#suddenly realizes what he is a child. lost in the woods with nothing but darkness around

[maegalkarven]

I'm thinking about Isobel who came back from the dead a hundred years later, who came back to the lands cursed and her father fallen into madness.

Who eminates a barely indistinguishable whiff of rot and Myrkul's power. Who was touched by the forces so repulsing she wishes she has never come back.

And who still has Moonmaiden's favor and her blessing.

Like by all means Selûne had every right to punish Isobel for her father's sins, esp considering what Isobel is, undeniably, the cause of Ketheric turning into the villain he became. Or rather, her death is.

Instead Selûne grants her enough power to battle the curse and create a small safe harbor amidst darkness. More power than the most have, as priest of Selune!Tav might comment.

Instead Selûne favors her, loves her.

Isobel is the indirect reason Aylin is enslaved and the lands are dying under the curse, and Selûne never turns her back on her.

Idk it just makes me emotional

[belokhvostikova]

Have you guys seen that clip of Deborah Ann Woll teaching John Bernthal Dungeons and Dragons? Because that's how I imagine Eddie Munson learning, thus teaching you...

As young as can be, sitting in the lonesome of his yard, father nowhere in sight for days to come. There's always a boy. A much older one. Probably in high school. Eddie likes to watch him. He's got crazy hair, tattoos of devilish designs, a cigarette in hand, beer in the other, with a band tee to brandish his look. The overall stamp of approve in Eddie Munson's book- not that a ten-year-old is cool enough to have one, though, if Eddie was, the teenager next door would get it. So slowly, over some weeks, Eddie gains the tendency to pick up the distress t-shirts at the thrift store, and perhaps explores the music he so frequently hears come from the trailer over. It's nothing like his mother's, but the thrashing screams help with the raging thoughts.

So, back to the yard. Summer had been abusive. And a town or two next over, Wayne was pummeling to race over to save his nephew from boiling alive in the tin rectangle that lost its AC and a father figure to fix it. Wayne had made Eddie swore over the phone to stay outside under the shade of a tree. It's probably when the older boy first sees him. Yeah, he's seen the quiet kid around the trailer park, but for once, he's seeing the quiet kid with an asshole of a father, sweltering in the darkness of a t-shirt that oddly resembles his own Iron Maiden one.

Water was the first of an offer. "Hey! You, uh, need something to cool down a bit?" And as gnarly as he was believed to be to the child, Eddie remained silent to the offer, despite the ache for it. But the young man wasn't one to blame the young boy, so slowly, he approached. "Don't have to die out here, kid, could get you a fan if needed?" Nothing. "Folks around?"

Al? Al Munson? Around? Yeah, even the high schooler realized how stupid he sounded asking. But shitty fathers wasn't anything new to him, had a couple of his mother's boyfriends to even add to the experience, which was probably what inclined him to have a seat next to Eddie's hunched stature. "Killed an owlbear last week." Words may not have came out, but the furrow in Eddie's brows was quite a reaction. The guy laughed. "Y'know, D&D? You ever play?"

Dungeons and Dragons? Pardon his French, but that nerd shit? Wasn't this guy supposed to be cool? "Don't give me that look, twerp, can't knock it 'til you try it." A corner of Eddie's lips almost upturned. "Let's play.”

Spoken so faintly, "What...?" Christ, that kid was in need of water.

"Like, right now, let's play. Let's see, you," a point to Eddie's chest, "you gotta bow, on your back, strapped in- hell, and a sword and dagger at your hilt, right?"

"Uh-"

"Don't question it, just imagine it." The nicotine of his breath emphasized. "It's dark in the woods, isn't it? Nighttime, with almost no light, right? The moonlight can barely peak through the sea of trees, but that doesn't stop you from walking." And he watches Eddie's eyes fall to the telling of his story. "But... you hear a crack. It's something large. You can feel it. What would you do?"

Eddie seeks for the validation. "First thing?" And the teenager nods. "How far away is the crack?" Then, there's the smile. The hook, the teen calls it in his mind. "Perception check. We roll the dice, and let's say you roll a thirteen, and hell, you seem like a perceptive kid," the young man alludes to the similar taste of clothing Eddie's suddenly acquired, "that's a plus three, now sixteen. No need for me to tell you the insights, man, you know it's about twenty feet away."

"Then... then, I want to take out my bow first." Eddie rationalizes. "A-And I'm gonna aim."

And there's a light noticeable within Eddie, the high schooler can tell. "Okay, now, slowly creepin' at you, suddenly into view, you see its bit of eyeshine, in the darkness, you see an owlbear." Eddie smiles. "Ten to fifteen feet," the man acts out, "a monster so extraordinary, with the look of an owl, but a stature as great as a bear. It's squawking at you... what do you do?"

The curiosity sits up within Eddie. "Have I ever met an owlbear before?"

"History check."

"I have a history?" Eddie quizzes.

"You have a life, kid." Those words, something within had lit up inside Eddie. "This is D&D, you're playing D&D!"

"But how do I win?" His peculiar eyes rounded.

And a smile greeted him on the other end. "You don't. The goal's not to win, it's to tell a great story." Eddie sat back. "If this one isn't doing it for you," and gaudy rings on the young man's finger pointed to the likes of the trailer park, "make your own. It's what I do." He shrugged. "Don't keep your shitty life a shitty life. You could be sword fighting dark wizards in enchanted forests instead of waiting for next bad thing to happen." And Eddie listened. "Make your own life."

By the time Wayne’s pick-up truck had arrived, Eddie Munson had killed the owlbear.

And perhaps, in a few years’ time, about nine or ten, Eddie comes across a lost soul, too. Well, maybe not lost, per se, just allergic to the hierarchy of high school that he’s unfortunately been subjected to for far too long. Not exactly here or there with that group or the other, simply floating by without a notice- well, mostly.

There was some notice of your hair, the quite nice hair you got there, how you, uh, how you had it. Y-Your teeth, too, uh, pretty cool teeth. Made your smile kinda nice- well, not kinda, very nice- but not nice in a creepy way, y’know, nice in a good way… yeah.

Eddie swallowed thickly.

“Thanks.” You bluntly muttered back, returning to your task of retrieving dusty books from the desolate library.

“Oh, you like Lord of the Rings, I love Lord of the Rings!” It was worn, spine creased with no care- or maybe too much care. “Y’know, with the, uh, elves and shit, love ‘em.” You eyed him, and suddenly Eddie was plotting his own demise. Why he chose to speak as if he’d never read the book, he would never know, but words were spewing, and unfortunately, you were being drenched in the vomit of his nerves.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” You chuckled off in amusement.

But, nonetheless, you were ready to walk away from the oddity of Eddie Munson, as Hawkins High, in of itself, was weird enough for your liking.

“I killed a owlbear once.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face the metalhead, who bounced on the balls of his feet. Yeah, impressive, you swore the look on his face said. “What’d you just say?” Interest piqued.

“Wanna play D&D with me?���

Maybe you liked his weird…

[arcticwolfpaws]

Gotham's light

Chapter 3

Faraj's pov

A screeching noise startled me awake, I scrambled to find and shut off the cursed noise before it made my ears bleed, I finally found the stupid little box and unplugged it, I put a hand on my chest trying to calm my hammering heart, after my ears stopped ringing I let out a soft squeak, finding the lay out of the room, I picked up the glasses on the bed side table and took a deep breath I remembered getting these and knew there was going to be an expectation that I wear them, I took a deep breath before putting them on it was strange to have everything suddenly come in to focus. I stood for a moment before looking around feeling dazed. The room was far more luxurious then my sonar had me thinking, The bed was large enough to get lost on and large antique looking wardrobe stood near the door an elegantly caved chest sat near the foot of the massive bed, all pulled to gather by a large fluffy rug.

“Where the hell am I?” I asked myself softly, I moved to the door closet to my bed and found a bath room, I used the mirror to check and see if I could find any signs of a needle but nothing…. The past hell I didn’t even know how long was a blur, taking a quick shower I tried to use it to clear my head.

Once I was dressed for the day I headed out of the room , the hallway was near empty a long rug down the center over dark hard wood, I noticed a few tabled half way down with picture frames on it, I quickly walked up hoping to be able get some idea of who I was with as no faces were clear in my mind beyond the blue man I had been left with originally, the picture was that of what looked like a singer father and his young son. A door opened and a young man stepped out his dark hair and blue eyes making it hard to tell if he’d been the man in the picture or the child.

“Oh… you must be Faraj. I’m Dick.” His voice was cheerful even in it’s deep rumble. I blinked and spoke without thinking.

“Good lord your parents must have hated you.” he laughed and walked up patting my shoulder, I was glad he at least had a sense of humor,

“Well at least you don’t live up to the name.” He grinned as he walked past me stopping when I didn’t follow him.

“Come on kiddo, I’ll show you around.” Kiddo? What was I fiv- oh wait… they didn’t know…. That’s good. I followed after him disturbed when I realized he made very little sound as he walked. I’d have to keep an ear out for him.

After a brief tour of the massive manor we sat down at in the dinning room for breakfast the man from the photo I guessed and… Jason, I recognized his voice but I couldn't pin point where from, likely from that time blur I had and that was going to frustrate me quickly.

The table was quiet for a long moment Dick staring at The older man who was staring at me As the butler a kindly looking old man set a fruit salad in front of me. I had no idea if he had known that it was my favorite or not but it had me ignoring the looks I was getting and chowing down.

“Are you going to tell him or should I?” Dick’s voice had been in a low whisper clearly not something I should have heard but with a mutation like mine it was impossible not to, however in order not to give myself away I kept quiet. I heard the older man sigh before speaking in a hesitant tone.

“Faraj… I got the results from that D.N.A Test back.” His tone was low and careful but now I was scrambling through my memory as I didn’t remember giving any kind or permission for anything of the like,

“Eh?” Was all I could muster as a response my mind racing. Had I let him? Did he take what he needed while I was a sleep? And why the fuck was so much of my memory so damn foggy?

“I’m your father…” I choked, having to cough I noticed as Dick stand in case I needed help,

“Maybe while he was eating wasn’t a great time.” Jason said sounding amused as I struggled to breath properly.

“What?” I asked looking back up at the older man, he just nodded and the butler placed an envelope in front of me. It had already been torn open but I didn’t care as I reached inside and read the results myself. What even? Is Mr. Wilson aware of this? If so why was I left with the blue man and not here? Hell how did I even get here.

“Faraj?” Bruce’s voice was soft with concern, I only knew his name now due to the results, I shook my head still trying to processes this new information and I slowly spoke.

“This...This isn’t funny.” I stated the disbelief settling in my gut, Bruce frowned at me for a moment and opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it again. It was the butler that spoke in a gentle low voice.

“No, young master there is no joke being told. And might I say if there was it would be a most unfunny one.” I had never thought I would meet my father, I knew my mother was… well less ideal but the thought of an assassin having a child with some no name business man?

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” Bruce prompted and I shook my head hard trying to sort my own thoughts out, Did I have questions? Well yes but none of them felt like I could ask but I needed to come up with something… anything.

“W-what happeneds now?” My voice had come out much smaller then I intended, Bruce smiled softly as he cleared his throat,

“Well, first we finish getting your room set up some of the things we ordered should be coming into day, Then we need to set up the spring gala here at the manor, we’ll introduce you to the public, I figure I’ll just say I kept you away from the public eye so you could live in peace. But for that you’ll need a suite, We’ll get that tailored…” Geeze I guess he’d really been thinking about this… If I were a normal kid, I’d be over whelmed with all this but honestly, I could appreciate that he had this all thought out. Dick elbowed him in the side and cleared his throat.

“That’s not what he meant,” Dick hissed and Bruce looked confused before taking a breath,

“Hopefully not much from as they are now but I will need you to not break anyone’s bones while you’re at school.” He stated and I hummed softly, I didn’t remember braking bones but depending on the bone it could be quiet easy.

“Right…. Sorry.” I mumbled hoping it made me look sweeter then I was, Jason spoke up reaching over to put a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry I’ll handle any bully you have, After all we’re brothers now.” He stated, honestly I really didn’t need anyone defending me, I just needed blackmail but I knew I’d have to deal. I gave him a nod and a small smile.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Bruce hadn’t been lying about about everything he wanted to do, The decorating was being done by Dick and Bruce while The butler, Jason and myself worked on constructing my desk. I was never much of a carpenter so I was happy to let Jason work with the hammer while I handed him the pieces, we worked to gather to flip it up. I hummed as I tested the roll top and the drawers.

“Seemed like we got it right.” I stated and Jason ran a hand through his hair,

“Yeah seems like it” He stated a soft smile on his face

“I think you handle a hammer pretty well.” He chuckled at me and spoke,

“You think I’m good? You should meet Roy.” That name… I knew a roy, my heart hurt he’d been my first friend and now? I don’t think I’d ever see him again.

“Hey you okay?” Jason asked putting a hand on my shoulder causing me to jump,

“Huh? Oh.. I umm I’m fine just thinking it’s nothing.” I mumbled shaking my head as the butler pushed the box closer to me, I started digging through it not really aware of what I picked but most of it seemed accurate to my taste this box was mostly cloths but at the bottom I found some books and hummed softly as I set them up on the desk.

“Chemistry of tomorrow? Criminal Assassin? Bats and other nocturnal creatures? What on earth are you researching?” He asked I frowned at him and sighed before shaking my head.

“I’m not, I like bats, and chemistry.” I told him and he huffed and held up the assassin book,

“And the assassins?” He asked I shrugged,

“I dunno looked intresting,” I paused for a moment looking at the book for a second then sighed and set the book down.

“Alright fair enough.” he mumbled setting it down as we opened another box,

“I think we have it from here thanks Alfred,” I was quick to make a mental note of the butler’s name.

“Yeah, we can do this.” I added and he nodded before heading out of the room he left the door open as he did leave.

“So… what exactly are you hiding?” Jason’s question and I looked up at him blinking, I didn’t really have an answer for him because the truth was… I was hiding everything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and what could I possibly even want to hid? It’s nice here and I like it here, I’m not going to risk ruining it with secrets.” He grumbled at me but I stuck to that, I’d keep the innocent act to the best of my ability. He sighed at me and shook his head before speaking,

“Alright, But I’ve got my eye’s on you.” He stated and I blinked and looked down at my shirt,

“But I don’t see any eyes on me.” He groaned and I bit back a chuckle,

“Smart ass” he grumbled and I smiled at him,

“I was unaware my ass had an intelligence level.” I put my hand to my chin as if I was thinking and he groaned loudly,

“Alright, listen here you little shit. I know your hiding something and I’m going to find out what it is.” I blinked at him I thought it was funny. But I really didn’t think that he’d find anything about on me.

[blackjackkent]

Aylin and Isobel are chilling together in a corner of the camp. Of the post-Act 2 convos this is the one I'm most interested in. Because let's be real, Shadowheart needs some answers, and she needs them yesterday.

And she is here to demand them.

"What do you know about me? You spoke of my past, being chased by wolves. I told no one about that..." Her eyes flick to Hector for a fraction of a second. "Almost no one. But I certainly didn't share that with you."

Aylin looks at her with that peculiar otherwordly intensity which seems to be her default state. "There is nothing I can tell you that you do not already know yourself," she says. "They trained you well, trained you hard. Chiselled away any part of you that did not fit their plan. They made you forget."

Shadowheart's eyes flare defensively. "I chose to do that," she snaps. "For the mission. To protect Shar's--"

"--secrets. Yes, yes," Aylin says calmly. "That is an old song, girl. Your goddess cares more for her precious secrets than she does her devotees."

"Get to the point," Shadowheart snaps, shifting uncomfortably.

"When you freed me," Aylin says, "you severed a bond between me and that dog, Thorm. A bond of pain - his, inflicted on me. When I laid eyes on you, I sensed a similar bond. You, tethered to two others, someplace distant. Let me help you remember."

Hector is standing off to the side, listening to this conversation; he is concerned for Shadowheart, but it is not his business to interfere. So he's surprised when he suddenly feels the tadpole in his head squirm eagerly, still a strange sensation even after all these months.

Narrator: You feel Shadowheart's mind tug at the edges of your own. You know this sensation. She wants you to see whatever is about to be revealed.

He blinks, startled, and a wave of unexpected warmth rushes through him. He and Shadowheart have had their share of quarrels in the time they've traveled together, but he has always been concerned for her well-being, and she wants him here for this, present with her, as a support for whatever is to come.

It means more to him than he suspects he will ever be able to say out loud.

Open your mind to that sensation.

Narrator: Your mind joins with Shadowheart's. Something pulls at you both, bringing you elsewhere...

They are back in the memory Shadowheart showed him once before. The young girl lost in the woods. The wolf with its slavering jaws. The Sharrans closing ranks around her, protecting her...

Only this time it is different. The wolf is not a wolf...but a man.

Where the wolf stood previously in the dream is now a fallen elf with deep black hair, surrounded by the Sharrans with their spears drawn, cutting him off from the girl. One of them strikes a blow across his head and he falls still.

And the girl, her eyes full of fear, is led by one of the cloaked figures back into the dark.

Narrator: You remember that it is a common rite amongst Selune's followers to send their children off into the woods to find their way home. Perhaps this time it had gone awry. It seems that one child never came back. She was taken.

The vision clears, and Hector finds himself staring at Shadowheart, who has gone even paler than normal.

"What... who was that man?" she whispers.

"You already know," Aylin says gently. "Did you not see yourself in him? Do you not recognize your own blood?"

Shadowheart swallows. Almost without realizing it, she reaches out, gripping one hand on Hector's forearm to steady herself. "My father?" she says faintly. "That was him?"

"That *is* him," Aylin corrects her. "He lives still. And your mother too."

Shadowheart begins to shake her head desperately. "No. It can't be. I'm an orphan."

"And who told you that?" The sentence snaps out of Aylin like a burst of thunder, a roll of drums - a call to action. "Your adoptive family?" She shakes her head in answer. "You are not to blame. You were young, impressionable. They took you because they wanted to break and remake you." She steps forward, puts a hand on Shadowheart's shoulder and stares into her eyes intently. "But you are a child no longer. You are a woman. One who knows what must be done."

Shadowheart hesitates. Her back straightens a little, her shoulders stiffening. She looks towards Hector, and he can see the lost look in her eyes warring with something that might be determination - or hope. "My parents. I... need to save them..."

It would be very easy to crow over her in this moment. To point out the ascendency of the Moonmaiden over Shar, that Shadowheart herself was born a Selunite. But he would never, in a thousand years, say such a thing. She knows; she sees the situation as clearly as he does, and has had no time to process it.

"I'll help," is all he says. Because of course he will. There is no question of it.

He can see the way the gesture of support takes hold in her. She smiles, just slightly, and her jaw sets with more assurance.

"Your parents are with your abductors," Aylin says crisply. "You will need to return to their lair. But be warned. You may have once thought of them as comrades, mentors, friends, even lovers. They will all be enemies now."

She tilts her head thoughtfully at the younger woman. "You have been forewarned for what its to come. But not yet forearmed."

Her hands twist before her in some sort of divine incantation, and a spear sizzles into being in her grip.

Not just a spear, actually. The spear - the Spear of Night which Shadowheart tossed aside at the moment of her betrayal of Shar.

Observe silently.

"The Spear..." Shadowheart murmurs. "How do you have it? I threw it into the Shadowfell."

Aylin smiles, without humor. "Shar is quick to discard whatever she has no use for. I think you know that well enough. But I felt it call to me as I took flight. Whatever Shar calls her own, Selune has equal claim to. They are one and the same. Their power is matched, and mirrored."

She holds out the spear to Shadowheart, the pale glow of moonlight shimmering through the handle around her fingers. "Take it; you will find it useful. What you do with it - that will be up to you. Same as before."

"I'll... need every advantage, it seems," Shadowheart says cautiously. "Thank you."

"A debt repaid," Aylin says gravely. "You returned my life unto me. Now go and claim your own."

As Shadowheart's fingers close over the haft of the spear, there's a bright flash of light over the back of her hand, and she flinches, cries out softly with the pain. "Nngh. It hurts..."

Hector scowls tightly. Even now, Shar still seeks to crack the whip over her, after everything that has happened?

Aylin looks towards him, and he sees his disgust mirrored in the aasimar's face. "Shar torments you still," she says quietly to Shadowheart, and there's a ripple of anger under the words now. "What a spiteful creature she is. This will not stop until you take action. See that your parents' sacrifices are not in vain. Allow the Moonmaiden to guide you at last."

[warlock-enthusiast]

 “Okay, show me.”

Prompt number: 3 Fanfiction Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 (pre game and self indulgent character background nonsense about being chosen by a Fey Lord) Rating: PG Characters: Tav (Elisen Adfaren) Warnings: non apply

The woods around her sang. Leaves swirled through the air and left impressions of golden browns. She heard a sweet melody, but did not understand where it might be coming from. Left, right, the air seemed to carry the sound for miles. Elisen stood in the middle of a clearing and wondered if she’d gone mad. As a child of the forest there has always been something wild about her, something that forbade her from joining polite society. Wondering where she came from and how she ended here offered nothing more than headaches and she pushed such thoughts to the side. 

She’d lived in this forest for many years now and barely talked to other living souls. Animals seemed to like her though and shared their heat during cold nights.

Leaves landed on her shoulder and Elisen touched the fading color. Green slowly turned brown. Summer turned into autumn around her and she knew that she must soon find shelter, before the storms froze the air. She was not a child anymore, but also not a fully grown adult, which was why some parts of the wild were more dangerous than others. Especially during the long nights of winter.

A fluttering of wings caught her attention and she saw small, bright points dancing in the sky. Pixies. They giggled and the sound reminded her of bells. Elisen knew that they preferred these parts, because the veil between dimensions seemed thin and there were always lost souls to antagonize. Their jokes were often cruel, seldom deadly and they had never been so close to her. 

Even Elisen knew that you should not trust them and still seemed intrigued by their beautiful wings. 

One of them finally dared to approach her, close enough to see her small face and the smile residing on her lips. She wore a dress made of tulips and her skin changed depending on her surroundings. A deep blue, a light turquoise. 

“Someone wants to meet you.” Elisen shook her head, trying to understand what she was saying.

The pixie laughed and zipped away, but her voice still sounded inside of Elisen’s head. “Follow me, little one. It will be worth it.”

Finding all of her bravery, she stepped towards. Was that another trick? Another joke? Today felt different and the music has never stopped. It tugged at her heart and goaded her forwards. 

 “Okay, show me.” Her bare feet barely touched the ground as she ran after her. 

Elisen did not realize that the world suddenly changed around her. Colors became clearer and more intense. The air was warm and the music loud enough to make her head hurt. She still walked through a forest, but these trees looked unnatural and nothing like the ones that she grew up with. Slender and smooth with leaves in all colors of the rainbow. She caught glances of the sky above her and even that seemed different. 

The pixie was lost from her sight, but Elisen reached another clearing and a shadow emerged from the treeline. 

A tall man stood before her. Taller than anyone that she had ever seen. His eyes were made of darkness and dangerously deep, while his skin held the color of oak and amber. Dark hair tumbled over his shoulders and he wore a cloak made out of leaves. 

Her reached out towards her. “You’ll become a knight of my Court like your mother before you, Elisen.”

She took his hand, knowing that she had finally found her home. 

[kingofsting]

Dark Shadows: Chapter 2: A new face

Aria's P.O.V We left the castle, luckily the guards didn't notice so we got out easily. We followed Merla to where the figure was standing.

"Why would someone stand here to watch the ceremony?" Zara asked.

"Maybe because the thing wants to kill you I don't know." I snap.

"Oh well excuse me for not knowing everything about killers!"

We glare at each other, and I think to myself, this is gonna be a long trip. Before I can snap back, Zara's fox Flare jumps off her shoulder and sniffs the ground. A second later, it jumps and does a swan dive into the ground and tunnels away.

"And you say you don't get my bird?!"

"She picked up their trail, she wants us to follow her, come on." Zara says and dashes after her.

"Well that makes it easier I guess." I ran after Zara and her freakin fox drill.

It goes for about a quarter mile till it stops at the town entrance and yeets itself out of the ground, landing on Zara's shoulder, somehow completely dirt free...I need tips from that fox for Merla.

"So I'm guessing your fox lost the scent?" I ask.

"No she smelt a burger nearby, yes she lost the scent." She replies.

I swear I'm about to bitchslap royalty.

"Anyways, it hasn't been long, it might still be in the town. Let's look around and find it." She says.

"BUT, you.stay.behind.me. Ok? I don't want to be responsible if you get hurt." I tell her, and I'm NOT changing my mind.

Zara rolls her eyes. "Fine, jeez, your acting like my father."

"Hey, at least someone needs to," I mutter to myself.

We walk into the town and begin looking for anyone with a cloak. Still, without getting a great look at the person or the color of his coat, or even his face, no one fits the profile. We walk around for about half an hour, and still nothing. We walked into the middle of town to an open area. Apparently, hunters have captured a live moose.

"Nothing yet, he could be long gone by now," I mutter to myself, but I get a small nagging feeling someone's watching us. I whistle for Merla and have her fly over the town to see if she spots anything.

"Your fox-miner get anything?" I ask Zara.

"Her name's Flare, and no she hasn't yet." She replies.

"Ok, well wait for Merla to do a look around for a bit then we'll try and get its scent with her, if that works, we might need a carriage if the person left."

As we walk through the town, I get a sense that something is wrong. I keep my hand near my dagger and look over at Zara. She looks as casual as can be, and not like she could get kidnapped any minute now. We keep walking around till I realize we've been walking in circles.

"Ok this is going nowhere. We haven't found any leads and we don't know where the fuck we are going. Well at least I don't. We're going back to the castle and I'm coming back here tomorrow BY MYSELF. Don't argue with that." I tell her.

As Zara's about to argue, we hear people cursing. I turn and see the people trying to keep the cage closed, but the moose breaks from the cage and starts BARRELING towards us like someone tried to stab it. I draw my dagger, but I don't know, what the fuck am I gonna do, run?! Fight!? It's a fucking moose!!!

It's about to hit us when suddenly, a cloaked man gets in between us and the moose, and it just stops...just like that, like he held a belt to a child and stopped whatever he was doing. He pets its head, and the moose calms down and walks out toward the woods. Then the man turns around and looks at the two of us, and I'm very on edge.

I see a man who looks about my age with a white coat which I can only describe as something a pirate might wear, like a swashbuckler or something with black accents, the hood up that looks a brighter white than the rest of the coat, black shirt, pants, black and brown boots, and a black fabric mask over his mouth and nose so I only see his light brown eyes, and from what I can make out, black hair. He looked behind me and raised an eyebrow.

"What. Do you need something?"

He silently points a finger behind me, and I turn around to see Zara missing.

"Oh my fucking god, where the fuck did she go?"

I can't yell out her name because the town will go fucking crazy, and news like this will spread very quickly. Then clears his throat and points to a small stand, and Zara's just hiding behind it. She was gonna let me fight a fucking moose by myself that BIT- oh wait, I told her to stay behind me and I'll do everything.....fuck her for listening to me for once.

I use a hand gesture to tell her to stay where she is, and she nods her head. I turn around and look at his coat, and it seems very familiar till I realize that it's the same guy who was in the shadows earlier. I grab my dagger and hold it to his throat, and I calmly say, "You are coming with me back to the castle, and if you don't comply, I won't hesitate to slice off your dick and feed it to my raven. You got that?"

He glared at me, and before I could react, he took my dagger, flipped me around by my arm, and shoved me away...Oh, this bitch bouta DIE.

"Ok I have A LOT of pent up anger because of that girl in the stand. You just made it fucking worse."

I grab my twin daggers and get ready to take this bitches to head off, and this bitch just turns one shoulder towards me and doesn't move like I'm just an annoyance...the AUDACITY. I run full speed because I have some aggression to let out, and the second I swing, he sidesteps it, grabs my arm, and judo-flips me onto my back. I go in full-on hashing and slashes, and he just catches my daggers...I thought this bitch was crazy till I noticed he had a weird claw thing on, and he kicked me in the gut knocking me away, and casually put his arms down.

"Ok, daggers are out," I put them away and grab my scythe chains. "Let's see you block these mother fucker."

And this bitch..this bitch. PUTS AWAY HIS WEAPONS, and just casually stands there.....I didn't think someone would piss me off more than the brat queen, but apparently, I was wrong. "OH, YOU COCKY BITCH!!!" I shout as I swing the chains at him, and this bitch just dodges it like it's high school dodgeball. I start letting out ALL my aggression, and I can't land a single thing, and I'm just getting MORE AGGRESSION TO USE ON THIS BITCH!!!!!

I swing them around into the sky, and I bring them down on him like Thor's fucking hammer, and he catches them both with some struggle from the impact. "You are very persistent," is the first thing he says, and I don't even have time to be pissed because he flips my chains around, spins around, and steps on them, and I get YEETED towards him as he grabs me and kicks me onto the fucking ground right in front of Zara, but I flip and land on my feet.

I decide, "Fine, hand to hand it is," and charge him again. I throw a punch, and he deflects it, clearly more of a defense and counter-fighting style. He throws a punch of his own as I block it and drop down and kick upwards, he jumps back, but I don't give him room to breathe as I keep attacking. We go back and forth for a while till he throws an uppercut, and I dodge it and hit him in the pressure point of his neck, and he stumbles back a bit. Any normal person would've crumpled after that, so I gotta respect him for only being stunned briefly. He holds his neck and cracks it, loosening up.

"Your good." He says I don't even have time to ready myself because one moment he's standing five feet away from me, the next I'm hit five times and on the floor with the wind knocked out of me as he holds me on the ground with his foot on my gut, leaning down towards me. 

"Not so bad yourself." I reply when I can breathe.

Suddenly we hear things fall over, and I see Zara knock a few cans over. The man looks at me, then at Zara, then back at me. He releases me, and I throw myself up on my feet, and I'm ready to fight him again because I am a stubborn bitch, but I feel a hand gripping my arm. I turned around to see Ace standing behind me, and I stared at him, wondering when he got here. "Firstly...WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU BRING THE PRINCESS HERE!?!?!?!?" He shouts, angry.

"Will you shut up and not be so loud! I don't want people to know that she's here! And don't yell at me. You said for her to be by my side at all times, did you not?" I rebut, crossing my arms. "I didn't mean to chase after someone who you were gonna fight. You're supposed to PROTECT her, not BRING HER TO DANGER!!!"

"You think I wanted her to be here?! She is almost more annoying when she begs than Richie. She even threw a fucking dagger at me, when I said that I tried to leave without her I mean I tried. Trust me. And by the way, when the fuck did you get here?"

"She's hiding behind MY stand."

I look to where she is hiding, and I see her sitting on the stand, smiling like she won some kind of award.

Oh, that little brat. She's dead when she gets to the castle.

"I know what your thinking and no you're not killing her, not that you almost did that already with THIS one," Ace says, pointing at the cloaked figure that's been standing by Zara talking to her.

I look at them and back at Ace and say, "What the hell is going on? I don't even know anymore. How are they friendly? Isn't he trying to kill her or something? And why is she talking to a random stranger that kicked my... I mean... uh... that I beat up? Can I just go back to the guild? I'm getting gray hairs from all this stress like you for god's sake."

"One, the moment you come back to the guild, Your on probation for the next three missions, two, he completely kicked your ass. I saw everything, let it go, three, I don't know what th...OH MY GOD, WHY'D YOU LET HIM TALK TO HER?!?!?!" He shouts, just now processing they were talking.

"I DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS GOING TOO!!!" "WHY'D YOU LET HIM GET NEAR HER HE JUST KICKED YOUR ASS LIKE IT WAS CHILD PLAY WHAT DO YOU THINK SHE CAN DO?!?!"

"BECAUSE YOUR HERE BITCHING TO ME! And also when the fuck did you get a stand?"

"I've had it for a while. I have to make a living somehow without the guild, ALSO YOU NEED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THOSE TWO!"

"YOU DO SOMETHING!!!"

We both bolt towards them, weapons drawn.

"Wait!" Zara yells, but the figure calmly says, "It's ok," and once again, this bitch disarms BOTH of us. He simply grabs my arms and holds my wrists together while grabbing Ace by the face and

lifting him in the air since he didn't fight him previously, Ace took my gun from my holster and tried to aim it, but the cloaked man dismantled it in a few seconds making it useless...not gonna lie I kinda enjoyed seeing him dangling thereafter he was bitching at me.

"Now, are you two done?" he asks.

"Yeah, they are," Zara says.

"Bitch you don't tell me when I'm done." I snap.

"Oh ok do you wanna try him again, I'm sure he'd be happy to lay you out again. Plus im the queen...so i kinda do."

Now I can't tell who I hate more, the brat bitch or the boy bitch. Im fuckin torn. He puts Ace down, "I'm not here to fight, but you attack me again, i will drop you, got it?" 

Ace and I both look at each other, and I know what he's gonna say, and I REALLY don't want to get bitched at again.

"Fine," I say, putting my daggers back. "We won't-" AND ACE THROWS A SUCKER PUNCH AT THE BITCH!!!!! He catches it, of fucking course he does, but what the fuck Ace?!?!?!

"I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA TALK IT OUT LIKE YOU ALWAYS SAY TO????" I scream in frustration.

"I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA TAG TEAM HIM, THAT'S ALL YOU DO IS FIGHT! WHY IS THIS ONE TIME I THINK LIKE YOU DO AND YOU THINK LIKE ME?????"

And the second he said that I remembered, I said the same thing to Zara...wow, now I know how Ace feels around me...damn. Before I can say shit, though, the dude chops Ace's neck, and he's out like a light, literally like he flicked a damn switch just, click, then he just picks him up and puts him on his stand like nothing happened.

Then he and Zara have a chat and walk off, and the stands a wreck, and where did the moose g- "HEY, WAIT, GET BACK HERE!!" I shout as I storm after them, catch up, grab Zara by the arm and spin her around, "Where the hell are you going?! You need to get home and away from this guy." I say.

She blinks, and realization crosses her face, "Ok, look, it's a long story, and with the convo we just had, and you've had a long day and got your ass kicked three times now, but here's what's happening. He's not the thing in the shadows. We're gonna find it. If I stay here, I'm either dead, going to get kidnapped, or marrying that dickweed of a prince. I'm going with him because he's the only one who doesn't want to kill me at the moment. You are obliged by him," points at Ace, "To never leave my side till the thing is dead. You come with us, he'll explain everything, or you could try to argue with him and try a round four?"

I stay silent for a little before I say, "I fucking hate both of you...so.damn.much."

"Feelings mutual. Why do you think I was so happy to see him knock you around?" she says, smiling and walking away.

"...I don't get paid enough for this. Maybe I'll have the guy kill me. I mean, he CLEARY can, or I'll just shove this dagger down my throat that'll do the trick," I rant on following them, "Whoa whoa whoa, hold up, who the fuck are you anyways?" I ask the guy in the cloak.

"Sorry. My name is Nick, and your name is Aria, correct?" He asks, taking down his hood and mask, and I can see I was right about the short black hair.

"Yeah it is. And if I may ask you Zara, why are you so comfortable with him? He's a complete stranger and you just met him like," I say as I look down at my fake watch, "Fifteen minutes ago?"

"Ok first off it's starting to sound like you're actually caring about me for once. And second I don't know. I feel like I know him from somewhere. Also you were a stranger just yesterday and have said SEVERAL times you wanna kill me and he hasn't, soooo." Zara says.

"Ok first that's because I have anger issues with people that I don't know. Second, what do you mean by you think you know him from somewhere? Don't you just know if you do or not?"

"That's a funny way of saying in general." 

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Ok I'll admit I have anger issues but that doesn't matter right now. What we do need to do is figure out what we are going to do next. Are we going back to the castle or are we going on to find this thing?"

"Yeah, uh hell no we are not going back to the fucking castle. I don't want to marry that Chad. Besides he has a crusty ass beard. It's nasty."

"Yeah, seems just like a cocky arrogant prep boy who marries for power. Seen them a lot." Nick says.

"Fair. I'm not gonna ask how, but I'm just gonna go along with it, but if it gets to much for us to handle we are coming back, and leaving you here so you don't die, ok?" I ask Zara.

"Fine, whatever." She replies. 

"Good, also Nick, you're a good fighter. You have my respect."

"Likewise." He says.

"Hey what about me?" asks Zara.

"You're getting there." I say to her.

"Your mocking me aren't you?"

"Yeah I am but you're kind of getting on my good side. Only because THIS one is taking your place on my bad one."

"Fair enough, not a lot of people like me anyways." Nick says, shrugging his shoulders.

We walk to a small shack with carriages, and there's no one there, so I guess it's closed, but there are not even horses to pull the carriage.

"Before we go, do you two need any supplies or need to stop anywhere?" Nick asks.

"Yea we do. But I have money on me so we can just buy some weapons and stuff." I say, although id much rather-

"Buying a new weapon is worse than getting ones you're used to. And it's better to use on food and essential rather then weaponry." Nick replies, almost mirroring my thoughts.

"Agreed, but little Mrs. Princess doesn't want to go back to the castle."

"Nope." Zara says.

"I'll sneak in and get some weapons and I'll be back. Meet me here." I say.

"How the hell are you supposed to sneak into the castle? There are way too many guards." Zara says.

"Oh, don't worry. I know how to handle them," I said while smirking.

"Ok, but you did technically kidnap the princes in their eyes so don't be too arrogant and be cautious, don't need you getting your ass kicked when you can beat them because of your arrogance." Nick states.

"We are not going to talk about that. But someone needs to watch her, and since you two are such a 'lovely couple', you can stay with her, and I'll go get weapons." I say, and as I do, I see something in Nick's expression change, it's ever so slight, but I can't make out what it is. Annoyance, sadness, confirmation, i have no clue and that bothers me.

I leave the two love birds and get the weapons easily, with no sweat whatsoever. I can't carry a lot, so I just grabbed what I found, a sword, a shield, and a few throwing knives. Then I went back to them and saw they got some food and items.

"Oh yay, Aria's back. I'm so happy." Says Zara sarcastically.

"Ok that was a little too much." I reply.

"Really, Coming from you. That's rich."

"Says the one who has acsess to daddys money?" "Oh you li-"

"Your the short one here, you wanna finish that sentence?"

"Ok ok, lets not do this please. Your both pretty, stubborn, and talkative people who have, by the looks of it, very different lives. I know its hard but could you TRY and get along?" Nick asks.

"Ok that first thing is a LIE but ok." I say.

"Its only a lie because you have self doubt."

"I- ok we are NOT talking about that."

"Alright then, you ready?" 

 "Yeah, I'm hungry and we are getting food. Let's go."

"We got food to last us about five days, three if you two are just snack junkies."

"No I'm not!" Zara and I say at the exact same time.

"That's a yes for both of you," He replies.

"Fine, but how are we going to travel because I don't want to walk." I say.

"The cart we got here, it'll get us around." Nick states.

I look around, and I see something missing.

"Ok that's good but we are missing something. THE GODDAMN HORSES!! CAUSE IF YOU THINK THAT ANY OF US ARE GOING TO PULL THAT SHIT YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING MISTER!"

"Who said horse?" Nick asks with a smile.

All of a sudden, a loud growl can be heard. Zara yelps and runs behind me, and pushes me toward the noise.

"Wow really I feel so loved by you right now."

"You really should, you said to stay behind you!!!"

"God damn you. Why do you listen to me? Anyways another question to add to that. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT! That noise scared Merla and she doesnt get scared even though she's a bird bitch!"

Behind me, I hear Merla caw angrily and start pecking and clawing my face.

"Oi, stop it you idiot or I will put you in a cage when we get back. And don't think that I will forget about that."

Nick chuckles a bit.

"Whats so funny???" Zara asks, holding Flare close to her.

"Nothing,  it's just cute how startled you two get, especially with how aggressive Aria's reactions are." He replies, and I get a little flustered and angry.

"Ok, I am NOT cute! I'm threatning anf a killer!!." I rebut.

"Never said you wernt, compliments dont equal weakness."

I'm seriously gonna have to slap him upside the head soon, I whistle, and Merla turns into a white wolf ready to maul whatever the fuck that was, and even the brat's fox gets ready to fight. Then a stack of hay, or what we thought was hay, got up and loomed over us, and Merla and the fox turned around, but before I did, they both backed up and fuckin layed down whining. I turn around, and there's a bear behind me staring at me

"WHERE IS THAT GOD DAMN MOOSE?!?! I WANT IT BACK. Wait Merla turn into a moose."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Nick warns.

I whistle, and she turns into a moose. She twirls around, probably wondering what the fuck is going on.

The bear sees the moose and lets out a small roar and sends it into the shack and begins to tackle it and is about to eat it before Nick jumps in."Fluffy no!! This is a friend, not food." 

The bear gets off, and Merla turns back into a bird and BOOKS it toward me as she hides behind my back.

"The fuck." I question.

Zara just stands there with her mouth wide open.

"Ayo princessa close your mouth before a fly goes in there." I say.

"You're scared that bear almost ate your bird so you are hiding it with a joke aren't you?"

"...Would you believe me if I said no?"

"No." Both Nick and Zara said at the same time.

"Well damn."

Fluffy walks up to Zara and licks her hand, and Zara pets his head,"Awwwwww, he's so cute." Zara says and plays with Fluffy.

"Ya know what I'm not even gonna question anything...but, THAT BITCH ALMOST MADE MY BIRD INTO A HAPPY MEAL!!!" I shout.

"Emphasis on almost." Nick states.

"I want to fight the bear...but also its a bear..and it just roared a moose through a shack."

"Yeah maybe don't do that." Nick advises as he hooks up Fluffy to the cart.

"So the bear pulls the cart?"

"Faster then three horses, can swim, and has the endurance of five of them on a bad day, so yeah he'll be good."

We load up the rest of the belongings and head off into the forest...where were going, I don't fucking know, but we are too far gone to turn back now so. I'll ask more later, like where, why, and of course, what the fuck, but I've had a long day, and I just want to sleep.

[november-writes1819]

Cursed Chapter 2

Elise’s movements were clumsy as she pushed at the branches that scraped her face and tore at her clothes, feet desperately  trying to take her farther away from the large beast, to move faster in vain hope that she could escape. The growls grew in intensity, seeming to echo and come from everywhere at once, surrounding her. They were deafening, blending with her accelerated heartbeat as fear pulsed through her veins.

The wolf followed, razor sharp claws tearing the earth as he pounced after her in long strides, hunger gleaming in his eyes. He had been plenty patient, waiting since the last moon for them to send him a new meal, chasing only the wild animals that foolishly wandered too close to his home. God, weren’t they unsatisfying. There was nothing like the fear dripping from his meals, feeding both his stomach and his hatred… Baring his teeth, the wolf began to lunge forward with greater speed, growing closer and closer. She would be enough to quell his fury, even if she seemed too measly to be a proper meal.

She could feel its breath on her skin, its claws on her dress, even as Elise forced her feet to carry her faster still. A scream fell from her lips as she snagged her foot within a tree root, landing with a rough thump on the floor. Shaking uncontrollably, she scrambled to sit, backing away from the creature as a horrific realization hit her. This was it. This was why she had been sent out here. Why else would she be sent at dusk if mother and father knew this terrifying beast was out here, prowling and lurking? She was meant to die, sentenced by those she loved the most. The wind grew bitterly cold, or perhaps that was her own heart, chilling her to the bone as the wolf continued to approach, tears welling in her eyes. But she didn’t try to escape, not any more. What good would it do? Drag out the inevitable. And even if she survived the night, she’d be sent home knowing that she had been condemned to die. No, she’d not be able to calmly hug her mother, to kiss father’s cheek and act as though she’d merely gotten lost. Not knowing they knew what they’d sent her for.

They had to have known. 

Chewing on her lip, Elise raised her arms, blocking her face as she braced for the oncoming attack, wincing with each loud thudding footstep that grew closer, glancing up for only a moment. She paused, arms lowering and a look of intrigued surprise taking over her features as she locked eyes with the beautiful ivory creature still baring perfect fangs, emerald eyes peering into blue that rivaled ice itself. There was something about them… something so familiar...as though she’d seen them before. 

The memory hit her all at once, those eyes burning into her soul, and suddenly, she was eight years old again, picking berries and chasing butterflies in the dim underbrush. Mother had warned her not to go far, and to be home before sundown. How quickly she had lost track of the time, in awe of all the beautiful flowers that adorned the forest floor, of the brilliantly colored moths dancing around her, beckoning her deeper and deeper…

By the time Elise had realized that night had fallen, she had wandered too far from the path, lost in the deep thicket, night sounds beginning to frighten the child. She had tried her best to put on a brave face, gathering her small jacket tighter around herself and telling herself that monsters were not real. She was a big girl, after all, certainly big enough to find her way home without being afraid! 

Trying not to jump at every snapping branch or owl hooting in the trees, the girl had smoothed out her dress, forcing herself to quietly move through the trees in the direction she thought she had come from. Surely, she’d find the path soon! But minutes soon turned to hours, leaving Elise tired and afraid, more than a little lost in the vast darkness of the woods. Large tears swelled and rolled down chubby cheeks, the harsh chill of the night air pricking the wet tracks they left, even as she curled down into the ground, tugging her coat around her and shivering. If she just slept… it would be light when she woke up. It’d be less scary when the darkness was gone. It’d be easier to find the path again. Those things she told herself over and over again as she settled down, shutting her eyes tightly.

Elise hadn’t heard the large animal coming until it was far too late. She had been jolted from her sleep by a loud, angry roar, emerald eyes cracking open long enough for a scream to tear from her throat. The bear showed no signs of wishing to leave her alone, coming right for her, claws bared. Fear had struck her completely, whimpers and cries of pains mingling with screams in the otherwise silent night air as the child was mauled. She had feared she was going to die, pain tearing through every inch of her body when- suddenly the pressure was gone off of her, the sharp claws no longer tearing at her skin.  Instead, there was a second growl, but somehow- it wasn’t directed at her. 

She lay for what felt like hours, her body sore and bloody, before a large, soft source of warmth curled around her, blue eyes piercing her own even as white fur stained with her crimson blood. She’d been frightened for only a moment by the large white wolf, scared it too was going to attack her. Instead it almost seemed- protective, curling around her the way her mother often did when she had a bad dream, letting its fur keep her warm and safe. The growling had ceased, the creature licking at her wounds gently before resting its head on her chest, urging her to slip into sleep, something little Elise had been unable to resist. 

When she had woken up, it had been in her own bed, the bandages wrapped tight around various parts of her small frame the only proof that it had been anything other than a dream.

Those eyes…. this wolf looked so much like the first that Elise found herself shifting onto her knees, reaching out a tentative, cautious hand. Her movements were slow, trying her best to not startle the large, beautiful creature. Foolish, her mind screamed. She was going to be eaten alive and here she was trying to touch the very thing that was going to deliver her death. Ah, but if she was going to die anyways, was there truly any harm?

The wolf paused, continuing to growl lowly as he gave a warning nip to the air, not biting her but simply warning her to proceed with caution. What was wrong with this girl? She wasn’t screaming anymore, she didn’t even look afraid! Instead, she was slowly moving towards him on her knees, one hand outstretched. It confused him, blue eyes sharp as they locked onto emerald once more. The large beast stayed on edge, white fur bristled even as he allowed her to approach, eyes growing wary. Was it a trap? No, that wouldn’t make sense. The woman was so small, he’d be able to easily fend her off.

He flinched for only a moment when an oddly gentle hand lay on his head, fingers curiously stroking through his fur, seemingly intent on not causing the beast accidental harm. What an odd notion, he though, allowing his eyes to flicker to the moon. It was falling lower and lower in the sky, his instincts beginning to lessen and human thought returning more with each moment. A feeling of familiarity washed over him slowly, eyes narrowing as the strange woman's scent hit him.

It wasn't possible.

He remembered the child from all those years before in crystal clear detail. She remained to this day the only human he'd spared. Not that he could quite explain it. No, he'd fully intended to let the bear kill her, watching from the protection of the underbrush. But as those tortured screams and pleas had continued to fall from the child's lips, something in him had begun to ache. It was only because it was near sun up, he'd later tried to tell himself. His human emotions had been beginning to return and he was scarce older than her when in his human form, maybe four or five years older. And so he'd fought the bear off, seriously injuring himself in the process before laying atop the child the child to fight the chill, soothing her back to sleep. And when he'd changed back, he had picked her up and carried her back to the edge of the village, laying her down to be found before running back to coverage.

Mother had been livid with him, tugging him into her arms and holding him tightly, pinching his ear in scolding even as she had bandaged him up lovingly. It was too dangerous to go near the village, she had warned. Humans were vile, cruel beasts bent on hatred and fear. That was why they willingly took the sacrifices they sent, she had told the boy. As retribution for what the villagers put them through. At the time, he had been confused. The girl had certainly not seemed a threat. But if mother warned him to be careful, he would be. He’d seen the girl only once or twice more after that, always during the day and always clutching her mother’s hand tightly. 

Surely that wirey child could not be the same beautiful woman now tenderly petting his muzzle! He finally relaxed, no longer baring his teeth at her, hesitantly pushing his head against her hand. But it had to be… she was just too familiar to be anyone else but the girl he had saved all those years before. Leaning forward, the wolf brushed his nose over her cheek, that same, strange protective feeling welling up inside of him. What was it about this girl? How could she elicit this feeling from him again even fourteen years later? He inhaled sharply once more, shifting until he was nudging her to lay back on the soft grass, curling his large body around hers once more, pleased when the chills that racked her body began to slowly dissipate. She was different… something had drawn him to her then, and it seemed it was drawing him to her once more. He couldn’t quite place the odd feeling settling in the stomach, even as he nuzzled her gently until she drifted to sleep. 

Eyes that grew more and more human with each passing moment watched her intently as she slept, a wary sigh falling from the beast’s lips. Things were so much more complicated this time. He couldn’t bring her back to the village. If he did, the villagers would believe he had cast some kind of spell on her. Or worse, that she was a devil in cahoots with him. He didn’t want that. Besides, he couldn’t afford to have them lose their fear of him, nor he his hatred of them. Not even for her. The moment he did that, he failed his mother. 

Groaning lowly in his throat, he slipped off of her as the sun began to rise, bones cracking and popping as he sought coverage to wait out the change. He had no choice. He’d just have to take her home with him. For whatever reason, he simply couldn’t kill her. He found he didn’t even truly want to. White fur turned to golden locks and pale skin, crystal blue eyes the only that unchanged as he slipped into the clothes he always kept hidden nearby, approaching once more, the last bit of his animal instincts lingering as he hunched down to continue to watch her sleep, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch her face.

What could he even say? That he was the wolf that had spared her? That she’d been sent for him to slaughter so the villagers could save their sorry hides, probably by someone she had loved and protected? As if she’d even believe him. No, she’d likely believe him crazy, spouting stories of being a wolf, that or she’d flee, calling him a devil as all the rest had. Not that he was left much choice in the matter.

Beneath his fingertips, the auburn haired woman shift, a tired yawn falling from her lips as she raised a hand to rub at her eyes, the man jumping back quickly, eyes wary and attentive as he waited for her to come to full consciousness. It was going to startle her to see someone watching her, he knew it, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. He shifted back slowly, allowing himself to sit cross legged in front of her about a foot away, those icy eyes continuing to watch her with curiosity.

He still didn’t understand how she hadn’t been afraid of him, the memory of her fingertips still searing his skin. What was wrong with him? Just the loneliness. He could so easily be right, how long had it been since mother had been killed? Closer to ten years now, and he’d been alone since then. He’d never thought it had bothered him before…. but now watching the beautiful woman sleep, a large, sharp ache began to fill his chest. Maybe having her come home with him would be a pleasant thing for both of them after all.

[eruanna1875]

Happy Reapers (Guidesman, C2)

Chapter Two: Shoulder

C2 on Tumblr: First/Previous - Next

(C1, The Lost Boys)

~~*~~

According to the bits of conversation the Woodsman heard over his shoulder as they walked, it seemed their new companion’s name was ‘Beatrice’.

They were coming now to the end of the trees. Though the damp of the morning still hung in the air, the path led out of the woods entirely, out from beneath the roof of leaves under which he lived out so many of his days.

The Woodsman glanced back at them over his shoulder. The half-early day was bright, and all was cast into a golden haze by the lingering mist. No shadows lurked behind. Or at least, none seemed to.

“Do you… think something’s following us?”

“Hm?” He turned his gaze. Wirt was walking at his right hand, and staring with a puzzled frown. “Why should I think that?”

“I mean, you keep looking back, so I just assumed you…” He tried to gesture an explanation, then gave up. “I-I don’t know. Dumb question.”

“No, questions are only natural in such a strange land.” A sigh. “And… I think nothing has followed us thus far. The wereling is long gone, certainly, and I’ve seen little that could be of any danger since we left the mill.”

“Really? So… why…?”

The Woodsman eyed him, then turned his gaze away. At his left side, out of Wirt’s sight, he set his hand on the lantern, hung on his belt hours ago. “The Unknown has taught me to keep vigil. Though perhaps you would profit from it, I am glad it will not have the chance to teach you.”

“Oh.”

Wirt fell silent, letting the sound of Greg’s chatter and the morning’s hush fill the space. And the Woodsman tried to turn his mind from dark possibilities. Their road had rounded a bend, and was fenced now on both sides. Fields of pumpkins stretched out beyond, their further borders out of sight. They walked in farmland now. Their road was plain. He knew the very dirt beneath his shoes. No need for concern, surely.

His eyes drifted over his shoulder once more.

“AHHHH!”

The Woodsman jumped. His hand sprang to his right side, where he had hung his axe. He spun to face Greg—the source of the scream. The child stared at Beatrice aghast.

“How can you not eat waffles?!”

Suddenly, he screamed even louder.

“What’s happened?” the Woodsman demanded, urgently bewildered as he bent toward the child’s level.

“I stepped on a pumpkin!!”

The Woodsman stopped. His eyes dropped to the ground. Greg’s foot was stuck inside of a small pumpkin. He looked back up, at a loss. But it only took him a moment before he let out a small “Ah.”

That’s right. Children do such things.

“Ha! Look!” Wirt’s triumphant cry caught his ear. He took a last look at Greg, who seemed now perfectly untroubled, and who began clomping along with his pumpkin pegleg. He glanced at Beatrice (who looked just as disoriented as he had been). She seemed to shrug.

The Woodsman, very slightly, did the same. Then he stood straight again, still a little baffled but no longer alarmed. Such a strange boy. He shook his head. I shall have to warn him of crying out without cause. The sound could well draw real dangers, or—

They came to the crest of the hill. And all his wary thoughts hushed at the sight.

Golden fields lay out before them. Autumn freely and wholeheartedly rested on the rolling hills. In the midst of these, the path wove down into a little farming village, its homely houses all together, safely gathered in. Pottsfield.

For a moment, there was nothing behind him at all.

“Civilization!” declared Wirt, throwing his fists in the air (and, he did not realize, shaking his guide from his reverie). “Yes! At long last, our ill-begotten wanderings through this realm of shadows are ended!”

The Woodsman cocked his head, intrigued at the strangely poetic words. The lad had never spoken that way before. And yet, it seemed as easy on his tongue as his everyday speech.

But the young wordsmith wasn’t used to attention for his work. He caught the look and shrank away a little. “Uh… yeah, we-we’re here, so— what the…?”

This last was said because his shrinking produced a squelch. Wirt looked down. Then he scowled. He too had stepped into a pumpkin.

“Ah, great.”

Once they’d removed the involuntary shoe, the four of them (five with Greg’s frog) made their way down the hill toward Pottsfield. Greg kept chatting with Beatrice, who seemed to respond only grudgingly. Wirt eyed their surroundings with curiosity (and kept watch for stray pumpkins).

The Woodsman didn’t look over his shoulder once.

[envy-of-the-apple]

How would yandere Deku react to the reader playing a gold flute that's unbreakable because of magic that was gifted to her by someone from another dimension who has feelings for her? It’s like the music from the flute can connect with reader and her friend, there’s a special connection between them

i kinda mixed this with a fantasy setting idea?? Could be seen as either romantic obbsession or platonic. I kinda’ left that up to you. gn reader btw~

shaky writing because i was trying to sound all wise and philisophical and i forgot i was a smut writer

(Fantasy AU! Yandere, obsession, destruction of property idk there’s so few warnings on this one(?))

Playing God  

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya x reader

When you first meet Izuku Midoriya, you’re a bit surprised that this was the hero the Gods chose. He resembles nothing close to what the prophecy foretold. He’s merely a child, barely hovering about the age of fourteen, trembling in the dirt of your forest, marks and scratches all over his body. 

For a moment, you think to leave him. Eventually the elders of the village will come to look for him. There’s no need for you to meddle with the human’s affairs, especially ones concerning a hero. They did say those who intervened with the destiny of a prodigy often suffered dearly. 

It’s the frailness of his body that makes you break, how tiny he looks among the grass. How pitiful. 

A warm meal wouldn’t count as meddling, right? 

“Are you lost?” You ask. 

The boy stiffens, he looks up wildly, before finally focusing his eyes on you. They were bright. Green like the forest. He blended in quite nicely. 

He doesn’t answer the first time. 

“I asked if you were lost.” 

He hesitates, “...A little.” He finally admits. 

You laugh, it’s quick, barely a huff, finally deciding to extend your hand towards him. 

“Come. Let’s get you out of the dirt.” 

As his hand reaches up to grasp your own, you decide that he doesn’t have the hand of a hero’s. 

Despite his tiny stature, Izuku eats a lot. 

Two bowls have already been downed, and he’s midway through his third. Briefly, you wonder if you even have enough food to fill this boy up. 

He seems to suddenly remember himself, stopping himself from devouring the bowl completely, delicately setting it down. 

“Thank you for the food,” He says shyly, a blush blooms on freckled cheeks. 

You only hum, “Eat as much as you want. You need that energy.” 

He nods at your reply, going back to his meal, before pausing again. 

 “I’m...I’m sorry for barging into your home like this,” He says, guiltily looking away. He glances at the hall of your temple. 

“I promise I’ll leave as soon as I can...” 

You tilt you head, “What were you doing so deep in the forest anyway? Not even the woodsmen come this far.” 

“I was exploring,” Izuku replies honestly, “But the woods got so dark and I didn’t know where I was going and...” 

“Hm,” You say, “Exploring? Alone? That’s not very wise.” 

He’s helpless to do nothing but nod. 

“I know...” 

“Well, as long as you realize your mistake,” You sigh, stretching out your arms, “Be sure not to repeat this dangerous adventure again. Understood?” 

He blinks. He seems confused. 

“You...you aren’t upset I entered your forest?” He asks hesitantly. 

“The forest isn’t mine. I’m in no position to demand those things,” You reply, “I’m just glad you’re unharmed.” 

He seems to still be unsure. In response, you push his unfinished bowl closer to him.

“That being said,” You hope your smile doesn’t look like a grimace, “I might not be so forgiving if you waste your food.” 

His doubt seems to vanish instantly. Immediately, Izuku goes back to eating, scarfing it down with renewed vigor. 

When the sky begins to show signs of purple, you shoo him in the direction of his village. He keeps waving back until his figure fully disappears into the leaves. When he’s gone, you sigh, massaging your temples. There’s no moon in the sky tonight. A child is harmless, but it could have been worse. 

Maybe you should erect a barrier to keep pesky humans out. 

-

After centuries of practice, the art of the woodwind instrument has finally been mastered. 

The forest is quiet, thrumming with silent vigor. You can feel the spirits in the trees, the streams, the dirt, all await for your tune. As always, you sit on the floor of your temple, hands steady on your flute. You play something soft, melodious. The song blooms through your halls, spreading across the trees. Your eyes are closed, listening to the notes in a quiet tandem. 

“Wow, you’re really good.” 

You scream. The golden flute drops to the floor, sending a loud clatter as it rolls away. Recovering quickly, you immediately grab the instrument, before sending a seething look at the intruder. 

At least he had the conscious to look remorseful. 

“Sorry,” Izuku says hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“It’s fine,” You say too quickly. 

You take a deep breath, trying to sound a little more patient. You still can’t keep the frustration in your voice, still too flustered at how easily you were startled by a mortal.

 “Why are you here anyways?” 

He looks away, “I...was doing some exploring...again.” He says shyly. 

When you give him a look, he’s quick to respond. 

“Safely! This time.” 

You swallow your annoyance, “Wonderful. I’m a little busy at the moment. If you’ll excuse me.” 

You get up, brushing down your kurta. Izuku is quick to follow, scrambling to walk beside you. 

“What-what are you busy with?” He squeaks, “I could maybe help you?” 

“Gardening,” You say stiffly, “It’s mainly heavy-lifting work. I’m not sure a child could help me.” 

Why was he here? How had he even found you? Hadn’t he learned his lesson last time he got lost? You wondered if the dryads had helped this kid out. Annoying you was something of a pastime for them. 

“I can help! I’m pretty strong. And-and I could...” He trails off when you sigh. 

You come to a stop. 

 “Child, don’t you think it’s a little reckless to be wandering the forest again? Why don’t you go play with your friends in the village?” 

His face falls and you wonder if you said the wrong thing. When he glances down to stare at the dirt, you know you’ve said the wrong thing. 

“Who know who I am, right?” He mumbles, kicking at the dirt, “You already knew my name.” 

You don’t respond. He already knows your answer. 

“The kids in the village don’t really like me...” He quietly says, “They say the Gods wasted their gifts on me...that I don’t really deserve it.” 

He looks at the trees. You follow his gaze, hoping to catch what he sees. 

“The elders also say think same thing. They never say it...but...I can tell.” 

You can almost imagine it, a boy with green hair being ostracized by children, each which jealousy, annoyance, that this was the hero the Gods chose. Adults clambering together, whispering their distaste in hushed rumors. 

“Do you believe them?” You ask. 

He looks at you, confused. 

“They said you were a failure. Before you could even start. Do you believe them?” 

He doesn’t hesitate, this time. 

“I don’t.” 

You laugh at that. The confidence a kid like him has. You admire it, honestly. 

Heroes are rare, an abnormality. Despite all the years you’ve lived you’ve only met a few. You’ve never seen a hero grow, get stronger, flourish with the gift of the Gods. 

“Do you believe them?” Izuku asks. 

This could be an opportunity.

You tilt your head. “Which Gods have visited you so far?” 

He only has one gift so far. Strength, from the sun. You hum in acknowledgment, before calling out to the forest. You ask for ore from the caves, wood from the trees. 

You ask for indirect heat, from the moon. 

The sword is too heavy for Izuku. He bends a bit, struggling to support the weight.

Still, he doesn’t let it drop. You smile at that. 

“We’ll see.” 

Watching over a hero might give some entertainment in your mundane life. 

Izuku visited consistently. His favorite time was in the evening, just when you were about to play your tune. You don’t mind. He’s diligent. A hard worker. You supposed it’s because no ones bothered to try with the little hero. He’s grateful for it. 

You just wish he’d be a bit more efficient. 

“It’s been hours, let’s just stop here, for now.” You say, coming to stand beside him. 

He’s barely sitting, almost lying in the grass, exhausted. The hero groans in what sounds like acknowledgment. Slowly, he tries to lift himself up, staggering. 

You sigh, “Take a break. Gain back your strength.” 

He collapses back to the floor, and the sword sinks into the grass. Curious, you step towards his work, the job you’d given him for today. 

As you expected, it wasn’t a lot. The dead stump you instructed him to cut down barely had a scratch on it, a shallow line where his sword had mashed through. Could be his age, or his overall power, but Izuku was weak, despite the gift the Sun had given him. 

“No,” You tell him sternly when he tries to wobble to his feet, “Just sit for now.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he wordlessly complies. You were glad you had to stop him from pushing himself, instead of the other way around. Tenacity was honestly the only thing he had going for him at this point.

“Thank you,” Izuku politely takes the cup you offered him, drinking the contents down in one swing.

You stand next to him, waiting for him to finish.

He couldn’t access his gift, he told you when you berated him one evening. He knows it’s there, deep within him, but he can’t reach it. Theoretically, cutting down a stump should be child’s play with his gift. You were pretty sure it was because he lacked any initial power. In order to start a fire, one needed a flame. Izuku didn’t even have a spark. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” He says when he finally catches his breath, “I can still feel it. It’s still there, but I can’t use it. Am I still not strong enough?” 

You give him a look over. It’s only been a few weeks but he’s already gained a bit of muscle. Not by a lot, but he didn’t look like he’d fall over by a gust of wind at any second. 

It should be more than enough, right? 

Maybe you were looking at it the wrong way? You bite your lip, studying him. He’s strong, plenty strong, but maybe it isn’t just physical strength that’s stopping him?

“I think the issue is that you aren’t picturing it,” You finally say. 

“Picturing it...?” 

You nod. “Gifts mainly are channeled through your body, but you need to guide it. I’d suggest temporarily setting a goal, before you fully harness your gift.” 

You expect him to jump up, eager to try your strategy out. Instead, Izuku uncharacteristically remains seated on the floor. 

“Something wrong?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. 

“No, it’s just: you’re always helping me,” He says, “I wish I could do something to repay you.” 

You feel a little guilty when he says that. You still don’t have the heart to admit you’re doing this for your own entertainment. 

He gives a frustrated huff. 

“But I’m not really sure what a human like me could give a God.” 

Now, that gets a laugh out of you. Izuku’s face falls to confusion as you almost fall to the floor in hysterics. 

“Sorry,” You huff, out of breath, “Do you...do you think I’m a God?” 

He hesitates, “You...you aren’t?” 

“No,” You’re still grinning, “Not even close.” 

“But the-the temple,” He flounders, “Your-your powers?” 

You shake your head. 

“I was simply gifted by the Gods, same as you.”

His eyes widen, “Are you a Hero too?” 

“Not quite,” You hum, “I think once, a long time ago, I was a human. A normal human. But I did something that a God rather appreciated. They gave me my gift.” You whirl the flute in your hands. Izuku stares at it, transfixed. 

“What happened?” He suddenly asks. 

You glance at him, he’s backpedaling, trying to squish words in a sentence. 

“Why did the God give you your gift?” 

Your smile falls.

 “...I don’t remember.” 

Izuku sits back, something somber on his face. A wince of anger.

“You...don’t?” You shake your head. 

“It happened centuries in the past. It’s...trivial to recall things that happened so long ago.” 

Izuku sits, letting what you said fill the silence. He doesn’t move until you’re scowling, telling him to get to work. He’s quick to comply. 

Your theory is proven correct when Izuku closes his eyes, focusing on his gift. When he swings, the brunt of the sun comes with it, shattering the stump completely. It’s shaky, uncontrolled, but he did it. 

When you ask what he was thinking about, he cheekily tells you its a secret. 

There’s a festival in the village that evening. Timidly Izuku asks if you will attend. His face falls when you shake your head. He’s suddenly wondering why you haven’t left the forest in all the years you’ve been alive. 

“That’s the price of immortality,” You hum. 

“Imprisonment.” 

_

Izuku is sixteen when news of him reaches the kingdom. 

Imperial knights are sent to his village immediately. Within weeks nobles and merchants swarm his tiny town, endlessly gifting him with gold, jewelry, expensive clothing he’s never seen before. 

Even the current crown prince of this era came to greet him. 

“His highness says there’s a school in the palace, a place where people can train with their gifts,” Izuku says, swinging his knees on the roof.

You idly stand beside him, onlooking the view of the forest. It was so pretty like this, the time just before nightfall came. The temple is washed in duller colors as the sun disappears beneath the skyline. You can see the moon creeping up to take its place. 

Usually, he’s dressed so modestly, simple clothes, scuffed pants. Today, he sits in your temple wearing an expensive shirt, material you’ve never even seen before. He looks healthier. Fuller. He gave you a fruit you had no name for. It tasted sweet on your tongue. 

“Exciting,” You state, indulging him, “When are you planning on departing?” 

He frowns. 

“In a few days,” He says. 

His tone is off. You tilt your head. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, “This is the chance you were waiting for, correct? After all, there’s so little training you can do in a forest.” 

“I am,” He returns, too quickly, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you. 

He isn’t looking at you, rather, he’s avoiding looking at you completely. Bright green eyes stare into the horizon, dimmed by the setting sun. 

“Then?” 

“You won’t come with me,” He phrases it as a statement. A certainty. 

“I won’t,” You agree, “Why are you so worried with my presence?” 

“I just-” He doesn’t respond, trying to figure out the correct words. He takes a minute. Then another. 

“I wish you could.” He gives a glance at your flute. You can’t make out his expression. “But you can’t.” 

You hum. 

“Have you ever wanted to leave this place?” Izuku asks. 

That question has never crossed your mind before. You peer into the forest, alongside him. You can see treetops, hills, valleys. It’s all yours. 

But have you ever wanted more than that? 

How have the humans developed? How has the world changed? The fruits Izuku brought, the clothes he wore, you wanted to see the place they came from. 

“I think It’d be nice if I could,” You reply honestly. 

This gift was a curse, as well as a blessing. But you were happy with that. Content. The world will change around you, evolve, possibly leave you behind. But you’re fine in your little world filled with green. 

You know Izuku doesn’t see it that way. No mortal would, not with their finite days. 

“You never told me,” Izuku says. 

“Told you what?” 

“Which God gifted you.” 

You smile, “Why does it matter?” 

He frowns, “Is that you saying you won’t tell me?” 

“Not quite,” You honestly state, “I’ve given you some hints, I believe.” 

“Isn’t it more fun to figure it out yourself?” 

He doesn’t respond, not to your last statement, at the very least. 

“I’m not strong enough to help you, yet.” He whispers, turning to look at you. 

“But I will be, one day.” 

You smile at him. But, for some reason, his words feel like a warning.

The next day, Izuku heads into the kingdom.

You don’t see him off. You know he understands. 

It’s not like you could. 

_

You lied to him. 

You remember how you got your gift. Just pieces, shatters of a complete memory. Sometimes you try piecing them together, trying to create a concrete storyline. Something always feels wrong, uncomplete. 

You always give up. 

In the end, it was pointless to try to explain remnants of a memory to a boy who can hardly fathom your passage of time. 

Tonight, once again, the moon doesn’t join you. 

_

To you, 11 years is only a moment. 

To Izuku, it’s more than a decade. 

He’s bigger now. Earlier, he was shorter than you, thinner. Now, he feels larger than most trees, towering over you. Untamed green hair is shorter now, and those giant emerald irises have matured. 

The only thing you recognize is the smile. Soft, hesitant. Nervous.

As if he’s unsure if you even want to see him. 

He timidly waits by the entrance of your temple, patiently waiting for you to acknowledge him. It’s a little comical, with how big he is, yet his posture remained the same. Polite, to the end. 

You wait for a minute, then two. 

Finally, you sigh. 

“Come here, Izuku,” 

He’s huge, practically dwarfing you. He has to bend over a little, hunch, in order to wrap his arms around your smaller body. But you’re just as warm, just as welcoming. 

You pat his broad back, and you can feel him relax into your hold. 

“Welcome home.” 

~ 

“You can only stay for a few days?” You cock your head, disappointed. 

He’s nodding, just as remorseful. 

“I already visited the village,” He’s sighing, leaning back, “So much has changed.” 

You laugh, “I can imagine. Tell me, what was it like?” 

Izuku tells you stories. Stories of his travels. Stories of the adventures he’s had. Stories of the long harsh battles. Stories of finally slaying the nightmare that had plagued this world for decades. Stories of being a hero. 

You wonder if he feels guilt, guilt that you weren’t there to watch him. You can’t blame him. That’s how he is. He needs to be everyone’s savior. You often wondered if that was just his personality, or the traits of every hero. 

You like to think that it was just Izuku’s. 

He’s smiling when he finishes his tales. The sun is setting in the sky. You won’t let him stay the night. 

He’s matured between his younger years. There’s no disappointment on his freckled features. He nods, with a smile. 

“You can only stay for a few days,” You say, tilting your head. 

“I’m offended you aren’t more saddened about leaving.” 

He jerks, stumbling over apologies and you laugh. 

“No it’s just, I have a feeling.” He smiles knowingly, a light blush over his tanned faced. 

You prod, “Feeling?” 

He nods, “I won’t be leaving you.” 

You don’t know what he means by that. It sounds metaphorical, because he must know you’ll never leave this forest. You’ll live forever, while he, the great hero, withers away with mortality. Another will take his place. 

Still, his last words feel strangely cryptic. You force yourself not to linger on it. 

~

Something was wrong. 

You woke up. The forest was screaming. You could hear the horrid cries of the trees, the saplings. 

They were screaming for you. 

You’re stumbling through the halls of your temple. It’s night, but the moon isn’t out, not this time. There’s no one to see you. To hear you. You feel alone. 

But you aren’t. 

Izuku is right there, in the edge of your temple. You want to feel relief, but you can’t, not when the thing he’s holding in his arms is too familiar to you. Something he shouldn’t even be touching. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’ve figured it out,” Izuku is smiling, spinning your flute in his hands. He’s too reckless, and you have a feeling he won’t listen to you if you tell him to be careful. 

It strangely feels like it’s the intention. 

“Figured what out?” You cautiously ask. Izuku doesn’t feel like the companion you trained all those years ago. He feels more than that. Bigger. 

It scares you. 

“It was the Lunar God. The one who gifted you.” Izuku says, his eyes trail up to the sky. There’s nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. 

“You never let me visit on days there’s no moon. You don’t have power on those days,” He looks down at the flute, “Neither does this.” 

“Izuku,” You feel like you’re begging but you don’t know why, “Izuku what are you doing?” 

His eyes are softer, like he believes his own words, rather than your tearful ones. You suddenly realize the forest wasn’t crying for you to come and save it.

It was crying for you to run and save yourself. 

“Don’t you get it?” He says, “I’m saving you.” 

There’s a crack. And you don’t have the courage to keep staring as he drops the instrument to the floor. There’s two distinct clatters, and you know it’s over. 

You can feel it. All of it, lifting from your skin. Your tether to the moon is disappearing. Your power is returning to someone who once gave it to you with a smile. The voices of the forest are growing weaker and weaker and weaker. 

Then you stop hearing it entirely. 

You sink to the floor, no longer someone with a god’s gift, just you. 

Just Izuku’s. 

He’s quick to retrieve his prize, following you to the floor of a temple that you once owned. His hands rub your back in a soothing gesture that lacks the intent, just the greed. 

“You’ll be okay,” He’s murmuring, “I’ll take care of you now.” 

He’s humming, just barely over your hushed sobs. 

“All you ever need, is me.” 

Izuku draws you into a hug, and you suddenly feel very foolish. 

Despite all the years you’ve lived, you were simply a mere human. 

Who were you, to play God?

[bloody-bee-tea]

Never what you expect

The woods are a dangerous place, everyone knows that. It’s one of the first things parents teach their children; keep out of the woods, and if you do end up in one for whatever reason, don’t step into anything that looks like a circle, don’t eat any food that you find and if you should meet someone, never speak your name and run as fast as you can.

Every child knows the woods are the most dangerous place to be, that there are creatures that take you away if you’re not careful, that take you and never allow you to come back.

And yet the woods is exactly where Jiang Cheng is running to now.

His eyes are still blurry and his cheek throbs with his mother’s handprint and it only spurs him on faster.

Jiang Cheng has never been in the woods; he has always honoured his parent’s warnings about them, always listened when they told him what not to do.

He didn’t really expect to one day do exactly what he’s not supposed to but he guesses with how his world is crumbling little by little around him this shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“A circle, I need a circle,” he mutters under his breath as he makes his way through the underbrush, keeping his eyes open for anything that even remotely looks like a circle.

Jiang Cheng thought it would be easier to find; the stories certainly make it sound like you take one step into the woods and you’re basically in a circle already, but by the time he comes across a clearing with a circle made out of mushrooms the sun is already setting.

Jiang Cheng knows that the Nie’s are a very real danger—they lost several disciples to them and a local goes missing every other month—but there are other dangers out here too.

Dangers that would want to eat Jiang Cheng if he’s not careful and so he hurriedly steps into the circle.

Better the Nie’s than a wild animal, Jiang Cheng is sure of that. A wild animal promises a painful death. The Nie’s are rumoured to be more cunning. He might have a chance with them.

“Please, please, please,” he whispers as he spins around in the circle, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that seems out of the ordinary but there is nothing.

No glow, no strange wind, nothing.

Until he blinks and suddenly there are two men standing in front of him.

Fae are supposed to be graceful and thin, inhumanly beautiful and pale but the two in front of him are barely anything like that.

The inhumanly beautiful part Jiang Cheng will give them, and while one of them is a bit on the smaller side, they both have sun-kissed skin and dark hair. And the tall one especially doesn’t fit the graceful and thin description.

“Pretty,” the smaller one says, his eyes fixed on Jiang Cheng.

“A filthy human,” the taller one hisses out and Jiang Cheng takes a step back in fear before he remembers himself.

This is what he wants.

“Mh,” the smaller one thoughtfully hums and starts to circle around Jiang Cheng.

“Huaisang, what are you doing?”

“He stepped into our ring, and he doesn’t seem afraid. Do you think it was deliberate?”

“Humans are stupid. How deliberate could it have been. Look at him, he’s afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Jiang Cheng tells them. “I’m just not stupid. I know you can kill me in seconds if you wish.”

“Good,” Huaisang drawls at him, coming uncomfortably close.

It doesn’t seem as if he’s blinking at all.

“What do you want?”

“Da-ge,” Huaisang complaints, and glares at his brother. “You need to be more polite. Look,” he says and turns back to Jiang Cheng.

He smiles at him and a cold shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back. It only barely has to do with the sharp teeth Huaisang shows. The smile is cold and dangerous and promises him a world of regret, but Jiang Cheng is not going to go back.

He will not. If he has to die here, then that’s still better than what his parents want him to do.

“My name is Nie Huaisang,” he introduces himself. “And this is Nie Mingjue.”

Jiang Cheng relaxes when he realizes what Nie Huaisang is after and he even dares to give him a smile in return.

“And my name is Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Cheng,” he gives back with a slight bow but he still sees the triumphant look on Nie Huaisang’s face.

“That was stupid, little human,” Nie Mingjue tells him, though he doesn’t seem displeased. “Now you can’t get away.”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng says and meets Nie Mingjue’s gaze. “If you have something to eat for me, I would gladly take that as well.”

“You did not come here on accident,” Nie Huaisang mutters as he circles Jiang Cheng again and his gaze gets caught on his cheek.

Jiang Cheng guesses the handprint must still be there, bright and red.

“Who did that?”

“My mother,” Jiang Cheng replies and watches how Nie Mingjue narrows his eyes at him.

“So what? She slaps you one time and you run away?” he sneers and Jiang Cheng shouldn’t care what this fae thinks of him but the thought that he’s disappointed with Jiang Cheng cuts him deep.

“No,” he tells them. “This is just—this is nothing,” Jiang Cheng says, raising his fingers to touch his cheek. “They want to marry me off to Wen Xu.”

“The Wens,” Nie Mingjue hisses and suddenly he doesn’t look human anymore.

It’s as if his form contorts into something outside what Jiang Cheng’s brain can comprehend and all that’s left is a bone-chilling sense of danger.

“You’re with the Wens.”

Not even his voice sounds human anymore and Jiang Cheng can’t stop himself from taking a fearful step back.

“No, I’m not,” he still forces himself to say but it’s only when Nie Huaisang steps between them that he feels somewhat safe.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang warningly says and it seems to be enough because Nie Mingjue turns back into something that Jiang Cheng can actually look at.

“Get out of our woods. We don’t want your kind here,” Nie Mingjue says, already turning around as if he’s going to walk away and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what possesses him but he rushes forward and reaches out for Nie Mingjue’s sleeve.

“No, please, you can’t make me go back there, please,” he pleads but it’s not Nie Mingjue who answers him.

“Why not? You should feel honoured, no? The Wens are like royalty in your world, are they not?” Nie Huaisang asks, his head tilted in an entirely unhuman way.

Jiang Cheng feels as if he’s being pinned by the gaze of a predator and he thinks that thought is probably not that far off the truth.

“They are—something about them is strange. Something is not right with them,” Jiang Cheng admits and he shivers just remembering the way Wen Xu had looked at him as if he was delicious treat.

And not even in the sexy way.

It’s probably stupid, but Jiang Cheng had been more afraid of Wen Xu than he is of Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang right now even though they pose a real danger to him.

“Mh,” Nie Huaisang hums again and looks meaningfully at Nie Mingjue.

“We’re not taking him with us. You know what the Jiang’s did,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng feels all his hope running through his fingers.

“No, please, you have to take me. You know my name, that means you have to, right?” he desperately asks, tightening his grip on Nie Mingjue’s sleeve. “Please. Don’t send me back there, I can’t—”

Jiang Cheng cuts himself off with a sob because he truly doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he has to go back.

His mother promised him a punishment worse than the single slap. His father basically sold him off to the Wens, in an attempt to make Wei Wuxian heir to the clan and get rid of Jiang Cheng in one move.

And if Jiang Cheng doesn’t manage to get Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang to take him with them then he will have succeeded.

“You know what the Jiang’s did, right. You’re no innocent either,” Nie Mingjue almost spits out and Jiang Cheng nods.

“I know, they’ve been pushing back the woods for ages, cutting trees down where they could. My parents—I think they want to please the Wens. I—I was supposed to be Sect Leader one day. I would have made them stop but now—”

“Now you can’t even do that,” Nie Mingjue sneers at him and Jiang Cheng forces himself to meet his gaze.

“I can’t even do that,” he agrees. “But if you want to take back the parts that you lost, I can help you, I promise. If you take me with you, I’d be on your side.”

“You humans are all liars,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng blinks at him.

“Strange,” he wonders. “That is what everyone says about you, too.”

That gets a reaction out of Nie Mingjue, who visibly bristles at his words.

“How dare you! We stand by our word, always!” Nie Mingjue says just as Nie Huaisang chuckles in Jiang Cheng’s back.

“Come on, da-ge, you have to admit that he has spirit. And you must be partial to him otherwise he’d be without his hand by now,” he adds with a teasing tone and Jiang Cheng drops his eyes to his hand that is still clutched around Nie Mingjue’s sleeve.

“Oh, sorry,” Jiang Cheng rushes out as he takes his hand back. “I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to—sorry,” he trails off, overly aware of how his face heats under Nie Mingjue’s piercing gaze.

“Don’t do it again,” Nie Mingjue gruffly says and Nie Huaisang snickers again. “And you shut up,” Nie Mingjue snaps at him, which of course only makes Nie Huaisang laugh more.

“Will you take me with you?” Jiang Cheng asks Nie Mingjue again, emboldened by Nie Huaisang’s words, but his heart drops when Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“No.”

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth, desperately trying to think of a solution.

“If I consume something of fae-origin then you’ll have to, right?” Jiang Cheng asks, an idea forming in his head.

It might get him killed, but it’s worth a try. He’s not going back.

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang says. “But there’s nothing here,” he goes on, but when Jiang Cheng looks at him he can see an excited glint in his eyes.

Maybe Nie Huaisang already caught on to what he is going to do.

“You’re wrong,” Jiang Cheng says and then reaches for Nie Mingjue’s head, getting his hand onto his neck and pulling him down just as he’s rising up on his toes.

The kiss is not a particularly nice one, mostly because Nie Mingjue seems slack with surprise and Jiang Cheng is too desperate to pry his mouth open with his own tongue, but it gets better when Nie Mingjue starts to react.

He kisses back for one glorious second, turning the kiss into something hot and toe-curling, before he pushes Jiang Cheng away.

“What the—”

“That counts, right?” Jiang Cheng asks, and it has to, it simply has to, because he can still taste Nie Mingjue on his lips.

“It does,” Nie Huaisang giggles out, hiding behind a newly procured fan.  “Now we have to take him, da-ge.”

“Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue bellows and Jiang Cheng was not prepared to see him go red in the face.

It’s entirely too endearing.

“Now that you’ll officially belong to us, you better bow to your new king,” Nie Huaisang says, while Nie Mingjue is rubbing a hand over his face, clearly embarrassed.

Jiang Cheng turns a questioning gaze on Nie Mingjue but he shakes his head and points at Nie Huaisang.

“Him. Don’t look at me like that. Do I look like I can sweet-talk and deceive people into doing what I want?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng blinks.

He feels a bit unsteady as he turns back around to Nie Huaisang.

“You came out personally to deal with me?” he whispers, even as he falls into a bow that he hopes is appropriately deep enough.

“I was bored,” Nie Huaisang says and immediately lifts Jiang Cheng out of it again. “Enough, that’s enough, welcome to the family!”

“I’m—what now?” Jiang Cheng asks, feeling completely overwhelmed.

“It’s not often that da-ge takes a liking to someone, of course you’re family now.”

“Takes a liking to someone?” Jiang Cheng repeats, turning around to Nie Mingjue. “To me?”

“You’re not the first one to try that trick,” Nie Huaisang whispers into his ear as Nie Mingjue avoids his eyes. “You’re just the first one da-ge allowed to succeed.”

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue sighs out but Jiang Cheng can still see the faint blush on his face.

“Why me?”

“Seriously?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and scrubs a hand over his face when Jiang Cheng nods. “You come in here, all daring and demanding and you think that’s not going to impress, especially when you don’t back down for anything? Besides, not many people can sense that something is off with the Wens.”

“You’re also cute, that helps too, I guess,” Nie Huaisang offhandedly says and now it’s Jiang Cheng’s turn to blush. “But you already had him when you revealed that it was your mother who hit you.”

“Family is not supposed to turn on each other. That’s unacceptable.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind rapidly goes through all the people who have gone missing over the last year or so, and his eyes go big when he sees the pattern.

“You took them all in? All the people who came here before?”

“Most of them,” Nie Huaisang shrugs. “We are not the monsters in this story, Wanyin.”

“So the Wens—”

“That is a conversation for another time,” Nie Huaisang decides and pushes Jiang Cheng closer to Nie Mingjue. “Let’s go home first, we can have the hard conversations over some good food.”

“He’s right, you know,” Nie Mingjue says and carefully puts a hand to Jiang Cheng’s hip. “Let’s get you to your new home.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng agrees, leaning into the contact and watching a slight smile tug on Nie Mingjue’s lips.

Jiang Cheng came into these woods to be a prisoner at best and dead at worst. He did not expect to find a new home and family and maybe even more with Nie Mingjue.

Link to my ko-fi

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Witch, Magician and Distrust (Part I)

You are a student of a fairy princess and part-time witch. Once you get to the "Fearless Seven" who have become dwarves, you decide to take the opportunity and help them dispel the curse. Of course, it's not that simple. First they need to learn to see the true beauty in other people.

~

Just don't ask me how I came to this fanfiction. I watch movies too rarely.

Parts: II

~

Who are witches? Beautiful young girls who want to win the pathetic love of the king and his kingdom? Old women living in the wilderness in huts, sending curses and eating children? Maybe someone even more terrible and disgusting, threatening society?

Well, it's not about you anyway.

You grew up in a family where people were not related to you by blood. You didn't know your real parents and didn't want to know. You grew up as a simple child, listening to stories about adventures, magic, princesses and princes.

You didn't know what talent you had. But your foster parents knew. And they tried to hide your true "dark nature" from you as long as possible.

Therefore, your upbringing was based on a few words: "kindness", "help to those in need", "escape from any unnecessary attention". This was done so that if your magic does awaken, you have a chance for a happy life without villainy.

When your magic first awoke, you were in shock and too scared to think straight. You ran off into the woods, loudly shouting apologies to the boy who was accidentally struck by lightning. You couldn't see anything because of the tears, your heart was beating fast, and the darkness around you didn't scare... exactly until the moment you realized where you were.

You were deep in the forest and didn't know where to go. Falling to your knees, you burst into tears even more. The forest seemed to enjoy your suffering and sobbing.

But suddenly a woman with green skin appeared next to her, looking like a witch. You screamed in fright and tried to escape, but her hand firmly grabbed your wrist. You tried to get out, but soon realized that everything was in vain.

The woman asked you why you were in the forest so late. Sobbing and stuttering, you told her about how you wounded a neighbor's boy. The woman listened to you, nodded, and then led you back to the village.

The stranger turned out to be a fairy princess. She saw the potential in you and offered to direct the magic inside to something good. You were only "for".

Your training was long, but you enjoyed using magic to help people. Of course, your "tainted blood" sometimes got the better of you, and you did minor dirty tricks, but nothing that people could start shouting at the very sight of you: "Run! The Witch is coming!"

When you first saw the Fearless Seven, you were quite excited. You thought you could have a nice chat with them and find out the reasons why they decided to save people. Maybe even learn a couple of spells from their leader, Merlin! But you were cruelly deceived by your hopes.

There was no nice conversation that day. That day you were cornered, clutching a lost child to you. The baby cried and tried harder to hide in your mantle.

You watched with shock and slight fright the lightning bolts running along the fingertips of the team leader. Your thoughts were running back and forth, you tried not to be distracted by beautiful young men, which was quite difficult. Your cheeks were red, your hands were shaking, you couldn't remember a single spell.

–Give us the child, witch, – Merlin said suddenly, and you shuddered. He pronounced the word "witch" with a mixture of disgust, annoyance and superiority.

You frowned, opening your mouth to hiss at him in displeasure. How is your magic worse than this boy's magic? In theory, you are even stronger than him, given the fact that many witches are able to take power from the environment! You were about to yell at the "Fearless Seven" when you suddenly noticed that they all dangerously hold their weapons. A little more, and you will simply be pierced with everything you can!

Your rage has abruptly disappeared. You smiled crookedly out of fear for your life and opened your mouth again, but this time to ask at least to talk. But the guys' faces clearly informed you that there would be no conversation.

And at that moment, a dark green fog took over everything around. You coughed, looking around in surprise. You didn't use any spell, so what is it? Suddenly, your mentor's hands were on your shoulders. The princess winked and moved you away to the nearest village, where the child's parents were waiting for him.

And while the people in the background were happily hugging each other, you looked sadly at your teacher. The woman patted you on the cheek and smiled.

–They do their job, (Y/N). They thought you stole the baby. Their distrust of you is understandable. Do you want us to go to them and introduce you as a good witch?

You immediately cheered up and nodded. The woman pinched your cheek and smiled even wider.

Unfortunately, it didn't work out. Your mentor was abducted by a dragon. You immediately rushed to save her, grabbing your broom and flying in search of a woman.

When you reached the city where the dragon flew, your mentor was saved. You wanted to rush to hug her and thank the heroes with joy, but suddenly the famous "Fearless Seven" made a big mistake. Young people attacked your mentor.

You watched with slack jaw and wide-open eyes as Merlin struck the princess with his lightning bolts, and his comrades rushed at the woman with weapons. Some man even came up to you and put the lower jaw back in place, saying that a fly would fly in there. You slowly turned your head towards him, pointing your finger at the stage, unable to move or speak.

When it was over, you were still able to rush forward to check if the woman was okay. She certainly wasn't hurt. You looked in the direction of the "Fearless Seven", epic going into the sunset, and raised your hand, ready to curse a person for the first time in your life.

But your teacher slowly stood up, shook her head and opened her wings, enhancing her magic. You stepped aside and nodded silently, letting the princess do the whole thing herself.

And so people were cursed and turned into little gnomes. You left the city with a woman while continuing your studies.

After about a year, you were officially a fully trained witch. Your mentor has gone on vacation, allowing you to travel the world on your own. She gave you a bell before leaving, saying that you could always ring it if something happened.

–I will arrive at any moment to help you, my little witch, – she said finally, patting you on the head before going to rest.

So, in just a month you have visited all your friends, "parents", and also helped many people. Having decided to start saving the princesses, because the "Fearless Seven" apparently disappeared for some reason, you stopped in a small town, from which you quickly flew on.

And in vain! The broom went out of control because of the storm. Besides, there was a full moon, your powers became a little unstable. In the end, you could only squeeze the broom shaft hard and pray that you didn't fall off and turn into a dead pile.

The bell rang on your belt, creating a beautiful melody along with the thunder. Magic had to be poured into a small metal object to make it work. You could also call it and say "I need help", and then your mentor will also come to your call. But so far you haven't been up to bells. You were screaming, feeling that your stomach would fall out of your mouth at the next sharp movement of the broom. Your knuckles turned pale, you almost didn't feel your hands from the cold. It was only a matter of time before you hit something.

So, after a long time of flight, you flew into a tree near a strange house on a hill. Fortunately, the foliage was quite soft, so you didn't break anything. The bell also worked as a protective talisman, so you weren't hurt. When you fell to the ground, you only hit your cheek hard, but you had no problems with treating wounds.

So you grabbed your broom and hurried into the house before the rain reached you... again. After knocking, you did not wait for an answer. Mentally apologizing to the owners, you went inside, breaking the lock with a master key. What? You're still an evil, evil witch!

The house was warm, smelled vaguely of food. You dried your clothes and broom by the fireplace, which you lit with magic. You settled down on a small sofa and waited for the owners to come. But they still weren't there... so you just fell asleep, hiding behind your mantle and hat. You hoped that you would be able to sense their presence before they discovered you.

*+*

–Hey, hey, hurry up! Our house has been attacked!

–Who could attack us? Who needs a house of green dwarfs? – Hans asked, pointing at himself. He was carrying a large basket of food with him and didn't want to engage in fights at the moment. He wanted to cook!

–Thanks for reminding me, Hans! – Jack said irritably, looking at himself in the mirror. – Your words always hit the very middle of the target.

– I'm serious, we were attacked! – Arthur shouted, pointing at the tree. – Or at least our vegetation.

–M-m, a silhouette? – Jack stepped forward, noticing the uneven foliage. – I'm a silhouette professional. And it's definitely the silhouette of a witch! – the prince pointed to the bars that lay at the feet of Merlin, who is currently actively examining the remains of the broom.

–Wait, wait, let's not jump to conclusions! – Hans was next to me in the same second. – What if it's not a witch, eh?.. – pause. – Okay, it's definitely a witch.

–It could be the witch who cursed us! – Merlin pointed to the outline of a body on the foliage. – We have to catch her and make her lift the curse!

The dwarves nodded to each other and almost all went towards the front door to trap the witch.

*+*

When you opened your eyes and turned your head to the side, a ray of sunlight hit you in the eye. Hissing softly, you jumped up, looking around.

Did I fall asleep?! You looked around the room in a panic. No one has been here since yesterday. Phew, and I already thought that the owners were scared of me and ran away.

You exhaled with relief and picked up your broom. Putting it near the entrance, you decided to write a note and leave some sweets bought in the city. Yes, you could have left just like that, but that's not what your mentor taught you!

So, you wrote your letter using the wall as a table. You were completely focused on the words that you were writing with your own hands, that you didn't even notice how someone got close to the house…

You had a second to notice the enemy…

Suddenly the door swung open and you turned your head, smiling shyly at the owners. When no one was found at eye level, you slowly lowered your head and saw the little gnomes frozen at your appearance.

The paper on which you tried to write the words in a neat handwriting was abruptly crumpled and dropped to the floor.

–You!.. – you screamed, filled with anger.

–The witch! – they answered you, interrupting. The six dwarves charged.

Wait, six? You abruptly turned around and stretched out your hand using your strength. The wok froze in the air, and then flew away with the dwarf.

You felt the back of the neck of the zipper. Closing your eyes, you remembered that fear the last time you met Merlin. But now you weren't going to give up and let someone save you.

Putting your hand on the bell, you turned to the magician and shouted, clicking your hand. His medallions immediately crumbled into dust, the fire licked the gnome's hands a little.

You also dealt with the rest quickly. You were angry, but you tried not to hurt the members of the Fearless Seven. You didn't come to kill them. You didn't even come to humiliate them, but why not?

So, as soon as everyone was defeated and scattered in the corners, you went to the door with a proud gait. You were about to grab a broom and fly away, when you suddenly realized that there was no broom!

–Yeah! – twitching, you stared at Merlin holding your broom and almost shoving it into the fireplace! You wanted to save your mentor's gift, but with each movement the guy only brought the tree closer to the fire. – Stay where you are, witch! Otherwise, your broom will be destroyed!

–Y-you won't dare! – you shouted in a squeaky voice, panicking. Meanwhile, the rest of the dwarves were recovering and grabbing their weapons.

–How dare I! So stay where you are!

You had to listen.

Merlin ordered you to slowly raise your hands and not resist. You couldn't disobey, especially when your broom was at stake! She's almost like a mother to you! Sister! Any other relative! You can't let a stupid magician destroy her!

So, in the end, you ended up tied up. Merlin held your broom in his hands like a trophy. You wanted to kick him in the face. Your fingers were clutching the bell, you were ready to ask your mentor for help.

–Ha, we beat you, witch! – Arthur said happily.

–And what are you going to do with me next? – you asked without much enthusiasm, without taking your eyes off the broom.

–We, – Hans stuttered, but quickly shut up.

There was silence. You sighed and rolled your eyes, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

–In theory, we should destroy you ... – muttered Hans, looking at your face. – But I'm not quite sure... Merlin, is she definitely a witch?

–I can feel it, – the magician beat himself on the arm with a broom. – And since she's a witch... oh, you should know that disgusting-looking woman who cursed us!

–She doesn't look disgusting! Don't you dare say that about my mentor! – you shouted, pursing your lips.

And again silence…

Three voices belonging to triplets:

–A mentor?

–The teacher?

–Professors?

–Yes. That "disgusting looking woman" is my teacher.

–Yeah! – Merlin pointed his finger in your face. – Then you should know exactly where she is!

–Why would I help you? – you asked with a displeased face. – You tried to kill me before and beat my mentor badly.

– I still have your broom, – the guy pointed to the magic item.

–And if I tell you that I can get out of these ropes in a second and break something for you?

–I don't think you can beat me in anything: in magic or in physical strength. And we always have Arthur for that.

The brown-haired prince nodded gravely.

You rolled your eyes and hugged your knees to your chest, looking at the dwarves. Merlin was very foolish not to seal your magic power as soon as the ropes bound your body. And even if you can't do it yourself, you can always call a mentor. But…

For some reason you wanted to help these little green men. Maybe because everyone deserves redemption and love? And interaction with them, perhaps, would help these people in the guise of dwarves to become a little better?..

(And get the status of the savior of the "Fearless Seven").

Of course, you weren't going to take them to your mentor directly. She still had a vacation! But no one knows that you can summon her at any time, right?

– Well, – you said, stretching the vowels, – I agree to help you, – the dwarves looked at each other quite triumphantly. – But with one condition, – everyone immediately stared at you. – you will not restrict my freedom and magic, – you pointedly looked at Merlin. – And also return the broom, it is dear to me.

The dwarves pondered, and then gathered in a small circle. They started whispering to each other until eventually Merlin came out to you, burning with his gaze.

–Why should we trust you, witch?

–First of all, I have a name…

–You all look the same.

–...and secondly, do you have a choice? Only I know where I can find the fairy princess. So you either cooperate with me, or I quickly find a way to escape from here and leave you.

The dwarves talked to each other again. Then Merlin said the final answer:

–All right, witch. We agree. But if I notice that you're doing your filthy magic somewhere near us, I'll turn you into ashes with my lightning bolts.

It would sound more epic if you weren't almost three times shorter than me. You giggled. Merlin pouted. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, also agreeing to these conditions.

Soon you were untied. Merlin was watching you closely, squinting. Hans poured you some tea, and while you were enjoying the taste of the drink.

–So, where is your mentor, petite sorcière? – Jack asked, straightening his hair without even looking at you.

–Um, we'll be able to meet her in about a month, when there's the next full moon. Until that moment, I will not be able to introduce you to her in any way, – you pretended to sigh with sadness.

–I think the word 'talk' is more appropriate here, – Hans shouted from the kitchen.

–I think the word "fight" would be best here, – Arthur corrected.

–Anyway, – Merlin snapped his fingers, drawing attention to himself. – And what are you going to do all this time?"

–What do you mean I'm going to?

–We're not going to let you go anywhere.

–This is our only chance to get back to normal, – Jack took out a hygienic lipstick and began to take care of his lips.

–But what about the opportunity to break the curse with a kiss?

–No one wants to kiss us with such faces, – Merlin poked his cheek. – Especially the most beautiful woman in the world!

You opened your mouth, but immediately closed it. Let him think for himself, idiot.

–In that case, I'll stay here. I'll go back and forth, help you with the housework. I'm good at making potions, if you want to know. Will that be enough?

Merlin thought, and then nodded. He sat down opposite you and said dangerously low:

–I'm watching you, witch.

–(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).

– It doesn't change anything.

Cheeky boy! Well, nothing. I'll show you that I have a little "tainted blood" in me.

[zafirosreverie]

Por amor al arte (Julieta x Fem!Reader) part 2

part 1 < >next

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The following minutes were devastating for Julieta. The woman was still in shock, clinging to the lifeless body of her husband when she realized that her youngest daughter was nowhere in sight. Her heart, already broken, skipped a beat.

"Mirabel?" she called her "Mirabel!"

She got up quickly, reluctantly leaving Agustín's body on the ground. She looked frantically around her. Please, she couldn't lose her too, her heart wouldn't take it.

"MIRABEL!"

The rest of the family moved quickly, Isabela and Luisa running to their mother, Dolores and Camilo looking around to see if they could spot their cousin. But she wasn't there.

You watched with rage and pain as most of the town's people slowly walked away. Some muttering things about how it was better to leave them alone and not get into family trouble. You couldn't believe such apathy! They had just lost a family member in a tragic way a few minutes ago and now a little girl was missing, and no one was planning to do anything?! After everything the Madrigals had done for the entire town, they were just going to turn their backs on them?! Not on your watch.

You approached the broken family with firm steps, trying to avoid looking at Agustín's still very present corpse, and you walked up to the desperate mother and sisters.

"I'll look for her in the woods, near the river" you said firmly.

You hoped your words would be taken as an offer to help and not an intrusion. Fortunately, Julieta looked at you gratefully and your voice seemed to awaken something in the few people present. The family quickly organized into pairs and a few villagers joined the search.

You went quickly to your house to tell your brother what had happened. He offered to go with you and you wrapped Eliza in a rebozo that you threw behind your back and went out with a light in hand to look for Mirabel.

You prayed that the girl was okay and would come back soon.

You didn't wish the pain of losing a child on anyone. Much less someone who had just lost her husband as well.

_______________________

Julieta felt her world falling apart as she screamed the name of her youngest daughter. Her brain was unable to catch up with everything that had happened.

It had been a normal day. And then suddenly everything had been falling apart. Bruno's prophecy, the cracks, mom yelling at Mirabel, the candle, the house falling. Agustín shouting their daughter's name. Agustín, cold and stiff in her arms. Mirabel missing.

Why was all this happening?! What had she done wrong to deserve so many punishments?

"Please let her be okay. Let her come back to me" she prayed, to whoever wanted to hear her.

She heard her family shouting Mirabel's name and in the distance, she could see a couple, the woman was carrying a baby on her back and the man was holding a lamp. She recognized you.

And for a brief moment, she allowed herself to feel a little hope. She would always be grateful to you for stepping up. If you hadn't, she would probably still be in shock, helpless to do anything for her daughter.

Whoever you were, you were an angel to her. A light in the midst of the darkness that wanted to consume her.

--------------------------------

It had been dawn for several hours and you had found nothing. You breathed a sigh of relief when the church bells rang, indicating that Mirabel had been found.

"Thank you, for returning a daughter to her mother" you thought.

Karim and you headed to the ruins of the Madrigal house, to make sure the girl was okay. You knew that the unfortunate family still had a lot to deal with, homeless and with death in tow. But you would see where you could help, and at least the girl's return was a step in a brighter direction.

However, not everyone shared your enthusiasm.

Julieta threw herself into her daughter's arms the moment she saw her. She pressed her against her chest and hid her face in her dark hair. The fear she still had made her tremble.

Mirabel whispered apologies into her mother's shoulder as her sisters joined in the hug. None of the four wanted to let go, for fear that one of them would disappear again. Still, they felt the absence of the fifth person in their family.

In the end, it was Camilo who broke the false sense of security when he pointed out the lack of a home. Julieta did her best not to look at the pile of rocks where Agustín still rested.

Nobody moved or said anything until Mirabel said what they all knew, that they will have to rebuild the house. Bless her precious girl, she encouraged everyone, assuring them that they didn't need gifts to be special. And then her mother revealed Bruno's presence and she and Pepa ran to meet the brother they had cried for years.

Tangled between the extremities of her siblings, Julieta felt dizzy. The happiness of having her brother back warred with the sadness of losing her husband, tearing at her insides and making her feel like there was a whirlwind in her.

In the end, it was her precious Isabela who mentioned the need to do something with her father. The young woman was right in saying that they couldn't leave him there, being exposed to the weather would only accelerate the decomposition of the body and put everyone at risk. And without Julieta's gift, they couldn't risk someone getting sick from it. It was hard, but it was necessary.

It was decided that he would be buried the next day. After hours of searching for Mirabel, no one had the physical or mental energy for a funeral.

Then came the next problem, raised by Camilo once again: where would they stay? They no longer had a house, they didn't have beds, clothes, blankets, food. They had nothing. Fear filled them again and anguish could be felt. They were adrift.

Everyone present could see it, including you. You could see reflected in their faces the same fear you felt when Daniel left you on your own. You could see in Alma the pain of losing a home and failing the family, you saw in the youngest the fear of what awaited them. You saw in Pepa and Julieta the impotence of not being able to promise their children that everything would be fine.

You saw in the villagers the same apathy that had greeted you that time. You saw the indifference, the false look of compassion. And you saw in your brother the same look of hope that he had given you. He had been your light and rock when you needed him. And now it was your turn to be that for someone else.

So, with your baby in your arms, you approached them and hoped that once again they would take your words well.

"Excuse me" you said softly, turning to Alma "I don't have more than a workshop and a medium-sized house to offer. But if you can share rooms, I'm sure we'll all fit"

You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Karim looked at you with pride, the younger with hope, the adults with gratitude, and Alma with respect and curiosity. You were a young girl with a baby in arms. And even though she didn't see you that often, she knew who you were, she knew your story. She knew you only had your daughter and your brother. And yet, here you were, doing what no one else seemed willing to do, offering them your home, offering them your own haven.

You were something else without a doubt.

"Thank you very much, my dear" the matriarch smiled at you.

You smiled back with a soft nod. You didn't miss the looks of others. You were suddenly a pillar to cling to.

You waited for them to approach you, assuring them that you could lend the women clothes and pajamas, while Karim offered to share with Camilo, Bruno, and Félix. No one had the energy to search through the rubble to see what they could save.

Only Julieta stayed behind.

Your brother offered to stay with her so she wouldn't get lost. You saw that her daughters wanted to protest but in the end, they decided to let her mother have a moment to mourn their father alone. She needed it.

Thus, you walked back home with the entire Madrigal clan behind you. You offered a soft prayer for them, to whoever would listen to you.

-----------------------

You didn't lie when you said your house was average, but luckily everyone managed to settle down.

You offered Alma your own room, thinking that she would be more comfortable with a bed of her own; Since there was no room to fit a cot, she would not share it with anyone. She thanked you deeply.

Pepa and Felix took the second room, the guest room, and Antonio decided to sleep with them. The poor kid was traumatized (they all were, actually). Neither of his parents objected.

The girls took the largest to fit the four of them, with Dolores and Luisa on cots and Mirabel and Isabela sleeping on the mattresses that your brother had brought.

To make more space, you decided to empty your workshop, moving all the things to Karim's (much smaller) house, so that Camilo and Bruno would sleep there.

The last available room was Eliza's nursery. You tried to move the crib to your brother's house, but with all the stuff from your workshop taking over his entire house, it soon became obvious that you couldn't sleep with him. So you pushed the crib and a mattress as far as you could against the wall, leaving the bed for Julieta.

The woman didn't protest having to share with you, in fact, she seemed relieved by it and turned down her niece's offer to switch places with her. You got it. She wasn't ready to face her daughters, not yet. And you weren't going to be the first to give her condolences or mention her loss. There would be time for that later.

However, you were worried that your daughter would cry at night and disturb the woman. God knew she needed to rest as much as she could. But to your surprise, Eliza woke up only once, but she didn't cry. The five-month-old baby just sat unsteadily and looked at the foreign woman in her room, as if she was analyzing her presence, and went back to sleep.

It surprised you, but you were grateful that she hadn't cried. In the dark, you didn't realize that Julieta had returned Eliza's gaze.

------------------------

Julieta tag: @emril-osvigne

[ramzawrites]

requesting an angsty fic where reader is schlatts kid and they have the same features as him, namely the horns so people avoid them because of what schlatt did, it leads to reader hating their horns and cutting them off/ ripping them out and someone finds them crying, covered in blood with their horns just on the ground or smth, set after schlatts death btw

A Painful Reminder - Dad!Schlatt and Reader - Part 1

Part 2

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Niki, (mentioned) Schlatt, (mentioned) Techno

Warnings: self harm (destroying own horns with a blunt object), mention of blood, abondenment, depression, cursing

Series: an angst request!

Summary: Y/N is the child of Schlatt and after his death tried their best to deal with the grief. Hoping to connect with people only to painfully realize that their horns are a painful reminder to everyone for Schlatt’s rule and therefore try to stay as far as possible from them.

Words count: 2428

Authors Note: I hope this is fine! I struggled a bit with it and I think you can tell, I apologize for that. I’m honestly not that good with angst but if you enjoy it I’m happy!! Please give me feedback on how to get better at angst :o

I love you guys and please take care of yourself 💙

After Schlatt died and Pogtopia effectively won the war against Manberg only for the nation to get blown up by Wilbur, the people tried their best to rebuild with the help of Tubbo as the new president.

There was a new sense of hope that swept through the nation. They all suffered greatly to get to this place but this was a turning point for most. A time for healing. A time for rebuilding what was lost. A time for grief.

While Y/N spent most of their time building up their own home inside L’Manberg, they were struggling a lot with grief.

They mourned for the loss of the only parent they had in their life, Schlatt.

The president of Manburg, the tyrant that died surrounded by his enemies inside a van. The only parent of Y/N.

The relationship between the two was complicated to say the least. Deep inside they still loved their father but he brought so much pain and even bloodshed on people that they couldn’t in good conscience support him.

For the longest time they tried their best trying to persuade him, that he would change his way but he never listened. Either too full with his own ego or too drunk to care. The last straw that broke the camel’s back for Y/N was when Schlatt ordered Tubbo’s execution.

The emotions they felt while they yelled and wailed at Schlatt to stop this madness was still fresh in their mind whenever their thoughts lingered back to that day. Quackity had to  physically restrain and pull them back on Schlatt’s orders.

It was the moment they realized that there was no way for them to reach Schlatt anymore. He was set in his way and nothing could change that.

After their death to Technoblade’s blood lust during the festival, they ran away and spoke with Tommy. Y/N didn’t want to kill Schlatt but they saw in Pogtopia a chance to stop him. Make him see what he has done. Make him responsible for his actions.

Only this never came to pass. Schlatt died inside a dirty van. A heart attack or a stroke. Y/N didn’t know, nor did they care. He was dead either way.

While everyone was rebuilding and trying to fall back into a normal day to day life. Y/N was lost. They didn’t feel particularly close to anyone nor did the other seem to trust them. Their eyes were always drawn towards Y/N’s horns resting on their head.

During Schlatt’s rule they became somewhat of a symbol. A symbol for himself, for pain, for blood, for tyranny. So when Y/N walked around town the others couldn’t help but stare at these oh so similar horns that reminded them of a past best forgotten.

It made Y/N unsure of themself. It was a physical proof of their connection to their father. It was a double edged sword. In the past they loved that they inherited similar Hybrid traits like their father but now it was the reason why everyone seemed to avoid them.

The people wanted to move on but these damn horns pulled them back whenever their eyes fell on them. Y/N wasn’t stupid. They noticed this pretty fast.

Hell, if anything the funeral was the best proof for that. Bad tried his best to keep everyone under control and have a proper funeral but everyone was too busy celebrating. Talking about stealing his bones. Destroying a picture of him.

All while Y/N sat in the back. They had hoped they could use this funeral as a way to finally say goodbye, let go off the pain and regret but all this chaos just made them realize that the people will never properly accept them due to their relation with Schlatt.

Schlatt may have put all of the people through a horrible and unforgivable time but he effectively snuffed out any chance for Y/N to live a normal life between these people. This legacy of his for Y/N stung almost deeper than all the time he insulted them or flat out ignored them. It made them wonder if he ever realized what he did to his own child. Even if he did Y/N wasn’t sure he cared enough to do anything about it.

Y/N wrung their hands as they stood in front of Niki’s and Puffy’s flower shop. The money ready in their hands so this transaction could happen faster but even so they were too nervous to step in.

After some mental pep talk they finally slowly pushed the wooden door open. To their horror it begun creaking which made them wince. There was no way Niki hasn’t noticed them walking in seeing how she stood at the counter but still Y/N didn’t want to put more attention on themself than they absolutely had to.

“Oh.” Was all Niki said. She almost sounded disappointed. Y/N realized that she probably would have happily greeted anyone else coming into the shop but them.

Their eyes were glued to the ground. As they suddenly became overly aware of their horns, it felt like their weight increased immensely. Almost as if they tried to press down on Y/N. It made them feel as small and worthless as possible under the gaze of other people.

Y/N put the money on the counter as soon as they reached it “A full bouquet of purple hyacinth, please.”

“Alright.” Niki immediately moved away in order to make the bouquet ready. Though Y/N didn’t watch, they were now staring at the wood of the counter. Following he natural lines of it with their eyes as they patiently waited.

After a few minutes Niki placed the flowers in front of Y/N which pulled them out of their thoughts and made them look up. Niki forced a smile on but she still looked almost stern. Soft crevices building up as her eyebrows formed a painful frown.

“This is too much.” Niki begun pushing some of the money back towards Y/N but they shook their head.

“It’s a tip.”

Picking the flowers up into their arms they tried to put on a genuine smile before turning around to walk out of the shop.

Before they exited the shop they could hear Niki say a soft “Thanks.”

That was basically how every conversation with anyone went. Only short and the most necessary words. At first Y/N tried to start genuine conversation but they soon noticed how the others wouldn’t react. Just trying to get as fast as possible through this conversation. Their eyes always directed on Y/N’s horns.

After Y/N placed the flowers in front of Schlatt’s grave, like they did every week, they made their way towards the river.

Sometimes they would spend their time there since it’s a bit farther away from the city, so it was rare to see someone else hanging out there. Y/N mostly used this place to fish in peace. If they fished anywhere near the others their stares and frowns weighed too heavy down on them.

As they sat at the bank of the river, preparing their fishing line, their eyes fell unto their own reflection.

Dark circles adorned their eyes from their countless restless nights. Only falling asleep after hours of crying.

They couldn’t help but put the blame on their horns. Their god damn horns. Y/N hated them. Hated them so much. What would their life be like without them? Would the others still eye them so incredibly cautiously? Would they give Y/N a chance? After all Y/N was vocal about the fact that they didn’t support any of Schlatt’s decisions. For the longest time they tried to help the others through the hard times!

Yet, now as he was dead, they only showed Y/N the cold shoulder. If it wasn’t Y/N themself then the reason has to entirely lay on the horns. It was a too strong reminder of Schlatt.

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips. Tears now falling down their cheeks onto the green grass. No one was around so they didn’t mind crying loudly like this.

It was just so unfair. They did everything they could and yet all they reaped was disdain from the people and in a sick twist Y/N couldn’t even fault them for it. Whenever they saw their own reflection, their own eyes would be drawn to their dark horns after all.

Back in the day they were always happy looking at them but now they were the reason for Y/N being abandoned by everyone. They used to be somewhat good friends with Quackity due to his position as Schlatt’s Vice President and even he ignored them as soon as Schlatt was dead.

They had no one and at fault were these stupid, ugly horns.

Y/N let the fishing rod fall to the ground as they continued staring at their reflection. Trembling as they sobbed. Feeling so lonely with no way out.

What could they do? Put on a hat? There is no hat big enough to hide their horns. No, the horns had to go. There was no other way.

Shakily their hand snaked through the grass towards the water. Slowly submerging it into the ice cold liquid as the hand continued searching for something. As their hand landed on a stone that fit perfectly in their palm they held it in front of their face. Inspecting it.

As if to test it they softly tapped the stone against the tip of their horn. Their head moving with it. It felt weird. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it was still a weird feeling as the soft vibration traveled through it.

Letting out a shaky breath they reached back with their arm. The stone in an iron grip.

They hated this.

They hated everything about this but what could they possibly do? What could they do to get a proper chance at a normal conversation with Niki while buying flowers? A proper chance to talk with Quackity again, the man who was right there with them as all the bullshit happened.

All they wanted was a real chance to connect with people.

Y/N let out a sobbing scream as the stone collided with their horn, ripping off a good part of the tip.

It softly splashed into the water. Getting stuck between rocks, slowly rocking with the water stream.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” They stammered between sobs as they once again pulled their arm back in order to strike the horn again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Their arm and hand hurt from constantly colliding with the hard material. A huge headache was now spreading through their head as they were sitting between broken pieces of what used to make up their horn.

But they weren’t done yet. The other side had to go as well.

With every new blow their whimpers would increase as well. At first a result of their hopelessness but it soon turned into an expression of pain. But they couldn’t give up. They had to keep going.

They had to get rid off this legacy Schlatt left them with.

After a particularly harsh blow they suddenly felt something warm slide down the side of their head.

Letting the stone fall down onto the ground they frantically stared at their own reflection in the water. It was blood.

Shocked they let out a shaky laugh. As much as it hurt and was horrible to look at, there weren’t any rest pieces of the horn resting on their head. So they picked the rock back up and with a blood curdling scream they slammed it into the other horn again, trying to get rid of the rest properly.

And it worked.

They were light headed from the pain, bleeding and crying but the horns were gone.

They were finally free of the curse.

“Finally.” They mumbled to themself only to finally take the time to rest and cry. They cried their god damn heart out. It was as if all the stress from the last couple of months finally jumped off their back.

Y/N’s back hit the soft ground as they slammed back, staring at the leaves up above them. Dancing with the wind and only occasionally giving away to the sun that was shining down on them.

Dark red blood staining the green grass. Their eyes growing heavier the more they continued to cry and hyperventilate. This pain is nothing. From this point on everything has to get better. It has to.

There was an audible gasp.

It wasn’t Y/N but they were too tired to look where it came from.

“Y/N? What the hell did you do? What happened? By Ender you are bleeding!” it was a male voice. Quackity? They weren’t too sure. Too delirious to tell.

Strong hands fell on their arms and pushed them up in a sitting position. Their head rolled back and they finally looked into Quackity’s pale face. So, they were right after all.

One of his arms went around their back in order to hold the crying Y/N upright as he took a better look at the wounds.

“I have to get you to someone who knows how to make healing pots. Maybe regeneration? Hell if I know. Did you do this? Your hands are covered in blood.” He was frantic.

Y/N shakily moved their hands up in order to grab Quackity’s hand that was holding their head in place and pushed it away from them, smearing his hand with their own blood “Don’t worry. I freed myself. The horns are gone. Now, you guys don’t have to be reminded of him anymore. We can all finally live in peace. No more reminders to him.”

Quackity’s eyes widened. His mouth opened up in an expression of pure shock. He hated that he could tell immediately what they meant exactly. After the war he did avoid them as much as he could. As Y/N said they, or rather their horns, reminded him too much of Schlatt and he needed time to heal but he never imagined this could lead to this.

He felt incredibly guilty. Realizing that he never really thought about what everyone’s behavior did to Y/N.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll find a way to help you.” His arm went under Y/N’s legs and with some straining he managed to get back up, holding them in his arms. Y/N leaned their head against Quackity’s chest, staining it with their blood in the process.

“See. It’s already working.” They whispered just before passing out.

“Fuck.” Quackity had to find someone who knew how to heal them as soon as possible. Jogging back into the city calling frantically out for help.

[thefanficmonster]

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

                                                                *  *  *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved.  However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

[thespiritoflife]

Could you write a Legolas x reader elf, the reader is Elronds daughter. Legolas and the reader are betrothed to one another, but have only exchanged letters due to their kingdoms being so far apart. She joins the dwarves on their journey during the Hobbit to help out. When they get surrounded by the wood elves she draws her bow at Legolas, he is shocked for a moment that an elf would be traveling with dwarves let alone defending one. Thranduil later reveals that the elf is in fact Legolas fiancé (First impressions lol). Idk what happens next, maybe his reaction?

Aww, interesting idea!! Here is the result, hope you like it!

Pairing: Legolas x Elf!reader

Warnings: grammatical errors, spiders?

Translations:

Arivae - sunlight

A conceited prince

Dear Y / N,

I've never seen you before, but I feel like I already know you very well.  I'm looking forward to finally getting to know you and finally being able to talk to you. After all, I have to get to know my fiancée personally, not only through letters.

I look forward to your next letter as well.  I like to read them, they get my mood better a lot, especially when I go into battle.  You are my sun.

Have a nice day, Arivae.

Legolas

The letter never came.

The letter never came from me.  I didn't have time to write to him.  But I hoped that with all this, when we will finally meet, I would explain it to him and he would understand.  He sounded like a wise elf from the letters.

I still carried his letter with me and read it.  It always made me happy.

I read it even now.

I was sitting on that stump, we were in a forest, we got lost. I was in a spider web the moment before and a gigantic spider wanted to eat me.  My friend Kili saved me.  And I was exhausted, so I decided that now was the time to read the letter.

"Y / N! Y / N! What are you doing?"  someone shouted.

I immediately hid the letter in my pocket.  "Nothing, Kili," I smiled.

But Kili didn't smile.  "Spiders are still here. We have to go."

I stood up.  "And where are the others?"  I asked.

"I don't know. They were here a while ago and ..." he didn't say as some spiders began to fall on us.

"Damn!"  I cursed and picked my bow.  I shot a few spiders between eyes, but there were too many.

"Kili! Behind you!"  I shouted as the spider pounced on him.

Kili wanted to stab it when the spider fell to the ground out of nowhere.

"What?"  I didn't understand, but I didn't have time to think.

It happened somehow fast.  I realized we weren't alone.  However, the spiders disappeared or some were dead.

Suddenly someone caught me.  That someone was an elf with dark hair.

"You're coming with us. And so are you," he shouted at us.

I sighed and glanced at Kili.  He was in a similar situation.

The elf led us deeper into the forest until we finally found ourselves among the other elves and dwarves.  At the same time, I was relieved that they were fine, but at the same time, I did not feel comfortable.

One blond-haired elf was talking with Glóin.  He looked at his memory, his wife and child.

"Lass! I'm so glad you're okay!"  Fili shouted and wanted to run to me, but the blond elf stopped him and aimed his bow at him.

I didn't hesitate and aimed my bow at him as well.  On that supercilious elf.

There was silence, and then the elf narrowed his eyes at me.  "An elven woman with dwarves? I don't see that very often."

I was still holding the bow.  "Stop aiming at my friend," I snapped.

"I'll stop if you stop aiming at me," he said.

I growled.

Fili looked at me.  "It's okay,"  he added.

Reluctantly, I gave up and laid my bow on the ground.  The elf stopped aiming at Fili but still had a bow with him.

"You will come with us," he said.

"Where?"  I shouted.

He chased me.  "You'll find out later,"

I had strange feelings about that elf.  I should have been glad that I was finally with the elves, my kind, not only with the dwarves, but something bothered me.  I knew he wouldn't hurt us.  But I wasn't sure why I was thinking this.

We had no choice but to submit.  To give up.

We found ourselves in a kingdom.  I had no idea where we were.

On the throne, however, sat the king, also the elf, and on his head was a crown of twigs.

The blond elf was still holding me, he didn't want to let me go.  The king noticed.

"Let go of that woman elf," he ordered.  He added. "She belongs among us."

The blond elf looked at me in disbelief but released me.

The king spoke.  He ignored the dwarves, only perceived me.  "Who are you, a beautiful rose?"

The blond elf turned away.

I was insecure.  "It doesn't matter. I'll keep my name to myself. I'm just asking you to let us go. We have done nothing wrong, Your Majesty."

He looked at me thoughtfully.  "Hmm .. I don't believe it. Then I'll talk to that ..." he looked at Thorin.

Thorin shrugged.

The king turned his attention back to me.  "It's a shame. It's a shame ..." he said.  I didn't understand what he meant.

He stopped focusing on me and looked at the guards.  "Throw them in the dungeon. Except for Thorin."

It wasn't exactly the most pleasant in the dungeon.  Although there were worse places than this, but ... the dungeon is a dungeon.

"My daughter! My daughter is in a dungeon!"  my father's voice echoed in my head.

I rolled my eyes.  "Yes, Dad, I am,"  I added in my mind and sighed. 

My father wasn't too happy when I wanted to join Thorin's company, but in the end, I was able to convince him.

"I still want to experience the adventure before the wedding,"  I told him and then he softened.

He agreed.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at my dungeon.  "The King wishes your presence," he explained, unlocking the dungeon.

The dwarves started cursing and begging me not to go, but I managed to calm them down.

Why?

I wondered as I followed him.

I found myself in the throne room again.  The king sat on the throne and the blond elf was there.

Thorin was there, too.  He looked angry.

The king from the throne and approached me.  "Mhm ... that's a coincidence to me. If you just know ..." he muttered under his nose.

"Why did you call me here?"  I asked.

The king was silent and grinned strangely.  He looked at the elf and me.

"You don't know who I am, do you? I'm Thranduil, the king of the wood elves."

Thranduil?  It seemed familiar to me.

A blond elf spoke.  "Why are you saying that? Why did you call her?"

Thranduil grinned again.  As if he had fun with us.

"You're Elrond's daughter, aren't you? Your name is Y / N. Then you haven't met my son yet."

The elf suddenly turned pale.

"His name is Legolas. Yes, that Legolas. You two are engaged."  Thranduil finished and went back to the throne.

Thorin cleared his throat.  "I'm sorry, Y / N. I accidentally told him your name."

"It's OK."  I lied, but it wasn't okay.

Legolas?  We stared at each other.  God, it was so embarrassing!

"You ... you ... you're Legolas?"  I couldn't believe it

He nodded slowly.  "And you .. Y / N."

"I ... I didn't know ... God, it shouldn't have ended like this. We shouldn't have met in circumstances like this ..."

"Yes. We shouldn't. Can you explain to me why you, my fiancée, joined Thorin's company? It's dangerous!"  he looked angrily.  He even came closer to me.

"Because I wanted to! Listen, just because I'm your fiancée doesn't mean I'll do what you want!"  I shouted.

Legolas blushed.  I felt that Legolas doesn't blush very often.

"And will you mainly explain to me why you didn't respond to me! I was afraid!"

He was afraid?

I stomped my feet.  "Because I didn't have time! I was with the dwarves! I thought you'd understand, but not. You shouldn't be afraid!"  I screamed.

"You're a stupid elf!"

I was silent.  "You called me Arivae in the letters, you conceited prince!"

He blushed even more.  "Because I didn't know who you were!"

"Okay, that should be enough, kids. Don't argue. You're getting married."  Thranduil.

"I'm not marrying him," I said.

"Me too," Legolas repeated.

Thranduil rolled his eyes.  "Sure. But YOU have to get married. You're engaged since you were a child."

My father's words echoed in my head.  "We need you to go to Mirkwood. It's important for future descendants. For the family line."

When I remembered the mention of the future descendants, I blushed.

"Fine. I'll marry you. Because I have to. My father wants this. "  I said.

Legolas sighed.  "Okay, well then. I have to marry you too."  he turned to his father.

He had fun with us.  "I haven't had fun like this for a long time!"

As Y / N left angrily with Legolas, Thranduil winked at Thorin.  "Something tells me that the two of them will have a tumultuous married life, but that in the end, they will fall in love."

Thorin rolled his eyes.  "And aren't they in love yet?"

[kingofkingdom]

Life Beyond The Line

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI)

Summary: For the first time in over ten years, Ezra does not wish for rescue. 

For the first time, he sends a silent message of thanks to the men who abandoned him here in this rugged green, because it gifted him you.

Warnings/Content: Explicit sexual content (minors DNI !! or else), hurt/comfort, angst, blood and injury, wilderness survival, AU, heavy mention of pregnancy/child loss, strangers to lovers, lactation/lactation kink, breast worship/play, masturbation, oral sex, unprotected sex, open ending (HEA? idk), AFAB reader, female reader

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: This one-shot has been up on my AO3 for a minute and a half, but I’ve just now gotten around to posting it here. Enjoy!

The storm came on suddenly, unexpected and vicious out of the pale blue sky.

Your small, twin engine plane was tossed about on the wind like a toy boat on a tumultuous sea. Rain streaked across your windshield and lightning flashed all around you. Below, you knew there was nothing but uninterrupted miles of wilderness, as unforgiving and uncaring as the raging clouds around you. 

Desperately you held tight to your controls. The dark consumed you in minutes, throwing off your sense of orientation, but your altimeter seemed to read true and steady. Your stomach roiled violently and you feared you might vomit from the turbulence.

All you could do was carry on. You blinked away the tears in your eyes and tried your best to keep a level head. Just as your flight instructor back home had taught you - leave nothing to chance. You couldn't leave your life in the hands of a freak, chance thunderstorm. Your equipment is in check, your skills solid. You fueled up at your last stop. The only way something could go awry is if you let it - you can't let it end like this. Not when so much is riding on this journey.

The last thing you know is a blinding flash of white, a deafening roar that lasts for only a moment and also for a million lifetimes.

-

The first thing you know, in the afterwards, is the sound of something crackling. Fire, you realize, popping and snapping as it consumes what must be a pile of wood.

The smell reaches you next. It conjures up an image in your head of a backyard barbecue, meat on the grill smelling both pungent and aromatic. This is different, though - less fatty, fewer spices. Wilder.

It's then that the pain finds you. Your leg aches and burns with an intensity the likes of which you've never experienced. In your stomach, too, there's a throbbing sensation, your pulse beating along in an overwhelming, percussive march.

A groan bubbles up from your throat at this immense discomfort, uninhibited by propriety. 

Your brain is foggy, thoughts swirling around in your head, fleeting. Absently, as though observing the state of yourself from the outside, you think it must be due to the pain that you're so disoriented. Why is there so much of it? So much pain? What's going on? These are the questions that slip through your mind like sand through your fingertips, lost at your feet as soon as they appear. All you can focus on is how uncomfortable you are, how much your body hurts.

Then there's a man's voice above you, dulcet and sweet, a pleasant contrast to the pain radiating through your muscles. It has the melodic lilt of someone from the south. Texas, maybe, or Oklahoma.

"Quiet now, little bird," he murmurs, and you can tell he's speaking more to himself than to you. "What a nasty fall you took, right out of the sky like that. A miracle you're alive, really. Icarus himself would be envious of your good fortune."

In such a state that you can focus on very little, your attention lands on this stranger above you. Something within you outweighs the fear you might have once felt at being in the presence of a strange man.

Your eyelids flutter open.

The man, rugged and handsome and a bit wild-looking, smiles down at you. "There you are. Can you hear me, birdie?"

A pressure on your thigh takes your focus for a moment. It's his hand, firm and warm, resting on your leg. You're still wearing your Levis, you realize, but you've lost your crewneck. Your torso is covered by little more than your sports bra and a tank top that doesn't belong to you.

You're laying on a blanket, beneath which is either packed dirt or stone. It's cold, made warmer by the fire to your right. The flickering glow of it draws your sight, dancing across the ceiling of the room you're in, casting unusual, pretty shapes that last for only a moment.

Looking back to the man, you nod.

"Good. I surmise you've sustained a fairly serious concussion, so it's a wonder you're even awake at all. You also managed to fracture your femur, which is a notable feat for anyone to manage, as well as some trauma to your abdomen. I've done the best I can with your wounds, but…"

Something steals his words away, his dark eyes studying your chest for a moment.

"I fear you have some… circumstances that I am ill-equipped to aid you in rectifying."

You follow his line of sight, looking down at your own chest. Belatedly you realize that your - his? - shirt has been stained with your milk, which still leaks despite all that you've been through.

"Shit," you mutter, trying to sit up. Your arms draw in to cover your breasts, to cover your shame, even though reason would tell you he probably doesn't care.

The reminder drags your mind, kicking and hollering, out of the fog. All at once it smarts like a wound again, an ache that throbs in your breasts and in your heart. It's an ache that women have known since the dawn of time, but that doesn't make it any less intimate. Doesn't make it burn any less.

"I'm so- I'm sorry -" you begin, but the man shushes you, dismissing your apology with a wave of his hand. He almost looks concerned, brow furrowed and lips working beneath his dark mustache.

"No," he cuts you off, voice firm, leaving no room for discussion. "Don't apologize for that. You weren't - is your… have you given --"

You can catch onto his meaning well enough. Shaking your head, you sit back, relieving the stress on whatever dressing he's put on the wound on your stomach. No, that loss - while still fresh - is not of immediate concern for your health. Aside, of course, from the situation beneath your folded arms.

Now more aware of your surroundings than you were when you woke up, you realize that you're in some sort of shelter - half a small cave, half a man-made construction. To your right, the fire blazes, cooking meat on a spit, and through the window you can see an animal's hide tanning in the morning sun.

Morning. You should have been in Ketchikan by now, eating breakfast in the lodge. God, what you wouldn't give for some scrambled eggs and coffee.

"What happened?" you ask, trying to distract yourself from thoughts like that. There's nothing you can do immediately to get yourself to Alaska, so you may as well take stock of your situation.

"Well," the man begins, taking his hand from where it was resting on your thigh and running it through his hair, "there was quite the storm last night, as you may remember. It nearly tore the roof off my home, here - though I pride myself on the fact that that didn't happen - and it wasn't a moment after I finally decided to retire to my bed when I saw your craft falling out of the sky. You crashed in the trees not five miles from here, eventually ending up in a wide meadow. Your plane, I'm afraid to admit, is not salvageable. The cockpit saved you from most of the fire, but I cannot say the same for your engines, or your radio equipment."

You try to blink away the tears that well in your eyes, but it's to no avail. An ugly sob forces its way out of your mouth and you slap a hand over your lips before any more can escape. The man, already having shown you so much kindness, scoots closer to you and places a hand on the crown of your head, brushing your hair away from your face. 

"I know, little bird," he coos, soothing voice flowing over you like a balm. "Let your tears flow freely; you'll find no judgement from me."

So you do. You weep, turning your head and finding softness in his thigh. As best you can without pulling at your injury, you turn into him and forget yourself, wallowing for a few precious minutes in your grief. Your breaths heave and your chest aches to think of what may become of you. A strong, calloused hand rubs at your shoulder, soothing your pain.

Eventually your tears dry. It may have been three minutes: it may have been three hours. No matter how long it took, the man sat there, holding you. Cradling you.

You sniffle and wipe your hand over your cheek, trying to save face as much as you can. You see that your watch is still on your wrist, and that it still works - the damn thing was fifteen bucks from Wal-Mart, but here it is, ticking away.

It makes you laugh, that this silly timepiece survived alongside you. At least you can count the minutes and hours as they pass by before you.

The man hums, a small smile on his face as he sits back against the stone wall of his home, arms crossed over his chest.

The movement draws your attention. His biceps are distinct, the tendons in his forearms well-defined under suntanned skin. In the world outside - in your life before this - he would have caught your eye.

Hell, he's catching your eye right now.

You wonder why he's found himself out here, in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. How long has he been here? Was he a survivor, like you, or is he here for another reason? Based on the dwelling around you, lived-in and well-used, this has been his life for a long time.

"I'm sorry, for all of that," you apologize again, because this man never asked to be your comfort, never asked to find you half-dead in the wreckage of your plane. There's little more you can do than say I'm sorry , especially in the state that you're in.

He gives you a look, brow raised. "Did I not just tell you to quit apologizing? I couldn't very well leave you to die, not with half a conscience anyway."

Still, you sigh, unsatisfied with his humility. Sweat beads on your temple with how much you've been moving about, so you lay back and try to ignore the constant ache. Your vision swims, and you know you're likely to pass out again. Before that happens, though, there's an issue that's been nagging at the back of your mind.

"You said my plane is five miles from here. That can't - Did you… did you carry me all that way?"

He shrugs, as though the suggestion isn't something to spend too much time thinking on. "Logging makes a man used to bearing weight that far exceeds your own, little bird. Add that to my many years out here alone, well, it wasn't as much of a feat as you might think."

"Regardless," you reply, "that's five miles in a thunderstorm with an unconscious person on your back. Thank you…"

You realize you don't even know his name.

His gaze finds you, and his eyes are a sudden sort of intense that it takes your breath away for just a moment. Dark and shifting in the firelight, he'd almost look menacing if he hadn't just nursed you back from the brink of death. You think back to the way he rested his hand on your uninjured thigh, touching you in an area normally reserved for intimacy. You rationalize it by assuming he's just been away from others for long enough that social norms have escaped him.

Something in that look tells you otherwise, though you're reluctant to heed its warning.

"Ezra," he drawls, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

No last name. Perhaps those sorts of things don't matter in the wilderness.

"Just Ezra?"

A nod. "Just Ezra."

"Well," you breathe out, the pain flaring up again, "thank you, Ezra. For saving my life."

He grunts his acceptance, noticing your waning awareness. "Here," he says, getting up and walking over toward the fire. You watch him move, seeing the way his legs are sure and solid in his stained work pants and how his broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his flannel shirt. There's something strapped to his belt at his hip, something leather and long. It must be a knife.

Ezra bends down at the fire to gather something. You watch, eyes following the movement of his legs, taking particular note of the way his pants strain against his rear.

It's a nice ass, your foggy brain concludes. 

He straightens up and turns back around. In his hands is a small object, steam coming out of the top of it.

"Bone broth," he supplies, making his way over to where you lie. "It should help you regain strength and heal. My mother taught me to make it, so if you have any qualms with the taste, I'd advise you take it up with her."

You chuckle as Ezra crouches down in front of you. He holds the cup in one hand and puts the other on the back of your neck, supporting your head, to steady your sips and avoid spilling any. You curl your lips around the rim and drink. The broth is savory, tasting like the dregs of a meat stew, and it warms your whole body from scalp to toes.

The cup is empty when Ezra pulls away, and you're asleep again before he can stand back up.

-

You wake up and the ache in your chest has become more than discomfort - it's verging on pain by now. Your leg, however, feels marginally better, and your head no longer throbs.

Upon opening your eyes, you see that the sky is in that stage of sunset when the whole of the earth turns golden. Beside you, Ezra reclines, whittling away on something wooden with his hunting knife. He's backlit by the golden hour, which illuminates his profile and makes him look exceptionally handsome. He's humming something, an old tune you recognize in the recesses of your memory.

You're not able to fully appreciate the scene before you, as your breasts call out a protest against your body. 

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, eyes prickling with tears at the sensation. It's a cruel reminder of all that you've lost - your little one, supposed to be only a few weeks old, is a cold and empty space in your arms and in your bones. Your body still calls for her, confused as to why she doesn't answer in kind.

The heartbreak is still fresh, smarting and constant like the wound in your abdomen. There was nothing the doctors could do. Something inside you still rages at them and at God and at yourself for failing her.

Ezra immediately picks up on your distress. He sets his knife and wood aside and turns to you, a tentative hand on your shoulder. He's unsure - clearly he's never dealt with such a scenario, though you can hardly blame him for his ignorance.

"What do you need, birdie?" he asks in that melodic tenor of his. You look up through your watery eyes to see his own looking down at you with care and concern. 

You let out a weak laugh, but then the pain shoots through your chest again. "I don't - nothing. I just��� I need a - some way - they're full."

His throat bobs, jaw clenching. There's next to nothing you can do to express the milk in the state you're in, half delirious and injured. In a normal world, you'd use a pump or your hands to massage the milk out, but not when you can barely stay awake. Not with your handsome, roguish roommate only a breath away.

"There must be something I can do to help you, sweetheart."

Letting out shortened huffs of breath, you suppose this man can handle the reality of what's happening. If he's so insistent, you'll tell him.

Maybe it's your pain-addled brain that comes to this conclusion, but you almost want him to help you through this. As heavy as the shame of it all sits in your stomach, you can't help but imagine his large hands on your body.

"I - I need to pump them. Get the milk out before it… before it becomes more of a problem, I guess."

He nods, gaze slipping down to land on the curve of your breasts under his shirt. The look in his eyes is unmistakable - he's hungry - to see, to feel, to taste. His hand moves from your shoulder to ghost over your torso. You can almost hear his thoughts, the way he wants you, the restraint he's exhibiting. 

"Ezra," you breathe, catching his attention, "I can't do this on my own. Not like this."

When he speaks, his voice is rough. The tenor of it has fallen an octave, coming from his throat rather than his tongue. You watch as his plush, pink lips form the words.

"What a gift," he mutters, shrugging off his flannel and balling it up in his hands. He reaches out and places it under your head, cushioning you. It smells like him.

Your fingers find the hem of the tank top you wear. Ezra helps you pull it up and over your head.

"You're a vision, little bird. Can't believe you'd let - I simply must have died and gone to heaven."

Inside your chest, your heart is racing. If your body wasn't broken and beaten from the crash, you would pull yourself up and let yourself fall headfirst into the touch of this man. What must years alone in the wilderness have done to him? He's surely not seen a woman for ages, much less been with one intimately.

The thought makes a shiver run down your spine.

You take his hand in your own, guiding it up towards your bra. He tucks his fingers underneath as you raise your arms up.

"Help me, Ezra. Please."

That seems to embolden him - whether it's to help you or to have you, you're not sure. The next thing you know, both of his hands are on you and your bra is discarded on the floor, forgotten. A cool breeze rushes through the shelter and your swollen, tender breasts pebble at the cool air. The feeling of it makes you gasp and you arch your back ever so slightly, towards him.

His eyes are as dark as the night that will soon fall. Something like fear surges through your heart - you don't know this man, not really, and he's looking at you like he wants to devour you.

But then you remember where you are. There is no witness to your sin - or his - but the tall, silent pines. Even the owls have fallen silent, keeping your secret safe and hidden away. It's as though the world outside doesn't exist, like the only thing that matters is the promise of his hands on your skin.

You reach up and grasp his wrist again. He looks you in the eye, studying you as you take his hand in your own. You bring it to your lips and press a kiss to his palm, as though giving him your blessing.

Then, you guide him down to touch your breast. His large, rough hand cups your tender flesh reverently, thumb swiping across your wet nipple. The sensation, heightened by your increased sensitivity, makes you keen, high-pitched and desperate.

Ezra gives a gentle squeeze and you both watch as a thin stream of milk shoots up, droplets landing on his lap.

"I'd hate," Ezra begins, voice hardly more than a whisper, "to let any of your ambrosia go to waste, sweetheart. What I wouldn't give to know the taste of it - to suckle from your teat like a babe."

Your reply is instantaneous. "Do it. Take it, Ezra."

The groan that escapes his mouth at your words is filthy - nearly animalistic - and he wastes no time arranging himself so that he can lean down and seal his lips around your areola, opening his mouth so the entirety of your nipple finds the wet heat of it. His hand comes up to caress the underside of your breast while your own fingers find a natural hold in his curled, dark locks. You notice offhandedly the shock of blond above his forehead - it's unique and charming and you run your fingers through it before curling into his hair and urging him on.

"Go ahead, baby," you mutter, arousal swirling hot and steady through your body. "It's all for you."

His lips curl against your skin as he sucks, taking a moment to get the hang of it, but within a second you feel the telltale sensation of pulling from within your breast. Ezra hums, low in his throat, and you watch as he drinks from you like a man starved. His eyes flutter closed and his mouth works in rhythmic motions against you. His nose nudges the top of your breast, the curved arch of it pressing insistently and wantonly.

You keep one hand firm in his hair, holding him steady, while the other traces down his face, cupping his cheek. You're struck by the image you two make - a rugged mountain man clinging to a woman as she feeds him from her breast. Something about the sight of such a man reduced to such a primal state makes you dizzy.

He drinks as though it's the first time he's eaten in ages. Perhaps it's the first form of milk he's had on his tongue in years - you know your milk is full of vitamins, fats, and proteins that could supplement a man's diet in a place like this.

You watch as a droplet of white collects at the corner of his mouth. Carefully, so as to not disturb him, you use your thumb to wipe it away.

Ezra drinks from you for several long minutes, and that's before he's switched over to your other breast. When the flow slows and then ends from the first, he takes his mouth off of your nipple and looks up at you, a half-drunk expression on his face. You scratch your nails lightly against his scalp and a place in your heart opens for this lonesome, beautiful man.

"So easily man forgets the ecstasy of his mother's milk," Ezra says, in that poetic way of his, in that way that makes you want to just sit and listen for hours. "Sweeter than syrup, fresher than cream. I could subsist on you, sweet thing, if only you'd allow it."

Your lover pushes forward so that his nose brushes your own, breath intermingling. "I don't pretend to know what you went through to lead you here, but I intend to make the very best of it for both of us."

Before you can think better of it, you reach up and grasp his face, pulling him down to press your lips against his in a heated kiss. It's heady - a nutty flavor you can easily identify combined with something you can only call him. Ezra licks into your mouth and you let him, grasping at the ends of his hair like a lifeline. The scruff on his lip and jaw scratches your skin pleasantly, and you can't help but imagine it if he kissed you somewhere else, somewhere lower…

He pulls back, shushing your protests and insisting that he tend to your other breast. 

"Let me make you feel better,” he mutters against your skin, pressing his nose and mouth against the swollen, sensitive flesh in front of him. 

So you do. Your hand finds the back of his head again as he places his lips on you, his body weight supported by his careful placement of an arm next to your midsection. 

He drinks, savoring the taste of your nectar. It's so soothing to feel the release of tension in your bosom that your eyes flutter closed. You could fall asleep like this, cradling Ezra to your chest, unashamed for the first time of your changed body. Even though you've lost so much, at least you can do this. 

Movement stirs you from your rest. Above you, though he still sucks at your nipple, Ezra has slipped his free hand down to undo the fly of his pants. You watch and feel as he reaches lower, taking hold of himself and beginning to jerk off.

The sight pulls a moan from the back of your throat.

Ezra looks up, the darkness in his eyes dragging you in and under. He continues pleasuring himself, simultaneously pulling the very last of your milk from your body. Once he's satisfied, he releases you, lips as slick and red as your nipples are. 

There isn't a moment's hesitation when you pull him in for another kiss. This one is heated but short-lived, as you find yourself looking down to catch a glimpse of his hand working his member to completion.

You get more than a glimpse - you get a view. It's engorged and thick, clearly rock-hard. His hand moves in a rhythmic motion over the soft skin of it, pre-come leaking out of the tip, which he catches with his thumb to make the slide of his hand easier. He's cut, and the length of his cock makes your mouth water. Beneath his hand, visible through his open pants, his balls hang heavy and full.

His breathing is increasingly labored. "Prettiest fuckin' tits I've ever seen, birdie. Can't believe - you're so good to me, lettin' me have my fill, lettin' me do this to you - 'n you like it, don't you…"

"Yes," you whimper, drawn in towards his cock like a moth to a flame. Your lips part and, leaning over as best you can with your injuries, meet his head with your mouth. 

"Fuck," Ezra swears. His hands fly up to steady you as you suckle, just as you had done with him. "That's right, huh? Gonna come, lemme put it in your mouth, down your throat. Put my seed in your belly, sweet thing, right where it belongs."

His words make you moan around him, tongue darting out to tease at his slit. He still jerks himself beneath you, and you can feel a twitch between your lips that can only mean one thing.

Ezra does just as he promised - his orgasm fills your mouth and you swallow it down without a second thought. You should, of course, be concerned about unprotected sex, especially in a place like this, but the result feels so natural that it doesn't cross your mind. You reach up and cup his ballsack in your hand - a perfect fit, warm and smooth under your fingertips as you fondle him.

Above you, he groans. You can't see it, but his head is thrown back in ecstasy. The taste of your milk still lives on his tongue and he savors it, thinking he could get addicted to this feeling.

When he is empty of come, you pull off of his dick with a wet, obscene noise. You lay back, satisfied, even though you didn't find your own release. Ezra kneels above you, looking down, eyes tracing the shape of your body in the firelight.

"I recall one of Horace's works," he tells you. You give a bit of a smile, one hand resting on your hip, the other above your breast.

"I burn for Glycera's beauty,

who gleams much more brightly than Parian marble:

I burn for her lovely boldness

and her face too dangerous to ever behold."

-

Ezra watches you blossom as you heal.

It takes about a month and a half for you to return to normal, your leg miraculously healed and your stomach doing much better - only a pink scar serves as a reminder of your wound. It was like magic, seeing your energy return and finally being allowed interaction with your full, bright personality. You crack jokes and make little comments that pull him in like a snake to a charmer's flute.

Of course, with the health of your body comes the return, in full force, of your sexual appetite.

You insisted that he keep returning to your breasts, craving the feeling of his lips on your skin, and he was not one to object. It became a nightly ritual, and as a result, your milk still flows as freely as it did that first time. 

Ezra also discovers the tight heat of your cunt, once you allow him to.

He could draft endless sonnets about fucking you. He could write a book of poems on the face you make when you come and another on the noises you make when he splits you open on his cock. When the two of you aren't working to survive - hunting, making and repairing clothes or the shelter, and preparing food - you're surely wrapped up in each other.

You've even taken to spending your time at the shelter topless - foregoing a shirt in favor of providing Ezra easy access to your tits, whenever his whims call for you. He also prefers to remove his shirt when the two of you are safe in your shared home. Something about it - your nudity in the middle of the wilderness, bare for the world and for no one but him - makes his brain go a little haywire.

For the first time in over ten years, he does not wish for rescue. 

For the first time, he sends a silent message of thanks to the men who abandoned him here in this rugged green, because it gifted him you.