#I know there are two extra characters in the crowd as well...

[tojiscrack]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃

summary: 7k words — while you’re struggling with the difficult pre-calculus questions, megumi ends up finding out information he wasn’t actively searching for.

notes: woah, sumaya released a chapter a week after the last one and not months later? 😱 what caused this? 🫣 @reinaswrld (aka my wife) got a promotion at her job! 🥳 CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN!!! this chapter is dedicated to you and your success, well done <33 ik it’s not much — one of the shortest chapters so far in the story — but it’s building up a bit of plot, i hope you still enjoy it all the same ❤️‼️

tw: a lot of swearing from a very angry man (you’ll see), gossiping, that’s it tbh :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n, her parents, and other oc’s mentioned in the story. the rest belong to gege akutami.

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the classroom was organised with a focused, minimalist setup, with rows of sturdy tables that filled most of the space, each paired with two hard-backed chairs that left barely enough room for you to move around without bumping into someone else's desk. you stared up at the whiteboard which took up much of the wall, its surface freshly wiped but faintly marked with smudges from the writing by your favourite teacher in the world — kento nanami — who had made you sit at the front for the sole purpose of doing a one-to-one session on the easier questions that you still somehow struggled with.

a projector hung from the ceiling above, casting crisp, blue-tinted notes and problem sets onto the board. his desk was positioned directly beside the whiteboard, immaculately organised, with a stack of ungraded worksheets, a coffee cup, and a single pen resting beside his computer. you thought satoru could use some tips on how to keep his work space as clean as kento's; you knew he wouldn't listen.

around the room, colourful display boards brightened up the neutral walls, each one crowded with pre-calc formulas, visual aids, and student projects — some crumpled from years of use, others meticulously laminated. none of them were of use to you, not when you found yourself stuck on something as simple as functions and transformations.

"try again," kento — or mr nanami, as he constantly demanded you refer to him as — patiently guided you, sliding a fresh worksheet with extra space for you to do your working out on. the previous one you'd been given had been a complete mess of scribbles, doodles, and working out that made no sense whatsoever.

you spun the pencil through your fingers in a dramatic manner, eyes squinted as you addressed the complicated questions on the sheet.

and gave up the second you saw the graphs.

"i'm failing this class," you decided with a sigh.

kento — mr nanami — shook his head at you, his lips in a straight line as he tapped the sheet.

"you haven't even given it a go," he stated sternly, his cheeks hollowing as he stared down at you. "remember what we went through."

"i already forgot," you admitted, abashed.

kento nanami's gaze was a perfect balance of sternness and patience as he looked down at you, his expression unwavering; his eyes were sharp, fixed intently on you with a hint of exasperation glinting beneath his otherwise calm exterior. it did not look as though he was going to let you give up that easily, no matter how deep your sighs of defeat ran. he tapped the sheet again, and despite it sounding like a couple knocks on the table, it really was a beat that spoke in strong tunes, one that said you're going to try again, whether you like it or not,

so you picked up your pencil, frowning at the size of the eraser attached to its rear end (knowing all too well that it was not going to be enough to keep your paper from becoming a mess of lead by the end of the lesson) and got to work, reading the question, and then re-reading it, trying your hardest to understand it down to a t.

kento had left you to tackle the problems alone as he moved across the room, pausing by other students' desks to offer guidance.

...and then returned to find that your paper was now full of doodles and scribbles. he furrowed his brows and let out a sigh, rubbing his straight brows from where they began, to where they angled downwards, the lines on his forehead more prominent as he tensed.

"i tried," you said, looking sullen.

"i can see that," he replied, and it wasn't just the mess of lead he was talking about; he could see the parts of the paper where you had made an attempt at answering the question, only to give up and then fail miserably.

he leaned against his own desk, peering down at you through his circular glasses. they looked odd to you, specifically the way they stuck onto the skin around his eyes like that. it was almost as peculiar as that weird, spotted tie he always wore.

"how often do you study at home?" he asked you, and the tone of his voice, serious, made you suck in your stomach, an unsettling feeling resting in your tummy.

"every friday," you lied. it wasn't as though he'd know you didn't.

only, he somehow had.

"i know you and your family spend fridays at gojo's," he told you, his brows furrowed.

you paused.

thought of your answer.

and then reconsidered it just in case there were any loopholes he could find.

"yeah," you agreed, nodding, "but i study there too. before dinner."

"no she doesn't."

megumi had approached kento with his notebook and worksheet in hand, his handwriting neat, each letter and number placed with a precision that seemed almost methodical.

you scowled at him as he looked straight at your teacher, barely even regarding you with a simple glance, apparently unbothered by your reaction.

"can you grade my questions?" he asked, only looking down and meeting your gaze with a glare when you kicked him from where you sat.

"you're being rude," you snapped, watching him shake the foot you had kicked.

he looked down at his foot, then at you, then back at his foot, as kento took the notebook out of his hands. "you literally just kicked me," he stated with a deep lour.

"yeah, 'cause you interrupted me when i was talking to kento," you shot back, brows furrowed.

"you mean when you were lying to him," megumi corrected you, an accusatory brow raised.

your cheeks warmed as you averted your gaze, barely managing to suppress a scowl. you crossed your arms, focusing on the scribbled doodles and half-erased notes on your worksheet, ignoring megumi's pointed look as you tapped your pencil against the paper in a futile attempt to appear unaffected, but the stubborn heat on your face betrayed your feigned composure.

"check that last question," said kento, handing megumi his notebook back and pointing at something on his page with the end of his red pen. "otherwise, well done megumi."

megumi nodded, muttering a quiet thanks before sitting back in his seat that was somewhere behind you; you didn't bother checking where after his attitude.

"you," kento began, brows furrowed at you, "need a tutor."

you would have beamed at the idea, if not for already being in a particularly sour mood after megumi's comment. still, you vouched for yourself, even though it meant pushing aside your stubborn pride.

"megumi, he said you have to tutor me," you said, turning around to speak to him — he had been sitting on a table with yuji on his left and nobara on his right. you found yourself seething with envy that you were so unbelievably terrible at math, your friends got to squish themselves on a table for two without you.

"i didn't say that," kento added dismissively. "i said you needed a tutor, not that it'd be megumi."

at that, the both of you peered back up at him, dumbfounded.

"i've done it before," your friend informed your teacher, his brows raised expectantly. "she takes forever, but —"

you narrowed your eyes at him. "was that really necessary?"

kento shook his head regardless.

you frowned, looking back at megumi, and you could have sworn you'd seen his shoulders deflate slightly too, but your teacher remained firm, regarding you with tight lips and furrowed brows.

"you get distracted very easily," he told you, his hands resting in the pockets of his formal pants. he nodded in the direction of where your friends were sitting without you. "specifically with megumi."

"megumi and i work very well together, actually," you corrected, unaware of yuji shaking his head in disagreement behind you. he'd stopped when you turned to see where kento's eyes had slowly drifted, suspicious. "even though he's really rude when he teaches me —"

"— i'm not rude —"

"— and super judgemental when i get something wrong," you continued over him; he was most likely glaring at the back of your head, you didn't need to see him to know that, "i still learn a lot."

"while that might be true, something always happens to go wrong when the two of you work together," said kento, and even though he was gentle with his approach on this topic, it still felt like a harsh kick to the stomach. "you aren't sensible."

"i'm sensible," megumi openly disagreed.

you did not appreciate his obvious jab at you. "wha— so am i!"

and to your dismay, yuji had intervened. "no you're not!" he jumped in, expression fierce as he pointed at you accusingly. "you told mr haibara my art work was made out of a toilet accident!"

"well it looked like a toilet accident," you shot back, your face relaxed, eyes half-lidded.

"he asked for her opinion," said nobara — your sweet nobara — coming to your defence without a second thought. she leaned over megumi to speak to yuji directly. "what did you expect her to do, ignore him?"

"if she's capable of saying my art piece looks like a pile of shit smeared on some paper, she's capable of ignoring someone!"

it was kento's slight groan that had the four of you looking up at him, and when you did, you'd been met with the sight of him pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses lifted by his fingers as he let out an exasperated sigh. kento did not enjoy it when the four of you would argue: he said it distracted the class despite your peers having discussions, jokes, and even arguments amongst themselves, unaware of the little spats you'd have with each other.

"enough," he voiced coolly, before regarding both you and megumi with a look of finality. "you have proven my exact point."

"i wasn't even—" megumi began, but you cut through him straight away. it wasn't like he was going to vouch for anyone but himself anyway, the selfish bastard.

"we're not like this at home," you argued passionately, brows raised in a desperate attempt to get kento to consider your situation, even if it meant dealing with a very judgemental megumi, who was never gentle when teaching you.

it seemed that your statement had only strengthened kento's decision to assign you a tutor who wasn't megumi, for his brows had drawn into a firm line, his gaze much harsher as he stared you with what seemed like a mix of finality and resolve.

"i saw the two of you at gojo's birthday last year," he'd said calmly. "the piñata was meant for him, not you."

ah.

kento was talking about the incident where you had 'hijacked' (as satoru had eloquently put it) his birthday piñata. you scoffed — he lived to tell the tale, with that goofy look on his face that was apparently meant to make you sympathise with him, but lived nonetheless.

it wasn't as though anybody was harmed in the process.

kento adjusted his glasses and regarded you with narrowed eyes. "it was also meant to be beaten open with a weapon, y/n. not megumi's head."

"arguably, his crazy hair is a danger to us all, and therefore a weapon of mass destruction," you stated, and found yourself internally pleased when you heard both yuji's and nobara's quiet snickering. "the piñata would agree."

you heard yuji and nobara's chuckles sputter into startled groans, abruptly cut off by a telltale thunk that had megumi written all over it. you couldn't help a sly chuckle as you glanced their way, where the pair nursed their sore heads with matching looks of betrayal, nobara muttering something that sounded a lot like a threat on megumi's life.

he, of course, remained unfazed, still glaring at you, looking about as done as kento had seemed, and sensing his icy gaze narrow further, you quickly schooled your face into a mask of innocent defiance.

"i'm not tutoring you," megumi replied bluntly, and you barely had the time to process that and groan before kento had intervened again.

"that settles it," he said, no longer leaning on his desk and now holding a finger up in a silent motion of 'no more' when your lips had parted to speak. "i will search for someone who i think will be best to tutor you —"

"but megumi —"

"— and is willing to do so too," he said, before picking up a folder, searching through it, and handing you a new worksheet with a different set of questions. "have a go at these before i come back, y/n."

he had left to go and approach other students, moving briskly towards those with raised hands, leaving you with only the fresh worksheet in your own hand, and a sigh caught somewhere between your frustration and reluctant determination.

you only hoped your tutor would be someone you could get along with.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

yuji and megumi walked side by side down the bustling hallway, their steps quick as they wove through clusters of students lingering between classes.

yuji had animatedly recounted an outrageous tale about how choso and todo had finally met, and how it had gone terribly wrong in only a matter of seconds. megumi was silent throughout the story, his mind wandering elsewhere, but he still managed to pay attention and had got the general gist of the story. in fact, megumi was certain that he could summarise it all in one simple sentence, something that yuji had failed to do: yuji's brothers did not like each other and were essentially fighting over him.

yuji squinted his eyes as sunlight streamed in from the tall windows, casting warm beams across their path as they neared the business classroom. megumi raised his arm to shield himself, blinking off the colourful spots in his vision.

"when did all that happen?" he asked, a crease between his brows from the frown he'd been holding up.

"after practice last week tuesday," said yuji, casually, "when i tried catching the early bus, remember?"

"i thought you got the early bus," megumi replied, the two of them taking a right where they'd find their classroom. they'd been stalling for a bit, walking round in circles in different areas of the school, but it was nearly time before the bell rang.

yuji nodded. "i did, but todo insisted on dropping me off. i said no, but — you know him, he doesn't take no for an answer."

megumi knew that quite well. when he first met todo and he'd demanded megumi to tell him his type, no matter how many times he'd refused to, todo remained persistent.

it was annoying.

"and then they met — and then everything was just —"

when the pink-haired boy had stopped speaking so abruptly, megumi glanced over at him.

yuji's gaze drifted into the distance, his eyes widening slightly as he seemed to lose track of his story mid-sentence. megumi furrowed his brows at him, watching his mouth hang open for a beat, the usual spark in his expression dimming as he focused intently on something across the hall. slightly confused, megumi turned to follow yuji's line of sight, the silence between them suddenly weighted, and megumi could only lour at what he'd seen.

"hey," yuji began, voice distant, "isn't that tsumiki?"

across the hallway, kamo stood beside tsumiki, his posture formal yet oddly relaxed, hands resting in his pockets with a quiet attentiveness. tsumiki, in turn, seemed engaged, her expression open and bright, using light hand gestures and motions that she usually did when explaining something.

megumi had seen the same thing in different areas of the school: during study hall, he'd seen tsumiki wave kamo goodbye, just before lunch had ended, he'd seen kamo walking her to her english class, and for the nth time that day, he was watching them interact, watching as tsumiki listened attentively, nodding along with something he was saying.

what the hell was going on? since when did kamo and tsumiki talking to each other become so frequent? was that ever a thing to begin with? megumi couldn't comprehend any of what he was seeing.

but he couldn't blame himself for his lack of understanding here, for everything that had happened in the past week regarding kamo had been odd, especially since that conversation his teammates had had in the locker rooms before practice.

and with a more relaxed, loose expression, megumi realised what that meant; how had this not been the first thought in his mind?

tsumiki was someone that both megumi and yuji knew pretty well. he'd completely ruled out the possibility that kamo would find interest in someone older despite majority of his teammates doing exactly that — they liked older girls.

he just did not believe that any one of them would be interested in his sister.

"yeah," megumi nodded, biting his inner cheek to avoid the natural scowl that he knew was trying to make an appearance. "it is."

"why's she talking to —"

"i don't know," said megumi, now wanting more than ever to enter class early, if only to get rid of the disgusting sight before him. he wished he could also say that he did not care, but he was curious, and he wanted to know what was actually happening between them. "let's go."

"oh, she saw us!" said yuji, raising a hand to wave. "she's saying hi!"

megumi didn't look to see whether this was true or not, but he didn't doubt it, only choosing to ignore his sister entirely and go to his class, half annoyed when he realised that kamo would follow behind him soon since they shared the same one.

"megumi, she's — she's saying hi —" yuji repeated, sounding taken aback by megumi and his cold response of ignoring her entirely.

megumi stepped into the classroom, his expression tight and shoulders tense as he made his way towards his usual seat at the back. the lively hum of conversation around him felt distant, each sound fading as he focused on shaking off the odd irritation from the hallway, and not even a moment later, yuji had trailed behind him, loudly questioning why megumi was ignoring tsumiki, his voice ringing through the quiet room. his obliviousness hung in the air, adding to megumi's quiet frustration as he sank into his seat, mentally urging his friend to just sit down and stop broadcasting his every thought.

to his dismay, yuji did not stop, not even when kamo had entered the room, walking over to his seat parallel to the two.

the rest of the class went by as usual, the only difference being the constant voice at the back of megumi's mind — nagging and pressing — reminding him of what he'd seen throughout the week.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

megumi stood just outside the theatre hall, his figure casting a long shadow on the tile floor as the late afternoon light filtered in through the high windows. the hallway was quiet now, only the faint sound of distant chatter echoing from a classroom down the hall, while the smell of fresh paint and worn wood from the theatre room seeped faintly into the corridor.

dressed in his football uniform, his hair still damp from practice, he idly scanned the posters pinned on the corkboard outside the door: upcoming plays, rehearsals, and auditions for the semester. there was even a picture of you from one of the plays back in sophomore year, a huge success, according to the school newsletter attached to it. he remembered that one, a re-telling of rosalind and how even through the mess your family had caused behind the scenes, you had remained professional enough to take your role as the lead and make something better of it — it was admirable, not that he'd ever tell you that.

he crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall, his eyes occasionally drifting to the door as he waited, his gaze relaxed. when he heard footsteps at the other end of the corridor, light and unhurried, he turned his head, brow twitching slightly as tsumiki closed the large distance between them, a gentle smile tugging at her lips, holding a file to her chest as he swiped the damp strands of his hair away from his forehead.

she stopped just short of him, glancing down at his feet. he followed her gaze, frowning when she didn't speak.

"what?" he said, defensive.

she pointed at his socks, stained with grass. "you're gonna walk in your house with those?"

megumi shot her a look, half grimacing, half glaring. "no," he snapped, snippy. "i'm gonna take them off at the front door."

she shrugged, holding her pink folder to her chest as she leaned against the same wall he had been leaning against.

"i knew i'd find you here," she said, the fluorescent lights above softening her already-gentle features, casting a warm glow that blended with the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the nearby windows.

megumi grunted in response. it was enough to show that he acknowledged her comment. she understood that well enough.

"what do you need?" he asked her, flinching when a random cymbal crash had sounded from inside the hall. he could bet his two dogs it was because of you. "i'm not doing your stats homework again."

"no, silly," she laughed, nudging his side and relishing in the slight hiss he'd let out — yuji had tackled him hard on the field during practice, driving his weight into megumi's side and slamming him mercilessly against the grass. the impact bit deeper than he'd expected, the sharp sting lingering even an hour later. "i was gonna ask you a question."

"ok."

...

"you're not gonna ask me what it is?"

"you're the one that needs to ask the question here."

"stop acting like aunt maude, megumi," scolded tsumiki, making an attempt to pinch his side. he slapped her hand away, cross and displeased with her playful nature. "anyway," she sighed, apparently having given up on trying to tease him any further than he'd let her, "don't get mad at me when i ask this."

he looked down at her, a feeling that still felt strange. only this past summer had he finally outgrown her, and after spending most of his life looking up to meet her gaze, he still wasn't quite used to the new perspective.

he didn't like the look she was sporting. it was something in between a sensible smile and a mischievous grin.

"don't say anything to make me mad," he shot back, brows furrowed.

tsumiki held her file closer to her chest, like a mother protectively cradling her baby.

"let me say a quick prayer before i ask," she said, meeting his sharp gaze with a small frown. "what? i don't wanna get attacked when i ask."

he scowled. "i'm not gonna atta—"

but she wasn't paying attention, her eyes closed as she cupped her hands and whispered her prayers into it. megumi could have sworn he heard her mutter something along the lines of 'protect me from the evil standing right next to me'. if he hadn't been taught that disrupting a prayer was a form of evil, he would have hit her twice on the head by now, but the last thing he needed to do was prove a point.

once she'd blown into her chest, she faced the wall opposite them with a smile, letting out a small breath.

"that was stupid," he muttered, unimpressed.

"didn't ask," she hummed, before clearing her throat. "are you interested in anyone?"

he was wrong — perhaps she did need that prayer after all.

megumi peered down at her, a brow raised, judging.

his usual sharp composure faltered for a moment as he processed her question. a frown twitched at the edge of his mouth, and his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to decipher the motive behind her sudden curiosity. this wasn't like her usual teasing — it had an edge of genuine interest that unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite place.

"what the hell?" he demanded, visibly disgusted and audibly confused.

"you're making this bigger than it needs to be," she huffed, bringing a hand up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "it's just as simple as any other question."

"except you've never asked me that before," he retorted, glowering as she shrugged, her eyes tracing the display board, the one with your image on it.

her expression shifted to a thoughtful calm, taking in each photo and flyer pinned neatly on the cork surface, her fingers tapping lightly against the folder she held, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

megumi didn't understand what was so amusing about her question.

it was confusing; it made no sense.

"so?" she prompted, nudging his side for the second time that day; he shrugged her off, annoyed. "is there any girl you like? any girl you think you like?"

"what's it to you?" he interrogated, placing his helmet over his head to block her out of his peripheral vision. maybe if she wasn't being so annoying, he wouldn't have to do that.

she didn't hesitate when she answered him.

"i'm asking because of an event," said tsumiki, and as she spoke, the sound of shuffling had penetrated megumi's thick helmet, entering his ears, prompting him to turn and glance down at her to see what she was doing. from the lines on his helmet, he could see her shuffling through pages in her folder, before eventually pulling out a purple flyer and offering it to him. sceptically and suspiciously, he took it. "'cause i'm organising it, i get vip tickets for friends and family. i wanted to give you one, and if you have anyone in mind, give her one too. but you're being so secretive."

"i'm not being secretive," said megumi, barely reading the flyer's contents. he was sure he wasn't going to go anyway, he never usually did anyway. he handed it back to her, waving it when she wouldn't take it. "i just don't have anyone."

she sniffed, pushing the flyer back towards him. "could've just said that."

"you were being suspicious," he sneered, eyes narrowed as tsumiki shook her head at him, disagreeing. he clicked his tongue, disapproving. "i don't even go to any of the school stuff anyway."

tsumiki raised a brow at him, visibly sceptical.

"what about homecoming?" she suggested, and megumi was thrown back in time to when he'd been struggling to avoid satoru and his 'bonding time' (which was essentially just picking out expensive suits together). "winter formal? spring fling? the spring formal last year?"

he remembered all of those quite well. still, he remained stagnant.

"i only went to those 'cause y/n dragged me to them."

tsumiki reached up and knocked on his helmet. he scowled and harshly moved her hand away, failing once, twice, three times before she finally stopped.

"did y/n hold a gun to your head?" she asked him, watching as he slowly took his helmet off and shook his hair out of his eyes. he was in need of a haircut soon, he thought to himself, reminded of his mom who politely nagged at him every day about it.

"mentally, she did," he commented quietly. he locked gazes with tsumiki and looked away not even a second later. "does."

a flicker of thought crossed megumi's mind. he recalled the multiple times he'd caught glimpses of tsumiki with kamo throughout the day — small moments, brief exchanges, but enough to catch his attention. she'd been smiling, animated even, in a way that felt unusual.

he acted on this prickle of curiosity, brows furrowed.

"are you taking anyone?" he questioned, looking down at the flyer to clarify. "to the... choir?"

tsumiki shook her head, a look of mild frustration pained over her face. "ever since satoru and your dad scared derek off last year, i... i stopped looking."

megumi raised a brow at her, very clearly critical of her hesitant response. "you stopped looking or they stopped approaching you?"

tsumiki's usual warmth seemed dimmed, her kind expression weighed down with a mix of weariness and irritation, brows knitted slightly with a faint line of frustration formed between them as her gaze shifted to the side, avoiding megumi's probing look.

"they stopped approaching me," she admitted with a sigh, but she was smiling, so megumi assumed it wasn't a massive bother.

not when she seemed to be hitting it off with kamo, apparently...

"so why do you keep talking to kamo?" he asked, straightforward and blunt. there was, in his view, no point beating around the bush or sugarcoating it. it would take too long for her to explain and equally longer for him to just get to the point. he did not have the time nor the patience for that.

there was a gentleness in her face, but it looked stretched thin, as if the weight of the question had caught up, stunning her momentarily. her lips parted briefly, like she wanted to explain, but ultimately came to the decision where in the end, she would not.

"wouldn't you like to know?" she settled on saying, her lip curled.

it irritated megumi.

"i don't," he lied, his voice distant and quiet.

"kamo's a nice guy," said tsumiki, as though trying to feed him this information little by little, like a child being monitored with how much candy they consume. "a really nice guy, actually."

megumi did not particularly agree with this, but he was not going to communicate that with tsumiki, not when she seemed so starstruck by him. megumi didn't even think she felt this strongly about derek carter from the basketball team; it rubbed him the wrong way, knowing that he might have to see one of his football teammates — other than yuji — turn up to dinner at satoru's every once in a while on fridays.

even so, he didn't necessarily believe kamo to be a bad guy.

he was decent: megumi respected his ability to never indulge in gossip as well as the company he always chose to keep — except for todo, that was something he silently critiqued.

but kamo and tsumiki...?

odd pairing, he thought to himself.

"he can hold a conversation better than i thought he could," tsumiki added thoughtfully, slightly nodding to herself as she spoke. "and... he's considerate."

megumi averted his gaze back to the display board, now uninterested.

"will i be seeing him around more?" he asked her without actually looking at her properly. he wasn't in support of this odd pairing, but if tsumiki genuinely liked noritoshi kamo, he wasn't going to actively try and prevent them from happening.

that did not, however, mean he couldn't silently judge them in his head.

and perhaps verbally with nobara, too, since she did feel quite strongly about his teammate ("he acts like he doesn't care about anything, with that 'i don't care' attitude, but look at his face! he's trying too hard, so he definitely does!").

"possibly," said tsumiki, smiling gracefully.

as the muffled sound of voices grew louder, both tsumiki and megumi instinctively turned their heads towards the theatre hall doors, where a steady flow of students began spilling into the corridor. the doors swung open, and megumi's gaze sharpened as he and tsumiki lightly searched the crowd, his eyes moving over familiar faces until they landed on you, standing and walking amidst your classmates.

you approached the two with a smile.

"ooh, tsumiki, you walking home with us?" you asked brightly, adjusting the strap of your bag as you shoved your papers inside. judging from the format of the text, megumi assumed it was a script for another play.

"mamaguro invited me over for dinner," she explained casually, "but she said absence isn't an option, so..."

"ugh, i'm jealous," you frowned, gesturing to your bag to clarify what you meant. "i want to come over too but i have a script to memorise by next week, and i need help with the pre-calc homework kento gave us today."

tsumiki's eyes darted between you and megumi, her lips pursed as though she had been missing something significant.

"megumi's... not able to help you with that?" she asked, her voice an octave higher with apparent confusion.

you raised your brows. "no, he can."

megumi aided you. "i just won't."

tsumiki's head tilted ever so slightly, and a faint crease appeared on her forehead, the kind she only got when she was trying to piece together a particularly baffling puzzle. her lips then parted as if to ask something, but she hesitated, scanning megumi's indifferent expression and your casual one with a slow shake of her head.

"i'm not gonna ask," she settled on saying, before you noticed the flyer in megumi's hand.

leaning in closer, you scanned the leaflet's front, eyebrows lifting in genuine surprise. the fact that megumi of all people was holding onto one left you momentarily speechless, lips parted as you took in the big, bold text, still a little stunned.

"what's that?" you asked, barely waiting for an answer before reading it aloud. "'choir day: join us and learn the trombone' ... you're actually going to that?"

"no," hestated, looking down and shaking the flyer at tsumiki as though he'd forgotten that he had been holding it. "i'd even pick your stupid plays over some choir show here."

you nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to remind him of who he was speaking to.

"they're not stupid, they're fun," you corrected him with a scowl, pleased when he stepped away from you and threw you a light, warning glare.

tsumiki clicked her fingers at him, making him turn his head and his attention over to her, attentive, like a dog.

"and you're sure you're not taking anyone?" she'd said, brows raised as she opened her folder and tapped at a sheet of paper in it.

you perked up, nonplussed. "you're taking someone?"

"no," he snapped, turning to tsumiki again with a glare. the three of you had started walking out of the hallway now, making your way to the exit. "i told you, i'm not into any girls."

tsumiki, placed in between the two of you, nodded thoughtfully. "ah, so you swing the other way?"

without hesitation, megumi gave her a firm shove, sending her stumbling sidewards — right into you.

"don't be stupid," he'd said over your loud protests, planting his feet firmly onto the ground as tsumiki stood behind him, regaining her balance.

"no, tsumiki, he likes princess jasmine," you told her over his shoulder, watching her enthusiastically nod in agreement.

"i don't —"

"that's why little you's cheeks turned red when her outer robe fell off —" you teased as you walked right up to him, prepared to attack because of his careless shove against tsumiki. 

but he was one step ahead of you.

just as you moved to strike, he planted the helmet on your head and delivered a solid smack to its top. the sound reverberated around you, ringing in your ears, while a dull ache radiated from the point of impact.

your brain had too much fog to focus on what he was now doing to tsumiki. all you could see, through several hard blinks and the stupid face mask lines, was megumi's back, which meant that he was now towering over tsumiki and launching a range of attacks.

you had an idea:

bending over, his helmet now in line with his behind, you charged forward like an angry bull, your head colliding with his back (a stiff one, you had to mention) repeatedly.

"what the—" you heard him grunt.

you couldn't see it, but he was looking down at you from over his shoulder, confused and inwardly concerned with your choice of attack.

it did hurt though, so he'd have to put a stop to it anyway, and that would've been easy to do if tsumiki wasn't now tugging on his hair and stomping on his foot.

from the far end of the hallway, a teacher spotted the scuffle and rushed forward, his expression quickly shifting from irritation to outright disbelief. apparently, he'd first assumed it was a classic tussle between a group of rowdy boys; the vigorous shoving, stomping, and grunts gave that impression from a distance, but as he got closer, he had blinked in surprise, recognising that the three of you involved were a pair of girls and only one boy.

"right, just... walk home safely, you three," he'd said, eyeing megumi's creased jersey and dishevelled hair with a grimace. when his eyes darted to you, the helmet still on your head, he nodded. "bye... y/n."

"no i'm megumi, can't you tell —"

"let's go," megumi grumbled, gripping onto your elbow and tugging you forward with a little more force than necessary.

you shoved him off and walked beside tsumiki again.

the rest of the journey home was filled with collective bullying, laughter, and a disgruntled megumi who vowed to keep you and tsumiki away from each other at all costs. you were rubbing off on her and he didn't like it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

toji shoved satoru off of him once the door had been kicked shut behind him, his chest puffed out in an attempt to appear more intimidating, but he knew the childish man wouldn't flinch even if he bit at him.

"you touch me again and you're gonna end up in a hospital bed you white haired —"

"shut up," satoru groaned, his words drawn out in apparent exhaustion.

toji did not like this demand, parting his lips to say something — no doubt some sort of threat — but satoru had been quicker: for the first time since toji's known him, he was jumping straight to the point.

"look, i don't like you, and you don't like me —"

"incorrect," said toji, arms folded over his chest, though his fists were still clenched where they rested on each side of his waist.

satoru grimaced.

that look — staring back at him with one side of his upper lip lifted, his brows raised and contorted, his nose scrunched. toji wanted nothing more than to punch it right off, a clean swipe.

however, it seemed that he didn't have to, for his face had shifted into one he recognised even better...

the cocky one.

he hated that one even more.

"see, i'm flattered, fushiguro," he began, grinning as toji's nails cut right into each of his palms, leaving half moon crescent marks behind, "really, i am, but i have a wife —"

toji's nostrils flared dangerously.

"shut-the-fuck-up-before-i-shove-my-fist-in-your-fucking-mouth-you-cocky-fucking-bastard —"

satoru raised his hands in mock surrender.

"woah there buddy —"

"you got it fucking twisted," snapped toji, stepping up to the other male with a menacing glare. "i hate your guts. i wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire — and even now, i wanna squash you where you stand, like a bug. consider yourself lucky my wife likes you —"

"i am not the enemy here!" satoru interrupted him loudly.

without breaking eye contact with the enraged, bulky man before him, he pointed at the door behind him where laughter and chatter sounded from members of the gathering.

"we have a common enemy out there. and just this once... aside from the time the serial-hump-er was out for us men... i offer a truce to get rid of the brat."

derek carter was, by all outward appearances, exactly the kind of guy most people would be thrilled to see with someone like tsumiki. he was relentlessly polite, with a clean-cut look and a warm, ready smile that seemed designed to put parents at ease. always prepared, he carried her books without needing to be asked, laughed at all the right moments, and brought flowers to meet the family — not that toji or satoru could find anything wrong with him, on paper.

and maybe that was the problem.

he was too perfect.

perfectly timed smiles, perfect grades, perfect compliments... to toji and satoru, he seemed like he was performing rather than being genuine, and that subtle insincerity — whether real or perceived — set them both on edge. neither of them bought it, and both of them, despite their very obvious differences, couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't quite what he appeared to be.

toji's defensive posture shifted, shoulders loosening as satoru's offer had started to sink in. his glare had softened, the tension in his clenched fists releasing as he glanced from satoru to the closed door behind him, where derek's too-perfect laughter rang out.

for a moment, toji just scowled at the ground, processing, and satoru had assumed he had lost the deal, that they would not be able to collectively get rid of the perfect brat of a date that tsumiki had brought out. but then, toji looked up again, and gave him a quick, almost reluctant nod.

satoru gave him a toothy grin, which was not returned.

"what did you have in mind?" toji began, his voice gruff with obvious reluctance.

"hate to say it, but i'm gonna have to be the brains behind this," said satoru, sounding all too pleased with himself.

if toji hadn't been so pissed with the sight of that carter kid, he might have actually spent time being suspicious with the white-haired freak. what if he was setting him up again? it certainly wouldn't have been the first time...

"believe me, i'd love to be in on the action too," he continued, still smiling that dopy smile, "but i'm a teacher at the high school. got a rep to keep up. and... i could lose my job, obviously..." he glanced at toji with a small, cheeky grin. "you wouldn't be able to relate —"

"— get to the fucking point —"

"— all right."

the plan had been made, enacted, and even altered slightly during it.

the chaos that followed was a carefully orchestrated disaster. satoru's brilliant plan had required toji to bring back a bothersome personality trait he had put at rest from meeting his wife onwards, turning an already uncomfortable event into a whirlwind.

plates clattered, chairs tipped, and the silverware clinked at the most inopportune moments, all while derek had tried to keep his composure, only to grow more visibly unnerved as the night went on. between satoru's subtle, deadpan remarks that derek barely caught, and toji's unexpected, pointed comments that cut through any remaining calm, derek found himself squirming, second-guessing every word. and when toji made a point of 'accidentally' standing too close, arms crossed, looming like a silent bouncer, that had been the final straw.

tsumiki's date excused himself with a pale face, disappearing through the door as fast as he could without actually running.

in turn, tsumiki had not spoken to either of them again for a whole, entire week.

at least the brat was gone without any legal reinforcements.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

notes: i hope you enjoyed this chapter (congrats again reinaswrldddd) my wifeee 🎀💓 i hope it pleases you, i hope you become rich and rule the world (gonna need it after trump’s win 😐). you’re the best and ily (did you guys know that she’s my wife? 😱❤️‍🔥)

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© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

[stolenlandsshitposts]

The sixth month of the calendar is Sarenith, and it's no surprise that this midsummer month is one of great importance to the followers of Sarenrae- 10 Sarenith sees the culmination of a month long summer festival in the holiday of Burning Blades, marked by a ceremonial dance with weapons dipped in pitch.

I've missed the mark on the date a bit, but had a lot of fun drawing this anyway! Thanks to @mountainashfae for letting me borrow Vio for this.

For fun, two different stages of the lines.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Operation Exemies to Lovers | Cregan Stark

A/N: Now yall know i have not written and finished a fic in a hot minute so sorry if this reads a bit wonky. Yk I'm an enemies to lovers and exes to lovers girl, so why not combine them both into a modern!cregan stark fic? Also, this is dialogue heavy as that's kind of my thing, if it's not yours, welpt keep scrolling boo I aint mad!. I also fixed the inc*st family tree so you'll see that in this as well (i'll prob keep it for future modern AUs). Anyways lmk what you think and enjoy! Also, I suck at summaries so I pull quotes from my fics, sorry not sorry pookies

Summary: “So y’know those sappy novels Hel’s always reading, anyways I asked her about them and she had one where the two main characters were like totally at ends with each other but their friends were like ‘nah they should be smashing’ so we think, based on our research and our scholarly source-Helaena, we should force them to be around each other until they finally talk it out! Or well, y’know-f*ck it out”

Warnings: cussing, spelling and grammar errors (sue me!), kissing, mentions of smut/allusions to smut but no smut, arguing, Alyssane Blackwood slander (sorry girl), somewhat mean!reader, this is an AU where Aegon's not a bad guy!!!! just a clown <3, mentions of an ill parent, Baela be hitting Aegon (he earned it!), Aemond is still missing an eye sorry to the Aemond girls

Word Count: 6.4k (period I stuck to keeping it short and sweet)

Modern!Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

“He’s staring at you again” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, doing your best to focus on highlighting the passages about the few Westerosi Civil Wars that had happened centuries ago. It was already difficult enough to focus in the crowded library, midterms were killing everyone. 

It wasn’t a shock for the once quiet and almost empty library to be packed, especially with student athletes who were desperately catching up on their studies in attempts to pass all of their midterms, write endless essays, and practically beg their professors for extra credit via email. 

You should’ve been able to focus on the task at hand, studying with your best friends Baela and Rhaena for your upcoming history midterm, the exam itself would focus heavily on the several majors wars that shaped westerosi society as a whole, and would even include the transition from government leadership as a monarchy into a democracy. 

Hell you’d even have to describe what was once known as the ‘Iron Throne’ and its historical significance. Truthfully the large metal hunk of junk was now sitting in the King’s Landing Red Keep Memorial Museum.

Usually the library was the easiest place for the three of you to study, it wasn’t as loud as your fourth floor flat in one of the student apartment buildings off campus, it was usually pretty clean and well kept, plus every resource you could possibly need was somewhere within the large building. 

However today, your usually comfortable red leather-lined chair felt stiff and was making you hot, not to mention the lack of air flow and increased temperature due to the amount of body heat on each floor, then the lights were either too bright or too dim, and all you wanted to do was slam the books shut, grab your laptop and leave.

“Let him stare.” you muttered as you tried to keep your gaze on the text in front of you, however it was getting increasingly difficult as a very specific pair of eyes were practically burning a hole into your side. 

Gods, he was so obnoxious.

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to hold onto the grudge against him, of course he totally earned it! I’m not downplaying your emotions but anytime he’s around you stiffen up like a virgin afraid of dick” your jaw dropped at Baela’s words, now staring at her, brows furrowed in shock.

“Baela! You can’t say things like that” Rhaena almost immediately swatted at her sister’s arm, shaking her head before tucking one of her loose locks behind her ear. “You really take after father sometimes.” 

Baela simply shrugged, glancing back at the two tables that were usually empty, now they were filled with six of the school’s hockey players, all spread apart with a plethora of books, laptops, pens, and notepads covering the tables. That’s also not counting all of their bags laying on the floor besides their chairs. 

“I get that you two broke up on not so good terms, but you should be showing him that you don’t care about him! Not that he makes you so angry you’re about to explode like a bomb in Mario Party”.

With that Baela turned her gaze back to her laptop, however at the sound of several texts chiming in at once to both Baela and Rhaena’s phones, you knew that their cousins had texted them once again. It made sense that they’d all shared a group chat, especially considering how close in age they were, and how large the Targaryen/Hightower/Velaryon family was. 

Of course the first time Baela had broken down their family tree you were incredibly confused. Her mother Laena Velaryon was married to Daemon Targaryen, who happened to be the uncle to her cousins Jace, Luke, and Joffrey’s mother Rhaenyra. 

Now, Rhaenyra was married to Dr. Strong (or just Harwin as he’d asked you to call him once at a family gathering you’d been invited to, to which you quickly declined as he was your Literature professor), but based on the Targaryen’s political status within Westeros, their sons took their mother’s last name, not their father. 

Then comes Aegon and Aemond, now truthfully you’d met Aegon your second week of classes a few years ago when he’d caught you off guard, asked for your number, then got mad when you’d ghosted him after finding out he had a girlfriend! (Shame on him, truly). But you actually ended up being pretty good friends with the goof. 

Anyways, Aegon and Aemond were the children of Rhaenyra’s best friend, and now sister-in-law Alicent Hightower who married Rhaenyra’s only brother Baelon Targaryen. 

It’s also important to remember that throughout this entire family tree, which was in fact drawn out on construction paper for you, Alicent and Baelon also had two other children, Daeron and Halaena, both of them attending Sunspear University together. Then of course Rhaenyra and Dr.Strong (Harwin), have two much smaller sons, Aegon and Viserys, which was even more confusing considering you’d already met an Aegon.

Rhaena and Baela shared a look, and it was a look that worried you, so of course instead of being rational and brushing it off, you clenched your jaw as you slowly turned around, making eye contact with none other than your ex-boyfriend who’d been leaning his head against his hand and staring at you with what could only be described as a mournful lovesick expression.

You rolled your eyes, quickly turning back around before anyone else would look at you and do something that would probably piss you off. 

It also didn’t help that the cousins texting Baela and Rhaena were also seated at the table with your ex boyfriend. 

“Jace said that Cregan wants to talk to you but you blocked him, I don’t think you want to know what Aegon said, but it involved an eggplant emoji and a bed” you rolled your eyes, letting out a deep sigh while sitting up straight and shaking your head.

“He’s apologized a million times and has yet to tell me why he decided to go out of his way to not only break things off with me and tell me he still loved me in the same damn sentence, then go out the same night and end up on Aegon-Aegon of all people’s instagram story sucking face with that Blackwood bitch while she was on his lap.” 

You let out a cynical laugh of sorts, rolling your eyes once again. 

“Tell Cregan Stark that I’d rather fuck Aegon after one of his alley-way vomit sprees than ever talk to him again” however, before you could focus back on your studies, an amused laugh came from behind you before the chair next to you was pulled out, only for you to meet the gaze of Aegon Targaryen himself, a lopsided smile on his face with his brows wiggling in a playful suggestive manner.

“Well if I knew the easiest way to get you into my bed was to go drinking until I’m sick then I would’ve invited you out sooner baby” with that he leaned closer while making kissing noises, only to be met with your hand shoving his face away.

“Aeg, for the last time, she doesn’t want you like that” he feigned hurt at Rhaena, sliding back into the chair with his hand over his heart. 

“You wound me dear cousin! You wound me!” then he sat up straight, now looking back at you “so I was sent over here as a trusted messenger. My boy back there, you know him quite well, if y’know what I mean-” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down again, then you shoved him “-anyways, Cregan has been like all sulky and heartbroken and he really misses you. And he doesn’t want anything to do with Alysanne! She came onto him!, so can you give him another shot?”

With that you simply shook your head, quickly packing your things up while scoffing. 

“Tell your “boy back there”-” you spoke with air quotations “-that if he really gave a fuck about me, he shouldn’t have dumped me after two years for no god damn reason, then fucked that Blackwood bitch-who by the way is a fucking whore!” 

Your outburst was met with the looks of many, Rhaena quickly clearing her throat watching as you packed your things away. “What she means to say is, she doesn’t want to talk to him. I think it’s too fresh still”

Aegon scoffed “it’s been four months people! Four months! The summer ended, it’s a new semester, I think she can talk to him now” he glanced around the table, eyes widening as he watched Baela grasp quite the hefty textbook while glaring at him.

“Baela don’t hit me! I’m just saying! Listen-” but before he could finish you’d already gotten up and mumbled that you’d see them at home while you walked away.

Aegon paused, watching as you walked away, blatantly checking you out for a few moments, then you’d disappeared. He then turned around and motioned for someone to come to the table, this is what led both Jace and Luke to walk across the room and now sit where you were sitting and in the last empty seat of the table.

“Listen, we’re all tired of being caught in the middle of this awkward divorce alright. So we came up with a plan!” Baela shook her head while Rhaena sighed slightly.

“No offense Aeg, but your plans are always horrible, need I remind you of Aemond’s missing eyeball?” Luke winced slightly, remembering the day he’d accidentally hit Aemond in the eye with a firewood poker when swinging it behind him.

Truthfully, Luke had no idea Aemond had entered the room when he and Aegon were ‘dueling’ one another, however he’d felt his poker hit something, and he heard Aemond’s loud scream of pain. 

They’d all been kids when that happened, and to make it worse it occurred on their grandfather’s birthday when everyone had traveled to King’s Landing for a large birthday dinner/family holiday.

“She’s got a point there Aegon, but-guys-we all came up with the idea together!” Luke placed his hands on the shoulder of his cousin and his brother, smiling widely while Baela and Rhaena both shook their heads in disappointment.

“Okay, you win, but if the idea is bad, Baela’s going to smack Aegon with that textbook, so pray it’s not bad” they all nodded, Aegon scooting back slightly.

“So y’know those sappy novels Hel’s always reading, anyways I asked her about them and she had one where the two main characters were like totally at ends with each other but their friends were like ‘nah they should be smashing’ so we think, based on our research and our scholarly source-Helaena, we should force them to be around each other until they finally talk it out! Or well, y’know-fuck it out”

He paused to take a quick breath “But we can’t let them in on the plan, otherwise Cregan’s gonna be all like ‘oh my god no she hates me, the love of my life hates me I can’t torture her, blah blah blah, I’m so nice and honorable, blah blah’ and she’s gonna be like ‘fuck that, I’ll kill him for fucking that Blackwood bitch and dumping me for no god damn reason’. Also I don’t think he ever fucked Alysanne-but I did-niether here nor there though!” 

Jace and Luke looked at Baela and Rhaena as if they were waiting to be yelled at by their mother, meanwhile Aegon smiled and nodded after his long winded explanation.

Rhaena spoke first “y’know honestly, your impression of her is pretty spot on.” Baela nodded her head in agreement before adding in “but if this doesn’t work, and she finds out, she’ll want to kill all of you and Cregan. I’m sure you all have realized being on her shit list isn’t exactly the best”

Jace nodded, glancing back at Cregan who was finally focusing on his statistics work with a stoic expression on his face. “Listen, if it doesn’t work and she kicks our asses that’s fine, but we at least have to try! I mean come on Rhae you told me that she cries over him still! And he’s no better. There might not be tears but he’s so long winded and mopey”

He then sighed, patting Luke on the back “I think this is our best shot. I mean c’mon they’re some of your guys' closest friends, and Winterfell over there’s my best friend that I’m not related to-oddly enough they’re pretty rare these days. They used to be so happy together! Now look at them both”

Baela sighed, nodding her head as she finally set the books in her hands down “she’s definitely not really herself anymore. Maybe if it doesn’t work, then at least they’ll both get closure from their relationship”.

Aegon smiled, nodding rapidly again “see! You guys get it!. Also don’t tell Aemond either, y’know he’s too ‘I’ve got a stick up my ass’ sometimes. We can call it operation-uh what’s the book trope that Helaena called it again-one second everyone!” he paused, grabbing his phone from his pocket before quickly calling his sister.

“Hey Hel, yeah yeah I’m good, what did you call that book again! The one where they were like forced to be around eachother then fuck it out and get married and shit?” 

Several hundred miles away, Helaena was grasping her nose bridge as she let out a deep sigh, her brother truly was a character.

“Oh-okay! Got it-thanks so much Hel, love you too! Give Daeron my love and remind him to wrap it up with those Dornish baddies!” with that he hung up the phone before meeting Baela’s disgusted glare.

“You’re so gross, Aeg. And stop saying the word baddies-you sound so cringey!” he simply shrugged at her.

“Anyways, now that we’re done being rude and judgemental to our baddie eldest cousin who’s super smart, funny, and beautiful, we’ll call it operation enemies to lovers!” 

Rhaena raised a brow “wouldn’t it actually be exes to lovers? Since they’re exes? I guess they might also be enemies based on the way she wants to wring his neck-and not how she used to-” with that her eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Jace sighed “don’t worry Rhae, we already know about the shit he let her do to him. Young love, what can I say” 

Aegon nodded his head, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively once again, then he slightly elbowed Luke, who met his gaze with a laugh before they both spoke in unison “kinky innit”.

“Anyways-are we doing this or not? I’ve got a history midterm to study for and you three are interrupting it, and it’s bad enough that Aegon already made the smartest person we know leave” It was clear that Baela was losing her patience.

“Oh come on Bales! Y’know if you’re still interested I can set you up with ol Benji over there, heard he’s a freak in the she-” there it was, the book smacking him in the face “-ow Baela! Jesus! You’re just like your dad! Mean and ever so beautiful to look at” he winked.

“Gross man, she’s our cousin!” he shrugged “didn’t stop our ancestors, okay fine-fine! I didn’t mean it okay! Shit. you all are so violent. The blood of the dragon I guess”.

-

Three days have passed and the TarVelTower group chat had been in constant communication about ‘operation exemies to lovers’ with the additional confused replies from those that were not present in the library that day.

They were planning a game night, it was something they’d all done in the past, inviting their other friends to come along as well for drinks and a night of utter tomfoolery. Baela and Rhaena had done everything but swear on the Old Gods themselves that Cregan wouldn’t be there, meanwhile Jace, Luke, and Aegon had to practically beg Cregan to come to Jace’s for the game night.

It was also a plus that most of them lived in the same building. Dragonstone University wasn’t that large, not compared to other schools such as Sunspear, Driftmark, or even Harrenhall-although it was rumored that Harrenhal U was in fact haunted, that’s probably what brought so many to the school in the first place.

Baela and Rhaena had to drag you out of your bed after your post-class nap and usher you into the shower, stating that you ‘stunk of outside’, which was rather rude considering your only classes today were virtual. 

They’d mentioned the game night several times, and each time you asked if Cregan would be there, they’d said no, which you found a bit odd considering Jace was literally his best friend and probably closest confidant. Maybe his father had come down from Winterfell again, but you were thankful that he wouldn’t be present to ruin your mood.

All you had to do was take the elevator up two floors, so all you did was shower and throw on a pair of sweats and one of Aegon’s many discarded team sweatshirts. It had his number on it and even after washing it what felt like a million times, it still smelled like his overly strong cologne that he claimed ‘the ladies love’.

He’d also told you that maybe you were an ogre for not loving it, which of course even further solidified your friendship with the moron (lovingly).

You took time to braid your hair, knowing that you’d probably wake up hungover without a want or a need to brush it, so this was just easier. Then you’d foregone makeup, knowing you truly didn’t care how people saw you, especially not your friends. 

Of course the one thing you’d always contemplated wearing sat on your desk, the thin gold chain adorned with a small charm in the shape of a howling wolf. It was as if it sat mocking you because almost everyday you’d stare at it while getting ready.

You’d worn it everyday for a year after Cregan gifted it to you. He randomly showed up at your door one day, slightly out of breath, a wide smile on his face with his disheveled hair pulled back. One hand rubbed against his short beard, while the other held a small black gift bag. He looked as if he’d run here, then was contemplating the decision to run in the first place.

Then he’d kissed you gently, a smile you rarely wore now, adorned your face then.

When you invited him in, he was quick to follow, shutting and locking your door behind him while you made your way to the small kitchen, grabbing him something to drink as he caught his breath.

Then as you spun around to hand him the drink, he held the bag out for you, practically forcing you to open it (it wasn’t forceful at all, rather when you declined opening it immediately, he didn’t hesitate to place the strings of the bag between his teeth before picking you up, then plopping you down onto the couch, soft giggles leaving your lips when he climbed right on top of you.).

You remembered him watching as you opened it, he held himself up overtop you, while you easily pulled the small jewelry box out of the packaging, then when you opened it he looked almost nervous, as if you wouldn’t like it.

But you’d kissed him, pulling him down into your lips, thanking him between rushed kisses. 

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it before grasping the necklace and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. Out of sight, out of mind, you’d tell yourself-until you’d go looking for a pen and see it again.

Rhaena’s voice knocked you out of your thoughts completely, she stood in your doorframe, her posture a little too straight, which would’ve normally thrown you off, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when you were trying to shake off the feeling of heartbreak.

“You ready? I’ve got the snacks already packed to bring up, you’ve just got to grab our blankets. Baela’s already there helping set up. Aeg said he’d give her twenty bucks if she’d actually arrive earlier than him for once” you laughed at that, shaking your head slightly.

It was no secret that Aegon and Baela were incredibly competitive, and as cousins, they had what could only be described as a sibling rivalry, always trying to one up one another when they could, and making stupid bets over random things.

You actually liked that they were all so close, when you’d befriended Rhaena, you never thought that she and her sister would come with a large family that would welcome you in with open arms.

“Yeah, just, let me-um-get my shoes, yeah my shoes. Sorry” you were mumbling and stuttering as you walked to the shoe rack beside your door, slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers before following Rhaena to the living room, grasping the small pile of throw blankets before the both of you left your apartment. She was quick to lock the door, then you both headed upstairs.

You were still technically early when you arrived, and as you entered the apartment Aegon was handing Baela a $20 bill, while she smirked. Luke was laying on one of the couches on his phone, Jace was putting drinks in the fridge with the help of Benji who honestly looked happy to be there. Meanwhile Aemond sat reading whatever random philosophical book he’d chosen for the week, and to your surprise, Helaena was pulling what smelled like cookies out of the oven.

“Hel! You’re here!” she smiled when she saw you, placing the tray down before meeting your embrace. “Yea, I actually was visiting my parents and Aegon picked me up earlier.” you smiled at that, you enjoyed her company, even if it was a rare occurrence. 

By the time everyone was settled in, around forty-five minutes had passed, and everything was nice. For the first time in a while you weren’t on edge, which was definitely noticeable, and you’d actually managed to relax into the large bean bag below you. Even if it did remind you of a certain someone.

Then, it was as if you’d summoned the asshole himself.

Jace was quick to shoot up and walk to the door, glancing at his phone nervously. Then he opened the door, nervously laughing for a few moments.

Then you spotted him. Not before Aegon, who was already tipsy, had managed to shoot up from his spot on the ground “Cregan! Glad you could make it man!”.

Baela and Rhaena watched as you let out a deep sigh, it was clear you didn’t want to ruin the night, so you simply turned to face away from the door, burying yourself further into the bean bag, covering yourself in the throw blanket as much as you could.

It’s important to mention that the bean bag happened to be big enough for two people, and for a long time, it’s where you would sit with Cregan, well technically, given his size, you’d be cuddled up together, and now, as his gaze found you ignoring him on that bean bag, the gloomy cloud that followed him around had resurfaced.’

After a few tense moments of silence, everyone commenced what they were doing.

Aegon, still standing, held up a deck of cards.

“For today’s game night we’re gonna need to partner up! Rhaena, you’re with me tonight! I need your smarticle particles!” you blinked slowly, Rhaena was usually your partner. Then you sat in silence as you watched everyone partner up.

Baela was shoved into Benji-literally shoved by Aegon. 

Aemond chose Luke as he stated their team needed “balance”, which actually made a lot of sense considering Aemond was always somewhat brooding, and Luke was a ray of sunshine.

Jace glanced between Helaena and Cregan, but when Baela shot him a pointed look-missed completely by you-he chose Helaena.

Which of course left you with the one person you wanted nothing to do with.

Rhaena tried breaking the ice, watching as Cregan awkwardly sat in the armchair beside the beanbag. “It looks like our old winning team is back together!” you were the first to scoff.

“Hey! They used to cheat!” you couldn’t stop yourself from responding to Aegon “actually he waited until we broke up for that”. As you spoke, everyone’s eyes widened, meanwhile you remained in your spot, staring at your phone, mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

However, as good of a guy that Cregan Stark is, you were the only person that was ever able to bring a different side out of him. You two rarely fought, but when you did, it was almost catastrophic and usually ended in very rough sex, or a heartwarming apology after ignoring one another for a few days. 

But you’d never broken up, you both took time to cool off in whatever way you needed.

Things are different now.

“For the last time, she came onto me! I’ve told you this thousands of times!” As he raised his voice, the frustration in his tone was evident, and his accent sounded thicker than usual-a key indicator that he was upset. So instead of backing down, you scoffed, now looking at him, fury evident on your features. 

“Yeah because a man your fucking size was so easily overpowered by her right! She just waltzed right up to you and beat you into submission or something?! Oh fuck you Cregan!” 

The two of you held eye contact, anger and frustration evident.

Aegon slowly sat down, leaning towards Jace and whispering ��I think it’s working”, meanwhile Jace shook his head, having been witness to the few fights that you’d actually had with Cregan in the past.

“What would you have wanted me to do, I was shitfaced! Was I supposed to shove her to the ground and tell her to go fuck herself?!” you nodded your head at that, now sitting up, even closer to him than before. He stared down at you as you stared up at him.

“Yeah actually, that’s the best fucking idea I’d say you’ve ever had!” he scoffed.

“We weren’t even together and you hold that against me! Still!” That's what sent you over the edge.

“You fucking dumped me for no god damn reason, told me you loved me, and then went and fucked that Blackwood Bitch! The same fucking day! As if I meant nothing to you, we were together for two years Cregan! Two fucking years!” 

He heard the crack in your voice, everyone did. As you stared at him, he could see the way your eyes glossed over, he knew you too well. He knew the tears were coming.

“I tried to talk to you-you didn’t wanna hear anything!” you shrugged, gathering your things as fast as you possibly could, now looking anywhere but him.

“You don’t fucking deserve to talk to me you asshole”. Then you stood up and did what you always do in these situations, you ran away and left.

He was left there in shock, staring at the door, jaw clenched while he watched you leave. 

“Well that’s one way to start a game night” 

“Aegon shut up!” cue the smack “Ow! Baela! Stop hitting me! Go hit Benji, he likes that shit!-ow! Seriously?! Jace and Luke, get your cousin!”

Then in unison “she’s your cousin too!”

And finally, Benji piped up “is she talking about my cousin?” 

Instead of watching you waltz away, Cregan stood up, grabbing his things and mumbling his own apologies. Then he left, he knew exactly where you lived, so instead of taking the elevator, he rushed down the stairs, trying to cool off. 

When he stood in front of your door, it felt like a routine, something his body was so used to. As if this was muscle memory for him.

Then he knocked, once. No response. 

Twice. Nothing. 

Three times-maybe third times a charm. Nothing.

He stood there, his forehead leaned against the door. Cregan Stark was not a man of regrets, hell he prided himself on actually being a good guy, he was raised to be respectful, to be kind, to be strong, Stark men were not assholes. They weren’t childish, they weren’t selfish, they were supposed to be honorable in every way.

But here he is, leaning against his ex-girlfriend’s door, still in love with her, full of regret for ever breaking things off. He hadn’t even explained himself. He wanted to-he’d tried that day, but you stormed out, tears that he’d caused flowing down your cheeks. 

Then he felt the door shift, and you stood there, wrapped in the same blanket, eyes red as you stared up at him.

Gods, all he wanted to do was tell you he loved you, that he needed you, that you made him feel whole.

“I don’t have any fight left in me Cregan. It’s been months, why can’t you just leave me alone.” 

“Because I love you.” you sighed, shaking your head “no you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have left me.” 

Sure you might’ve been being dramatic, but truthfully, you’d been heartbroken for months, following your breakup you’d lost ten pounds in two weeks. You’d never felt worse, and now, you were starting to feel alright, but it was no secret that there had been many nights full of tears, hugging a sweatshirt that you’d never washed, hoping to preserve the smell of his cologne.

“Can you just fucking listen to me for five minutes, please, I’ve been trying to talk to you for so long, just please-let me talk to you” you shrugged.

“Why?” he blinked a few times, taking a deep breath, running a hand through his hair-hair that you used to always touch, forcing him to sit between your thighs while you braid his hair, laughing when he’d complain, or when he’d do poses for you after you’d finished.

“I love you, I’ve never stopped loving you, I go to sleep at night and my dreams are filled with you, your smile, your laugh, even your fucking frowns. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. My heart fucking yearns for you. I can still feel the way you used to hold me, the way your breath felt against my neck, Gods, I think about you 24/7! I think about everything that I did, the way that I screwed up-I screwed us up. I love you! I’ll scream it from the fucking rooftops if that’s what you want!” 

You didn’t bother wiping away your tears, instead you stepped aside, leaving room for him to come in.

“You want to talk then talk.”

Then he walked inside, and shut the door the same way he used to. 

It truly was muscle memory, the way he walked to the couch and sat down in the same spot he was always in, then he waited for you.

He watched as you slowly sat next to him, still wrapped in a blanket like a sad burrito-Gods he spent too much time around Aegon. He didn’t hesitate to wipe the tears from under one of your eyes with his thumb, repeating the action on the other cheek.

“I didn’t want to break up with you. I never wanted to break up with you. My father’s-well he’s sick at home, I was going to leave, go back to Winterfell to take care of him, to take care of everyone. I just-I didn’t want you to be alone here, and I didn’t want to be your long distance boyfriend that you only ever see on fucking facetime. I just-I couldn’t do it.” 

You were silent, watching as he broke slightly, his voice cracking at the mention of his father, then at the mention of you being alone. 

It was no secret that Cregan and his father were close, you’d met Rickon Stark twice, and each time he’d embraced you with open arms and a warm heart. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he shrugged.

“Because, I’m supposed to be strong, I’m supposed to know my duty to my family, I’m supposed to be there for them, and it was hard-hard to say that I had to leave you for an unknown amount of time. I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to go a day without seeing you, you make me crazy in the best way, even now, whenever I see you on campus my heart practically flies out of my chest. Seeing you at my games, you’re like a ghost haunting me.” 

You slowly nodded, listening to him, watching the way he’d blink away his tears, the way his brows would furrow and jaw would clench slightly. 

“My dad’s the one who told me to stay. Told me not to throw my future away, that he’d be alright, y’know he’s a fighter-always has been. Told me to get my girl back-” he let out a small chuckle, the laugh laced in sadness “-but I think she doesn’t want me back. I went back up after we split up, just for a week, and he told me I was an idiot to leave it all behind. A full ride to Uni if I kept playing hockey? The girl of my dreams? Called me a bloke before he told me that he’s okay, he’s not letting go anytime soon” 

Cregan hadn’t been looking at you, he was focused on his hands, fists clenching slightly as he tried to swallow his own emotions. He hadn’t noticed the way that you’d been inching closer, not until your arms were wrapped around him, head leaning against his shoulder.

“You could’ve just told me from the beginning. I would’ve been your facetime girlfriend y’know? Would’ve figured out a way up there”

The familiarity of it all was what made him break, a small sob leaving his lips while you held him. It didn’t take long for you to shove him further into the couch and climb into his lap, the same way you used to when all you wanted to do was be as close to him as possible.

You held him, sat atop one of his thighs, arms wrapped around his shoulders while he cried into your shoulder. His arms gripping your waist, holding you against him. 

This is what should’ve happened all those months ago.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch” he laughed at that, and you felt his small smile. Meanwhile you ran a hand through his hair, fingers dancing through the dark locks before slowly running against his scalp. Your other hand traced small circles against his shoulder blade, you missed this.

You missed him.

“You weren’t a bitch-I probably deserved that.” you scoffed, moving back slightly, now holding eye contact with him as you brushed his tears away. “I was a bitch, I was the biggest bitch ever.”

He smiled, shaking his head “She really did come onto me. I did push her off-” you shushed him “I know. I believe you, I just-I dunno. I was hurt, then I saw that and it just stayed with me. I figured you dumped me for someone else, someone better-” he cut you off with a kiss.

It was so gentle, so soft, so sweet. Then he pulled away “there’s no one better than you for me. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. I just-I didn’t want to look weak and I didn’t want to leave you and-” you shushed him again, this time holding a hand against his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up Cregan Stark.” Your tone was light hearted as you shook your head “You’re not weak for having emotions, and you aren’t weak for wanting to care for those that you love. Don’t be stupid, we’ve both been stupid enough.” he nodded his head, then you slid her hand down, now caressing his face, your thumb lightly pulling on his bottom lip.

“I missed you” you smiled, a small giggle leaving your lips.

“Based on the way you stare, I could tell” he rolled his eyes “gotta commit your beauty to memory somehow” you slightly shoved his shoulder “you cornball!” 

“I missed you too loverboy”

Then you kissed him again, a slow, passionate kiss full of emotions, smiles, and even a few giggles. He then slid his hands under your sweatshirt, and you quickly pulled apart, letting him take it off, leaving you in just your bralette, then his lips were on yours again.

Before anything else could happen the front door swung open, startling you both, leading to Cregan’s grip against you tightening, meanwhile Aegon and Jace both hit the floor, while Luke stood there awkwardly, Rhaena shook her head, and Baela looked as if she was being held back by Benji. Meanwhile Helaena and Aemond were nowhere to be seen.

At least until they moved closer to the doorway, both of them shaking their heads and muttering “fucking Aegon” in unison.

“I told you guys it would work! Look at them! Kissing and close!” Aegon still spoke, even from the floor while Jace was on top of him. Then Jace slowly rolled off, letting out an ‘oof’. 

“Were you all eavesdropping?” Aegon blinked a few times at your question, glancing back at everyone else. Then you noticed the flush on Luke’s face and Rhaena’s awkward expression. Plus Jace was nodding his head. 

“Why did the Gods make him our brother?” Aemond shook his head “I truly do not know.” 

“So are you two back together now?” 

You sighed, standing up and grasping Cregan’s hand, pulling him towards your bedroom.

Cregan glanced back, still laughing at the scene “yes. Now please, fuck off mate”

With that you pulled him into your room and locked the door.

“They’re all the worst” he nodded his head at you, he’d expected you to pull him into your bed, however you walked towards your desk, rummaging through the different drawers until you found something. 

You glanced at him “can you help me with this”, while holding up the necklace.

“I’d be honored” you rolled your eyes, a bright smile on your face while he walked over, taking the necklace then as gently as possible, clasping it around your neck. Then he left a line of open mouthed kisses from below your right ear, to the edge of your shoulder. 

“I love you” his voice was soft, a whisper, almost as if it was a secret shared between the both of you.

You smiled, spinning around, one hand now on his face, the other on the back of his neck, fingers tracing circles through his hair. “I love you too”

-

Taglist:

Girl it dont exist LMAO

[fruittt-punchhh]

useless

Synopsis: you were called in for the night shift unexpectedly, and now have to spend the next - 5 hours - with the on-shift manager, Sukuna. based on this ask.

Characters: Sukuna x reader. Other jjk characters mentioned, but not a major point in the plot.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, manager! Sukuna (sorry, no four-armed, two-cocked royal monster for this one unfortunately), suggestiveness, cursing, mentions of female masturbation, public sex if you squint (outdoors), pet/affectionate names, age gap kiinda, big dick! Sukuna (duh), cunnilingus (m! receiving), probably other stuff i forgot.

Word count: 11.6k (holy SHIT)

Notes: it's time for a new arc on this page bitches. Toji is my one and only forever as you all know but everyone deserves to read ab sucking off their fave fictional character at your imaginary place of work :) @scorpiosugar

“Behind!” you hear someone yell from, well, behind you for the tenth time that hour. It was well past the restaurant’s usual rush hours, but customers were steadily pouring in through the large glass doors you could see through the crowd up front.

You had clocked in a few hours ago, you remind yourself, peering at the ticking clock overhead, silently willing the hour hand to reach ten o’clock already. Only three hours left, you cheer to yourself, trying to remind yourself how good your paycheck would look after picking up the extra shift. Someone had called out earlier, leaving the on shift manager to ring you much too early on your off day, all but begging for your assistance. Regrettably you agreed, knowing the extra money couldn’t hurt. It’s not like you had plans anyway, unfortunately.

Your usual on shift manager was Shoko, and while she ran a tight ship, being in the kitchen was fun with her. She made sure things were done properly, but she didn’t mind if you slacked off as long as your responsibilities were handled first. She even let you take smoke breaks, knowing damn well you didn’t smoke. She recognized your work ethic and wanted to keep you around as long as she could, even if that meant letting you dip out the back door for a fifteen minute breather every now and then.

“Y/n?!” You hear a booming voice to your left, snapping you out of whatever daze you were in.

“You gonna’ run the food or not?” Sukuna asks.

The dreaded Sukuna. You’ve barely worked with him before as he switched to nights almost right after you started, and you were on day shift. While you’ve never had any bad interactions with him, everyone at the restaurant said he was such a pain to work for, and you weren’t willing to find out just how much of a pain he could be today.

You were usually in the back of the restaurant, quickly prepping and cooking whatever stupid order came out of the noisy ticket printer along with the rest of the kitchen staff. However, due to the short staffing on this fine Friday, you were held responsible for not only prepping the meals, but running them to a certain section of tables the other wait staff couldn’t cover. It was only a few tables, but you hated going into the main part of the restaurant. You chose the back for its seclusiveness, and the staff back here were much more enjoyable to be around. Plus, you weren’t a stranger to wiping your hands on your shirt or apron, dirtying up your all black attire soon into every shift. Walking out into the semi-fancy restaurant with a towel tucked into your hip, sauce stains on your apron, and sweat beading at your forehead was not your preferred method of presenting yourself to the…lovely customers.

“S-Sorry, yeah,” you say back quickly, grabbing your tray and hoisting it on top of your shoulder for added support. You bump open the swinging doors with your hip, rushing to your table. You can’t believe you missed the signature ‘ding!’ that accompanied a completed tray. You swore you heard that ding in your sleep, haunting your peaceful moments at rest more than a few times a week. Must have missed it this time, though.

—

Finally. You heave a sigh you had been holding in for the last hour. You had most of your tables cleared or taken care of, and you had a moment in the kitchen to yourself to catch your breath. The night was finally dying down, and you only had a little over an hour left. Maybe you wouldn’t die a slow and painful death in the back of the restaurant tonight, and maybe you’d be able to go home to your cozy bed in due time (almost as if you did every night).

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you turn to look for Sukuna, desperate for a break. It takes a minute, but you run into him (almost literally) as he’s taking a step out of his cramped office.

“Shit, sorry -“

“My bad-“

You both mutter, tripping over the words as you both look for an apology for nearly toppling over one another. You chuckle as he reaches his hand behind his neck, grabbing it and sighing as he lets his arm rest there. You take careful attention to note how his forearms looked like they might split the two buttons neatly fastened at his wrists.

“Can I go on my smoke break now? Just need a few,” you ask, hoping he wouldn’t bust your balls about it.

“Uh, sure, I’ll meet you out there,” he says before he turns back into his office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.

Meet you out there? What was this, a soccer match? You have no time to waste in responding and immediately turn on your heels, shuffling through the crowd of servers, cooks, and busboys galore to the back door.

Sure, he could just need a smoke too. He’s been here far longer than you today and the heavy bags that decorate his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you - or anyone for that matter.

You leave the door propped open behind you with a random piece of wood sitting outside, not wanting to have to bang on the door again for someone to let you in after it automatically locks - a mistake you only let yourself make once twice. The cool air hits you immediately as you search for your trusty milk crate you fashioned as a stool. You try not to get on your phone during your break, only using it to set a timer or check your texts if you had to. You liked to take this time to detach from the busy building behind you, taking in concentrated, steady breaths.

You set the too-short timer on your phone, raising up your hip to slide it back into your rear pocket. On busy days like these, especially days where you were supposed to be off, watching reruns of whatever peaked your fancy on the couch, you felt the need for a cigarette. You used to smoke in your college days at parties or if someone offered, never wanting to cross the line of buying a pack for yourself. You wouldn’t even know what to ask for anyways.

But on days like these, it almost felt necessary. You continue your breathing, leaning your neck down to stretch the sore muscles as you place your face in your hands. You rub your eyes, thanking god you didn’t accidentally pop one out as you received the biggest scare you had in a while.

“Jesus Christ!” You blurt, totally forgetting that your manager was planning on accompanying you for your break. You hadn’t even heard the heavy metal door creek and strain as it opened, there was no flash of light from inside the building, nothing. Weird.

“You meditatin’ or something?” He asks, seeming the most unconcerned you had ever seen him. He reaches behind him, pulling out a shiny, new pack of cigarettes, still tightly wrapped in cellophane. He rips the plastic packaging with his teeth, and it almost looks like he’s flashing a smile at you.

He raises his eyebrows at you with an attitude, non verbally demanding an answer as he hits the pack bottom down on his palm with a loud thwap! thwap!

“No,” you answer plainly, “just on my break.” He pulls a fresh cigarette from the pack before bringing it up to his lips. He pats his pockets, frantically searching for something to accompany his cigarette.

“Got a lighter?” He says, muffled by the thin stick.

“Nope,” you offer, not bothering to throw in an apology like you usually would.

He huffs, turning swiftly back into the restaurant after he mutters a low, ‘useless’ that he assumes you didn’t hear. He yells from inside of the restaurant, asking some shiu? for a lighter.

He’s quickly stepping back outside, cupping the lighter in both hands before he shields the end of his cigarette. He flicks the start wheel, and you try your damndest not to admire how good he looks softly illuminated by the flame. He pulls in a heavy drag as you watch the tip of his cigarette turn to hot ash.

He huffs, blowing out a large cloud into the wind, “Watchu’ starin’ for?”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Got nothin’ else to look at. Besides the dumpster, I guess,” you add, motioning to the container of literal hot garbage that was all too close to you two.

“Good to know I’m better to look at than piles of shit,” he says, not attempting to muffle the slight chuckle that escapes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, reaching back into your pocket to check how much time you had left. 8 minutes.

He huffs again, but decides to keep his quip to himself for time’s sake.

“Why aren’t you smoking on your smoke break?” He asks, trying his hardest to appear like he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Dunno’. I don’t smoke that much,” you respond. But it just wasn’t good enough.

“I could snitch on you for that, ya’ know?” He threatens, waiting to see if you’d stand up for yourself or cower meekly like the rest of his subordinates when he applied even the slightest pressure.

You laugh, “Do it then. Shoko doesn’t care,” you tell him truthfully. She knew from the jump you didn’t smoke and still allowed it, stating that if anyone tried to bitch at you for it to blame it on her. Which you wholeheartedly did.

“Good for her,” he adds, not knowing whether to be offended or impressed by your brevity. “But right now, I’m your manager,” he says as he crouches down, wanting to look you eye to eye.

You ignore the flush you feel rise up your neck. You felt yourself fawning under his gaze, paying too much attention to the purse of his lips as he took yet another extended drag of his cigarette.

You had to keep your composure, even though he wasn’t the ugliest person you’d ever seen. You were used to standing up for yourself in the kitchen. Being a woman in a kitchen environment is not for the weak, and this fact you knew too well. You didn’t even feel like you were that attractive, but you couldn’t count on all fingers and toes how many hands you’ve had to swat back or advances you’ve had to decline from the creepy older men that worked beside you.

You didn’t want to spend the - you check - 6 minutes you had left on your break arguing with a manager you barely knew.

“Then gimme’ one or I’ll go back in,” you offer. You hated to ask, but a cigarette may help you chug through this last hour of your shift.

He smirks, pressing his hand on his knee to help himself stand. You’re hidden in his shadow now, only faintly lit by the dim street light nearby. He reaches in his pocket again, letting out a sigh as he meets your question with a proposition: “Close for me, then sure. You can even restart your fuckin’ timer for all I care.” He adds, becoming annoyed by how often you were checking your phone in front of him, as if you didn’t want to be outside with him or something.

He has to be kidding. It was Friday and the restaurant closed at 1, and with how busy it was, you’d be lucky to be out of there by 2:30.

“Close?!” You say with the upmost attitude you can muster. He was insane if he thought you were staying that long.

“Choose,” is all he says before he reaches one hand towards the doorknob, the other outstretched to you, a fresh cigarette in hand.

Fuck. You ran through the pros and cons in your mind. The money wouldn’t hurt, but you were so tired. Your feet were aching and your back was in knots. But again, the money. The sole reason you took this extra shift in the first place. The extra fifteen minutes plus a cigarette seemed enough to convince you in the needy state you were in. You were ready to accept your fate before Sukuna butts in with a… countdown?

“Three,” he spits, growing impatient.

You wanted to test that patience. Maybe it was the rumors you’d heard about big, bad Sukuna.

“Two.”

But maybe it was the way he looked towering over you, presenting you with options he had selfishly picked, not caring for a compromise. He was the manager after all.

“O-,”

“Gimme that,” you interrupt, reaching to grab the cigarette out of his cold hand. You hate that you noticed his hands, but the dim lighting outside provided you little room to work with in terms of hand eye coordination. Your fingertips brush his lightly, and you would have thought he was losing circulation if you didn’t know any better.

He leans back against the wall as he watches you restart your timer, purposefully ignoring the previous brush of your manicured hands against his.

You motion for him to hand you the lighter, to which he smirks, crossing his large arms across his chest.

“Nope,” he mimics your word from earlier, putting extra emphasis on the ‘p’ sound with a pop of his lips. He was doing anything to get under your skin.

“What do you mean nope?” You ask as you take the cigarette back out of your mouth.

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he teases.

14 minutes.

You were too old for this shit.

You stand abruptly, turning back into the restaurant as you swing the door open with a huff. Sukuna squints behind you, the bright kitchen lights burning his sleep deprived eyes. You rush to his office, pilfering through drawer after drawer to find a lighter. You knew the desk well - it was shared by all the managers. You and Shoko had many conversations in this office after closing time, enjoying each others company as she complained about the weird customers you’d have throughout the night.

Bingo. A bright red lighter peeks out from underneath some old mail, a faint, small ‘s’ written on the side in black sharpie. How cute. Maybe his mom sewed his initials into his undies, too.

You’re already lighting the cigarette before the door closes behind you, pulling in a much needed puff as you sit down back on your crate, and you are far from the picture of grace. Hair messy, face sweaty, and you nearly tumble off the crate from the sheer force of sitting down with such an attitude.

Sukuna tries to avoid your gaze as you come back out, instead occupying himself with following the small beads of sweat that fall down your temple. The sweaty, curled hair by your ears. The sleepy, heavy eyes that cut him such a nasty look.

You pull in and sigh, thankful for the fifteen minute vice you’ve allowed yourself for the night.

“Hm - that’s mine,” he taunts, surprised you were so forward to go through his desk. He’d have to talk to you about that later.

You hold it up, showing him the little ‘s’ on the side with a sarcastic smile. You toss it to him without warning, laughing to yourself as he misses entirely, dropping it on the ground at his feet.

“Clumsy,” you mutter, and you swear his eyes widen slightly, followed by a barely noticeable pink hue across his nose.

No one ever spoke to him like this. His employees seemed so frightened by him, although he couldn’t say for sure why. He was stern, but he noticed most of his attempts at ‘bonding’ with his workers fell short. He felt himself fulfilling the role of the angry, harsh manager more often than he’d like to admit.

You grew uncomfortable with each moment - the silence was deafening as you tried to find something to say, but he beats you to it.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier,” he professes, actively avoiding your gaze. Although you were busy looking at the dumpster as opposed to him, he wouldn’t know. He kept his eyes trained on his feet. He hated apologizing.

“What?” You ask simply. You knew what moment he was referring too, but you needed to milk this rare vulnerability he was showing.

“Jesus.. earlier. I raised my voice. The fuckin’ bell’s messed up and I guess you didn’t hear it.”

So you weren’t going insane! It made you feel better knowing it was (or wasn’t?) a figment of your imagination. But you felt a little bad for the guy. His macho attitude was long gone as he tokes his cigarette, still avoiding eye contact.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you offer, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m not,” he spits, meeting your gaze with his once more. You hate that it gives you goosebumps.

“Sounds like it, to me,” you say, trying to hold your smile.

“Just explaining. Not apologizing. Two different things.” He says harshly. He really did not appreciate you trying to take advantage of his half-apology.

You fail at finding something to say, letting the silence linger for too long again. You were desperate for his break to be over, but he seemed to be intent on staying with you the entire time.

6 minutes.

“Why’d you switch to nights?” You begin, needing to cut the tension with something. You were curious if he was maybe in school or had some responsibilities that kept him busy during the day.

Again, that small blush. The barely there crimson hues spreads further than last time, covering his cheeks and if you weren’t mistaken, his ears. With his hair, he was turning to a pastel strawberry before your very eyes.

He clears his throat, “You looked like trouble,” he admits.

You’re hit with a flood of confusion. Most importantly, the reason he switched was because of you? Secondly, why did he have to use that phrase? It was more demeaning than he knew, and quite frankly -

“For me,” he finishes.

“What?” You huff, growing frustrated with his choice of words.

“You looked like trouble for me,” he corrects himself.

What the hell does that even mean?

He notices the utter confusion painted on your pretty face. He throws his cigarette on the ground beneath him, smushing it out before he grabs the lighter from his feet.

Turning back into the restaurant, he answers your unsaid question.

“I tend to go after women that look like you,” is all he says before he’s back in the restaurant, making sure to close the door tightly behind him.

Go after? What was he, a fucking tiger?

You can’t lie and act like the compliment (?) didn’t make your ego swell a bit. But switching his entire schedule because he was, what, scared of you? Worried he might “come after” you? You needed to know more, simply to have gossip for when you work with Shoko next.

Your timer still reads 4 minutes left, but your craving for the cigarette has long since subsided. You snuff it out, wringing your hands together before rubbing them on your jeans, desperate to get the sickly smell off of your fingertips.

From inside the restaurant, you can sense an influx of tickets printing. You hear feet start to bustle about, pots and pans clanging together, and that same loud voice barking orders at his employees. You only had three minutes left, but you couldn’t get the last 20 out of your mind. You’d find a point to bring it up to him later, you were sure of it.

You stand with a grunt, stretching your arms over your head before you turn to face the door - that Sukuna had so graciously shut behind him. You bang on the door with a closed fist, a loud boom! boom! boom! echoing through the nearly vacant lot behind you.

After your eighth or so hit, the handle turns, and you’re met with tufts of pink hair before anything else. You scoff.

“Missed me that much, huh?” He teases, and you’re taken aback. All of the previous conversation you had with him could be taken totally innocently, all except for that last minute or so. But you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking he was outright flirting with you.

You roll your eyes, shoving past him as he chuckles. You weren’t going to be stuck here with him until the wee hours of the morning, so it’s best you get started on your closing tasks asap. You didn’t close all too often, and you didn’t want to get overwhelmed with the responsibilities of shutting down the restaurant for the night.

You get back to your station, quickly catching up with what entree is currently being prepped. You try to keep your hands and mind busy, well aware of Sukuna’s looming presence in the kitchen. Before your actual smoke break, you tried your best to avoid him, not wanting to become subject to his bitching if you weren’t on your A-game. Now, you felt like being on this supposed A-game was impossible. You were exhausted, your body ached, and you were somehow convinced to close despite the very loud voice in your head protesting that decision.

Now, you had to deal with Sukuna’s gaze peering into the back of your skull. It made you nervous and you hated that, hated that you allowed him even an inkling of control over how you felt. But you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend it didn’t affect you. You had to remind yourself that this was your manager, at least for tonight, and you were his employee. His stare was probably nothing more than a desperate attempt at calling you out on a mistake.

Right?

Is all you can ask yourself when you turn towards the trash can, potato peels in your cupped hands, when you catch him staring. He was leaned against a wall behind you, notepad in hand with the end of his pen affixed between his teeth. His eyes were glued to your ass before he scans your full body, taking in all of you before his eyes meet yours. Both of your eyes widen, shocked at how openly he was ogling your body. You feel the familiar blush rise up your neck again, and you couldn’t mistake a similar one appearing on Sukuna’s face. It was a brighter pink under the fluorescence of the kitchen lights. He threads his hand through his hair before he rushes to Nobara, quick to reprimand her for overcooking a steak. As if he wasn’t just drinking in the image of you.

You had to find time to talk to him, and soon. While you weren’t incredibely angry that he seemed to be interested in you, you didn’t want to assume he was incorrectly.

Another ticket prints as you’re placing the rest of your current ticket on the tray in front of you, ringing the stupid bell extra hard to ensure the wait staff hear it. You grab the ticket before you let out an exaggerated heave - it was a dessert order. Almost all of the desserts at the restaurant were pre-frozen or in the walk in, and there was never any actual cooking involved for the most part. You wipe your hands on your apron, turning for the walk in.

You yank on the comically large handle, the freezing air covering you in chills. The particular order had a side of ice cream, so you walk through the cool part of the walk in to the freezer door, yanking again on another stupid handle. The air in the freezer was nothing compared to the cooler, and you could already see your fingers turning red underneath the LED bulb above the door. The walk in was a mess, and the freezer even more so. You squat near the door, pilfering through the many items adorning the shelves. It didn’t help that the ice cream container was in a large cardboard box, similar to nearly every item in the freezer.

You stand, ready to step to the next shelf in your quest for ice cream, until you feel a nudge on your back, followed by a brief ‘scuse me’ from a now familiar voice. For the second time that night, he scares you so badly you think you could faint.

“Why are you so fuckin’ quiet?” You hiss, to which he shoots you a confused look from over his shoulder. He was pulling in a cart from the make line, full of containers and sauce bottles. He walked in back first, leaving nothing to your imagination as his tight black button up hugged his… very muscular back. It’s not like you knew him well at all, but you didn’t know him to be an avid gym-goer.

“Gonna’ help me or you wanna’ keep eye fucking me?” He grunts, failing to notice how all of your breath was caught in your chest.

Eye fucking? I mean yeah, you were admiring him. But you hadn’t even thought about anything sexual. Up until now. You felt delirious being up so late, and it had been a while since you got laid. And he still wasn’t the ugliest person on the planet.

He shifts to the other side of the cart, grabbing the necessary items and putting them on their applicable shelf. You notice how he’s able to grab nearly everything single-handed, whereas it took you both hands and a hoist of your knee to get some of the heavier items up on the high shelves. His hands were large with clean, neat nails trimmed short underneath a layer of shiny black polish. His sleeves were bundled at the midway of his forearms, revealing two black banded tattoos that wrapped around each of his wrists. You wondered if those were the only ones.

He lifts a heavier box over his head, shoving it in a back corner of the top shelf. You can’t miss the slight untuck of his shirt, the hardened ‘v’ that appears from underneath, and the tufts of blonde hair, starting at his belly button, trailing down to his -

“Eye fuckin’ it is then, huh?” He laughs as he turns to face you, leaning on the cart with one arm. His other arm is busy lazily tucking his shirt back in, his large hand repeatedly dipping underneath his waistband to smooth his shirt over his pelvis. You swear the shirt is tucked in enough, and has been for the last few seconds as he continues tucking and smoothing the fabric. He notices your eyes dart to his hand and he decides to leave it in his waistband, a feeble attempt to warm his cold hands and keep your attention trained to his waist. You stumble over your words, not even bothering to find an explanation.

“What is going on here? Like.. what are you trying to do?” You ask.

“What?” He scoffs, refusing to believe you’d call him out on his long glances and repeated attempts to be near you.

You cross your arms, shivering, as you wait for him to respond with an answer.

He pauses.

“Can we talk about it not in the freezer?” He asks, crossing both arms over his large chest as he’s shivering now too.

“Where then?” You ask, surprised that he even knew what the ‘it’ was you were referring to.

“Meet me in the cooler when you’ve finished your tickets,” he adds before he’s grabbing the cart and pushing the freezer door open into the cooler to leave.

So it wasn’t just your imagination. You had no clue where this conversation could lead, but you were eager to see. Now, finishing your tickets was the priority, which brings you back to the ice cream. Oh. Sukuna had replaced it when he came in and you were too busy gawking to notice. You grab the container, rushing out of the walk in to be met with a loud yelp from Nobara, exclaiming that she thought you’d died in there. Seems you weren’t the only one getting scared tonight.

You only had four more tickets, and one was a drink order for the bar, thankfully. You rush to finish, needing the customers gone as soon as possible so you could start fully cleaning the back. You definitely weren’t rushing so you could talk to Sukuna. Definitely.

In your hurry, you spill sauce onto your workstation close to the edge, some of it spilling onto your apron. Instinctually, you scoot your hips back from the table quickly in an attempt to avoid further dirtying your clothes, to no avail. In your motion, you accidentally thrust your hips into something - no, someone, behind you. While bumping into someone in the kitchen is no rare occasion, you could tell by the huff of breath let out behind you that the hips you just pushed your ass on belonged to Sukuna.

Was he hard?

You felt embarrassed even thinking of a question like that, but it was for good reason. The half-second you had your hips aligned with his allowed you to feel some sort of.. length pushed against you. There was no mistaking it. You look back to him over your shoulder as he’s stepping away from you, and he rolls his eyes at you. Not in a good, ‘oh god her ass is heavenly’ type of way. In a, ‘you can do better than that’ type of way.

One more hour.

-

You finish your tickets, taking extra precautions not to make any more messes. You go to look for Sukuna, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not in the kitchen, and his office door is propped open to an empty seat. You ask a coworker if they’ve seen him, and they only answer with a shrug. You glance to the back door, and it’s closed shut. You head to the walk in anyways, assuming he’ll meet you there in due time.

Until the door is pushed into you. A large hand grabs your wrist, pulling you in. You’re yanked into the cold and backed into the door before you can even let out a gasp. Sukuna stands opposite you, eyes too hooded and low for you to discern how he may be feeling (not that you care).

“Talk,” he says, waiting for you to lead.

“I’m the one that asked you the question. Remember?” You ask, adding a sarcastic smile for good measure.

“You asked me two questions. Remember?” He asks, pitching his voice an octave or two to mimic you.

At this point, you didn’t remember what the hell you asked specifically. You were so drained from the day you could have asked him ten questions and you’d be none the wiser. You nod your head 'no'.

“You wanted to know ‘what’s going on here’ and ‘what I’m trying to do’. Two different questions, woman.”

The nickname makes you squirm internally. You felt desperate - too desperate even. You knew he had a few years on you, although you didn't know how many. You were in your mid-twenties and he couldn't have been more than thirty-five. But still, the difference was there. Even if you two shared a birth year, he was still in a position of power over you. Regardless of how often you two worked together, he was a manager, and you were a line cook. Every voice in your mind is begging you to leave, but your feet are glued to the cold metal floor.

“Yeah, s-sorry. What is going on?”

He notices your nervousness and he wishes it didn’t make him feel so fucking flustered. Last time he checked, he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore.

“Well, we’re unfortunately at our place of employment, on the clock. I’m your manager. You’re my employee,” he says, taking the smallest step towards you, ”and that about covers it. Unless you think there’s something else going on.”

There’s no way he’s trying to pull the fucking stupid card.

“I know there’s something else going on, Sukuna. I saw you staring,” you spit. You caught him swallowing after you said his name, which would have been cuter if you weren’t currently freezing to death.

“Just because I stare doesn’t mean something’s going on,” he says with a smirk, shamelessly letting his eyes trail your body again, lingering when his eyes meet your chest to commit to memory how your nipples cut through your shirt in the cold of the walk in.

You huff, raising your voice to emphasize your point, “Then why are you walking around with a fuckin’ hardon?”

You barely notice the muffled ‘I wasn’t’ before Sukuna’s eyes widen as you feel a weight leave your back. You could barely process someone was trying to come in the walk in by the time Sukuna is crowding your space, one hand flying to the bulky handle to keep the door closed, the other reaching to cover your mouth. His body is slightly pressed to yours and his scent is invading your every thought. He smells masculine - musky and woodsy, like he had been out in the rain. His hands were harsh on your face, pushing down onto you with more force than you thought necessary. His thumb cupped under your chin, long, thick fingers nearly touching your ear as they stretch across your now beet-red cheeks. His chest and arms flexed in front of you as he kept the door shut, and you had to shut your eyes for fear of being caught staring.

The almost-intruder gives up, releasing the handle as the both of you let out a breath. The white, smoke-like air leaving his mouth in the cool air of the walk in clouded your vision as he removes his hand from your mouth, but not the door. He couldn’t risk having someone else barge in and it gave him an excuse to have you against the wall in front of him, albeit not in the way he would have preferred.

You two lock eyes, almost panting from the intensity of what just happened. You both look at each other’s lips, with Sukuna’s eyes flicking between your lips and eyes more often than yours.

You lick your lips, feeling like you were under a spotlight with how intensely he’s meeting your gaze. He was about to speak before you interrupt him, suddenly remember his admission from earlier.

“You weren’t hard?” You ask, and he laughs. The first real laugh you’ve got out of him the entire night.

“No, no I wasn’t, hah. Why do you care?”

You felt stupid but there was no way he wasn’t hard. He must be lying because you couldn’t have imagined what you felt. There was no mistaking the size, the length, the heat. It had to be.

“Then what was it?” You ask, patiently waiting for him to find an excuse.

Until he hits you with a, “my dick,” that knocks the wind from your gut. The shit-eating grin that plasters his face sends a warmth to your groin you haven’t felt in a while.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, and he pouts, mocking your sheepish attitude.

“I don’t understand what you’re so confused about, girl. You’re the one that rubbed your ass on my dick. Doesn’t mean it was hard,” he shrugs.

You remember how big he felt even through the layers of clothing, and it scared you. That was him soft? You were starting to wonder what you’d gotten yourself into. But you had no clue how to respond to that. You couldn’t just compliment him on his soft dick. Weird.

“Well, you still didn’t answer both questions.”

He huffs out a chuckle, remembering the previously avoided ‘what are you trying to do?’

He looks at you, lost in thought. He scans your face before he’s reaching his hand towards yours shoved in your pocket. He extends his palm, motioning for you to place your hand in his. You oblige, pulling your hand out of your pocket before he’s grabbing your wrist, completing enveloping it in his large palm.

He leans closer to you, placing his left cheek on yours as he speaks into your ear.

“I think you know what I’m trying to do, y/n.”

He grips your wrist tighter, leading it to his groin to present you with his now undeniably hard dick. You stifle a gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation of his breath on your ear, cold cheek against your burning one, hard length now sitting heavy in your palm, twitching under your light touch. Now you know why you thought he was hard earlier. He was a shower and a grower, and the sinful thoughts that filled your mind did nothing to stop you from sliding your hand down further, to see just how much of a grower he really was. You knew you should protest this firmly, tell him he’s wrong for lusting after his subordinate, and clock out to seal the deal. But the stifled ‘mmph’ you hear to your left after you squeeze around his tip, precum leaking through his pants, has you questioning why you’d even think to leave. The wetness you thought you had under control was becoming a problem as it slowly soaked through your panties.

He pulls away from your ear, flicking your hand away with a tsk before he’s closing in on you once more, grabbing your chin so you can look up at him properly.

“Since when are you so greedy, huh? So eager? Didn’t tell you to start strokin’ it, now did I? Or are you that much of an overachiever like I’ve heard? I had to beg you to close f’me so I doubt it’s that.” He trails off, bombarding you with questions that warm your face again and you’re sure you have a fever at this point.

You huff out a hushed ‘fuck you’ to which he laughs.

He raised his fist up and starts pounding on the closed walk in door. His force is so brutal, he has to grab the handle to keep it closed as he hammers away at the door.

“That a promise?” is all he asks before he’s shoving the both of you out of the walk in, tripping over each other’s feet as you shoot him a confused look.

He ignores you, yelling out a loud “helloooo?” to the kitchen staff that just witnessed you two stumble out of the cooler.

Nobara rushes up, worry painted on her face as she grabs your wrists, stabilizing you as you catch your balance.

“Sir?” She mutters, looking just as confused as you were.

“We were locked in there for like, ten fucking minutes. No one noticed me beating the damn door down?” He yells. Your face grows redder as you look at Nobara struggle for a response.

“I-It’s fine, really. The handle just got stuck and he was too weak to get it open. He's kinda' useless,” which earns a laugh from more than just Nobara. Sukuna cuts you a look, flaring his nostrils as he’s walking off with a pout to his office. How pathetic.

You dust off your clothes, relieved to see there’s no more tickets printing off. Most of the remaining staff had started on their closing tasks while you and Sukuna were busy fraternizing in the walk in. Although Sukuna left with an attitude, you still couldn’t ignore the pool in your underwear and the ever-present pulse you felt throb with each tick of the clock.

-

The restaurant has mostly died down by now, with only a few lingering patrons at the bar and a couple or two still left in the dining area. Clean dishes were piling up on the right side of the sink and you were only left with the bare minimum cookware at your station. You see Sukuna walk into the lobby of the restaurant, not so subtly urging the remaining customers to leave. Most of the patrons pack up their things, only leaving a few stragglers behind.

-

By now, all of the wait staff had clocked out and left long ago. The clock read a depressing ‘2:23’ as you wipe down your workstation with a damp towel, sweeping the crumbs and leftover trash into the floor. Sukuna is busy finishing off the tills, counting the last of the register’s change. The dishwasher is finally packing his things, heading to the front computer to clock out with a tired ‘see ya’.

You were busy sweeping around your station, leading all the way to the walk in.

“Move,” he says, grabbing the back of your pants by the belt loop and pulling him behind you. You quickly look around to see if anyone noticed his touch, sighing with relief as you realize you two were the only ones still on the clock. He had a piece of paper in one hand, reaching up with the other to remove the thumbtacks from the old schedule on the bulletin board in front of you two. You glance at the schedule and your neck nearly cracks with how hard you do a double-take. You expected your usual 8-4, maybe some 9-5 shifts on the days you usually worked. But this new schedule has you scheduled for nights only. Conveniently, nights that Sukuna is the manager. You peer at the schedule, looking for the large, bold-printed ‘OFF’, and you see that you’re off in two days. You look at the top of the schedule, nothing that Sukuna’s ‘OFF’ day is the same day, too.

Sukuna had already started to walk off as you processed this new schedule. You take a step towards him, grabbing his forearm in an attempt to pull him back to you. His walk is so confident and assured that he pulls you almost an entire step forward before he turns on his heels, suddenly mere inches from your space. His proximity has you at a loss for words, mouth agape as you search your mind for whatever it was you were about to say.

“Yes?” He asks, a slight tug at the corner of his mouth daring to turn into a smile.

“U-uh.. sorry, why did you schedule me for n-nights?” You mutter, spiteful at how the words seemed to die in your throat.

He takes a step back, releasing his arm from your gasp as he straightens his tie, giving you room to finally breathe.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that the employee that called out earlier has the flu.”

“But-“ you try to interject.

“She won’t be in the rest of the week, and how you’re looking at me right now tells me you’d like to be here with me again tomorrow,” is all he says before he’s returning to his office, crumbling up the old schedule as he’s closing the door behind him.

You clear your throat, trying to regather your dignity as you continue sweeping. You were frustrated with how much of an affect he has over you in the short amount of time, but your interactions throughout the day has left you craving more of his presence. His touch still lingers on your skin, reminding you just how often he had touched you during the shift.

You start to gather the trash in the dustpan, standing up to turn around to Sukuna leaving his office. Your breath hitches in your throat as he walks out in nothing but a black tank top, silver chain adorning his neck. You have full view of his numerous tattoos trailing down his arms, over his shoulders, even some that look like they might reach down his chest. He was walking to lock up the front as you finished sweeping and mopping. You grip the broom tighter, trying to ground yourself. Your body temperature was higher than usual and your hands were so sweaty. It felt all too hot in the restaurant, even hotter than it felt with the rest of the kitchen staff on the clock, ovens and fryers ablaze. You take a deep breath and lean the broom against the wall, heading for the back door. You needed some air and being in the same building as Sukuna made you feel like you had to fight for breath.

The cool air instantly calms your nerves as you walk to the side of the building, leaning down to put your hands on your knees. You take a deep breath, running your sweaty palms on your jeans. You had to get yourself together, you tell yourself over and over again. Regardless of how good he looked, how… intrigued he made you feel, you were stuck with him for the rest of the week. You couldn’t take a smoke break every time Sukuna cut his eyes at you or let his hands invade your personal space. While you couldn’t lie to yourself like you didn’t enjoy it, you’re still a grown woman that wouldn’t be caught dead melting under another man’s touch so easily. You preferred things the other way around, enjoying the power you felt when you -

SLAM!

A loud, resounding boom echoed through the parking lot as Sukuna crosses your peripheral, two full, black trash bags slung over his shoulder. He fails to notice you around the side of the building in the dim light before he reaches the dumpster, flinging both heavy bags into the can with ease.

He startles slightly as he sees you, fully expecting you to be inside the restaurant finishing your sweeping. You were too busy admiring him to process that the door had slammed. As in, shut. As in, no way to get back into the building unless Sukuna has the keys, shut. You both seem to realize your grim fate simultaneously, eyes widening as you scramble to find the answers you both needed. You take steps towards him as he’s rushing to you, frantically searching his pockets.

“Please tell me you have the keys-“

“Since when are you outside?”

“Do you not have the keys? How are we supposed-“

“You were supposed to be inside, y/n,” he interrupts yet again, turning out every pocket in search of the large loop of miscellaneous keys. His face is flushed as he peers down at you, obviously embarrassed he was so foolish to trust you’d be inside the restaurant and irresponsible enough to leave the back door without the keys in hand.

He sighs as do you, unsure of what step to take next. He starts pacing, hands running through his hair as he searches for a solution. You gasp quietly, searching your pockets and praising god your phone was still on you. You rescind that praise when you realize that was the only one of your belongings you had. No keys, wallet, purse, anything. In your panic, you rush to the back door, putting all of your body weight into twisting and pulling the handle. It’s locked without a shadow of a doubt, but Sukuna still shoves you to the side as he attempts to open the door. Although his strength seems incomprehensible, he still struggled to open the door. Every muscle in his arms, back, and chest were rippling and contorting as he fully leans back with force in an attempt to rip the door from its hinges. Nothing.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” You ask, dumbfounded at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

He huffs, leaning against the wall beside you as he puts his hand into his pocket, still silently hoping the keys would magically appear.

“What all did you have left in there?”

“Uh, just the sweeping and mopping. Did you finish the tills?” You ask, trying to assess the damage that the morning shift would be subject to.

“Yeah, yeah all my shit’s done, just had to do the fuckin’ trash. Shit.” He curses, rubbing his face in his hands.

You hadn’t realized just how close you two were now. There was still plenty of breathing room between the two of you, but as you both lean against the wall, his arm brushes yours and both of you linger at the contact, consciously continuing the skin on skin exposure.

Sukuna had plenty of plans that were so rudely interrupted by the stupid fucking door. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and how your hands felt on his length, how you looked up at him, hopeful that he would do something more to you. He had plans of ravishing you in the restaurant - partly to boost his ego, and partly to have you reminisce on the experience each time you walked into the building, with or without him. But all plans were effectively crushed as soon as that back door shut.

“Do you not make it a habit to keep the keys on you? Like, at all times?” You ask, confused as to why he would leave them sitting around anyway.

He turns to face you, rolling his eyes as he does so.

“No, I don’t keep the thirty-pound key ring on me at all times. You’re the one that came out here without letting me know!” He adds, throwing his hands in the air, trying to find anyone to blame except himself.

You scoff, surprised he was trying to turn this on you, “Well I needed some fucking air. You want me to tell you every time I go to the walk in or the bathroom, too?”

He laughs, offended, “You need to tell me when you leave the premises. The premises being the inside of the restaurant.”

You start to respond before he’s interrupting you per usual, closing in on your space as he places his right hand to the side of your head, leaning it on the wall to face you directly. You avert your gaze, embarrassed at how meek you felt when he looked at you in this way. But you knew he wanted you, at least in some way - that you knew for sure.

“Why did you need air? Closin’ too much for you, huh little baby? Can’t handle all that… responsibility?” He asks, making your knees almost buckle. Sure, girl was one thing, but baby?

But you still had to hold your ground.

“I am perfectly capable of closing, thank you. I needed a break from you,” you admit, not realizing how harsh it sounded until after you spoke it.

And he is appalled. With the way you were acting, you seemed like a break was the last thing you needed.

“A break? From me? What makes you think that, hm?” He asks as you still avoid his gaze, eyes glued to the way his chest moved in an even, up-down motion as he took steady breaths.

“W-Well, I -“

“Uh uh. Look at me when you speak, y/n,” he commands, taking just his pointer finger to draw your chin up to him, meeting your eyes with his.

“I-I dunno’, you just make me feel… weird? Not bad weird, just… different,” You admit, trying to say anything but ‘you make me wet’. Your response makes him chuckle.

He reaches his hand towards your forehead, prodding it with an exaggerated poke as he asks, “Do I make you feel weird here?”

You smile, furrowing your brows as you let out a simple ‘no’ with a shrug. He nods in understanding, motioning for you to follow him as he grabs your wrist. He pulls you around the side of the building, in an area much darker than previously. You look around as your back meets the wall, noting how the only visible cameras were pointing at the spot you two just occupied. Sukuna moves closer to you, leaving multiple points of contact between you two as you mentally count them all - how his knee is between your legs, how his hand that was on the wall before is now back, but much closer to your head, resting somewhat on your shoulder, how his other hand has now left your wrist, being replaced on your hipbone. His thumb presses in, harder than you think he realizes, and with how pent up you’ve been feeling it takes a great deal of strength not to ravish him on the spot.

He leaves his hand there for a brief moment before he takes the same thumb and slides it along your stomach, stopping when he reaches your navel. His thumb shifts only an inch downwards before he presses into the squish underneath your belly button multiple times, akin to a doctor feeling for abnormalities.

“If it’s not your head… is it here?” He asks with a particularly hard jab for emphasis.

“I make you feel weird in your tummy? Hm?” He finishes with a smirk, now soothing his pokes and prods with gentle circles traced with his thumb.

If you thought you were plenty wet earlier, you had no idea what this type of touch would do to you. He wasn’t even touching you anywhere important yet, leaving you stuck trying to suppress even a hint of a whine from escaping. Your clit was pulsing with your heartbeat which was at an all time high. It’s almost as if Sukuna realizes this as you do, chuckling as he moves his two fingers and thumb up to your neck, wrapping around it slightly as he searches for your pulse. Worry flashes across his face for but a moment before he’s laughing again, removing his hand before he reiterates his question with a simple ‘yes or no?’.

“A-A little, yeah,” you admit and your breath hitches at his response.

His voice was darker now, barely audible over the hum of the street light.

“Oh, I see,” he says as he dares to reach his hand lower, impossibly lower. You refuse to let your eyes trail, instead relying on the feeling of his single fingernail scraping through the outside of your clothes before he stops at your belt.

He catches you off guard, moving a mere inch away from your face as he cups your jaw, pulling you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss. You barely have time to react, kissing him with your eyes widened in shock. He pulls away too quickly, only allowing you to taste him for a short second before he continues his diagnostics.

‘S’not your head, not really your tummy,” dragging out the vowels in ‘really’ to make you wait another second longer.

His hand cups you through your pants, immediately rubbing small circles beneath your mound, stimulating your clit so roughly with the seam of your jeans you have to grab onto his arm for leverage.

“Must be your cunt causin’ all these problems,” he finishes as he meets your lips with his again, all tongue and teeth - which was a necessity for the both of you at this point. The tension that built slowly throughout the night had left you both eager for one another, and it was obvious with how frantic you were for him, whining as you throw your other arm over his shoulder to bring him even closer than he already was. You feel his now half-hard length push into your upper thigh before you reach your hand down to play with the hem of his pants. His abdomen clenches under your touch, rigid muscles flexing enough to be noticed through his tight shirt.

His hand that had found place in your hair tugs lightly as he pulls away from your lips, instead kissing along your cheek towards your ear.

“I thought this was all about her,” he whispers, pushing his two middle fingers harshly into your clit for emphasis, rubbing down firmly on your bundle of nerves as you threaten to fall apart.

“But now you wanna’ be greedy again? You already got to touch me once, y/n,” and you can hear the smile on his face as he says it, “If she’s the one makin’ you feel weird, maybe she’s the one that deserves my attention, yeah? Don’t you want me to make her feel better?” He says, swirling his tongue on the shell of your ear before biting your lobe, playfully pulling it until it snaps back into place. He knows your answer without hearing it, even before the furious nod of your head in agreeance.

He has you so pliant, so willing underneath him. You can’t resist bucking your hips into his hands when he fiddles with the buttons on your jeans, unzipping your pants ever so slowly before he has his mouth on your neck again, sucking and leaving marks that’d be sure to stay for days.

In the suspended unzipping, your mind wanders to the last time you’ve had sex with someone. It had been so many months, you weren’t sure if you remembered who it was. You cared less and less about how things looked down there, shaving every now and then when you got the urge. Which leads you to your current predicament.

“S-Sukuna, I.. I haven’t shaved. In like, a-a week or two,” you stutter quickly, trying to get the words out before he discovers on his own.

His fingers dip beneath your panties regardless, palm flattening against your lower stomach to reach down towards your heat. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes contact with your mound, stating a blunt, “good,” in response to your previous admission.

His long, deft fingers reach further to part your slit, his middle finger running through your folds to gather your slick as he works hard to keep his eyes from rolling into his skull.

“Knew I wouldn’t need any spit, ain’t that right?” He coos, not expecting anything but a gasp from you as his finger makes contact with your clit, finally.

And by god, how have you never been touched like this before?

His fingers rub you so skillfully, even better than you were able to. You were no stranger to masturbation, but the way his fingers felt on you now was unlike anything you’ve felt before. He circled your clit with planned, assured movements - if the smug look on his face wasn’t enough to show you just how confident he was in his ability to please you. His touch was perfect - no movement too under or overstimulating. He was so carefully bringing you closer to your peak with each intoxicating circle, steadily building his pace as he watched you fall victim to your pleasure with each passing moment. His lips are latched to your chest now, his other hand undoing just enough buttons so he can grab you properly without your pesky clothes in the way. He pulls your restrictive sports bra down with a harsh tug, freeing your tits for only a second before his mouth is latched to you, pulling and sucking at your nipples.

“Can’t believe - mmph, you’ve been.. hiding these from me,” he says, entranced at how the light hits your chest as it heaves up and down, your frantic breathing becoming more erratic and choppy, signaling your oncoming breaking point.

“K-Kuna, I’m -“ you try to warn him that you wouldn’t last much longer until your breath is ripped from your lungs.

“How cute,” he says, chastising the nickname you gave him. In one fluid motion, he takes his two middle fingers and slides them down and inside of you, replacing his thumb on your clit, quickly continuing the dizzying circles on your bud as he pumps into you - one thrust, then another, and you lose it entirely as he clamps down on your nipple with his teeth. You look down at him, making brief eye contact before involuntarily letting your eyes roll back, your lip pinched between your teeth as you succumb to the pleasure he so expertly gave you.

He looked surprised that you were finishing so quickly, eyes wide when you look down at him as you clamp so tightly around his digits. You continue clamping around him repeatedly as you ride out your orgasm, becoming louder by the second before he kisses you again, attempting to stifle your moans from echoing in the vacant lot. With one final swipe of your clit he pulls his hand free, immediately backing away to suck you off of his own fingers, grunting once he finally gets a taste of you properly. As if on instinct, his hand snakes his way underneath your panties again to caress your pussy, rubbing his hand in sloppy motions to coat himself in your juices thoroughly. He pulls away again, licking his fingers one by one with an eager grin.

“Ever had a taste?” He asks, wiping his filthy mouth clean.

To be fair, you had, but you wanted to see what he’d do if you said no. So you did.

He responds by taking your chin in his still wet hand, lolling his tongue out as he ravishes you in an open-mouthed kiss. You return the gesture, tasting yourself from his mouth and you were shocked at how intoxicating it was. How intoxicating he was. You so desperately want to return the favor, and then some.

He has the back of your head grasped in his palm but you resist, trying to get the words out as he all but devours you, groping your tits and reaching a hand behind you to grab your ass in a large, firm hold.

“Can I - mmph, can I.. be greedy… now?” You manage to get out before you reach down to palm his length, to which Sukuna lets out a focused, long breath through his nose. He pulls away from you with a smirk, hips leaning towards your touch.

“Dunno’ if I should - mmh.. let you, hah. I wasn’t tryna’ make you cum yet,” he admits, looking down with a ‘phew’ as you hook your fingers tantalizingly under his waistband, pulling him closer.

“That was you trying to make me not cum?” You ask with a laugh.

“Not yet. Wanted to make you wait for it, but you’re too much of a brat to be patient. You've been one ever since you showed up tonight,” he says and to prove his point further, you grab him by the arms and spin the two of you around, gingerly pushing him against the wall. He makes a face like he’s unimpressed before he reaches to the back of his tank top to pull it over his head. You gawk at his musculature and even more tattoos that are revealed to you as he throws the shirt at your feet.

He reaches down to undo his belt, the loud clang of the metal sending chills down your spine. You look down at the shirt then at him, shooting him a questioning look as he looks like he’s waiting for something.

“For your knees, stupid,” he says and as if on command, you drop to your knees onto his shirt, placing your palms in your lap in anticipation. You subconsciously lick your lips as he unzips his pants ever so slowly.

He stops his movements, grabbing the top of your head to tilt it upwards at him, “If you’re that desperate, you can get it out yourself,” he says with a pat of your head. He leans back onto the wall further, crossing his arms over his cold chest as he waits.

You smooth your hands over the top of his briefs and across his happy trail, dipping your fingers below the waistband before you ask, “How long has it been?”

The question takes him aback as his breath catches in his throat. He tries to still his hips from pushing into your feather-light touch but it’s inescapable. It had been a while for him, too.

“A minute,” is all he offers before you reach up to press a wet kiss to his lower abdomen as you pull his briefs down over his length. You pull for so much longer than you assumed you’d have to; after what seemed like so many inches his cock finally springs free, lazily jerking up as it hits the cool air. If it wasn’t for the heavy mass, his dick would stand at attention in front of you. You grab him in your palm, shocked at the sheer weight present in your hand. His angry tip was beading precum as you slowly worked your hand up and down his shaft, sticking your tongue out below him to catch it before it drips.

He starts to speak before you interrupt him, “I’m gonna’ try to make you not cum, okay?” He peers down hungrily at you, cock twitching at your filthy words. You take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue to gather the bittersweet precum before you start to suck. You feel as if you can only take a few inches of him before he’s already prodding the back of your throat, making you cough around him.

“Don’t wimp out on me now, woman,” he says, grabbing himself at his base with a squeeze, using his thumb to line himself up with your throat perfectly.

“You wanna take my dick then fuckin’ take it,” he adds, grabbing the back of your hair to tilt your head back and your chin up towards him. He hums to you a simple ‘relax’ as he slowly pushes his length further into your throat, stopping when he meets a resistance with a throaty groan that has you whining around him, too. He tried his best to keep quiet, but your watery eyes and furrowed brows looking up at him with his dick shoved down your throat made his resolve disappear.

“Breathe,” he commands as he slips out of your throat, leaving you a coughing, sputtering mess with your lips still pressed against his tip. You follow his lead, taking a deep breath in and out before he pulls your mouth open with a thumb on your chin.

“Deeper this time, yeah?” He asks, quickly shoving his length further than before, nearly balls deep into your throat as your eyes shoot open and you swallow on instinct, earning a breathy ‘fuck’ from the man above you. You breathe out slowly through your nose, focusing your mind on doing anything but gagging. You squeeze his thighs to anchor yourself, pulling back from him almost entirely with a gasp before you force your head down again. You feel your throat start to relax as you continue your slow back and forth motion, trying to take him deeper with every thrust into your mouth. His hips are bucking lazily now as he tries his hardest to be somewhat gentle. As gentle as a man can be with a hand gripping your hair and the other guiding his monstrously large cock into your wet heat.

“Hah, l-look at you. I’ll have that throat trained for me in no time,” he praises, admiring how incredible you look as you throat him, watching how the dim parking lot lighting illuminates you enough for him to see the noticeable bulge in your neck. He can’t help but thrust more powerfully now, seeing as you were already taking his dick with ease after such a short amount of time. You meet his thrusts with your hand wrapping around the remainder of his shaft, stroking what you couldn’t reach with your mouth.

You pull off from him and you swear he pouts, bucking into your continued stroking as you kiss his tip.

“Who says I need my throat trained for you? Who says this will ever happen again?” You ask, curious how he would react.

He laughs, biting his lip to hide the moan that nearly slips.

“Oh, s-so you don’t want me to fuck you?” And he had you there. You start to run your hand furiously over his weeping tip and the sudden increase in sensation has him buckling over, mouth agape as heaving breaths signal how close he is. You’re barely able to suck his tip again before he’s removing your hands, pushing you back to sit on your feet.

“Fuck..y/n, open up,” he says as he strokes his length meticulously, grunts leaving his mouth as his fingers run over the tip repeatedly, “gonna’ paint that - fuck, pretty.. fuckin’ face,” he manages, smiling with an almost pained look as you loll your tongue out obediently. He can’t warn you any further before he’s cumming, white hot liquid pouring into your mouth as you jump in surprise at the sheer volume. With each spurt he’s moaning, strings of profanities leaving his lips as he sees white. You reach your hand up to finish the job, giving him a few final strokes before you suck on his tip a final time, swallowing his gift for you with a smile on your face. You wipe the remainder of your face with your sleeves as you stand to your feet.

“Come here,” he says, drunk on the feeling still as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss.

You pull away, “Now what?”

He chuckles, “hah, we go home,” he says, checking his watch that reads a depressing ‘3:17’, “unless you need my dick that bad.”

While you did actually need his dick that bad, that wasn’t the problem bothering you in the moment.

“Sukuna, I don’t have my keys. Just my phone,” you offer. He reaches down to dust off his shirt before he puts it back on. He motions for you to follow him as he grabs his keys out of his pocket.

“Guess you’re getting what you want after all.”

(pt. 2 in the works)

[sykoangels]

movie star

paring: Rodrick Heffley x hyperfemme!reader

warnings: oral sex (f! Receiving) , sex tapeunprotected sex

author note: im literally in love with rodrick!!! sooo enjoy this is gonna be feeding my delusions unfortunately

Rodrick Heffley is a character to say the least he could be a bit bitchy, but he was crazy talented. He’s the frontman of the band Loaded Diper a band he created with his friends. Back in freshman year, he was holding auditions for a new guitarist due to the one he had moving overseas. You went to the audition and got in with flying colors. Rodrick wanted something different from the band and you had to look and the talent. Your aesthetic was very different from the rest of the band, but still leaned into the emo aesthetic as well, but not too far off that they would get called posers. You loved wearing fishnets and baby tees, especially ones with crazy sayings on them like “I heart men whimpering” or “#1 gaslighter.” The band was doing well, especially throughout high school but now you're a sophomore in college doing the band on the side for extra money well also studying music technology because you want to become a music producer.

But you were keeping a secret at least from the rest of your bandmates. You and Rodrick have been in a friends-with-benefits relationship for about six months. This came about after the winter tour had concluded. One minute you guys were talking at a Christmas party and the next minute you were bent over a dingy bathroom sink and some random college frat house. You didn’t mind this since you always thought Rodrick was very attractive. If you were honest with yourself, he fit every piece of criteria when it came to your romantic partner. Handsome, tall, musically inclined, and a bit pathetic looking he checked all the boxes. He wasn’t even bad at sex either. Maybe the rumor you heard about rockstars are right they’re really decent in bed. It was getting difficult to hide the friends with benefits relationship since now they are preparing for our summer tour, which means we’re constantly around our band mates each other 24/7 no breaks.

The air was thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat as the last chords of their set reverberated through the dimly lit club. The crowd roared, their voices a mix of excitement and exhaustion after a night of headbanging to Rodrick Heffley's band. You, the lead guitarist, felt the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, your fingers tingling from the rapid-fire strumming. As you stepped off the stage, Rodrick caught your eye from across the room. His smirk was mischievous, a silent acknowledgment of the secret that only the two of you shared. You made your way through the throng of fans and backstage hangers-on, your black micro mini skirt swishing against your thighs, fishnet stockings adding a touch of rebellion to your hyperfeminine style.

"Great set tonight," he said, his voice low as he pulled you into a corner, away from prying ears. "Always," you replied, smiling coyly. "But you know what would make it even better?"Rodrick leaned closer, his eyes dark with intrigue. "What's that?""A little after-party of our own," you whispered, your breath warm against his neck. His hand found yours, fingertips grazing softly. "I like the sound of that."

With a nod, you both knew the plan. You slipped out the back door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat inside. He quickly made it to the van loading up the instruments before sending a quick text to the under bandmates saying that you didn’t feel good and that you were going back to his place to rest. You guys called a taxi and made it back to Rodrick’s place. The drive to his place was short, the city lights blurring past as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

Inside, the apartment was quiet, the usual clutter of instruments and band posters giving way to an intimate setting. Rodrick pressed you against the wall as soon as the door closed, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his band tee beneath your fingers.

"Wait," you murmured against his lips, pulling back slightly. "I need to remember this moment forever.”

Rodrick nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. You walked over to the camera set up on its tripod, a sly grin playing on your lips. Flicking it on, you adjusted the angle to capture the both of you perfectly. "Are you ready baby” he asked, his voice husky with desire. You turned to face him, your outfit a stark contrast against the darkness of the room. "More than ready," you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. Rodrick closed the distance between you, his hands gentle as they cupped your face. His lips met yours again, this time with a tenderness that spoke of deeper emotions hidden beneath the surface. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the hardness of his body against yours. "You look so fucking pretty babe," he murmured, his gaze tracing every inch of your exposed skin.

"thank you baby" you whispered back, your fingers trailing down his chest to the button of his jeans. With a deft flick, you undid it, sliding the zipper down slowly, deliberately. Rodrick groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, I need you so bad," he muttered, his voice thick with lust. You smiled, a thrill running through you at his words. "Show me," you challenged, your eyes daring him to go further.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Rodrick lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. The camera captured every moment, the lens focusing on your intertwined bodies with an unflinching gaze. Settling you down, Rodrick knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. His hands were reverent as they explored your body, peeling away layers of clothing with careful precision. You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your panties, slipping beneath the delicate fabric to tease you.

"Rodrick," you whimpered, your head falling back as pleasure surged through you. "that’s it good girl" he hushed, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. "Let me hear you." You obeyed, biting your lip to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape. Rodrick’s mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue darting out to taste you, sending waves of sensation crashing over you. You gripped the cushions beneath you, your body arching towards him, seeking more.

"Fuck yes” you moaned, your voice breaking the silence. "Oh fuck yes " Rodrick chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "You like that, huh?" “ I love it oh fuck” you admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he continued his ministrations. The camera watched silently, capturing your expressions of pleasure, the way your body writhed under Rodrick’s skillful touch. You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might explode.

"Rodrick," you cried out, your voice raw with need. "Please, I need—" He didn’t let you finish. Rising to his feet, Rodrick positioned himself above you, his eyes burning with desire. You reached for him, guiding him inside you, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. You both shuddered, a symphony of sighs and moans filling the room as you moved together, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge."Look at you," Rodrick panted, his forehead resting against yours. "So thirsty for my fucking cock like some groupie whore”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "yes your groupie whore," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. As the climax approached, the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, until finally, it snapped. You cried out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your body convulsing with the force of your release. Rodrick followed soon after, his own cry mingling with yours as he spilled himself inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. As the afterglow of their passionate encounter began to fade, you and Rodrick lay entangled on the couch, the camera still recording your every breath. The room was filled with a mixture of scents—the musky aroma of sweat mingled with the faint hint of your perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to encapsulate the intensity of the moment

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

[eetherealgoddess]

TR: ꨄYANDERE HEADCANONSꨄ

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, & Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Characters are 18+

❦We already know that these mfs have a crazy streak to them. That’s why we love them :) ❦

❣︎A lil gift for my unpredictability. Hopefully I’ll get to some of the pending requests soon. If not, just know that i love youuuu <3

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Mikey: Manjiro Sano, publicly known as Mikey, has been your favorite, famous racer since you found him unexpectedly on social media a couple years ago. You’ve never really been into the motorcycle scene until you saw the attractive blonde when swiping through your for you page.

You’ve even gone out of your way to visit him at the different raceways and arenas he’s raced at, cheering him on from afar along with the crowd’s roars. Although your passion for him was strong, you knew that you were nothing but a mere fan out of numerous supporters. An extra in his show.

What you failed to notice is that for the first time he noticed you was during the end of the first race you attended as he slowly paused in front of the crowd who cheered his name. As he observed with a genuine smile, you seemed to have caught his attention. As he eyed you, the energy you radiated as you applauded the short man caused him to envision his deceased older brother, along with the rest of his family who stood beside the visualization of Shinichiro.

During this time, you could’ve sworn you made eye contact before he swiftly turned away, slightly giddy at the smile you might have received.

Unknown to you Mikey’s fixation on you continues to intensify, his behavior towards you becoming incredibly invasive as well as a distant attachment forming to the idea of you. He begins to monitor your every move on social media, watching your every update and interaction with others. As his attraction deepens, he becomes determined to keep you close and under his control, going to great lengths to ensure you remain in his presence.

You were excited when you received a private message of your favorite racer wanting to meet you. You thought it was fake when you first noticed it until you saw the blue check mark and viewed the profile. Despite a slight uneasiness, you proceed with conversation and attend his races. The support becomes more personal as you become closer, his clinginess prominent though you can’t seem to find a care. Who wouldn’t want THE Manjiro Sano to link to them?

Time passes and you begin to realize how fast the relationship between you two is going. Before you know it, he’s basically moved you into his home as he requests your presence almost every single moment of the day. There were times when he even showed up to your job to get you off work so you could hang out. Luckily for you, your manager is a huge fan of the racer, but you were starting to become very uncomfortable with the off - putting behavior.

After more weird actions you made an attempt to distance yourself, only for him to question your loyalty and gaslight you into feeling guilty for trying to leave him, especially when you’re the closest person to him. Regardless, you held your ground, ready to live for yourself and to stop accommodating to the one you used to be a fan of.

“Let me show you how to ride a motorcycle.”

An eyebrow rose as you contemplated his ‘request.’ Shrugging you decided to allow it considering after this session you will continue distancing yourself from the needy man. Taking you to the nearest arena to practice, he showed you the basics and even displayed it on his own bike before handing it off to you.

Feeling nervous and yet the adrenaline boost causing excitement, you began on your own way around the arena, gaining momentum as you pressed the gas pedal, helmet tight on your head.

A few minutes pass when you decide to slow down, though when you hit the brake pedal, it doesn't show any signs of halting. A rush of anxiety and pure fear shoots through your chest as you desperately attempt to slow down. You attempt to scream for Mikey, turning your head to meet his gaze only to catch a quick glimpse of his stoic facial expression.

“Oh my God!”

Realizing the motorcycle was only speeding up to no end, you forcefully push yourself off the bike, landing harshly on the ground as the motorcycle falls off the trail and slams into a nearby wall, pieces flying everywhere. The pain in your body numbs out before engulfing your nerves as you groan before falling into a deep slumber.

Two months have passed since the devastating incident and your whole world has changed. You sit in your wheelchair in your former favorite’s home while he sits in between your paralyzed legs on a small stool. Your fingers trace through his blonde locks to pull half of it into a ponytail. He couldn’t help but sit with a smile, knowing that you’ll be tied to him for a while. At least for your recovery.

Unfortunately for you, the feeling of a grin was long forgotten as your whole reality became sucked into his, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Kazutora: The arcade had always been a place that held fond memories from your childhood. While it was open, you’d visit almost daily after school was released. You remember getting scolded everytime you would skip out on your homework or give minimum effort just to play on the machines and hang out with your friends. You always thought the building would be your preferred spot, even in your adulthood.

It never crossed your mind that one day, the business would shut down, the owners eventually abandoning the nostalgic structure and leaving the walls to rot. You also never thought you’d be sitting with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you lay your head down in an attempt to block your vision from what is playing out in front of you within the walls of the old arcade that used to be your comfort zone.

Unfortunately, your hearing exposed you to the disturbing impact of skin against bloody, torn flesh as fists make contact with the unconscious victim lying on the grimy cement. Your eyelids are shut tight as your hidden expression holds a grimace. Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood as the metallic taste reaches your tongue.

You ignore the blood thirsty men who cheer on the violent endeavor. Their voices echo throughout the room, making it harder for you to tune out the situation. You had only heard of Valhalla before you were forced to meet them. Your certified ‘boyfriend’ made sure to show you off once he had a hold of you, almost like a prized possession he claimed. You never even agreed to the title, but you knew not to test the unstable man.

“Kazutora.” Although your voice is muffled, he’d never miss it no matter how quiet you are. Even in a room full of intimidating men. The sound of skin connecting halts as the room goes quiet. Your grip tightens around your limbs as you hear steady footsteps come towards you. Ignoring the whistling and whispers from the males watching the display, the footsteps stop in front of you before a hand gently grips the back of your head. You could feel the moisture of the red substance seeping to your scalp, causing a shiver up your spine. The golden eyed male guides your head up, forcing you to make eye contact as you give him a distressed gaze.

“H-he only greeted me. Stop… please.” You demand, your fingers fidgeting with the tight skin against your legs as you eye him crouching in your line of vision. He gives you a blank stare, the orbs wide with an unreadable expression that causes a prominent discomfort. He removes his hand from your head as he rests his arms against his bent legs.

“You’re taking his side now? That kinda hurts my feelings, Y/n.” His head tilts as he gives a sheepish smile with his eyes closed, scratching the back of his streaked locks.

“I-I’m not!” You shriek, eager to prove him wrong so as to not rile him up more. The poor male lying on the ground got caught in the crossfire of this psychopath’s wrath all because he greeted you. You were tired of others getting hurt in the process of even being near you. He’s an innocent bystander and it isn’t fair.

“Oh, Y/n. How could you be so insensitive to your lover’s concerns?” Hanma, a guy you’ve never liked, adds fuel to the flame as he sits with his legs crossed in a chair, leaning on the palm of his hand with a sly smile. “It seems she hasn’t learned her lesson. I’d give him a few more rounds for good measure. He can take it.” He shrugs with a smug expression.

You glare at him while the rest of the men agree and add their own two cents before facing Kazutora, who only stares back at you with an intense gaze that makes you shift uncomfortably.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t talk to him again. Please just stop the violence.” You notice the blood running down his arms from his hands as it stains his pants. Your eyebrows furrow at the sight and strong smell which only grew as he placed both palms on your cheeks while kneeling. Both of your foreheads connect gently as he breathes your scent in.

“You’re mine, you know that right? You won’t ever betray me like that again?” He questions with his eyes closed. You feel his thumbs caress your skin as the blood smears, nodding your head to answer his questions.

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Sanzu: You couldn’t help but feel like someone is playing a cruel psychological prank on you. The nagging feeling of being watched no matter where you go, even in your own home. The glimpses of a shadow figure in the corner of your eye, only for you to turn your head to see nothing. You ignored it at first, continuing your days as if everything was normal.

It wasn’t until a corpse was found in your bathroom, awaiting your arrival to view the disturbing display of a decaying body. You screeched until your throat couldn’t release sound anymore. After calling the police you sat in your living room. Once the authorities reached the scene, there was no sight of any dead body.

A few weeks pass and you just got off from work, ready to shower and throw yourself on your bed. You allowed the heat of the water to relax your muscles as you rubbed along your dermis with the soapy cloth. Once you were finished, you stepped out of the bathroom in your towel before heading to your bedroom.

Once you were dressed, you hopped into bed and switched your lamp off, the moonlight shining through the cracked curtains.

Although your eyelids were closed, you were interrupted from drifting off to sleep when a palm covered your mouth as a weight held you down. Your eyes shoot open, an icy blue glaring down at you through the darkness, as well as pink strands draping over the male’s shoulders. The lump in your throat burns as the tears threaten to fall out of your eyes as you stare in fear at the growing, scarred smile.

You watch as his free hand comes towards his mouth, his index finger pointed upwards and landing against his lips.

“Shh…” He motions for you to stay quiet as he feels the vibration of your whimpers against his skin. The free hand moves behind him before a shiny object is pulled out and pressed against your neck. Your eyes squint as the tears fall down your cheeks, body trembling as you feel the cold surface make contact with your skin.

“Did ya recognize him?” He questioned in amusement, just above a whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you searched your brain for what he could mean.

“Why would you let a scum near my pussy?” You almost jerked back at the chuckling crazy guy. You have no clue who he even is nor who he’s talking about. That is… until it hits you.

The memory of the corpse you found in the bathroom plays out in your head. At the time you weren’t really focused on the identity because of how distraught you were to find the dead body. Now that you remember, the familiarity of the male’s face wasn’t hard to depict. He had been your most recent booty call, a friend of a friend who became your temporary close friend.

How you couldn’t recognize him was because you rarely ever called each other so it was only a couple of times you hooked up. Why the hell did this guy kill him and why is he referring to your vagina as ‘his pussy?’

You take a really good look at the man in front of you to try and figure out his thinking process, when it finally clicked.

That face… those eyes… those scars.

“Haru?!” Your voice is muffled against his hand, the male you happened to meet when he was blonde and masked. The boy you went to middle school with. The quiet boy you sat with at lunch, conversing even when he didn’t respond. The boy you created a close and yet distant friendship with. The boy who slightly broke your heart when he disappeared and was never heard from again. What the hell happened to him? Was he always this psychotic?

He observed you as realization hit, the crazed grin seeming to stretch wider than before. The glint in his eyes seemed to shimmer as he leaned closer to you.

“This time, you’re coming with me.”

[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

[7ndipity]

Them With An Autistic S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would handle/react to their S/o being on the spectrum.

Warnings: Mentions of sensory issues, feeling over/under stimulated, depression, meltdowns, stimming.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! This is a list I’ve actually wanted to write for a while, but I’d been slightly nervous/unsure about it. But as someone who’s also on the spectrum, I know how much comfort similar posts from other blogs have brought me! I also tried to keep this one a bit lighter, since someone asked for a separate list about meltdowns/shutdowns, but if there’s any specific reactions/hcs like this that you guys want, let me know! (Please note that these are based off my own knowledge/experience, so I’m sorry if they don’t fit for everyone)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

I feel like he’d be slightly confused and worried at first because he’s not sure what to do/how to help you, but once you explain a bit more, he gets a lot more comfortable, and really is such a good caregiver when he needs to be.

Catches onto your different stims pretty quickly and what each one means.

Like, y’all have whole conversations solely through funny little hums and stim noises.

Really good at reading and matching your mood/energy. You wanna talk about the Mayans nonstop for two hours? Cool! You want to just sit silently and do nothing? Also cool!

He’s really good at normalizing your symptoms and making them seem like nbd(because to him, they aren’t) Food sensitivities? He’s got them too! You hate loud noises and crowds? Same Honey, let’s get the fuck outta here! He knows they’re not quite the same thing, of course, but if it makes you feel more comfortable and safe being your true, unmasked self with him, then that’s all that matters to him.

Really good at calming you down when you feel overwhelmed or on the verge of meltdown.

Does his absolute best to bring your mood up whenever you’re struggling or feeling really down, pulling out his best dad jokes(even if they don’t make sense to you), bringing your favorite snacks, etc.

Yoongi:

I think he would handle it really well. Does his research after you tell him, and asks you about it casually during dates/hangouts.

So fucking respectful of your boundries. If you prefer to have your own space, he’s totally fine letting you do your own thing. If you need more closeness and cuddles, he’s all over that too, letting you sit right next to him while he works.

Not only lets you rant about your special interests, but makes the effort to take interest in them and asks questions. Randomly buys you little things related to them.

He’s so calming and soothing when you’re feeling stressed or overstimulated, understanding whenever you randomly need rest or quiet time(stress nap buddies)

Keeps things like extra sunglasses and headphones in his bag for you, just in case you forget yours.

Would have a lot of fun if you have audio stims, letting you listen to his new songs because your reactions and enthusiasm are so cute to him. Makes you panning audios as gifts.

Always there to look out for you whenever executive dysfunction decides to kick your ass. Washes the dishes, doing the laundry, restocking your safe foods, etc. He would also be really good at body doubling.

Hobi:

I honestly think he would be really good with an S/O on the spectrum. Like, he literally designed Mang, who is soo ND coded like omg😭, so I think he would be able to understand you really well.

(if you haven’t seen the videos of him talking about Mang’s personality and character traits during the re-design process last year, pls go watch them, I almost cried)

Loves buying you new fidgets and stim toys whenever he finds new ones to try(he even has a collection of chewlery that he wears bc he thinks they’re neat).

Is really good reading you and distracting you when you start to get overstimulated or anxious, sometimes noticing before you do.

Lowkey protective over you in spaces and situations he knows are stressful for you, positioning himself next to you whenever he spots things he knows bother you.

You know how Yoongi described him as a vitamin? That’s how it is for you now too.💛

He’s so stimmy himself, so he would find a lot of your stims really relatable and endearing. Like, if you start happy stimming, he can’t help but join right in, bouncing or squealing with you. It makes him so happy that you feel comfortable enough with him to share those parts of yourself with him.

Namjoon:

Instantly super supportive when you told him, making an effort to research on his own, as well as listening to your personal experiences to understand as much as possible.

Happily sits and lets you info-dump about your special interests. He honestly loves seeing you so passionate and animated about whatever you’re talking about and loves getting a glimpse into how your mind works(it was probably during one of these moments that he realized he was in love with you)

Surprisingly good pebbler, he’s always finding cool rocks or shells for your collections.

Doesn’t mind speaking for you on days when you’re nonverbal.

The sweetest when you’re feeling overstimulated. He closes all the curtains to make it dark and cozy and sits with you, talking as softly as needed or not talking at all, tapping your hand gently now and then to let you know he’s still there.

Soo protective over you, almost to a fault at times. Like, you might have to scold him once or twice about babying you, but he really doesn’t mean to, he just wants to make sure you’re safe and happy.

The world feels a lot less scary tho with him next you. You know if you need anything, he’s got your back.

Jimin:

The softest boi🥺 He was honestly a little scared when you first told him, because he didn’t want to do anything wrong and was worried he wouldn’t be ‘good’ at looking after you, but he quickly relaxed and grew more confident as he learned more from you.

The best comforter when you’re feeling overwhelmed or depressed, full of quiet reassurances and long hugs(if you’re okay with those). He’ll gladly cuddle with you under your weighted blanket for however long you need to feel better.

Literally set up a little “nest” for you at his place with a like beanbag chair and your favorite types of blankets/pillows, so you have your own place to just ‘be’ and recoup when you need it.

Carries fidget toys and sensory aids like sunglasses and headphones with him at all times, just in case you need them.

Really good at communicating with you on days when you’re nonverbal, whether through texts or little notes(which he always adds little doodles on to make your smile😊)

Makes sure you never feel guilty or like a burden to him for letting him in on those tougher days. If anything, they make him love you even more because of the trust you have in him.

It really makes him feel so proud and happy inside that you find so much comfort in his presence and that he gets to take care of you.💜

Taehyung:

Another that I think would be particularly good with a neurodivergent S/O. Like, everyone jokes about how he’s weird, so I think he’d love that you’re both your kind of own unique kinds of ‘weird’.

Happily rewatches your favorite comfort shows/films with you, and speaks in fluent film quotes with you.

Loves when you fidget and stim with his hands or fingers.

If you like pressure stims, he’s a dream come true. Like, the man’s a living weighted blanket, so when you basically give him a doctor's note for cuddles? He’s never gonna let you go.

As relaxed as he might come across sometimes tho, he’s super observant of your stims and triggers and takes it so seriously whenever you start feeling overwhelmed or stressed.

It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, if you need a break, he’s getting you to a quiet place where you can sit and just recalibrate.

Rivals Jin and Yoongi for top spot in the acts of service department on your bad days, making sure you eat properly, doing any household chores that need done. He even learned how to wash your weighted blanket so you don’t have to.

Jungkook:

Was definitely a little lost and overwhelmed when you first explained everything to him, but he really takes it in stride and tries to learn as much as possible to help make things easier for you where he can.

The King of comfort squeezes. Like you’ve seen his arms, he gives the best hugs, I just know it(especially on those “the weighted blanket isn't enough, I need a hydraulic press” days)

Loves learning about your special interests. Like, It’s no longer just your special interest, it’s our special interest. He’s even studying and finding things for it on his own to surprise you with.

Honestly plays with some of your fidget toys more than you do, lol! You might even end up giving him a few of his favorites😊

Gets super happy and smiley whenever you get echolalia of his songs.

Another member of the protective squad, ain’t no bad stimuli getting to his baby if he can help it!

The gentlest with you when you're overstimulated or having a tough day. Anything you need, he’ll do without question. All he cares about is making sure that you feel safe and comfortable🥺

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[rockwgooglyeyes]

It's This Moment (or Nothing)

One of the biggest things that I have run into over the past day with Blink, Gone is the way that it feels incomplete and that is something I still stand by. This could be something completely purposeful, meant to illustrate that the round wasn't ever going to be a legitimate competition anyways, intended from the beginning as a lure for Hyuna and Mizi, to add extra emotional effect to the cliffhanger, or perhaps it really is one half of a wider whole (in a more localized sense than it being one part of the whole series, anyways). I don't really know which I think is more likely, at this point, because I'm not sure enough about any of my theories on that front to make real predictions. I still believe that Mizi will end up on her own when this all finished, all of the people she ever loved dead and gone, the bodies littered at her feet.

With the "special guests" I presume that Hyuna and Mizi will be forced to go up against each other. My friend Zen, (@verdantlights) said that hy thinks that it'll end up being a Hyunaluka round where Hyuna is set to win and then a Hyunamizi round where Hyuna is set to lose (edited because i got the order wrong and zen corrected me lmao). I agree with the idea that, at this point, it's damage control. They successfully lured Mizi (and by extension, Hyuna) in with Till, killed Till and now they're going to make their hostages perform for their lives, as is their brand.

One of the most interesting parts of Blink Gone, for me, is how this was presumably all planned from the start. Zen mentioned something that made me realize this yesterday, that this is the 50th season of Alien Stage. There's no way they would let it get this rowdy with rebels and disrupted rounds unless they were letting it happen, because it was planned from the start, because they were trying to tie up loose ends (Hyuna). Not only that but this round in particular was undoubtedly planned from the beginning, with the amount of preparation that went into it (the giant billboards of Ivan, the chanting of the crowd, the song itself). Till was ranked 2, it was always going to end up this way, Luka's superiority reinforced and his opponent dead on the floor. (btw I'm coming back to Luka. There's gonna be another fucking post just you wait). The way that they used Till's triggers against him, they drugged both of the performers but only gave Till enough to last him halfway through, forced Till to perform against Luka right after Round 6, where he lost one of the people in his life that was most important to him, and then rubbing salt into his horrible fresh wounds.

This is also one of the only rounds where Mizi is one of the POV characters that we have no mentions of Sua, at all. Perhaps that's merely because Mizi wasn't the focus and by extension, neither was Sua, but in another way, you could argue that it's because someone else was busy haunting the narrative: Ivan.

It kinda fucking hurts that the only way we really got to see Ivan was two ways- a direct flashback to the kiss from CURE, a explicit representation of the trauma that Ivan left Till with, and the billboards/Luka manipulations where he mimics Ivan in order to get Till on the back foot. And the thing is, it works. Ivan, despite his every intention otherwise, has become a trauma for Till, the way he thought he never could. To a degree, I was happy about this, because it proved Ivan wrong, that he would just be forgotten in a blink, but it hurts as well, because him only being used as a weapon against Till only reinforces his beliefs about himself that he is a monster and a negative impact on others. He would view himself being used against Till as a bad thing, that he hurt Till when he never intended to, rather than seeing it for what it is- an explicit sign that he was far more important to Till than he previously thought.

(Also something driving me up a wall right now is the way that one of my friend's described the lyrics of Blink, Gone as being in reference to the way that one moment Ivan was there, and the next he was gone, because Till took advantage of Ivan's presence and didn't know how much he needed it until it was gone and I'm sorry I'm going to go scream some more now.)

One thing I've talked about with friends a lot the past day is the way that, if Till is truly dead, then what was Ivan's character even for? And while narratively, it wouldn't make sense to kill TIll here with all of the potential he has and where his arc is going, one thing that @pwippy pointed out to me is how it makes a lot of sense thematically. Alien Stage is a universe full of suffering and pain for humans, forced to perform until they literally die on stage, all for the entertainment of the audience. It's not even meant as a way of exerting control or oppressing them, though it serves that purpose, because why would the seygein bother to oppress something that can't even fight back? Why go to the trouble of controlling something that is just a pet, whose cries are the fuel for a new age?

For Till to die now, reaching out for this glimmer of light when he is an animal caged, surrounded by enemies and bombarded with triggers of his suffering and pain, it would only be fitting. Another confirmation that life isn't fair, especially not in a system that is actively working against you and your attempts at happiness. Yet another sign that none of them were supposed to live very long, that even if they won, they wouldn't be around for much longer anyways. Now, it wouldn't necessarily be in character for Till, as he wants to live and he wants to fight, but he got to see one of the people he loved most in his dying moments, just like Sua and Ivan did. (Thank you this post for grabbing me by the throat and squeezing). In this world of pain and suffering, perhaps death is a mercy. If Till is truly dead, then he no longer a tool for his oppressors, he is free of their control. For Ivan and Sua both of their deaths were mercies to them- Ivan was able to die for the one he loved, as was Sua, and neither of them were forced to live in a world without their beloved.

So, while it might not be in character for Till to die, it makes sense within the themes and the established mechanisms of the universe, and it hammers home just how much more Mizi has to lose, even at this point where she thinks she's lost it all.

Mizi, who at the beginning, was the only one of these characters filled with innocence and hope, Mizi, the apparent protagonist of this story- at the end, she will be alone and she will know the true lengths of cruelty, with all that which she has ever loved destroyed.

[messenger-of-babel]

Green With Infatuation

Summary: Kyle hopes with all his heart that you like him back after rumors begin floating around. (Kyle Rayner x reader)

Word Count: 1.5K

Notes: Kyle just being a love sap (I know he's a more fleshed out character than that but sometimes I want to curse his romance).

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Kyle Rayner was many things.

He was a green lantern, a defender of Earth. He had carried the white lantern mantle for a while as well, until he tried to resurrect the Blue Lantern Corp. He was a friend to many, and when he felt like it, a pain in Hal Jordan's side (even though the other man took it in good mirth). However, nothing was a strong as what he knew himself to be at the core: A man head over heels for you.

From the first time he had seen you, he couldn't help but be captivated. The way that you smiled at him made him feel like he held up the sun, your eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn't often come by the Justice League headquarters, mostly just when Hal or John put a request in for extra backup. However, he found himself going back repeatedly when he wasn't needed, pacing through the halls just for a chance of seeing you again.

You were a secretary hired by the Batman himself, keeping things orderly and neat to the eyes of the public. He'd come to get coffee with Hal, looking through the glass wall of the second floor to the reception you manned. He'd watch how day after day you dealt with angry members of the public or crazed fans trying to get past you. Not that they could, everything beyond a certain point was access restricted so they wouldn't be able to do so much as call the elevator. With a sigh and a calm smoothing of your shirt you'd click the call button under your desk, security coming to whisk the person annoying you away.

He also saw you at some of the work functions, little get togethers that Superman held to try and encourage a team environment. You were invited to those too but seemed wildly out of place among all of the superpowered (or in the Bat's case, heavily armed) figures in the room. Since Kyle had been dropping by more and more frequently for months now, they invited him along. Every time they didn't, he asked to come along with Hal.

He yearned to talk to you, yet there was a pit of worry clawing at his gut. He wished he could take off the mask and talk to you normally, like you were both casual civilians bumping into each other on the street. He had debated that exact scenario multiple times, but he didn't want to be a stalker. If you two ever did end up together, he didn't want to have the foundations of the relationship be a lie. That wouldn’t be fair to you.

So, he watched from a distance, studying the way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you held yourself. Catching sight of Diana coming towards him, he nodded his head in polite greeting. The Amazonian returned the gesture, drink in hand as she leans on the wall next to him. "Rayner," she greets quietly, lips quirking into a grin. "I've been seeing you a lot more at these kinds of things. Don't tell me you're actually starting to enjoy them?" she teases. he shrugs his shoulders, smiling back.

"It's not like the corps are gonna throw a Christmas party anytime soon, I'll take what I can get." he chuckles, raising his glass to hers in a toast. She clinks her own cup against his, and they both take a sip in silence. Automatically his eyes seek you out again, picking you out of the crowd as you talk to Superman. Diana's eyes follow his.

"Have you met our secretary yet?" she asks, curious. He shakes his head, throat feeling dry.

"No, I don’t think I have." he replies, trying to control the thudding of his pulse. She clicks her teeth at his answer, humming lightly.

"They're a civilian that helps us out. Batman hired them to try and manage PR, you know, when people think we aren't doing anything. They help keep those tabloids from running rampant, and they do a pretty good job of it." Kyle turns to look at her, eyebrow raised.

"Doesn't that make them a target?" he asks. "If they're a civilian at the front desk of the Justice League, isn't there enemies of you all that would love to get the chance to take a free hit?"

Diana shrugs in response. "There was at the start, and truthfully it was quite scary." she says. "But our enemies realised rather quickly that to be a mistake. There's always someone at the headquarters, and they just better hope that it isn't Batman's shift." She jokes, waving her hand. "Besides, everyone figured out pretty quick that they've got a guard dog watching 24/7. No one's coming to get them knowing that."

He huffs out a laugh, grin gracing his lips into a smile. "Who's that? Don't tell me it’s the Bat, I won't believe you."

Diana laughs, shaking her head. "No, it's not Batman." she says, eyes sparkling as she smiles. "I thought you would have known."

"Why?"

"Because he's a lantern." she says matter of factly, pushing off the wall as waving as she heads back into the small crowd. His heart thuds in his chest, world slowing down around him momentarily. Did she know about how he felt? rushed around his mind, making his hands twitch nervously. He excuses himself politely, wondering just how often he had to have been caught staring for Diana to put something like that together.

As he heads for the bathroom to wash his face, he fails to notice that you've since stopped your conversation with Superman, instead conversing with the Flash and Hal. If he had paid attention just a touch closer, he would have seen the way you stood a little closer to Hal than usual, and the respectful hand that snaked around your waist to sit on your hip.

Since the night of the party, Kyle found himself inextricably coming back to the Justice League base, day after day. Just for a chance to talk to you, a chance to see you, for your hands to accidentally brush against one another when you go to get water from the cooler. You'd give him a smile and a thank you each time, his heart softening after each one. He couldn’t help the daydream of what it would feel like to have you in his arms, and to wake up with you beside him. What your face would look like as he made your favourite meal after a long day of work or flying you up to the tallest building in the city so he could see the lights reflected in your eyes. Hearing the passing chatter of others did nothing to quell his racing heart either.

The rumours that floated around that you were getting close to a Green Lantern made his heart leap from his chest, hands tingling with excitement and blood rushing to his head. When there was any tearoom chatter that you were dating a Lantern, he brushed it off. He hadn't been that forward, had he?

He tried to push past it, smiling and striking up conversation with you a bit more. His lips longed to ask you questions about what the two of you were. He had just seen it as friends, but did you see it differently? Did you want to be with him even a fraction of the way that he wanted to be with you?

When you mention your respect for the work that the Lantern's did, giving him a genuine thanks, he swore that the sun came out in a halo behind you. Of course he played it off as well as he always did, lovesick smile pulling his lips back and dark hair flopping over his eyes as he laughs and tells you not to worry about it. Every compliment you give him, every time you talk about how much you liked a certain lantern in particular made his chest pound. His throat felt tight, brain racing at the way that you brought it up so casually.

Was this your way of signalling your interest in him? Was he being too dense?

Hope fluttered weakling in his chest each time, making him giddy. When he saw you with Hal, he waved politely at the two of you, carrying on his business. He so desperately wanted to say that if you wanted to get to know him better, that you could just ask him, not Hal. He didn't bite and he didn't have any intention of being rude to you. He chalked it up to you just being scared, a nervousness that he could relate to all too well.

That's why when he sees the two of you leaving one evening, he can only sigh dreamily from the sidelines. So in love and heart fluttering with hope he can barely register the arm Hal has thrown around your neck, or the fact that it's his jacket covering your shoulders. He doesn't take note of the way you kiss Hal's cheek rounding the corner, or the way his coworker smirks and leans down to whisper something in your ear.

Kyle Rayner was a man well and truly in enraptured, with eyes that were lovestruck and hopeful.

Even if that hope was a false one.

[sheegons]

OKAY SO WHO ASKED FOR A POST THAT DETAILS DAMIANS CONNECTIONS TO MAGIC?.. nobody? oh okay.

(be forewarned, this is long)

now after ignoring batman 666, let's see what we have.

ROBIN: SON OF BATMAN (2015)

now, in robin: son of batman #1 It's confirmed that after his death in batman incorporated, damian went to hell. Hell is usually connected with the more magical side of the dc universe, but that's not it.

The entirety of the comic delves into damians connections to more mystical things. mythical swords and magical ancient towers, weird extinct bat-dragons, magical cults that want to destroy the whole world, etc etc.

this is easily regarded as one of damians best comics and having peak damian characterisation, so obviously Damian being magically inclined can easily work well with his character.

Now, after a barrel load of compliments, let's get to the extremely negative side of things.

TEEN TITANS (2016)

Damian's cloned brother has magic and that sentence is about as much as i care for this book. Moving on.

BATMAN (2016)

Again, dog shit damian characterisation, but here we go. Damian here actually shows an ability to use a binding spell and has a wand, making some sort of deal with a random demon, but a far cry from damian apparently selling his soul in batman 666. Moving on finally out of rebirth because that was a bad time for Damian's character.

ROBIN (2021)

Now we go back to the good. Apparently from the maternal part of damians family, magic is more commonplace. ra's even having a whole spell book to his name. Robin 2021 kinda toys with the ghul family and the lazarus pits magical and devilish side which isn't new... but it's new to involve damian!

In the final parts of this story, Damian's heart specifically is used as a plot device, lord deathman even dubbing it as "the bloodstream of the demon" and ruh (ra's' mother) uses it as a power source to fuel demon summonings, which started the Lazarus rain event.

TEEN TITANS DARK (Unreleased)

Back in early 2023 (i think) dc teased a sort of "teen titans dark" with damian, black alice and monkey prince. The "dark" moniker referencing Justice league dark, a magic team made up of magic users that solve magical bullshit. It's a good book, recommended read, i just thought I'd add this to the pile.

Detective comics/Knight terrors

Now, including these two together because they're about the same topic: Dreams.

damian is confirmed to have some sort of control over dreams and sleep, defeating demons that show up in his sleep, yet never actually disappear when he wakes up. He also has an ability to stay awake after a massive worldwide phenomenon causes everyone, even the dream masters that taught damian, to sleep and experience night terrors.

Dreams are, again, connected to the magical side of the dc universe. Now I'm not going to pretend like i actually read sandman to you, i can't lie on ramadan, so let's all give me a pass here for my lack of understanding of all that.

Batman and robin (2023)

In this, damian mentions a bit of off screen monster hunting with Frankenstein and lays a trap that lights someone on fire. I used to think this was some sort of hex but this artwork is extremely unclear, but since Frankenstein is mentioned and from my knowledge dc's Frankenstein is magic let's pretend this is some sort.

As an extra note: this guy definitely died. There's no way about it, he got lit on fire with nobody helping him. He's gone. Damian just killed a man.

Extra Extra notes:

talia using magic!

now, i haven't included these examples in the "the ghuls have magic" segment because uh...

(batman: the doom that came to Gotham/dc bombshells)

yeah...

Not only are these interpretations of talia EXTREMELY orientalist but also just generally out of character and could've been done with any randomly introduced characters.

For the unknowing white american people in the crowd: arabs actually don't only dress in revealing "belly dancer" outfits and lanterns. i know, shocking, we actually wear normal clothes.

And just to add again, there's a lot of stories that include ra's having magic, but I'm not the biggest ra's head (lol) so i didn't read them all, i implore u to do your own research because I'm not doing it.

this about wraps it up. thank you to the magic damian believers may we all win someday.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 60)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (52) / Alexia Putellas x Character (20) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (10)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Join our WOSO Discord chat! Link in bio :)

((**6.1k**))

YFN POV

“Was that Alexia?” Lucy asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” YFN murmured, just as shocked.

“Calling you?”

She met Lucy’s green eyes – the ones that made the butterflies in her tummy do somersaults. “Don’t be jealous, Luce.” She teased, knowing full well that she wasn’t.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Is she okay?” She asked as she bent in front of the bed and patted YFN’s thigh. “Up you get, little one.”

YFN shuffled to the edge of the bed and pressed herself against Lucy’s strong back, wrapping her arm around her front and her good leg around her waist while the other stayed straight in her brace. Lucy stood and walked them to the bathroom. They had gotten used to getting around the house in all different ways, Lucy insisting on helping her everywhere.

YFN put her nose to the back of Lucy’s hair and breathed in her smell. She always smelled extra sweet after she’d just woken.

“She wants to talk… and also said Barca wants an update call with you two…” she murmured as she planted a soft, lingering kiss to the back of her neck in appreciation.

Lucy hummed happily. “Thank you for that.”

She placed her down gently on the sink in the bathroom and pulled the high stool to rest her leg on. At this point, they were a well-oiled operation.

“She’s coming over?”

“Yeah, I thought it’ll be good for her. I told her I’m interviewing you today and suggested that we can talk after it, but she said she wants to come and watch and be interviewed as well.”

“It does make sense doing hers soon as we won’t know when she’s headed back…” Lucy agreed as she removed her sling, and her shirt. The cool air of the bathroom hardened YFN’s nipples immediately and Lucy gave a smirk as she ducked down to kiss them. “Hello, friends.”

“You’re a child.”

“I hope not, otherwise we’ve got a real problem on our hands.”

YFN scoffed as Lucy put waterproof coverings over her collarbone bandage, and her arm cast. “You’re the cougar here.”

“It’s okay, mummy’s here.”

“Oh god, Luce.”

Lucy chuckled at her own joke as she usually did and finished taping the top of the soft plastic around her arm cast. She put a hand on the sink either side of her and leant it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy hearing me say that.”

YFN bit her lip instead of responding and Lucy leant in, her lips brushing over her bruising, her dimples, her lips. YFN gave a soft, agreeing sigh as she leant into her, but Lucy had already retreated teasingly with a smirk. She gave her a soft peck on the forehead before moving her attention down to wiggle the sleeping shorts and underwear from YFN. It was embarrassing for her; having to be looked after, though Lucy was so kind, so patient, and never made fun of her for it.

She was now naked sitting on the sink and trying to keep her arm still as if the sling were still on, all the while watching Lucy and blushing. The footballer was getting a large black bin bag that they’d been using to cover her knee brace while she showered which she was also ashamed to admit she was embarrassed at.

Lucy looked up at her, perhaps because of her silence, and saw her red cheeks. “Oh, little one. No need to be embarrassed, okay? It’s just me.”

She put the bag down and came close again, peppering little kisses onto her cheek. “I can’t help it. I wish I could…”

“Here…” Lucy stepped back and YFN watched as she stripped herself naked, putting their clothes into the laundry basket. She put her arms out and gave a little wiggle that made YFN laugh. “Now we’re even.”

“I think it’s less about the nakedness and more about the bin bag. But I do appreciate the view…”

Lucy winked as she came close again. “Little one, you could be in a crowd of people all dressed up in their little suits and dresses, and even wearing nothing but a bin bag, you’d still be the most beautiful.” She leant down and kissed her gently, pausing only to murmur against her lips. “And you’d be the only thing I’d see.”

They kissed slowly, loving; their tongues meeting briefly before a cold shiver from YFN had Lucy pulling away and sliding the bin bag over her leg. “Come on, we need to get you warm.”

“I still can’t handle this.”

“Calm down Bree, you’re acting like a fan,” Emily teased.

“But we are fans,” Bridget insisted as they looked out the large glass doors of the living room to where Lucy and Alexia were sitting together outside on a video call to Barcelona management. As if she knew they were talking about her, Lucy looked over and lifted her sunglasses up to flash her a wink. YFN returned a knowing smile from her position at the dining table; her work spread out in front of her.

“You’ve met Lucy before-” YFN started.

“-briefly!” Bridget interjected.

“And they’re both lovely.”

“And apparently Alexia is single too…” Emily muttered as if day-dreaming.

“Right here, Em.” Bridget groaned.

“Alright you two, less gawking and more prepping.”

Bridget and Emily had arrived shortly before Alexia and almost had a heart attack. It had apparently been bad enough for them to prepare themselves for filming an interview with Lucy, let alone la Reina herself.

YFN let them finish setting up their camera and the backdrop against the wall of the living room for the interview photos. YFN went through a few more questions she had to ask Alexia, as her interview had been a last-minute addition. When she arrived, she’d agreed to do it in English and so YFN made a note to use clear speech and simple wording. She was going to ask if she wanted Ridley there for translations, but she had chosen not to mention her just yet. She was always just a phone call away, and they could always edit it anyways.

Alexia came back inside from the video call first and YFN watched as Emily nervously directed her through how to stand and sit for her photos. A grey figure appeared suddenly next to her and she jumped, wincing at her collarbone as Chiquito rubbed his cheek against her jaw for attention.

“Hey little man,” she greeted with a kiss on the cheek. “Missing mum?”

That had been a surprise to YFN, when Alexia had arrived with Chiquito. She knew how much he meant to Ridley.

His attention turned to watch Alexia posing politely for photographs while YFN started to work again… until her phone rang. Reading a line, she picked it up without checking to see who it was.

“Hello, YFN speaking.”

“Hey YFN, it’s Leah…”

“Oh! Hey mate, how are you?”

“Yeah good, good.”

“How’s the training coming along?”

“Yeah, really good. Not fully back training just yet, I will be soon.”

“But you’re running again?!”

“It feels great to be fair. Really good being around the girls again too. I’m sick of not being able to play.” She sounded a little frustrated which was completely understandable. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Here I am complaining about me while you’re stuck as home all bandaged up.”

YFN chuckled as Lucy now approached her and wrapped her arms around her from behind. “It’s okay, Leah. It means more time with Lucy which is never enough. She’s been really amazing the way she’s looked after me. I feel like a newborn.”

“Remember that I can help out too…”

“I will and I appreciate the offer. Now, what can I do for you? Are you just checking up or…?”

“I… look I’ll be honest, I want to talk to you about Jordan. We’re meeting up tomorrow night and you’re good to talk to about these things. Are you busy today?”

Lucy nuzzled into her hair while YFN looked around. “Uh… yeah kind of. I’m doing interviews for Lucy and Alexia today so we’re just at Lucy’s place-”

“-our place,” Lucy interjected too quiet for Leah to hear.

“Our place,” she corrected. “With two girls from Lumos to do some filming. Are you not training today?”

“No, not today. Physio today. The girls are training hard for the game tomorrow.”

“Ah… well I can let you know when I’m free after if you want? Lucy is taking Alexia to a boxing class later on.”

“I mean, I could just come over now if that’s okay? I’ll bring you all some lunch if you want.”

She felt Lucy nodding eagerly against the back of her head and she chuckled. “That would be amazing, thanks! A bit of this has been last minute, so we haven’t actually organised lunch yet.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

They hung up and Lucy’s lips found her cheek. “I fell in love with a real problem-solver, didn’t I?”

Lucy took her photos, grinning in some, almost smouldering in others and YFN had to work hard to pay attention to what she was doing.

“So just talk normally, like we’re having a usual conversation. Any time you want to pause, we can. Any time you need to find an answer first, we’ll edit those parts out. And if you need a translation, I can organise that too.”

“Ridley?” Alexia asked.

YFN nodded hesitantly. “Is that okay?”

She nodded in agreement as something crossed behind her eyes. YFN put a hand on her arm to bring her back. “We’ll talk after the interviews, okay?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“I’m done,” Lucy said, joining them at the table. “Who’s going first?”

“Alexia first and then you, but I’m more than happy for you to get involved from off camera in each other’s interviews. It’ll make it feel a bit more normal and relaxed.”

“Oh, I can do that,” she grinned.

Bridget and Emily finished packing their camera away and joined them; YFN using the opportunity to discuss with them all the plan and what she expected. All five of them spoke a little more until it was time to begin the interview and they moved to the couch.

“Up you come, little one.” Lucy murmured as she picked her up and carried her to the couch. She blushed at a few looks she received but she wasn’t embarrassed. Lucy settled her down into a comfortable position on the couch, making sure her water was close by, and her notes, as Alexia settled down facing her with one leg folded up. She looked comfortable, though a little nervous which YFN was confident would disappear after a few minutes.

And it did. Alexia relaxed into the interview and YFN with it, as she was just as new to the concept as the footballer. They started off with football, mentioning YFN’s own current disabilities and Alexia able to show that comforting side of her. Lucy hopped in with a few cheeky comments of course, though stayed silent as the conversation moved a little bit more serious as they spoke about her family. Her English was easily understandable, even when she was struggling a little emotionally talking about her dad. As if he knew, Chiquito jumped up onto her lap and settled there as if he were Alexia’s pet. She paused to see if she should put him down, but YFN just smiled and segued the conversation back into the fun. Into the side of the footballer that people didn’t usually hear about like her hobbies, holiday destinations, personal quirks etc.

Leah arrived towards the end of the interview and could do nothing to avoid the camera as she came in with apologies. She pulled the sunglasses up to hold back her hair and leant over the couch to greet Alexia and YFN with a kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll move.” She apologised as she put the few bags of food that she was carrying, off camera.

YFN loved it, though. It felt relaxed, and real. She knew it’d be something she’d keep in the interview. People rarely saw players like Alexia and Leah interact.

The interview took about thirty minutes in total, and then they stopped for a lunch break with the food Leah had brought them.

“Did you get this from that café around the corner?” Lucy asked as she sucked some sauce from her thumb.

“Yeah it had some good reviews, so I thought I’d try it. You’ve been there?”

“One of my favourites.” She said as if not wanting to waste time talking when she could be eating.

“Are you all sorted for tomorrow?” Leah asked YFN.

“Oh, yes. I organised a lot of it from the hospital, and so everybody’s prepped for the games on Sunday… tomorrow.”

“Where are you two going to be?” Leah asked Bridget and Emily who were watching the conversation like a tennis match, almost too nervous to speak.

“We’re doing the Gunners, Hammers game at Meadow Park,” Emily said with a smile.

“They’re Gooners so I try to keep them close to your club,” YFN explained.

A piece of salad fell out of her sandwich and Lucy was quick to help.

“Let me cut it up for you, little one.”

She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as she took her plate and cut her sandwich up into smaller pieces, so it was easier to eat with one hand. She didn’t miss the longing looks that Alexia and Leah flashed their way.

“Are you going to the Lioness games next week?” YFN asked Leah, hoping the subject wouldn’t be tender.

She nodded. “I was hoping you could come with me, if you’re comfortable with it?”

“I’d be happy to go if the doctor clears me to start putting a little weight on my leg next week…”

“To Scotland?” Lucy asked, worried.

“Maybe… I know it’s important for you…”

“…and we’ll get better seats if we have you with us. And better access.”

“Not good reasoning,” Lucy said protectively while YFN chuckled.

“I think it’s great reasoning, Luce. Plus, I love seeing you play for England. You’re a maniac.”

“She’s more…careful at Barcelona,” Alexia agreed.

“She’s very good in the important games,” YFN said, enjoying teasing her as she took a cut up piece of her sandwich and ate it.

“Yes yes, very scary,” Alexia said and her accent made it that much funnier.

“Okay, is it attack Lucy day?” Lucy grumbled as she took another bite.

As the girls were tidying up after lunch, Lucy was helping YFN change her clothes and settle back onto the couch ready for their interview. She wanted to look like it was filmed on a different day.

“Little one?” She said quietly.

“That’s my name.”

“Are you okay if I go to the Arsenal game tomorrow afternoon? I wanted to ask Alexia at boxing if she wants to go…”

YFN knew full well that Lucy wasn’t an Arsenal supporter, she was a Man City supporter having had played for them, and so she knew that her objective was to keep Alexia entertained. “You’re a good person, Luce.”

Lucy smiled. They’d done that thing where they’d communicated without communicating.

“Thanks.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek. “And maybe I’ll ask Leah…”

“Not Leah.”

Lucy’s head tilted in question. “No?”

“No…”

Lucy could see she had something else in mind and didn’t question it. “Okay then. Maybe Ridley will want to come over and spend time with you?”

“Sure, if she’s back…”

“Back?”

Before she could answer, the girls were back around them and they settled in for their interview, sitting much closer than she and Alexia had been, with Narla joining them on the couch.

Lucy was such a natural in front of camera. She was so confident, cocky even and very flirty which made YFN have to hide a grin back to her, though she knew her dimples were giving her away. She gave the same attitude back, proudly drawing goofy grins out of Lucy during the interview.

She’d conducted it the same way as Alexia’s. They’d started with football, both Leah and Alexia throwing comments in off camera that she either answered or was teased with, then they moved to a bit more depth when speaking about her family and the bullying nature of the industry, and then finishing with happiness, fun, flirting, food, Spain, Narla. She’d had no idea that Lucy would be so openly flirting with her, though she didn’t mind it, it gave it more character and showed a side of Lucy the public didn’t really get to see that often. Anything more personal, she would keep just for themselves.

“Can we do player on player?” Lucy asked when they were done.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Leah and I, maybe?”

Alexia looked confused but YFN knew she was giving the two time to speak alone. She nodded. “If Leah is comfortable with it…”

“I can’t promise anything will be postable,” she laughed. “But sure, let’s do it.”

“Okay, I have a list of generic questions you two can use if you’d like.” YFN said and gave them each a copy so they’d have something to work with.

Lucy helped YFN make her way outside to their outdoor seating with Alexia where they still had a good view of the pair inside being filmed chatting away by Emily and Bridget.

“Ah, I wonder what Lucia was doing,” Alexia admitted.

“She’s pretty good at subtlety,” YFN admitted as she watched her laughing away with Leah as she pet Narla between them.

“Yes, she is. I didn’t know that until she… met you.”

YFN was aware that Alexia and Lucy had gotten much closer recently and that’s why she’d only just learnt that about her.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Si… yes… Ridley.”

“I assumed so. I noticed you had Chiquito…”

Alexia smiled at the cat who was getting attention from Emily as Bridget filmed.

“She gave him me when you said I was lonely.”

She always knew Ridley was chivalrous but that was something else. That was romance. “That’s a pretty big gesture.”

Alexia nodded. “She save me yesterday.”

“What happened?!”

“My knee was frustrating me and so I push myself hard to… to see if it can help but I overwork my body.”

“And Riddles was with you?”

“No… no she sees me and take… taken me back to the home and look after me.”

“She was just stopping by to see how you were doing and found you?”

“Si.”

“And that upset you?”

“No… it was nice. She look after me with food and my knee…” she made a gesture.

“…massaging?” YFN suggested.

“Si, massaging and… and we had nice day and dinner and she make alarm for me to wake up for Meg.”

“Meg the physio?”

“Si. She… si.”

She didn’t feel good about the way she avoided speaking about Meg. “What aren’t you saying?”

Alexia sighed and averted her eyes. “We argue.”

“Argued about what?”

“About her carry me.”

“Ah. She’s used to that, though.”

“Yes, she say that. She talk something about SERE?”

She understood where it was going. “SERE training? Yes.”

“I make her tell me…”

“Ah.” It was one thing that Ridley hated speaking about. That, and her family. “Did she tell you?”

“She say… she say they break her. Drown a…and starve and…” she gestured again.

“Tortured?”

“Si.” Alexia’s eyes met hers. “It is true?”

“It’s worse that you can ever imagine. Riddles was being kind. They make them unbreakable. They do all of that and… they even sexually humiliate them.”

“Humil…” Alexia started. YFN found the translation and showed her and watched her face pale. “This… this is why she…”

“Why she sleeps around? One of the reasons, yes. She’s very comfortable with her body.”

“She does not open to me.”

“She’s…” YFN let out a large sigh. “She’s very complicated and very simple at the same time. She hasn’t broken, I’m assuming?”

Alexia shook her head. “She… she tells me to go with Meg.”

That didn’t surprise her. Ridley would want her to be happy and from what Alexia hadn’t said, Meg liked her.

YFN wondered just how much she should say. She thought for a minute about what would be best for Ridley. Was Alexia what was best for her? She saw the way they acted around each other, and it was almost like herself and Lucy. Lucy. She looked inside and found her looking at her, still talking to Leah. She’d always wanted Ridley to find someone to make her happy, to fully open up to. Someone other than herself.

YFN reached out and gently took Alexia’s fingers in her own and met her eyes.

“Alexia… she won’t break. She won’t break, because if she does… she will lose herself.” Alexia’s eyes flooded with questions. “One of the only reasons she got through the military, through the deaths and the lives she took and the torture…” She almost choked on that word. “Was because she wasn’t doing it for herself. She told herself again and again that she wouldn’t break because of us. Me. Her brother. Her mum. And so, if she lets herself give in, then she’ll essentially be losing her anchor. The one thing to keep her grounded and sane. That love she buries so deep.”

Alexia’s eyes flooded with tears. “So… so there is no way… no way to love for her? No way to let me in?”

YFN’s heart broke for her. “She doesn’t believe so…”

A tear broke free from each eye and Alexia wiped them away with her spare hand. YFN squeezed the fingers she was holding. “But I do.”

Her head whipped up. “You do?”

“I really do.”

“How?” The question was almost whispered and YFN was worried she would feel like she was betraying her friend, but she felt the opposite. Like she was saving her.

“She needs to know you’re not going anywhere.” Alexia listened eagerly, and empathetically. “She lost her mum. Brother. Almost me. Friends. So many friends. She needs to know that you’re here to stay and that you won’t leave her. She never attaches because she thinks she’ll lose them and it hurts her too deep. So don’t try to break her. Let her pull you into her bubble herself. It will take a long time, and it’ll be frustrating and maybe feel like you aren’t getting anywhere with her, but you will be. I promise. You’ve already started and you haven’t even noticed….”

Alexia blinked and YFN knew she was thinking about the ten months she’d admired her from afar.

“She… want a home.”

YFN nodded. “She does. She planned on making us one but I have Luce now…” The thought of a home with Lucy was heart warming to her, though she felt horrible that Ridley didn’t have that same feeling. “Because Lucy is my home. She made that apartment in London for her brother… she made a home in Australia for her mum. But all of that is just material. Look close enough, Alexia, and you’ll see she’s trying to find a home, and she doesn’t even know that she’s doing it. She doesn’t realise that home is about people. Or… a person.”

Alexia fiddled with her fingers, and YFN knew she was doing it subconsciously.

“Alexia, please… please don’t break her heart. Don’t try to force her. Don’t try to break her. And if you don’t have any intention on being there for her whenever she needs then please… walk away now. I’m saying this as someone who loves her so, so much, you have no idea.” YFN felt herself tearing up. “We’ve been through everything together, and I couldn’t handle it if you hurt her.”

“You love her.”

“I do. I really, really do. And I would drop everything to pick up the broken pieces of her and put her back together again. But please, don’t put her in that situation. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. She deserves everything good.”

“I won’t hurt her…”

“You’re going to stay?”

Alexia nodded, as if it were the only choice. “Yes, I stay.”

“You have my number. You call me or text me anytime, okay?”

“I will.” Her voice was husky.

“You need to let her know you’re not going anywhere…” she repeated. “That you’re ‘right here’.”

After the Lionesses were done with their player on player, Bridget and Emily passed YFN the footage and left, taking the spare sandwiches and pastries upon Leah’s insistence, YFN making sure to compliment them on how well they did. Shortly after, Lucy and Alexia headed out to their boxing session in the city. Lucy had made time before they left, however, to quietly make sure YFN was okay after seeing her red eyes, ducking down next to her and letting her know just how much she loved her.

“You’re an amazing friend, little one. An amazing person. An amazing girlfriend. I’m so lucky. I love you.” She’d whispered to her; the two sharing a kiss before she went.

“Luce… come back to me,” she’d murmured in return, giving her a longing look. It felt strange to say, as they’d been inseparable the past week, but she wanted her. Always. Especially after the conversation she’d had with Alexia.

“I’ll be back before you know it, love. I’ll bring dinner home.”

“I love a breadwinner.”

She’d grinned, teasingly. “That’s mummy to you.”

“Argh,” She’d replied, disgusted, and shoved her and pointed to the door. “Go, cougar.”

“Isn’t there only three years between you two?” Leah asked as Lucy chuckled her way to the front door.

“Yes, but the maturity differences evens it out… and then some.”

She heard Lucy scoff from the doorway as it clicked shut, and then there were two.

“You must feel pretty attached to that couch by now…” Leah said.

“Oh, you have no idea. Pretty sure my body is imprinted on it.”

She let out a chuckle. “So, it appears I’m not the only therapy you’re giving today.”

“Did Lucy say…?”

She shook her head. “No, I saw you two out the window. Alexia and Ridley, right?”

“Yeah. It’s much, much more complicated than your situation.”

“Have you spoken to Jordan?”

“Yeah a bit actually. She doesn’t like Birmingham too much, I think.”

“Do you feel like you’re missing your home there?”

Chiquito launched up onto the couch, finding interest in Leah before climbing his way over a now sleeping Narla, to settle in YFN’s lap.

“Is it too corny to say that I feel like I’m missing my home whenever I’m without Lucy?”

“A little.” She agreed. “But I know exactly how you feel.”

“Like you’re missing your home without her?”

She nodded. “I’ve struggled over a year without her. I miss her and Blu and our home. She used to live with me in London and we’d see each other every day and then… then I ruined both of our lives.”

“You did it to protect her.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t. Because you should have done it with her.”

“I know,” she admitted, not able to look up from the couch. “She’s my person and I just… I fucked it up.”

YFN didn’t let that negativity sit long. “Dory said you protected her the other week from the paparazzi…”

“I told them not to approach her or harass her and they didn’t listen.”

“But you told them. That meant a lot to her.”

Her eyes came up to meet YFN’s. “It did? I was worried she’d feel like I was going behind her back.”

“On the contrary, she thought it showed how much you cared.”

Leah’s shoulders dropped, a little relieved.

“And she also said you and she had a really, really good night.”

“It wasn’t perfect.”

“Perfection isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s about the imperfections, the working together, the unknown. She was telling me in the hospital all about it and it felt like it had a year ago. Natural and stress-free and beautiful.”

“She said that?”

“In her own words. She also loves your hugs.”

Leah gave a sad chuckle. “Yeah, she loves those.”

“You know all of this already. So why did you want to talk to me?”

“I guess I feel like talking to you is the closest I can be to her… because I know how close you two have become.”

YFN nodded, understanding. “My whole life changed the day I saw her on that beach.”

“Now you have Jord, and Lucy, and because of you, she’s talking to me again…”

“Do you have another date planned?”

“Tomorrow night. I wanted to know what you think I should do... or if she’s expecting anything?”

“Dory just wants to be around you. You make her happy.”

“I was going to try and cook for her again. I’ve been taking lessons and I actually know where I messed up last time.”

“Can I suggest something else?”

“Go ahead, probably better than my ideas.”

“I think you should go and watch her game.”

“In Birmingham?”

“Yep. You’re not a sub at the Arsenal game, right?”

She shook her head.

“So go to Birmingham and show her that you’re there to support her. Show her you’re willing to go out of your way for her. Don’t have expectations because she needs time, you know that, but just go and… be. You can take her to a restaurant after the game, or go to our place and spend time with Blu and cook or order in. You’re more than welcome to use my bedroom if she’ll let you sleep there, but like I said, no expectations. Expect that you’ll be driving back that night. We both know she’d never let you, but still, just let her have all of the control, yeah? Give her that power and see how she uses it.”

“You don’t think she’ll be overwhelmed if I show up?”

“Honestly? I think it’d melt her heart. You watch her face when she sees you, Leah. In that first split second that it takes to recover her expression… you’ll see everything she’s feeling.”

Ridley POV

Ridley was staring out the window of her hotel room, unable to break her mind from her. She’d tried so hard and every time she got to the point where she knew she’d succeed, she fell back into it, because she wanted to think about her. About the way she always looked sad… because it made her happy expression that much sweeter. About the way she stood her ground and challenged Ridley like no one had before.

She looked back down at the follow notification from Alexia that she’d just received. Of course, that came with a multitude of other people following suit, being la Reina fans, and she smiled as she looked at her profile picture. Alexia in her beloved number 11 Barcelona jersey; that blonde dyed hair Ridley was obsessed with, up in her high ponytail.

She’d received the notification an hour or so after her meeting, and as she stared at it a little longer, she pressed the button to follow her back.

She found herself scrolling through her posts, unable to stop herself from pausing and admiring one particular photo of her lying face down on the front of a yacht. Her hair was in a messy bun, her tattoos stunning, her ass… was something that had Ridley wondering how she even existed. The things she’d sacrifice to be behind her as she laid like that in front of her… and then there was her hand. It laid palm up, her fingers partially curled and begging for Ridley to entwine her fingers with. She looked so… soft.

Her phone started buzzing and she tilted her head in wonder as Alexia’s name popped up on the screen, just minutes after she’d followed her back.

“Thinking about me, were you?” She murmured in Spanish as she answered.

“Hello to you too.”

“Good afternoon, la Reina. What can I do for you?”

“You can have dinner with me.” Her voice sounded like honey through the phone.

“Oh?”

“I had fun the other day and you’re right, I’ve been too much. I was hoping just to spend some more time with you.”

“You’re leaving London?”

“I never said that.”

Ridley’s stomach did a sickly thing at the thought of Alexia leaving. “Would you like to leave?”

“No, I’d like to stay and spend time with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

That settled her nerves a little.

“So,” Alexia continued. “Dinner and a swim, maybe?”

“I’m not sure if I’ll be back tonight…”

“Back?”

Ridley hummed. “Yes, I have another meeting with a client and it may push me to stay another night if it goes for too long.”

“Where are you?”

“Currently? Switzerland.”

“What…?!” It was more disheartened than shocked.

“Let me just have a look at the flights. I was originally planning to stay here another night.”

“I don’t want to put you out…”

“You could never put me out, Lex. It sounds like a great idea.” Anything to be around her. “Just let me check.” Ridley scrolled through the flights and found two potentials. One landing at 6pm, and the other at 7:30pm. Though, she knew there was more chance she’d be on the later flight given how frustratingly underprepared the clients had been. “I have one that I will most likely be on. I’ll get to the apartment around 8pm, if that works?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

“Would you like me to organise it?”

“No, I’ve already booked a place for 8pm. I’ll call and change the time to a little later.”

“Oh, you have? How presumptuous of you.”

“I learned from the best.”

Ridley chuckled at her humour. “Are you going to dress up for me?”

“Only if you dress up for me.” Cheeky, but not flirty.

“Deal. Let’s both dress nice for each other. I’m heading into my meeting now, but I’ll see you tonight, la Reina.”

Alexia POV

She was nervous. It was 6:30pm and Ridley was going to be at the apartment in the next hour and a half. She’d barely had time to buy a dress with Lucia before picking up Chiquito and getting back to the apartment for her rehab appointment. She’d forgotten about it so late that it had been too late to cancel, and now she was checking her watch for the tenth time to make sure she left before Ridley arrived.

That wouldn’t be good, especially after the discussion she’d had with Blau about letting Ridley know she was always going to be there.

“How is it feeling today?” Meg asked as she scraped her thigh with a plastic device. It was always so painful. Alexia groaned and gripped the gym bench harder from where she sat.

“Okay until you do that…”

Meg giggled. “But it helps. You know it does.”

Alexia didn’t agree with her. She’d been very careful to not encourage her, especially with the physio’s wandering hands.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

The question was so off-topic as they’d been professional for the whole session thus-far.

“Si,” she groaned again. It felt like she was peeling her skin off. “I do.”

“Oh? What are you doing?”

“M…Meg I do not wanting to talk about this now.” Alexia said, tilting her head back and squeezing her eyes shut in pain.

“Almost done,” she giggled again and finished up, starting to massage instead. After a few more moments of silence, Meg spoke again, seeming to build confidence from somewhere. “I think you should spend the night with me.”

Alexia’s head shot up and her eyes opened to see Meg staring at her, very, very seriously.

“I have plan tonight…” Was all she could say.

“Then cancel,” she murmured as she moved close to Alexia. “We can hang out and have some fun like we always do, yes?”

Their sessions had been fun, sure, but it was bold of her to make a move. Of course, Alexia should have expected it, having led her on with her flirting the past few sessions.

Meg got even closer now while Alexia stared, wide-eyed and worried she’d hurt her feelings.

“Your session is done,” she whispered as her lips found Alexia’s.

Alexia didn’t kiss her back, she just stared, stunned and pulled away, unable to find words.

A voice sounded from the doorway then and Alexia’s head snapped to where Ridley stood with an expression that was far too neutral.

“Should I come back later?”

[weixuldo]

No Attachments pt 2

Jedi! Anakin x F/Dancer!Reader

a/n: so idk y this story appealed so much to me, but I just wanted to write pining casue I haven't done that in a while... I hope you all enjoy the second part of this mini series :)

Slight NSFW

Anakin’s growing interest doesn’t go unnoticed

Warnings: cursing, anakin is a little bit of a perv, exhibitionism, voyurism, horny thoughts, cursing, fantasies, masturbation, cannon typical violence, mentions of sexual harassment

________________________

The colorful lights of the club shone perfectly against your skin as you enchanted the audience- you made sure to dress up extra nice tonight though because your little jedi was in attendance. 

The duo had been coming in every few days for the past couple of weeks to monitor the areas, get new information, and to search for any dodgy characters.

Once you realized they would only be here on certain days, you decided to switch up your outfit cycle and routines; you said you wanted the younger of the two and you knew just how to get him. 

Today was a normal day- the pair walked in and greeted your manager and the other employees; of course the younger, whom you learned was named “Anakin”, came up to greet you with a nervous smile.

Even after meeting several times, he just couldn’t seem to get a hold of himself when you were in his vicinity. 

You noticed his lingering eyes as you weaved your way through the crowds each night, his sweaty palm when he shook your hand after a check-in (he noticed his perspiration and began offering his gloved hand instead).

The way he’d bashfully look away once you locked eyes with him- he was totally smitten. 

The times he chose to “check-in” also didn't go unnoticed; he always pulled you aside right after a performance or right after you switched outfits (he really just wanted an excuse to gaze upon you for just a moment longer). 

Little did you know that you were always on his mind- when he left the entertainment district and went back to the temple, no matter how hard he tried, you just simply would not leave his thoughts. Your perfect body haunted him as he would try to resist his natural urges. 

He was better than this and he knew it! So why couldn't he stop himself from imagining you, spread out on his bed at the temple in one of your little outfits, beckoning him with hooded eyes. 

“Anakin” you would call in a sultry tone, drawing him in. 

He’d ravage your body with hungry kisses and pull at the perfectly fit clothing stuck to your body.

How many nights had he stayed awake with the company of his own hand, just imagining you around him?

He’d watched every one of your shows- he had seen your hips, how flexible you were, how calculated you were… he needed you to himself.

__________________________

You finished your main dance for the night and had a few private sessions lined up for some very eager patrons. You didn’t mind doing the private dances, it brought in good money- but they could be… uncomfortable sometimes. 

The lace of your newest lingerie set brushed your thighs as you pulled it up; the first patron was a regular whom you really did not like- he was rude, touchy, and would often try to convince you to do things above your pay-grade…lovely way to start the night. 

The dim hallway was lined with what looked like velvet and rhinestones, an obvious reminder of what you were here to do. 

At the end of the hall were your assigned private booths, your patron was already waiting in there- you could feel the sleazy aura from behind the door. With a sigh you fixed a fake smile onto your face and strided for the door. 

You prepared to knock but you felt a demanding presence behind you

Anakin. 

Your perfectly painted lips curled into a smile and you gently nibbled on your lower lip before turning around. He stood a few feet from you, back straitened, arms crossed, and legs holding a domineering stance. 

“Well look who it is, what can I do you for? Oops! I mean do for you” you teased with a confident smirk. 

The jedi’s scarred eye twitched before he unfurled his arms and strode towards you, “need to do a check-in” he said bluntly before looking down at the floor (so cute). 

“I’ve got a dance I gotta do first- can it wait for a minu-”

“No, tell that pervert he can get another dancer to straddle his lap- you’re occupied” he stated; his demanding tone sent shivers up your spine. 

Funny he thought the people who pay to see you were creeps when he does the same things for free… just the other day you heard him stroking himself in the employee refresher; the fast plaps of his dick sliding through his strong hands, his concealed groans, and breathy pants… you heard it all- and you knew exactly why he felt the need to do that while he was on shift. Quite hypocritical of him. 

“Pervert, huh? Well I happen to need these pervs to come in and request dances so I can pay my bills” you said back to the man standing in front of you. 

He stepped forward and pulled out a small device from his utility belt and fiddled with the controls, you stood on your tippy toes to peek at what he was doing. Once he was done he turned the screen towards you and impatiently muttered, “there, now may we proceed with the check-in?” .

The small device showed your banking account and a slip for a transfer of 3500 credits- holy shit!

“Anakin, what?” you said in shock. 

“Now you don’t have to complain about losing money from that man” he said blankly before guiding you back to your dressing room. 

You knew the Jedi temple had a stash of funds, but that was just crazy! 3500 credits to skip one dance! 

As he guided you Anakin mulled over what to discuss with you in the room- he had just “checked in'' earlier today and both of you knew there wasn’t anything that went on in between then and now.

To be honest, he just didn’t want you going in there and dancing for someone… he didn’t like the idea of you doing that for anyone in private (unless it was him). 

Once you reached your room, you sat comfortably on your sofa and he took the seat adjacent to you. He was about to speak when a pile of your fabric began to move- Anakin’s senses heightened and he was ready to attack anything that came out. 

“Nechaska, my sweet girl! C'mere '' you smiled calling for your fluffy loth cat. 

She hurried to your side and hopped into your lap with a content purr. Anakin scoffed at the cat, a little embarrassed it startled him so much. 

“Nechaska?” he questioned, “you speak Huttese?”.

“Tagwa, um u jedai?” you responded with a smile.

“Tagwa mee'm tuta tatooine” he said, calling out his home planet. 

“Very nice- I like your accent” you smiled at his blushing face. 

“And I like your kitty” he smirked, pointing as Nachaska growled at the strange man in front of her, though both of you knew which kitty he was referring to. 

“You like my kitty? Wanna play with her” you flirted back with a laugh before coaxing the ball of fluff in your lap to back down. 

Yes I would, Anakin thought to himself before he strode closer and squatted down slowly so that he was eye height with the loth cat in your pretty lap. 

“Nene” you cooed, using her nickname, “It’s ok baby, he’s not gonna hurt you”. 

Anakin slowly extended his gloved hand but the cat swatted it away; she hissed once more before sinking her claws into his glove. Your eyes widened at her peculiar behavior before you pulled her away. 

“Nechaska! Bad girl- we don’t claw people! Are you alright Anakin?” you asked worriedly.

Anakin’s eyes were trained on your cleavage as your robe slid off your shoulder as you calmed your cat down and it didn’t help when you called his name so breathlessly (it made his dick stir). 

“Oh yea, i’m good” he said, snapping out of his trance. 

“She has really sharp claws, are you sure you’re ok?” you asked again. 

“Yea, don’t worry about it doll, can't feel it anyways” he laughed. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

He shrugged and began to take his glove off; you had never seen him without it. As it slid down his arm the fabric and skin was replaced by cool metal- a prosthetic! Did he lose it in battle-

“See, not a scratch- you don't have to worry about me” he said before reaching to pet your cat with his flesh hand, “She probably could tell it was metal- I’ve found that animals prefer the real thing” he smiled as she nuzzled her face against his large hand.

His large, strong, veiny hand. The tendons pulled as he maneuvered his fingers around Nene’s soft coat. His long fingers looked a little too appealing; wonder what would they feel like inside of-

“You’ve got a really nice pussy here” he said with a smirk, still looking at the cat (and not you). 

“Yea, she’s really sweet” you said before pulling her from his reach, “Now what did you need to talk to me about?” you said impatiently. 

He looked down with a smile and shook his head; he could tell you were jealous of the attention he was giving your pet- it was cute.

“Just wanted to ask if you had any more info or if you’d overheard anything lately?” he said as he took his normal seat on the velvety couch adjacent to your vanity. 

“Ani- what would I have heard? I’ve been on stage all night” you sighed; you didn't even realize you had shortened the Jedi’s name (it was a habit for you to give everyone nicknames, especially since you’d been in this business to long- people loved a good pet name). 

“What did you just call me?” the Jedi asked, placing his elbows firmly on his knees and leaning forward. 

He seemed displeased; you inhaled sharply. 

“Sorry, ‘ts a habit- I just shortened names a lot, I didn’t mean to offend you” you sputtered out as you subconsciously held Nene closer to your chest; her purrs against your chest gave you comfort. 

What you didn’t know was Anakin had to slide forward because his dick perked up at the name; he called you into this meeting so he couldn’t just leave now- but he also didn’t want you seeing his obvious hard-on.

…Especially just from his name. 

“It’s alright-” he said deeply. 

“I won’t call you that again, My apol-”

“No!” he half shouted, half pleaded; he cleared his throat and shook his head, “no, you’re good, sweetheart”. 

Sweetheart…

You almost had to suppress a moan as you clenched your thighs together. Anakin observed you and tried to analyze what was going through your mind- was the name too much?

Sure you were a flirty person but he could never tell if you actually meant it or if it was just your work persona. Either way, sometimes he just had to take a risk. 

“Well then, Ani… What other knowledge can I offer you?” you batted your lashes finally gaining your footing again. 

Before he could answer there was a familiar knock on your door, “Hey Z! C’mon in” you said standing. 

Your boss walked in somberly with Obi-Wan and another dancer, “Excuse the interruption my dear, but a new development has just arisen in the case”.

“Anakin, we need to talk to this young woman, now” the bearded man beckoned. 

“Would you be ok to do another dance tonight? Since Rini needs to be spoken to…” Z asked anxiously, his pale blue hands wringing around his robes. 

“Of course, Z” you said as the jedi and your coworker left the room. 

“What’s going on?” you asked worriedly once the door was closed. 

The tall twi’lek shook his head and you ran to his side as he buried his face in his hands. 

“Tarkir was found in the back alley, disarmed and severely injured” he explained and you allowed your Nene to sit in his lap. 

Takir was a Togruta who was a few years older than you who worked as head of security at the club. You and him didn’ talk much but there was a general sense of comradery among the club’s employees.

But you did know that he and Z had been together since you had worked at the establishment (which was years…). 

“Maker?! Where is he now? Is he going to be alright?” you asked, placing a comforting hand on Z’s back. 

“He’s been taken to a med center but I’m not sure if he’ll pull through…” Z sniffled.

“I'm so sorry Z- Is there anything I can do?” 

He shook his head, “No, but thank you dear… But Rini-”

“What about Rini?”

His fingers ran through your cat’s fur as he calmed himself (you’d never seen him so vulnerable). 

“She- She has been involved with the crimes… and the patron- Nevermind, I’m sure the Jedi will fill you in” he wiped at the tears forming in his eyes. 

“No- I need to know that you’ll be ok, I don’t want to leave you like this Z” you said as you placed your hands on his shoulders. 

He shook his head, “I’m fine- What would help me the most is if you would perform Rini’s number since she’s probably going to be arrested in a few hours” he attempted to joke and you nodded. 

“Alright” 

____________________________________

That night was the last time you saw the jedi pair; with the case solved, there was no reason for them to stick around.

The whole club had kinda gotten used to seeing them; honestly kind of a shame they wouldn’t be around anymore. 

Months went by and people moved on, but you couldn't remove Anakin from your mind- you really did start to like him… But it was relieving to know the immediate danger was gone. 

You still weren't really sure what actually occurred, but you did know that Rini was taken to the jedi temple and promptly replaced. Z hired a new head of security and spent more time at home caring for his lover and less time at the club. 

Things had definitely changed- for the first time in years you were not enjoying your work anymore. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why but you had begun searching for other jobs.

Sure the crimes had been absolved but something about the place just felt unsafe- especially since Z wasn’t there to manage it full time anymore. 

Tonight was the same as always, you got ready, warmed up, and headed backstage to wait for your cues. Recently your dancing had been lackluster- of course the patrons still enjoyed the show, but your heart just wasn't in it anymore. 

The presenter announced your oh-so familiar stage name and you strutted onstage. The LED lights of the club flashed as your song began. Without much effort you strutted down the stage to the silver pole and completed a full carousel swivel before landing in a split. The crowd cheered as you maneuvered your legs into a new position.

There were more patrons than usual tonight; was there a holiday you weren’t aware of? You scanned the crowd to get a feel of what kind of people you would be entertaining here tonight- they seemed kind of rowdy.

You almost missed your next move when your eyes landed on a familiar face; those piercing blue eyes, that scar- Anakin.

As you continued your performance, he watched intently, eyes never leaving your form. He really wasn’t supposed to be here but it had been too long since he saw you. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remove your enchantment from his mind. 

Night after night, he dreamed only of you; some nights he woke to stained boxer shorts, others, he had to rut his hips into his mattress to suppress his desire. 

Finally, today he was able to slip away from the temple to take some much needed personal time; Obi-Wan had asked him what his plan was and he explained he needed to go into the city to look at new parts for his arm.

Obviously that was a lie, because Anakin had just repaired it about a week ago, but Anakin had a feeling Obi-Wan already knew what he was doing. 

He donned civilian clothes and headed into the heart of the bustling city, ready to see you again. 

And here you were, dancing across the stage- how he missed the colored lights across your soft skin; he needed to speak with you. Your song finished and he practically ran to the teller to set up a private meeting. 

Forcefully he slammed his credits down on the counter and spoke, “I want to request room 3 with the last dancer that was on”.

“Oh, she is our highest rated dancer, her fees are very-” the woman said cautiously. 

“I’m aware, I’ll pay whatever I need to have an audience with her” Anakin spoke formally, making a few patrons laugh at his vernacular. 

“Alright” the woman replied skeptically, preparing to jot his name down. 

“Tell her it's Anakin,” he said before the woman handed him the shiny golden key to the room at the end of the hall. 

He entered the familiar room and sat with a nervous sigh- he was finally going to ask what he had been wanting to for months. 

_________________________________

You let your hair down from the tight updo it was in as someone knocked on your door. 

“Come in!” you said with a sigh; you really just wanted this night to be over. 

The desk attendant walked in with a notepad and started reading off the private dances you had scheduled tonight. 

“- Anakin” 

You stopped what you were doing and turned towards her. 

“Anakin?” you confirmed. 

“Yes, he's a taller guy with a scar over his-” she began.

“Clear my schedule for the rest of the night- I’m only seeing him” you said as you hastily searched for your best outfit (an elegant dress that wasn't too revealing). 

“B-but y/n, what about the other-”

“Tell them I have been fully booked or tell them that my availability has changed, ‘t doesn't really matter to me” you said, touching up your lipgloss. 

She nodded before heading for the door, “He’s in room 3”. 

Room 3… you took a deep breath as you made your way down the velvety hallway.

Everything's gonna be fine- just be confident as always.

With a tremor in your hand you reached for the door.

***

a/n: soo yea sorry abt all of the new characters but i wanted to make this story realistic lolll- idk y but perv ani has been on my mind 😩

[dinogoofymutated]

Happy halloween everybody!!!!

Well, Happy early halloween, that is! I hope everyone is having a good day! As some of you know, I'm choosing to celebrate my 1000 follower celebration in the incoming months!! (well, technically like 1300 right now, I'm a little late 😭) I'm doing something especially special for this event, and I'll be letting all of you guys customise your fics!!

So the way this is going to work will be fairly simple. I will be writing these fics exclusively in the incoming months due to the fact I've been extra short on time lately, Overall, I will be posting four customised x-men fics in the month of October (once every week) Plus a special guest appearance on halloween day!

Sounds good, right? Well, you might be wondering, "Goofy, how in the world are these customisable?" And let me tell you!!! I will be creating seven writing prompts for all of you to choose from! The first three fics will all have two prompts per poll, with the winning prompt being the one used for that fic in particular!

But don't worry if the prompt you voted for doesn't win, it won't be lost to fanfic limbo completely! The fourth fic in october will have four prompts to choose from, the three losers + a brand new prompt! That way each of the losers gets a chance at redemption!

Once a prompt is selected, I will then create another poll to choose what character will be chosen for that fic! Not every character in X-men will be on every single poll, as candidates will be chosen by prompt compatibility. Once a character is selected, there's also a chance I will create a third and final poll choosing what sort of halloweeny character they should be!

These polls will be posted in the weeks leading up to october, with my hope being that I will have them all finished before october actually starts. I'm very excited to do this with Y'all, as I definitely have not done an event like this before!! Y'all better help me stick to it!

(Also, I have most of the characters I plan to put in the polls in the tags, but if you have someone in mind and want them to be considered as a candidate, please reblog, reply, or send me an ask!)

Poll 1: Haunted Mansion vs. Hocus Pocus!

Prompt one: Haunted Mansion

You've recently moved into an old, spooky mansion that your great-aunt left you in her will. It's been uninhabited for years but is strangely well-kept. You're sure you live here alone, but every once in a while you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Prompt two: Hocus Pocus

You've been working at the Harkness museum of witchery for about six months now. One night after you get off of work, you decide to take a walk through the graveyard across the street to look at the stones. You find a very strange cat stuck in a trap in the process, and let the poor thing out. Turns out, he's not actually a cat at all, but working at a witch museum has its perks, and you find yourself helping the kitty regain it's true form!

Winning selection: Haunted Mansion!

Character poll:

Candidates: Nightcrawler, Quicksilver, Cyclops,

Winning selection: Nightcrawler!

Full fic Here!

Poll 2: Howling vs. Bloody halloween

Prompt Three: Howling

Something has been spotted in the woods behind your house. You don’t believe any of the bullshit all these reporters and wannabe horror vloggers are pushing, all you know is that you really want them off your land. Until you have a personal encounter with this creature, that is. What is the thing that has seemingly moved into your neck of the woods, and does it have anything to do with your new neighbor?

Prompt Four: Bloody Halloween

A bat flies through your window one night, and although you're dreadfully afraid of rabies and scared to touch the little thing, it's in really bad shape and you can't stand by and just let it die. You spend the next few days nursing the little guy back to health, when one day he up and disappears. The next night you go out with your friends, and feel like you keep seeing a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd.

Winning selection: Bloody Halloween!

Character poll:

Candidates: Gambit, Quicksilver.

Winning selection: Gambit!

Full fic here!

Poll 3: Season of the Witch vs. Halloween town!

Prompt Five: Season of the Witch

You’ve always considered the rumors about your family’s witchy and magical past to be fictional, absolute nonsense. Well, you did, until you found yourself accidentally bound to someone who’s more or less your familiar. Neither of you particularly wants this, so you focus on whatever magical skills you managed to inherit on breaking the bond- but is that really what you want?

Prompt Six: Halloweentown

You've won the title of best pumpkin carver for the past five Halloweens, which is a big deal in Halloween town! The Sixth year rolls around, and you're determined to keep your title. Until some dude accidentally smashes your masterpiece mere steps from the festival. You make him swear to you he'd make up for it next year. You've almost forgotten about it when the end of August rolls around, only to find him right at your doorstep.

Winning Selection: Season of the Witch!

Character Poll:

Candidates: Angel, Morph, Quicksilver.

Winning selection: Morph!

Full fic here!

Poll 4: Redemption round

This poll was a chance for the losers to win, and one fresh prompt to round them out

Prompt 8: Practical Magic

You recently found out that your family is cursed for any man you love to die. You’re devastated when you find this out the day after you realize you’re deeply in love, and make it your mission to keep your boyfriend alive. Shenanigans and ridiculous conflicts ensue, and after a very long couple of weeks- He reveals to you that he’s been immortal the whole time.

Winner: Practical Magic!

Character Poll:

Candidates: TBA

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Animato

Chapter Thirty Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Gibson Child OMC, Bobby, Annie, Victor, Charlie, both bands and roadies, nameless DJs

Word Count: 3160

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, the last of Uncle Dean for a while, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes (do not come at me for this), Kevin calling Dean out publicly but subtly.

Series Masterlist

The rapid beat of a double-stroke roll woke Dean from the haze of sleep. He cracked one eye open and found the source of the wake up call. Gibson, sitting on the floor in Dean’s suite, was wailing on the coffee table while watching a random infomercial on the hotel’s tv’s world class Sunday morning programming. At least the little dude hadn’t gotten into Dean’s guitars without asking. 

“Gibby! What gives, man?”

“Oh, sorry,” the little boy didn’t even look back, instead he lightened his efforts into a tapping from the original knocking.

Dean huffed and fell back onto his pillow, muttering to himself and the ceiling, “I guess we’re up for the day.”

They had spent the night watching old monster movies and eating pizza. Dean had even taken Gibson to the hotel’s pool for a dip before the adult only hours kicked in. He had no idea how Pam and Lee kept up with the kid on a normal day, Dean was fucking beat. And that was after he slept more than double his usual night’s rest. 

How was it after nine already?! No wonder the kid was bored.

“You hungry? Probably should see if the buffet’s still going,” Dean asked suddenly.

“Okay!” Gibson dropped his sticks on the coffee table and hopped up with the unbridled energy of youth.

“Yeah, uh, I gotta throw some real pants on, dude.” Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and rolled his back. “Give Uncle Dean a minute and we can head down.”

Gibson nodded, but then ran to the counter in the kitchenette. “I made you coffee! They’ve got the little cups. But that was a while ago.”

Dean raised his eyebrow and surveyed the damage from his perch on the bed. “You make one for yourself?”

“Yep! It was gross. And the pink sugar didn’t help.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it is gross. White or brown are best— no matter what Uncle Sam says.”

Gibson giggled, walking carefully over to Dean with the paper cup sloshing slightly. Dean wanted to help him, but he looked so proud of himself that Dean just sat back and clenched his hands as he awaited the delivery.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean diligently took a sip. It was god awful. Cold, sure, but also really bitter and thin. Thankfully the kid didn’t think to add anything for him. He sighed and took another gulp while trying not to breathe and taste it more. “Uh—-yeah. Can’t start the day without some fuel.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, man, of course. Now, I am gonna get dressed, find your shoes so we can get some grub.”

Turned out, the continental breakfast was already being cleaned up when they got back downstairs. Gibson’s spirits dropped instantly, but Dean assured him it was alright, and took the little man over to the attached restaurant that was hopping with the brunch crowd. 

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Bobby’s voice caught Dean’s attention as they rounded the corner with the hostess. “Make room. Miss— these idjits are with us, sorry they don’t have any manners about showing up on time.”

“Alright, I’ll— uh, I’ll let your server know.”

Dean had the wherewithal to murmur and hand over his thanks and apologies right in time to get a surprised smile. Kevin and Annie were on Bobby’s right while Sam and a very hungover looking Victor filled out the left side of the six person table.

“Rough night?” Dean teased.

“It aint over yet,” Victor lamented.

“Ooof! Been there, man. More bacon’ll help.”

Just then their server returned with two extra chairs and a busser slid in two extra place settings for them. “Thank you— thank you both. Seriously.”

“Of course, let me get you some menus.” Then the server disappeared in a flurry, weaving through the crowd of people in various states of dress and sobriety.

Kevin nudged Gibson with his elbow. “How was the sleepover at Dean’s? I bet he snores.”

Everyone around the table laughed.

“Bite me, Kev. Gibby, steal me one of his fries would ya?”

Gibson looked back and forth between the two men. “What?! No.”

Dean just shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“Two wrongs don’t make it alright,” Gibson told him knowingly.

“Yeah, UNCLE DEAN,” Sam butted in.

“From the mouths of babes,” Annie said, shaking her head in amusement. 

Kevin just laughed and took an obnoxious Dean-sized bite of fries.

“So— last day on tour until school’s out, what do you want to do today?” Bobby asked the star of the table.

“Is Mom and Dad awake? I want to see them ‘fore Grammy comes and gets me.”

“And you will, dude. I’m guessing they’re just up in their rooms getting dressed or something. It’s still early yet.”

“What timezone are you in?!” Bobby gave Dean the stink eye.

Dean ignored his manager and just ruffled Gibson’s hair. The menus appeared and they all settled in for another hour of each other’s company. 

        Dean knew it had to be hard for Gibson when they were on tour, he’d lived his own childhood with his dad barely there. But to have both parents out of reach for months at a time seemed worse. That’s why they made sure to give Pam and Lee breaks on the road, fly them home for three days at a time when they could. And they let Gibson come along when he didn’t have school.

It still felt like a worse case scenario though. He didn’t even have a little brother to make the days go by faster. Lee’s mom and their nanny were all he had outside of school friends. And the dogs. At least the kid got pets too.

Dean never did.

“Full House, bitches!” Charlie declared and threw her cards into the center of the table. “Jacks over twos.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Madison exclaimed, leaning in to inspect Charlie’s hand herself. She’d tagged along with Lee’s mom down to San Diego so she could join in on the Vegas leg of the trip. 

“She always pulls it out, I swear to god. I don’t know how, but she does,” Sam muttered and tossed his hand to Dean to shuffle for the next round.

They were an hour into the trip to Vegas and the mood on the bus was contagious. No more little ears and eyes to worry about, meant that the bottles and the bongs came out and the chips were stacked high across the tiny table. 

“Alright, alright, fair hand. Get your cards in, and maybe you can win some of them stacks back. If you’re lucky,” Dean taunted, collecting the rest of cards and sliding them back into a deck to be shuffled. “Trouble? Ante up.”

You tossed your share into the pot and took another sip of your drink. Dean felt your eyes on him as he dealt, bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Technically, he knew everyone was watching him as he doled the next hand, but your attention felt heavier the last few days. Maybe you knew something he wasn’t ready for you to know.

Maybe you were waiting for him to fuck up again.

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking and you weren’t really watching him at all. Either way, he was preoccupied with it all when he picked up his cards to find absolute trash.

“Oh Christ. I’m going to need more to drink. KEVIN! Another round of shots, if you don’t mind?”

You chuckled. “Dealer can’t deal to himself, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Dean muttered, not even bothering to pick up his cards again.

“More chances for the rest of us at least,” Madison pointed out and placed her call bet.

The afternoon turned into night while Bobby drove on. Games and ridiculousness ensued. Just when they stopped for dinner, Dean found himself in the playful overlap of drunk and stoned. 

He hummed a few bars of some pop number that was playing over the truckstop speakers and Kevin joined in in harmony as they trudged across the parking lot to the twenty four hour diner. Lee came in for the chorus and they started getting louder and sillier with it, doing the monkey walk with Dean in the middle of the two shorter guys.

Dean couldn’t hear the radio station any longer, but they carried it along, finishing the number strong while guessing at some of the lyrics. When everyone had reached the double doors of the restaurant, he caught you and Charlie with your phones up recording the shenanigans. Meanwhile, Sam and Madison were giggly, leaning a little heavier on one another than most people would be at just after seven at night.

“Alright, cool it you damn buffoons. Let’s see if they’ve got room for everyone,” Bobby grunted before disappearing inside.

“Looks like you guys are the fun bus!” Donna greeted, as SPS and company caught up with them.

“Just gettin’ started darlin’,” Dean drawled, nodding and smirking. “Though I doubt it’s all charades and crochet on Big Bertha over there either.”

Jody took a swig off of her flask. “Oh, fuck no. Nancy knits, but that’s about it. But that’s only when the Adderall kicks in.”

She dangled the metal bottle out towards the circle of waiting musicians in offering. Kevin and Pam both took a pull and passed it back. Then the equipment rig pulled in and the headcount shot up even more. Benny sauntered over with a knowing glint in his eye as he stepped right in between Dean and Donna. 

“We think we gettin’ in or gotta spread out to the fast food joints?”

“Hard to say, looks pretty dead in there, but that might mean there’s a small staff too,” you answered as everyone’s head craned to look inside.

“Alright, well I’m heading over to the cancer section until we hear one way or the other,” Jody nodded towards Annie and Patience smoking down the sidewalk. 

Dean perked up and followed her like an earnest puppy. He wasn’t a habitual smoker anymore, but he definitely still imbibed, especially on the road. Sam’s influence could only go so far. But oddly, you were trailing along behind him, followed by Jesse and a newer, yet awkward roadie that he’d only heard called Chief.

You actually pulled a pack out of your purse and held one out to Dean expectingly. “What?” you asked like an accusation.

“Are you just smoking because you’d knew I would be or—?”

You exhaled your first pull and offered him your lighter. “It’s been a fucking week, okay? Let me have this until we hit the states with actual vegetation and I have to deal with allergies too.”

Dean lit his cigarette nodding and blew out a smoke ring. “You don’t have to justify it to me, I was just checking I’m not the bad influence.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always a bad influence, doesn’t mean I still didn’t choose it.”

That got him a little hot, if he was being honest. And he felt his smile all the way to the tips of his ears. “Damn, Trouble. Always knocking me back on my heels, you know that?”

You took another drag and shrugged, looking around to see everyone else somehow in their own conversations. “Part of the job.”

“Nah, that parts all you.” Dean said without even meaning to.

You looked up at him and gave him a little squint. “You need to eat something or you’re gonna be miserable in a couple hours.”

“I’m trying!” He huffed, gesturing with his cigarette towards the front doors, right as Bobby made his glorious return.

“Listen up!” Bobby glanced around at the bands and accumulated crew. “They’ve only got room for thirty folks, so line up and whoever is stuck at the back’s gotta find something else. We’re pulling out of here no later than ten o’clock, so be on time or be left behind.”

You chuckled over the hard-learned line.

Dean sucked a deep pull off his cigarette, trying to speed through it and getting lightheaded in the process. 

“Uh,” he exhaled and looked over at you then over you towards the rest of businesses in the travel center. “We trying to get in or we taking a walk?”

“I’m finishing my square.” You pointed to yourself and held up your cigarette.

Dean couldn’t get over your sass tonight. “Alright, then. A walk it is.”

It ended up with Jody and Patience sticking around while you and Dean finished smoking and then all four of you headed to the Arby’s across the parking lot. 

“Alright, folks, we got a quick segment at the end to wrap things up. Phantom Traveler, are you ready to ‘Hit It or Quit It’?” the gruffer DJ asked them from his chair across the room.

They barely all fit in the little sound booth, but managed to squeeze together to make it work. Lee, Pam and Kevin were on the three stools they provided, while Dean and Sam hovered over them to get at the shared mic. It was six o’clock in the morning and Dean didn’t know if any of them had even slept. But there they were anyway.

“It is five questions we ask in rapid succession and you just say the first thing that comes to mind. And since all five of you are here, we’ll just go down the line— or clockwise I guess,” the younger DJ explained.

“I’m game!” Dean exclaimed, futsing with the ball cap on his head.

Pamela, who was holding the mic, winked. “Let’s hear ‘em, boys.”

The DJs laughed. “Alright, Pamela’s ready. First question: Who’s got the craziest ex’s of the band?”

Everyone ‘Oh’d!’.

Lee leaned in and said deeply into the mic. “I’m sitting right here!” 

“Couldn’t have planned that one any better!” Dean teased.

“Wait! I want to hear the answer though!” Kevin butted in, steering them back on track.

“NEW KID doesn’t know these things yet!” The first DJ said excitedly.

“Oh, this is too easy, though,” Pam rumbled.

“Yeah, sorry, bro, everyone knows this one,” Dean tacked on.

“Eat me,” Sam snapped back.

“But yeah, it’s Sammy for sure,” Lee agreed.

Sam rolled his eyes but the DJs just ate it up.

“Okay! Second question is—- for—- Lee! Favorite venue you’ve ever played?”

“Seriously? He gets a real question and I got a Cosmo question?” Pamela said, annoyed, but not quite into the mic.

“Seriously— I’m just reading off the list,” the younger DJ promised, holding up a clip board.

“That one’s easy— Harvelle’s back home.”

“Hands down,” Sam agreed.

“Best burgers in Nebraska, too,” Dean tacked on.

“Ellen’s gonna kill you,” Pam warned.

“Totally worth it,” Dean shot her down.

“Yeah. Nothing like playing for your hometown,” Lee finished.

“What a bunch of saps!” The older guy teased. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you have it. Sam— third question: Who would you still like to collaborate with? You’ve got Annie Hawkins on the latest album, you’ve played with some of the greats at some special events— I know you all were close with the late, great Rufus Turner and now you’re touring with his granddaughter’s band Sheriffs, Psychics and Secretaries. Who else?”

“Uh, honestly? I’d kill to play with Sarah and Provenance, even though our sounds are totally different. Maybe Mick Davies? Especially now that he’s left Men of Letters, I am looking forward to what he works on next.”

“Wow— those are not names I expected to come up today. But, yeah, okay— always the wildcard Sam Winchester!” The younger DJ seemed genuinely surprised and maybe even impressed.

Dean could tell it annoyed Sam, but he was always way smarter than anybody gave his bodybuilder-shaped self credit for.

“DEAN! Question numero four: If you weren’t a rockstar— okay, musician– what would you be doing?”

“Right now I’d be sleeping, that’s for damn sure.”

Everyone laughed and nodded. “I don’t blame you there, but for a job?”

Dean scratched his three day stubble. “I always say I’d have made a killer mechanic or car restorer, but, uh, honestly at this point in my life I’m going to go with firefighter.”

“Nice, very heroic.” The first DJ approved.

“Dude!” Sam gave him a look that asked if he was alright.

Dean shrugged. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out. Just a reminder we’ve got two shows at Cesar’s Palace tomorrow night and Wednesday!” he plugged like they needed help selling tickets.

“Which are completely sold out! We’ve got tickets for our listeners tomorrow morning at seven, eight and nine if you listen for the code to play.” The younger DJ picked up where Dean left off. “One more question and you guys can get on with your days. And it’s for Kevin Tran— the newest member of the band, stepping up for the now reclusive Cas Novak. Fifth and final question!---”

Dean flinched at Cas’ name coming up, but all things considered, it could have been a much more brutal comment. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby whisper something to you through the glass in the adjoining room.

“In one word describe your bandmates.”

“One word total or—?”

“One word a piece,” Sam clarified.

“Yeah one word total. Band. That’d be the worst question answered ever,” the first DJ joked.

“Okay, okay, I got it. For Pam I’ll say ‘badass’. Lee’s word will be ‘groovy’. Sam gets ‘salad’ and Dean can have ‘Trouble’.”

“Oh, fuck,” Lee actually had to cover his mouth. While everyone else just about choked on their own spit. 

Dean glared at the kid, but didn’t say anything, counting down from twenty in his head.

“It is going to be a very long tour, folks,” Sam tried to ease some of the tension, clearly the DJs did not get the significance of what was just said.

“Alright that is a wrap with Phantom Traveler, in town for just a few days on the start of their latest tour. Thank you guys, it was a blast. Their fifth album drops next month. You guys have been digging the new single, so we’re gonna close with that as we get these guys on their way.”

The intro to ‘Baby’ played in the background as everyone handed over their headphones and shook the DJs' hands. Their marketing people came in for some quick publicity shots. Dean spotted you getting matching angles, where you stood behind their photographer, for the band’s socials.

God, he wasn’t ready. He had no idea if you caught what Kevin had said or if you knew he was really talking about you. The little punk had to go and say that shit on air of all places. 

One thing was for sure, Dean’s time was running out. Sooner or later somebody was going to let it slip and it wasn’t fair to you to hear it from anyone but him. Now, he just had to figure out how.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 35: Cambiare