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wonderfulwitchwillow · 3 days ago

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So like, when anyone thinks Ravenloft you probably think of Curse of Strahd. Or hell Curse of Strahd as a standalone thing. Like its one of the most popular modules of all time. But Curse of Strahd is an adaptation. One of many adaptations of 1st edition's I6: Ravenloft.

It got me wondering, how many people have actually taken time to look at this module who weren't playing in the 80s. I wasn't even alive in the 80s, and when this module came out my father was in high school playing D&D. So I doubt alot of people go back and really look at some of these older modules. And I happen to be a collector/lore nerd for all things Ravenloft. So what exactly is different? I have somewhat compiled my thoughts into a semi-cohesive analysis of I6 and Curse of Strahd.

Alot, and I do mean alot, of the module is similar to the opening and the castle in Curse of Strahd so this is your warning for spoilers for the module. I intend to talk about every major (and some minor) changes between 1st editions Ravenloft and 5th editions Curse of Strahd and give some of my commentary on what I have found, and some notes about random related facts. I am not going to discuss the overall narrative of I6 or Curse of Strahd since the only major narrative differences is in the Castle, which I do discuss in detail in that section of the post. I also know there are other adapations of I6 Ravenloft, 2nd edition has House of Ravenloft and 3rd edition has Expedition to Castle Ravenloft, but I am analyzing 1st edition and 5th edition's design choices; if I focused on all the editions, I would need more than just 1 super long post; plus Expedition to Castle Ravenloft really deserves its own post since its canon is separate from the greater ravenloft canon of second and third edition. Forgive me if my photos suck, I am using my phone and my shadows keep showing up. I have several things I want to say before I get started proper; I6 uses some derogatory words for the Vistani people, a ethnic group in Ravenloft not subtly based on the Romani people. These words may appear in some of my images but I am going to do my best to avoid showing them and the slurs will not appear in my text. I make mention of this because the Vistani are not refereed to as the Vistani in I6 but in all other versions of the module and the setting as a whole, they are called the Vistani. This is something that is an issue in second and third edition when it comes to the Ravenloft setting. It is at times, very racist. And I would not be doing justice to those who are harmed without mentioning the use of slurs or racial caricatures for a real ethnic group in this module. I am not going to talk more about them in the module since their presence outside of Madam Eva is small and racist; serving as minions of Strahd with a neutral evil alignment; which this alone is incredibly disgusting by making a real group of people evil. The harm started with this module and it is something that everyone who interacts with Ravenloft, regardless of canon, take caution and care with handling. I added IDs to each photo to help as well. I shall be discussing the module under the cut.

Part 0 - extra bits and forward

This post is incredibly long, I have tried to add mini-headers for each major subsection of this post because as I was working on it, it somewhat ballooned in scope and I want it to be fairly readable for those who are interested.

Onto the module discussion

Part 1 - Cover and maps

Forgive me for having a section just dedicated to the maps but as you would soon find out, its quite extensive in detail.

[ID]

A cardboard outer sleeve with the words Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Official Game Adventure Ravenloft. Below the title is a landscape image in a gothic horror art style.

The image is of the vampire count Strahd von Zarovich standing on his castle's walled balcony overlooking a misty cliff side. On the railing of the balcony sits two gargoyle statues. The castle itself is behind Strahd with a gateway being directly behind him. There are two castle spires, one in the foreground cut off by the artwork, one in the background with the spire's peak nearly visible. The castle's battlements are behind the right spire and go from the upper center of the artwork to the edge on the right. There is a lightning strike in the upper right corner along with bats flying out of the right spire into the night. Mist fills the lower right corner, obscuring the spire.

Below the artwork is a line of marketing text- "The master of Ravenloft is having guests for dinner - and you are invited. Ravenloft is an adventure for 6 to 8 players of levels 5 to 7." Below this is the TSR logo, which is an outline of the letters "T" "S" and "R". Below the logo is the copyright information "TSR, Inc. Products of your imagination. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and Products of your imagination are trademarks of TSR. Inc."

[End ID]

I think I am not alone in saying but the first edition module covers are iconic. It is this generic fantasy style now but like that style is timeless to me. Its Strahd looking menacing over the chapel outlook's balcony. Its incredibly imposing. Its a different vibe and I don't think the other modules ever nail the vibe that Strahd is menacing on the cover art. He is waiting to strike or overlooking his lands. Though Curse of Strahd cover is probably my second favorite because he is less of a monster and more of a noble playing a game which is far closer to how he is played as a villian. Strahd always changing his appearance to fit in with what we consider "fantasy" for the era. I am fascinated with older editions of D&D so it makes sense why I would love this art so much. It is absolutely my taste and I am biased.

[ID]

The image contains two documents on a wooden table. The document on the left is the same document as the first image, cardboard outer sleeve On the top of the sleeve above this title is an orange header with "I6" on the left corner and "9075" on the right corner which wasn't visible in the first image.

The second document is a map folded in half showing only the right potion of the map. The map has a white margin surrounding the entire map as a a border. The top of the map has a repeating pattern lining the edge of the map invoking a gothic crown molding. The right edge of the map has a marble pillar going from the top to the bottom of the map, serving as a border. The map's legend is in the right corner. The contents of the legend are in a white box. The words Ravenloft stylized in bold font are above the rest of the legend. The Letters R and T in Ravenloft have gargoyle heads extending outwards to face the edges of the the legend. The legend is organized into 4 rows with 3 columns. The legend shows off several colors with associated elevations: Light green is associated with Elevation 0-49 feet", Dark Green is Elevation 50-99 feet. Blue Green is Elevation 100-999 feet. Purple is Elevation 1000-1499 FT. and is the end of the first column. At the start of the second column is the last color, a Reddish Purple is Elevation 1500+ feet. Continuing down the second column there are shapes to indicate map elements. Lines repeating next to each other vertically indicate a cliff wall, two parallel lines that complete indicate a road, and two parallel lines that are dashed indicate a trail. The third column shows more colors to represent buildings that are occupied: A brown rectangle indicates an occupied house. A light brown rectangle indicates an unoccupied house. A small light brown square indicates an unoccupied store. The last icon on the legend is a red rectangle indicating an Encounter Building. Bellow the columns and the width of the rows is text "Scale: 1 hex = 200 feet". Bellow the legend is a title. "Map 1. Lands of Barovia"

The map starts at the right and flows left following a white road. The maps elevation up to the city remains light green with the northern portion of the city, near a point labeled E7, becoming dark green. North and south of the road is a woods. The road starts near the letter A passing through what appears to be a gate labeled B Continuing we see two hexes with the letters C on the map on the left and right adjacent hexes. Following the road is the village of barovia, with houses indicating occupancy. There are several red houses each labeled with corresponding letters. The center has E1 and E2. South is E3, E5, and E4. North is E6 and E7. The road heads south west from the village, passing E and ending at a gate before the fold cuts off the map. Below the village is a river labeled D.

[End ID]

Moving to the actual contents for a moment - how many folks know that these sleeves/covers are not attached at all? I store my older books in comic book sleeves with backs. I don't know if this was a cost cutting measure or if comic book storage was the original intention since I could see the same communities overlapping in the 80s but like, if someone knows why, please let me know. I am so curious. I know they made comics that were released around the same time, made by DC in the 80s and 90s, so its not a stretch to say that it was expected to store modules like comic books.

[ID]

A folded out display of several maps for Castle Ravenloft as isometric cross sections. The sleeve contains Map 2. Walls of Ravenloft, Map 5. Rooms of weeping. Map 6, Map 7, Map 8, Map 9 and Map 10 all of which are associated with the Spires of Ravenloft. In the bottom left corner is a front facing image of the entire castle with size guide displaying the full height of the castle including the spire. The total height of the castle is 360 ft. The break points shown along the way up to the total height are associated with floor sizes for each of the associated maps. The maps 5 through 10 are stacked on top of each other such that 10 is at the top and 5 is at the bottom of the sleeve.

Map 5 contains a hallway with a stairwell leading down labeled K46, a bedroom labeled K42, additional rooms labeled K41, K43, K44, K45, K36, and K37 along with several corridors labeled K39, K38, and K40. There are additional stairways labeled K21, K18, and K20. Map 5 is 40 feet from floor to ceiling.

Map 6 contains roof tops labeled K53, a chimney labeled K52, 4 interconnected rooms labeled K51, K50, K49 and K47, the same stairways from Map 5 labeled K18, K20 and the top of K21 which ends in room K47, and a new stairway labeled K48 which is connected to room K47. Map 6 is 40 feet from floor to ceiling.

Map 7 contains the Straiways K20, K18, and K48. Three rooms are attached to each other. K55 is attached to both K54 and K56. K54 is attached to the stairwell K48. Map 7 is 40 feet from floor to ceiling.

Map 8 has the stairway K48 end as it reaches a spire's battlements, labeled K57. There is a stone bridge linking to the stairway K20 labeled K58. K20 continues to ascend to map 9 but depected on Map 8 is a heart. K18 continues to climb and will reach its peak in map 10. Map 8 is 20 feet higher than map 7.

Map 9 starts 50 feet from map 8 with a spire's battlements as the ending for the stairs. This room is labeled K60.

Map 10 is the peak for the stairs K18. It is spire with a pointed roof. The room is labeled 59 while the enter of the stairs is now accessible, a fall of 380 feet, labeled K18a.

Returning to the left side of the sleeve, above the front facing image is Map 2. This map is the courtyard of the castle along with some ground floor elements. The front yard entrance is labeled K1, the side gates to the back of courtyard are labeled K2, the carriage house is labeled K4, the chapel is k5 and the outlook is K6. The gate leading into the courtyard is labeled J

Above map 2 is a full 3d side view of the castle. It has the spires indicated in Map 8, 9, and 10 along with the rooftops from map 7. The walls are also clearly visible along with the chapel. The stable house is also visible but the outlook is just a flat floor.

[End ID]

Back to the sleeve, if we open it, its a map of Castle Ravenloft! Its isometric and how in the hell do you keep this hidden from your players if you ever need to refer to it while in session? You probably have to grab it out and review it as you draw on some kind of graphing paper and attach it with tape together or something or just draw it out before the game starts and come to your weekly game night with it all prepared, like how we do it now. Its also wild that this sleeve isn't attached in anyway. If you lose either this outer sleeve or inner sleeve with even more maps, you just lose all the maps. I did not grow up in the 80s or 90s when this was the way you would play, 5th edition was my first edition, so again, was this ever a problem? I could see it being a problem since cardboard is not sturdy at all and I am terrified in tearing it accidently. The pricing was also around $7 to $9 in the 80s which would be about $22 to $28, which is cheaper than modules are now but no where near cheap enough to justify the cardboard and the paper quality.

Anyway, the castle itself is 360 feet tall which is massive for an actual castle. Though most of the height is the main spire with the Heart of Sorrow like we all know all love, referred to as the Guardian of Sorrow in I6. If you did the math with all the heights for maps shown, it wouldn't be 360 ft. That is because the rest of the maps are on the inner sleeve, which is two sided. The other side has the map of Barovia, which you have gotten a sneak peak at. Lets finish up on the outer sleeve before moving to the inner sleeve with more maps.

[ID]

An outer cardboard sleeve with the following words: "Advanced Dungeons & Dragons" "Official Game Adventure" "Ravenloft" "by Tracey and Laura Hickman"

"Under raging stormclouds, a lone figure stands silhouetted against the ancient walls of castle Ravenloft. Count Strahd von Zarovich stares down a sheer cliff at the village below. A cold, bitter wind spins dead leave about him, billowing his cape in the darkness."

"Lightning splits the clouds overhead, casting stark white light across him. Strahd turns to the sky, revealing the angular muscles of his face and hands. He has a look of power - and of madness. His once-handsome face is contorted by a tragedy darker than the night itself."

"Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind's howling increases as Strahd turns his gaze back to the village. Far below, yet not beyond his keen eyesight, a part of adventurers has just entered his domain. Strahd's face forms a twisted smile as his dark plan unfolds. He knew they were coming, and he knows why they came. All according to his plan. He, the master of Ravenloft, will attend to them."

"Another lightning flash rips through the darkness, its thunder echoing through the castle's towers. But Strahd is gone. Only the howling of the wind - or perhaps a lone wolf - fills the midnight air. The master of Ravenloft is having guests for dinner. And you are invited. "

"ISBN 0-88038-942-X" "394-53465-4TSR0600" Below this text is a logo for TSR. Beneith the logo is additional text: "TSR, Inc. Products of your Imagination" On the left margin of the sleeve is a barcode within a white box with the number 0 at the start of the barcode and the number 3 at the end. Beneath the barcode but within the white box is the following string of numbers "46363 09075"

[End ID]

On the reverse of the outer sleeve, its a bunch of information on the module itself. I'll use this time to talk a bit about the creators - though I'll admit I don't know as much as I should. Tracey and Laura Hickman are iconic authors and module designers for the early years of D&D and especially Dragonlance. They also created the second edition version of I6, House of Strahd, Ravenloft 2 House on Griffin Hill (A story for another day) and so many more works. If you see their names on something, its going to be good from my experience. Its also why Dragonlance is so interconnect to Ravenloft to an extent or that's what I think atleast. Though Ravenloft is interconnected to every major setting TSR had at the time (Greyhawk, Forgotten Realms, Dragonlance, and Dark Sun all have characters and dread domains from their universes). Anyway back to the Hickmans. Their works are considered what made D&D jump from just dungeon crawling to more narrative experiences and Ravenloft absolutely shows this. This culminated when Tracy pushed forward on his work in creating Dragonlance, which is one of the biggest settings for D&D. I am sadly not super knowledgably about Dragonlance but we can really feel this shift in module design moving from I6 onward. I6 has a lot of notable steps in module design, the biggest being the maps!

[ID] An image of a map. The map has a white margin surrounding the entire map as a a border. The top of the map has a repeating pattern lining the edge of the map invoking a gothic crown molding. The right and left edge of the map has a marble pillar going from the top to the bottom of the map, serving as the maps' border.

The map's legend is in the right corner. The contents of the legend are in a white box. The words Ravenloft stylized in bold font are above the rest of the legend. The Letters R and T in Ravenloft have gargoyle heads extending outwards to face the edges of the the legend. The legend is organized into 4 rows with 3 columns. The legend shows off several colors with associated elevations: Light green is associated with "Elevation 0-49 feet", Dark Green is Elevation 50-99 feet. Blue Green is Elevation 100-999 feet. Purple is Elevation 1000-1499 FT. and is the end of the first column. At the start of the second column is the last color, a Reddish Purple is Elevation 1500+ feet. Continuing down the second column there are shapes to indicate map elements. Lines repeating next to each other vertically indicate a cliff wall, two parallel lines that complete indicate a road, and two parallel lines that are dashed indicate a trail. The third column shows more colors to represent buildings that are occupied: A brown rectangle indicates an occupied house. A light brown rectangle indicates an unoccupied house. A small light brown square indicates an unoccupied store. The last icon on the legend is a red rectangle indicating an Encounter Building. Bellow the columns and the width of the rows is text "Scale: 1 hex = 200 feet". Bellow the legend is a title. "Map 1. Lands of Barovia"

The map starts at the right and flows left following a white road. The maps elevation up to the city remains light green with the northern portion of the city, near a point labeled E7, becoming dark green. North west of the village the color shifts to being blue green before shifting to purple and sections of redish purple representing mountain peaks. Continuing west, the map remains purple with reddish purple mount peaks scattered throughout.

North and south of the road is a woods. The road starts near the letter A passing through what appears to be a gate labeled B . Continuing we see two hexes we see the letters C on the map on the left and right adjacent hexes. Following the road is the village of barovia, with houses indicating occupancy. There are several red houses each labeled with a corresponding letters. The center has E1 and E2. South is E3, E5, and E4. North is E6 and E7. The road heads south west from the village, passing E continuing to a branching path marked by the letter F.

The northern branch flows north before becoming a trail passing landmarks G1 and G before meeting back up with the main road at a bridge. The southern branch flows around woods and turns north before bending south east around a mountain. The road continues to follow this mountain until the road bends north to meet a bridge, labeled H. The road flows around another mountain before going north and reaching a fork in the road, indicated by the letter I. The fork heading north is blocked by a gate, indicated by the letter B. The road continuing north and west off of the map. The fork flowing east winds through the mountains until it reaches a drawbridge gate indicated by the letter J. The road ends at a castle indicated by the letter K. Following the entire road is a river that flows through the first bridge, meeting up with the trail with G and G1, passing under bridge H, then continuing west before the river is off the map

[End ID]

There is an inner sleeve with more maps and the map of Barovia itself which is very familiar to those who know the map from 5th edition. It looks like you could just place it out and play right on it using a token to represent the players because its gorgeous and heavily colorized. Each color meaning different elevations since Barovia is so mountainous and hilly. The map only goes up to Castle Ravenloft, that is because Barovia would be expanded when Ravenloft itself gets expaded in second edition with its AD&D box set, modules, and lorebooks. The whole story we know with "I, Strahd" would be years later. The village of Barovia looks much larger than we would assume but the general town's make up and people don't change much on the way to 5th edition. WotC did a good job on preserving the setup for Curse of Strahd.

On the Reverse of this inner sleeve we see more maps of Castle Ravenloft and again, its very similar to what we know in 5e.

[ID]

A folded out display of several maps for Castle Ravenloft as isometric cross sections. The display contains the following maps: Map 4. Court of the Count, Map 3. Main Floor, Map 11. Larders of Ill Omen, and Map 12. Dungeon and Catacombs. Above Map 12 is a compass. In the bottom left of the display is the following text "1983 TSR, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 119-I-9075". Along the left of the maps is the height from floor to ceiling for each map. To the left of the maps is a key for the maps. This key is two columns and 21 rows. The first column uses flat 2d images; the second column represents the image from the first row in an isometric view, mirroring the maps.

The first row represents doors with a square and a thick line extending from the center of the left and right sides. The second row represents double doors with rectangle divided in half by a vertical line with a thick line extending from the center of the left and right sides. The third row represents secret and standard doors with a square missing one side, the letter S being placed inside this incomplete square, with a thick line extending from center of the left and right sides. The fourth row represents secret doors with the letter S with a thick line in the left and right side of the letter. The fifth row represents one way secret doors with the letter S with an arrow passing through the letter with a thick line on the top and bottom of the letter. The sixth row represents teleport traps using several small staggered inverted Vs. The seventh row represents trap doors in the floor using the letter T in a solid circle. The eight row represents trap doors in the ceiling with the letter T surrounded with a dashed circle. The ninth row represents windows with a white rectangle surrounded with a black rectangle while the isometric view shows a white trapezoid instead in the rectangle. The tenth row represents arrow slits using a black rectangle with a white triangle in the middle. The eleventh row represents bars and portcullises with sequential circles. The twelfth row represents brazier with a circle with an inner ring while the isometric view shows a brazier. The thirteenth row represents ladders with a ladder. The fourteenth row represents stairs with lines reducing in size making a shape of a triangle from left to right while the isometric depiction is a set of stairs. The fifteenth row represents spiral stairs with lines that reduce in size and curve inward while the isometric view is a spiral staircase. The sixteenth row represents a bed with a bed. The seventeenth row represents a chair and thrown with a top down cube with the isometric view is a chair. The eighteenth row represents railing with 4 black dots connected with a line, while the isometric view displays a railing. The nineteenth row represents a statue with a circle containing a black star. The twentieth row represents a curtain using a thick black squiggly line with 4 humps. Lastly, the twenty-first row represents water with repeating waves as rows while isometric view is a wavy layer on top of a white square with scattered dots. Below the key is the text: Scale: 1 Square = 10 feet.

Map 12, labeled Dungeon and Catacombs, is the largest of the maps in the image. K84 is the largest room in the map with several small one square rooms labeled 2 through 40. 1 represents a door connected to room K81. North and south of K84 are the rooms K85 and K86. Both of these rooms are mirrors of each other. East of K84 is a hallway labeled K87 with a room at the end labeled K88. Opposite of this hallway attached to K84 on the west is a stairwell labeled K18a and a stairway labeled K18. Continuing from K81 there is a trap on the floor that leads into K82, a slide that leads into K74. Across the trap is the hallway labeled K80. A staircase is attached K80 leading to the room K78. K78 has a brazier along with two statues. There are three staircases leading out of K78: the left most stairwell is K72 with the associated text "Up 70 feet to Map 11, K72", the center is K80, and the right stairwell is K83. The door out of K78 leads to room K77 which is divided by a Curtain with two chairs overlooking another room, labeled K76. K76 is flooded with water and to east is a hallway Labeled K73. K73 is also flooded which has two rooms branching north labeled K74 and south labeled K75. Both K74 and K75 are prisons with cells labeled A through H and are flooded. Attached at the end of the K73 is a staircase labeled K21. The height from floor to ceiling of map 12 is 50 ft

Map 11, labeled Larders of Ill Omen, has two stairwells that are not attached to the main map, both K18 and K831. K18A is a empty cylinder that the stairs of K18 wrap around. K18 has the following associated text "Up 30 feet to rubble blockage then 10 feet past rubble to map 3, K18". Starting in the top left corner of the map, the stairway K79 leads up to a secret door attached to K72. K72 leads into a the K70. K70 has two attached rooms, K71 to the east and K67 to the south. K71 features a stairway K20a with the following associated text: "Up 40 Feet to Map 3". K67 is a room with a double door leading to K62 to the east and K68 to the south. K68 is a hallway with the room K69 attached to the west and the stairway K64 to the south with the following associated text " Up 40 feet to map 3". K69 has 10 sections divided by walls, 5 on the north and south walls of the rooms. Room K62 has 4 rooms attached to the hallway, K66 to the north, K65 to the north but east of K66, a unnumbered room with the staircase K21, and K63 to the east behind bars. K62 has a stairway to the north, east of K65 with the following associated text "up 40 feet to map 3". In the room containing K21 there is a trapdoor between the staircase and the door to K62. The staircase K21 has the following associated text "Up 40 feet to Map 3". The height from floor to ceiling of map 11 is 40 ft.

Map 3, labeled Main Floor, contains a entry hall out to the courtyard of the castle, labeled K7. Next to K7, unattached to any of the rooms in Map 3, is the staircase K83. K7 is attached to one room, K8. K8 is attached three rooms, K14 to the east, K9 to the south, and K19 by a staircase to the north with the following text "Up 30 feet". K19 leads to another staircase with the text "Up 20 feet to map 4". K9 is connected to the staircase K21 to the east and the room K10 to the west. K21 leads up to Map 4. In the wall north of K21 is a hole labeled K31a. K10 is a large room with a secret door the the east, leading to K11. K11 leads to the a hallway, K13. K13 is attached to K11 with a northern hall and attached to the room K12 to the west. At the end of hall k13 is the staircase K64 with the following text "Up 50 feet Map 4, Down 40 feet to Map 11". K14 is a hall that leads into K15. K15 is a large room with two passages, K16 to the northwest and K17 to the southwest, which are attached to two separate stairways. K16 is attached to the stairwell K29. K17 is attached to the stairway K18 and the hollow cylinder K18a with the following text: "Down 10 feet to new wall down pas wall 80 feet to map 12". Unattached to the rest of the map and north of K14 is the room K20. K20 contains the stairway K20a and an unlabeled stairway with the associated text "Up 50 feet". A hallway labeled K13 leads into K20. At the west end of K13 is a round room labeled K12. The south end of K12 leads into a small room labeled K22. Connected to the outside and unconnected to the rest of map, east of K20, is the room K23. K23 has a staircase leading down with the associated text "Down 40 feet to map 11". The room to the north of K23 is K24. K24 has a stairway that leads up with the associated words "Up 30 feet to map 4". The height from floor to ceiling of map 3 is 50 ft.

Map 4, labeled Court of the Count, contains a throne room. This throne room, labeled K25, is located in the western half of the map and is connected to two stairwells which lead back to K19. There is a secret door in front of the throne on the south wall of K25 which leads into K13. The eastern end of K13 is a stairwell labeled K64 with the following associated text "Up 40 feet down 50 feet". To the north of K13 is the room K12. To east of K13 is the room K22. K25 has two additional rooms attached, K26 attached with a set of double doors, and K30, attached with a single door. K30 has a set of stairs labeled K21 with the following associated text "Up 40 feet down 50 feet". K26 is a small hallway with a secret door to the north that connects to the room K33 and a double door to the east that connects to K27. K33 connects to room K32 to the west and hallway K13 to the north with a secret door. Similar to the other hallway labeled as K13, to leads to two rooms and a stairwell. The room K12 is in the same location as the previous K12. K22 is to the south of K13. To the west of K13 is a large stairwell labeled K20. The stairwell K20 leads up and down and has a secret door that leads to a ladder with the following text: "Ladder up 20 feet from K34 to K20". The ladder leads to an additional secret door that that leads into the room K34. K34 has a staircase leading down off the map. K27 is a long hallway that leads to another set of double doors connected to K28. A secret door is in the middle of the southern wall connecting K27 to K31. K31 has a hole next to the small room labeled K31a. K28 has two chairs and a outcropping that overlooks the main floor over K15 that is 50 feet in the air. K28 has a stairwell that leads down to Map 3 labeled K29. To the south of K27, to the west of K28 and to the east of K31 is the stairwell K18 and the cylinder K18a. The height from floor to ceiling of map 4 is 40 ft.

[End ID]

I want to say before moving on to the module, that these maps are immaculate. Like now we are spoiled with battlemaps in modules and how they are designed but back in the 80s, they had black and white paper that feels like its a elementary workbook. Its fairly cheap feeling. Where I could describe modern books as more textbook in quality. So imagine then you had these black and white books to use for making maps. These sleeves are so much higher quality and the color is beautiful if you ask me. I can see how a dm could run this dungeon flawlessly. Even know the castle is massive and yet it always goes off without any issues. Its a testament to good dungeon design and displaying information to the dm and players. Its one of those tales that these maps are what made I6 Ravenloft popular; again I don't know any old school ttrpg fans who played this when it was new but I could absolutely see it. During my researching, this is one of the biggest factors in what made Ravenloft popular. That and of course our beloved Strahd von Zarovich.

Now onto the actual module. I am not going to have a photo of each section of the module since there is alot but I will be showing off all the images in the module plus anything of note. The layout of the module itself makes sense from a ease of access but compaired to modern module layouts, it a bit jumpy. First is Strahd's stat block and his personality. It makes sense to put this first since he is the villain and you will need to have ready access to it. Second is the fortune reading, called "Fortunes of Ravenloft". Then onto the actual setup for the module following the similar steps to what we have come to expect from Curse of Strahd: The lands of Barovia, Barovia Village, Tser pool encampment, and Castle Ravenloft. Then statblocks for the rest of the monsters. I am not going to go over the narrative of I6 since there isn't any major differences to Curse of Strahd! I6 is almost beat for beat the same as Curse of Strahd as long as we include only the portions in I6. This makes sense since Curse of Strahd is a remake after all. Now, onto Strahd's statblock!

Part 2: Strahd von Zarovich

[ID]

The image is a black and white page full of text with an image of Strahd von Zarovich in the bottom right corner. The documents text is positioned into two columns. The top of the document has a repeating border that is a shape that is a hollow rounded triangle with two curved arches on the left and right of the shape that meet in the middle under the bottom of the triangle. On the left and right of the triangle is abstract black shapes that meet up at a black thick line the top near of the page. Around these triangles are broken lines that outline the shape. A thin black line creates an outline from the bottom of the triangles around the document.

The image of Strahd von Zarovich in the bottom right corner is of a cloaked figure with a cowl. His hair is pulled back with a strong widow's peak. His eyes are white and luminous. His knows and ears are barely visible, with the rest of his face hidden in the darkness. His right arm appears to be extended but is hidden by his cloak. Behind Strahd is a full moon with three bats casting a shadow on the moon. In the bottom right of the image is the artist mark of Clyde Caldwel, A c like shape that flow into an n like shape with a dot beneath. At the center of the page is the page number, 3

The text of the document starting with the left column is as follows: "Count Strahd Von Zarovich, Vampire.

The entire adventure centers around the vampire. Always keep in mind the motives of the vampire, how he moves about, and what his cunning plot is. You must play Strahd in the same way players play their characters. Study this NPC as carefully as the players study their characters.

Count Strahd Von Zarovich (The First Vampyr) Frequency: Unique Number Appearing: 1 Armor Class: -1 Move: 12"/18" Hit Dice: 10 (55 hit points) % In Lair: 90% Treasure Type F Damage/Attack: 5-10 (1d6+4) Special Attacks: Energy Drain Special Defenses: +1 or better weapon to hit Magical Resistance: See below Intelligence: Genius Alighnment: CE Size: M Psionic Ability: Nil Attack/Defense Modes: Nil

Although Strahd can be encountered in many places, he is always encountered in the plaace indicated by your Fortunes of Ravenloft results (see p.4) unless he has been forced to his tomb. Strahd is slightly above-average vampire. He has the normal 18/76 strength and his blows drain 2 life levels from his opponents. Strahd has the usual vampire abilities. He can only be hit by magical weapons and can regenerate 3 hit points per round He can assume gaseous from at will or shape change into a large bat. He can charm person at will by gazing into a character's eyes, causing the character to make a saving throw vs. spells with a penalty of -2. Strahd is also a 10th level magic user. He learned his magic from studies during his life from subsequent studies over the centuries. His available spells are:

First level: comprehend languages, hold portal, protection from good, sleep. Second level: invisibility, locate objects, mirror image, ESP. Third level: fireball, gust of wind, suggestion Forth level: polymorph other, polymorph self Fifth level: animate dead, distance distortion"

The following text is the right column of the document: "Strahd has a variety of spies and servants. They report to him four times each day (at dawn, noon, dusk, and midnight). There is a 60% chance that Strahd knows the PC's location at these times. If Strahd knows their location, he attacks the OCs -wherever they are -within two hours. Strahd chooses the time and method of his attacks carefully.

Strahd can attack in each of the following ways once.

Strahd attacks a single PC for 5 melee rounds then leaves.

Strahd calls 10-15 Strahd zombies to attack the party. All of the zombies must attack at the same time in the same place.

Strahd calls 3-12 worg wolves to attack the party. All of the wolves must attack at the same time in the same place.

When playing Strahd, above all, keep these three things in mind.

Strahd chooses when he attacks. Strahd is supposed to be a genius, play him as one. Whenever he is aware of the PCs poisitions, he is allowed to make an attack how and where he wants. His attacks must be timed to be most advantageous to him. To do that, Strahd must move around during the adventure. However, he can always be found in the place determined in Fortunes of Ravenloft. It is your responsibility to see that the vampire uses his abilities to his greatest advantage.

Strahd knows when to withdraw. He knows when he is over his head. If he is losing a battle he becomes gaseous, polymorphs into a wolf or bat, and/or summons other creatures to guard his retreat.

Strahd's attacks depend upon his goals. There is a reason why Strahd lured the PCs into his little kingdom. This reason is determined in Fortunes of Ravenloft. Strahd's plans for achieving his goals are listed with his goals."

[End ID]

I don't know 1st edition but if I'm not mistaken (and I could be since my knowledge is based on the 1st/2nd edition dos games), is a roll under system unlike 5e's DC system. Its cool seeing spells remain at spell levels I know like invisibility being second level and fireball being obviously third level; though I feel its common knowledge that fireball was third level in 1st edition. If someone who is far more versed in 1st edition could tell me what his stat block actually means, I would appreciate it immensely.

Something awesome is that Strahd has different goals determined by the module's Fortunes of Ravenloft, something similar to the fortune reading in 5th edition. Strahd is also cunning and plays keepaway with the players, running away when he is losing and ambushing the players at any time. He even has a randomized set encounter location where the Fortunes of Ravenloft says, again just like 5e. The whole intent behind his creation and play style is that he is supposed to be this menacing calculating monster of a man, not a generic monster. This design has lasted to this day which is impressive. I may be spreading more internet nonsense from saying but the idea of the whole module to my knowledge cam from a playtest of a game with players fighting a vampire in a cave and it didn't make narrative sense.

What is also fascinating is his title, The First Vampyr. Was the intent was to set up the villain as well the first vampire in universe? I don't know when TSR started focusing on building out their universes, like Forgotten Realms, but this feels like this is something that would be kept in mind for the future. At the same time, this could just be throwaway flavor text as Strahd is referred to as a "slightly above average vampire". Which feels like they are downplaying his strength as a monster. But he also is a fairly formidable caster though I don't have the context of how formidable, I am just extrapolating using my experience with 5th edition; just 5th level spells feels like alot for any party. He is also immune to any damage not dealt by magical weapons, which would be an issue if the module didn't give the players magical weapons. But it does. We know it has the sunsword but as we will see, the module has other magical weapons as well, making this trait something the players could handle once they are in the castle.

Lastly, Strahd feels like he teleports around quite a bit given what the module is suggesting, that he should be reappearing and fighting the players before the castle. Curse of Strahd does solve this by giving him a teleportation room, a difference I highlight later, here he just has to run around using his powers. I think its fine to handwave this as Strahd can just move quickly due to his ability to polymorph since its so core to this module that he can just show up and scare the players.

Next, the Fortunes of Ravenloft

Part 3: The Fortunes of Ravenloft

[ID] The image is a black and white page full of text with three images of Cards on the top of the page, above the text "Fortunes of Ravenloft", with the first card partially behind the "R" in Ravenloft. The page itself is grey and splits text into two columns that flow similar to the previous document image. At the center of the bottom of the page is the number 4, indicating the page number. The three cards are similar with white playing card like border and an embroidery pattern filling an inner border with text in the center. At the top left of the page is the head of a gargoyle, with a line drawn down from the neck to the bottom of the page, passing behind the left playing card. Under the left most card's left side grouped together is the letter J and a heart written into the book in pen. Further down in pen are the words "Jack spades" crossed out. In text between the two handwritten texts is the text "Deal the top five cards face down". Below the right side of the left most card in pencil are the words "king of spades". Under the center card is the letter K and a diamond in pen. Under the right most card is the letter K and a heart in pen. The text outside of the cards is the following, starting from the left column and omitting slurs: "Fortunes of Ravenloft is an imitation ancient [slur] card reading. It does not resemble any real or mystical fortune telling process. Fortunes of Ravenloft determines Strahd's goals and the placement of important treasures. This card reading can add a great deal of flavor to your game and makes Ravenloft different when you play it again. You must run this card reading before playing the module. If, during the course of the adventure, the PCs have their fortunes read at the [slur] camp, run this card reading again, out loud. Substitute the new results for the old ones. Be sure to write down the results of your card reading, so you can have them when you need them. Find a regular 52-card deck of playing cards. Remove all 2, 4, 6, 8, 9, and joker cards from the deck. Now you have a set of four suits with eight cards in each suit. Shuffle the deck. If you don't have a regular deck of cards, you can get the same results by rolling 1d8 to determine the type of card and 1d4 to determine its suit. Roll again if you get the same card in any suit twice." The following text is a table that starts in the left column and continues on to the right. Around the bottom portion of the text in each row is an enclosed box. "Table 1. Fortunes of Ravenloft Places Card Place 3 Study (K37) It is in a place of tranquility, a harbor for the mighty and powerful. It is in a place of wisdom, warmth, and despair. Great secrets are there. The object is on the mantlepiece just under the portait of the women. If Strahd is there, he is sitting back in the overstuffed chair, staring into the blazing fire. 5 Treasure Room (K41) You should seek for a carefully hidden place of great worldly wealth. I see a blazing fire protecting the place. The object is set prominently atop the other treasures in the room. If Strahd is there, he is counting his ill-gotten gains. 7 Chapel of Ravenloft (K15) You may find this amid the ruins of a place of supplication. The object is on the altar, brightly illuminated by a shaft of light from the ceiling. If Strahd is there, he is standing in the center of the room-a dark shape in the vast hall. 10 High Tower Room (K60) This is a place of dizzying heights that all loathe to travel. The road winds ever upward and the rocks themselves live here! The object is in a locked iron chest. If Strahd is there he is at the window, looking over his lands. Jack Crypt of Sergei von Zarovich (K85) This lies with a fallen prince of old. The brother of dark is light and he rests in this place. The object is lying across Sergei's chest. If Strahd is there, he is lying across the marble slab, weeping. Queen Crypt of Ravenovia (K88) This is in the mother's place The object is lying on top of Ravenovia's coffin. If Strahd is there, he is in a frenzy of rage and despair"

The text in the left most card has a section in a box similar to the table. The box surrounds the middle portion of the card's text. The following is the text of the left most card: "First, determine where the Holy Symbol is (see Treasures and Tomes on Page 30 for a description of the holy symbol). Pick up the first card and read the following boxed text. This card is a symbol of great power. It tells of a powerful force for good and protection against the forces of darkness. To determine where the holy symbol is, find this card in Table 1. to determine the 'to hit' and armor class modifiers to use in that place, find this card's suit in Table 2.

The center card and right most cards' text is similarly laid out as the left most card. The center card's text follows: "Second, determine where the Tome of Strahd is (see Treasures and Tomes on p.31 for a description of the Tome of Strahd). Pick up the second card and read the following boxed text. This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient may help you understand a foe. To determine where the Tome is, find this card in Table 1. to determine the 'to hit' and armor class modifiers to use in that place, find this card's suit in Table 2."

The text of right most card follows: "Third, determine where Strahd von Zarovich himself can always be found. Pick up the third card and read the following boxed text This is the object of your search! Ah! I see darkness and evil behind this card! It is a powerful man whose enemy is light and whose powers are beyond mortality! To determine where Strahd can always be found, find this card in Table 1. to find the 'to hit' and armmor class modifiers to use in that place, find this card in Table 2." [End ID]

[ID] The image is a black and white document similar to the previous image. The background is the same color along with the layout of text. The page number is 5. Two cards are above the left column of text. On the right edge of the document is a face of a gargoyle mirroring the previous document. Under the left most card is two sets of text: "Jack" and a diamond are written in pencil and the number 5 and a club written in pen. Under the right most card is two sets of text similar to the left card. The text is the same, just written in pencil and pen: the number 3 and a heart. Under the The left column continues Table 1. The following is the remaining text:

"King Kings Audience Hall (K25) A king's throne is the place to find this The object is lying across the dais behind the throne. If Strahd is there, he is sitting on the throne. Ace Crypt of Strahd (K86) This is a very bad sign. This is in the very heart of darkness: his home, his source. It is his center and his life. It is the one place to which he must return. The object is in a corner of the room. If Strahd is here, he is within his coffin, ready to attack at the first sign of someone opening the lid" Continuing after Table 1 is Table 2. Table 2 is similar to Table 1; the only difference is the location of the box containing text. The box is below a section of text and is the second half of each row. Table 2 contains images of each card suit vertically aligned in the left column of the table. The suites descend in the following order: Heart, Diamond, Clubs, Spades. The suits are solid and are black. The following is the text of the table, including a text replacement of the suit to indicate its location: "Table 2. Fortunes of Ravenloft: Modifiers Suit 'To Hit and Armor Class Modifiers'

Heart The PCs gain a +1 bonus to hit and a -1 bonus to their AC.

There is a very good influence there. If you are there, the power of good will aid you.

Diamond The PCs gain a +1 bonus to hit, but suffer a +1 penalty to their AC.

The diamond blesses your skill there, but bodes poorly for your protection.

Clubs The PCs suffer a -1 penalty to hit, but gain a -1 bonus to their AC

The club sustains your strength here, but holds you from your victory, taking more time than it otherwise would.

Spades The PCs suffer a -1 penalty and a +1 penalty to their AC.

The spade is a dark shadows of evil cast over that place. You fight under its influence here." Table 3 is similar to Table 1, sharing the location of the box containing text in the table. Table 3 is the entirety of the right column. The following is the text of Table 3, ommiting slurs: "Table 3. Fortunes of Ravenloft: Strahd's Goals Card Strahd's Goal

3 or 5 Strahd seeks a new identity.

Not yet, but soon, one who appears to be your friend will become your enemy.

Strahd will try to be alone with a charmed PC. When he is alone with a charmed PC, Strahd casts a polymorph other spell on the PC, turning the PC into a vampire. The spell operates as detailed in the AD&D Players Handbook with the following clarifications. The PC takes the form of a vampire and radiates a magical aura, regardless of whether the PC survives a system shock check or not. A PC that survives a system shock check has all of the abilities of a vampire as detailed in the AD&D Monster Manual, regardless if whether that PC passes a mental check or not. Undead cannot drain levels from undead. Thus, if a polymorphed PC vampire retains his own mind, he and Strahd can fight, but neither can drain levels from the other. They can both, however, drain levels from non-undead. After turning the PC into a vampire, Strahd casts a polymorph self and turns into the likeness of the PC. Strahd puts the new vampire PC into his own coffin and attempts to join the party, masquerading as the PC. Strahd will try to persuade the party that he found a away out of Barovia. Strahd can, after all, open the gates. Strahd wants to move to another country using his new identity. The [slur] will carry dirt from his crypt to his new home.

7 or 10 Strahd wants to make a magical sphere of darkness.

This card tells of a tool of evil. Darkness surrounds and protects this tool, giving comfort to the black hearts and protection from good.

Strahd is trying to assemble a magical item that casts a continuous sphere of darkness. Such an item would greatly extend the range of his travels. Over the centuries he gather the pieces of the sphere one by one, until he is missing only one piece, a black opal. Strahd mistakenly believes that one of the PCs has black opal. Strahd mistakenly believes that one of the PCs has black opal stone. Strahd will use his natural charm person abilities to charm lone PCs. Stahd will send those Charmed Pcs back to the party asking, 'Do you have the black opal?' When Strahd discovers that none of the PCs have a back opal, he will attempt to destroy them.

Jack or Queen Strahd wants to win the love of Ireena Kolyana

The darkness lovesa light and desires it Great subtle plans are in motion about you; plans that the dead may find warmth from the living.

Strahd will attempt to charm all of the PCs, and make them attack Ireena. When they attack, Strahd will swoop down and save her from the PCs. Strahd hopes that the rescue will turn Ireena's heart to him. He wants Ireena to love him willingly rather than by force.

King or Ace Strahd wants the Sunsword.

Here is a high and noble card. One of you carries a weapon that is stronger than any other against the evil in this land. Only one part is missing from this weapon. That part is found in the evil one's lair.

See Treasures and Tomes on p.31 for details about the sunsword. Strahd wants to destroy the sunsword. He believes (correctly) that one of the PCs (a random fighter) has has been unknowingly carrying the sunsword for some time. If the sunsword hilt is found and reunited with the blade, Strahd could be in real trouble."

The text of the left card is the following:

"Fourth, determine where the sunsword hilt is (see Treasures and Tomes on p.31 for a description of the sunsword). Pick up the forth card and read the following boxed text.

This card is good for you. It is a card of power and strength , the victor's card. It tells of a weapon of light, a weapon of vengeance.

To determine where the sunsword is, find this card in table 1. To determine the 'to hit' and armor class modifiers to use in that place, find this card's suit in Table 2."

The text of the right card is the following:

"Last, determine Strahd's goal. Pick up the fifth, and last, card, and read the following boxed text.

And here is the root card. Out of darkness and chaos, this card find the reason and foundation for darkness and chaos. This card shows the purpose of all things. It is the key to life and death and else beyond.

To determine Strahd's goal, find this card on Table 3." [End ID]

My copy is used so it has some writing on it from past fortunes but I think its cute, since the fortunes are still done with playing cards, with the only difference being the reading in Curse of Strahd is far more complex. The objects are the exact same, the Sunsword, the Holy Symbol, and the Tome of Strahd. Similarly, the locations you find these items can also instead be the locations you fight Strahd: the study , his treasure room, the chapel, the top of the high tower, Sergei's crypt, Strahd's crypt, the audience hall with his throne, and Ravenovia's crypt (Strahd's Mother). Taking a step back here to talk about this decision as a whole, I have always loved the randomness. The fact that everyone's experience is always different and unique feels great. It leads to a different narrative expierence each time and gives us a reason to replay the module. I have played Curse of Strahd as a player on three separate occasions with three separate DMs and each experience as a player was unique. Other than each character having that DM's twist or personality, the items were never in the same place so my groups always prioritized different areas. I have also ran my own game of Curse of Strahd and I have felt similar as a DM. I prioritized different characters or locations to add depth to the world. This randomization leads to unique situations that could never be replicated. I think it is one of the most novel ideas that I6 presents and I am so glad all the other adaptations have kept this idea while expanding upon the whole experience.

Jumping back to I6's fortunes, what I found really interesting is that the cards drawn add modifiers to your parties AC and to hit modifier. It feels very odd to me, but also that is because this is something that we do not have an equivalent to in Curse of Strahd. The closest is the ally we get but even then, that is more impactful from a narrative lens than the modifiers. The modifiers feel like a twist that deepens or add to the feeling of struggling against the darkness. It is very mechanical and calls back to more of the dungeon diving elements of early D&D. I don't think that modifiers change the game enough to feel sad that they have disappeared. Then again, we do get something similar with Argyvost's skull in Curse of Strahd so atleast we get some kind of spiritual successor to the modifiers in the reading.

Now I mentioned above Strahd has a goal. He does, its why he grabs the players. In 5th edition, its to toy with them and have amusement more or less and then later he wants them for Ireena. In here he has 4 reasons potentially and I want to talk about each of them. One, to grab Ireena. How he plans this is wild. He will charm the players and make them attack Ireena and he will swoop in and save her since he wants Ireena to love him willingly rather than by force. This is absolutely wild to me that Strahd could play the valiant knight for Ireena. This feels the most vanilla but this is his goal moving forward into Curse of Strahd. I think its smart to make this the "core" goal since he does attack Ireena in the opening of the module and Tatyana is core to Strahd's descent into darkness. Given all the additional material that has come out focused on Strahd, Curse of Strahd made the correct call to make this his focus. I do like that he has other goals as well in Curse of Strahd, but it is a bit of a shame that he doesn't have any of the other goals he has in I6.

The second goal is to steal a player character's identity. He will charm someone, use a spell to turn them into a vampire, shove them in his coffin and then masquerade as the player character using magic. Absolutely amazing. I love this and its also so evil. Like more than most DMs would go evil. "How do you do my fellow player characters". Sadly, this also feels like its retconned with newer Ravenloft lore since Strahd can't actually escape Ravenloft and this ending if he succeeds in stealing someone's identity and convincing the party that he found a way out everyone just leaves Ravenloft. The player who gets turned into a vampire can make checks to be able to fight back and you get this vampire duel which is so cool. Vampires in older versions of D&D can drain levels from players by the way, so the book specifies undead cant drain other undead's levels. Like the set up is amazing, the idea is wild, but there is no way for this to work if we are conforming to the rules of Ravenloft. We kind of get a successor to this goal in Curse of Strahd with Strahd's desire for a consort or successor since he wants to to be able to leave; but the book calls out that Strahd will never find any of the player characters worthy. Again a DM can change this and many have so I feel the spirit of this goal lives on; but we don't really see Strahd becoming a party member only to betray the group. That would be a fun twist however.

The third goal is the only goal where Strahd fails whether the players live or die - he wants to make a magical sphere of darkness. Strahd thinks the players have a black opal stone, which is the last piece he needs to make a big old sphere of darkness to make the world dark and stuff so he can travel more at night. Strahd will charm one player who is alone and have them ask the rest of the players if they have this black opal stone. He is certain they have the stone so when its revealed they don't, he will try to kill the players. Curse of Strahd places Barovia under the magical darkness that he is attempting to create here in this goal, which I think is a perfect way of honoring this goal

The last goal is Strahd wants to destroy the sunsword. So the module recommends the players have a cleric and a fighter as a requirement since the holy symbol is for a cleric and the sunsword is for a fighter. I mention this because Strahd just knows who has the sunsword and if this is rolled, the sword is just magically on this person and not where the fortune says. So Strahd wants to kill them and take the sword and destroy it. This is very boring to me. Like it should be a given rather than an explicit goal. If Strahd has gone out of his way to destory the sword, he should just want to do this regardless if this is a goal. This is the direction Curse of Strahd goes and I think it makes sense. 5th edition focuses more on narrative and less on dungeon crawling so this change is just natural. We even get more lore for the sunsword in 5th edition, it being a sword belonging to Sergei and being sentient. I am not sad to see this goal just disappear and become a background element. It feels like a cop-out to get Strahd to fight the party early. If he knows they have the sword and he knows where they are, why not just kill them? I mean he does like to toy with his prey but if this sword is the biggest threat to his existence, I would expect him to hunt the players down once they near the castle.

Overall, I think the goal's Strahd has in I6 are a mixed bag; some are really novel and some are fairly boring or straightforward. That is my own opinion and I am very curious on how everyone else feels.

Part 4: The lands of Barovia, Barovia Village, and Tser Pool Encampment

I am lumping all of the pre-castle encounters into one section since they are more or less similar to what we know and love from Curse of Strahd.

[ID]

The image is that of a black and white document, with a layout similar to the statblock of Strahd von Zarovich, including the borders of the page. The page number is 6. The following is the text of the left column omitting slurs:

"Lands of Barovia

A perpetual rolling blackness of thunderclouds casts a gray pall over the land. The darker silhouette of Castle Ravenloft looks over the valley from its 1,000 foot pillar of rock.

Castle Ravenloft dominates the small village of Barovia. The castle stads high atop a natural pillar of rock against the cliffs to the north of the village. The dark Svalich woods surround the village and cliffs. Use Map 1 to see the relative locations of the town and Castle Ravenloft.

The road to the village and lands of Barovia goes through ancient iron gates, controlled by the will of Count Strahd. There are only two gates, one east the of village and one west of the castle crossroads up the mountain. The gates open when the PCs arrive but close after they enter Barovia. The gates will not open for the PCs again until Strahd is destroyed.

There is a deathly stillness in the dark Barovian woods. Yet the woods are patrolled constantly by the wolves and serving beasts of Count Strahd.

No one has left Barovia for centuries. This is because of the trapping fog that exists everywhere in Barovia . Once it is breathed, it infuses itself around a character's vital organs as a neutralized poison. the fog does not taste or smell any different than normal fog. It does not harm characters as long as they continue to breathe the air in Barovia. However, when they lave Barovia, the poison becomes active. Characters must save vs. poison or start to choke. Unless choking characters reenter Barovia within 24 hours, they die. The choking stops as soon as they breathe the fog again.

The [slur] were given a potion by Strahd that cancels the effects of the fog. this potion is jealously guarded by Madam Eva, who buried it in a secret place. It is impossible for the PCs to discover the potion. The fog is magically produced by Strahd and disappears entirely upon his destruction.

The poor villagers of Barovia have been terroized for centuries by 'the devil' Strahd. Only the town and the few survivors of the second ruling house of Barovia have the will to offer more than just personal resistance to Strahd. No villager has left Barovia for centuries. Those who tried never returned, dying from the vile snapping teeth of the Barovian wolves and the choking deadly fog.

Every 3 turns, check for na random enoutner. When the PCs are not in castle Ravenloft, during daytime, use Table 4 at the right, during night time, use Table 5 at the right. When the PCs are in Castle Ravenloft, use Table 6 on p.12.

Each night the PCs stay anywhere other than the castle (Area K), Strahd attacks with his wolves and bats. His attacks are intended more to frighten the PCs than to damage them. Strahd mjust toys with them. After 5 melee rounds, Strahd and his creatures withdraw.

If the PCs are indoors, every turn strahd attacks, wolves try to break through a window or door. A roll of 1 or 2 on 1d6 means that a wolf breaks through. Once a wolf gets in, the remainder of the wolves and bats come in. The wolves and Strahd never attack Ireena Kolyana. After 5 melee wounds, all of the creatures flee into the night, leaving only Strahds hollow laughter in the distance.

4-16 (3d6) worg wolves: AC 6; MV 18"; HD 4+4; #AT 1; Dmg 2-8; AL NE.

10-100 (10d10) bats: AC 6; MV 4"/18"; HD 1d4; #AT 0; DMG 0: AL N.

The bats fly into the room, getting into the way of spell casting. Characters must make dexterity checks to cast spells with material components." Some of the text in the right column is cut off. The following is the visible text of the right column including table 4 and table 5 with slurs ommited:

"Strahd may knock at the door, but he cannot enter the building until someone invites him in. Strahd tries to charm characters into inviting him in.

Table 4. Barovia Daytime Random Encounters (Sunup to Sundown)

Roll 1d6. If the result is a 1, the PCs enounter something. Roll 1d6 and us the encounter below with the resulting number.

Roll Encounter

1 2-8 (2d4) worg wolves: AC 6; MV 18"; HD 4+4; #AT 1; Dmg 2-8; AL NE.

2 1-10 [Slur]: AC 6; MV 12"; HD 2; #AT 1; Dmg 1-8; AL NE.

3 1-4 villagers: AC 9; MV 12"; HD 2; #AT 1; Dmg 1-6; AL

4 1-4 worg wolves: AC 6; MV 18"; HD 4+4; #AT 1; Dmg 2-8; AL NE.

5 1-4 [Slur]: AC 6; MV 12"; HD 2; #AT 1; Dmg 1-8; AL NE.

6 1-4 villagers: AC 9; MV 12"; HD 2; #AT 1; Dmg 1-6; AL

Table 5. Barovia Nighttime Random Encounters (Sundown to Dawn)

Roll 1d6. If the result is a 1, the PCs enounter something. Roll 1d12 and us the encounter below with the resulting number.

1-2 1-10 worg wolves: AC 6; MV 18"; HD 4+4; #AT 1; Dmg 2-8; AL NE.

3 2-10 (2d10) worg wolves: AC 6; MV 18"; HD 4+4; #AT 1; Dmg 2-8; AL NE.

4-5 3-12 (3d4) zombies: AC 8; MV 6"; HD 2; #AT 1; Dmg 1-; AL N

6-7 10-100 (10d10) bats: AC 6; MV 4"/18"; HD 1d4; #AT 0; DMG 0: AL N.

8 1 ghost: AC 0/8 if corporeal: MV 9"; HD 10; #AT 1; Dmg 10-40 years; AL LE.

9 3-12 (3d4) ghouls: AC 6; MV 9"; HD 2; #AT 3; Dmg 1-3/1-6; AL CE.

10 1-4 wights: AC 5; MV 12"; HD 4+3; #AT 1; Dmg 1-; AL LE; SA hit drains 1 energy level.

11 1-4 wraiths: AC 4; MV 12"/24"; HD 4+3; #AT 1; Dmg 1-; AL LE; SA hit drains 1 energy level.

12 1 maiden vampire: AC 1; MV 12"/18"; HD 8+3; #AT 1; Dmg 5-10; AL CE; SA hit drains 2 energy level, gaze can charm, become gaseous in same way as Strahd."

[End ID]

The first page of the lands of Barovia is setup for random encounters along with more info on The Mist. It talks about how to handle nighttime, daytime, and indoor encounters.

The encounters will only last 5 melee rounds (again 1st edition stuff, no idea sadly) so the monsters attack the players and then they flee as they serve to scare the players. Similarly for indoors encounters, just that wolves attack with the random encounter and they try to break down the doors and windows (roll a d6, on a 1 or 2 they succeed) and again after 5 rounds, the attack ends.

What is interesting is that you can get attacked by good aligned villagers or atleast encounter them? It is not fully clear but all the other encounters on the table are evil aligned so I imagine its all combats. I say that I am unsure because later on in the castle encounters, the module specifies one encounter as a non-combat. I find it interesting you can just encounter Barovians who will just be silent and treat the players as outsiders. Maybe some will be willing to talk to you? I doubt it but it could serve as a indication to the players that something is not quite right in the land of Barovia.

The night encounters look like they are all combat. My favorite is either the 2-20 wolves (roll 2d10) or the 10 to 100 bats (10d10) bats. Just the sheer number would actually terrify someone. Imagine fighting 50+ bats. That is unforgettable.

Moving on to The Mists, or as the module refers to as the fog, we get some interesting lore elements I want to talk about. The fog here is in fact the mists we think of and the poisoning fog is consistant across second edition; I skimmed through my third edition source book and didn't find a comment, other than Strahd can close the borders and third edition source books tend to play very close to second edition canon. So the poison element is Strahd closing his borders to Barovia and preventing those within Barovia from leaving. You can obtain an antidote to this poison as the Vistani do sell this but second edition calls out that you also need Strahd's permission where in I6 the cure exists but is unobtainable; its just away to explain why the Vistani can come and go. I6's poison is different the Curse of Strahd since players don't start choking in the fog and the fog itself is not poisonous, but rather magical. The fog in Curse of Strahd also gives players exhaustion which is closer to second edition which lowers the players constitution; though unlike I6 or second edition, a player can't leave Barovia even if they succeed on the saving throws.

I want to also talk about the whole decison to add the fog and the consequences to the whole lore of Ravenloft. The fog from a gameplay perspective gives Strahd more power and makes sense as to why the villagers of Barovia have never left, they cant. This whole land is Strahd's lair. In the tome, Strahd calls himself "the land" and being able to control who can enter and leave makes it far more literal. He is quite literally the land, the fog moves when he asks and it bends to his whims. I won't lie and say the early iteration of the fog in I6 is a bit cheesy, like its just a poisonous cloud of fog and the vistani just happen to have the cure so they can come and go but they way it evolves is so interesting. It starts as this trapping force just for the players to becoming the prison that keeps Strahd contained, just that he is literally Barovia itself. He can trap those as part of his curse being the Darklord of Barovia. Its a wonderful role-reversal.

Returning to the module, the next couple pages are the set up for the module and its surprisingly one of the set ups in Curse of Strahd, "Plea for Help"; down to the exact same letter the players receive. It is word for word, only with some minor changes like inserting commas

[ID] The image is a black and white document on a wooden table. It is similar to the previous image. There is text on the page laid out such that there is two boxes containing text with text in the middle separating the boxes. The first box is cutoff in the image; the following is the text starting with a cutoff sentence:

"subdued. The letter is lying before you. Dated yesterday, the ink is still not dry and the parchment is crips. The seal is a crest you don't recognize."

The following is the text between the two boxes:

"If the PCs open the letter, read its content from the following boxed text."

The following is the text in the second box:

"Hail to thee of might and valor:

I, a lowly servant of the township of Barovia, send honor to thee. We plead for thy so desperately needed assistance within our community.

The love of my life, Ireena Kolyana, has been afflicted by an evil so deadly that even the good people of our town cannot protect her. She languishes from her wound and I would have her saved from this menace.

There is much wealth in this community. I offer all that might be had to thee and thy fellows if thou shalt but answer my desperate plea.

Come quickly for her time is at hand! All that I have shall be thine!

Kolyan Indrirovich

Burgomaster

[End ID]

I shouldn't be surprised by this; the "Plea for Help" adventure hook from Curse of Strahd is one of two adventures hooks that don't really need set up or has hard requirements. It also is very organic. Someone comes in and offers your party job, shows off that they are clearly rich by buying the whole tavern drinks for the night, and leaves. The letter is also very forward and offers the party riches for help. Its very simple but effective. I am a bit shocked how the words have not been changed in the 30+ years between the modules; but as I have mentioned earlier Curse of Strahd doesn't take a lot of liberties for the content in I6. The hook also assumes the least about the players which helps with its effectiveness. The hook relies on the party desiring wealth, which in first edition was a guarantee since leveling was associated with gold, and offers some additional motivation for good aligned characters.

Continuing on, as the players enter the Svalich Woods, they also encounter the real letter being sent by the Burgomaster of Barovia village. Again this is the same letter, though some of the words are slightly different, like dropping the words "creature calling its race".

[ID]

The image is a black and white document similar to the previous image. The image has two boxes with text. Between the two boxes is a set of text. The only word legible in the first box is the word: "scream". The following is the text between the two boxed texts:

"Three turns after all the PCs enter the woods, they find a dead villager in the underbrush. He holds an envelope crumpled in his hand. The remains of his clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Paw prints of many large wolves are pressed into the clay around the body. The man has obviously been dead for several days.

The letter is dated one week ago. It is sealed with a large 'B'. The parchment is worn and flimsy. It reads as follows:"

The following text is contained in the bottom box:

"Hail thee of might and valor:

I, the Burgomaster of Barovia send you honor - with despair.

My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena, has been these past nights bitten by a creature calling its race 'vampyr.' For over 400 years, he has drained this land of the life-blood of its people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. Yet I fear, too, that the creature has some more cunning plan in mind. He has become too powerful to be fought any longer."

In small text below the box is the following: "Letter continues on next page."

[End ID]

[ID]

The image is a black and white document similar to the previous image. The border of the document is similar to the "Lands of Barovia" image. There are three potions of text in boxes, with third becoming cutoff and unreadable. Between the first and second box is more text. The first box contains the following text:

"So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the evil one may be contained within the walls of weeeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.

There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life.

Kolyan Indirovich,

Burgomaster"

The text between the first box and second box is as follows:

"Roll 1d6 every turn the PCs ar ein the woods. If the result is 4 or more, the PCs hear a lone wolf cry in the distance. One more wolf cries each round. If the PCs are still in the woods after 5 rounds of howling, the wolves attack. If the PCs are entering Barovia, only 5 wolves attack; if the PCs are attempting to leave Barovia, 25 wolves attack. The wolves stop their attack if the PCs leave the woods by entering the village.

5 or 25 worg wolves: AC 6; MV 18"; HD 4+4; #AT 1; Dmg 2-8; AL NE. "

The following is the text contained within the second box along with its header: "D. The River Ivlis

The river Ivlis flows as clear as a blue winter sky through the valley."

The following is the text contained within the last box along with its header; part of the text is cutoff and the last word visible is 'wet':

"E. The Village of Barovia

Tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet"

[End ID]

Continuing on, the village of Barovia is more or less the same. Ireena is also a 4th level fighter in this module. I find this interesting that she is a level lower than what the players start at (5th level) since Vampires drain levels in 1st edition and this is not so subtle acknowledgement that Ireena was attacked by Strahd and had her blood drank. It also prevents the main npc character from overshadowing the players in fights, though Strahd and the monsters he controls do not target Ireena. Ireena's characterization in I6 and Curse of Strahd is similar, a mild but strong willed fighter. I6 however says she wants to fight and kill Strahd for harming her homeland and killing her father where this only occurs if she is you ally in Curse of Strahd. Ireena is someone who's is fighting for a lost past and a future she can never have. Her life was completely upended several times by Strahd, as both Tatyana and as herself. I6 is a story about Strahd, Tatyana, and Sergei. Strahd's jealously and envy destroying his family and he is cursed to live in a nightmare for eternity as death, the thing Tatyana saw him as. Tatyana is forced to reincarnate endlessly by The Mists to remind Strahd that he can never have her. Sergei can not move on after losing the love of his life and seeing his brother in endless torment. Its a tragedy. Ireena needs to be part of the group who helps kill Strahd. It makes her and Tatyana not some damsel in distress but instead someone who is hurting and who triumphs over their pain to forge a better future; whether or not she ends up with Sergei is left to the DM depending on how the players have interacted with her. Curse of Strahd has some changes, that takes keeps the elements of this story but expands further with the introduction of the randomized ally.

The introduction of a randomized ally frees up that role to be anyone in the cast, with a few exceptions. It allows Curse of Strahd to break away from just a story about Tatyana and Sergei and to be about how Barovia, the country, is suffering at the hands of Strahd and how everyone in the cast has a dark or tragic tale because of this suffering. From Victor hating his homeland and trying to escape to Vasilka, a person who is being made as a wife for Strahd. I don't think you can have both. At the cost of Ireena being the sole focus, we get more depth and re-playability and Curse of Strahd is designed for that in mind. It also lets Ireena free herself as a character from just being Tatyana again. While both have the same ending for Ireena, Curse of Strahd's "Something Blue" special event in Krezk and the optional ending in I6, due to the length of Curse of Strahd, Ireena gets more of a chance to bond with player characters and come to understand the world she lives in and perhaps become more than Tatyana. Again this is up to the DM and the players in roleplay and narrative but I have seen this happen a handful of times. Ireena is allowed to become more unique.

Stepping off of my soapbox and coming back to discussing differences, we come to Donavich; he doesn't have a son in I6. The son is a vampire in the church's basement, that comes from Expedition to Castle Ravenloft, kinda. In Expedition to Castle Ravenloft, Donavich called Danovich, he creates a zombie plague after his son gets killed by Bandits. He hopes to bring him back so he keeps his corpse in the church basement; which yeah that is one hell of a change that gets rolled right back. I am not going to talk about Expedition here, but his personality in Curse of Strahd is much closer to this version than I6's version. In I6, he is close to a generic clerical figure; warm and kind while knowledgeable about evil. Donavich in I6 knows Ireena's whole backstory of being adopted, which Curse of Strahd does stay consistent with. However in I6 he has information on Strahd he is suppose to give the players, mainly info about the tome of Strahd.

He is almost a different character in Curse of Strahd because how much he is hurting from his son being a vampire. The villagers do not trust him in Curse of Strahd and he is losing his grip on reality. He is doing everything he can to save his son and clearly wants to help the players when they meet him. He is also the one to give the players the idea to take Ireena to Krezk and the abbey. And if he is your ally, you have to help him kill his son and give him a proper burrial. Without Doru, Donavich is much more put together and reasonable. He wants to help the heroes just as much but he isn't an actual cleric, he doesn't have magic. And if he were to leave, then the only place of good in Barovia would fall to darkness which gives him a reason to stay behind. I do not have a strong opinion on which version I like more. I think both fit the energy of the Ravenloft as a whole and both serve their purposes well. Doru exists to give Curse of Strahd more darkness in the opening and highlight that the players were not the first to try to kill Strahd. I did go on about the changes for Ireena but making Donavich a potential ally really fits with his I6 counterpart even if he wasn't really a fighter in I6. The reasoning for him join is very clear. He has lost nearly everything, and the only thing he has left to give is himself. A father who wants the devil to pay for killing his son. He gains a conviction, which is something that is missing in I6.

Outside of Ireena and Donavich, there aren't any more major differences until the castle. Once you get to the gate that we know would lead to Villaki, the carriage to Castle Ravenloft appears and it waits for the players to enter to go to the castle. The module breaks if you don't enter the carriage which makes sense. Vallaki, Krezk, and the rest of Barovia don't exist in lore as this is the first module. When all the players arrive at the Castle, the drawbridge drops down and it has one of the funniest and also probably most infuriating ways you can die. Quoting the book "Each time anyone except Strahd crosses the bridge, there is a 5% chance of a cross board breaking. If the cross board breaks. the character on it must make a dexterity check or fall to the bottom of the cliffs, 1000 feet below". In other words, 5% chance you need to make a dex save, on a fail you die. I had to share; first edition is fairly infamous for traps that can just kill you and I6 is no exception. I am so glad we do not design dungeons this way anymore.

[ID]

A black and white document on a wooden table similar to the previous image. The border of document is the same as the previous image. The page number is at the center of the bottom of the page; the page number is 10. The document is a black and white image of a carriage drawn by two horses heading to a large castle. The carriage is in the left corner of the document. The style of the carriage invokes victorian style. The carriage has three accents that divide the carriage into sections horizontally. At the top of the cairrage is a holding area for luggage and other objects. In front of the carriage is a drivers set which is unmanned. On the right of the drivers set is a parking lever. The back of the carriage is additional luggage space, in the shape of an "L". Below this additional luggage space is a seal that is illegible. The carriage has 3 windows each spaced equally apart on the upper half of the right side. Above the the right window is a Victorian styled lantern. The door to the carriage is in the center of the right side of the carriage. The door's hinges are on the right of the door and the door's handle is on the left. On the lower half of the door is a symbol of what appears to be a bird or bat. Three of the carriages wheels are visible: The Front right and both rear wheels. The left rear wheel is cut off by the page. The right rear wheel is cutoff by dust and the page. The front right wheel is obscured by dust. All the wheels are attached to the bottom of the carriage and each other with a bar.

The carriage is being pulled by two large black horses. Their harnesses appear to be uniform in make are similar. The harness attaches near their neck and the middle of the back, and near the hip. The horses are controlled by reins that attach at the horses mouths and face and loop into the harness before becoming no longer visible.

The castle is in the background. The castle is made up of several spires and a drawbridge. The drawbridge has two towers at the end of the bridge. The drawbridge is attached to a large barbican by a chains. The barbican has three visible towers, one at the left corner of the wall, and two towers between the gate of the barbican. Above the gate of the barbican the same symbol that is on the carriage's door. Each tower and the walls between the towers have battlements. Behind the walls is the keep. The keep has 5 visible towers, two on the left and right of the keeps center barely visible, one tower that lacks a spire on the right taller than the keep and is attached to the left tower by a bridge, the left tower is taller than the right tower and has an attached spire, and the tallest tower on the right with a spire at the top. The keep has a chimney under the bridge attaching the two towers.

The foreground has a set of trees obscured by the carriage on the left with a patch of grass in the bottom right corner. The background behind the tower is a set of mountains only illuminated by a large lighting strike. The lightning starts in the top right corner and flows left towards a set of trees in the foreground. The carriage is traveling on a dirt path that leads into the castle.

[End ID]

Part 5 The Castle

Starting of the castle section similar to the previous one with Castle Ravenloft's encounters. You can encounter Strahd randomly but the most interesting encounter is the angry villagers which make you get more encounters because they are making a ton of sound but will help out in a fight. They don't attack the players but I think its a fun bit of story telling to have others who are fed up with Strahd's rule helping the players as they explore the castle.

Before I continue onto the rest of the castle bit by bit, I want to talk about the npcs in the castle. The biggest difference in the castle is Rahadin. Rahadin is actually introduced into 5th edition. The dusk elves don't exist until 4th edition and are introduced in one of the Dungeon Magazine issues, in specifically "Fair Barovia"; side tangent on the side tangent, look into Fair Barovia, it has some really cool similarities to 5th edition and it feels a bit like 5th editions proof of concept for Vallaki. Anyway, Rahadin and the Dusk Elves just don't exist. Nothing about them at all is in the older versions of Ravenloft. The closest thing are the Shadow Fey but the whole Drow/Shadow Fey retcon is a neat topic for its own day. Gosh sorry, Rahadin. He probably is my favorite change to the module full stop. He adds so much more depth to Strahd and his own darkness. Rahadin allows Strahd to be more human. He has someone who is his weakness and vice versa, Rahadin's weakness is his loyalty to Strahd. He can be just as meanacing as Strahd and just as cold while at the same point letting the players feel above him since whenever/if ever the players have dinner with Strahd, Rahadin is forced to be the servant. Yet it feels like there is something more. He takes care of the dirty work for the master of the castle, sometimes its cleaning, sometimes its killing. Overall, I wish the dusk elves were better integrated into the story of Curse of Strahd since other than Rahadin's backstory along with the whole Patrina and Kasamir story line, they don't get a ton of flavor and because they are so recent and it makes me sad, especially since the Dusk Elves are from wherever Barovia is from and some older modules touch on this exactly, mainly the hexad modules (again another time if people want).

Speaking of Patrina - She exists! Wait I just said the dusk elves don't exist. Correct! Both are true statements. She is made into an elf vistani, which is a bit weird. 2nd and 3rd edition make it clear that only humans can be Vistani while 4th and 5th say it doesn't matter (they invent Mother Luba for Tasha's Cauldron of Everything and add her in with Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft; she is a halfling). So uh, no idea what this means. 1st edition breaking all the rules! 5th edition dropping the Vistani part and making her a Dusk Elf does let Rahadin have more depth as I mentioned. I think this element is just messy lore because Ravenloft was just a module; it wasn't intended to be the start of a setting. Weird things like this happen. Otherwise for Partrina, her backstory is more or less the same. Just Kasamir doesn't exist in I6. Curse of Strahd does a much better job integrating her into the overall setting of Ravenloft, even if it meant inventing a type of elf native to Barovia. I was honestly a bit shocked reading that she existed in I6 since elves don't have a strong place in Barovia when it comes to the greater Ravenloft canon. Patrina's expansion and role in the story along with Rahadin and Kasamir add depth that I would never want to remove and feel almost as if this was something missing from second or third edition. Something that is a one line piece of text and encounter in the crypts became something far more interesting and it makes Curse of Strahd better for it.

The next changes are Strahd's vampire brides (and Escher). They do not exist in I6. I don't have any fun facts on like when they were added or what inspired them; just that they are added in 5th edition. I am curious as to why they were included. Strahd isn't just after Tatyana, given that Patrina is from 1st edition, so it make sense he could have some wives (and someone else) so is that why? I would love to talk to someone who made Curse of Strahd and ask so so many questions but I just don't have the info on why they exist. They give flavor and depth. That's probably it. I feel a bit sad that my extent of knowledge on these characters is what it is. Escher is a fan favorite since he is such a sad man who is now over his head. WotC did a good job in adding them since they feel fundamental to the experience of Castle Ravenloft as well as add some additional encounters that are not in I6.

Moving onto another character, Cyrus is Human in I6. He is the only Belview in the module but he is human. The mongrelfolk aren't from 1st edition Ravenloft. I specify this because one, they do exist in 1st edition and two, they do exist in Ravenloft, just later. The mongrelfolk are similar to another creature in Ravenloft, Broken Ones. Just Mongrelfolk tend to be nicer and more friendly (and also have a much sadder existance in G'henna) than the Broken Ones. It makes sense they would live with the Abbot since he is a kind being (good aligned atleast) and they are outcasts who need to constantly look for a home. Just, they are completely an addition to 5th editions version of the module (and Barovia as a whole). I am not going to go into the changes 5th edition does for Barovia as a setting but I do think it would make for an interesting topic. Making Cyrus a mongrelfolk makes him more friendly and overall adds more horror flavor to the world. Every major character is human, that is so bland. The point does work though, it makes non-human characters outsiders. It works well, but adding a bit of change here or there makes the world more interesting because you get characters your players can relate to. A drow character can relate to the dusk elves for example. The Belviews add that depth and strangeness that wouldn't be there if they weren't mongrelfolk. In 1st edition, Cyrus is just an old man who tells jokes at bad times and tries to lead the players to their rooms. I like 5th edition's change; he stays this old man but is far more likable personally.

News for Pidlwick II fans, he does not exist yet sadly. He was created for 5th edition. I generally like clockwork automatons and while Barovia really isn't clockwork-y compared to other Domains (looking at some of the more advanced domains like Paridon), living dolls are so cool. He has some interesting flavor if you expand him into the greater Ravenloft setting since he could be considered a Dread Construct. The lore around Pidlwick II however, is fairly interesting. I6 and Curse of Strahd disagree on who Pidlwick the first is; well I say I6 disagrees, its more the lore given to him in 3rd edition's source books is different than the lore Curse of Strahd uses. In Curse of Strahd, Pidlwick is a fool of Duchess Dorfniya Dislisyna and Fritz von Weerg made Pidlwick II and Pidlwick II killed Pidlwick. In the second and third edition canon, Pidlwick is the husband of Dorfiya Dilisnya and the "father" of one of the most important characters in all of Ravenloft canon, Leo Dilisnya. Leo deserves his own post as well but if you know "I, Strahd" you know Leo. Anyway Pidlwick's mother gets murdered and he starts an assassination war with the Petrovna families called the War of the Silver Knives. Strahd orders the assassinations to end and Pidlwick grows to despise Strahd since he didn't avenge his mother. Leo takes on this hatred for Strahd when Pidlwick dies. Now why is he called a Fool of Dorfniya? Its assumed its because Leo isn't his son by blood and he was cucked by another character. That is such a wild difference in lore for once character but without it, Pidlwick II wouldn't exist. Yet Leo's remains do exist in Curse of Strahd in Wachterhaus but I am getting off topic.

Lastly on the who's whos of the castle: Helga, Lief, and Gertruda exist and 5th edition leaves them unchanged. They exist, they fill their roles the exact same way. It is still very cool to me to see how much of this module can remain the same over 30+ years across several editions.

Now onto the Castle proper; I will be sprinkling in throughout this section the remaining art in the module as there is only a handful more and the rest is text. Something I think that was interesting when I was looking over the other editions of this module is that they all use the same numbering for the locations in the castle. Like K30 is the Office of the King's Accountant in I6. Curse of Strahd also makes K30 - King's Accountant. Overall. I think this is wonderful and its something most people wouldn't notice and only the dedicated fans like myself would. And I love this. And it makes my life easier since I can refer to each room in the castle by its location number. Now overall, the castle is the same in Curse of Strahd as it is in I6 so I will only mention any notable changes.

The first of which is K15 - Chapel of Ravenloft. We don't actually get the name of the figure who tries to steal the Icon of Ravenloft in I6 and in Curse of Strahd the icon is more powerful. In I6 it just lets you heal any creature 6 to 21 hit points and makes the ability to turn undead stronger while 5th edition adds the Protection from evil and good radius and the augury spell. Its also said to be 10 pounds in 5th edition while 1st edition just says its small; which 10 pounds is not small. Then again its a foot tall silver statuette that is half a food wide, so I think 5th edition is correct in making it fairly heavy. I am curious for the reasoning in making the Icon stronger, the protection from evil and good spell is so useful in this dungeon and the augury spell is just fun flavor.

Next is K20 - Tower Hall of Honor or as 5th edition calls it Heart of Sorrow. Yeah, the biggest change is the name. Its called the Guardian of Sorrow as mentioned earlier in this post. The animated halberds also aren't flying swords or anything but instead how the Guardian of Sorrow attacks. The heart actually makes the players take dexterity saving throws every round or they fall down the stairs since the whole castle is shaking which is cool but annoying. The module does mention explicitly the players can move at 1/4 movement to avoid the saving throws but still awful. Atleast 5th edition had the kindness to just knock you prone when you failed the dexterity save rather than fall down to a lower floor. The heart also doesn't have any kind of life/shield link with Strahd like it does in 5th edition; it just exists. Saying it "exists" underpins the whole thematic reason its here. Like the whole purpose of the heart is to say the castle is alive, and maybe the land is alive even? The whole "I am the land" in his journal seems far more literal now, like this could be his heart! Its so brutal. 5th edition makes the link even more clear; he is hurt when you hurt the heart and the heart takes damage for him. Its a masterful change in 5th edition, it adds flavor and gives the players more reason to explore. I also like "Guardian of Sorrow" far better than "Heart of Sorrow" but that's me.

[ID]

The image is a black and white document of Strahd von Zarovich playing an organ. The organ takes up the majority of the image, being cut off by the left edge of page curving around and ending at the right half of the page. The top left to the top center are the organs pipes in two rows, each topped with a dragon head open as if to breathe fire. Part of the back row of the pipes are cut off by the top of the image. The pipes are then hidden by the organs at their bottom. The organ appears to have 4 rows of keys that make the up center of the organ. Above the top row of keys as well as the left and right of they keys appear to be buttons or knobs to activate additional elements of the organ. Dividng the buttons from the keys appears to be inlays with circles. Bellow the organ is two rows of swell pedals that get hidden behind Strahd and the darkness of the image. In front of the swell pedals is the pedal board of the organ. The right end of the organ is a ornate carving of the dragon. Below the dragon is a post carved to look like the dragon's feet. Below the foot of the dragon is the signature of Clyde Caldwel.

Playing the organ is Strahd von Zarovich. His left hand is on the second row of keys while his right hand is in the air as if to strike the keys dramatically. Both his left and right arms show a visible undershirt sleeve. The left arm has a button near the sleeve. His right hand has nails like claws. Only the left profile of his face is visible. His hair is licked back but fades into the darkness of his clothes. The rest of his clothing is veiled in the darkness and are to obscure to make out.

The chair Strahd is sitting in is mostly obscured by his cloak. The left portion of the chair is visible; the upholstery of the chair along with its front left leg. Keeping the upholstery in place are round staples or buttons. The left leg is carved to look like the foot of a lion or beast.

[End ID]

K30 - Office of the King's Accountant. The biggest difference is 1st edition has less loot and the reason Lief is upset is slightly different. Lief wants access to the hidden treasury. Why he knows this is never explained but he also knows the whole layout of the castle and will give the players a map to the holy symbol like in 5th edition so I assume he knows it exists but Strahd won't let him use it. I don't know when "Manual of Bodily Health" is first created but it doesn't exist in 1st edition's version of the module so I assume it was added as more interesting loot than just money, since 1st edition has the same amount of money but the manual is replaced with 100 books worth 10 gp each. I like this minor but impactful change. If the player characters are just playing Curse of Strahd, the manual is just as impactful as if it was more money but if they go beyond Strahd into another game, this is far more impactful. Either way, its a cool and fun change.

K31 - Trapworks. The only difference here is the damage you take from being on the top of trap. In 1st edition its 3d10 with no save to avoid damage while in 5th edition is a dexterity save taking 8d10 on a failure, which is so much more. I imagine this is because players should be nearing the level cap for the module and that level cap is far higher for Curse of Strahd than Ravenloft but also I have no context for hitpoints in 1st edition, this could be much more damage. Everything else is the same, magical sleep hits the players and then they are trapped. Overall its a really cool trap, I never have seen it in action and I want to here stories about being imprisoned or the elf of the party saving everyone; seems like a really cool narrative moment.

K41 - Treasury. Similarly to Office of the King's Accountant, the 5th editions version just has far more stuff, but also its missing some things. Mainly all the magical weapons. 1st edition has a +2 sword and 3 +3 maces in addition to all the money. It makes sense to give the player a load of magical weapons since in 1st edition, vampires can only be damaged by +1 or more weapons. So this is a solution to a problem that they player will encounter when they go to fight Strahd. It also reinforces the need to explore dungeons and keeps up with 1st editions dungeon diving nature. I think this is kinda cool, I don't think I know of a module that hands players multiple +3 weapons at once. 5th edition swaps those out for the +2 shield, some potions, and the instant fortress along with the helm of brilliance, rod of the pact keeper and alchemy jug. I think both are fun treasure piles but I think 5th edition benefits from having a larger pool to draw magic items from. The shield is also unique to Curse of Strahd since Argynvostholt was added for 5th edition. I think both treasuries fit the version they are in. Like 5th edition does not focus to heavily on better gear as a requirement for fights, it just makes fights easier. So a diverse pool of gear is better than a large amount of magical weapons; especially since a magical weapon isn't needed to hurt Strahd. 1st edition does focus on that sort of progression so magical weapons make a ton of sense and as I mentioned, characters need magical weapons to hurt Strahd at all. The module is designed for six to eight characters in 1st edition; which is larger than most parties are in 5th edition. There is one sunsword but what if there are 3 fighters? This is how you get around the problem.

K46 - Courtyard outlook or Parapets in 5th edition. 5th edition added an encounter here. Neat. You have to linger here to fight Strahd's armor but you can. I don't have much more to say than it surely is an encounter that exists.

K49 - Lounge. I need to share that they changed the book titles here. One of the old ones is a gem in my opinion. "Identifying Blood Types: A Beginner's Handbook". I think it just neat. That's all.

K63 - Wine Cellar. This area is expanded quite a bit, flavor wise, in 5th edition. First off - potential encounter with a slime. Neat. Second, all the wine is explicitly from the Wizard of Wines. I like this, thats all.

[ID]

The document is a black and white image similar to the above image. The image is of Ireena Kolyana standing next to the portrait of Tatyana. Ireena's hair appears to be dark, messy, and long, going past her shoulders. Ireena appears to be wearing lipstick. Ireena's outfit is that of a traditional longsleeve vest and pants with a cloak. Around her neck is a cross with a gemstone in the center of the crucifix. The cloak around her neck is held in place by a clasp with a tassels and a gemstone in the middle of the clasp. Around Ireena's waist is a belt with three buckles, one in the center and one on each side of the middle buckle. The bottom of Ireena's shirt is a repeating pattern of a hollow white diamond with a black square in the center of each diamond and a white dot in the middle of each square. The diamond pattern is on a strip of black fabric. Ireena's pants appear to be dark in color with no discernable features. Ireena casts a shadow on the wall behind her on the left side of the image. In Ireena's left hand is her sword which she is pushing into the ground. The sword appears to be in its hilt and it cut off by the bottom of the image. The hilt has two circular inlays with gem stones. The bottom of the two inlays appears to be in the middle of a cross inlay. Near the top round inlay is a loop that has a strap passing through. Ireena's posture is tall and proud, with her right hand at her waist and her left arm leaning on her sword; clearly poising next to a portrait very similar to her appearance. She is facing the right

The portrait is of Tatyana. Tatyana is sitting in a chair, looking left of the viewer. Tatyana has the same face, hair, and lipstick as Ireena. On Tatyana's head is a crown and 3 strings of pearls from the crowns right end flowing behind her hair. Tatyana is wearing a dress with several sets of jewelry. The first is a large necklace with a round pendent with a inlaid gemstone At the end of the neck of the dress is another piece of jewelry, a diamond shaped button with a gemstone. Tatyana's hands are resting at her lap. Each wrist has a bracelet. At her waist is a cloth belt with circular buckle like piece. The chair she is sitting in has a curved back. The left portion of the chair is hidden and not visible. The right portion shows a carved accented arm that curves round into a spiral. Behind Tatyana is a curtain, that is drawn such that it curves behind her. The portrait's frame is heavily accented. The corners are three leaves facing outward, with the middle leaf being the largest, and a curved bow like accent attacked to the leaves, with the bow's guard or point facing the portait. At the middle of the frame section are additional smaller accents: A circle with a gemstone in the middle cut such that the circle looks to be two portions; from the gemstones are two curved limbs that mirror each other; where the limbs meet the circle are two small spikes pointing away from the portrait. Between all the accents are small circles in the middle of the frame's edges. Below the portait is the signature of Clyde Caldwel.

[End ID]

K67 - Guard's Hall or Hall of Bone in 5th edition. This area is very different. Like not the same area different almost. In 1st edition this is just a hallway. Thats it. Ok, Strahd does still kill is guards here, so there is stained blood still. But 5th edition adds in a whole skeleton/bone art sculpture made by Cyrus because why not honestly. That may come off as mean sounding, I think its actually just amazing. I have a soft spot for Cyrus. This can also be a spot for your treasure or Strahd's encounter which that isn't the case in 1st edition. Lastly, the ossuary has the skull of Argyvost which doesn't exist in 1st edition as I already have mentioned. Taking a step back, its interesting that 5th edition just invented a room. Like original Strahd did not have a bone room. You know, a room for bones of those he murdered. Granted he didn't make this, Cyrus made the bone zone. But is 5th edition Cyrus that much more wild compared to 1st edition then? Or better yet, Strahd just let him do this? That you can fight Strahd here or better find this tome here means he enjoys this room possibly? Like he is sitting at the end of a table in a chair of bone holding the dragon skull; what even? I don't know, there is more to say here than the bone room is cool but I love it. I need to know the reason behind the bone room minus "give the vampire a bone room". If its just that, kudos to the people fighting for this wonderful set piece. Such an amazing addition.

K75- South Dungeon. The real change is giving Emil a character. He does exist in 1st edition but he is unnamed and he just joins the party once freed to help kill Strahd but betrays the party once an opportunity arises. Emil is very similar in 5th edition unless the players know Zuleika (or she is your ally due to the reading) in which case he may join to help kill Strahd or just try to flee instead. I like that they made him a fully fleshed out character along with the werewolves without changing much of his actual role in the story unless you happen to get Zuleika as an ally which makes sense. I am not going into too much about Emil since his story is more related to the werewolves than the castle itself.

K78 - Brazier Room. This is very different/. The purpose of this room in I6 is to block the players from entering into the catacombs or other parts of the castle. Its a puzzle room with no hints other than an hourglass representing time in rounds, the golems each have unique stones their hands that can be thrown into the fire. Each stone has a different associated door and the golems won't attack unless the timer runs out. Other than this puzzle, there is a chest that 5th edition doesn't have for a good reason. First its trapped and if you open it from the front you fall asleep. If you can't be put magically asleep, the chest looks empty due to illusion magic after you open it from the front. So you need to open it from behind. Inside it has some spell scrolls, some potions, and of course a deck of many things. The deck of many things is a wonderful way to end a campaign; though I have no idea what the difference between 1st editions deck and 5th editions. I imagine not much has changed since 5th edition is quite brutal. There is probably a few 5th edition adventures that include the deck of many things somewhere but I don't personally like the item. In older editions where characters feel a bit more disposable, the deck is fine since it can just kill your character, but in 5th edition it can derail a campaign instantly. Anytime the deck has come out, the campaign almost instantly ends or becomes derailed since we now need to save a character because they pulled a card that does something awful to them.

5th edition completely changes this room to be a teleportation room to anywhere in Barovia basically using the same flame color puzzle but with a riddle which is nice and it removes the deck of many things for obvious reasons. I get the changes, it keeps the thematic purpose of the room the same and also removes the deck but also I miss the trap; one more final challenge if you need to get into the catacombs. The change also adds in flavor as to how Strahd can be everywhere in Barovia at any time, he can literally teleport. I think personally, the teleportation puzzle wasn't neccesary but the removal of the chest was. Curse of Strahd is a much longer campaign and to have it get derailed in the 9th hour would be unsatisfying for a lot of players. I6 is probably banking on the players using the deck once Strahd is dead as a treasure and hook for the next story. If you want a story with the Deck of Many Things, you could probably make it work as a way to keep your players in Ravenloft as a continuation but it might take some tweaking.

[ID]

The image is a black and white document of a knight with a sword and shield fighting zombies in water.. The image is similar to the previous image. The knight is on the left side of the image while the fully visible zombie is on the right. There are 3 zombified hands clawing up from the water; two near the knight and one in the background between the knight and zombie. The knight is positioned such that they are about to strike the zombie with their sword. The knight is wearing a helmet, scale mail, a shield, a curved sword, pants, greaves, and gauntlets. Their helmet is ornate with several curved inlays on the forehead of the helm. The top of the helm is spiked. The area of the helmet where the face would be located is open but there is no visible face. The helm curves down to guard the neck as it meets up with the scale mail. There is a strip of metal from the top of the helm to the base in the middle of the back of the helm. the scalemail flows from the neck to the upper thigh of the knight. On the knights shoulders is a set of pauldrons. The section of the scale mail around the neck is curved, suggesting that the helm scale mail section is on top of the body scale mail. The knight's overshirt is ripped apart at the chest, revealing the scale mail underneath. There is a strap from the knight's right shoulder flowing down to the left side of the knights waist with a buckle and gemstone inlay near the shoulder. At the end of the strap is a string of pearls or gemstones. Similarly, there is a mirroring strap that starts on the left should and meets the right side of the knights waist; this strap is thinner than the other strap. The shield is in the knight's left hand. The shield is round with a cross painted on the center of the shield. There is wear around the edges of the shield. In the knight's right hand is the curved sword. The sword appears to be a scimitar or a falchion. The swords guard curves up on both sides. Light creates a visible shine off the sword. The knight has a belt at their waist with six circular inlays each spaced equally. The knight's overshirt continues to the left of their body, covering part of their pants. The knight's pants are dark in color and have wrinkles near the right knee. The knight's right knee is protected by a their greaves. The top of the right boot is just visible above the water. One of the three zombie hands is grabbing at the knights right leg.

The zombie fighting the knight is crouched near the water with its left hand reaching to claw the knight and the right hand in the water. The zombies clothes are torn into rags. These rags barely cover the zombie, with big pieces of cloth dangling off the chest and left arm. The zombie's face is heavily decayed as it makes a gaunt snarl to the knight. The zombie's hair is ratty and short. Across the zombie's body are boils and scars. The zombie's chest is hidden and darkned.

The background of the image is misty on the left which flows down to the center of the image; with chains becoming visible in the right corner. The water of the image contains off colored pools around the knights legs, the middle zombified hand, and the zombies limbs in the water. In the bottom right corner of the image is signature of Clyde Caldwel.

[End ID]

The crypts are the next and generally, they either received more loot of flavor since most of they crypts in 1st edition are simple. Most are just text with flavor like "Beucephalus, The Wonder Horse. May the flowers grow ever greener where he trods" (yes they misspelled the name of Alexander the Great's horse in text, look at the last image in my post, Crypt 39). Anyway those that did have significant changes are listed below. Generally, assume Curse of Strahd gave each crypt either a description of the person interred or wealth inside the crypt if I did not mention anything in particular.

Crypt 6 - Marya Markovia. Her crypt is very different in Curse of Strahd. They added her thighbone as a weapon and changed her epithet from "Great was her beauty, undone by a jealous hand" to "Dead for all time". I think this was done to bring more flavor to the morninglord stuff since Barovia really didn't have any ties to the Morninglord other than some elements in "Vampire of the Mists", one of the Ravenloft novels.

Crypt 7 - Endrovich (Endrovich the Terrible) - In changing Marya Markvoia, Endrovich had to be changed. They explicitly call out Marya Markvoia as the one Endrovich loves but since Marya's crypt is Markvoia's crypt now, he just loves a generic Marya with no surname. He also doesn't haunt a gargoyle in 1st edition, he is just a specter you encounter. He also is guarding a stack of 3,400 gp in 1st edition.

Crypt 13 - King Intree Katsky- 1st edition this is just a named crypt with nothing. 5th edition gives him a gun! And a glider. Interestingly enough, firearms are not uncommon in flavor in Ravenloft. There is a lot of imagery and artwork of characters with firearms throughout Ravenloft in 2nd and 3rd edition source books so this is a fitting change.

Crypt 29 - Ivan Ivanovich, Beloved of Anna Betrovich- Yeah this is just not in 5th edition. This crypt is just straight up different. It belongs to Baron Eisglaze Drüf and has actual stuff in it, mainly a luck blade and brown mold for environmental cold damage. 1st edition just has nothing

Crypt 30 - Perfect Ciril Romulich - Since the morninglord doesn't exist yet, 1st edition does not have a holy symbol that blows up on evil creatures. Instead its 10 +1 arrorws, a scroll of raise dead and 3 potions, one is a potion of poison (yum), one is clairvoyance, and one is invulnerability.

Crypt 35 - This crypt is unused in 1st edition. The ghoul trap is new to 5th edition.

Crypt 37- Gralmore Nimblenobs. 5th edition does Nimblenobs dirty. He has so many more scrolls plus a +1 sword that can let you cast wish. Excuse me? I get the change but come on just the three scrolls for 5th edition and calling him "wizard ordinaire" is just bullying a dead guy who knew wish.

[ID]

The image of a black and white document of a vampire on the left side of the page and text on the right like previous images. The top of the pages has a similar border as previous images. The vampire is a women in a dress with a set of jewelery. The women's hair is long and dark, partially obscured by the darkness of the background. She is baring her fangs to the viewer. Her dress straps are thin. Her right hand is raised towards her face. Around her neck is a neclace with several gemstones. Around both arms are bracelets; her left arm has two bracelet while her right arm has a bracelet with 3 visible gemstones. Around her chest are several sets of bindings, one crossing under her breasts, one crossing at the waist, and two crossing around her chest forming an "x". The background of the image is darkness that fades to light from top to bottom. To the right of her waist is s signature of Clyde Caldwel.

Not all the text on the right is visible. The following is the visible text:

"A body in white clothing rots naturally, in small chest. Whithin the chest are 10+1 arrows and 3 bottles containing potions of poiso invulnerability

Crypt 31. '$$We knew him only by his wea

There is a large, bulging chest in the center is a trapper who attacks anyone that steps up

1 trapper: AC 3; MV 3"; HD 12; hp 62; #A AC; AL N.

Crypt 32. "St. Finderway, Saint of Lost Tr

The crypt is featureless except for two al Over the alcoves is written "Pass not the mortals!"

These alcoves are transmitting and r alcoves on the east sends thoses who enter alcove in K86. Stepping into the western receives persons teleporting from the west

Crypt 33.

The stone door is blank. This crypt has

Crypt 34. "King Dostron"

Crypt 35.

The stone door is blank. This crypt has

Crypt 36.

The stone door is clawed and marked so The tomb is empty

Crypt 37. "Gralmore Nimblenobs"

The stone door only gives the name abo within, rotting naturally. About the co one wish; a scrholl with hcarm monst polymoprh self spells; and a scroll w haste, lightning bolt, and slow spells.

Crypt 38. "Americo Standarski (Inve

When this crypt is opened, three pair out. Three hellhounds attack. These damage at up to 10 feet from their sco points if the character saves vs drago breath once per round for as many ro

3 hellhounds: AC 4; MV 12"; HD 5; hp + breath weapon; AL. LE.

Crypt 39. "Beucephalus, The Won grow ever greener where he trods."

This crypt has a larger door than all rears up when the door is opened breath obscures vision, blinds oppo"

[End ID]

For the rest of the crypt, there really isn't any changes. The trap that leads you to a pit full of enemies is from I6. Sergi's armor is +2 plate mail which is reflected in 5th edition, Stradh's teleport trap is the same, and you need to be lawful good to enter the tomb of Barov and Ravenovia; though 5th edition added the squeezing part for small sized player characters. Generally speaking, the crypt really didn't get changed. What was changed in Curse of Strahd was mainly done for balance purposes or to make the crypt more align with the canon that Curse of Strahd uses.

Now about those magic items. How different is the holy symbol or the sunsword. Surprisingly not much. The holy symbol basically has a daylight affect, though its different, weaker, and you can only use it once a week. However, your turn undead feature is stronger while using it. The sunsword is weird but also basically the same. The biggest difference in I6 is that you have to build it. One of the players who is a fighter with sword has the blade portion already, just they don't know it. The blade of the sunsword when not in the proper hilt acts like a normal blade. You have to take the blade out and put it in the sunswords hilt and then its a sunsword. Its a +2 sword except against undead which makes it a +3 and it does extra damage. The flavor of it being separated by a magician and then lost is is also from I6 but the flavor of the blade being Sergei's originally is not in I6.. Lastly, the Tome of Strahd; the passages are the same. I mean "I am The Ancient, I am The Land" is iconic so it would be a shame if 5th edition changed it. Given how much of the module is the same, the tome remaining unchanged is not surprising.

Lastly, talk about is the optional ending. I mentioned when I was talking about Ireena that the "Something Blue" special event in Krezk in Curse of Strahd occurs in I6. It is the optional ending that can play out once the players kill Strahd. I don't want to talk much more on Ireena but moving the ending to Krezk in Curse of Strahd makes sense. If we want other characters to be the ally against Strahd, having her story arc end once she arrives in Krezk feels appropriate.

Closing Thoughts

I know this was a fairly long post but I think it let me kind of go off on my random knowledge I have on Ravenloft as well as discuss some changes and liberties Curse of Strahd decided to take. Its a very iconic module and the fact that it has stood the test of time more or less unchanged is a testament to how impressive and popular this module was in the 1980s. It also gave me a bit of an insight as to the decisions the designers made in Curse of Strahd and their reasoning since despite staying faithful to I6, Curse of Strahd generally made changes for the better in my mind. I may have come across critical of Curse of Strahd but that is more than likely my own bias since WotC has somewhat shown disregard for second and third edition canon which has grown to upset me. If I were to expand upon my thoughts on Curse of Strahd, I would want to talk about it as a follow up since I ignored a majority of the module. I6 is fairly short compared to Curse of Strahd. That is to the benefit of Curse of Strahd, since it is able to flex its world building far more than I6. There were also some topics I never talked about, like the the monster stat blocks. Mainly because I don't have anything meaningful to say. I have never learned how to play older editions of D&D and I really only have passing knowledge. I can take photos and add them as an addendum is someone is able to explain what they actual mean.

Lastly, forgive me if I talk over topics several times in this post. It grew in scope and size several times and had a couple of re-writes. My brain is rot and its full of gothic horror.

#dnd #d&d #d&d 5e #curse of strahd #ravenloft #d&d lore #very long post #cw: slurs #ttrpg #dungeons and dragons

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sluckythewizard · 11 months ago

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THEY could give me the surgurey i need (inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)

#THE SUCKENING IS S O COOOOL GUYS VIV N VEX ARE SO FUCKING COOL AND FUNNY... CHARLIES FLAVOR OF DERANGED IS JUST #SO PERFECT FOR THIS CAMPAIGN.. I LOVE HOW HE DOES HORROR AND EVIL AND SCARY AND AAUAUUUGHGHGUUHGHG #their teeht arnt spiked like normal vampires but theyre sharp n smooth like a Beak. in my beautiful heart #ALSO UGHGHGH BIG SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 BUT #THAT THING WITH THE MAP. WITH THE DEMONS N VAMPS. THEYRE KEEPING TRACK OF THEM.#'so viv. was that one of mine or one of yours?' IS THIS A PET PROJECT OF THEIRS OR SOMETHING. ARE THEY PULLING MORE STRINGS THAN WE THINK #IS ONE TUGGING AT THE DEMONS AND THE OTHER TUGGING AT THE FANGS? PITTING THEM AGAINST EACHOTHER SO THEY KILL EACHOTHER?#AND THEN ITS EASIER TO TAKE THE BODIES FOR THEIR FUNNY CREATIONS?? IT PROLLY WASNT EASY TO GET SUPPLIES B4 EDWARD CAME INTO POWER #BUT OH MY GOD.. POOR EMIZEL.. THE MEMORY OF HIS CREW WAS TAKEN AND THEN HE WATCHES A BUNCHA THEM GET HORRIBLY DISMATNLED N DISTORTED #HE KNOWS HE CARED FOR THEM AT SOMEPOINT N HE KNOWS THE MEMORIES WERE TAKEN BUT HE JUST. CANT. AUAUUGGUAHGUAHGUAHGUHG #THAT SUCKS SO BAD FOR HIMMM EMIZEEEELL EMIZEL CMERE BABY BOY ILL SMOKE U OUT BOY. GET AWAY FROM THOSE EVIL GUYS I AM BETTER N CAN BE TRUSTE #viv n vex are so cool...theyre fuckin CRAAZYY N SCARYYY BUT ALSO. SO FUNNY... I LOVE A PUNNY JACKASS... 'LOOKS LIKE YOUVE BEEN: DISARMED!'#'IVE MADE THAT JOKE 6 TIMES AND ITS STILL FUNNY EVERYTIME' i gotta draw more of their bullshit...#im already doodling up the 'YOU CAN CALL ME MOMMY!!' bit. i gotta draw more o the monstors n the horrors too... especially emizels sire UGH #I LOVE VILLIAINS THAT ARE SO GENUINELY SCARY BUT SO FUNNY... charlie just does evil ppl like no one else idk what it ISSSS #okayokayoka y im normal im. relistening to the ep n im at the edward part. oh my god. i actually love him. he actually makes my skin crawl #IM DONEthats my rambles for tha day. back into my hole i go. also i have comms open. cmere pspspss i need moneyyy heyyyy cmereeeee #check out my main artblog. GO!!!

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kirisclangen · 7 months ago

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Cicadashine

She/her, 132 moons, cis molly

#Cicadashine #honeyclan #elder #healer #Kirk’s clangen #warrior cats oc #clangen #kiri’s clangen #warriors oc #She’s old and her personality is cold she’s so cool #the way and shape I drew her black markings in is inspired by @clanborn and his main oc Horizonshine #I love horizon and I especially love the way Calix draw the markings a little square-looking? Almost? So I wanted to play with that #anyways their art and oc comic are super cool and have a lot of fun worldbuilding (and their group of clans are called The Bayclans!-#-how funny!) and are a large part of what inspired me to make the map in the way that I did and have multiple clans in my story so go give-#-her and her blog some love #anyways I’m just realizing now that I forgot to color in the hair tie in Cicada’s hair but I can’t be arsed to fix it so pretend it’s like-#-plant colored or matches her eyes or something idk

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nostalgia-tblr · 3 months ago

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What do English people call a close? You know, the stairwell bit where all the flats are in a tenement? If you go to visit someone at their flat, what do you call the bit where you wait for them to answer their door? That communal stairs… area?

("Modern AUs don't require research" MAYBE IF YOU'RE ENGLISH THEY DON'T 😭)

#no i can't google it that just gets me “word that mean the same as close: near; next-to; intimate” and so on #godddd it was bad enough to be reminded that they don't call juice 'juice' wasn't it #i think i should try to cut a chapter or two from my outline - at this rate when i finish 12 chapters there'll be 3 readers left for it 💀#but the POV alternates which complicates cutting whole chapters out. hrm.#...wait there's no rule that says you can only post one part at a time is there? i could do it in sets of 3 or something couldn't it?#and that way nobody's forced to wait a week or whatever for the crucial Actually They Are Scamming Each Other reveal at the start #also i am starting to rethink the 'finish it all first' approach as it turns out i hate sitting on finished chapters and just get impatient #SO WHAT IF... what if i write the first three chapters and post those and then worry about the rest of it later?#it leaves the scary chance of it staying a WIP forever but i don't think anyone's on the edge of their seats for a sylki scammer AU anyway #OKAY I'LL DO THAT (feel free to try to convince me not to tho)#wait do they even have tenements in that london #a while ago i found out my address contains an unacceptable character because tenements are mostly just a scottish thing #and i was like “oh so THAT'S why websites refuse to believe it could be a real flat number?” nae tenements ootside the central belt! wtf!#...how do you even fit flats into buildings there then? do yous just arrange them in some weird tardislike liminal space?#where do you keep the stairs then? D:#*strange hand movements as i attempt to map out this bizarre topology that is apparently normal everywhere else in the uk*

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mbat · 4 months ago

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i fr need some sort of (probably queer) friend into world of warcraft so that the person i directly talk to about it isnt my brother. cause on my life his opinions suck and his gameplay kills me a little inside

#my post #world of warcraft #my brother is obsessed with basically just running dungeons and raids and the fighting parts of the game #so much so that everytime he sees my screen he wont shut the fuck up about me changing everything #about my characters specializations and my action bars and blah blah and its like #holy fuck man take a hint. i dont want to change anything because im doing just fine how i am thanks #also he just calls everything trash except for like. death knights and demon hunters. which is such a cold take like #thats the one thing that ive seen everyone loves is those 2 things lol #i love the exploration and the worldbuilding and the cool looking races and just. augh #i mean he even told me the other day something about like. scouting maps that just uncover all the maps for me and its like #wheres the fun in that. i mean i think he was talking about if i ever got around to classic but consider: WHERES THE FUN IN THAT #dude the ENTIRE reason i want to play classic is to see how drastically different that the map is before cataclysm. entirely the exploration #ive talked a lot i just have so many thoughts and my brother is a professional irritater to say the least.#btw theres nothing wrong with liking to run the dungeons and raids like theyre a major part of the game for a reason #but thats ALL he does and he acts like its the only acceptable way to play the game. he cant stand how i play the game at all #even earlier he was asking why one of my level 70s that i was playing on was still 70 #since i have the new expansion and could easily level her to 80. my answer? i was doing whatever i wanted (collecting hunter pets)#(he didnt need to know the pets part)

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lalunanymph · 10 months ago

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ΉΣЯ & ƬΉΣ ƧΣΛ

༊ you ask rafayel how lemurians reproduce, and he can't wait to show you

✯ warnings; rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex underwater, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a dress and lingerie), mentions of alien genitalia, rafayel calls reader 'master' once, petnames (my little conch shell, my queen, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink (reader is obvs smaller than him, he's a goddamn mErmAID), OVIPOSITION, dirty talk, language, breeding, girl on top position, missionary, reader sucks his merman cock (lmao), dubious breathing underwater methods, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, slight spoilers for rafayel's myth if you squint, mild angst

✯ istg i am a zayne girlie but something about rafayel just makes me go feral

"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒?"

The question stunned Rafayel from taking a bite of his souffle pancakes, his fork pausing from its journey into his now lax mouth. Sunlight continues streaming in past the French windows; the patrons of this cafe going about their day, oblivious to the malfunctioning celebrity artist amongst them.

A glob of whip cream freefalls off the metal tines and onto his plate. Those magnetic pink-blue eyes flash with a multitude of colors—like a sea-worn rock under the brilliant sun.

However, as fast as your question hit him, he overcame it; no one could say that Mr. Rafayel, the art world's maverick and media-trained connoisseur, was slow in recovering his wits.

His signature teasing smile in place, Rafayel placed his fork back down onto the table.

Across from you, two friends were speaking in low tones and judging from their expression, unpacking their love lives with the sombreness of a priest reciting a divorce rite.

Rafayel blinked, tilting his head to the side.

"Why would you ask, Miss Bodyguard?"

He casually slung an arm over the back of his chair, a million dollar smile gleaming and ready. "Or, has something struck your most vivid imagination?"

Laying it on thick, he couldn't even begin to disguise the gleam of his teeth—shining like the incisors of a great white after smelling fresh blood in the ocean.

"I never thought you would be so sugges—ouch!"

Rafayel winced, and doubled over, rubbing his shin under the table. "What was that for?"

You huffed, and fixed him a glare. "Don't embarrass me."

"I was just joking."

"Wasn't funny."

"Yeesh. You're really wound up about this, huh?"

That infuriating smirk was plastered back onto his face; his boyish features making something in your chest squeeze.

"Shut up and answer the question."

He pretended to ponder on it for a moment. More color illuminates his stunning amethyst irises. Shining like jewels, only he knew the value of his true thoughts.

Before you could retract your question and salvage this bright afternoon, Rafayel surprises you with his next words.

"Why don't I show you, my little conch shell?"

You freeze. Scanning the area, you wondered if this was the right conversation to be having in such a brightly lit area. Granted, you and Rafayel were past the carnal stage —after being together for close to a year, your bodies were well-worn maps that lips and fingers could retrace and discover any time.

Fighting back a laugh, you shake your head.

"Is this another one of your racy propositions again?"

Rafayel merely smirked. "If that is how you wish to see it."

Seriously now, you counter, "Will I have paint in my hair again?"

Memories flash in your mind; of a large canvas, soft candlelight, and streaks of paint on the most random parts of your body found weeks after the deed was done.

Your lover sits back, using one slender finger to cross over his heart. "I promise your hair won't go through such torment anymore." Despite your best efforts, your eyes trail to his broad chest, and the enticing V of his defined pecs.

As if sensing your eyes on him, Rafayel's mirth grows. "Looks like you can't resist much longer, I'll make you a deal—"

He leaned in close—much too close—and you could smell the vanilla on his breath; the sunlight glinting off those purple irises softening with a look of warmth only he held for you.

"—come with me tonight to Whitesand Bay, and I promise you won't regret it."

Muggy and balmy in the evening, Whitesand Bay wasn't exactly the ideal meet up spot for Rafayel to finally fulfill his promise and show you how mermaids reproduce.

But, you showed up anyway.

Dressed in a light, silk dress to combat the heavy heat of the summer night, you cautiously made your way down to the docks, keeping your eyes and ears peeled for Rafayel.

"You're here." He appeared a moment later, dashing as usual in his white button-down and pristine slacks. Dazzling under the half-light, you allowed him to take your hand and lead you right to a boat.

"We're not going for a to take a deep dive like last time, right?" Hearing the skepticism in your voice, he laughs.

"Of course, not. I paid Thomas a huge bonus last month and told him to buy a speedboat. For us to borrow, if you're curious."

"Poor Thomas," you mused, letting him hold you close to his side as he helped you atop the board. "His boss is a tyrant... asking him to use his bonus for such lavish nonsense."

"Is it really a lavish nonsense if I get to have you here?"

Rafayel's sincerity struck you mute. He breezed past your shocked figure, unaware of the effect he has on you. "Well? Are you going to continue mocking my methods of employment or are we going to do this?"

Even though his chest was puffed and voice full of bravado, you could tell your sweet artist boyfriend was struggling with his nerves. The tips of his ears were bright red, a faint shadow of a pout on his lips.

"Raffie," you whisper, taking his hand. He glanced at you, wide-eyed like a fish caught on the bait. "What're you so scared of? It's just you and me."

He lets you rub your thumb across his knuckles, tightening your hold on his fingers.

"I just..." he trails off. "... just don't want you to think I'm a freak. That's all."

Rafayel refused to look at you when he was this vulnerable, and you couldn't help the short giggle bursting past your defenses. He glared, and you quickly reached for his face, touching his cheek.

"Never," you emphasize. "I will never think you're weird. Ever. Besides, if you're a freak then I'm the weirdo in love with you."

Your dopey grin sets something aflutter in his chest, like ripples of ocean waves splashing across a strange shore. Rafayel smirks and takes your hand off his face, choosing to twine his fingers with yours.

"Shall we make a move, then, my little conch shell?"

"Rafayel..."

The sight before you stuns you with its splendor. Your beloved boyfriend had gone all out—picnic blankets, lighted candles, flutes of champagne, and spreads of seafood as far as the eye could see... arranged all across the flatbed of this hidden alcove where the sea kisses the land.

In the distance, the gentle swishes of waves lapping at the shore greeted your ears, its waves illuminated faintly as if lit from within.

"Bioluminescent algae," Rafayel murmurs right behind you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, the heat of his breath fanning right across your exposed neck. "They only appear in the summer when the water is warm." You fight back a shiver, trying not to show how affected you were by his presence.

"Oh." Dumbly, you weren't sure how to put your thoughts together, much less a coherent sentence.

Sensing your speechlessness, Rafayel exhaled a laugh. "Come on. We should eat before the food gets cold."

There's a dip in his tone, something tinged with a darker emotion you barely had time to unravel before he was tugging you onto the picnic mat. The food was divine, his personal chefs going all out to satisfy both of your palettes. Conversation flowed easily like the champagne slipping down your throat, coaxing you to release the tightness in your chest in favor of bubbly giggles and flirty smiles.

Rafayel's cheeks were steadily growing pinker, and you were sure he would double over and pass out—forgetting about your brazen question—when you felt his hand on your thigh.

"Would you like to take a swim with me?"

Memories of seaweed brushing your bare legs, Rafayel’s arms steadily around your waist as he led you past the shoreline fills your mind. Anything cool sounded like a blessing from this heat.

Plus, he was a pretty good swimmer, as evident from what he truly was. Rafayel would never put you in harm’s way.

Safe. That was the word. You always feel safe with him.

“Yes.”

He takes your hand, gives it a squeeze and helps you stand.

Rafayel started to undress first. The hem of his expensive silk shirt reveals the fitted band of his equally expensive slacks—made by the best tailors in all of Linkon. Then, pale skin. It stretches, tightens over defined obliques, abs and then his impressively broad chest.

Scattered across the sinew and muscle roping his torso were smatterings of moles and beauty marks.

Someone once told you that these marks were spots past lovers used to love kissing. You idly trace your gaze over the one on his left pec, right over his heart.

If Rafayel and you had been together in the past, you were sure that the spot over his heart would be your favorite spot to plant your lips on him.

As furtively as you could, you tried not to gape at him, but completely failed.

Rafayel was a masterpiece made by the gods themselves, and you were the poor fool gaping at his altar; transfixed on the sharp V which led to a light dusting of his happy trail.

His cock strains behind his slacks, bulging noticeably. You want to reach out and skim your fingers, eager to feel it twitch under your touch.

"Well?" His gentle amusement tore your thoughts from their sinful vices. "Are you gonna just stare at me or are we going for a swim? Your pick, Miss Bodyguard."

Showing that you were far braver than you felt, you stood up, shaky hands reaching for the straps of your dress. "Don't look at me."

A surge of heat flooded your cheeks, your eyes resolutely turned to the side. Obediently, Rafayel followed your orders, though you could hear the cogs turning in his head. It's not like I haven't seen her naked before.

But, this wasn’t the usual plotting, teasing and flirting you both would indulge in.

Something about the air tonight felt heavier.

Intimate.

You swore Rafayel could pick up your heartbeat from where he stood. The heat on your cheeks spread down your chest, tingling on your fingertips.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

In nothing but in your lingerie, you shift from foot to foot, feeling too vulnerable and open.

The sky above yawns wide, inky black jaws lovingly unfurling like a spread of velvet sheets. His hand is warm in yours, and you squeeze it, trying to hide how you were trembling.

“Hey.” Rafayel sweeps you into his arms. Try as you might to fight off the nerves, they bubble up in a short squeak when your face meets his chest. “Relax, baby. You’re shaking like a bubble in the sun… don’t pop just yet.”

You find comfort in his scent—oceanic and musky—breathing him in.

Do you trust me? Rafayel once asked when you both were drunk on a night out.

Of course, I do. You flick his nose. Why wouldn’t I trust you?

Even if I’m different? He fixes you with a look, lucid for someone who had just downed an entire champagne bottle. And I can’t be normal for you?

Especially because you aren’t normal in the sense of its word… I trust you even more because you trusted me, first.

Waves lap at your toes, and you shiver at how cool the water is.

“Easy,” Rafayel coaxes you. He takes the lead, sinking into the soft sand first, never releasing his hold on you.

You do as he says, a sailor to his siren call, except you knew in your heart you would willingly follow him till the ends of the world.

Once the water was up to your waist, Rafayel exhaled. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

You don't have time to protest when he dives into the waves, barely kicking up a spray. Eyeing the softly luminated sea surface, you dip your fingers into the warm water, watching a blue orb float in between your loose fists.

“Hey.”

Startling, you look up to find him grinning, lilac hair darkened with salt water; holding a bundle of what you thought was tangled hair in his grasp.

“I know you hate the taste of seaweed, but this’ll help when we… get into things.”

He ends in an awkward note, and you wondered what happened to the once cocky, and sure Rafayel you knew.

Unfurling his clenched fist, he hands you one single strand. “Eat this. It’ll help you breathe underwater temporarily.”

“What is it?” you sniff at the strange vegetation.

“Hydroweed. It gives humans the ability to breathe underwater for up to an hour.”

Putting your faith in his words, you nod. Opening your mouth, you bite into the Hydroweed.

The briny taste was overwhelming, its tough fibers making it difficult for you to chew. But, you manage to swallow it down.

Instantly, you felt your throat closing, the air choked out of your lungs. “Rafayel—!”

Strong hands grab your waist, dragging you under the foamy waves.

You gasp, about to scream at him to let you go, when you took in your first deep breath underwater.

The world suddenly came to life. Bright blue orbs floated right in front of your face, and you reached for them, in awe at how vivid they glowed now you could see them up close.

Down in the depths, the waves became hushed murmurs in the background, filling your ears with a ringing silence.

“Are you okay?” Rafayel’s voice shot through the floating calm like a shout, and you cringed back in shock.

“Sorry,” he laughs, and pulls you to his side. “It’s way quieter down here than up above because sound travels differently. Strange, huh?”

You nod, not entirely sure if you could use your voice. As if he read your thoughts, Rafayel chuckles.

“Go ahead and speak, my little conch shell. I can hear you just fine.”

You take a deep breath. “O-okay.” Growing confident and more comfortable, you relax in his embrace. “It feels… strange. Like you said. But, at the same time, I don’t entirely hate it.”

“Mhm,” he rubs your back, smiling reassuringly and wide. “If there are other Lemurians within a few miles, they can most likely hear you scream.”

His double meaning didn’t register until you felt his palms tracing your hips, teasing down your body to give your ass a fond squeeze.

“Hey—!”

You swat his hands away, mute with embarrassment. “I-is that why you all live so deep in the sea? For privacy?”

Rafayel hums. It’s a little off putting how clear his voice sounds, like you were listening to him through a pair of high-grade earphones.

“Usually, Lemurians mate deep in the trenches where the light can’t find us. It helps to keep things more private and intimate. If not, we travel to other seas uninhabited by our species. I used to know a guy who dragged his wife to the middle of the Atlantic when they were trying for a family.”

Rafayel’s focus ebbs into the distance, a tinge of sadness in his tone that appears whenever he speaks of his long lost people and home.

You take his hands in yours and squeeze, trying to draw him back from the precipice of his ruined memories.

“We could try…” you trail off, unsure if this was the right thing to say. “...to repopulate it?”

Like your words were a trigger, you found yourself planted right on the ocean floor, soft sand cushioning your body.

You squeak, quickly darting your eyes to his, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders.

Rafayel’s usual glimmering pink-blue eyes were shadowed by a darker emotion; reminding you of glinting shark teeth or a blade of moonlight slicing through choppy water.

“Don’t say that, baby.” Was it you, or did his voice drop an octave?

Your Lemurian lover’s low reprimand made a shudder run down your spine, his half-mast eyes causing your stomach to flip.

“You don’t know how those words make me feel… my kind used to reproduce by the dozens—I can’t wait to see you bulging with my babies.”

Wait… babies?

With a capital ‘S’?

His mouth lands on yours, hungry and seeking. You kiss him back with as much ardor, lost in the sensations that you almost forgot what he had said earlier.

“Raf… Rafayel—” you gasp when he starts to dig his teeth into your neck, nipping down your jaw and collarbone.

Deft hands unclip your bra, the motion fluid like he has done this a million times before. From the corner of your eye, you see every article of clothing he took off you floating right to the surface; moonlight bouncing off the fragmented surface, playing across the broad expanse of his back.

Your head swims with fuzzy thoughts long discarded when he pushes the plush fat of your tits together, licking and nipping around your areolas, ignoring how your nipples were already circling with need.

“Raffie…” You fist his hair, trying to push his mouth to where you need him the most. “Don’t tease me.”

He laughs at your soft whine. “I need to make sure you’re prepared, my love.”

My love. Rafayel only called you that term whenever he was in the thick of his passion; it seems like you were about to witness the cumulation of your innocent question coming true.

Strong hands held you firmly while he eased down your body, planting fleeting kisses on every inch of your skin his lips could touch.

Down in the deep, gasps and screams weren’t sounds, but vibrations; the sounds escaping your mouth resounding around your entwined bodies.

“Fuck,” Rafayel cussed once he reached the apex of your thighs. “I can’t wait to finally taste you underwater.”

Barely giving you time to brace yourself, the broad stroke of his tongue melted through your folds.

Never would you have imagined you would be eaten out right on the ocean’s bed—going deeper and deeper into the neverending blue.

Rafayel’s lips were wrapped around your nub, sucking and caressing it with his tongue exactly how you liked it. Your smaller fingers sank into his hair, the other entwining with his own above your heart; back arched to give him everything you have.

“S’good,” he murmurs, verging on the edge of slurring. “I love you.”

His name tumbles from your mouth like a primal echo, calling him right to the edge of a bottomless trench.

Rafayel wasn’t afraid; he would traverse the deep beyond for as many chances to be with you as he could.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he whispers in between sloppy kisses back up your body.

If someone were to tell you that your sweet boyfriend was literally making love to you on the bottom of the ocean, you would tell them a Wanderer had infected their mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his body emanating a faint glow. A distant memory claws past the thin membrane of your barely held together thoughts; moonlight bouncing off pink-blue scales, his unbearable body heat and a pearly sheen misting his eyes.

“Rafayel—”

The change was imperceptible. At first, you couldn’t feel anything but the sinful sinking of his cock stretching out your cunt.

Then, it hit you like a freight train.

His waist felt like it was expanding, pushing your thighs further apart. But, when you glanced down the line of your bodies, the length of his legs was replaced by something longer. Bigger. It distinctly had two fins attached to the end, bent at an angle to accommodate the position he was fucking you in.

“R-Rafayel—!”

“Fuck,” he strains, lining his forehead with yours. “I-I’m scared of hurting you.”

“N-no,” you force your thick tongue to relinquish the words. “You'll never.”

His skin grew harder under your touch, inches of pale expanses replaced by shiny scales. Minus his face, his limbs, back, chest and torso were completely covered by the armor-like toughness of multiple hardened plates. Where the scales couldn’t touch, they were bonded together by thin layers of lamella, giving his entire body an otherworldly sheen.

Mesmerized, you titled his face towards you, marveling at the scattering of scales adorning his throat and jaw.

“Wow,” you murmur, touching them. They weren’t as hard or sharp as you imagined; his scales had a delightful give you couldn't stop pressing down on.

In response, Rafayel grunts. “Baby… It’s happening.”

You were about to part your mouth and ask him what was, when your eyes shot wide open.

The place where you both were connected suddenly grew tighter, as if something was pushing against your insides. Your muscles instinctively tried to expel the foreign intrusion, tensing and tightening—it was a shot of fear unlike any other you had ever tasted.

Panicking, you cried out, “Rafayel, stop!”

Immediately, he ceased rutting into you, breathing heavily. Anguished, pastel eyes peel clapped onto yours, a pearly sheen filming over them.

“Shit… shit, I’m so sorry…”

“What’s happening?” you blurt out, a tremble of fear in your question. “Are you… are you putting e-eggs in me?”

“Eggs?” he sounds bewildered, and that causes you to be perplexed in turn. Breathing hard, Rafayel’s forehead thumps onto your sternum. He doesn’t refute you or confirm your suspicions. Instead, he takes in a deep, ragged breath, like he was trying to tame down a cresting emotion. “Did you actually think, for a single second, that I was going to leave eggs in you?”

Before you can even speak, his broad shoulders start to shake. Rafayel’s quiet laughter roused your confusion and indignation; your brows furrowing together because he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“Shut up,” it was your turn to be the whiner in this relationship. “You’re mean. It’s a valid question!”

“Oh, baby,” he wheezes. One second, he was laughing, and the next, he lapsed into a quiet seriousness, the sudden mood change giving you whiplash. “I would never hurt you like that, my love. Trust me.”

Gently grasping your hand with his, he slips it down both your bodies, right to where you two were connected. “What I meant to show you, my little conch shell, is this.”

He brings your hand between your own legs. You thought he was going to make you touch yourself, but when you feel something hard and distinctively not flesh-like bump your hand, you flinch back.

“Ssh, don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “Go on and take a look, my love.”

Again with my love.

Rafayel was either struck with nerves, or he was completely enamored with you at this moment.

You licked your lips, tasting salt water on them and cautiously stretched your fingers to feel the strange object up. It was long and girthy, like a penis, except it wasn’t.

Steeling yourself, you risk a peek.

Gone was the smooth, veiny skin of Rafayel’s cock. His human one.

In its place, was a thick length, riddled with ridges and bumps like an octopus’ tentacle. His very human appendage was always a stunner—slender (like his physique), veiny, with a hooked tip—but the sight before you (that strange and downright alien sight) blew your expectations out of the water.

Your gasp reverberated around the pressing silence. Rafayel was quiet, waiting for you to speak. In turn, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his new genitalia.

“Is that…” you struggle to piece together a coherent question. “Is that all… going inside of me?”

Rafayel grunts. “Unless you don’t want me to, sweetheart.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, staring past the crest of his shoulder towards the shimmering, seemingly impenetrable ceiling of a world beyond the bubble you both created.

“I do,” you finally whisper, your confession rippling around the both of you, suspending your forms in an endless wave of mutual ecstasy. “I want this. I want you.”

Rafayel doesn’t bother to waste his time replying. You brace yourself, heels digging into his hips, clinging onto him with all of your strength.

The first breach of his otherworldly cock inside of you felt like a touch of electricity up your spine. You cried out, nails digging into his scaly shoulders.

“Relax,” he paces you through the sensations. “I need you to relax for me, my love. I can’t get in if you’re this tight.”

You gulp in a few deep breaths with your eyes screwed shut, and eventually, your heartbeat slows down. Sluggishly cracking your lids open, you catch the gleam in his pink-blue irises; locks of his iridescent hair floating around his serene expression.

The strange sensation was back, easing past your ring of muscle. You choke on a moan, trying to swallow your fear.

“Ssh,” Rafayel murmurs. To distract you, he leaves feathery kisses on your cheeks, jaw and then, your lips.

If the bottom of the ocean wasn’t enough to drown you, his kiss would.

Rafayel… you whisper into the water.

His name was a prayer dedicated to the Sea Gods on your tongue, your body sprawled out beyond your comprehension. Every line of you was taut with tension, the achingly slow stretch of his appendage plunging deeper and deeper into your heat had your head spinning like a whirlpool was threatening to suck you in.

“Almost,” his harsh whisper clashes with your breath. “So good for me; you’re doing so good for me, my love.”

“Rafayel,” you mewled, the sea taking your tears. Hiccuping his name, you shudder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Your fist clamped down on soft sand, your back arched, and finally—finally—you felt his hips clipping yours.

“Fuck.”

The both of you groan in unison.

His kisses were still warm, flush on your parted lips. Rafayel shunted his hips forward, then back. Repeating the same motion.

Again. Again. And again.

The sensation was unlike any other you had felt in this world. No cock could possibly compare to the ridges wrapped around his length, the blunt, elongated tip almost touching the deepest part of your body.

“Rafayel,” you cried in a thick voice, like your mouth was filled with cotton. “Oh, God…”

Your tits flushed to his chest, your fingers in his hair and his tongue twining with yours shook your inner world like a deep sea earthquake.

This wasn’t like your usual lovemaking sessions; everything was amplified, more sensitive and tangible.

God, was it all so tangible.

You could physically feel every scaly ridge under your fingertips. His modified cock dragging those ecstasy-inducing bumps across your walls. Even his taste was different underwater; like a briny, primal flavor which coated your tongue.

“Y/N,” his moan more angelic than what you could handle. “I love you. I love you so, so much—”

Rafayel choked, and you didn’t need to ask to know he was about to cum.

The ecstasy of it all wrapped its tendrils around both your embracing bodies; a human and Lemurian entangled in a dance as old as time.

“I love you,” you cry out, toes curling and your nails raking down his back. Rafayel grunts, and in the dim half-light of the ocean engulfing you, you swore you saw his frantic eyes shine like precious pearls.

The world was closing in, darkness seeping into the corners of your vision.

You pushed on his shoulder, trying to get his attention; acutely aware that the ache in your lungs wasn’t because of his kisses, but of something else.

Something out of your control.

The call of the surface burned through your lungs, and you opened your mouth, about to scream for him to let you go, when it all slammed into you like a tidal wave.

Darkness exploded, splattering across your mind, and you heard his cry of your name, the sound now echoey and muggy.

There was movement. A sharp tug. What sounded like wind whistling through your ears.

Through your snatches of consciousness, you were aware of the pushback both your bodies weathered through the wall of water; how the ocean was trying to hold you back.

As soon as the sensation appeared, it was shattered by a golden burst of fresh oxygen.

Gulping in mouthfuls of air, you yelled out in fright, blindly grappling across the writhing dark mess of endless ocean surrounding you.

Rafayel! Rafayel!

You felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you in his embrace like how a father would cradle his child.

Close your eyes, you thought you heard him murmur in your ear. And don’t open them until I tell you it’s safe to.

Arms clamped around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, your intrinsic fear of the ocean made you trust his word.

Gently now, you were bobbing across the water, the cool currents rushing across your bare skin. It felt like gelatinous cold drafts constantly hitting every body part. Staying true to his promise, you kept your eyes shut until you felt rough sand on your back; the waves receding from your body to lap at your toes.

Gasping, you peel your eyes open, lid by lid.

The alcove where he took you tonight was back in front of you.

Rolling onto your front, you tried to stand, but only succeeded in stumbling back onto the sand; losing your sense of balance from countless minutes spent suspended in the ocean's mass.

“Hey, hey. Easy there.”

Rafayel was still in his Lemurian form, and this time, under the dim, flickering lights of the bay’s lanterns, you were stunned into an awe-inspiring disquiet.

The flickering warmth casted shadows over his iridescent scales, those once tough and gray plates under the ocean’s darkness glowing from the inside out with a pink-blue flame.

Half of his tail was still submerged in the water, and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze across the stunning length.

Easily a few feet long, you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around the mental image of how majestic his entire Lemurian form would look underwater. It was just too bad the Hydroweed’s effects were over before you could even get to the good part.

Your thighs were chafing, drawing attention to your gapingly empty cunt.

Pulling yourself to your knees, you came chest to chest with him.

Rafayel’s saltwater soaked fingers grasped your cheeks, titling it up to inspect you.

Trickles of water seeped down his face, darkening the sand with droplets of wetness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fraught and remorseful. “I lost track of time. I could’ve seriously injured you.”

“It’s okay.” The both of you flinched back from how hoarse your voice sounded. Clearing your throat, you struggled to put your mushy thoughts into words. “I… enjoyed it.”

Rafayel dropped his hands, his breathing growing ragged. “I should get back to normal—”

“No!”

You stunned him with your vehemence, scrambling to grip his shoulders, clapping your crazed eyes onto his widened ones.

You’re acting like a mad woman.

But, he didn’t say that to you. Rafayel grasped your hands, drawing them to his chest, pouring every drop of attention onto you.

“I want to… try it… here.”

You pieced together your incoherent request, and a part of you wondered—dreaded—if you had already lost your mind from the lack of oxygen and crushing deep sea pressure.

Rafayel stared at you for a moment, unspeaking.

Then, he gently dragged you closer. Before you could even squeak, he had you straddling his waist.

This time, it was your turn to peer down at him, curtains of your wet hair framing your face.

“Take me, then,” his voice was equally as hoarse as yours, though you suspected it wasn’t from ingesting enough saltwater to fill up your lungs. Trembling fingers touched your face, smoothing across your cheeks. “I’m all yours. I’ve been bound to you since the very beginning. You can take me, I won’t fight back. I told you I wouldn’t that night, don’t you remember? I’m keeping my word now.”

Something about the longing in his tone, how those pink-blue eyes yearned to swim in your soul, brought a lump to your throat.

“Rafayel…”

Strong hands helped to guide your hips over his cock, easing you down with quiet praises and encouragement.

So good for me, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well. Wish I could paint this moment—you look so pretty. All for me. My love. My love.

“R-Rafayel!” Thin red lines bloomed on his chest from your nails, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Without the sea’s buoyancy to support you, gravity took over, easing you down his bulbous cock.

Rafayel’s thumb circles your clit, rubbing it gently, soothingly, to get you wetter.

Your body felt like it was about to split cleanly into two—he was much too big for you.

“C-can’t!” you whisper-cried. “I can’t take all of you—ngh.”

His mouth found your nipples, licking and sucking along the fleshy nubs until they were coated with his spit and tightening obscenely; an erotic outline lit by the bay's dim lantern lights.

“You can,” he mumbled in between your breasts. “I know you can.”

The rough strip of his tongue slid from your sternum towards your neck, pausing right at your pulse point. Sharp bites bloomed on your neck from his teeth, and you shiver from the throbbing pain going straight to your clit.

That strange, heightening sensation was back. You felt much too sensitive, like a lightning rod trembling from an impending electrical storm.

One touch could’ve made you explode.

Rafayel brought your lips to his, tangling his tongue down your throat; stoppering your cries.

Warm, smooth, distinctively human palms caressed your hips and thighs.

Almost in, baby, he whispers in between kisses. I can feel every inch of you.

You flit your eyes to where both your bodies meet, in mute shock from how deep he already was in you.

“You like it, baby?” he breathes warmly on your jaw. “Like watching yourself sit on my cock?”

Fuck. Stop teasing me, you want to whine. But, the words won’t slip past your clenched teeth.

His name bounces across the soft sand, the wind picking up and making you shiver.

The warm glow of the lanterns spill across his sharp cheekbones, planes of his jaw. You’ve never seen someone look this beautiful under a hazy night sky before.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” you feel him murmur against your lips. “Say the word, baby. We’ll stop.”

You’re panting now, trying hard not to break your progress and having to start over. Rafayel was about halfway inside, and you forced your body to push and receive.

Guh, you gasp, tossing your head back.

“Love seeing you stretch yourself out on my cock, baby,” Rafayel mutters hoarsely—passionately.

The implicit meaning in his words is clear: I love how you give yourself so willingly to me.

For Rafayel, you would do this ten times over until your body memorizes him. Willing your cunt to make a home for his monster cock even if it would break your spine.

“Almost,” he reassures in a low groan. “You feel s’good baby.”

He’s sweating as well, bullets of exertion not to break his composure and fuck into you mingling with the last of the seawater droplets rolling down his temples.

Rafayel, Rafayel, you whimper his name over and over. Oh God…

Something bubbles inside of you, thick and hot. You think you’re about to spill over, thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up.

Your lover groans, low and lusty, his eyes trapped right in between your legs. “You’re so wet—look. Your little pussy loves me, baby.”

You glance to where he’s telling you to look, and nearly pass out from the embarrassment.

Thick, pearly droplets are oozing down his merman length, and you would’ve thought it was from him had you not felt your walls start to twitch—more wetness gushing and trickling down to stain his pelvis.

The added lubrication made it easy enough for you to bottom out on his cock, and both your mutual cries of ecstasy reverberated into the dark night.

Shit, shit. Too big. You’re too big for me.

“You can take it,” he mouths your earlobe, kissing down your cheek. “Doing so well for me.”

Your breathing trembles, like a question hanging in thin air. Can you fuck me now?

Rafayel scoffs and bumps his nose with yours gently. “Always making me do the hard work. You really are my spoiled, pretty princess, aren’t you? Or…” his voice drops, the heat in his eyes almost scorching you. “Do you want to be my good girl?”

You gasp: I do. I want to be your good girl.

He hisses when you start to shift your hips, the motion making your clit catch on his pelvis. You mewl, leaning forward to repeat the same motion; trying to chase after that spark of pleasure over and over again.

Those big, smooth palms cradle your face, pushing your hair back.

Rafayel’s jaw is tense, like he’s biting down on some inner demon you can’t see.

That’s it. That’s my good girl.

Your nails leave white crescent moons on his pale shoulders as you ride him, every bump and ridge of his cock brushing your sweet spot. He was so deep in you, almost plunging right past your cervix.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

An arm sweeps you right to his chest, your cheek pressed atop his heartbeat. Rafayel thrusts his hips up, meeting your sensual grinding.

Spit pools in the back of your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as you let your Lemurian lover have his way with you. You part your mouth, mellifluous moans touching the air and turning it golden to his reddened ears.

I love you. His whispers against your throat, the sting of his teeth soothed by the sweetness of his praise and adoration. I love you so much, my good girl.

“You fuck me so good,” the words tumble from your split mouth, recklessly thoughtful. “No one can fuck me like you.”

Yeah, he pants, mouthing your pulse point. Cream on this cock, baby. It’s all yours. His hands span across your lower back, traversing down to grip your ass and spreading you wider for him.

Give me everything you’ve got, Princess.

His cock plunges so deep inside of you, and you were sure that if he came right now, he might’ve knocked you up in one try.

All yours. Rafayel was all yours.

You lean up, arms resting on either side of his head as the sand bites into your skin.

Rafayel thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. He watches, mesmerized, as your tits sway right in front of his face. You’re fucking him now, meeting each fluid thrust he had to give; bouncing on his lap like you were riding out a desperate heat.

His thighs tense, and he feels your pussy clench down on him.

Fuck, you stutter, and so do your hips. I’m close.

He squeezes your ass, smacks it with both palms.

Your breathing catches, and you ride him even harder. Faster.

“Fuck,” those pretty eyes were hooded, latched on your bouncing tits and stiff nipples. “Look so good fucking me—you love using me, don’t you, Master?”

You gasp, and Rafayel feels your composure slip when you squeeze down on him. He almost cums right there and then. But, he fights it off, needing to see you lose control first.

The sight of your stickiness frothing at the base of his cock nearly makes him white out in pleasure, getting messier with every stroke of his non-human cock.

He’s never had a human before in his Lemurian form, but it’s something straight out of a wild, wet dream.

Your skin was so, so soft in comparison to his hard scales that he’s almost afraid of hurting you with them.

But, you prove you’re made of tougher stuff when you lean back, bracing both hands on the girth of his tail.

Showing off your puffy pussy and glistening hole taking every inch of him like it was made for this and only for this purpose.

He feels himself drowning in you. No one has ever taken him this deep. His mouth falls open, a low grunt touching your hot ears. Good girl… good fucking girl. His praises make you warm all over. You would do anything and everything to earn his devotion. But, Rafayel doesn’t make you do it—he gives it to you freely. One large hand smoothed over your belly, your tits, pinching your nipples and smirking inwardly when you gasp and groan.

Breathy whimpers resound, his thumb on your clit rubbing out full body shudders. The sky above spins, like he’s being sucked into and about to be spat out of a whirlpool.

His eyes bounce from the softness of your belly, your tits jiggling, and then back down to your pretty pussy taking all of him in.

“Like what you see?”

Rafayel flits his gaze back up. Your eyes were two pools of smoldering heat, about to burn him alive.

You grab his wandering hand, pressing it right over your stomach. “I can feel you here.” He twitches, and you gasp. “So, so deep.”

Sloppy sounds of your bodies meeting; you were so, so wet and perfect. Your pussy was gushing, fighting between squeezing him out or sucking him in.

I’m gonna cum, baby, he grunts. The vein in his neck tightens, and your whimper almost sets him off.

Gonna cum so deep inside of you. Make you so round and perfect with my babies. You’re my Queen, aren’t you? My love. I’ll love you until the seas dry up. You’re mine forever.

It’s that tinge of possessiveness which does you under. You were putty to his deep, gravelly voice; those words of unending devotion and sin.

His thick, dark lashes flutter, those pretty eyes rolling back into his head.

Fuck, baby. He grabs onto your hips, looking for something to steady him. “I need you… I’m gonna cum,” he whines, and it’s pathetic really—how much you’ve affected him.

If he was a lesser man, Rafayel might’ve called you his weakness. But, you were more than that.

You were the reason he woke up in the mornings. The reason he relentlessly pursued the passages of time and space to find you; you were the muse to his madness.

“Do it for me, baby,” you pant, and fall back into his arms. Chest to chest, lips to lips, every breath you took was exhaled by his own. “Cum for me.”

Make me yours forever, Rafayel.

The world goes white, and your pussy quivers around him, an ending opera note suspended in mid-air.

It comes crashing down, slo-mo turned to a normal pace when time rushes back to engulf your sluggish shore.

His cum fills you up, thicker and running hotter than a human’s. It felt strange; pulsating inside of you, glob after glob. Your pussy shudders and breaks, physical and emotional walls all torn down for him; voice hoarse and edged with mania. Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel…

You mumble his name like a prayer while he drags your lips to his, kissing you like an oath.

He feels you shudder around him, growing weaker like a kitten. It would be so easy for him to pierce your neck with his teeth, cut through your jugular with his scales.

But, Rafayel tames his primal, oceanic urge to destroy, reining it back in favor of nosing your hair.

“Felt so good,” he mumbles tiredly. “Are you okay, my little conch shell?”

You hum, shift your hips. The bulbous head of his cock brushes the opening of your cervix. “I can’t believe I took you so deep.” You drift off and in a few minutes, feel him go from soft to half-hard in you again.

“Are you still turned on, baby?” you ask innocently, voice soft and frayed with exhaustion. Rafayel swivels his face away, trying to hide his red ears.

“N-no.”

You huff a laugh, using all the strength in your jelly-like limbs to sit up. Something catches your attention, and in the corner of your eye, you pick up the dark strands, fisting it close to your mouth.

Rafayel watches, unsure what you’re intending to do. He sits up, squints, and almost gasps.

That’s enough Hydroweed for you to last a night under the ocean.

He’s about to stop you, when you ingest it all in one go.

The second you convulse, he pushes you back into the ocean, your gasp of relief second to only his bruising kiss completely devouring your mouth.

Your legs wrap around his waist, and your back meets the ocean floor again. This time, you take the lead, rolling him off to straddle his waist again.

Rafayel glances at you, gorgeous pastel eyes hooded.

He notices how comfortable you’re getting underwater; how easy it is for you to scoot down his torso, your playful smirk making his cock and heartstrings throb.

“Baby—” he mumbles, only to be cut off by the sight of you kissing his bulbous tip.

Rafayel isn’t a believer of god per say (coming from his own experience as a retired sea deity), but at the sight of your pretty lips skimming his merman tip, he thinks he could give religion another shot.

What’re you doing? His whisper carries across the currents.

Ssh, you hush him, rimming the tip of your tongue around his flushed head. You don’t miss how his tail twitches, cock now painfully at full mast.

Isn’t it obvious? You mumble, kissing the tip reverently. I want to taste my Lemurian's pretty cock.

He seizes, back arching, putty in your hands when you take him down as deep as your little throat allows.

What else you couldn’t fit, you used your hands to jack up and down.

Soft hisses slip past his clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.”

Mhm, you slur, flickering your hazy, fucked out gaze to his flushed face. Tastes so good, you whisper, and Rafayel was glad the ocean didn’t show the line of drool that usually trickles down your jaw; your fucked out expression which would make his control snap instantly.

You would need to consume at least three more mouthfuls of Hydroweed before he was fully done with you.

Luckily, Thomas’ yacht came with some fluffy towels.

Rafayel had wrapped you in one while he laid the other under your back; content to curl his tail around you, still in his Lemurian form. The honeywood deck was warm to the touch, the balmy evening offering comfort and respite from hours underneath the cold, dark ocean.

“So…” he quips, not one for stewing in silence. “Questions? Thoughts? Comments?”

You fight back a smile.

“Was there really eggs put up inside of me? Swore I felt a lot of round and hard things sloshing inside.”

“That… would be my tip.” Rafayel flicks your nose when you scoff. “On a scale of one to ten, how freaked out would you be if I said I did actually put some eggs up in your body and it had to be fertilized so the rest would start falling out of you like gelatinous goo until the only one takes?”

You blink. “Pretty freaked out, if I’m being honest.”

“So… a nine?”

“More like—” you lifted your hand and made a so-so motion. “—a six, at best. I’m kinda used to your bullshit by now, babe.”

“Hey!” Rafayel tugs on the ends of your hair, making you laugh. Growing serious now, he murmurs, “So, you’re absolutely fine with being knocked up with a half-Lemurian kid?”

“Depends,” you mumble mildly. “Am I the first one you’re doing this with?”

Barely missing a beat, he nodded. “The only one. Never had time to sleep around. Always busy running a kingdom. Blah-blah. Typical God of the Sea stuff. No biggie.”

“Aw,” you coo, “I’m so honored you waited for me.”

You expected him to scoff or roll his eyes, not lapse into a serious quietness. Rafayel’s silence stretched on, and you perched your jaw on his shoulder.

“Hey. Penny for your thoughts?”

“Hmm.” Rafayel tugs you closer, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his cheek. His lips are inches apart from yours, warm breath touching your parted mouth. You taste him on your tongue, invigorating yet comforting.

A well-worn sign of home.

“Just that I would do it all over again. Wait for you, I mean. Even if it takes a long, long time.”

A few centimeters and 800 years stand between the two of you.

But, for tonight, you breach the distance and kiss him, grateful that you had been given this cherished memory together with Rafayel.

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.

#rafayel smut #love and deepspace smut #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel x y/n #love and deepspace #mdni banner by me #seashell divider by @/ roseraris #🦢 writes

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ifonlyyuweremine · 3 months ago

Text

Captain’s Girl. [Part I]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

Synopsis: After Laswell pitches you a favor to join 141, you're left with no choice but to accept. The only problem arises when you and the Captain start to butt heads, but if the two of you hate each other as much as you say, then why is the rest of the team calling you his girl?

Tags: Enemies to lovers, tension, military romance, forbidden love, smut, fighting, secret feelings, slow burn.

Word count? You know the drill, it’s long.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

‘Captain John Price.’ You skimmed the document again, his name catching your eye for the third or fourth time. The black ink seemed to bleed together against the crisp paper of your enrollment documents into Special Forces Task Force 141. It was a promotion, and an honor at that, special forces to begin with were selective.

But 141 was almost unheard of, a combination of British special forces and American special forces. They were one of the best, and you were about to become a part of it. You read the documents again.

‘All personnel will be working under John Price and answering to Kate Laswell, respectively-’ Your eyes trailed further along the mess of columned words, making sense of the legality aspects of transferring to a new team. You hadn't expected to be transferred over, not until Kate had contacted you with an offer. You could tell she was put under pressure by the way her voice strained against the receiver…

“Look, I need you here. Ever since Shepard went rogue, we've been a bit tight over here. John has stepped in as commanding officer; technically, we already have a sharpshooter on 141. But we could use a hand, just until we sort out our bearings. Then, if you'd like, I can transfer you back to your current team…”

You'd raised an eyebrow, “Laswell, you're acting like I'm the only one who can fill these shoes. Why don't you hire a private contractor from KorTac? I'm sure they have more experience anyway.” You heard her blow out air from her nose, amused. “[Name], I don't think I have to tell you how much these guys hate private contractors. We need someone who can work as a collective team, you know… integrate themselves for the time being.”

You pursed your lips together, weighing out the pros and cons. However, Laswell was one of the best people you had ever met, a long-time friend since the baby days of your recruitment. She was a woman of her word, and she had your back. And if she said this team needed someone, she was being serious. You sighed, leaning back, “Okay, send me the details, Laswell. I'll think about it.”

…You read the contract one last time; it was simple enough. You would be transferred to 141 at the end of the month; it was a year-long contract. Which, in a way, made you a private contractor, too. The rest of 141 was under the impression that you were there to stay, everyone except the Captain and, of course, Laswell, not that she was on 141. If they decided they didn't need you before the contract ended, you could pick to stay for the remainder of the year or transfer back to your original task force.

A sigh left your mouth; you picked up your pen and flipped to the last page. Etching your signature into the blank line. You had till the end of the month; as of that moment, you were officially a member of 141.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Well, you had to give Laswell credit where credit was due. It had been a few weeks since your arrival and you fit in quite smoothly into 141; you believe she called it “integrating.” To nobody's surprise, the team was almost entirely men, aside from Ferrah, who was stationed elsewhere. It hadn't been long since your arrival until you were bound to run into someone; Jhonny was the first…

It was later in the day and you were wandering about; transferring to a new location was something you never got used to, so you tried to get a head start on mapping out the place. Everything was similar to your last base, but you still felt a bit alien. A small room tucked off to the side caught your eye, and you followed in that direction. It was a small break room, a kitchen, and a fridge tucked away in the side; there were a few cupboards and a single run-down couch.

You mosied over to the kitchen, opening cupboards and looking inside drawers. You found the usual silverware, mugs, napkins, junk, and tea bags. You stopped; tea actually sounded pretty good. Sitting on the counter was one of those electric tea kettles; you reached for it.

Waiting until the water was boiling, you grabbed the first mug you saw in the cupboard. As you dipped one of the tea bags into the scalding liquid, the door handle jostled across the room. You heard him before you saw him; his voice was deep, a bit raspy, with a thick Scottish accent. Walking through the door came a man dressed in sweatpants and a military-issued shirt. His head was shaved aside from a cropped mohawk of brown hair. His face was pulled into a subtle frown with his eyebrows furrowed. A phone pressed against his head by his shoulder.

You locked eyes with him, the pale spheres of his eyes boring into yours. You could tell he was studying you, maybe trying to deduce if he had seen you before or if you were a stranger. Suddenly, you heard muffled talking coming from the receiver of his phone. You looked down at your tea, not wanting to be considered rude for staring.

The man's voice came again, but it was almost unreadable. It was like a different language, probably Scottish, and then it stopped. When you looked back up, he was standing a few feet away from you, reaching into one of the cupboards.

“Sisters.”

You blinked; it took you a moment to understand he was talking to you. “I-What?” You asked, caught off guard by his comment. He looked back at you, holding up his phone. “S’who I was talking to.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you nodded slowly; it was an odd way of making conversation. “Oh, okay…You uh- don't look too happy about it, family troubles?” You asked, his lips cracked into a soft smile, and he shook his head. “Nah, she's just a bit dafty. She's auld, so she feels the need to boss me around from time to time.”

You nodded along, trying to use context clues to understand some of his choice words. You watched him fill his mug with some water you had just boiled. “Ah, I see. I'm not sure I can relate; I'm the oldest sibling, so maybe I do all the bossing around.” He nodded, one of his thick eyebrows rasing, “How many siblings?”

You smiled, “Just two, a brother and sister.” The man hummed, looking down at his tea. “Gotcha…” A silence enveloped the room, and after another agonizing moment, he spoke up again. “You a new hire around here? Can't say I would forget a face like yours, lass.” You nodded, glad that the silence had been put to rest, a smile growing on your face at his comment. “Yeah, new transfer to 141.” Suddenly, his eyes grew more comprehensive, “You're the newbie?” He said, astonished.

You chuckled softly, “I wouldn't say newbie; I'm just a transfer from another unit.” His face cracked into a grin, “No kidding, apologies, didn't mean to come off as rude.” He held his hand out to you, “Johnny McTavish, team calls me Soap.”

Your eyebrows raised, “You're a part of 141?” His smile didn't fade as he nodded, “Aye, sharpshooter and sniper.” You felt a grin creeping up on your face; this Soap guy was friendly. Way friendlier than you thought the people on 141 would be. “I’m [Name]. I'm also a sharpshooter, but I also work with mechanics and firearms. Soap is…uh pretty interesting call sign, any meaning behind it?” You saw something in his eye; maybe it was pride, or perhaps something more sinister, “Well, when you clean out a room as fast as I do, people notice. You ain't got a callsign, Bonnie?”

You shook your head, “No, I guess my name has always just done the job.” Soap pat you on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you one.” You and Soap just talked for the next few minutes; it was nice. The conversation ebbed and flowed without problem; he nodded to the door after your tea was nearly empty. “Aye, Bonnie, why don’t I take you to meet the rest of the team? Give you a head start on the meet and greet.”

You smiled, “Yeah, why not?”

…The more time you spent with the team, the easier it got; it helped that they made good conversation. Jhonny was…well, Johnny, good sense of humor but never knew when to quit. Ghost was quieter; he didn't trust you immediately, but you'd managed to pull a few chuckles from him and the occasional polite conversation.

Kyle Garrick, or ‘Gaz,’ was an all-around good guy, funny, polite, and incredibly talented. You could never get over the time that you had gotten drunk off your ass, and Ghost told you a story of when Gaz fell out from a helicopter and was shooting at people while he was swinging from the airborne vehicle.

And then there was Price. Captain John Price, you'd met Price a day after Soap introduced you to the rest of the boys. To say the atmosphere was tense between you would be an understatement. From the minute he laid his eyes on you, they went stiff. His whole demeanor around you reminded you of a rock; it was like he didn't even want you on the team. His voice went curt, and whenever you spoke, his eyes bore holes into your head like he wanted to shoot lasers into your brain by just staring.

You'd talk about it to the rest of the team, but they shrugged it off. “Maybe he ain't used to you yet; it takes a while for the lad to trust anyone. He usually puts on the tough guy act for new recruits.” Ghost had said; Jhonny snorted at that. “Tough guy act? Dinnae, nothing bout that; when I first joined, the man made me want to pull out my hair. Think that's more than a tough guy act L.T.”

Usually, this wouldn't have bothered you as much as it did. But for some odd reason, he got under your skin like nobody else could. And believe, you were no stranger to difficult co-workers and bosses. Even worse, your first interaction with him was incredibly awkward, and you couldn't have left a good impression even if you had tried. It was almost etched into your mind like a stone tablet…

It was your last day to set up, get used to the team and your surroundings before you started working. The three days you had to relax were mostly spent either in the base gym, or eating in the cafeteria. What could you say, you were a creature of habit.

Until this point, you had met almost the entire team besides the captain. Technically, you weren’t required to meet him until you started working, but you'd already met everyone else. So, you figured it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted. You pried the information about Price’s whereabouts from Gaz: “I haven't seen him up and about today; usually, he's around. It probably means he's hauled up in his piss-poor office. The guy hates it there but usually locks himself up there when he's in a bad mood or has paperwork.”

Despite his warning, you went ahead and searched for Price’s office. That was mistake number one. After a minute or two of searching, you came across a door with the engraving “Price” carved into the wood in neat lettering. You reached for the door and tried to turn the handle, but nothing. It was locked; you frowned and tried again. But to nobody's surprise, the door remained shut.

So, you resorted to the next best thing. You knocked a few times but were met with radio silence. Maybe he wasn't in there, you chewed on your lip, thinking. There was a small window in the door, but it was covered by blinds. You squinted, pressing your hands to the wood and moving your face inches from the glass; you tried to peer inside despite the closed blinds. That was mistake number two.

“Can I help you?”

You jumped. The voice came from behind you. It was deep with a smooth British accent; you whirled around to face the person. Your eyes met what was possibly, in your opinion, sex on two legs. The man was tall and built like a tank, judging from how his biceps and chest filled out his cotton shirt. His face was stern, with short-cropped brown hair and a muttonchop beard. His eyes a deep shade of blue, you swallowed.

Damn.

You didn't believe you had a type, but this guy probably would've checked off all the boxes if you did. You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment; when he raised his eyebrow, you snapped out of your trance-like state. “I’m-uh looking for Captain Price. I thought I'd check his office, but I don't think he's there.” You cringed; your voice was rushed, a pitch higher, too.

The man crossed his arms; god, he could probably pop your head like a balloon with those things alone. “Well, you found him.” He said plainly. You stared at him briefly; of course, he was the captain. Why else would he be here? You wanted to punch yourself in the gut. “Oh,” you breathed, “great then. I wanted to introduce myself; I'm the new transfer.” You tried to muster up a confident smile, which most likely had the opposite effect, given he was looking at you like you'd grown a second head.

“[Name], I know. I read your file.” He deadpanned. His voice caught you a little off guard; he wasn't irritated per se, but he didn't seem happy about this introduction. You cleared your throat, “Great then, I'm sure Laswell told you I was coming?” You were grasping at strings here, trying to prolong the conversation.

“Yes. I'm well aware you are here. Laswell has a way of inserting help into my team.” You paused; well, that wasn't meant to be a compliment. Your smile faltered, and you looked around the room like this was some prank. “She said you guys needed someone…?”

Price nodded, his demeanor unsettlingly calm, “That’s her opinion. Now, I respect Laswell; she knows what she's doing. That doesn't mean I always agree with her; 141 was just fine, this is just a precaution on her part.”

You felt your eye twitch a little; you transferred from your other unit, the unit you were extremely close to, mind you… for this? You joined out of the kindness of your heart, only for this jackass to say you were ‘just a precaution.’ “Well, I hope you won't hold a grudge.” You said a bit curtly. Price pursed his lips together in a tight line.

“Wouldn't dream of it; a year is an awful long time to hold a grudge.” He said, the malice and ego coming off his tongue so strong you could almost taste it. What was this guy's problem with you? You did the nice thing and took time out of your day to introduce yourself to him. And he was treating you like you'd personally wronged him. “Good, then I won't either.” You breathed, frustrated. Price looked down at you, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “Well, that's good to hear; now, are you going to let me into my own office or keep standing there like a human blockade?”

This guy.

Your palms squeezed into fists, shooting him a nasty glare. You forgot you were standing right in front of the door, the embarrassment making the tips of your ears heat up. You pushed yourself to walk away, “It was nice meeting you, Captain.” You spit, venom in your tone, walking away like a wounded animal.

Suddenly, you somehow forgot about how hot he was; at that moment, you wanted to smash his gorgeous face into a wall. You liked your new Captain a lot more when he didn't speak. But the reality set in: John Price hated you for some unknown reason, and you were starting to hate him back.

…You had calmed down since that first encounter. Maybe it was a one-off thing; after all, you did go when Gaz warned you that he may already be in a bad mood. Maybe you had jumped the gun? and Price didn't hate you.

News flash: He hated you, and it was not a one-off encounter.

You were now a month into your new job, and if it weren't for Price, you would've actually been enjoying your time with 141. Everyone else was great; they were warming up to the idea of having you as a teammate. The training was hard on you, but you expected that, you were improving day to day. But no matter how well you did, you always had Price’s voice in your ear telling you that you could've done better. The man was running circles around you.

Slowly, you started to lose patience with him; when he laid out the bait, you bit. It was getting easier to react instead of keeping calm and passive-aggressively telling him you were grateful for the friendly criticism.

Even the team started to watch every interaction you had with the Captain keenly. They would tease you ruthlessly, saying his name while your back was turned just to laugh at the way your whole body seemed to go as stiff as a board.

“I swear the two of ya seem to bicker like an auld married couple. It's like watching my parents fight.” Soap had said to you once after an agitated conversation you'd had with Price moments before.

Was it your fault for causing some of the arguments between you two? Possibly. But he instigated just as much as you did; it was like a competition of who could get under the other's skin the most. And you couldn't even avoid him; Gaz wasn't kidding when he said he was out and about when Price wasn't in his office. He was like your shadow.

You were in the cafeteria? Oh, so was Price. You were in the gym? That's funny; Price was just about to do his workout. Training? He was practically glued to you and nitpicking everything you did. You were trying to go for a fucking walk around base past lights out? Price couldn't sleep, and as your captain, it was his obligation to make sure you didn't do anything stupid.

Intrusively, you wondered if he had implanted a tracker into you while you were sleeping. That had to be it; there was no way you just happened to experience so many ‘coincidences’ back to back.

Eleven more months, you had eleven more months stuck with him. Maybe in that time, you could come up with a detailed plan on how you would murder, hide, and successfully get away with killing your Captain.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was one of those off days where you didn’t have much to do. Like the calm before the storm, 141 had an incoming operation; plans were laid out, and everyone knew what to do. All that was left was playing the waiting game before you loaded into the helicopter and landed in a checkpoint base in Urzikstan.

With nothing to do, you figured it wouldn't hurt to hide away in the break room with some tea and scroll on your phone. You rarely had time to yourself, so you might as well make the best of it. You peeked into the break room and smiled when you found it was empty. You made a beeline to the small kitchen counter; you'd managed to snag some different types of tea for yourself over the few weeks you had been at base. It was the floral and sweet kind that nobody touched, despite Ghost's comment that: “It's not real tea.” You found it incredibly enjoyable.

As you turned on the electric kettle, the doorknob jostled. You looked up, and your eyes met Price. Well, shit. He made eye contact with you. Obviously, the feeling between you two was mutual based on how his lips dropped into a frown when he saw you. You stared at each other for a beat before you turned your head away.

You weren't doing this today; you were too tired to bicker with your captain over something useless. You stared at the counter, waiting for him to leave or speak. But he did neither. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed a mug. The silence between you was so loud that the room might've been quieter if you were arguing.

He was close, not enough that you were touching, but enough that his presence almost tickled your skin.

You just continued to watch the counter and your mug. Glancing at the kettle, you almost grimaced; it was barely bubbling. When did boiling water take so long? The tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. But, Price was the first to crack.

“Interesting mug,” he commented, his voice as it always was when he spoke to you. Dry. You debated not responding, but the silence was killing you just as much. “It's my favorite.” You said back, matching his tone. However, your eyes were soft as you looked at the mug before you. It was ceramic, with hand-painted fish drawn onto it. Cod, salmon, tuna, and swordfish, too, their colors vibrant compared to the barren beige of the rest of the cup.

He made a low hum sound, almost like he didn't believe you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you finally turned to look at him. You stopped briefly; his eyes had heavier bags than the last time you'd seen him. He didn't look as stern or unshakeable as usual; rather, he looked more weary, human. You forgot you were going to say something to him, “What?” You said, suspicious.

His eyes broke away from yours, looking down at his hands as they tore away the top of an instant coffee packet. Price emptied its contents into his plain white mug and cleared his throat. “Nothing, s’just that's my mug.” He said; his voice wasn't mad or accusatory. Instead, it was just like he was stating a fact.

You frowned, your eyebrows sinking further down your face. What was he talking about? You'd been using this mug for weeks; in fact, this was the first mug you'd used here, back when you first met Jhonny and the rest of the team. “That's not true; all the mugs in the cupboard are communal.” You pointed out, looking at him like you'd caught him in a bad lie.

He looked back at you, an almost smugness to his gaze. “Look at the bottom of the cup.” He said plainly. Your frown deepened, but you grabbed the mug and turned it over in your hands out of curiosity.

JP. It was painted in small lettering in the middle of the circular bottom. Your face dropped. Oh. JP, standing for John Price. It was his mug. Your face reddened as you realized you had been drinking out of his cup for the past month. Why hadn’t he said anything about it to you before now? He obviously knew, considering he'd seen you drink from it before.

You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a good defense. “But- Jhonny told me all the mugs in the break room were for everyone. Including this one.” You said, pointing at the mug in your hands.

Price raised one eyebrow, “And you believed him?” He said. The gears in your head started to turn; the guy had a point. Why had you trusted him of all people? You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, “fucking christ Soap.” You muttered, primarily to yourself.

The steaming whistle of the kettle broke your train of thought, and your head snapped in its direction. You looked from the boiling kettle to the mug in your hand, a sigh exiting your chest. You held out the mug to him, “Here. It's yours, I'll get another one.”

Price looked surprised for a beat before his face went neutral again. He shook his head, pushing the mug back towards you. “No need; I've already got this one.” He grunted, nodding to the plain white mug sitting on his side of the counter. Before you could protest, he grabbed the kettle, pouring the hot water into his mug. Your nose scrunched as the aroma of instant coffee hit you.

He raised an eyebrow at your visceral reaction, “Not a fan of coffee now, are we?”

You cleared your throat, looking away from the blackening devil concoction. “I like coffee-” You clarified, “-just not that instant crap; it tastes like sewer water.” The curve of his lip twitched into a half-amused smile. Bringing the mug to his lips and taking a hearty sip, “noted.” Price hummed. You reached out to grab the kettle, but he handed it over to you before you could.

You raised your eyebrow; this was the closest thing you'd ever had to a friendly conversation with your Captain. You skeptically took it, breathing a ‘thanks’ to him. A comfortable silence fell on the both of you; Price could drink his coffee while you waited for your tea to brew.

Your eyes seemed to pull towards his direction as you waited, observing the curve of his lips, his nose that was just a bit crooked, and the coarse hair of his beard that thinned into stubble the further down his neck it went. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed his drink and how his large hand seemed to make the mug seem small. He somehow pulled off looking like he hadn't slept in weeks, which ticked you off somewhat.

He shot you a sideways glance, “You're staring.” Price said flatly; you looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I was…zoning out. And for the record, I was looking at the-uh wall behind you.” You cringed at yourself; the long pauses and uhs weren't adding to your credibility.

Price gave you a funny look, turning to look at the refrigerator behind him, which was most definitely not a wall. He turned back to you, “The wall you said?”

Well, shit, thanks, captain obvious. You frowned, giving up, “It doesn't matter-” you huffed, “Point is, I was zoned out.”

That answer seemed to satisfy him or at least force him to drop the subject; Price shrugged and took another sip from his mug. “Let's hope you don't make a habit out of it. Wouldn't want to add that to the other list of…qualities you have.” Here we go again. You raised an eyebrow, the edge in his tone all too familiar. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Which are?”

Price cleared his throat, gesturing his mug to you and your tea. “Theavory, for one.” Well, he got you there. You blew out air from your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you'd let him pull from you.

“Funny.” You said sarcastically.

A small smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah, well, just trying to lighten the mood between us.”

There was a pause.

The way he said ‘between us’ didn't sit right with you; what he said had undertones of bitterness, almost similar to the layers of an onion. Now, was it possible that you were reading too much into this? Yes. Was it also a tone-deaf thing to say, considering he was the primary reason you two didn't like each other in the first place? Also yes.

Don't bite the bait; don't bite the bait, “The mood you created?” You bit the bait.

He glanced at you, one of his eyebrows arching. For a second, it was silent, like he was mulling over whether it was worth it to engage. Price sighed, setting his drink down. “Look… [Name], if this is about that time when we first met, I was in a bad mood. I wasn't trying to be harsh; I'd just had a shit day. Nothing personal on you.” He craned his neck to the side, sliding a hand over his nape.

You crossed your arms. “You could've apologized,” you pointed out. Price paused, staring at you quizzically, “Why would I need to apologize?”

You almost gaped at him; his ego seemed to know no bounds. If it wasn't so irritating, it might have been comical, “You called my job a ‘precaution,’ and me, a ‘human blockade-’” You deadpanned, “-I don't like when someone downplays my whole career.” Price just stared at you blankly, his face morphing into more confusion.

“But you are a precaution.” He said, “That's the whole reason why Laswell put you here.” It was like he was explaining something to a child.

You huffed, “Captain. With all due respect, I'm a part of this team whether we like it or not. I don't want to be treated like an outsider- everyone else here seems to treat me like I belong here so why don't you? What's not to trust?” You questioned, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips pressed into a not-so-subtle frown.

“You don't belong here, though,” Price said frostily. “You're here for a year [Name], no more, no less. You belong to a different task force, so excuse me if I treat you as such.”

You stood there, stunned for a moment. A familiar feeling of resentment bubbling up inside you like the electric tea kettle. Your hands squeezed the ceramic of your mug, “Just because I'm not here to stay doesn't mean I'm any less committed to my job. I work my ass off every day to show you that I belong here. I just don’t understand why you’re too stubborn to even see that.” You huffed.

Price pursed his lips into a tight line, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer. “I don't have time to micro-manage everything you do. That's not stubborn; it's having other responsibilities besides making you feel included.”

Well, if he hadn't made you feel like a toddler before, he definitely was now. “Well, that's funny because you seem to do a perfectly good job at micromanaging everything I do despite your ‘lack of free time.’ And- I’m not asking you to make me feel included; I’m not an infant. I’m asking you to treat me with the same respect you treat everyone else with.” You hissed.

It didn’t surprise you how quickly the polite interaction with him turned into another bitter argument. When it came to Price, emotions ran high. Higher than you would like to admit.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a child, I would respect you more.” He bit back, and you groaned, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I’m not though- I’m clearly telling you the problem between us. But since you have this…this grudge against me you won’t even listen to me.” You huffed.

Price shot you a look that said, ' I'm winning this argument, and there is nothing you can say to stop that.’

Internally, you wondered if getting dishonorably discharged was worth throwing hot tea into your captain's stupid face. Instead, you decided to look away, setting your mug on the counter with a sharp ‘clank.’ “Fine then, don't listen to me. That works, too.” You breathed through your teeth.

Price downed the rest of his coffee, throwing his head back and then setting his mug upside down in the small sink. He turned his whole body to you, crossing his arms. His blue eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows pinched together in scrutiny. “You want me to listen? Go ahead. Say what you want; I'm all ears.”

Your voice died in your throat. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you didn't put up much of a fight against him, especially not with his ‘I'm the Captain, and you are one word away from cleaning toilets’ voice.

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, and the silence between you hung dangerously quiet for another moment. “Nothing, Captain.” You said through your teeth.

Price nodded, his eyes drilling holes into you, “That's what I thought. Now, it better stay that way for the duration of the next week or so help me; I will take away every privilege you have.” With that, he promptly turned on his heel and stormed out. Leaving you, a seething statue.

You looked down at his mug, still held tightly in your hand. You glared at the painted fish, “Fuck you.” You whispered to the watercolor salmon. Your frown deepened, substantially disappointed that whispering ‘fuck you’ to your Captain's mug didn't carry the same satisfaction you'd feel if you said it straight to his face.

Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. Scratch that. Arguing with Price was worse than arguing a brick wall, a brick wall wouldn't intimidate you and then storm off.

You didn't feel like finishing your tea anymore. You grit your teeth together, dumping the liquid into the sink and watching as it slides down the drain. You had a few days before the mission, and you were going to make sure that you didn't fuck anything up. Lest you suffer the wrath of Price and your own self-doubt.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Shit!”

Your head snapped toward the voice, even with the night vision gear you had everything was difficult to identify. It was safe to say you weren't a fan.

It had been 72 hours since you landed in Urzikstan, and 4 hours since you left the checkpoint base. If you had to guess, it was most likely around 0300 standard military time. Which meant you and the rest of 141 only had another two hours before you had to evacuate and hop on the trucks back to the checkpoint.

Your orders were simple enough, break into the compound and locate the underground terror group that was allegedly creating a bio-warfare laboratory. While it wasn't concreated information British and American SAS couldn't risk not sending a team to see if the tip was accurate. Being the genuine pigs of the situation didn't sit right with you but you weren't employed for your opinion on what the government chose to do and not do.

Still, being sent on a wild goose chase or worse into a trap made you more on edge. Everyone had paired up in case this was a setup and because the universe could never let you win you were grouped with Price. Which brought you back to the present moment.

“Price whats going on? talk to me.” You said in response to his curse. Trying to keep your voice as low as you could while still being audible. You weren't an expert but typically someone hissing ‘shit!’ wasn't a good sign.

In the split second before he could respond you heard the click. Along with the sound of Price’s footsteps trying to get out of the way, then came the sharp boom of a gun being fired. Only after the sound had left the barrel of the gun did you see it. The building wasn't finished, half of the construction was halted, leaving rooms unfinished, walk-offs, and random piles of rubble. Hidden behind a cement pillar a floor above, looking down at you was a person. More importantly a person behind a giant ass gun.

Shit!

You immediately threw yourself out of the way, ducking yourself behind a large amount of rubble. Your eyes scanned for Price in the darkness, frantically making sense of the objects around you. Another fire. Followed by another one. You didn't have time to look for Price. You turned your body, shielded by the debris, and pointed your gun up. It didn't take long before you locked onto the figure, you drew your breath in and pulled the trigger. The firing stopped.

You peered up over the rubble just in time to see the limp body flop over the drop-off and slam into the concrete. You were met with a deafening silence, “Price you copy?”

After a moment you heard someone move, “Yeah-” Your shoulders dropped, a breath you didn't realize you were holding escaped. You never thought hearing that deep British voice would ever make you this relieved. “Yeah, I copy.” He breathed. You stood, carefully making your way over to the corpse of your attacker. Looking down at the body, their face hidden by a cloth and glazed-over eyes looking up at the ceiling.

You grimaced, it was like looking at a dead fish. You looked up, nobody else was above. The only thing remaining was the unaccompanied sniper.

“This guy was alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing. “And his aim was shit.” You deadpanned. Your head turned, expecting to meet Price. But were only greeted by an empty space, “Price?” You asked looking around.

“Over here.” He gruffed, you turned around. Price was standing next to a wall, his palm flat against its surface. It was like he was leaning against it, your eyes narrowed. His left leg was slightly raised off the ground, something wasn't right.

You jogged over to him, “What's the matter?” you asked, because of the night vision goggles coupled with the amount of gear he was wearing you couldn't see his face well. However, you didn't miss the way his jaw flexed. Before he could respond you pinpointed the issue. The leg that was raised had a small bullet-sized hole in his boot.

“Shit.” You breathed.

This really wasn't what you needed. You and Price had to be out of the compound in the next hour and a half, being shot in the foot was a major problem. At least it wasn't an organ, you thought. “Can you still walk?” You asked.

Price put his foot on the ground, putting his weight on it. You cringed as he let out a quiet hiss, “Yeah just fuckin’ hurts like hell.” He took a step, he was limping but he could walk. Which was a small win for both of you. Just as you opened your mouth someone spoke in your ear piece.

“[Name], Price, you copy? We heard shots.” The voice was grave, deep, with a thick British accent. Ghost.

Price answered, “We’re fine. Bastard with a sniper nicked my foot. Did any of you find the lab yet?” He said through clenched teeth, despite your dislike of your captain you felt a little guilty. If you'd seen the shooter before Price would probably be fine.

“We just found it, nobody’s here. S’a fuckin’ ghost town… no pun intended.” Ghost’s staticky voice rang in your ear, if you were in a better situation you might have laughed. Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned.

“That makes no sense.” You chimed in, “If this guy was here there should be more people. It doesn't make sense for only one person to be set up here.” You looked at Price. His head was already turned to look at you. It was a beat before anyone spoke again.

“Price.” A raspy Scottish accent this time. Soap. “The labs empty, no inventory at all. Everything is sterile.” You felt your throat run dry, the silence on the radio spoke louder than anything you or anyone else could say. Either they evacuated before the team had gotten there or the whole building was a ruse.

You looked back at the corpse lying a few feet away from you and Price. “They knew we were coming.” You breathed. The weight of your words seemed to carry for miles, but the implications might have been worse. You looked at Price, the same thoughts you had probably already running through his head. “We need to fucking leave, right now.”

Price gave a small nod, “Everyone get out. Gaz, call for emergency evac now. Leave the same way we came do not under any circumstances go further into this building.” Price demanded. Which was followed by a series of ‘copies.’ You started for the way you entered, just as you reached the empty doorframe you heard a grunt behind you. You looked back, fuck. You forgot Price was hurt, fuck, fuck, fuck. He could walk but there was no way he could run with his foot.

You doubled back, and as you ran to him Price raised his hands. Almost in protest, “I can keep up, I'm not immobile.” He exhaled, and you shot him an unimpressed look. The situation was bad enough, you weren't going to deal with this. You couldn't waste time and walking on a bad foot would only worsen it for Price in the long run.

You grabbed his arm and slung it over your shoulder, one arm grabbed the back of his vest, holding his side up so his injured foot didn't hit the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable but it worked.

Price opened his mouth but you spoke before he could get a word in. “You can't keep up and you know it. Whatever problems we have don't matter right now, we've got to get out of here. God knows what the people who were here before us did to this place. But we don't have time to think about that-” Your eyes met his, the red hue of the night vision goggles making his navy eyes seem black. “-I’d much rather keep you alive but I would gladly die with you than have it be my fault that you die. So shut the fuck up and move.”

That seemed to do the trick because Price did in fact, shut the fuck up. You quickly exited with Price. It wasn't as fast as you would've liked to leave but it was the best you could do with a six-foot tank of a man leaning against you.

A few minutes later you and Price successfully made it out. The rest of the team was already waiting a ways away from the building, you let out a relieved sigh. Just being out of the compound seemed to lift a weight off your chest and calm your racing heart. Price seemed to feel the same way judging by his taunt muscles relaxing slightly.

You made your way over to the team, Ghost was the first to notice you. He did a slight double-take as he saw Price, “Thought you said the bloke nicked you?” He commented, you gently released Price letting him lean against the outside wall of an abandoned house.

Price grunted, “Yeah well he nicked me good.” He said back, Ghost nodded. Soap and Gaz peered at the bloody hole in his boot, “That’s gonna be a pain to heal I’ll tell you that.” Soap commented, and Gaz nodded along. “No kidding.”

Price’s frown deepened, and he let out a breath. “Gaz how long till evac trucks pick us up?” Gaz looked out at the open area then looked back, “I’d say twenty minutes give or take.” That answer seemed to give Price a little peace.

A few minutes had gone by, and Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were all talking with you while Price leaned against the wall silently. You glanced at your Captain, gingerly making your way over you leaned against the wall a few inches away from him. You didn't know what to say if you should say anything for that matter. Making conversation with Price wasn't your strong suit, but you felt bad.

“So…you okay?” You asked dumbly, Price gave you a look that made you want to go right back to the others. He was silent for a beat before speaking. “I got shot in the foot [Name], you tell me.” He deadpanned.

You swallowed, nodding. Asshole. No matter, you decided to take it in stride, “Right.” You breathed, “I just… wanted to check.” On second thought maybe you really should leave, it was like you were communicating with an alien. And after your last argument with Price, you walked on eggshells whenever you were around him.

The stretch of silence between the two of you lasted longer than you would've liked. But after a moment Price cleared his throat and nodded, “Thank you.” He said.

You did a bit of a double-take, thank you? Price never thanked you. It was like he was allergic to congratulating or acknowledging you in any form that wasn't to reprimand you. You must've looked as confused as you felt by the way he glanced at you and then went on. “For helping me out of there, you were prepared for the worst back there and you still had my back. I appreciate that-”

“-you uh, you did good.” He clarified.

Your mouth was probably hanging open at this point, ‘you did good.’ The words hung in the air around you, filling your ears with cotton. Price your captain, Price your mortal enemy had praised you. He gave you a sideways glance, “Don't look so shocked [Name], you're still on thin ice.”

Ah, there it was, your shoulders slumped. It was better than nothing though, “Right, uhm thank you.” You said a bit awkwardly, Price gave you a small nod in return. It wasn't much, but it was acknowledgment.

After some time passed by you and the rest of 141 loaded into the trucks, starting the long drive to the checkpoint base. You tried to lean your head back and get just a little bit of rest, but after thirty minutes of failing to do so, you gave up. There was just too much in your head, too many unanswered questions. You thought about the man you'd killed, why was he there? What was the use of evacuating a building if you just left a single sniper with terrible aim lying in wait for someone to come looking around?

Did that mean they didn't know 141 specifically was coming? The question that worried you the most was the fact that if they did plan for you to raid the lab, who on the inside was feeding these people your team's operations? You shuddered. It was bad enough that commanding officer Shepard went rogue a few months prior. The SAS really didn't need another mole. Especially considering the amount of enemies the American and British military had made.

Your shoulders slumped, it didn’t really matter, what mattered was that everyone made it out. You didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if the previous occupants had left explosives inside the building. It was better to just be thankful that nothing happened.

Your first operation with 141 had been a bust, but considering the circumstances you thought it went as well as it could’ve. Not counting Price’s foot.

Subconsciously your eyes drifted over to Price, his boot had been taken off and his foot was wrapped in white garb. Just until someone could look at it properly, everyone had taken their night visions and helmets off to get some shut-eye. Your gaze drifted up until they met his face, navy eyes met yours. You froze, you hadn't realized Price was awake. The two of you didn't break eye contact for a minute, almost like a challenge of who would be the first to look away.

“You make a habit of staring at people or is it just me?” He deadpanned. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, he could never let you catch a break, could he?

“I wasn't staring, and you were looking at me too.” You defended, it didn't matter if you were staring, he wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you confess that. One of his thick eyebrows raised, “I glanced at you. There's a difference, you just happened to look up at the same time.” He said back, calm as ever.

You half rolled your eyes, he could word it however he wanted to, but in the end, it was pretty much the same thing. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.” You hummed, matching his nonchalance. Your gaze dropped back down to his bandaged foot, “How’s the foot?” You asked, hoping he wouldn't catch you changing the subject.

Price grunted, his head lulling back onto the seat. You shot a glance at his adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down before averting your eyes. “Feels like I got shot in the foot, so…not great. It's better than an organ so I won't complain that much.” He breathed.

You nodded, “You ever been shot before?” you asked, what could you say? You were curious. He nodded, clearing his throat he cast his head down to look at his chest. One of his hands pulled up his bullet vest and shirt revealing the beginnings of his abdomen, right above his hip bone there was a small scar. “Two years ago, caught me while I was down. Took forever to heal, fuckin’ hurt like hell too.”

You zeroed in on the exposed skin, it was all muscle, no surprises there. The man was built like a 4x6 brick, his skin was shiny with sweat, and from what you could see his bullet scar wasn't the only one that littered his skin. Just below the dipped fabric of his shirt was the start of a happy trail. You swallowed.

What the fuck was wrong with you? A few days ago you were plotting how you could murder him and now you're ogling a sliver of his stomach like a horny teen girl.

You absolutely did not find a single part of your boss attractive. Forget your first interaction with him when you were practically gaping over him like a fish. That didn't count. This was Price you were talking about. Sure, he was conventionally attractive with just the right amount of ruggish charm to make him mysterious. And yeah, he was built like a tank, so what? And you couldn't forget about his stupid fucking British accent, who the hell was into British accents anyways? (You were. Embarrassingly so.)

Price looked up at you, the silence making you raise an eyebrow. “See something you like aye?” He said, amusement dripping from his voice. Your eyes immediately snapped back to his face, embarrassment churning away at your insides.

“You wish,” You said back. So maybe you found some parts of your Captain hot, that didn't matter. In the end, it was still Price. And the flames of hatred don't die out just because one's enemy is a little (a lot) attractive.

Price breathed out what sounded like a laugh, he dropped the shirt. “Keep telling yourself that [Name].” Your fists squeezed together as he threw your words back at you.

You glared at him, “You're so full of it you know that?” You breathed, which only seemed to pique his interest further. You were glad the rest of the team was either sleeping or so used to your fighting that at this point they tuned you out. Jumping off a cliff seemed nice in comparison to the ruthless teasing that Soap and Ghost would enact if they found out you'd been caught ogling Price.

“Didn't realize this would strike a nerve, any particular reason why?” He said, you grimaced. You could almost taste the smugness from his tongue like syrup, “It didn't.” You said through your teeth, “Then again, egotistical men are a pain to be around. Especially ones that think everyone around them wants them.” You grumbled.

Your words seemed to have the opposite effect, Price straightened. A small tug at his lip made you want to slap that smirk right off. “I never said you wanted me, but liars always do have a way of telling on themselves don't they?” He grinned.

Something flashed in his eyes, you didn't have time to see what it was. But right now, all your willpower was devoted to not picking up your gun and giving him a matching hole in his right foot. “I think I'd rather shoot myself than be anything but professional with you.” You said frostily.

Price hummed, the smirk never leaving his face and he leaned back. “Glad the feeling is mutual.” He spoke calmly.

Your eye twitched, he was pulling that card now. Reverse physiology or whatever it was, the ‘I don't have to want you but you have to want me.’ Well too bad you didn't care, you couldn't care less. If Price didn't want you that was great-better even.

“Yeah,” You huffed, “Super glad.” You turned your head away so you didn't have to look in his direction. Maybe you should've left him in that building, it was a tempting thought. The rest of the drive back to the checkpoint was spent in silence.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The base felt dreary, everyone was still in a funk from the previous night. Everything felt just a bit more surreal, nobody was talking about what happened either. Not that there really was anything to discuss.

The checkpoint base wasn't as nice as your previous base. It wasn't even a full building, there were a few small ones but those were mostly used to store weapons. Everything else was industrial-sized tents, making privacy a luxury. It didn't even have a proper barracks, just a large tent with several stretcher-like beds placed in rows. To be completely honest the entire thing was a pile of shit. But it was a roof over your head so there was that.

You sat at a bench in the ‘commons,’ a poor excuse for food sitting in front of you. Gaz sat next to you while Ghost and Jhonny sat across from you. They all had similar grimaces plastered on their faces as they ate their protein paste.

“If I have to eat this shite for another day I'm going to go into that food storage room and light the thing up. They got us eating like dogs.” Ghost said after draining the last of his rations. You half-heartedly agreed, humming a sound of approval that was accompanied by Gaz’s small chuckle.

Soap grinned, “Don't get yer panties in a twist just yet L.T, heard they're serving dessert paste too. Courtesy of Price’s injury.”

You shivered, it sounded just as bad if not worse. Then a thought popped up, you looked around the common space. “Hey, you guys seen Price? Isn't he eating?” You hadn't seen him for almost the entire day, which was a blessing for you but it did strike you as odd when normally you couldn't get rid of him.

Gaz shrugged, “He was in the medical tent last time I saw him. The guy was getting his foot looked at, he’ll probably show up soon.”

Ghost turned his head to face you, while it was a little hard to tell with his balaclava, one of his eyebrows raised. “Awful concerned about Price aren't you? Thought you hated the man.” Your lips curled into an exasperated frown.

“I'm not. And I do hate him. I was just curious.” You brushed him off, trying to avoid his stony gaze. Soap and Gaz exchanged looks that made your eyebrows furrow.

Gaz looked at you, “What about the other day when you helped him out of the building?” Soap was next to chime in, “Or that you use his mug all the time and he lets you?”

You shot Gaz a glare, “First, he's still my Captain I'm not going to leave him in a building where I think he's going to die.” Then you directed a similar glare at Soap, “Second, I didn't know it was his mug because you tricked me into thinking the mugs were communal.” You said through your teeth.

Ghost smirked, “Sounds like you care.”

Your hands gripped the table with unnecessary force. “I do not.” You defended, the looks exchanged between them made you want to crawl into a hole. Suddenly you weren't as inclined to finish your meal. You stood, grabbing your tray of half-eaten food and trash. “I'm not hungry anymore.” You said dryly.

Soap laughed, faking a disappointed frown. “Come on lass we were just getting started with ya. Where's the fun in leaving before the real jokes start?” You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the bench and walking towards the trash.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” you replied as you dumped the remanence of your ‘lunch’ in the trash. Just as you were exiting the tent Soap's voice called out to you.

“Oh, if you see the old fart, tell him his dessert paste is waiting for him!” That earned an amused tug at the corner of your lips, shaking your head in exasperation as you pushed past the floppy tent entrance.

You didn't even make it a foot outside before your momentum was halted by a larger mass. Your face met something hard, but also somehow soft at the same time. You stumbled back, gaining back your balance from the force of running into something. Or more specifically, someone. You looked up in dismay to see what kind of idiot ran into you.

It was Price, because of fucking course it was.

But it was Price with the addition of a single crutch and a newly wrapped foot. Your eyes slowly crept up to his face, the mortifying reality that you slammed right into his chest setting in. What’s worse was that the previous conversation with the guys was still very fresh in your mind.

‘Sounds like you do care,’ Ghost’s words echoed in your mind, haunting you like a…well a ghost. Ironic.

“Do you mind?” Price's words snapped you out of your trance. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was silent for a moment before your vocal cords decided to actually comply and let you speak.

“You ran into me.” You said lamely, the tips of your ears felt hot. Like lava was slowly being poured onto your head. Price’s eyebrows furrowed, his navy eyes studying you. Even on one crutch, he seemed to tower over you in a way that made you antsy.

“Why are you red?” He asked, the question caught you off guard. Making you falter for a second time, “I-What?”

Price’s eyes narrowed a bit, a finger pointed directly at you. “Your face. It's red,” It wasn't a jab, more like he was observing a simple fact. Suddenly you became hyper-aware of the heat spreading across your face. You touched your cheek, and the pads of your fingers burned at the touch.

Oh my god.

Your face was hot, it was flushed. You were blushing. Blushing. In front of Price.

You swallowed, feeling a bob in your throat. It was like you were in one of those dreams where you showed up to school naked. “I'm allergic-” You blurted out.

A beat of silence ensued, and Price raised a single brow. “Allergic?” He said, to which you responded with a hard nod. Think, think- what was a believable lie? “Yes… to the dessert paste.”

Price didn't look skeptical now, he just looked downright confused. “What the hell is dessert paste?” He questioned, while a good question, you didn't want to stand around to explain it to him while your face looked like the cover of a period ad. You shook your head, steering around him like a robot.

“Ask soap.” You said as you made your escape, “I'm going to the med tent so I don't go into anaphylactic shock.”

That was a lie, you were going to the bathroom to rethink your career and splash cold water on your face. Leaving Price a standing statue, a perplexed look on his face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A pack of 8 beers was slammed down onto the small table in front of where you were sitting. The bottles lightly clanked together, you looked up. “What’s this?” You asked, Soap stood in front of you with a confident grin.

“This is how we’re going to make it through our last 10 hours in this shit hole.” He proclaimed, his hands on his hips.

It was late, everyone but Price was in the sleeping tent. True to Soap’s words, in 10 hours you and the rest of 141 were finally going to load up into the heli and return to the original base. Thank goodness too, you didn't think you could stomach another meal here. Ghost looked over from his cott, “The hell did you get that from?”

Soap waved him off, smoothing over his poor example of a mohawk. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” He fished into his pant pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, grabbing one of the bottles he flicked the cap off with a soft pop’ “Since it is our last night, why not celebrate?” He went on.

You eyed the pack suspiciously, if it came from here it was probably shit beer. But it was still something, you shrugged. You reached for one, “I'll take what I can get.” You sighed.

Grabbing a bottle you snatched Soap’s knife to knock off the cap. Throwing your head back as you took a generous swig, it burned down your throat. The pungent flavor making your nose scrunch and your mouth curl. Soap did the same, smacking his lips as he swallowed. “Well…It could be worse.” He muttered.

Ghost and Gaz followed suit, walking over to your space and grabbing two bottles. After some time had passed the four of you had settled into a sort of circle, you were two beers in and things were already getting fuzzy. You didn't normally drink, mostly because you were a lightweight. But when you did drink, you got drunk. You were tipping your head back with laughter at every story, the warmth in your stomach making the tent somehow feel cozy.

Soap reached for his third bottle but Gaz swatted his hand away, “Leave some for Price Jhonny.” He scolded, Soap simply rolled his eyes and groaned. “The old man won't care, he only drinks at those shitty pubs. He's a stickler bout not drinkin’ on base, something about ‘not mixing business with pleasure’” He mocked, doing in your opinion, a decent Price impression. You chucked.

“I don't think Price takes ‘pleasure’ in anything, he's such a stick up the ass he wouldn't know fun if it hit him in the face.” You breathed, and while not the most articulate thing to say, your tongue and thoughts were loose enough that you didn't care.

Ghost’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk, “For someone who hates Price, you sure do love to talk about him any chance someone brings him up.” He said smugly, earning snickers from both Soap and Gaz.

“Oh fuck off will you?” You grumbled to Ghost, this whole teasing you about Price thing was getting old fast. “I say one thing and you guys act like I have some schoolgirl crush on him.”

Soap grinned, “You said it lass, not us.” He coughed abruptly when you smacked him in the stomach, making him lean forward to catch his breath. You glanced at Ghost who’s hands were now raised in surrender.

“Come off it [Name], we’re just teasing, you're not doing yourself any favors by acting with him the way you do.” He commented, which only confused you. All you did was argue with him, where was there room for speculation? The look on your face must've told them everything they needed to know.

“What do I do that gives off that impression even remotely?” You said defensively, they all exchanged looks.

Soap spoke up, “It's not just you bonnie, Price acts differently around you too. It just gives off a certain impression. Some people just take it the wrong way.” There was an underlying uncomfortableness to his words that you didn't miss. And who were ‘some people??’

Ghost smacked him upside the head, earning a startled grunt. “Fuckin’ twat, Soap doesn't know what he's saying.” Ghost said facing you. “He's already tipsy, don't take what he's saying to heart.” Soap was holding his head, shooting a glare at the lieutenant.

You shook your head, not ready to let it go. “No, who's some people? And what did you mean when you said ‘taking it the wrong way?’” Your eyes narrowed in on all three of them, waiting for someone to speak first. Gaz looked away, immediately giving him away as the weakest link. “Gaz what's he talking about?” You asked firmly.

He tensed up, glancing at Ghost and then back to you. “It's really nothing, it's just a silly rumor.” Ghost shot him a firm look, “Kyle-” He warned.

A rumor? What the hell was there to talk about? The last time you'd heard of a rumor going around about yourself was in high school, it wasn't a pleasant experience, to say the least. Your lips pursed into a tight line, something about how secretive they were being set you off. “What rumor?” You said, after a minute of silence, you slowly got more frustrated. “If it's about me I deserve to know.”

Ghost didn't speak, neither did Gaz, but Soap did. He blew out a sigh, glancing back at Ghost who was maintaining strict eye contact with you. “There is a bit of a widespread rumor back at base that you've been shaggin’ the boss. People started calling you Captain’s Girl.”

The pit of your stomach dropped.

You felt dizzy, looking between the three of them. Waiting for one of them to break, to smile and say ‘got you!’ but it never came. “You're joking right?” You said, laughing nervously, the longer the silence the more nauseous you became.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes hard but his demeanor a bit solemn. “We didn't want you to know for obvious reasons. Thought it would make things worse between the two of ya’ and it was just too far.” You swallowed, this was a joke. This was a joke and they were just teasing. When nobody spoke after the reality set in.

Of course, this would happen to you, you worked your ass off just to be respected in a field dominated by men. You were asked to be a part of 141. But all people saw was a slut who worked her way up the ladder by playing Miss ‘Hard to Get.’

“We tried to stop it as best we could trust us, it's just a little hard to keep quiet when word spreads fast,” Gaz interjected, his eyebrows scrunched in…guilt? Second-hand embarrassment? Sadness? You couldn't tell.

You sat there in silence, processing everything. “But- but I'm not. I'm not sleeping with him.” You sputtered.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder, “We know you ain't. You don't need to listen to those people anyways, it's just barrack talk, people needing a story to make their lives more interesting.” A well of emotions started to flood your senses, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the gravity of the situation hitting you.

Captain’s girl.

What. The. Fuck.

This was Price’s fault. It had to have been, Soap said he was acting weird. Maybe this was all his elaborate plan to destroy your career and kick you off 141 for fraternization. It had to have been him, right? You weren't thinking as clearly as you would have liked considering you were borderline drunk, but that didn't matter. You shot up from where you were sitting, making Soap jump.

Stumbling you started to make a beeline for the entrance, Gaz also got up and followed you, much to your chagrin. “[Name]? Where are you going??” He called after you.

“To find Price!” (And kill him.) You shouted back angrily, storming outside before Gaz had the chance to stop you. Obviously, you didn't think this through enough because it was pitch dark outside. And Price was nowhere in sight, fuck.

Whatever, you could search this place for hours if you had to. He was bound to pop up somewhere, like how the tide is drawn to the moon you and Price always had a way of being pulled into each other. You stormed through the dark, almost tripping on your own feet once or twice in the process.

You'd been there long enough that you could tell what area was what. Even in the pitch-black cloak of the dark, you could feel your heartbeat in your head. It was like your body was pulsing with the rhythm of your anger. Just as you were about to start shouting his name a light caught your eye. You swiveled your neck so fast it burned the muscles in your nape. Low and behold it was Price walking out of the medical tent with his single crutch.

He stopped when he noticed you, his face a mix of confusion. “What are you doing? I thought I told you guys not to go outside after lights out?”

You felt every emotion rush back to you at the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, the fucking absurdity of the whole situation. Your hands clenched into fists, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I thought you sucked before but I underestimated how much of a jackass you could be!”

Price stood there like a deer caught in headlights, so baffled he couldn't even speak. “Excuse me?”

You marched straight up to him, “You heard me. Apparently making my life a living hell wasn't enough for you was it? You sadistic fuck. Do you get off on torturing me? Is that it?” You spat. The heat in your face rising with each word.

He didn't say anything, his navy eyes looking at you like you belonged in an insane asylum. After a minute of silence, he breathed, “[Name]. Realistically I should be laying into you right now and giving you every single punishment there is for the rest of your stay here for cursing me out after lights out with no provocation on my end. But, I'm going to give you one chance to explain why you're acting like a screaming banshee before I send your ass straight to the bins.”

His words only ticked you off further, well two could play dumb. “You know exactly why I'm angry! No provocation is such bullshit. You- You just think I'm so stupid don't you?!” You were stumbling, your mouth felt heavy. It was like your mind was moving faster than your body could keep up with.

“Are you drunk?” He asked incredulously. You shook your head, “No! I mean yes I had a few drinks but I'm not drunk. Stop deflecting-” You rambled on.

His eyes turned to narrow slits, “I don't even know what I'm deflecting- you can't just start making a scene and expect me to know why you're angry. I'm not a mind reader.” He groaned.

“The name! The rumor- whatever you call it. You spread a rumor about me to the entire base that I'm sleeping with you! People are calling me your girl! The guys told me, everyone thinks I'm some slut because of you!” Everything in your body was burning, it felt good to finally yell at him but the words hit you hard.

You were labeled as the slut. No matter what you did there was always going to be a man overshadowing you just because of a preemptive notion that you were weaker. Something you'd spent your life fighting was now your reality.

Price’s eyes went wide, he almost resembled a wooden board. For a moment his eyes softened, like he was taking pity on you. “That's what this is about.” He breathed, “Look, I’m just as upset about that rumor and the name as you are. I don't know who started it but I can give you my word it wasn't me. You can ask any one of the guys and they will tell you the same thing.”

You started to speak but he raised a hand to stop you, “-I know it's not fair. But the damage has already been done, the thing about rumors is that they pass. And nobody thinks you're a slut. You're just as capable as anyone else on this team.” He said calmly.

It was silent for a moment. You didn't really know what to do or what to believe. All you had to go on was his word, which wouldn't normally hold much weight but something about him seemed so genuine. “I- how do I know you're not lying to my face? You hate me. And I’m just supposed to believe a random person made this rumor up when you've been trying to kick me off the team from the start.”

Price halted for a moment, his face reflecting a series of conflicting emotions. “I don't hate you, and I am not trying to kick you off.”

“Well, it sure as hell doesn't seem that way, even Soap said you act differently around me. I don't understand why you fucking hate me so much when almost all I ever do is try and suck up to you!” You shouted, your voice slightly slurring with how fast the words escaped your lips.

A vein bulged in Price’s temple, his jaw working with his growing temperament. “I don't know how often we have to go through this same conversation before you get it through your thick head. I don't hate you, I'm hard on you. There's a difference.”

“Well, that's not what it looks like to me. Especially not to the mystery person who just conjured a rumor that we’re sleeping together out of thin air.” You seethed, until now you'd been standing a few feet away from him. But somehow, amid the argument, you found yourself now uncomfortably close.

Price scowled down at you, “What do you want me to say to you?! That I'm sorry I also got caught up in some dumb rumor. That I'm sorry you got your feelings hurt because I was a little harsh.”

Your mind was telling you to communicate your feelings like a normal person. The alcohol and your heart told you your fist connecting with his face was the better option. And right now, your heart (plus the alcohol) was winning.

“I want you to fucking show me you don't hate me! You can say all you want that I'm just being dramatic but there's obviously a reason why I think you hate me.” You fired back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours. A scowl on Price’s lips and his eyebrows pinched together, there was something about the heat of the moment that made you more on edge. You were hyperaware of everything around you, most importantly you were hyperaware of your proximity to him. The night air was cold but you were on fire.

“You want me to show you? Fine.” He grit out, and before you had time to react he was on you.

His hand was on your neck, thick and warm. Pulling you close so that his lips captured yours in what you could only describe as ‘a hungry kiss.’ The coarse hair of his beard tickled your skin and before you even knew what you were doing, you started kissing him back.

Fuck. He tasted like smoke and whiskey, a woody smell clung to him like sap. Greedily your hands pulled at him, your fingers bunching the cotton of his shirt like he'd disappear. You'd kissed men before but never in your life had anyone kissed you like this. The kiss was hot, desperate, almost angry. His tongue slid along yours, you felt the drag of his teeth nip at your bottom lip and his throaty groan when you only pulled him closer.

You couldn't remember why he was kissing you, or why you started kissing him back. You didn't know why you were so angry, nor did you pay mind to the chance that anyone could walk outside and see the two of you.

You heard his crutch absentmindedly fall to the ground, clattering against the hard dirt. Price's other hand snaked to the back of your head, curling his thick digits into the locks of your hair. His nose brushed against yours, he felt so warm. Asshole or not this man knew how to kiss.

“[Name]!”

Gaz’s voice broke you out of the trance you seemed to have been under. Immediately you and Price tore apart, your heart jackhammered in your ribcage. You looked at Price, he looked at you.

His blue eyes were blown wide, his lips parted and shiny with the reminisce of your spit. A reddish tinge colored his ears and cheeks. He looked horrified.

You didn't fair much better. You probably looked like a gaping fish. You'd just kissed Price. Price had kissed you. You two had been kissing. Holy shit.

Footsteps snapped your attention away from him, Gaz ran to meet you. His breath heavy like he’d been running around for a good amount of time. “[Name] Price didn’t start the rumor- you left before I could tell you. I-” He stopped, his eyes darting between both you and Price. You probably looked as guilty as you felt. “I…uhm I guess you two worked it out?”

There was an awkward silence before anyone spoke, Price cleared his throat, quickly wiping his lips. “She’s aware… You two go back to the tent, it’s late. We leave early tomorrow so get a good sleep.”

You were still in shock, could you even move your limbs? Another silence hovered over the three of you like a looming dust cloud. Gaz awkwardly shuffled to you, patting your shoulder as if to say ‘party's over, let’s go.’ He nodded at Price, “Right, see you in the morning Cap.”

Before you knew it, your legs were moving as Gaz led you back to the tent. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You alright?” He said hesitantly. You didn't know what to say to him, you didn't even know what you were feeling. And you doubted saying, ‘Honestly I don't know because two seconds ago Price's tongue was down my throat and I can't tell if I'm turned on or horrified,’ was appropriate.

So, you settled for a simple: “I’m fine.” Gaz gave you a skeptical look, but he chose not to comment on it. Once you got back to the tent Soap and Ghost had already started to get into their respective cots. Soap gave you a funny look over his shoulder, “What happened to you? You look shell-shocked.” He laughed.

You didn't even have the energy to respond, giving him a disgruntled grimace in return. You fell into your cot, burying your face into the thick sleeping bag. Your cheeks burned, and the taste of Price still lingered on your lips.

Apart of you wished that you were blackout drunk, then maybe it would be easier knowing whatever happened would disappear by the morning. But his groans, his hands in your hair, his lips, they were carved into your brain. And they weren't leaving.

You had to grapple with the reality that Price had kissed you. And you had kissed him back.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, wait! Don't go!

Well… hello there. It's me again! To those of you who aren't familiar, you can call me Baebae. And to those who are welcome back! I've written fanfiction a bit before (check out my other stuff on my home page) but nothing like this. So that makes this special, and I'm happy you can join me while I embark on this new journey.

There is no spice in this chapter but it is coming in the next part. There are only two parts to this so you won’t have to wait that long. Trust me I am trying my best to crank out the next one so I’ll try my best to be quick!!

I would be so, so, so, soooo grateful if you would like, follow, or repost. Don't feel any pressure but I love hearing any feedback you can provide as I am relatively new to this and it spurs me on to know people enjoy what I put out. If you so choose you can message me or comment if you'd like me to @ you in the next part so you're notified. <3

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and I'll see you in the next part. Toodles! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part II of Captains Girl!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

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syrinq · 1 year ago

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thinking about the fact that i do like forgotton realms-adjecent (fantasy equivalent of star wars-sized ip) games but then i have to grab a broom and hit anyone appearing out of the shadows who goes "now play dnd (or any ttrpg) with me" extremely violently so they remain in the dark for another 5 million years

#HOMIE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND IT'S THE FUCKING TTRPG AND ENTIRE MEDIUM ASPECT AND MATH PART AND RANDOM WACKYNESS THAT I LOATHE #IF I PLAYED DND I WOULD BE ONE OF THOSE “BY THE RULE” NERDS BECAUSE IF YOU RANDOMLY PULL OUT A BULLSHIT WAY TO UNDERMINE THE DM'S EFFORTS #WITHOUT THEIR APPROVAL THEN GOD HELP YOU!#anyway ttrpgs arent my thing whatsoever and i'm actually surprised some people do not seem to be understanding that despite the fact #why yes. i do like fantasy and any setting very much if executed well #anyway forgotten realms lore is not one of those things. is anyone going to tell me the real gist of the 'multiverse' that really seem to b #just a case of multiple galaxies and planes/dimensions or are you just gping to throw 3 in-universe cosmology maps at me #there really should be a distinction between how it really is and in-universe explanations because that really is the way i dig it #unfortunately. i have yet to See One IP do it That Way and also explaib Why in Intricate Nice Details #I love bitches who explain Why and Cause And Effect and not just give me raw facts data numbers through historical events #yeah if you can tell me exactly why this species loathes x or y or evolved to be this way then great! i love you very much!#otherwise fuck off because no reasoning and 'it just is' reads as 'this is just cool to me' or 'im too lazy to think abt it' or the #adult bullshit excuse of 'well because i said so!'#YEAH OKAY FINE YOU DONT NEED TO EXPLAIN THE NITTYGRITTY OF EVERYTHING BUT BOY! DO I LOVE REASONING AS TO WHY SOMETHING ACTS/LOOKS/DOES/IS!#OTHERWISE? MAKES 0 SENSE TO ME. THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT #why call it forgotten REALMS if your biggest focus is one fucking continent (faerun)#this also goes for very real stuff btw. like okay i get why a game can work essentially on a stupid display because it all comes down to #sand doing math and true/false statements etcetera. but as to how consciousness forms into a growing clump of cells. who knows #i also don't understand the concept that we need opposites for fucking everything in human-made theories like newton's law #or an explanation for 'holes' in THEORETICAL frameworks. such as what dividing 0 by 0 is. and then hanging onto those frameworks as if #they're 100% real and truth. mate it's truth from the perspective of humans but i guess i'll just not go meta here. this is dumb

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mssalo · 1 month ago

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ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

part two: after hours

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own.

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident.

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years.

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through.

But Joel noticed. Every damn time.

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced.

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you.

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug.

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair.

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once.

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins.

Hell, he wanted to.

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot.

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him.

This was nothing new.

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side.

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge.

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval.

He wanted to make you proud.

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall.

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you.

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house.

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him.

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable.

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane.

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count.

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand.

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom.

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door.

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth.

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly.

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock.

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel.

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step.

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast.

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet.

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around.

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot.

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders.

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp.

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him.

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile.

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision.

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady.

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking.

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need.

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate.

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you.

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge.

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted.

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore.

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment.

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan.

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission.

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows.

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties.

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hands clumsy but desperate as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your legs.

He paused when he saw your panties, a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider.

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out.

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core.

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit.

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls.

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly.

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words.

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission.

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth.

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

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