he just laughed at the realization

giving him the same advice he gave t, he snickered at the idea of the aarons having a crush on eachother but being too stupid blind to see the feelings were mutual

"thanks jess!!" -z to jesse, running off

"yeah no problem man hehehshshehsh goodluck! HEHEHHEHE"

building up as much courage as he could, z eventually made the first move a few days later

he asked t if he'd like to join him for a musical that would take place at a nearby theater, n he gladly accepted

little did t know where this would lead <33 achoo anyways

as the lights dimmed during a 'romantic' scene, aaron z took t's hand in his own n (quietly) confessed his feelings towards his long-time bestfriend

saying t was happy would be an understatement

the energetic boy yanked him into a hug, leaving his stoic counterpart(ner) highly confused and extremely flustered

choking from t's tight embrace, his face became beet red

"Im, uhm- assuming you feel the same?"

well NO FUCKIN WAY SHERLOCK WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT -God again probably

"yeah dumbass, ofcourse i do!" t whisper-yelled, trying to keep his excitement down as they were still in a theater after all !!!

after that, z just smiled n wrapped his arms around t's waist, returning the hug

but wait !! theres more !!

what kind of ikissjesse ship post would this be without cute couple hc's ???

the quiet stoic boy x loud energetic boy dynamic UUGF MY HEART I THINK IM DYIBG from how much i love this duo😔😔

z buys t a baseball cap in EVERY city/country they go to. every fucking one

even if its not a band tour, if z is out somewhere n sees a cool cap he thinks t would like, yall better believe this boy would cut off an arm n sell a kidney just for t to get that hat

t has a whole side in his closet dedicated to these hats z buys him, he finds it absolutely adorable

z actually thinks he isnt good at gift giving, so he was afraid t wouldnt like it at first, but t's reaction is enough conformation that he adores it

now what kinda aaron² hamilton lover truther would i be if i didnt mention the musical again 💪💪

they have FREQUENT hamilton marathons together, sometimes the other members of 4*town will join in too !!

they still sortve act like they did before, like friends n what not

however theyre also 300% more flirty

by that i mean T is 300% more flirty

z might be a LITTLE bit but def not as much as my boy aaron t (the r in aaron stands for rizzler -aaron t)

z isn't a big fan of PDA himself, however when t does little displays of affection when theyre in public he loves it ( he doesn't say it out loud bc he's shy but he does smile at t or to himself, holding t's hand or draping an arm over his shoulders )

when theyre in private z will hug t from behind, hold his waist, kiss his forehead, etc .... yk... bro stuff......

t surprises him by going BOO!!! and jumping up to put his arms around his shoulders from behind, which at first scared z shitless n earned t a lecture about why he shouldn't scare him like that bc z WILL swing but z is okay with it now n actually smiles ALBEIT A VERY SMALL SMILE when he does it

dates include but r not limited to playing basketball late at night together, movies, watching musicals, roadtrips to literally anywhere long or short they just wanna be in eachothers presence OUGHG I LOVE THEM

i forgot to mention !!! t is definitely the one who asked to be boyfriends, but z accidentally said "I love you" first

t was doing something dumb again, and z shook his head as he laughed, accidentally mumbling the words "I love you" out loud

t stopped dead in his tracks n snapped his head in z's direction, n yall this boy was STRESSED he did NOT mean to let the world know this information

z covered his face with his hands n his face was PINK pink bro but t just laughed n walked over to him, cupping his face in his hands and staring at him with a very VERY smug but genuine n happy grin

z scoffed, but soon glanced back at the other boy and smiled shyly

theyre so cute im throwing up in class

there's more but i think this is long enough for now, sorry for the wait pls snack on this while u wait for the rest of my jesro + aaron² content i have planned WINK WINK

thank u for reading <3

#4town #turning red #4townie #4town aaron z #4town aaron t #aaron² #aaron t x aaron z #turning red headcanons #4town headcanons

[iraprince]

Heyo! Any advice on struggling to get your art seen in the world? I feel like no matter how much I post, or what I post, people never see it or seem to like it. I love art and am pursuing it as a career (hence why Im getting a degree in it currently lmao) but its kind of disheartening to work really hard on something, post it, and no one sees it.

oh, man. i'm afraid for this one i don't feel like i have a lot of solid advice. having a large-ish following online feels like something that kind of just, like, Happened to me, mostly on accident/in ways outside of my control, and even if i had some ideas on how to potentially replicate those gains i don't think they'd work consistently. (also, a lot of my large jumps in follower count came from mental health related work going viral bc it's #relatable; this is something i have complicated feelings about and it's absolutely not a viable, like, "strategy" or something that i would recommend, in the way that ppl can say like, "fanart gets attention!" or stuff like that.)

so, i don't have advice for how to actually GET those eyes on your art; i can maybe help with making ppl more likely to STAY once they do find you, and how to build a following that will actually help you maintain a living from your work -- bc i have TONS of peers w a following a fraction of the size of mine who get more jobs than me, are doing cooler/more "professional" stuff than me, etc! (heads up that most of my experience is on twitter; i know less than nothing about places like instagram + tiktok, and while tumblr functions very differently from twitter i feel like i handle things mostly the same here, aside from doing less personal posting/being less talkative and not 'networking' or following many people).

SCROLLING BACK UP TO ADD A SPOILER ALERT: AS ALWAYS I HAVE SAID "HAHA IDK I DON'T REALLY HAVE ANY ADVICE" AND THEN PROCEEDED TO TYPE A FULL ESSAY. IF YOU ARE ON DESKTOP YOU CAN HIT THE 'J' KEY TO SKIP THIS POST. IF YOU'RE ON MOBILE, I'M SORRY

a very important thing, especially professionally: it HAS to be easy to see what you do. (this is easier here on tumblr, where u can have a designated art tag etc, than on twitter, which is an awful website that sucks. <- guy who makes all his money on twitter) this means, like -- if i see something from you and get curious and click your profile, it should only take one more click to quickly see at least SOME of your art. on a professional account, it's probably best for your icon to be your own work, something snappy and memorable and eye-catching that reads well at a small size; people shouldn't have to dig for 20 minutes before they can start browsing your art. on twitter, this means TRY not to gunk up your media tab with a ton of reaction images/screencaps of your gacha pulls/etc; on here, it means make your art tag easy to find; on any website, a portfolio link, prominently displayed, is the best bet. (i am still working on that one myself lmao and i've been working professionally full time for a few years now so like, there are outliers and wiggle room on all of this).

next! it's great when your audience finds you, but you have to find them, too. find artists who do similar stuff to you and get into their stuff -- sincerely, not just as "networking." (like only do this with ppl whose stuff you actually think is cool, not just trying to get in mutuals with everyone you see in hopes of a bump, obviously.) get interested in other indie artists, find the people who are working/publishing in the spaces that are exciting and aspirational for you, and support them! i don't want it to sound cynical when i say there's a kind of give-and-take built into this; the point is not "well, if i reblog/retweet a bunch of YOUR stuff, maybe you'll feel obligated to boost mine in return," but that when you find other artists/creatives who are on the same wavelength as you, you will naturally stumble into pools of people who want to support art like yours, and you and your newfound peers will help each other when you hype each other's stuff up and direct followers to each other! (again re: things going differently on dif websites: this is twitter-specific for me, bc i use my tumblr as a gallery/portfolio. that doesn't mean it doesn't happen here tho! it can and does happen everywhere!)

it is really not a competition. i know that SOMETIMES it is in like, a really nitty-gritty numbers sense; people only have so much money to spare, they will make choices about whose patreon they can afford/what comic to buy/etc, that's true. but to me that's not competition. people who are sincerely into your stuff will hang on until they can afford it; maybe that means someone follows you for two whole years before the planets align and they have the budget/opportunity to commission you. by hanging out in similar circles you are not taking potential business or opportunities away from anyone else, nor are you risking leading your own audience to Someone They'll Like Better; you're just offering more options, and the internet is VAST and endless, and EVENTUALLY people will show up who are into YOUR STUFF, SPECIFICALLY. helping each other is never going to stifle or delay that!!

and my final chunk of advice is the one i give constantly that everyone is probably super sick of hearing but i just seriously seriously believe in it, even tho i know it's slow to pay off and hard to follow: keep doing exactly what you want to. keep doing it!!! you have to!!! yes, i mean the stuff that's getting like, 2 likes and 0 reblogs! the stuff that 'nobody likes!'

earlier i mentioned i have gotten big follower bumps from like adhd comics and stuff like that going viral. the thing is that, from a professional standpoint: my follower count has like, more than quintupled from where it was at a few years ago; my patreon income has absolutely NOT quintupled lmfao. it has less than doubled, over that same period of like... i wanna say over 4 years. that's still good, i'm grateful for it, and i owe a lot of it to the sheer numbers game (the more ppl see ur work, the more likely it is you'll reach someone who decides to support you), but there is absolutely not an actual direct correlation between numbers and career success/stability.

where there IS a direct correlation is between "people who give a shit about the art i really truly love making" and "people who like my art enough to support me professionally." HUGE chunks of the followers i get any time something goes viral slough off over time; there's nothing wrong with that, they just follow me bc something was funny/interesting and end up realizing my work's not actually their thing. but the ppl who follow me bc they're into all the stuff i post most consistently, the stuff i care about and am passionate about, stick around. and i would not have found them if i wasn't posting the shit i care about!

out there there are people who will be 100% crazy about the stuff that is 100% what you want to make. it's like actually statistically impossible for there not to be. the more niche your thing is, the longer it will take to find them, but they absolutely exist. but if you give up before you find them -- if you start saying, "well, i'll put in 50% of this idea that i love, but the other 50% is too weird and nobody's gonna like it and it'll flop" -- well, in that case, you can only ever find the ppl who are 50% into what you do. don't fuck yourself like that!! you cannot deny yourself the possibility (the INEVITABILITY!!! IMO!!!!!) of finding the people who will 100% get what you're doing.

so: on a pragmatic level, i'm sure there will be ppl who disagree with me on this, and who think it's absolutely mandatory to do fanart as a crowd draw or learn about algorithms and posting times and get on tiktok and do the visibility grind and everything and that it's stupid and irresponsible to tell people not to. i'm sure it's also easy to point out that i'm speaking from a place where i now have more eyes on my stuff than i know what to fucking do with so maybe i'm just totally out of touch and being naive or something. but for me the most important part of doing art now, ESPECIALLY as a career, is to keep loving it and to believe in what i'm doing and to build an audience that cares about the same things i do. and i think it is really really vital to make that your top priority. bc if you don't, then even if you DO crack the code to suddenly getting tons of notes on everything etc -- will you even keep wanting to do it?

this job is hard. it's lonely, in my experience; i spend so much time sitting in front of my computer alone. it's unstable, which is stressful and can be frightening. it's emotionally taxing, for me, because art is so important to me that it's hard to set boundaries and separate my identity from it and actually treat it like a job. it has taken me a long time to find success doing this; maybe i could have gotten there faster if i had tried to find ways to draw an audience specifically, but i think if i had somehow managed to get a big patreon following/tons of commissioners/etc by doing something formulaic or doing stuff that specifically gets tons of attention, but isn't what's natural for me -- i don't think i would have lasted very long that way. this is already hard and complicated enough; i don't think it's sustainable to give up any unnecessary ground on doing exactly what you're passionate about, bc at least in my case, that's mandatory for this even being a livable career for me. i would burn out and decide to do something else very quickly if the only way to succeed was to chase numbers/engagement.

doing it this way is very slow. if i hadn't been able to lean on family/my wife while starting up, i would have had to have a day job for much longer (like, years, probably) while saving up and preparing to go full time; for as long as you struggle to get traction, it may mean going full time has to be on the backburner. but the thing is that there's nothing wrong with that, it's the reality for the vast majority of us (from what i've seen) -- and you'll eventually build a career that can last way longer, i think.

okay oh my god i'm done. sorry about that. like i said this job is pretty lonely and i sit here all day and think about this stuff and then generally do not talk about it with anyone until somebody asks me about it and then i repeat myself at length again. like i did here. anyway have a good night sincerely and i hope some part of this was helpful!!!

#long post

[animeniacss]

Seoksoo - (im)perfect Part 1 - Chapter 1

Synopsis: Lee Seokmin likes a lot of things: karaoke, stuffed animals, his friends, his family (when they're not at each other's throats), and when things go according to plan. It's perfect that way. That is...until Joshua Hong, the Education Department TA, stumbles into his view one day and suddenly Seokmin has to start facing the fact that maybe not everything in life will be perfect...but with Joshua, that might just be ok.

Tags: College!AU, ActingMajor!Seokmin, Teacher!Joshua, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Side GyuCheol, Side JunHao, Side Verkwan, Other Idol appearances, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Domestic Violence (not between the main couple), Joshua is a dork 90% of the time, (More Tags will be Added as needed)

Length: approx. 5k words

Chapter 1

Most people have a balance of things they like or don’t. Not Seokmin. Seokmin likes a lot of things. Seokmin likes going to karaoke after a long week of testing at school. Seokmin likes singing his lungs out to whatever power ballad he comes across within the confined and padded room, performing for the three or four friends he got to tag along with as if he were making his singing debut. Seokmin liked watching television, cartoons, and funny anime that made him laugh until his sides felt they would burst open. Seokmin likes seeing his friends laugh along with him even if the jokes aren’t that funny. Yes, Seokmin likes a lot of things.

         Seokmin likes the feeling of the cool breeze at the tail end of fall, hence why he found himself parked right on the first bench he saw as he strolled out of the last class of the day. With his backpack beside him, Seokmin leaned back and watched as the rest of the campus moved on around him. He liked people watching too; liked seeing people find comfort in the bubble of their friends or lovers, giggling as they strolled through the familiar paths of the university. He liked hearing the monotonous whoosh of the building doors opening and closing in a familiar routine. He liked it because it was familiar; he could plan for the familiar. 

         Seokmin leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he flipped his phone from his back pocket and into his hands. It was just barely 3:30, he had the entire afternoon and evening to himself. What should he do? There were many things he wanted to do. Unlocking his phone enabled him to see all of his apps, neatly placed in boxes depending on their use. ‘Entertainment’, ‘Social Media’, ‘School Work’, and ‘Finances’ all of it was organized. All of it was familiar, and that was what Seokmin liked. Lazy fingers scrolled through the options. His Twitter icon held onto a bright red bubble with ‘13’ inside, and Seokmin chuckled, clicking it open and skimming the frantic tweeting of his friends as they discussed back and forth about something he had no interest in. Leaving one like to show some support, he closed out the app and was finally rid of the pesky red bubble.

         “Spacing out again?” A gentle voice with a hint of playfulness alerted Seokmin to look up. He glanced over to see a head of brunette fluff plop beside him, two honey-bun cheeks grinning. Legs in denim jeans crossed at the ankles, and Seokmin only offered a half smile.

         “No, not this time.” He said. “Just finished class. You?”

         The brunette putting his head on Seokmin’s shoulder and letting out an exasperated sigh was enough to tell Seokmin of his feelings. “I have two-night classes on Thursdays.”

         “Ouch.”

         “Teaching is a bitch.” Seokmin snorted, his half-smile widening to one that took up his entire face. “I have a presentation on effective teaching strategies due tomorrow. I’ll be awake until my eyes bleed, Hyung.”

         “Awww, Kwannie. I’m sorry.” He patted his friend’s hair affectionately, hoping to relieve some of his tension. “It will all be worth it when you become the best teacher in the country. Teaching the generations of tomorrow!” Seungkwan laughed a bit. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get home, okay?”

         A warm hum in reply made Seokmin’s smile soften, but not leave his face. Knowing Seungkwan was satisfied made Seokmin feel the same. “Thanks, Hyung. You’re the best.”

Seokmin likes – no – Seokmin adores his roommate, Boo Seungkwan. The duo met when Seungkwan lugged his bags into his dorm last year with his mom and three chattering older sisters, a flustered freshman rooming with the one sophomore at the time who offered out of all of those who were asked. 

“I’m thinking of grilled pork and some sides,” Seokmin said, and Seungkwan was practically salivating. “Sound good?”

“Delicious.” Seungkwan smiled, sitting back up. Arms stretched over his head, another groan escaping his lips. Seokmin noticed this one sounded more optimistic than the last; another thing Seokmin found he liked about Seungkwan. “I’ll be home around 7, I guess. By the time class lets out and I catch the bus-.”

“I’ll be sure to have it ready by then.” Seokmin patted his friend on the shoulder. “You should get going before you’re late to class.”

“What are your plans for the afternoon?” Seokmin shrugged, finally rising from his seat and slinging his bag over his shoulder.  

“I’m thinking maybe I’ll study in the library for a little while before I head home.” Seungkwan nodded, eyes sparkling. “I want to try and get as much work as I can done this week so I can focus on my lines.” 

“That’s right. The play is coming up. When do auditions start?”

“Next week.” Seokmin pulled the rolled-up paper from the side of his bag, unraveling it to show a beautifully decorated flyer. The bright colors and symbols were meant to attract new eyes to the play. “I still have a few more lines to get.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Seungkwan assured. “You always nail your auditions!”

Seokmin’s beaming smile fell to a half-one again. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink at the compliment. “You think?” he asked.

“Of course! Must I remind you that I was the one who made a very detailed sign last year?” No, Seungkwan didn’t. Nobody would forget the gaudy thing, made with makeshift items one would find at the local craft store and glued onto a large piece of paper that Seungkwan waved from the back of the theatre like one of those leaf fans used to cool down an ancient emperor.

“I dunno. I’m kind of nervous this time.”

“Then go run lines to yourself like the loveable weirdo you are, and I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Oh, haha.” Seokmin frowned, though he couldn’t stay mad at Seungkwan’s playful smile. “Bye, Kwannie.” Seokmin waved his friend off down the path, the education building nestled nicely between the theater building Seokmin just left and the science building. Seokmin watched until Seungkwan turned up the steps, eyes seeming to beam as a few friends waved him over. Seokmin watched as they latched onto him, the group chatting as they disappeared behind a turned corner.

Seokmin liked that his friends had friends. When his friends had friends, it meant Seokmin was simply that: another friend. 

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         The library was usually bustling right after the last set of afternoon classes ended, and Seokmin made his way in, bag at his side and headphones pressed into his ears. He liked the smell of the library, always a sweet scent like vanilla or cinnamon that made one feel they were in a bakery, more than in a library full of old books. Seokmin didn’t mind though. Setting the bag down, he pulled out a laptop, turned it on, and watched the blue light assault his eyes so hard he had to squint for a second. Careful fingers glided along the mouse pad, opening up a half-completed essay on a modern play and how it compared to the original. Seokmin chose Mama Mia! because, of course, he did. He’d seen the American movie millions of times with his sister and mother, and the play in Gangnam just as many times. He could write this essay in his sleep….so why was it only halfway done? Seokmin took a few silent minutes to skim through what he had already written, comparisons of Sophie’s musical portrayal compared to that of American actress Amanda Seyfried being the bulk of the first page. Seokmin pursed his lips together, eyes scanning line by line until he reached the end of the essay. Two out of four pages were completed. And it was due by tomorrow.. Seokmin leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

         Seokmin liked studying the lines of plays more than he liked writing about plays, so when he ended up with the script in his hand for the upcoming school musical, XCalibur, a story of King Arthur, he wasn't surprised. Seokmin had read the story in school because what angsty teenager didn’t, and he loved the idea of challenging himself with the role of the lead. Flipping through the script, he scanned the blue-highlighted lines. Beside each chunk of Arthur’s lines, he scribbled a few notes and ideas for how he wanted to portray himself. Or, well, how the director would want him to be portrayed. His lips quietly mouthed the lines, nose scrunching when Arthur was disgusted and eyes widening when he was shocked. When someone at the next table coughed, Seokmin froze, his lips stopping mid-lip-synced sentence. His head turned towards the sound, locking eyes with a blonde girl whose hair was tugged into two tight braids. Her glasses that sat atop her nose were pushed up just slightly, allowing Seokmin to briefly catch her eyes, which studied him. He could feel his eyebrows raised as he sat frozen in a stunned expression, lips parted slightly. The sight of this girl glaring daggers into him for a mere second was enough to get him to turn back to the script, face completely resetting back to normal. Was she sick? Why was she in the library if she was sick, though? That’s not very sanitary…Seokmin felt panic bubble in his chest. Seokmin flipped his script closed and shoved it in his bag. 

He would save running lines for home, less coming across like one of those ‘weirdos’ Seungkwan mentioned.

        If he wasn’t going to write his essay…or study his lines…what else could one do in the library? Read, of course. Seokmin traveled up the steps to the second level, immediately catching sight of different people huddled around tables and on computers as they attempted to get their work done. A few were lounging on big, comfy chairs and simply reading. He looked around for a minute, scanning the different options. Seokmin liked to read about romance. Seokmin liked romance, period. There was something about seeing the progression of two people who were once strangers coming together and forming a new timeline, one that intertwined with each other in ways they may or may not have imagined. 

         Eyes darted from top shelf to bottom, at the spines of various books hoping to stand out among the sea of other romance novels. Seokmin didn’t care; he’d read them all. Reaching up, Seokmin took hold of one that caught his eye. A deep red cover with the outline of two rings sitting on top of one another, supporting one another in what looked like an empty void otherwise. The title ‘P for perfect’ was written in English and Korean, as well as the author. Seokmin flipped through the pages for a second, taking in the few words and short blurbs that he could as pages whirred by his eyes, before tucking it under his arm and leaving a book-shaped hole in the shelf where he pulled it. Seokmin pursed his lips, studying the hole for a second before sliding all of the books down just a tad and closing it up. “There.” He whispered. That hole would have eventually led to books falling over due to the mere weight the others. Seokmin liked knowing they were secure. 

         As he walked down the aisle just a bit more, reaching a wide lounging area, he caught more individuals buried in their books to study, a similar sight regardless of where in the library he looked. He caught sight of one person in particular sitting at a seat alone, not studying but instead sitting beside a large stack of papers. Seokmin couldn’t explain why he wanted to stare – maybe he was a weirdo, and that’s why the girl from downstairs was looking at him funny – but he stood behind one of the walls of books and watched the male press the tip of a red pen to his lips. His brows were furrowed, deep in thought at whatever he was reading. His hair was just barely hiding Seokmin from seeing his side profile, light brown hair hanging in front of his face until a hand came up and tucked the strands behind his ear. He….was fucking gorgeous! A nose that fell to a perfect point, and wide eyes that seemed focused on the task before him. Lips covering the tip of that red pen protruded slightly, looking as if he were almost chewing down on the writing utensil.

Seokmin liked a lot of things….and this guy’s side profile was now one of them.  

Pen pressed to paper finally, allowing the man’s lips to press together once again as he scribbled away. Seokmin finally retreated when the male looked up, light brown locks swaying a bit. Seokmin couldn’t see, but it seemed someone else was calling for him. Waving his head in acknowledgment, Seokmin watched Brown-Locks stand up and stuff his papers in his bag before heading towards the figure he knew was blocked by the bookshelf before him. When the man was out of his sight, Seokmin stepped into view, his book held tightly to his chest.

I wonder if he saw me at all. Seokmin thought to himself, though he was unsure if he’d like that or not.

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         Seokmin liked to cook, but he was neither good nor bad at it. He knew basic recipes his mother taught him when he was younger and learned some new ones off the internet. Seungkwan helped sometimes, but Seokmin liked the sight of his friend’s eyes sparkling when he took the first bite of his food.

         “It’s delicious, Hyung.” Seungkwan always beams; thus Seokmin always finds himself pressed against the kitchen counter making sure that the rice finishes cooking at the same time that the pork finishes grilling. He doesn’t mind, though. Seungkwan has always made sure he was a good roommate. He has from the time they were in the dorms until this year when they decided to get one of the apartments just off campus in hopes of a little more freedom. The rent being pretty cheap, even without the discount they gave to students attending school nearby, meant it wasn’t the most spacious, but it had what two college students in their twenties who yearned for a bit more freedom required. A kitchen, two bedrooms, and their own little laundry space tucked neatly into the corner. What they saved by cheapening out on the rent they used to keep their pantry filled with snacks and goodies, the perfect spot that the duo found themselves graviating towards for a snack during those late night study sessions. It was their own permanent sleep over and Seokmin liked that. It was exactly what he needed.

         The clock read 6:15 when Seokmin next looked at it, and he looked down at the spread he had been preparing since he arrived home. Once dinner was done, and Seungkwan offered to do the dishes, Seokmin could sit on the couch with a snack and-.

         Bzzzzt. Bzzt.

         Seokmin peeled his eyes from the clock just long enough to feel the vibration of his phone from his back pocket. With a quick cleaning of his rice-covered hands, he flipped open his phone. Kwannie followed by a string of orange emoji appeared on his phone. Without missing a beat, Seokmin opened the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hey!” He beamed.

         “Ah, hey….” Immediately, Seokmin felt his smile falter and his other hand drop to his side. His stomach did a flip that made him want to hurl. “Seokmin-Hyung, listen. I don’t know if I’ll make it home for dinner after all.” 

         “O-oh.” Seokmin muttered.

         “I’m sorry. My friends invited me to the library to get the rest of this project done and I need all the help I can get. I think there are some books I need to get at the library, too.” Seungkwan sighed. “I’m so sorry.” Hearing Seungkwan’s amplified apology burned Seokmin’s ears, and he toyed with one of the loops in his jeans.

         “Sorry?” he asked. “Why are you sorry?” Seokmin looked down at the rice cooling down. “You need to finish your project, after all.”

         “Do you want to come back and join us for dinner? I’ll pay!”

         “No, no. Go have fun with your friends.” He assured. “I’ll save you some leftovers for tomorrow, that’s all.”

         “Are you sure?” his voice was soft, shaky, almost bordering embarrassed.

         “Sure,” Seokmin assured. “I can’t eat all of this by myself.” He giggled. “Go get your work done for your presentation. That’s…much more important.”

         Seungkwan must have caught Seokmin’s delay because he paused a second before replying. “Okay. Thank you, Hyung. I’m sorry it’s so last minute. I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

         “Make it up to me by getting an A, how about that.” Seokmin heard a breathy chuckle from his friend. “Just let me know when you’re headed home, yeah? And be safe.”

         “Right. I’ll see you later on tonight, then.” Seokmin hummed, quickly slapping his phone shut, and tossed it onto the couch behind him. He winced when he heard it bounce off the plush surface and onto the floor, the echo reverberating into the room.

“Shit….” He turned back to the meal before him, just barely done and ready to be served. Seokmin allowed the clinking of metal silverware and plates to fill the silence in the apartment as he fixed the settings on the table from two to one. Nestling into his seat, Seokmin looked down at the spread. “It’s for school…” He said to himself, picking up the bowl of rice. He reached his chopsticks forward for some grilled pork, mixing the two and sticking it into his mouth. He hoped if it was filled with food, it wouldn’t utter anything else. He had to finish his project. It’s understandable….

When Seokmin felt his eyes prick with tears, a sleeved arm came and caught them, pressing against his eyes so hard that for a second he saw stars. With a few deep breaths, he lowered his arm and stuck another bite of dinner in his mouth.

As he chewed, he knew the food was delicious. It was the same recipe he always used. However, the emptiness from across the little table in the kitchen made him question his cooking ability for a second.

Seokmin hated broken promises. But…maybe this wouldn’t have happened if the girl at the library didn’t think Seokmin looked like such a weirdo rehearsing lines. A domino effect it seems. 

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         Seokmin was sipping a glass of water, his new library book propped open as Seungkwan made his presence known. Seokmin turned his head as the brunette strolled in. Despite their red strain, most likely from hours of staring at a computer, Seungkwan’s eyes were beaming as he strolled in. It was as if he won the lottery. Seokmin checked the time: 11:00.

         “Hyung-.” Seungkwan beamed almost immediately when he saw Seokmin sitting there. “You’ll never guess what happened tonight.”

         Seeing Seungkwan’s excitement made Seokmin’s own smile form on his face, a chameleon blending in with his surroundings. He closed his book, making sure to mark the page for later. Seungkwan practically swan dove onto the couch, sitting with his legs crossed as he turned to his taller roommate. “What happened? Did you get your work done?”

         “Mhm.” Seungkwan seemed proud. “But that’s not all. Guess who ended up coming to the study group?” Seokmin cocked an eyebrow, silently prompting Seungkwan to share. “Chwe Hansol!”

         Immediately, Seokmin recalled the name. A boy in two of Seungkwan’s previous education classes. This one too, it seems. “Aaah.” A grin of intrigue broke on Seokmin’s face. “Really?”

         “Yeah. I didn’t think he was coming but apparently, he got invited last minute, too.” Seungkwan’s eyes sparkled, and Seokmin could have sworn he saw hearts forming in his friend’s pupils. “He was helping me with my translations for some of the articles. Did I tell you that he was born in New York?”

         “You did.” 

         “Yeah, so he speaks fluent English and has his Korean citizenship.” Seungkwan sighed, bliss filling his lungs and exhaling right into Seokmin’s face. “He’s just so cool.”

         “Oooo.” Seokmin smiled. “Is there perhaps a confession of love soon?”   

         “Whaaaaat? Hyung, no, no. I don’t know if he’s into that. He’s pretty to himself.” Seokmin smiled as his friend's cheeks grew redder and redder the more he talked. “I mean. I don’t know if he’s not not into guys like that. I didn’t ask.”

         “Well, there’s your problem.”

         “But I barely know him,” Seungkwan added. “I don't think that’s good first conversation talk. ‘Hey, you’re really cute. Are you gay?’” Seokmin nodded in acknowledgement. 

         “Fair point. No use running right out of the gate. But, now that you two have some kind of connection you should feel it out. Tonight is the first time you had an interaction with him outside of staring at him in class.” Seungkwan giggled shyly. “Just get to know him more and see if he’s something you want to spend time with, and not just…well, you know-.” Seokmin paused a second, lips tugged together as he figured out how to phrase the rest of his sentence.

         “…Fuck?” Seungkwan asked.

         “Yeah, I guess.” The duo laughed. “Just see what kind of guy he is and see if that matches what you’re looking for. If you don’t do that, then you’ll end up either screwing up royally, or heartbroken, or both.”

         “But I get nervous when I talk to him,” Seungkwan said. “Like tonight, he reached out and pointed to an English sentence to translate to me. He was this close-.” Seungkwan squeezed his thumb and pointer finger together until there was barely a centimeter between them. “I felt like I wanted to curl up and die. I don’t even think I spoke like an actual human in that moment.” 

         “You’ll get more comfortable. If he’s as cool as you say he is, then you’ll find your groove to talk to him. If not-.” Seokmin shrugged. “There’s plenty of others out there. You’re definitely someone to be sought after, no question.”   

         “Aww, thanks, Hyung.” Seungkwan sounded hopeful and relieved, which caused those feelings to parallel in Seokmin. “You’re always so good to talk to.”  

         “I try,” Seokmin confessed. “But it’ll all work out, so don’t stress much anymore. You should go to sleep if you have to give that presentation tomorrow.”

         “Oh, you’re right! I’m so tired.” Seungkwan sighed. “I don’t think I’ve done that much reading and studying in a while.” 

         “I’m sure. Want tea or something before you turn in?”

         “Nah. I’m okay.” Seungkwan smiled, his face now catching up with the rest of him as he yawned. “I’ll make breakfast tomorrow, okay?” he hummed. Seokmin’s smile dropped a bit, but not enough to make someone notice. Seungkwan’s eyes were half closed already, so he might not have. “Goodnight, Hyung.” He waved before retreating into his room, closing the door behind him.

         Seokmin rested against the back of the couch once more, setting his library book on his lap. He looked down at it, thumbing the cover. When he touched the picture of the rings, he pressed his thumb against it, as if somehow the cool metal would rip through the cover and press into his hand. No luck, his thumb just turned a bit white and he lifted it back up, allowing the blood to flow back to the digit. It was past 11, most likely almost 12, and Seokmin knew he too had to head to bed. Rising from his spot, he set his book on the end table and headed into his own room.

         Seokmin’s Wicked poster loomed over his bed as if it were watching over his most prized possessions as they sat comfortably on his mattress. Plushies. Seokmin. Loved. Plushies. He closed the door behind him, and it felt as if his little squishy friends greeted him, all with warm smiles to see him return after a long day. None of them thought he was a weirdo, and if they did, they couldn’t talk so they could never say so.

         Seokmin crawled under the covers of his blanket, shuffling the few plush toys to either the headboard or the footrest, while others simply scattered around his bed. He hummed, nestling his head into his pillow and looking over at his newly acquired stuffed ravioli plush. Seungkwan and he found it during their most recent outing, and Seokmin almost flew out of his shoes when he saw the little guy staring at him from the window of a nearby shop. The smile on his face hurt long after he gave the confused and possibly concerned older woman his credit card and carried the ravioli plush out the door absolutely beaming the whole way to the car. 

         Seokmin knew tomorrow he had a lot of stuff to do, such as finish his essay on Mama Mia!, and get those last few chunks of blue highlighted lines memorized before his audition. He also knew that tomorrow’s breakfast would be taken care of, and waiting for him in the morning.

         Will it be?

         Seokmin closed his eyes, his hand secured around his little ravioli pal as he slowly began drifting off to sleep.

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         “You know, maybe if you weren’t such a crazy fucking bitch, we wouldn’t be here right now!”

         “Oh, fuck you! You always find some way to try and blame this on me. Do you fucking hear yourself right now?!

         “All I hear is you yapping away like you always do!”

         enough…

         “You literally don’t even care about me, or this family, or anyone! You only care about yourself and what’s at the end of a fucking bottle! Do we mean nothing to you?!”

         “Keep fucking running your mouth. Keep doing it, Lord knows you love to hear yourself talk!”

         stop…

         “Someone has to keep talking or else all you’ll hear in that little head of yours is your fucking mind!”

         please….

         The sound of a loud banging made Seokmin’s eyes fly open, and he immediately sat up in bed. The force of his movements sent all of his plush toys flying onto the floor, except for the ravioli plush that he kept in a fucking vice grip. It took a second for Seokmin’s eyes to register where he was, silhouettes of his dresser and his end table looking like boxy ghosts until his brain assured him it was just furniture. His heart was pounding in his chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself to stop feeling like he was drowning in the deepest part of the sea, with cinder blocks wrapped around his ankles.

         Finally, his ears picked up something muffled from the other end of a very thin wall.

         “Get the fuck out of my sight!”

         “I’m not going anywhere. If it wasn’t for my paycheck, you’d be living on the fucking street and you know it!”

         Oh…..this again.

         Seokmin looked up at the wall as if it would allow him to see through it. The neighbors were fighting yet again. It was muffled, but their anger was as evident as ever. Seokmin could hear it clear as day, and he considered that a curse.

         Seokmin hated unexpected loud noises. He hated the sound of screams, and guttural anger from one person to the next. He hated the sound of banging on walls, the slamming of doors, and the breaking of expensive glass.

         “I’ll fucking leave and you’ll never see me or the kids ever again!”

         “Go then! Leave!”

         He hated the sound of empty threats because eventually they would not be so empty.

         Seokmin turned towards his end table – not a boxy ghost – and reached forward, pulling open the drawer and pulling out a white pair of headphones. There was a significantly tight knot in the middle that he couldn’t undo no matter how many times his long fingers desperately fumbled with it. His hands were trembling, which meant no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t get the headphone cord into the port on his phone. Each second that passed where this loudness entered his ears made his heart beat faster, and his adrenaline started pumping.

When he heard the sound of a muffled baby cry, Seokmin felt that familiar pricking sensation in the corner of his eyes. Finally, the adaptor connected with his phone, and he frantically pressed the white triangle that awaited him on his home screen. Within seconds, music flooded his ears and drowned out the fighting in the apartment over.

         Seokmin saw a light turn on in the living room, and a shadow travel past his door. Seungkwan was awake….he could handle it. He may be the younger of the two, but he always handled it.

         He was the one who could handle it.

         Seokmin fell back onto the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. His hand patted at his side for his ravioli plush, and when he connected with it, he squeezed it to his chest. Exhaling, Seokmin squeezed his eyes closed. He needed to go back to sleep….he couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he hoped that whatever it was, it was better than what was happening in real life. It was a 50/50 chance every time. A flip of a coin that had a smile on one side and a frown on the other.

         Seokmin knew the coin landed on the frowny face when behind his eyelids, a familiar girl with blonde braids shot daggers at him from her seat. Did she still think he was a weirdo? Did she think that in the first place?

         Go practice your lines in the library like the [redacted] weirdo you are.

         I probably did look like such a weirdo. He thought to himself, pressing his face into the back of his plush. He liked how soft it felt on his face, like a comforting one-sided hug.        

Seokmin liked a lot of things, but he hated so many more. 

Return to K-Pop Masterlist Previous / Next

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen angst #kyeomshua #kyeomshu #seoksoo #lee seokmin x joshua hong #joshua x seokmin #kpop fanfiction #lee seokmin #doyeom #joshua hong #hong jisoo #seungkwan #vernon hansol chwe #mingyu #seungcheol #junhui #jun

[chronically-enthusiastic]

Hello there, thanks for stumbling across my blog!

(Here's a lil comic I made for a school assignment)

I'm going to start putting my social energy levels in my bio... There's a lot of stuff I want to respond to but i currently dont have the energy to do so, and so if I don't respond within like a day, check my bio and see that... I always feel bad about being on tumblr when theres things people have sent me but responding to those things is a different level of interaction than reblogging a post... so yeah... Sorry to the people i havent responded to yet! I will soon <333 (writing this on low energy, sorry for the incoherence)

Who am I / Where else can you find me?

First of all, feel free to call me Eli!! I'm on the waiting list for an autism diagnosis. I am agender and aroace-spec.

I am verrryyy enthusiastic about the things I am interested in (hence the URL hehehe). And currently, those are: podcasts (theres a list at the bottom of the post), good omens, ofmd, bbc merlin, star trek!!!!, lotr, and probably more things that I am too tired to think of right now!

I am a very big fan of the oxford comma and double brackets. Semicolons are pretty cool too. And ellipses are incredible.

i love all of my mutuals dearly!! Making cookies and hot chocolate for you all <33

I try to use tone tags as much as possible!

Boundaries:

Things I am okay with sharing/doing:

My age, gender/sexuality, things about my guinea pigs!!, and most other things

Things I am not okay with sharing/doing:

The city I live in, pictures of me/anyone I know, my full name, my birthdate, my phone number/email address, meeting up with people irl, sending/receiving money/gifts, dms (<- though if we're mutuals and interacted a lot dms are fine!!)

^ this applies to everyone im not in the discord with

I will let someone know if they cross boundaries, and *really* would like other people to let me know if I cross theirs!!

DNI: people who are here to spread hate and anger. Just, stay away. I dont engage in discourse. I know DNIs dont deterr these people, but this is a demonstration of my core values :)

Updated to clarify - I do block the generic tags such as Israel and Gaza, which most of the posts are tagged with by the op, so if you forget its no big deal!!

Tags:

(At the top cause otherwise it will get lost) ALSO #tw body horror

I block quite a few tags but most notably #tw war and other ones to do with the war in israel/palestine. This is not because I don't care. I care so so so much about what is happening and I cry every time I see a post about it. It breaks my heart that such horrible things are happening. However, I really struggle with high empathy, and seeing a post about it can really affect me for a while, and I need tumblr to be a safe space away from the real world problems. If I follow you - please could you tag things to do with war. Thank you <3

A list of all the podcasts I listen to because y'know, its fun:

Fiction:

The Amelia Project

Wooden Overcoats

The Adventure Zone

Sherlock & Co

Alba Salix

Unseen

And a whole lot more that i no longer listen to either because they havent updated or they are a little too creepy (Welcome to Night Vale falls into the latter category)

Science:

The Sci Guys

Lets Learn Everything

Lingthusiasm

A podcast of unnecessary detail.

Comedy/other:

Dear Hank and John

The Unmade Podcast

Books Unbound

Lateral

A book list of recommendations from mutuals for my own use:

abigail by Magda Szasbo (@mack-anthology-mp3)

The Alphabet of Candice Phee (@jamie-dinow)

A list of music reccomendations from mutuals:

in the lap of the gods revisited by queen, why can't i be you by the cure, pyramid song, and lucky & the tourist by radiohead, when the sun hits by slowdive, dancing barefoot by patti smith, tangerine by led zeppelin, autumn sweater by yo la tengo, rubber ring by the smiths, water by pj harvey (from @/mack-anthology-mp3)

imi hendrix’s all along the watchtower (from @/catholickedd)

#pinned post #eli has a thought

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

//vent, sorry, I've wanted to get this out of my chest for a while now.

suspected/questioning npd and aspd + bpd culture is wanting to become mutuals with a person you idolize, they're just so so cool and they even became one of your fps! You really want their attention and you really want to become friends with them, so you tag them in a post, asking them to become friends/mutuals with you. (in which they were nice enough to do so)

On the first hand, you were so fucking happy, like HELL YEAHHHHH IM NOW MUTUALS WITH THEM FUCK YESSSSSSSSSS I CAN LIVE IN PEACE NOWWW WOOHOOOOOO happy, I mean, who wouldn't be happy about it?

On the other hand, you feel so guilty, mad, annoyed, and disgusted of yourself because it felt so fucking demanding, they were nice enough to do it and they'll basically have to deal with a disgusting and humiliating person like you 24/7 who can't even fucking live without a tiny bit of reassurance, feeling like we're “very close friends!!!” even though it's clear that we're NOT. I should've just asked them nicely in their dms, or maybe start slowly by interacting with them a little more and they might consider being friends with you INSTEAD OF DEMANDING IT TO THEM.

But why give a fuck about it, anyway? I'm friends/mutuals with them now, I get to talk to them, I get to share everything with them and a lot more! People who like them as well might see that post eitherway and will obviously get jealous of you like they definitely should be, because I'm friends with them while you're not because you're just a fucking peasant. But you still feel guilty about it anyways.

.

#npd culture is #npd + bpd culture is #npd + aspd culture is #npd + bpd + aspd culture is #npd #actually narcissistic #actually npd #narcissistic personality disorder #cluster b #bpd #borderline personality disorder #aspd #antisocial personality disorder

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

okay how about the ones you interact with/see in ur notes most

alright

Magnus (@magnuficentwo) - my good friend magnus my best friend magnus i have no clue how we even started following eachother (i forgor) but it reblogs my art and Understands me when i rant off abt random shit and draws cool thangs and has a store of concrete for chewing on whenever i write something cool . we talk a lot and its great. i love you magnus (platonic) also i want to kiss baltazar on the mouth btw

Lavos/Alto (@themanwhomadeamonster) - only warframe mutual as of now. we send eachother dumb shit (affectionate) all the time. not into borderlands but they still call me Wainlock which, tbh, hilarious and fitting. we often discuss more general topics too and its great :)

Ren (@jakobslock) - listen we don't really show up in eachothers notes that much but to not include Ren Jakobslock would be a sin on behalf of me. they were my Mentor in the ways of borderlands old man yaoi. they passed the torch of wainlockposter onto me and i have carried it since. they also are responsible for getting me into psychonauts. my good friend Ren Jakobslock may you live long and prosper

Coyote (@ghostlycoyote0) - on my blog i sometimes have a bit abt me being a monarch and my mutuals being my knights, advisors or squires. Coyote is some of my most loyal squires - not exactly a friend i talk to a crapton but one that certainly shows up in my notes a lot and dutifully likes and reblogs pretty much all my wainlock related posts. also often puts good peer reviewable tags on them, and when we do talk it's very enjoyable

Helios (@handsome-john) - scp mutual, house of leaves mutual, also understander of me being in the Borderlands Tranches and holder of similar controversial borderlands opinions to mine. banger writer to boot, if i could i would print out moldhouse and eat it. frequently we discuss Themes and Motifs in borderlands, and if you know anything abt that fandom you'd know that someone you can talk to abt the Themes and Motifs is exceptionally rare

Snowball (@snowballeclipse) - great artist, cult of the lamb mutual, passionate abt Gythian lore almost as much as i am. funky au haver, reblogger of my sillies

if you arent on this list im sorry i still appreciate you

#fourth wall mail slot #Anonymous

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter X: It’s All Hate And Money

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | chapter ix

summary: an idea is proposed by your label that you’re not sure you want to take part in, especially given the circumstances.

tags: hurt/no comfort but barely, angst, fake dating, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, these two are so stupid sometimes it hurts

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long and it’s still not very long, but it DID inspire me to keep going! also yeah, ofc i brought the angst back. bc that was the whole plot. just stupid ppl that cannot communicate right now bc they r afraid!!! also if any of my links are broken pls let me know, im trying to fix them but they decide to work half the time?? Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

——

July 1986

The breeze is refreshing, despite it blowing your hair into your face. Eddie sits next to you, hands behind his head as he lay in the sun. He’s showing off his tattoos, including the one he’d gotten from you last month, your initials in your handwriting scratched neatly above his hip. In front of you, Robin and Steve splash each other in the lake, both of them shrieking and laughing as the cool water hits their faces. Your heart is full, spending the weekend at Steve’s parents’ unused lake house with your closest friends. Nancy and Jonathan arrive tomorrow, and the five of you have plans to roast marshmallows and sing songs like in all those cheesy horror movies. You could do this every day for the rest of your life, and be perfectly happy. You know Eddie doesn’t feel that way, he gets restless in places so still, and you have this deep, irrational fear that his urge to keep moving will end up being your downfall. But right now, that’s a non-problem. You return to your book, The Harlequin’s Son, as Eddie cranks the boombox up another few notches to blast Beach Boys Surfin USA.

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie! Is Sweetheart about Y/n?” “Was Pretty Boy written about you?” “How long have you and Y/n been together?” “Eddie, where’s Y/n?” The questions are hurled at him by fans and journalists alike as he enters the venue, cameras flashing in his face as Steve tries to shield him.

“We have no comment at this time, thank you! Bye!” Steve shoos the mob as well as he can manage, holding his hand out in front of photographers. Eddie keeps his head down, saying nothing as the door swings open for him and his band.

“Hey, they’ll let it go, it’s just fresh right now.” Steve reassured him, a comforting hand landing on his shoulder.

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” He looks around, every backstage of every venue looks the same to him, but you’re in the wings, lugging your guitar and amp to the stage as crew members set up pedal boards and wires. You look up then, and offer Eddie the smallest of smiles that he returns with a shy wave.

“I’m sure Y/n is fine, too.”

“You haven’t talked to them?”

“I’ve been busy with your temperamental ass!” Steve jokes, nudging him. “Besides, they’re a lot stronger than you think.”

“Hey. I know that. You think I don’t know that? We were together for like, four years. That isn’t my point.” It’s his turn to be defensive. He’s never doubted your strength, it’s your temper he’s concerned with. You’re not one to shy away from chewing someone out for a wrong assumption.

He looks from Steve back to you, watching as you chat with a crew member about something. You’re in plain jeans and a tight black t-shirt, your hair tied on top of your head haphazardly.

He feels a second nudge. “Stare more, would ya?” Robin’s appeared on Eddie’s other side.

“Who’s staring? I’m not staring.”

“And I’m not a lesbian. Try to blink, you’ll look less obvious.” Her smirk makes his eye twitch. “Or, y’know. You could just go say hi. Like friends do.”

“Seriously? You’re giving me shit about this too?” Eddie groans, craning his neck to the ceiling in irritation.

“Of course I am! If you guys are gonna do this dance the whole time we’re touring, I'm gonna get my jokes in!” This causes Steve to snicker.

“Listen, I’m only gonna say this once. Y/n and I are adults. You two are being so immature about this. There is absolutely nothing else between us, okay? Nothing.” Steve and Robin exchange a look, and begin to giggle again. “Cut it out!” Eddie whines, then startles when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find you, sparkly eyed with a tight smile on your lips.

“We need to talk.”

—

Your POV

You don’t mention what you’d heard from Eddie’s lips, but you feel your heart sting a little. Nothing else between us? Bullshit. But now isn’t the time to call him out on it.

“What’s up?” Eddie leans against the doorframe of the dressing room, arms crossed casually.

“I just got a call from my label. They, uh, saw the magazine article.” You keep your voice low, not wanting to alert your gaggle of friends hanging out inside the dressing room. “They want us to play into it.”

“Play into it?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow teasingly. You’re sure he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he wants to hear you say it.

You groan. “They want us to be seen together more, out in public. Hold hands and shit.”

“They want us to date for publicity?”

You shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Do you want that?” He sounds sincere, even concerned.

“I don’t know if I have that choice.”

Eddie straightens his posture. “You always have a choice. It’s your life, regardless of what your label wants you to do.”

You sigh. He means well, you know that, but it would be so much more added stress to fight with executives while on tour. “Well, what do you think?”

“You know I’m always down to play tricks on the public,” he laughs, “and if you don’t mind being around me all the time, I’ll definitely do it.” You can’t get a read on him. If he doesn’t have feelings for you, why would he want to pretend?

“Okay. Then let’s play some tricks, yeah?” You offer your hand, and he stares. “You’re supposed to shake it.”

He blinks his stare away, and grasps your right hand in his. “Let’s do it.” He nods, and you can’t help but smile.

—

Your anxiety is skyrocketing tonight. With the added weight of this dating scheme, you barely have the mental capacity to make it through soundcheck.

“Are you okay?” Robin approaches you when you fumble the chords to Pretty Boy again, wincing as you sing the lyrics you’d written so many years ago.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Steve.” You’re whispering, even though you really don’t care if your bandmates find out. But Steve will try to protect you, probably going as far as making a scene in front of the label execs if he deemed necessary, and that was way too much to deal with right now.

“Consider my lips locked.” Robin makes a point of zipping her lips, locking them, and tossing the imaginary key behind her shoulder. You fill her in on your plan, not mentioning your nerves or feelings the entire time.

“And you think this is a good idea?” She asks when you’ve finished your rant. She’s not saying it to bite, she genuinely seems worried for you.

You shrug. “Probably not, but DDA is still new, we could get kicked off the label if we object to them this early. And they talked to CC’s agent already, so we pretty much have to do it.”

“But, what if you get the feelies again? Or worse, what if you don’t get the feelies, and now you’re lying to the world and to yourself?”

“First of all, feelies, Robin? Are we twelve? And secondly, I know. I'm screwed either way. Eddie already said he didn’t have feelings for me, so it’s not like-“

Robin interrupts you, waving her hand frantically. “When did he say that?”

“I overheard him talking to you and Steve earlier. ‘There is nothing else between us. Nothing.’.” You mimic Eddie’s gruff voice as you quote him, warning a chuckle from your bassist.

“You know that’s like, total bullshit, right?”

“No, I don’t! I can’t figure him out anymore, and frankly I don’t see why I have to.”

Robin pinches between her eyes like a disappointed mother. “You don’t. But you should figure your own shit out. Might be healing.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. This could totally be my undoing, I am very aware. But this could also be the push I need to make a decision. Either I’m over him, or I’m not.”

Robin pats your shoulder lovingly. “Okay, babes. Whatever you want. But maybe stop thinking about it until after we rock the shit out of this place, okay?”

You nod, finding the first chord again, and playing it perfectly. “Right. Let’s do this shit.”

—

Eddie’s POV

He taps his foot along anxiously with the house music, currently Blind Melon’s Tones of Home. His pen bounces up and down frantically in his hand, tapping against his frayed leather bound journal. A melody has been stuck in his head all day, but he can’t bring the words to match it. He’s about to throw in the towel when he feels another presence in the room.

He glances up, and his eyes meet with yours in the mirror. He whips his head around, startled by your stealth. “Hey, sw- hey, you.” He chuckles, feeling his cheeks heat up at the slip up. “Sorry, practicing.”

You shake your head, a small smile on your lips. “Hey. I wanted to be the one to tell you, there’s a lot of press here tonight. I heard Rolling Stone might try talking to you.” Your voice shakes slightly as you deliver the information.

Eddie is far too used to the overwhelming amount of public attention that comes with being a successful musician. It’s something he can’t stand, and you know that well. Nosy reporters were a huge reason he didn’t like when you would go on tour with him when the two of you actually were together. He was insistent on you not being seen with him, because he didn’t want them twisting your image. It was a selfish thing, Eddie realizes now. You are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but Eddie didn’t want to share you with the world. You were his to protect, and only his to be in love with.

But the world is falling in love with you now, for something you had created without him, and he feels all the pride for you in the world. Every day he wishes he’d been more supportive. Maybe this is his second chance?

“Thank you for the warning.” Eddie answers after a beat too long. You nod your head once, and pivot to leave the room when Eddie hears himself call, “Wait!” You turn to him again, waiting for him to continue. “You, uh, you think you could help me with something?” Eddie’s shy again, suddenly, like he’s back in high school asking you to go to prom with him. And he wasn’t even shy when he asked you to prom.

“Sure, what is it?” You walk deeper into the room, and Eddie moves aside to make room at the small vanity mirror. He slides his open journal toward you, where the page is littered in words crossed out, rewritten, and crossed out again. He snatches his guitar from where it leans against the wall, throwing it over his lap in a swift motion, despite the tight space.

“I have had this thing, this melody stuck in my head all day, and I either need to know if I came up with it, or if I’m remembering it from somewhere.”

He finds the first notes, fingering the strings expertly to a twinkling melody.

—

Your POV

You are really trying to focus on the song he’s playing. It does sound familiar to you, but you can only hear it like this, unfinished and on the fly. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, really focusing on the way the song flows together, trying to put words to it that escape you.

Until you figure it out. Your eyes fly open, wide as the memory comes back to you with full force. “Oh my god.” You throw a hand over your mouth.

Eddie stops suddenly, and looks back to you in the mirror. “Shit, is this someone else’s song? I thought I had something really fuckin’ good here!”

“No, no. Well, yes and no.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at your confusing response. “It, uh. That’s the song we wrote together. Like, right after graduation, when we went to Steve’s lake house. You played it on that really gross acoustic guitar that was in the garage, the one we found when we were—“ You don’t finish the sentence, knowing the raunchy turn the story takes. “Anyway, we started fuckin’ around with it, ‘member? And you came up with that—“ you point lazily to his guitar still in his lap, “but we never put words to it, we kinda just forgot. That is insane.”

—

Eddie’s POV

The memory washes over him, like a tidal wave pulling him under. You’d had the guitar in your lap, strumming lazy chords as you tuned the old, barely usable guitar that had belonged to Steve’s mother in another life. He remembers how hot that day had been, a record breaking heatwave baking the entirety of the midwest. Your hair was piled high on your head to keep it off your sticky skin, glimmering with perspiration. You wore only a bikini top and shorts, feet bare and dirty with the mud of the backyard. He’d stolen the guitar from you, plucking the same chords he’d just been playing, You’d started humming, then eventually singing, to his music, a soft smile on your face as your eyes closed, focusing on the way the two sounded together. He remembers everything else about that night, too, from the clumsy sex in the shed to the bonfire surrounded by his favorite people.

He finally turns around, his head purposefully craned up to avoid being eye level with your chest. The space between you two is small, and he feels his heart rate quicken. “Oh, shit.” Is all he says, being rendered speechless by the discovery.

“No, I mean, it’s okay! It’s such a pretty tune it’d be a shame if one of us didn’t use it. You should!” He can’t help but hear the slight disappointment in your voice, like you feel something was taken from you, by him. The idea comes almost as quickly as the memory had. “What if we just, put the song out?”

You place a hand on your hip. “What, like as a duet?”

Eddie nods, feeling the hope take hold in his chest. “Yeah! Yeah, we could write it, record it when we stop in New York maybe, or even after the tour if you want. And the suits would eat it up, too. Especially with this whole thing we got goin’ on,” He gestures to the space between your bodies.

“Oh. So this would be like, a money grab for you?” The hurt is clear in your wavering voice, and Eddie’s smile is wiped from his face.

“No, of course not.”

“No, right, but it’s a nice little extra. Have your cake and eat it too, right?” Wrong. So wrong, but what is Eddie supposed to do? Now is not the time to be confessing that he’s still completely enamored with you, head over heels in love. It’s so unfair to you, to both of you, to put that out there right this second.

“I mean, if you wanna look at it like that, yeah. The extra money would be nice. But it would also be cool just to work with you again. For real this time, as friends.” He’s praying it’s a good enough save.

You shrug. “We can try, but I’m not confident in our ability to work together.” There’s a bite to your words, and Eddie winces. “But I gotta go, we’re on in an hour.” You turn, and leave the room with an extra sense of urgency.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie puts his guitar down, and throws his head into his hands.

—

Your POV

You angrily wipe the tear that’s escaped from your tear duct, annoyed with your own sensitivity. You’re absolutely overreacting, but the pain in your throat threatens to suffocate you if you don’t immediately do something about it.

And so, with nothing else running through your mind besides Eddie, the memories of him contrasting deeply with who he’s become, you stomp past your bandmates as they put the finishing touches on their makeup and hair, you slam the bathroom door behind you. You’d swiped the scissors from Harley months ago, and keep them in your toiletries bag for things like this. You grab a fistful of your hair and chop, not stopping to measure the length. You repeat the ritual on the other side, and again across the front of your face. When you’re finished, your hair looks like you lost a bet, your eyes are puffy from crying, and a string of snot has fallen down your face. You wipe it with your sleeve, and quickly change into the outfit hanging up on the towel rack: black sheer tights and a baby pink lingerie nightgown you’d thrifted in Montreal. You throw your leather jacket over it, do your makeup haphazardly as you hold the rest of your tears in, and apply an excessive amount of deodorant. You step out of the bathroom, and are immediately met with the horrified looks of your friends.

“What did you do?!” Sylvie throws their hands over their mouth in shock, and Lilith’s jaw unhinges as she gasps.

You shrug. “Needed a change. Now let’s rock the shit out of this place, huh?”

Your bandmates move to leave the room, not about to engage with your suddenly erratic behavior. You’re grateful for their silence, knowing you probably look ridiculous. This will give the press something else to talk about.

The noise of the crowd grows louder as you approach the wing. “Alright guys, go out there and-“ Steve cuts himself off as his eyes scan over you. “What the hell happened?”

Robin is quick to speak. “They’re fine. Don’t worry about this right now.”

“Right, but there are so many cameras out there, and I-“

“Steve!” Robin interrupts, shaking her head. “Not. Right. Now.”

Steve surrenders, lips tight. “Okay. Right. Go kick some ass!” He hugs each of your bandmates before they go on stage. When he gets to you, he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, and pulls back when he discovers you’re shaking. “Are you alright?”

“Later.” You say shortly. More words about the subject will make you cry again. “I promise.”

“Okay. I love you. Do your thing.” He brings you into his hug, and you relish in your best friend’s warmth for a few seconds too long. The crowd is losing their minds.

“Okay, I gotta go.” And he lets you go. You walk onstage, and are blinded by the stage lights. The crowd never falters, even after seeing your new abomination of a haircut that Harley will surely kill you for later. Cameras flash from all corners of the room while fans whoop and holler for your band.

“What the fuck is up, Portland?!” You scream into the mic, and the answer is thousands of screams in your direction. “I just cut my hair in the bathroom, let’s fuckin’ party!” Lilith clicks her sticks together to count you off, and you launch into the first song of your set.

—

chapter xi

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @ghost-proofbaby @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!reader #fundamental differing #new kid fic #slow burn #hurt/no comfort #mutual pining #mutual heart break #st4 #strangerthingscentral #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #90s au

[aceing-on-the-cake]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 🌈 🌈 ← I'm actually deciding it's negotiable, send it to whoever you want!!

(I cant remember if i sent this back to you yet or not. /gen If you have two now, im sorry 😅)

Oh no, you don't know what you've done, I have to come up with five more things 😅

(you guys really just decided therapy was today for me lol)

1) I am asexual, arospec, and polyamorous. I think this is incredibly cool not because I think those are better than other orientations but because this gives me a lot of different experiences from other people and lets me show different perspectives they might not otherwise have.

2) I think have pretty fucking awesome music taste.

3) I've been avoiding physical traits but I'm gonna take one from your book and point out my freckles. They run across my shoulders really dark and down my arms, especially my left since I drive all the time, and I think they're adorable.

4) I have like really good fashion sense. I say that because it's a skill I've worked on a lot. I didn't always know how to make clothes look nice on me and it was something I cared about enough to learn and so I did, and while unconventional, I think I have a really good style.

5) I have a lot of incredibly amazing friends. This sounds like it's not a quality about me but I think it is, because honestly I think all my mutuals are amazing people (if you're one of my mutuals and you think "are they talking about me?" The answer is yes. I'm not gonna tag you all, but I'm thinking of you all, and that includes you Rose my partner in booping and general tomfoolery) and so if you all enjoy my company, then that's a compliment in and of itself.

Thank you for thinking of me 🥰 curse you for making me go to therapy again lol

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

HEYO sorry if this is weird but i wanted to do this!!!!

Ummm I believe you were one of my first mutuals after I made an account, and i'm not gonna lie I FREAKED OUT when you followed me back. I absolutely fell in love with the rob aeor au- like I read it and was like "holy shit this SLAPS" and it was rotating in my brain for AWHILE. I thought you were such a cool writer and such a cool person and could absolutely not fathom why you followed me!

Honestly still can't- I love your writing and I love seeing your little icon and url on my dash.

I don't know much about the Magnus Archives or Hazbin Hotel, but it's fun to see how much you love those them!!

you're one of my favorite mutuals because I think you're cool and fun and I love your writing and it's a lot of fun talking thru asks or tags kjhugytfrdcfvgbh

BUUUHAHKLSDFJEISPD........ AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUHTHHGGGGGGHHH

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

HTANK YOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! mate!! that's so crazy that you were so freaked out by me following u back cos at that time i had like. 50 followers *tops*, i was not a big blog AT ALL ;; still aren't really lol- but i did it bc you were rebloggingg all my writing and saying nice things and leavinfg that ao3 comment that said "i really enjoyed this story over on tumblr so im glad you're uploading over hear" and fuck it you seemed cool when i went thru ur blog!!!!!! so i followed >:D

tma and hazbin are- (breathes in deeply) OKAY i am so hyperfixated on hazbin i've watched the show three and a half times now you have No Clue bro i love it so much......... sdkkfhhh.....

YOU ARE ALSO ONE OF MY FAVE MUTUALS :D seeing u in my notifs always makes me go "YIPPEE SHRIMPLYYY"!!! its great :D

#question spirals #ask game

[milkteaarttime]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~)🤭No pressure

Ooh im on mobile so Idk how to do the fancy lists and coloured text quite yet but ummmm

1. I really like my hairstyle. Its a shaggy mullet i cut myself and I have a middle part! Took a while to figure it out

2. Probably my fashion style? Im a huge tomboy so I think I look great in hoodies and street wear! And Hoodies are one of my comfort special interest kinda item. I cant wear other clothes bc i like having the hood rest on my neck and I feel odd without it.

3. Im really friendly and empathetic towards people. It’s one of my strong suits my entire life i think. I am a very open minded person. Im chill af :D

4. I love my language abilities, I am a Chinese immigrant in Canada and Im lucky to have preserved my language abilities. I speak English, Mandarin, some Cantonese, and some Japanese. I do hope to learn some Spanish(Mexican Spanish or South American Spanish) and European languages like German, and maybe even Russian and Ukrainian. The more languages the better lol.

5. I like that I have lots of Hobbies! I cook and bake, draw, sing, learning things and I am hoping to take up sewing with an actual machine soon. I want to make the ‘perfect’ hoodie for myself.

I don’t have Many ppl to tag so i will tag maybe 2 mutuals!

@keegansshark @cumikering @the-deer-temple (sorry if you guys have already been tagged!)