midnightmah07

[slay-the-heroine]

I have some... Qualms?

Voice of the Prince:

Yes, thank you! I'm glad someone can say something here.

Voice of the Opportunist:

And what, do tell, is making you second guess yourself?

Voice of the Prince:

This time? Well after all we went through, I'm really not positive that she's as terrible as He — and you — are trying to convince us she is.

The Narrator:

She is, but she will pretend to be otherwise.

Voice of the Opportunist:

Exactly. Anyone can play a kind fool, if they are desperate enough. We've seen her desperation.

The Narrator:

You have? What do you mean?

Voice of the Opportunist:

By we've seen, I mean we've heard. You've made it quite clear.

The Narrator:

Have I? Huh.

Voice of the Prince:

You have got to be kidding me...

The Narrator:

I am not. There is nothing to "kid" about, here. You will do best going up there and following my directions, alright?

Voice of the Prince:

I'm not saying we should hesitate. I'm saying we should be thinking this through a little more.

Voice of the Opportunist:

Hesitation comes from stopping to think, you dolt.

The Narrator:

You proceed to the cabin.

- - -

The Narrator:

A warning, before you go any further...

The Narrator:

She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Do not believe a word she says.

Voice of the Opportunist:

Don't let her get a head-start on it. She is twisted, don't hesitate to be ruthless.

Voice of the Prince:

That sounds... Unnecessary. Whatever you think is right. Don't let yourself get pushed around.

- - -

The Narrator:

The interior of the cabin is dim and damp. Something moldy or fungal is growing in every corner; mushrooms climb the wooden walls in interweaving patterns. Everything looks vaguely covered in spores or pollen, particles hang in the air and swim around you when jostled. The floor is like mud that is halfway to becoming rock. The only furniture of note is a medium-sized, moss-covered rock in the corner of the room, with a pristine blade perched on its edge.

The Narrator:

The blade is your implement. You will need it if you want to do this right.

>>>

[softmangoes]

cabin fever | eden x defiant!pc

18+ only

summary: you finally slip free from your leash. eden finds you not long after.

includes: defiant!fem pc, captive to lovers, violence, animal death, pov switches, blood, first-aid, a very touch-starved eden

author's note: this is my very first DOL fic and of course it had to include my favorite forest husband. this was so fun to write, so please let me know what you think! 🧡

-

the large man pushes you back into the cabin before he falls to the floor with a dull thud. his hunting jacket is dark with blood flowing from an angry gash in his shoulder. you watch him, your knees stinging from scraping against the wooden planks, but he does not get back up.

behind the strands of his dirt-caked hair, you see one of his eyes trained on you.

"is this what you wanted?" he says, voice strained. "to run away?"

a part of you still wants to. with him in this vulnerable state, you're pretty sure you can.

ever since he had first dragged you into the cabin, you had spent hours weakening the leash with a flint arrowhead you managed to find near your post. finally, after days of being fucked against your will, you managed to slip free out of the cabin and into the woods.

it had not taken him long to notice you were gone. in your desperation, you did not think things through. he was a hunter, after all. of course he would find you.

and when he did, he had yanked you from the forest floor, kicking and screaming, gripping you so tightly that your shirt had ripped and your skin became bruised with his fingertips.

and now he's here in front of you, half conscious. you look at him, panting softly and bleeding out onto the floor. despite the pain he must be in, he's still staring at you.

"get away from her," he had growled to the onslaught of snapping teeth. "she's mine."

you had watched the wolf lunge onto him, sinking its teeth into his skin. in the scuffle, he had lost his grip on his rifle. you picked it up, the metal cold in your hands, before training its sight at the writhing struggle between beast and man.

in that moment, you could have ended it all. but before you could pull the trigger, you heard a sudden snap of bone. the great wolf went limp, its last breath a pained whine. with a huff, eden pushed its body off of him and took you by the collar.

"you had your chance," he said, voice hollow. "but i won't die that easily."

right now, you could get up. he could watch you leave. in his current state, it would be impossible for him to follow you.

a part of you wants to hate him, but there's something in the way he looks at you - like he's afraid, ashamed even - that makes you get on your knees and crawl to him.

"what...?" he manages.

"don't make me regret this," you say before tearing off a piece of your shirt and pressing it to the wound.

he does not cry out. blood, warm and red, wets your fingers but you do not stop. you feel his hand wrap around your wrist and for a second, you think he's going to snap it just like he did with the wolf's neck, but he just keeps it there. his palm is rough with calluses, his knuckles silvery with scars. you keep the pressure steady all while he watches you silently.

once the bleeding has stopped, you wipe your hands on your shorts and go to the kitchen to retrieve a jar of poultice and a jug of water. on the first night you spent in the cabin, you remember that he had applied some of it to cuts you sustained during your time in the forest. they had healed quickly after that.

gingerly, you unbutton his shirt to expose the wound. seeing him bare isn't anything new to you, but this was different.

"an hour ago, you wanted to kill me," he says. it's a statement, but also a question. you don't give him an answer.

his chest is sticky with drying blood, but you manage to peel away most of his shirt from the gash. he winces as you do this, grunting softly under his breath.

at the orphanage, you would bandage the little ones whenever they came crying to you with cuts and bruises. one time, robin had slipped into your room, tears in his eyes, as he held up an arm marred by a deep cut from biking too fast down a hill.

all of them had hissed in pain from your ministrations while trying to heal their affliction, but not eden. he was silent, giving you nothing else more than breathy huffs.

you wash the wound with water, watching as dirt and debris flow away. once it's clean, you apply the poultice, tearing off another strip of your shirt to wrap it around the torn flesh.

there is no fear you sense from him, no anxiety at this angry wound - only a weary resignation. it's an exhaustion that you can't help but find familiar.

--

eden was not afraid of death, but he had a hard time trying to figure out why he was still alive.

hours later, as the dawn light filtered through the window, he felt rather than saw your attempt at giving him first-aid.

it was shoddy work, but satisfactory: the result of the exhausted desperation he saw in your eyes as you worked to patch him up for reasons he could not understand.

but why?

at this point, the pain had significantly lessened due to the poultice and he could finally gather his thoughts. eden expected that your kindness would end at the last knot tied for his dressing. if there had been any moment you could have chosen to fled, last night would have been perfect.

instead, he was surprised to see your sleeping form curled up in front of the fireplace. something like relief made him relax at the sight of you, dirty but uninjured. but there. still there.

--

"you didn't leave," he says, his eyes still closed.

you blow into the wooden cup, sending curls of steam into the air. it's a simple broth you made with mushrooms from the barrel, herbs from the garden, and leftover rabbit bones and gristle leftover from a previous meal - nothing special, but nourishing enough.

"open your mouth," you instruct, bringing a spoonful of the hot soup to his lips.

earlier, you had somehow managed to prop him up with some cushions without disturbing himself and his injury. it had been a challenge - the man was so huge - but whatever was in the poultice must have kept him asleep.

he opens his mouth and lets you feed him, groaning in satisfaction as he swallows. a lock of his hair falls over his face, so you push it away and let your hand rest on his jaw to ready him for another serving. the pad of your thumb presses against a slash of soft scar tissue.

"are you okay?" you ask when his breath hitches.

eden's eyes open. they bore into you, wary. you can feel them shift from your face to your bare skin. the events of last night had ruined your shirt, so you were only in a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

"i'm fine." he licks his lips. his gaze falls on the old scar sliced across your neck, a memento from bailey. it's something the hunter would stare at often whenever he would take you. "just give me more."

hours later, you're still not sure why you're keeping him alive. perhaps you felt sorry for him, a man all alone in the wilderness. perhaps it was because if you left, there was hardly any life for you to go back to. at this point, you were definitely behind on your weekly payments, and bailey would not let that slide without making sure you would regret it.

you dip the wash cloth into the warm water, wringing it before gently wiping the hunter's face. blood and grime disappear to reveal scattered scars, a mole, and tawny skin made golden by hours in the sun.

in the weeks you had been held captive by this man, you had never seen his face this close. his features are strong - a sharp jaw, a nose that looks like it had been broken once, and cheeks framed by long locks of dark hair.

despite all the reasons he's given you not to think so, you find him beautiful.

you don't want to admit it, so you tell yourself that the heat that spreads across your face is not from seeing the strong, corded muscles of his bare chest, but the fatigue earned from another day of caring for him.

that was it. that was all.

--

when he comes to, eden sees an angel. her skin is sweet, warm. her touch is gentle, a perfect palm pressed against his forehead. she is beautiful, ethereal. a blessing.

she is everything he has never deserved.

when she opens her mouth, soft lips like fresh petals in the spring, she says, "eden, you're burning up."

the sound of his name is nothing short of salvation.

"fuck!" she says, voice drifting off into the distance. "fuck fuck fuck!"

something like glass presses against his mouth. he turns away.

"why aren't you swallowing it?" she curses. the next thing he sees is her tipping a small amber bottle to her face.

then: warmth. soft petals press against his lips and he gasps at the closeness, at her scent encompassing all of his senses. a tongue probes at his teeth and he opens himself to receive her offering.

sweet liquid fills his mouth: valerian, oregano, echinacea, honey. the taste is similar to the antibiotic tincture he keeps in his pantry.

he takes his good arm and steadies her against his body, pulling her deeper into the kiss. she makes a sound like she's surprised and he feels her hands cup his jaw. he does not deserve any of it, but he wants more. he wants all of her.

"eden," she breathes, pulling away. the angel wipes her wet mouth with the back of her hand, scarlet coloring her cheeks. she rolls off of him.

the absence of her warmth is agony, but before he can call for her, sleep takes him once again.

--

the next morning, you're on top of eden with the flint arrowhead pressed against his neck.

you do not think about the kiss. you do not think about the way he held you as you forced the medicine into his mouth.

in fact, you could end this. right now, you could take the cabin for yourself. there are enough provisions to last you until you find a way to figure out how to live here. all you have to do is -

"do it," he says, eyes clear and watching you. they look like storm clouds. like morning fog. like the water of the crystal lake where he found you.

you pause, hesitant.

for the first time since he brought you here, his eyes soften.

"someone did that to you, didn't they?" he asks, voice thick with fatigue. "they hurt you."

somehow, you know he's talking about the scar on your neck. you remember bailey pinning you to the wall, his pocketknife carving your skin after you bit him for daring to lay his hands on robin.

"i know what that's like," he says, averting his gaze. there's a note of shame in his voice. "to feel helpless."

you see the silvery scar along his jaw.

and then you break. because in the end, you are both just two animals with the same wounds.

you toss the arrowhead away and it clatters on the wooden floor. then you replace your hands at his neck with your mouth against his.

there's a moment of hesitation before he kisses you back, hungry and desperate.

"more," he growls, and you obey by pulling your bra off over your head.

you lean over him and he takes your breast into his mouth, lapping slowly at the soft bud of your nipple with his warm tongue. you mewl, tightening your thighs around his torso.

when he sinks his teeth into your skin, you gasp, taking his hair into your fist. it's going to bruise, but you don't mind.

"more," he says again, licking between your breasts. you feel his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and after a moment of shuffling, you oblige.

he grips your thighs as he lowers you down to his face, his breath hot against your wet slit.

moments after he brings his tongue to your clit, you come shaking and whimpering.

although he's fucked you more times than you can count, this is different.

before, he would never take your pleasure into account and would ram into you until he was satisfied. even then, it would not be enough for his appetite. he'd pull you to him for more, no matter how sore or hurt you were.

but now, he's licking small circles in this part of you that aches for his touch, pulling you deeper into him as you shudder. it's exhilarating. you can't get enough of it.

"eden," you breathe, your voice trembling from coming undone once again.

"mm?" he pulls away. his eyes are hazy with lust - storm clouds rolling through the sky, rumbling with thunder.

"i want you inside of me," you tell him, ready for the lightning.

gently, he guides you onto your back. the floor is still warm from his body, the cushions you placed a few days ago soft against the back of your head.

he sheds his shirt, careful not to undo the dressing. you help him unbutton his pants. there's a scar on his hip and you think about biting it.

"are you sure you'll be okay?" you ask, worried that the wound would reopen. "i don't want you to get hurt."

"i'll be fine," he says, trailing kisses along your neck. "as long as you're here to take care of me."

there's a gentleness to his voice, an implied question. you're tempted to say yes, but you're not yet quite sure.

eden presses into you, his length brushing against your clit. you grip his arms, his muscles tight under your fingers, as you moan.

"let me hear them," he breathes. his voice is soft, tender - this is not the roughness of the man who became your captor. "you were always so quiet before."

eden groans, thrusting himself into you with one long slide. his dark hair cascades over you as he lowers his body to meet yours.

"take me," you say, biting your lip at the sheer pleasure curling hot within your core. you buck your hips towards him, meeting him at the hilt. "all of me."

it's his turn to gasp. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours as he rocks his hips into you.

you kiss the scar on his jaw, tangle your fingers in his hair. the scent of him is earthy, like the forest. you wouldn't mind getting lost in him.

eden huffs, pleasure building within the both of you. you're holding him like that when you begin to come, his name whispered between your lips.

it's not long after that he climaxes, too, burrowing his face into your neck once the shaking stops.

there are a few moments of silence. you hear nothing else but the wind howling outside.

"don't run," he says. so quiet, just barely louder than the crackling of the fireplace.

your bodies are warm and sweat-slicked, glistening with the glow of your embrace.

"i'll protect you." his lips trace the scar on your neck. "i'll provide for you." his mouth brushes yours. "all you have to do is stay." when he lifts his face, you see his eyes shining in the firelight. he's desperate, and you get the sense that he will not ask again.

you think of the life you had before you were taken - the beatings, the stealing, the lying you had to do in order to survive. was it really worth going back to? could you hope to build a new future, one warm with firelight?

your hand finds his. his fingers are strong, callused, but they're gentle. they could be yours, if you want it.

to your surprise, a blush colors your hunter's cheeks. in this moment of tenderness, you find your answer.

"i'll stay," you tell him, like it's a promise. like it's a vow.

[thaleleah]

ok. let's do this!

GREAT INTRO

/You think you should have - should have let him bleed to death on the clinic floor. Would God have abandoned you if you had?/ Oh my god, what's he going to do to you girl.

/“Don’t you worry,” You say. “The Lord is here with us. He will see you through. ”Whether he groans from your words or the pain, you’re not sure./

My favorite line 😂

the way she is always reaching out to smooth his face 😭 like they already have a connection.

God, she's hyping him up not to be bad but your warnings suggest otherwise 👀 (low key here for it through)

Not her having a sad backstory 😭 billy please don't be like her father.

"the clinic can't spare two" 😏 yeah...just has to be the two of them...alone in the woods...miles from anyone else...alone...together...forever.

Sister anne break your vows for Sam! god wouldn't have made him so perfect if he didn't want you to!

HE's awake! and speaking Spanish 😍 Charming as always.

Angel is such a cute nickname for her! and it suits her so well.

"Instead, he’s looking at you, head twisting so he can see your elevated frame from his laid out position. His eyes seem to pierce into yours, so blue and intense as he watches you that it makes your breathing hitch in your throat"

hmmmm ok thats hot. baby boy has already got feelings for her.

i am so nervous for the reader to be alone with him in the cabin! She seems SO sweet. I love her.

i just have a couple of questions to help me world build:

-does the reader wear the full nun outfit with the head piece and the cross?

-what type of outlaw is Billy in your story:

-poor/rich

-serial/ made one mistake

-alone/ in a group

-loving being an outlaw/ wanting to quit it'

If you're going to flesh this out in part 2, forget I asked. I can be patient.

LOVED this story, bestie! looking forward to part 2.

AAHHHHHHH IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT, BESTIE 🧡

God, she's hyping him up not to be bad but your warnings suggest otherwise 👀 (low key here for it through) She's so naive 😂 He plays her so well cause its like mostly truth but also a huge fucking lie lol. So far, in my mind, its like he's a good person - he tries to be good and wants to be good, but he's capable of being terrible and has these dark qualities about him too that make him bad. Plus with his severe lack of faith and near hatred for God, the fact that she's a nun is soooooo not a problem for him lol

"the clinic can't spare two" 😏 yeah...just has to be the two of them...alone in the woods...miles from anyone else...alone...together...forever. Seeeeee? You get it 😏

Sister anne break your vows for Sam! god wouldn't have made him so perfect if he didn't want you to! The way I made Sam so perfect 😩 Accidentally fell in love myself lolll. That man deserves the world but he settles for crumbs. AND he would give them away if Sister Ann told him too 😭

HE's awake! and speaking Spanish 😍 Charming as always. BILLY SPEAKING SPANISH MAKES MY THIGHS SHAKE I SWEAR

-does the reader wear the full nun outfit with the head piece and the cross? Yes! That's how I imagine her anyway. Not really sure what the outfit would have been during that time for sure, but I'm pretty sure it was something similar at least. So, basically the long tunic, the rope/cord tied around her waist, the head covering/veil to cover her hair, and then the rosary.

-what type of outlaw is Billy in your story? I don't think this is really a spoiler for my fic so I'll answer. (This IS a spoiler if you don't know anything about Billy the Kid's life though outside of the show sooooo idk maybe this is a spoiler for the show?) So I'm basing this off of after Billy is "killed". Irl, after he does the Lincoln County war and all that stuff, he ends up getting shot and killed by Sheriff Pat Garrett. Where he stumbles into the clinic shot is the aftermath of that scene instead of him dying. I changed the bullet wound spot to make it a little more likely that he would have survived and been able to make it to the clinic.

poor/rich So at that point, I think he would have been kinda in the middle maybe financial wise? Def not rich, but I think he probably would still have some money stashed away from the hefty paychecks he was getting when working for the House. That's my thought anyway lol.

serial/ made one mistake Billy's the definition of "good person forced to do bad things to survive". His family died when he was still in his teens so he was on his own with nothing and had to steal and rustle cattle in order to get money. Plus he killed people and escaped jail a couple times sooooo 👀

alone/ in a group At this point he's mostly alone, but he has a lot of friends or acquaintances that he can call on or stay with if he needs too.

loving being an outlaw/ wanting to quit it Little bit of both. He's wanted to be a good person and "go straight" for so long but life didn't work out for him like that and at this point when the fic starts, I'm picturing him fully embracing the outlaw life more as an inevitable and not fighting it

I hope all that made sense. Thanks for your comments, bestie! Made my day! 🧡