#♡Wyll'sWeek

[sorcerous-caress]

Yandere Wyll headcanons

[Soft yandere, Toxic protective Wyll, jealousy, possessiveness, nb!reader]

[Part of the Wyll's Week event]

Bedtime stories of love at first sight that his father used to tell him after tucking him in was something he thought he outgrow.

Yet on that day as he hopped down the grove's gate and faced the goblins, meeting your eyes amidst the battlefield felt like an arrow struck his heart.

A feeling he can't explain.

Wyll was hyperaware of your presence during the whole fight, of your safety. Casting a spell on the nearby goblin that might have taken you by suprise, completely ignoring the fact he was surrounded by a dozen of them himself.

In the aftermath, it almost hurt him to retreat back inside the grove, to leave you all alone out there.

He wanted to go and check on you, to ask your name at least.

But the tieflings urged him back, declaring him their hero as he smiled politely at the kids running up to him.

Please come back, he thought, please follow him.

It must be fate, and when you walked inside the grove and spoke to him, he was sure of it.

Your name sounded pleasent on his lips, and when you called him the blade of frontier he thought he might trip and make a fool of himself.

One thing led to another and he found himself back at your camp.

Much to his dismay, there were other tents placed Besides your own.

Even his reaction surprised him, why did his lungs burn at the idea of someone else staying near you as you slept? Why does his heart ache at the idea that he wasn't the first person you called back to camp.

The eventual meeting with the devil he was hunting ensures, and you're there by his side during it.

But you're looking at the devil with concerned eyes instead of disgust, you're lowering your weapon and asking if she's okay.

You ask for her name just like you asked for his.

Something ugly twists inside his stomach.

He takes over the conversation, steers it back to the purpose it once held before.

But you stop him, talk him out of it, and like any fool smitten in love, he can't refuse you.

Part of him is aware that he did the right thing, that your words rung true at the end, Karlach is no devil.

And as he pays the price for his change of heart that night, you still face him the next morning.

Still as handsome, you tell him.

You don't look at him with disgust, you don't prod at his horns and you don't avoid eye contact with his abyssal eye.

It really must be fate, for someone as kind hearted as you to cross paths with him.

He stays by your side that night, nods off to sleep with his head resting against your shoulder.

From that day on, he stays by your side and on your team.

Every attempt at getting him to go back to camp is met with refusal, you can only bring two other companions, the third will always be Wyll.

The world is too dangerous, the people are too greedy. He can't let someone take advantage of you, he can't let you out of his sight.

He shows off his power more in front of you, plays the heroic role with more flourish, targets the enemies that target you.

The other companions make a comment or two about how he seems to be inseparable from you, Wyll takes it in stride and plays it cool, yet never denies it.

Somehow each attempt they make at getting closer to you gets interrupted by some way or the other.

That time Gale attempts to share the weave with you, Scratch suddenly runs to you, your favourite boot in his mouth with chew marks and you completely lose focus and go after him.

That night Astarion invites you to the forest, it suddenly starts raining and it's too damp and muddy to do anything on the ground.

When Shadowheart called you to split a bottle, a cat jumps out of the bush and nearly makes her stumble off of the small cliff into the lake, both of you immediately make it back to camp.

As Wyll dismisses the familiar he summoned, he can't help but feel guilty and ashamed by his actions.

Just because he's not in a hurry to share his bed with you, doesn't mean that the other companions deserve it because they're easy.

Not to mention, you did promise him to dance with him eventually, did you not?

[sorcerous-caress]

This is so good and sweet ♡♡♡ million kudos

Happy Wyll's Week! Day 1/7

-Nice Trick (SFW): Inspired by in-game dialog of Wyll remembering Duke Stelmane. Him talking about his little boyish crush was so adorable, he’s just so cute! Coupled with a baseline desire for adoration, and you just know fancy tricks and smooth poetry were in his arsenal. He will get a smile out of you! (Centered around my Tav, Aiya. Elf-Dragon Sorceress)-

Even though it aches, Wyll likes to ruminate on his past.

Retrospect didn’t always bring pleasant memories. But he still spent time thinking about his life at home, despite how he was made to leave it.

His earliest memory is one of him tumbling behind his father; anywhere from three to five years old. Ulder had looked behind him briefly, smirking at the barefoot boy pitter-pattering behind him, before turning back around and greeting their usual courier walking toward their arched entryway.

He smirks to himself then, sorting supplies by his and Gale’s tents while the latter, Aiya, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart were out gathering resources.

He remembers when he first began sword training. It hadn’t been with Ulder, not that first day. It had been with Theya. She was a high ranked Fist, often at the Ravengard estate for conversations Ulder refused to have on base; someone Ulder considered a family friend. She was always kind with Wyll, despite being well aware of his very obvious and juvenile crush. But she always took the time to speak with him, recounting her latest excursions with the organization while omitting the details not polite for a child to hear.

And she had insisted on using wooden swords; never mind how he whined. He had been eager to go over slashing techniques, finally convincing her to go over those with him after he had surprisingly and successfully demonstrated proficiency with parrying. Ulder had not let Wyll handle weapons just yet, but Wyll had eyes. He had watched his father and other Fist members practice many of times on base. Baguettes were shorter, lighter, and probably not a proper substitute for swords, but his days of running off with two of them to practice had paid off when the time came.

She agreed to show him the most basic of slashing techniques, stepping him through the arch little by little. For what looked like a basic swinging move, there was certainly a lot to remember. His stance, his squat, his eyes. His face also, because being open and predictable in combat was a negative.

He felt excited after that session, raring to try with the real thing. But once again, Theya laughed and said no. But that had not stopped him.

That night, he had snuck outside to the shed armory and picked a sword. He remembers the lurch in his chest, knowing he was doing something forbidden, but not faltering.

He took to the dummy outside and began to go through the motions of what he learned that day, breathing labored breaths and smiling through it.

He wasn’t picturing the dummy as anything other than what it was; just a practice target. Rather, he was imagining impressing his father; showing him what he accomplished in a few hours. And he certainly liked the thought of impressing Theya just as much. With this, he attempted a flourishing move with the blade. He was going to flip the blade at the handle with his right hand, and catch it mid air with his left. He saw it done at a festival once. It couldn’t be that hard.

And as it goes, he failed to get a grip on the blade, fumbling it and inevitably slicing open his right palm in the flurry.

He cried out, stunned at the line of red that formed before blood seeped down his hand.

Needless to say, Ulder had not been pleased. He hadn’t chided him too bad, but he had let him know unsupervised training would not be tolerated; not until Wyll was older and more experienced.

“What is the rush, Wyll?” he asked, beginning to wrap the injured palm.

Ulder had set him on a study table in his bedroom when Wyll came walking in, voice shaking. He quickly grabbed medical supplies and began tending to the wound.

“I want to be good at it,” Wyll said, eyes trained to the floor instead of his father.

“And you will be,” Ulder assured, voice even and unperturbed. “But there is no need to rush. This was your first day.”

Wyll swallowed, finally looking up to meet his father’s eyes once his hand was tightly wrapped.

“I want you and Theya to see that I’m good at it.”

Ulder stared for a moment, before blinking slowly and smiling gently.

“We know you will be,” he answered, stepping back and gesturing for Wyll to hop down.

He walked Wyll back to his bedroom, which was down the hall and around the right corner, and stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed while Wyll climbed back under the covers.

“Sorry, father,” he finally offered, feeling scrutinized with the man looking down at him.

Ulder sighed. “You just need to be careful. You’re young. You have plenty of time.”

Back in the moment, Wyll was satisfied with how his supplies were stocked in a small trunk he used for his personal items. He smiled at the memory, turning his right palm over and noticing the thin, white line of the scar left over.

Newer scars along with calluses had layered the evidence of his desperation. But his father was right. As he got older, his dexterity improved. By thirteen, he was comfortable writing and holding weapons with both hands.

Ulder had even walked him through how to perform the move. Wyll had explained to him how he tried to recreate it based on what he saw. Ulder corrected him and let him know.

“No need to flip the sword multiple times,” he said, standing off to the side while Wyll held a wooden sword. “Flip it once. Have your left arm raised halfway at your hip so you can be ready. When you catch the handle with your left, then you may flip the blade by the handle as many times as you like before resuming your base stance.”

It took him a few tries, but he was able to do it. He had always been a quick study. And Ulder had smiled. Theya had smiled too when he felt extra confident with the move and showed her (still with a wooden sword).

He heard Karlach greeting the venturing group as they returned back at the edge of camp.

“Find anything worth a damn?” she asked.

Gale nodded. “A few magical items I may use for my current condition. But mostly, wares that will most likely be sold unless anyone here can make use of them.”

Lae’zel set the sack near the campfire and walked off. Looting didn’t exactly seem like her thing, and Wyll could see the visible annoyance start to roll off her now that she was no longer being used as a pack mule.

He looked at Aiya then, as she sat on a makeshift log bench while beginning to go through the bag.

“First things first,” she started, pulling out a jar and holding it above her head to catch the attention of the man a few feet away. “Halsin, this is for you.”

It was a jar of honey, well preserved. The older man walked forward and accepted it gladly.

“Many thanks, Aiya.”

She continued to rummage, but still responded. “Thank Gale. He found it in a basement pantry,” she mumbled. “Among other things.”

She pulled out a weapon then. A slim blade, golden handle on the end.

“Wyll,” she said, looking up. “Can you make any use of this?”

He walked forward and accepted the sword from her. She had stopped for a moment, looking up at him as he examined the find.

“Hm,” he began. Then he smirked. He knew a great way to test its balance.

He tossed it in the air; one flip, then swung his left hand as it fell back to chest level, managing to swing it three times in his hand before bringing it down to his side.

“Balanced,” he answered, lifting it back up and holding it at eye level to observe the quality of the metal. “Light. In good condition.”

He looked down at her. “I can certainly take it off your hands.”

She smiled at him gently. “Nice little trick,” she nodded, and Wyll recognized it was only partly sarcastic, yet it still made something in his chest bloom. “Glad it will work for you.”

“Thank you,” he answered gently.

“How many times did it take you hurting yourself to get that one down?” She asked. Wyll laughed.

“You know, I was just thinking about that earlier. The times I snuck off to father’s armory and practiced flips and fancy deflects on dummies and barrels of hay. I have plenty of scars to attest to that.”

She smirked at him. “And how many noble ladies have you done that in front of?”

He inhaled in disbelief and huffed out another laugh. “I see I’ve been had.”

“Exactly,” she said, then starting pulling more items out of the bag. Wyll watched her for a moment, then asked if she needed any help splitting and sorting items. She denied, but thanked him for the offer.

Dinner was the same sort of chaos it normally was, considering the type of group they were. And it was decided they’d all pick up and move tomorrow. The team today had efficiently searched the area for any supplies that could be worth anything, so it was time to move on.

As Wyll lay in his bedroll that night, he let his mind wander again.

“And you think this will impress the young ladies?” Ulder had asked, mirth in his voice.

Wyll smiled wide. “I know it will.”

[sorcerous-caress]

For some Wyll angst, do you think you could write something where Tav is a tiefling and they're a bit insecure about their budding relationship with Wyll because he hates his devilish appearance so they're like “how could he possibly be attracted to me” (— Wyll girl dad anon)

Wyll with an insecure tiefling Tav

[Angst, comfort, image issues, tiefling Reader, nb!reader]

[Part of the Wyll's Week event]

You really tried to not let it get to you.

Each time he made a demeaning comment about his new appearance.

Sneered at the reflection of his horns, ones just like yours.

The way he stiffened when someone would focus on his red eye with the black sclera, preferring they face the sending stone one instead.

He has every right to be upset about his appreance getting forcibly changed.

And yet, despite it all, every word dug into your heart as if they were told to you personally.

Devil, demon, hellspawn, the humans loathed your kind.

You thought he was different, when you saw him being so gentle with the tiefling kids.

But a human, will always be a human.

Fear of the unknown, of what lurks behind the curtains, it was always a great motivator for the human kind.

Your horns, your tail, your bright flaming eyes and colorful vibrant skin.

Things your own mother celebrated in you as a kid.

Things your own father boosted about with pride.

Things that once were beautiful.

Marked you as a monster to the world.

Even when you fell in love with this world, left the safe nest of your own people to go explore.

it never loved you back.

So why would he love you back?

You don't remember when it started, but slowly, eventually, your beautiful reflection in the mirror twisted and cracked everyday.

Until you too, could only see the monster the other claimed you to be.

You thought he could see the beauty in you, that you too have a soul.

You were a fool.

Why would he see that when he can't see it in himself? Why would he love you when he is clearly disgusted by the idea of being like you.

You thought humans were pretty, plain yes, but pretty in their simplicity.

And even when he lost his resemblance to his own kin, you still thought that he was pretty.

Charming, beautiful, mesmerising, so many words could describe Wyll and fail to give him justice.

The lovely horns that felt like they were the missing piece to yours, the mapping of his skin with the ridges and pumps that made him even more sharper.

He clearly thought differently.

And so to protect yourself, you took a step back.

Distaned your heart, pulled back your curtains.

Wyll noticed it of course, your sudden change of heart.

But like any proper gentleman, he never addressed it, never felt like he had the right to when the two of you barely even shared a kiss.

You couldn't avoid him forever.

And so he waited until the celebration to approach you, to open the topic.

He was delicate with it, always knew how to spin his words correctly.

You were kind, always knew how to evade a topic politely.

An endless dance that was growing tiring as the night went on, as people retired to their tents.

Leaving just you and Wyll.

His flirting, words that once fluttered your heart, stung like a needle through it instead.

How could he possibly be attracted to you?

And you told him so, as you were getting fed up with this whole situation.

Told him to drop the act, he doesn't have to pretend to find you not hideous just because you're the group leader.

There was genuine suprise in Wyll's eyes, a flash of disbelief.

And for a moment the mask dropped, his charming flamboyant words that are usually dressed up were bare and forward instead.

Asking why do you think he's pretending

Why would he ever find you hideous.

You were more confused by the second, is he feigning innocence? Or is he making fun of you?

Does he think you're a fool?

The dome collapsed and the walls cracked as your heart poured out all of the pain it contained inside, each and every one of his passing comments that were ingrained in your brain like a parasite digging at your skull whenever you thought you had a chance.

Mocking you for thinking a monster can be anything but a monster, for thinking a human can see humanity in others.

As you recalled every word you were a witness to, Wyll was horrifed by the end of it.

Of himself.

The raging flames of anger amidst your chest weren't rejected by him, but welcomed as he stepped into the flames and didn't attempt to forcefully douse them.

Instead, he apologied.

To you, for everything he said, for his naive ignorance, for being too obsorbed in his own view of what makes a human a human to truly comprehend what he was condeming.

Who he was condemning.

For it wasn't the devils he ended up cursing, but the innocent tieflings he was attempting to save.

How unaware he was in his blinded rage, damming the ones he was trying to protect.

Hurting the one person he loved.

Love.

For you were not a monster in his eyes, you were love, pure in essence, raging flames in passion, beautiful in core.

He confessed how he almost didn't believe his eyes when he saw you, almost questioned reality. For how could one person put the sun to shame? How could one person rival the moon in grace?

And again, he apologiesed.

The night ended quietly.

And you noticed how Wyll lingered more and more on his own reflection.

Looked at his own horns the same way he admired yours when he thought no one was looking.

Traced the ridges on his face, gently.

And then you noticed it, a single charm.

A subtle gold trinket that one puts at the end of their horn.

Strangely, he only wore one, yet you were sure they came in a pair.

At the end of that day, you found the matching charm inside your tent with a letter underneath.

Your eyes scanned the paper, taking in the carefully written lines, the cursive words.

You held the charm in the other hand.

And nothing ever, could compare to Wyll's smile the next day as he saw you wearing it.

Although he would object, for he claims your own smile, sharp teeth and all, would make the flowers bloom in adoration.

And in a way, you were starting to see your own face again, your own reflection again.

The same could be said for Wyll, for his own monster too, quietly went to bed whenever you were around.

[sorcerous-caress]

May I request a wholesome Wyll & Karlach poly shenanigans?

Wyll & Karlach poly headcanons

[Fluff, wholesome, polyamory, nb!reader]

None of you are sure exactly who's idea was it to be together

It seemed to have developed naturally for all of you, as smoothly as a diverging waterstream creating a river.

Maybe it was the trip to Avernus together, afterall, not many people make it through countless hoards of demons without having the most possible trust ever in your companions.

And god were the three of you a force to be reckon with.

Wyll's blade, Karlach's strength and your leadership left all of your enemies akin to crumpled tissues in the aftermath of every battle.

Then it naturally progressed.

Holding Karlach's arm here, giving Wyll a kiss on the cheek there.

Their love for you wasn't subtle.

Well, Wyll's might have approached it in more subtle and delicate ways, while Karlach prefered to wake up up one day and announce how much she wants to ride you whilst Wyll choked on his morning coffee in the background.

They were the best of friends, yet they were words apart in terms of romance.

Each one giving you the best of both worlds.

The thrill of being ravished by Karlach.

The butterflies of being courted by Wyll.

The firey sharp teethed make outs with the tiefling.

The tender kiss at the end of a long slow dance with the human.

They couldn't compete, might as well bet the sun against the moon or race a fish against a bird.

Each day with them was an adventure on its own.

Even the lazy days were filled with fun and laughter, comfortable cuddling and warm food.

Wyll loved to lay his head on your lap.

Karlach loved to hug your back to her chest to sleep.

Wyll adored putting flowers in your hair.

Karlach can't resist kissing you good morning and good night.

They made hell feel like heaven, you can't imagine how dull your days would've been without them.

Karlach does help Wyll with his horns a lot, teaches him how to take care of them, how to shine and prep them.

Wyll is her shoudler to lean on when the world gets to her, when the unfairness of what she's been through prevents her from seeing the light.

He is very gentle when he needs to be, even when you feel like the world is closing its walls around you, Wyll is there to guide you out of that doomed fate.

You're also there for them when they need it.

As their previous leader and now lover, they can't help but look up at you. Clear admiration and respect in their eyes, your words weight a lot for their hearts.

[sorcerous-caress]

this was originally for gale but this already fits wyll sooo

wyll being a prince and only having his maid (the reader) as a friend and slowly falls in love with them and thinking they wouldn’t like him

BUT THEY DO and they have to be the first one to confess bc wyll tried and it completely fumbled

i’m so sorry if this doesn’t make but also i love your writing! thank you!

Heaven was made for two | Wyll

[Fluff, romance, childhood friends, diots in love, confessing, getting together, kissing, prince Wyll au, maid!reader, nb!reader]

[Part of the Wyll's Week event]

The two of you met as children

During a festival, you let go of your father's hand and wandered amidst the crowd.

Going from one shiny thing to the other, you didn't realise how lost you got until it suddenly downed on you when you reached the riverside.

It was devoid of people around, just you and the muffled sound of the festival behind you.

You wanted your father, you felt scared.

And so you sat down, hugging your knees to your chest and closing your eyes before the tears could pour out.

You just wanted to go home.

That's when he first came into your life, a boy your age who sat down in front of you.

He asked what's wrong, how can he help.

You kept your eyes closed as you told him what happened through hiccups.

He told you his name, promising to stay by your side until your father comes.

His name sounded familiar to you.

You opened your eyes, and saw the same boy who was just holding the king's hand during the festival.

Wyll, the royal prince himself, the first heir to the throne.

To your younger self, you didn't know what to do, or how to react even to royalty.

But he didn't seem arrogant, if anything he talked to you like your other friends would, he seemed like a normal kid.

The two of you spent the evening playing on the riverside, chasing each other and rolling on the soft grass below.

By the end of it when the royal guards eventually made their way to you with panicked expressions, they found two children covered in grass and dirt from head to do, giggling as they attempted to imitate the frog on the other side of the river, hopping around.

When the two of you were brought back, you were met with the relieved faces of both your father and the king himself.

And suddenly it downed on you how serious Wyll's position is when the king informed the guard to call off the search, when the festival apparently came to immediate halt the moment Wyll went missing.

You were nervous again, wondering if you're going to get in trouble.

Worse, you saw your father feeling nervous and you felt like crying again as he kneeled down to hug you close.

To your surprise, Wyll was the first to speak up when asked about what happened.

He told them that you were the one to find him on the riverside, that you were the one to wipe away his tears and keep him company.

The king seemed very pleased and your father looked proud, you didn't understand why at the time.

His majesty extended an invitation to the both of you, to spend the rest of the festival together.

And you and Wyll were beyond ecstatic, smiling as you held each other's hands and kept walking around the festival with your parents nearby.

Wyll showed you so many cool things, and in return you introduced him to many of the local shopkeepers and your other friends.

Going back home that day, your father carried you in his arms as you slowly dozed off to sleep.

You made a new friend, you were very happy thay day, even without fully comprehending what it meant that your new friend was a prince.

Your father tried explaining it when you asked, but to your sleepy young mind, only a few words made it through your ears before you fully went to dreamland.

Unaware that this was the last time you or the kingdom as a whole would see Wyll for a long time.

Something was stirring in the castle, everyone was aware of it.

The older you got the more the rumours spread around that the young prince was sent to another kingdom for training.

And when you finally became an adult, the news of the prince's disgrace spread like widefire.

Wyll, the sweet boy you've met on the riverside who held a ladybug ever so gently to not hurt it by accident, made a deal with a devil.

The kingdom's beloved and only prince, exiled from his land.

You couldn't believe it, you desperately wanted the news to be false.

But when the king himself announced the denouncing of his son, you felt your own heart sink.

A kingdom without an heir.

You began helping your father around his job at that age, studying hospitality and caretaking.

The years went by as you made your way through varius jobs, eventually you passed the royal staff recruitments test and secured yourself a good position as a maid in the castle.

Yet something felt weird, the royal staff rarely scouted for more than 10 people per year, even then it was just as replacements for older staff.

And yet they request people in the hundreds, from teachers, trainers, chefs and maids.

Almost as if they were expecting a new addition to the family.

Yet that was impossible, the queen passed away during childbirth, and the king declined any and all attempts at getting him to remarry another, even after Wyll's exile.

You're assigned as a personal made, to attend to someone's needs and make sure they are safe and clean.

Yet no one ever told you who you were exactly assigned to, it was as if everyone in the original staff was in on a big secret that no one else knew.

You're walking alongside the river again, reminiscing on that teary eyed child you used to be, on how far you've come.

How much you've grown since, how your father looks at you with pride.

Some of your friends went away, some stayed close yet drifted apart, and some remained strong as ever by your side and the new friends you've made.

But you can't help and wonder what happened to that little boy you've played tag with, what happened to make him risk his soul just for a devil.

You spot someone on the riverside, a set of horns catches your attention.

They're sitting down on the grass, hugging their knees with their face buried down, only their horns remain visible.

You're reminded of yourself, you decide to become the person you needed most at that time.

You step closer to the man ahead, noticing the lack of tail, not unheard it but certainly unusual for a tiefling.

You're kneeling down in front of him, you ask if he's okay, if there's a way you can help.

A human face lifts to meet you, scaredd and jagged with demonlike features but still clearly human nonetheless.

The person starts a sentence, opens his mouth but suddenly goes speechless as he meets your eyes.

You see recognition in his mismatched eyes, but you don't remember these eyes no matter how mucj you tried.

You focus on the rest of his face, his nose, his lips and the his cheeks.

Like a puzzle the pieces fall into place slowly, despite the demonic appearance wrapping his human features.

But his hand, oh when you look at his hands you're immediately taken back to that one evening as a kid.

You haven't felt fear in so long, but at that momen you're terrifed to your core at this revelation.

"Wyll?"

...

He doesn't reply, he tries but no sound comes out, his lips tremble, there is shame in his glossy eyes.

He wants to hide, to run away.

He wants to go home.

You recognise each and every one of those feelings, read him like an open book.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he starts to get up, avoiding your eyes.

In a panic you try to stop him, fearing that you'll never see him again, that he will slip through your fingers before you could say hello.

You put all of your weight foraward and tackle him into the grass, a resemblance of a hug as the two of you stumble backwards and fall.

You hold him tight below you, you refuse to let go.

"Wyll please talk to me." You beg, "please tell me you're okay."

He's hesitant but you're patient.

He tells you everything, about Mizora, the deal he made, the contract he almost broke, the friends he has made.

And the bittersweet reunion with his father.

By the end of the story, the two of you are sitting side by side on the edge of the river.

Holding hands.

You stay with him for as long as time allows, even when the sun goes down at the stars glitter through the sky.

He keeps holding your hand, he keeps you close.

The walk to the castle the next morning is a bit awkward after sleeping under the stars all night.

But you lend your shoulder for Wyll to lean on, remind him to hold his head high no matter what looks others might give him.

Only when the two of are in front of the doors to the king's private council, does he let go of your hand.

But he doesn't go in, instead he faces you.

"I haven't forgotten about you, since that day" Wyll confesses, "what I thought of as a mere childhood crush, flourished into something i could've never anticipated. When i met your eyes again, it reignited my soul."

He takes a step closer, "what I'm saying is, you're very dear to me."

You smile, touched at his words, "you're dear to me too Wyll, as your friend I'll always be there for you."

"Ah." Wyll clears his throat, "yes a friend."

He seems embarrassed for some reason that flies over you head, he turns around and goes to knock on the door.

"I'll make sure to drop by afterwards, is your resident still the same?" Changing the subjects, he attempts to make small talk as he waits for the door to open.

"Yeah actually, i live in the castle now, i work here."

Wyll seems pleasantly delighted by this information, but whatever he was going to say gets interrupted as the king himself opens the door.

His majesty doesn't seem surprised in the slightest by Wyll's changed appearance, if anything he smiles warmly as he invites his son inside.

The two of them bid you goodbye for the day, you give a courtsy bow before leaving too.

It turns out the king and the older staff were fully aware of the prince's return, some were kept in the dark about his changed appearance.

It's Wyll who you were assigned as a personal maid to.

Days pass, then weeks and months.

The colours seem brighter, the skies hold twice as many stars and the wind seems like an always pleasent breeze to you.

Serving Wyll felt less like duty and more like spending time with a close friend, the prince was very independent when it came to his own responsibilities and therefore you barely had any remaining tasks to preform.

So most of your time was spent walking besides him and offering help when you can.

Yet you can tell there is something he was keeping from you.

You weren't sure when he got so shy about holding hands or hugging you all of the sudden.

He would do it normally with others, yet with you his nervousness reared its head more often than not.

Truth be told, he probably wasn't the only one hiding a secret.

You couldn't deny the flutter of your hear when you saw him, the bounce on your step whenever you made your way to him chambers at the start of the day.

Your feelings of affection were too strong to deny, you weren't how to approach the subject or even start.

It's not like you can just walk up to him one day and tell him everything?

Or can you?

And that's exactly what you did, out of the blue one day while the two of you were eating breakfast together.

Or well, Wyll insisted on you eating his breakfast with him otherwise he wouldn't eat.

"Oh, by the way your highness, there is something I wanted to tell you about"

"I'm all ears."

"I love you."

It took 5 seconds of silence before he choked on his morning tea, staring at you with wide eyes.

"...surely you don't mean that-"

"I've always loved you, since that day you held my hand." You said with calmness, sipping on your own cup, "I'm not expecting you to return my feelings, I just wanted you to acknowledge them."

In less than a second he has abandoned his seat and is by your side, hugging you close and burying his head in your neck.

"I didn't think...I didn't expect." His voice is shaking, he holds you as if he's afraid to wake up from this dream, as if reality might just crumble around him at any second.

You're patient with him, setting your plate aside as you fully turn around to embrace him.

"I love you" you repeat.

Wyll lifts his head to face you, the happiest you have ever seen him, "I do too, more than life should allow possible, my feelings they are...indescribable."

His lips meet yours, it's short, sweet and tender.

I love you too."

[sorcerous-caress]

If you have the time, could you do a Wyll request with a durge!tav who is waaaaay too selfless to balance out the violent parts of their brain. Like Wyll is about to take a massive hit and tav just pushes him out of the way, taking the damage and bleeding out on the ground but they just offer a smile to Wyll in return. They don't know how to express that it makes them feel less of a monster when they do this stuff.

Into my arms | Wyll

[Angst, comfort, themes of indirect self harm/destructive behaviours, getting better together, Durge Reader, Nb!Reader]

[ part of the Wyll's Week event]

To bleed is to know you have a soul.

Oh, how reassuring it was, the sight of your own life essence escaping your veins. A cleansing shower of red that washes away all of your sins.

All of your father's sins.

To be bathed in your own blood, to bear the scars of every arrow and sword that you dived in front of, it's proof to the world of your innocence.

Your companions, your friends, the people who accepted you for who you are, you can't fail them.

So you closed off your walls, built a fortress of steel and enchanted the bricks to deflect all of your emotions and urges inwards, on yourself instead.

To protect the ones you loved, to spare the world of your cruel heart.

If your brain craves for blood to be spilled, it will be yours. A member to dismember, will come from you.

Wyll was the most vocal out of your other companions about his discontent with your ways of indirect self-flagellation masquerading as selfless kindness, your constant sacrifice of precious parts of you until you hoped nothing will remain.

“I am grateful for you sparing me from that arrow, truly,” Wyll sat down next to you just as Shadowheart bid her goodnight after healing your wounds, “but why put yourself in front of me? Why tempt death constantly by using yourself as a shield for me, for all of us.”

He sees the way you look at him, at all of them. As if they were something precious, as if they were doing you a favour by giving you a decent treatment. A stark contrast to how hollow your gaze becomes whenever you glance at a mirror, face your own reflection with disdain.

You would carve out your own flesh to feed them if you had to, it was written in your soul clear as day. And that notion was far too scary for Wyll's brain to comprehend.

You haven't given him a reply, merely smiled. Too tender and sweet of a smile for someone who's ready to sacrifice their own body for him, for someone who already did countless times.

He isn't blind, he is far too familiar with this kind of overcompensation. The idea that if you let the world punish you enough, drag your limbless form through the mud and dig deep, then maybe just maybe salvation will be an option.

An attempt to balance the scales of fate, the unfair hand you were dealt in this life, the child of a slayer god. Bathed with blood and adorned with carcasses since the day you were born, not that you had any choice in the face of your ever so doting father.

Where is he now? Wyll wonders. Where are any of the gods? When they turned their backs on him that damned night, when he begged on his knees for a devil to deliver what the divine couldn't care to.

They only reared their ugly head when it suited them, and yours seemed to only send you the best of gifts after forcing your own hand to rip something equally as precious from your world.

The campfire flame cackles at both of your miserable states, your joint desperation for approval.

Wyll tries to offer you what he cannot give himself, to be the person he needed most that night.

Reassurance.

“You're not a monster, you don't deserve to bleed just because.” He tells you the word he repeated to himself once before, “you don't have to be strong for us.”

You can be weak

Be weak and drop the weight of the world from your shoulders, be weak and fear death for your life is worth living. 

Be weak and cry when you get hurt, stay down when you fall, hug yourself when you crumble. 

Please be weak.

“Let me have your back, be your sword and shield.” The campfire light reflects off of his horns, he just like you, already paid the price.

The bandage around your waist where the arrow struck is still fresh, you wince as you try to get closer to him. Before you could force your body to move again, Wyll himself closes the distance, leaving his seat and kneeling on the ground in front of you.

“Please.” You see your reflection in his eyes, “promise me you will at least try, depend on me, on all of us.”

The words are dry in your mouth, his lips look especially lovely as he pleads his case.

So many words unspoken, so many thoughts swirl around your brain.

I can handle it.

It's my fate.

It's what I deserve.

I rather die than watch you get hurt.

It claws at my skin every second demanding I give in.

You deserve more than I can afford.

I'm death incarnate.

I should be hurt.

I can't handle it.

Then your mind blinks away, a blank state as you feel his lips, those same lovely lips, kiss your bruised knuckles.

Then, emotions.

You almost forgot you had them, almost forgot you deserved to feel them.

You cup Wyll's face gently with the same hand, hold him tenderly.

“I promise,” you vow, “I will try. For you, I will do anything.”

[sorcerous-caress]

Can we hear more about girldad Wyll 🥺🥺

Girl dad Wyll

[Fluff, wholesome, married au, nb!reader]

[Last part of the Wyll's Week event, it's been an amazing week <3]

Early morning

The bed is warm, the air slightly chilly. You cuddle further into the bundle of blankets, pretending not to notice the two little figures sneaking into your room.

Even when one of them giggles as the other shushes her, you feign ignorance as your daughters ready themselves to surprise you.

As they approach you, standing right in front of your side of the bed. You suddenly pull them into the bed with you, smiling at their screams of suprise that melts into laughter.

Your husband's voice calls out from the kitchen, the delicious smell of breakfast and fresh coffee following.

The gang of two toddlers keep you hostage on the bed, demanding to stay with you under the warm covers, how it's too cold outside.

You have half a mind to realise they just want to use you as an excuse to eat breakfast in bed, you oblige and tell wyll to bring it here.

There's amusement on his face when he arrives with breakfast, "and you say I'm the one who spoils them." He says, just as your two daughters suddenly wake up from their pretend sleep, courtesy to the two cups of warm chocolate.

Sleepover

"How come you're invited to their tea party but I'm not?" Crossing your arms, you eyed your husband with envy as he adjusted his clothes in the mirror.

"My love, it's their loss that they couldn't afford to have you," Wyll met your eyes through the reflection on the mirror, before his lips curled into a smug smile,"and I have better table manners, also I'm their favourite parent."

The knock on your bedroom door halted this conversation.

"Fine go on, your fans awaite you, your highness." You laid on the bed.

Instead of answering the door, Wyll joined you on the bed, swiftly getting on top of you. His lips so close to yours, you felt his hands caress your body, longing in his eyes.

A small gentle kiss, the soft touch of his lips against yours.

And just like that it was gone, he was gone as he got up and answered the bedroom door.

You could see your two little girls hurrying their father to come join their pretend teaparty with their friends. Wyll smiled at them as he picked them up in his arms, agreeing to whatever they demanded as they left for their room.

Oh well, someone has to go make the actual tea and bake the cookies for the said tea party, you might have not gotten an invite but you're sure not about to give up on being the favourite parent, just you wait and see your highness.

Treehouse

He built one with his dad before, he tells you, it was one of his most treasured memories. And so no wonder he got excited when the oldest of your daughters approached him with a crayons drawn map of her dream castle ontop of your backyard's tree.

And so you were ropped into it too, while you knew your husband wasn't above breaking a nail or two like a certain past friend you two had, he did lack a lot in upper body strength.

His lean athletic build did help him a lot in dodging around attacks, swiftly riposting swords, almost dancing around any battlefield.

Not so much when it came came to carrying to planks of wood, that's where you came in.

"My hero, what would I ever do without you." He sang your praises with practice, lifting the other end of the wood plank as the two of you moved it to the tree. You didn't have the heart to tell him that you were doing most of the lifting.

Nonetheless, the experience was as equally tedious and exhausting as it was memorable and surprisingly fun. Something about your two daughters cheering you own and bringing you their half-drank juiceboxes motivated the both of you to finish this tree house no matter the cost.

And the cost just happened to be your spine.

Dancing

He's gentle with them, patient and kind, even when they step on his foot by accident, even when the younger daughter gets overwhelmed from all the complicated steps while the older ones gets fed up with having to slow down for her.

Wyll diffuses the situation seamlessly, as if it was magic. He always knew how to be gentle with them and win their hearts.

You're sitting on the couch watching him guide them into dancing with each other, correcting their forms and helping them to keep trying.

Eventually, they get the hang of it, dancing with as much grace as two toddlers in pyjamas can manage. There's excitement and pride in their voice as they call for you, telling you to watch them, showing you what they learnt as if you weren't sitting there the whole time.

You compliment them like any good parent should, amazed at their fast progress and how adorable they looked. Wyll is clearly waiting for some compliments, too, from the way he has been clearing his throat and stealing glance at you.

Playing hard to get, you pretend not to notice his subtle hints. Crediting all of your daughters' newly found skills to them being natural at it rather than having a good teacher.

And just like their father, they visibly gleam at the compliments and let it inflate their egos.

You're not a bit surprised when your husband extends his hand to you next, asking you for a dance, in an attempt to bask in your attention for a while, hopefull you'll shower him in compliments after.

Maybe you will.

Under the stares

The two of are in your daughters' shared bedroom, bidding them goodnight. You just finished telling them a story and Wyll is tucking them.

There's only pure love and adoration in his eyes as he makes sure the sheets are nice and secured around them, fluffing their silk pillows and adjusting their bonnets so they don't slip while they sleep. Giving each one a kiss on the forehead as you wait by the doorway.

You knew him well enough to know that this was his favourite part of the day. When he gets to know his little girls are sleeping peacefully and protected, watching them grow up each day with pride.

It's the little thing that mattered, and to Wyll, there was no heaven greater than this little home with you and your daughters.

[sorcerous-caress]

I haven’t seen one single thing with Wyllxdurge. If there is then I haven’t stumbled across it. I beg of you to make something with it, I lack ideas. The only possible one I could think of is the redeem ark for durge and Wyll being the good boy he is helping Durge. Or a FAT angst with durge giving into the urges and following through with their fathers demands.

Like can you imagine the daddy issues with durge and wyll and no one’s feeding into it😭

-⚫️ (I have no idea if your okay with the anon emoji thingy- I’m sorry if your not okay with it😭)

Wyll with Durge is a really interesting concept. Like I can't think of any other companion who's at the opposite end of the morality spectrum of Durge other than Wyll.

Sure Karlach is kinda there- Kinda, but not to the point that Wyll is. Even goody two shoes Gale is susceptible to corruption.

Wyll and Durge do fit the trope of the sun x moon or dark x light. On a murdering lunatic x selfless prince charming.

Yet both share the experience of being dethroned, both fell from their own version of grace because of something out of their own control. Both are forced to work together in order to survive.

In another world, Wyll would've been at the height of society, in the tallest castles mingling with the noblest, doing the whole song and dance for his father's pride.

While durge would've been at deepest temples of the earth, performing a vivisection on a barrage of sacrifices, mingling with their organs for their father's amusement.

Two sides of the same coin fr fr. Wyll is the rose and Durge is the thorns. Both stem from the same vine yet are world's apart in terms of difference.

Wyll had to deal with demons all his life, fight tooth and nail to survive. Durge had to supress their instincts, play polite and nice to get by.

What I'm saying is they will definitely solve each other's problems. Durge is more than capable of going down to the hells and dragging Mizora by the hair, bringing back only her dismembered horns as a gift for Wyll.

While Wyll is more than capable of charming entire societies of nobles, getting them wrapped around his finger as he uses his father's name for influence and fame.

I am okay with emojies for anons <3

[sorcerous-caress]

How about some angst for Wyll week? Maybe Grand Duke!Wyll x a Tav who he knows would be absolutely miserable as the grand duke's spouse? They're willing to give it a go for him, but he knows it'll never work.

You were always wild at heart, there was fire in your soul and that's what attracted Wyll to you like a moth to the flame.

Your crass language never failed to make him chuckle, your unkempt wild hair looked the best drenched with the blood of your enemies. There was an undeniable adventurer charm to how you constantly wore armour, or how your camp clothes left very little to the imagination.

Wyll adored that free spirit you held, the strong determination and the bluntness of your tongue.

Sometimes he envies you actually, if only he had half the courage you had, half the bravery you held, then he wouldn't have felled to the pressure of the noble society.

"Please understand my love, it's the best for both of us"

He's avoiding your gaze, eyeing the acron hanging from the necklace you're wearing instead. The same one he gave you long ago.

"Cut the bullshit Wyll, you don't get to make my decisions for me." You reply, sharp as ever.

His coronation was less than a week ago, and yet comments about the Archduke's lover started circling amidst the upper city like wild fire.

The same wild fire he once adored seeing in your eyes, snuffed out by a glossy layer of what could become pouring rain.

He regrets looking at your eyes, his stomach twists painfully.

"It's my own fault, I should have made this decision sooner." His gold ring, the same one you picked for him, is missing from his finger.

You're still wearing yours as his hand reaches out, placing the twin ring inside your palm.

"You have to understand that I cannot fail my people now, I cannot fail my father." He stands up, planning to flee like a coward, the blade of frontiers himself.

"Then what are you waiting for?" An eerie calm tone that turns into a shout as you push your chair away, "Fucking go Wyll" you throw the ring at his feet.

A drop flows down into the ground below, then another and another, you blink your eyes quickly to wipe them away.

And he leaves.

[sorcerous-caress]

a wyll with a beefy, brutish, pushy bitch of an oath-breaker paladin girlfriend 🥺 HELP

That's what I'm fucking talking about anon. Wyll has the perfect setup romance to end up with someone he wants to treat like a prince/princess. So imagine him ending up with the most scruffy and battle worn-out women.

Your arms are hardned from carrying a great sword or a gaint shield everywhere, faded scars and a combat trained body. You've seen more fights than Wyll ever has, and she doesn't take bullshit from anyone, completely jaded to the world.

Intimidating people, putting them in their place and being outrude rude came second nature to you, you didn't care niceties or manners, you were hardned around the edges.

And you sees Wyll, a fresh new hero with stars in his eyes and a bounce to his step, the adorable thing carries a single blade despite being a spellcaster. He is still a green soldier in her eyes no matter how many fights he has won.

You makes the first move, and it endearing how coy he is. How only a kiss was all he could offer during the celebration when half your companions were ready to climb you like a tree.

He's like a breath of fresh air, especially with how dim life has become after you devowed your oath, after you saw just how cold and cruel the gods can be, after they forsake you.

You successfully implae a spear through Mizora the first time she comes around, you're quicker than she is. In a panic she teleports back to the hells to heal, Wyll is both stunned and speechless.

Demon, angel, god, it didn't matter to you who was after him. You're strong, you're capable, you will protect his spark of hope for humanity if it was the last thing you'll ever do.

You'll indulge his song and dance, take the lead, and make him wrap his arms around your neck, hold his waist, and spin him around.

[sorcerous-caress]

I know most people like roll their eyes at the girl dadifcation of male characters (I do too sometimes) but I know in my soul Wyll is a girl dad. He's practically a fairytale prince of COURSE he is going to their little tea parties and playing dress up

Those people are weak anon! What's better than a girl dad? I feel it in my bones, Wyll, Gale, Minthara and Halsin feel like absolute girl parents.

Shadowheart feels like a toxic boy mom but let's not go there.

Anyway so let's focus on Wyll. In my "how would they be as parents" fic I did imagine Wyll to have two girls when I wrote it but I kept it gender neutral at the end.

I like to imagine that the oldest girl would take after her dad, she brings a wooden sword with her everywhere and tries to act like a knight in shining armour. She is secretly very impressed by his history of adventures but tries to pretend she isn't because she wants to be even cooler than her dad.

The second one is more the princess type, she is runs to her older sister whenever she wants something.

Both of them do rope Wyll into tea parties, the youngest as the princess and the oldest as her bodyguard Knight that also must attend the tea party.

Wyll was raised as a noble, he definitely brings out all the etiquette and manners he learned from his dad. All the dances, the pinky lifting and the flattery words, his two daughters copy it with awestruck eyes.

He gets to wear a crown, he happily carries them to dance to slow music, he definitely takes them to balls and dresses them in the prettiest gowns he himself picks. He does their hair and accessories, adds small crowns and makes sure his own outfit matches theirs in colour.

He is an absolute girl dad that wakes up at 6am to do his daughters hair before school, he smiles as he helps them put their shoes one.

[sorcerous-caress]

former anon that asked for the bitchy oath-breaker paladin now asking for… wyll with a body 2 vampire lady 😩

A vampire Tav might actually be the end of Wyll, that man will die happily just to know you were well-fed and happy.

At first he was cautious of you, he has encountered vampires in the past and he knew they don't have a soul, they don't love or feel joy.

And maybe he is right, maybe deep down vampire tav is just as power obsessed as he first thought they were, just as cruel and cold. But they're good at pretending, at faking having a soul, at masquerading as a mortal.

And Wyll is none the wiser when he falls for your faux vulnerability and fragile heart act. Every so clueless as you easily string him a long, get him all wrapped around your little finger.

His neck is all yours, his blood soley belong to you. It's the closest a vampire will ever get to true love, to completely own someone, heart, body and soul.

Those delicious sounds he makes when you bite him, the way he breathlessly tells you to take more, to satiate your thirst. How willing he is to be your source of life no matter the hour.

Yet another parasite remains, an inferal tangy test that always followed at the aftermath of his blood, as sour as a rotten lemon.

Only after dealing with that hellish pest, did you start realising how attached you were getting to your new pet. What started as easy food, slowly developed into pure possessiveness.

The idea of turning his crossed your mind more than you cared to admit. But why did your heart twist when you saw his genuine smile whenever you went up to him? Why did your nose scrunch whenever he called your name so earnestly.

Why did your tongue feel heavy whenever you were about to weave another lie?

For the first time in thousand of years, a forgotten feeling somehow followed you from your grave. The anguish of guilt. The curse of a conscious.

It can't be, you thought, you must be imagining it. He is just one pathetic human, you've had many greater lovers before.

But none like him, never like him. And just the idea of his smile turning into a sneer of disgust once he sees past your veil, instilled fear into you, one you haven't felt since that night you overthrew your previous master.

And maybe in a twist of fate, Wyll has been seeing past the veil since the start.

[sorcerous-caress]

Just a little lad of wyll week 💕

He's so precious, my heart can't take it ♡♡♡

[sorcerous-caress]

Oh oh i got some angst for wyll. What if tav and wyll get in an argument and tav accidentally calls wyll a monster?

You know how arguments go back and fourth and each insult or mockery just gets the other person more upset or defensive?

The second you call him a monster he doesn't react, doesn't defend himself, doesn't even look angry.

He's just silent, still, eyes slightly wider than normal.

The kind of pain that slowly crawls under his skin and digs with it heels at his heart, the kind that eats him on the inside and burns his throat.

He doesn't even have the capacity to get mad. Whatever you were arguing about is long forgotten. His fingers tremble as he averts his gaze to the ground, his horns hang heavy above his head.

"So this is what you see when you look at me, I can't say I blame you."

He leaves, walks past you and doesn't look back. You call out to him, his hands are clenched into fists, there's shame in his footsteps but he keeps going.

You don't see him for a week, he stinks of sulfur and hellfire when he's back.

[sorcerous-caress]

The Wyll's week event is officially starting ♡

[sorcerous-caress]

Is writing something platonic for Wyll Week cool? I might make something with my Tav and Wyll

Yes! Platonic works are just as important as romantic ones. They're very underrated honestly and I'm just happy you're making anything for Wyll at all <3