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angel-of-the-moons · 3 months

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Running With The Wolves

Wolfwalker!Moon Knight (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You're on the verge of being labeled a witch, but can one handsome stranger (and his two "brothers") save you from the same cruel fate as your mother, who was labeled as one and burned at the stake?

Can you handle the truth about your heroes identities, despite it all? Would you find out who your masked savior truly was beneath his cloak?

Only you could answer that.

TW/CW: Witch hunts, violence, graphic violence, graphic death, blood, public execution, parental death, persecution, grief, depression, Wolfwalkers AU, Moon Knight AU, incorrect lore

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I was watching Wolfwalkers and it gave me the idea for the boys. I did a little research into the lore, so some will be inaccurate (my pagan ancestors would frown upon me lmao) as well as historically inaccurate; so what is in this fic is largely based on the film. It will be especially inaccurate because y'know, Marc is American and Jake is Spanish and Steven is English etc, as well as Khonshu being around (but in the comics he's had a Viking Moon Knight so this isn't too far fetched he'd be in a place like Ireland) so please bear with me, my poor mind has been going through it lately and I wanted to write somethin' pointless, so enjoy this weird ass AU I came up with! (Header does not indicate the reader's race!)

Taglist: @enheduannasposts

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PT. 1

"I heard tha's the girl who lives on the outskirts." You heard a young woman whisper to her friend. Her accent was clearly not from Ireland. She sounded like one of the people from England. They'd been arriving slowly but surely, like a trickle from a leaky bucket, since you were a child.

Your skin prickled as you looked over the vegetables in the market stall, tended to by an old woman who was blind in one eye. Mary, her name was. Mary was probably one of the only around here who was kind to everyone, unless they gave her a reason not to. And those two English girls certainly gave her a reason...

"Aye, ye two hussies best be leav'n this girl be!" She spat, waving her old wooden stick around. "She 'ent done nothin' to ye!"

The two women jumped back with a yelp and scurried off, an armored guard eyeing you and Mary warily.

Your nose crinkled at him and you turned your nose up as you looked back at the crop Mary was selling.

"I'm sorry, lass. I don't like 'em either." Mary said, winking her blind eye at you.

You can't help but smile as you trade some herbs for the vegetables, placing the juicy morsels into your basket. "I just would like for things to go back to the way they were." You sighed.

"Like when I was a girl, before they came to our town. Things were fine, everything was in balance."

Mary leaned in, holding a finger to the sky as she spoke quietly to you.

"Aye, lass. But don't worry. The crimes these English folk are doin' to us? They'll be payin', mark my words! The land, the very sky itself is angry because we can't honor the promises we made so long ago." She grinned, half her teeth missing from old age. "Then, maybe we'll be forgiven."

"Aye, or maybe be consumed by the wolves and the forest while we're at it." You smile sadly. You remembered being safe in those woods as a girl, playing in the creeks, chasing birds and hares, the wolves singing on the breeze...

But the wolf attacks have become ever so common, now. None had been bitten, but their homes had been trashed, their livestock spirited away into the cover of night, wolf tracks everywhere. You were the only one whose homestead was spared. You often wondered why. The only thing different between your little plot and the rest of the homes that were driven empty was... wait.

They were all English.

You weren't. That house you lived in had belonged to your family for nearly half a century. The English farmsteads were placed on the grounds that were cleared by the King's woodcutters and soldiers, they were the ones being attacked. Not you.

But lately, you've heard other tales as well. A "devil in white" the King's men would ramble, their voices shrill with fear. A man in white armor who moved like a ghost, and fought like hell itself. You paid no mind, figuring it may be some hermetic hunter who called the forest home, who simply didn't want to have them invade his solitude.

Maybe--

"Lass, you should get home." Mary said, looking at you with worry as a small gaggle of women whispered and pointed at you. You were used to the stares, you'd been getting them as a child. But since the English arrived, those whispers became accusations.

"Witch."

Your mother had faced a similar accusation, given her odd habits and ways of whispering to the wind.

Some considered her addled, even moreso when she began raving of spirits and the voices she said came from the ground.

You remembered the night that she died, the horrible, evil way that she left this world.

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You were only twelve years old, gripped hard by the local men as the bishop to your village spoke from the Bible, quoting things about the crimes of witchcraft and how your mother could only be cleansed by fire.

You screamed, and kicked, and cried and cursed, but all that earned you was a punch to the gut as they lit the kindling beneath your mother's feet.

You'd heard tales of witch burnings, but you'd never ever thought such horrible deeds would come to your town; your safe, warm little home.

Your mother was strange, yes, but she taught you many things that had proven useful. The best herbs to cure the worst fever, the best tonics to drink to cure an ailing cough, how to track in the woods, how to trust the forest to show you the way home; but only if you respected it as a living being, and respected the souls who lived within.

She wasn't a "witch" to you.

She was your mother.

And she was right in front of you, burning.

"Mummy!" You screamed, your voice sounding as though you swallowed shards of pottery.

She looked at you, and smiled, crying and struggling against the ropes that bound her to the stake.

The fire crept up, up, until it reached her feet.

You could smell it--the acrid, disgusting stench of oil and burning flesh. You could see her skin blister, peel, and burn away as she screamed, begged for mercy. Mercy that the church was not willing to grant her.

You screamed and cried until your throat was raw and bloody, struggling until you broke free of the men's arms.

You didn't think twice on it--you leapt towards the pyre.

Your mother was dead. You knew this. But all you wanted was to hold her one last time, even if all that was left now was blackened, charred flesh.

Your soft, delicate hands burned, your dress beginning to catch aflame as you desperately tried to reach for what little remained of the woman you loved most in the world.

The pain was so blinding, so debilitating that your vision went white around the edges, and you saw the world begin to go dark.

"Damn it--put the girl out!" Was the last thing that you heard before you lost consciousness.

When you'd awoke, it had been two whole days since your mother's trial and burning. Two days since she plead to the "court" about how they were treating the land; that if they didn't change their ways they would all suffer for it.

The first face you saw was the bishop looking down at you with a solemn and sad expression, completely different from the way his eyes had gleamed maniacally as he cheered the death of your mother.

"I'm sorry, dear girl." He said kindly, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Your arms and hands were wrapped in clean linen--or, well, as clean as they could get it, anyway--your burns itching and painful.

You gritted your teeth, feeling hot tears burn as you glared at him, your throat still raw and aching.

"You killed her!" You meant to yell, but it only came out a hoarse croak.

"Aye, girl, I did. But I took no pleasure in it."

Liar. Filthy, disgusting liar! You wanted to shout, You smiled when she screamed!

"Your mother was bewitched by the devil, don't you see? The only way to ensure she could make it to heaven was if she was cleansed by fire." He told you, his wrinkled eyes looking at you with such gentleness you could almost scarcely believe this was your beloved mother's executioner.

"At least now, you know your mother made it to the gates of heaven. And hopefully God finds it in Him to grant your mother eternal peace." He continued, "After all, she loved you greatly, and there is nothing more pure than a mother's love. Even if it was the love of a witch."

You bite back bile that wanted to rise--partly from the pain, partly from disgust--and turned your head away, your tears heavy like chains that hung from your lashes and held your eyes closed.

"So hopefully, we can pray she found salvation and forgiveness in the fact she loved you so."

His hand brushed a lock of burnt hair from your face.

"Don't worry, girl... You can go home. But I must implore you not to give in to the teachings your mother no doubt gave you. None of that talking trees or animals nonsense, you hear?"

You wanted to kick him, to bite his disgusting fingers off and pluck out his eyes. But... all you did was nod, and say:

"I understand."

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Later that night, barring the English women's gossip, you'd had a fairly decent day. Your snare on the edge of the forest had gotten a nice hare; providing you with some nice soft fur and meat and bone.

You'd spent your days thereafter doing much of the same work you'd done since you returned to your empty home the week your mother died. You gardened, placed more snares, cleaned the house, worked the loom, began weaving a small tapestry.

One night, you were broken from your tedium by heavy hands on your door, making you yelp and prick yourself with a needle.

You stuck your bloody fingertip in your mouth and stuffed the tapestry into your heavy wooden chest, rushing to your front door to see what was the trouble.

When you opened it, there was the bishop, flanked by two men in heavy plate armor. You felt a shiver creep up your spine; the sight was eerily similar to the night your mother was taken away, only this time the bishop looked so ancient he looked like a piece of dried, brittle leather.

"Dear girl, thank God you're alright." The bishop breathed, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder.

Your brow creased, and you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to cut you off.

"That... That man, that devil whom the townsfolk here and elsewhere have been seeing--he was here. Tonight! He killed four of the King's finest men!" He said, panicked, his touch cold and clammy.

"And earlier in the day... wolves. A pack of white wolves! I feared for you, girl. I know that you're alone and so far from town." He shuddered a breath. His lungs sounded awful, even to your ears. Honestly... If the man had allowed it, you could have fixed his long coughing illness. He's been suffering for years with it, sometimes to the point where his surmons had to be delivered by proxy.

He was suffering... but so had your mother, whom he murdered in the name of his god.

Your jaw was tight, and you nodded. "I... I see. I haven't been attacked yet, sir. B-but I will keep an eye out and alert you if I see anything strange."

You wouldn't.

"I don't want that devil to hurt anyone else."

You hoped he chased them all away.

He mistook your shaky voice for one of mutual fear for the man that haunted the nights, like the dreaded vampires back in England and the smaller towns and villages.

"Yes, dear girl." He put his hand to your cheek and smiled, his aged features twisting in agony. "A good girl. May God protect you."

"And He, you." You replied, the words tasting like rotten meat on your tongue.

"Such a good girl." He turned, coughing into his hand. "May God help civilise this land..."

Thunder boomed in the distance, almost as if the very sky itself was urging the cruel men on their way, to leave you be.

As soon as your door was closed, you grabbed a nearby cauldron and heaved it over to your hearth, hanging it from the iron hook and dumping the pail of water into it to boil.

You hastily stripped your clothes free and dumped them into the cauldron, rushing to find your small bottles of tonics.

When you'd found the ones you needed, you dumped them, alongside fresh herbs, into the pot with your soaking clothes.

You knew, based on your own observations, that those who coughed often spread it through touch or spit. And he had coughed into his hands and touched you; you simply don't want to take the risk.

You had to start selling your healing tonics "under the table" as Mary said, as cleaning agents for clothes and blankets just so you could pass it to the townsfolk with sick family. You hated doing that, but seeing a sickly child able to run around with her siblings again without fear of that wretched cough was worth the pain of lying.

You watched as the water bubbled, standing naked as you poked at the fabric with your long wooden spoon, swirling it around and around.

Once you deemed it hot enough, you carefully picked up the cauldron and set it on your stone slab at the mouth of your hearth, you scooped some of the herbal water into your wash bucket and began scrubbing at your clothes mercilessly to rid it of any possible sickness.

Once they were clean enough, you hung them near the fire to dry (but not close enough to catch fire while you were asleep).

You felt goosebumps chill your skin as the wind rattled your shutters, so you grabbed a heavy woolen blanket to wrap yourself up in while you dug around for a new linen dress to put on.

It was a small comfort, given how early in the year it was, and these certain storms always brought unseasonably cold weather in their shadow, but you accepted it nonetheless.

You walked over to your wooden chest and pulled out your half-finished tapestry. It was one your mother started when you were barely hip-height; your father, strong and large, next to your mother, petite and soft. Interconnecting between them was you, holding their larger hands in your tiny ones.

Much of it was unfinished, and only within the last year did your grief finally allow you to finish what she started, as this was the only thing left that you had of her. When the church took her away, your mother knew they were coming, so she hid certain things out in the woods for safekeeping, only telling you their whereabouts. Once the church lifted it's eye from you one autumn day, you finally ran out into the clearing your mother hid her things in.

Being able to have something to visually remember your parents by wrenched your heart in a bittersweet way, but it was all you had of them, other than their rings you wore, hidden and slung low beneath your bodice so nobody would see.

You knew if the bishop found out... He would have them all destroyed, burned like your mother; and he would likely have you thrown into the stocks and publicly lashed as punishment.

In a twisted way, the bishop cared for you. He saw you as an innocent, God-fearing girl who had been brainwashed by your witch mother, whom only acknowledged the paganistic "Old Ways".

You hated having to keep up the act, but you didn't want to die. You owed it to your mother and father, wherever their souls were together, to live on.

You blinked, and a heavy teardrop splashed down onto the tapestry.

Your body jolted with the clap of thunder. How long had you been crying? Had you been crying this whole time, but didn't realize it? Oh, you hated how often these crying fits would strike you.

All you wanted to do was think of the happy times with your family, but it always came back to the fact that they were dead and you were alone.

You dropped back onto your bed, the old, dried wood creaking beneath your weight, the smell of the straw mattress stuffed with dried flowers and clovers soothing to your senses.

Your eyes felt heavy, weighted down from your painful thoughts, and you turned your head to look at the wreath above your bed, shamrocks with dried berries carefully strung together; it was something your mother taught you. You couldn't remember the significance of the thing, but making them when you were bored became a mundane comfort.

You closed your eyes and sighed heavily.

You would need to check your snares in the morning.

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Your leather shoes squelched in the mud as you carefully made your way to the treeline early that next morning. You nervously chewed the inside of your cheek to check if the coast was clear before venturing into the bushes.

It was early enough none had arisen yet to start the day, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon as you set off into the forest.

Yes, setting your traps beyond the treeline was dangerous, as they would tell you, but you knew the game in the woods was fat and ripe, perfectly full of meat. If you could hunt at all, you would try your aim at shooting one of those slovenly bucks with a bow and arrow.

But a hunter you were not. Trap-maker, yes. But no hunter.

Your tiny iron dagger was slung low on your hip, your mostly-empty wooden sack carrying fresh bait for any snares that were sprung, or if the bait had been snatched.

The first two traps hadn't been sprung, but picked clean, most likely by birds and quick-witted squirrels. No luck in catching anything.

But as you neared your final trap, you heard an odd noise. A wheezing sound, almost, followed by heavy pants and a whimper.

Your footsteps stopped as you peered around the thick trunk of an ancient tree, your breath catching in your throat as you looked at the sight in front of you.

It was your last snare, set up with some bread and berries to lure in a rabbit or squirrel (as was your typical game) but it seems that this time, somehow... you snagged a wolf.

And this was not a normal wolf; it was one with fur as white as the coldest snow, now muddied and stained from the soggy ground it flailed around in; your snare secured firmly around its neck and front paw, cinching the two together in a painful manner.

Your heart broke as you saw the creature struggle and wheeze, choking out quiet howls that couldn't be heard through the underbrush.

With your jaw set tight, you stepped out of the clearing, and the wolf turned to you, trying to limp away.

"Shhh, hush, now." You soothe the animal, your hands out in front of you as you got lower, trying to seem less threatening.

Yes, the townsfolk feared wolves, but you wouldn't just leave this beautiful creature to slowly strangle to death on one of your own traps; your soul wouldn't be able to handle the weight of guilt.

"I won't hurt you, sweetie." You say, your voice calm and soft as you reached out.

The wolf snapped tentatively at you, whimpering as the pain of the cord dug further into its throat and paw, red stains now blotching the white fur.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you..." You urge the panicked animal. Your own eyes locked with its dark brown ones, and you could almost hear its thoughts plead:

Help me. Please. It hurts. Please!

You wait for the wolf to still, and sit its haunches on the ground, those big, pained eyes staring right through to your very soul.

Once the wolf is calm, you hook your fingers through the snare, reaching for the part of it that looped around, and try to loosen it enough for it to slip free.

But to no avail, the amount of flailing the wolf had done had twisted and cinched it to the point you couldn't. Your brow pinched and you nervously chewed the inside of your cheek before unsheathing your dagger.

Upon seeing the glint of the blade, the wolf whimpered and panicked again, beginning to flail once more as you reached for it.

"No!" You say, frantically trying to calm the beast. "Stop! You're making it worse! Please--I'm not going to hurt you."

You grunt as you leap forward, crushing the wolf against you in a bear hug, trying to calm its thrashing body as you swing your sharpened blade through the cord, severing it from the branch it was tethered to.

You sliced your thumb in an attempt to cut the cord around its throat, but you somehow managed it, your blood leaving fresh streaks of red and pink through the wolf's surprisingly soft fur.

You drop your dagger and release the animal, falling back on your bum as you carefully crawl away as the canine heaved for uninhibited air, its barreled chest shaking with effort.

Once it had collected itself, it limped up to you, it cut paw hanging an inch or two above the ground as its wet, charcoal black nose sniffed at your wounded thumb.

Its pink tongue laved out and lapped up your blood, as if to say "sorry" for causing you to injure yourself for trying to aid it.

Your eyes however, were drawn to the cuts into the wolf's throat and paw, oozing small rivulets of blood as it stared at you.

"Oh... You poor..." You breathed, rising to kneel on your knees, dirtying your skirt even more.

"I... Those can get infected. Please. I... I can help you..."

You don't know why you were trying to bargain with an animal, but somehow it paid off. The wolf nosed its way into your lap, ears flattened up and eyes pleading up at you.

"Okay..." You murmur, scratching behind one of its ears. "Let's get you home, boy. I have stuff there that can help ya."

The wolf whimpered.

"Er... Well, I assume you're male?" You chuckle awkwardly, trying to think of how to carry this large and hefty animal back home without being seen.

"I'm not gonna violate you by takin' a peek or anything." You clear your throat when one of the wolf's ears flop as "he" tilts his head at you.

"Er. Okay. Let's go..."

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It was easier than you thought, getting him back home. As the sun crept higher, the fog and mist were your ally as you smuggled the "dangerous" animal back to the safety of your home.

You had to haul him over your shoulders and beat feet through the underbrush. Once you were safely inside, you had to (with great difficulty) maneuver the wolf down onto your bed.

You chuckled when he rolled over--and he was most definitely a "he"--and began rolling this way and that into your blankets, making small huffs and growls.

"Ah-ah..." You murmur, reaching out to brush your hand through his muddy fur. "You might make your injuries worse, 'kay, m'love?"

That seems to get the wolf's attention. You weren't sure if he could understand you, which honestly had you thinking you were crazy, but the way he sat up and stared at you, one ear flopping down as he looked up into your eyes sent a strange feeling through your body.

"Hmm..." You murmur, brushing your fingers tentatively around his wounded throat. From his muddy thrashing he'd accumulated a fair amount of dirt, and that would lead to infection.

You hike your skirts up and tie them around your waist, and you could almost swear you saw a look of modesty cross the wolf's eyes as his ears slicked back against his head and he buried his muzzle into your warm blankets.

You scratch the back of your head, a little confused at his reaction as you adjust your knickers and rush to gather your herbs you'd need, plucking dried leaves and roots that hung above your hearth.

You set the herbs down into your mortar and pestle and begin to grind them down, mixing them evenly into a dissolvable mass that would melt in the water once you'd boiled it.

You crack your knuckles and grab a pail, untying your skirts and smoothing them out, frowning at the mud stains as you reach for your door, making a "shush" gesture to the wolf.

"Stay quiet and don't go near the windows! It's dangerous if you're seen." You gently urge him before slipping outside into the morning light once again.

The trek to the well was always annoying, but your neighbors never minded you coming to fetch water, knowing how dangerous it could possibly be for you to hike to the creek at the edge of the forest just to get yourself some of the life-giving liquid.

You inwardly cringed when the Kenny's daughter, Aisling, was already at the well; her belly already round with her unborn child. Barely 19 years of age and she was already with a babe; she was often sickly as a child, this you remembered, so her family (namely her husband) was very concerned about her well-being and that of her impending birth.

Upon seeing you approach, Aisling smiled widely and waved at you, saying your name chipperly, almost like an excited morning bird.

You were really hoping not to have a conversation so early, afraid someone would know you were harboring a wolf inside your home...

"Hello, Aisling. Feeling well this morning?" You hum innocently at her as you tie your pail up, before cranking the wench and lowering it down to the water below.

"Yes, surprisingly!" She giggled, patting her belly with a soft smile. "M' little one decided it was a good day to let mummy keep food down."

"That's good! I still recommend broths if you feel nauseous, however..."

"I know, I know. My mum is constantly making sure of that." She sighed with a roll of her eyes, hooking her own two pails of water onto her yoke.

Your hairs raised and you reached out, the wench slipping from your hands and your bucket dropping all the way back down into the water below the earth.

"No! You mustn't lift something that heavy." You caution. "It's not good for your baby."

"Ohhh! You sound like my father." She sighs, frowning deeply, her hands on her hips. "I'm not helpless, y'know!"

"Yes, I'm aware, but--"

"Aisling!" Her husband panted, trotting up to the both of you. He was at least a decade or so older than she was, but nonetheless it was a good match; he seemed to love her greatly. He was English, and one of the few kind ones you've known, in fact. A gentle giant.

This fact was emphasized when his large bulky hand reached down to touch her belly, sighing with relief. "No, no, you know that you can't be out here alone! The wolves!"

"I 'ent seen no wolves!" Aisling pouted up at him.

"That doesn't mean no wolves see you, m'love." He sighed dejectedly at her. He gives you a kind smile and a nod, hoisting the yoke over his own shoulders, "Aye, lass. Glad to see someone else talking some sense into my pretty little wife, here..."

"Bah!" Aisling scoffed, throwing her arms in the air as she waddled back down to their house.

He shook his head with a chuckle, "I swear, if we have a girl and she turns out like her..."

"You'll have your hands full, alright." You sigh, cranking the wench again.

"Aye." He says, giving you a cautious look. "But, I must warn you, the same way I did Aisling... with these wolves about, it's dangerous..."

"I know." You smile. "I'll be fine."

"Alright..." He replies, giving you one last look before going back home to his wife and family.

You on the other hand, rushed back home with your water to your waiting furry companion...

You almost dropped the pail of water when you saw what he was doing. Somehow he managed to nose open up the chest containing your mother's things, and was insistently sniffing the tapestry.

"Ah! No, no, no!" You frantically say, setting the water down to rush over, gently shoving his snout to the side to close the chest.

"Gah..." You sigh in relief, and smile softly at the wolf, reaching out to pinch and squish his cheek. And surprisingly, he took it well, making a little "whurf!" as you do.

"Don't go through my stuff, it's not very polite after I risked my arse you take care of you." You chuckle, setting yourself to task of boiling the water with the ground herbs. You kneel next to the remaining bit of water on the floor, dipping a rag into the pail and making a clicking noise with your teeth.

The wolf tipped his head to the side, ears pricking up at the noise as he slowly moseyed over to you shyly.

"Oh relax, I won't poison ya." You chuckle, dabbing the soaked cloth onto his fur, cleaning him of the muck.

He of course, did not like this. He whimpered and tucked his tail between his legs, his gorgeous brown eyes pleading with you.

"Ah! That won't work on me, Mister... You need to be clean before I can clean your wounds!" You cluck at him, not falling for his cute little attempt.

Thankfully, he sits there and lets you gently massage the mud away, carefully cleaning around his wound sites before hastily grabbing the pot of boiling water and pouring some into a wooden bowl.

You scratch behind one of his ears and say softly, "Now... I'm going to take care of you, okay? Now... just let me..."

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"No! Down! Bad wolf!" You groan, watching as his tail wagged happily, one of your kirdles firmly in his jaws, daring you to come get it.

"Ooooh! I should have left you in the woods!"

His ears flatten back and his eyes get big, giving you the sweetest, saddest look you've ever seen...

And it definitely broke you.

"Ah... You little... mouth off my clothes!" You grunt, tugging the garment from between his teeth, groaning at the sight of tears from his fangs.

He dropped down onto his front paws, wagging his tail happily as he makes a playful whine and yip.

"Oi! Ya seem just fine now!" You scold the animal, shaking the torn kirdle in front of him.

It was true. In just one day, your furry companion seemed to have healed miraculously faster than what was natural. It concerned you... but you didn't feel threatened by the creature's playful antics.

If anything, having him around made you feel less... lonely.

Dinner was almost ready, a simple stew with vegetables and salted meats tossed in. You weren't sure if wolves could eat such a meal, but you would feel awful if you were eating and your new friend merely had to sit and watch.

You sigh and toss your clothes aside, watching with a snort as the wolf playfully dove for it, rolling around and kicking it with his feet as you used your ladle to scoop two bowls.

You curled your feet beneath you as you plopped a spoon into your bowl before placing the spare on the floor. Your wolf's ears perked up and he sniffed the air, licking his chops as he abandoned your torn-up kirdle in favor of investigating the food you placed for him.

You smiled around your mouthful as he accidentally dipped his nose too deep into the broth, whipping his head around with a heavy snort.

"Ah, that's not how you eat, by the way..." You hum innocently, and again, your wolf gives you an almost human reaction, flattening his ears back as he seems to glare at you for a moment, before lapping at the food, curling his tongue around to eat the bits of veggies and meat.

"Oh, I'd love to keep you, but you don't belong here, fella." You say, scratching his ear softly in an affectionate way. Your skin crawls when you hear a mournful howl travel from the forest, across the fields, and into your house.

Your wolf whimpers and looks at you.

"As soon as you're ready, I'll sneak you back out to the woods." You promise him.

"I won't let anyone hurt you."

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He looked out from the treeline, his glowing white eyes staring out from the darkness.

A large, fluffy animal--a gorgeous white wolf, fur stained with mud--sidled up next to him, ears flattened back.

"Still no sign of him?" He sighed, frustrated.

The wolf whimpered, his tail tucking and nose dipping towards the ground in a response that seemed to say "no".

"Damn it!" The man roared, his fists balling tight as he began to pace angrily.

"Still no sign of your third?" A deep voice rumbled from the trees.

He lifted his gaze to spot him in all his imposing glory--Khonshu; god of the night sky, the moon, justice and many things in-between. His lithe frame ominously perched on the limb of an ancient, thick tree. One of his legs dangled down while the other supported his arm, his dominant hand clutching his staff in a tight-fisted grip as he stared down at him.

But mostly, he was his fist of vengeance. He was dispensing justice against those who imposed their will on the weak; like the other Englishmen who oppressed the local populace with their threats of jail, execution...

He also had to deal with bandits. Bandits, constantly seemed to prey upon travelers trying to find better places to live, to eke out a livelihood to support their families.

But right now, he was on edge.

He was incomplete. He was missing a vital part of himself. Someone he would not be able to fully function without.

Finally, his tongue unglued itself from the roof of his mouth and allowed him to speak.

"No."

"He is alive. I can feel it." Khonshu sighed, almost sounding bored. "You and your wolves... Sometimes they are a gift... other times it is a curse."

It was true... there weren't many of his kind left, and they were useful as a commodity, but also a vast hindrance if they were separated. Very few were born after being hunted to near extinction, and even fewer still were bitten and turned.

He tipped his head to the side, "He will come back. But until then, we have work to do. There is a group of soldiers that have taken women and children from their homes. I'm sure you can deduce what it is that they intend to do to them. I want you to stop them and set their captives free." Khonshu tapped his staff against the thick bark of the tree, and in a sharp breeze, he vanished.

"Right..." He said, his throat tight; his body thrumming with anxiety, his hand shaking immensely at the strain of lacking such a vital part of himself. He wondered still, if he would be able to control himself, to hold himself back without him.

His wolf companion moved forward, nudging his snout into the palm of his hand, whimpering softly.

Sparing one last glance over the countryside, he made a hefty sigh.

"Where the hell are you?"

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Pt. 2: I will get to it eventually, I swear you guys

Extra super late author's note:

Yeah it's gonna be at least one or two more parts. I am gonna split it up to ease on the scrolling time for you guys! That and it feels neater than cramming so many lazy time skips into one post. I am going to get the rest of my drafts cleared (hopefully) and begin eating away some of those asks I have piled up in my inbox (that Tumblr didn't manage to delete by some miracle...)

My trip might be postponed, dealing with a lot at home, like me almost burning the house down today and almost passing out from the damn smoke because wooooo fire is bad

If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have none whatsoever!

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #wolfwalkers #wolfwalkers au

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bumpkinspice0 · 11 months

Text

Parallels Chapter 5

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!)

Word Count: 5969

Summary: An anomaly finally makes her way into you dimension and that comes with more than you thought.

Warnings: Canon typical violence (No blood or anything), un-beta'd as hell, S M U T, fingering, Tension, P n V sex (make sure you wrap it before you tap it folks), Praise kink, multiple orgasms, Miguel doesn't use stairs, don't look at me. Small note: I'm making a taglist for this fic! Just comment or message if you want to be added or just interact with this post!

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Series Masterlist

AO3

Chapter 5

Fury

Nothing compared to the highest rooftops of New York in the dead of night. Serenity and stillness above the constantly bustling chaos just below— The perfect hiding spot and vantage point. There was so much happening on the ground that people never bothered to look up all that much. Well, maybe they did a little more since you came into the picture.

It was a long journey but you eventually won the hearts of your fellow citizens. After years of fighting it couldn’t be denied that you were only here to help, despite what the Daily Bugle preached every Sunday.

“All units be advised,” the comm crackles in your ear. “Disturbance in Washington Square Park. Suspect reported to be superhuman.”

The largest victory in the past few years was probably getting the cops to finally trust you. Well, trust was a strong word. You could finally get in and fight a threat without having to worry about dodging gunfire or a helicopter chase afterward. The city's precincts were a good mix of welcoming your help with open arms or begrudgingly working with you. Still, it was better than what it had been.

Regardless, the NYPD were your eyes all over the city and you were the last call they hoped they’d never have to make.

“Call in the spider.”

That’s your cue— and you were finally close for once. Washington Square Park. No more than 5 minutes as the spider swings. You jump from your perch by the river and start making your way there. As you swing more reports come in.

“Suspect armed and dangerous. Explosives used.”

“Immediate area evacuated.”

“Suspect is airborne. Repeat, suspect is airborne. He’s got wings, fella’s.”

Oh, this was ramping up to be a really good night, but the next report nearly sends you tumbling.

“I don’t believe it– it’s— the Goblin. It’s the Green Goblin.”

Norman? No, he’d been dead for years. Killed by his own machines. This had to be a sadistic follower. A copycat. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d dealt with someone following in the footsteps of one of your mortal enemies.

Just another fun perk to this job.

You swing past the police barrier, landing in the circular concrete center of the deserted park. It was completely dark. They must have taken out all the street lamps. You couldn’t hear that god-awful maniacal laughter, but you smelled the residue from that stupid glider. The chemicals from some pumpkin bombs too. They were close, and they’d likely seen you swing in.

“Here, Goblin, Goblin, Goblin,” you taunt as you circle the center fountain. “If you come out we can play nice and maybe talk about our feelings.”

“ Spider-Girl , ” And there was that horrible, scratchy voice only someone with diagnosed insanity would think is cool. It definitely didn’t belong to Norman Osborn, though. You turn in its direction, only greeted with the sight of dark looming trees. “ Love the new suit. ”

“Oh, this old thing,” you mockingly bash, scanning the grassy area, “Just had it lying around, ya know. Not sure it’s really me though.”

“ Where am I? ” the faceless voice sneers, “ It was daytime. I was flying, then— You. You did this, didn’t you? ”

They were agitated— likely manic and confused, how could they not be if they’d somehow gotten their hands on the Goblin formula. You were the only target they had, and they likely hated you before all of this happened. You opt for the negotiating route.

“Look, buddy. We don’t have to fight,” You slowly raise your hands as a small peace offering, “If you’re confused, we can just—”

The figure bursts from the darkness, grabbing you by the throat and soaring into the night air. So much for negotiating. As you fly past the surrounding skyline you finally get a good look at your villain.

This goblin was a woman— with the most comically ridiculous pointed goblin ears you’d ever seen. She didn’t ride a proper glider but surfed on what looked more like a rocket. She wore head-to-toe metallic purple with some basic armoring around her mid-section and shoulders. All of her gear was clearly professionally made.

But there was something else about her. A faint aura. The way her body moved. The lines of her sadistic face— Something not of this world.

She was an anomaly.

Of course, how did you not think of it before? The one night you didn't wear your watch. It would have alerted you right away. You’d never had an anomaly enter your dimension before. Every one of them you’d faced up until the point was in someone else’s world. Other dimensions already felt so strange and off-kilter to you, you never stopped to think about how truly out of place the anomalies were. They all looked alien when the entire world was alien.

But this was your neck of the woods. This was your home and she was just so clearly not part of it.

“ How did you do this? ” she steadies her glider and holds you out over empty air.

“Would you believe me if I said this wasn’t your dimension?” You wheeze out in her grasp.

Through some divine comedic timing, she glitches. As her hand phases between worlds, you fall from her grasp. You tumble a few dozen feet before catching yourself on a building. Clinging to the brick, you look back up at your new goblin assailant.

The glitching comes to a shaky stop and she steadies herself on her rocket glider again. She takes a small moment to look down at her hands, a wave of shock overtaking her green face before it settles into fiendish joy.

“ So... I can travel between dimensions? ” she says more to herself than to you.

“ Travel is a strong word,” You get her attention.

She looks at you, “ You’re not my Spider-Girl? ”

“It’s Spider -Woman, actually.” you ready yourself to pounce at any moment.

“ How many of you are there? ” She asks, anger dotting her words.

“Oh yeah sure, just let me just give you a quick overview of the multiverse,” Without giving her time to react you shoot a web to the tip of her rocket glider, thrusting it off kilter in one motion. She goes flying. You jump after her, “That’s a terrible glider design by the way.”

“ Insolent brat! ” She screams, reaching out her hand. You reach for her, only to instantly be met with open air as she’s swept away by the glider. She can summon her dumb rocket- surfboard.

Of course.

You bank to her right, shooting web to at least immobilize her hands. Any web that gets near her is immediately slashed by blades now protruding from her wrists. You aim for her glider again, but she easily bobs and weaves past all of your shots now that she knows what to expect. She was better on that thing than you thought.

You jump, sticking yourself to the underside of the rocket glider. If you can’t stop her, then you’ll just have to dance with her.

“ You think you're a match for the Goblin QUEEN? ” She sneers, whipping around wildly to fling you off.

“Oh, apologies, your majesty. ” You rip off a panel of the flying device, grabbing at any cables and wiring you can, “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty.”

She grunts in frustration, whipping you to the left and slamming you into the nearest building. In the midst of the searing impact, you lose your grip on her.

“ Pathetic.” She swings around to hover in front of you, “ You’re not my Spider, but you’ll do for now. ” She barrels toward you at full force, a massive blade unsheathing from the front of her glider. Without time to jump, you catch her glider— holding her at arm's length while the blade extends out to mere inches from your face.

The brick around you cracks and crumbles as the full force of her glider pushes down on you.

“ I’ll kill you, then I’ll harness this power and kill ALL of you,” Oh great, she was monologging , “ Every Spider, dead by my hands. This is what I was born to do!”

“M-might wanna check that ego, lady!” you grunt, hiking up your feet to push back on the body of her glider. It was awkward but you had the leverage— you just don’t know how long you can hold it.

You kick your legs up, using her own force against her, and send her spiraling backward. You immediately get out of your cornered position and head back towards the open park. If she was covered in knives and reportedly using explosives, best to keep her away from any buildings. Make her focus all of her attention on you. You stand in the center circle again as she hovers overhead.

“ You can’t run, Spider-Woman, ” She taunts, “ And you can’t win .”

You don’t time have for a witty remark before she’s charging at you again, her glider's blade front and center.

You’re about to act when a bassy boom crackles and rips through the air, giving you both pause.

Then you feel it— A buzzing at the base of your skull.

Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding.

The portal forms just to your right. His webs appear first, red treads shooting from the golden light. They latch onto her glider. The Goblin, shocked, attempts to correct her course, pulling Miguel the rest of the way out of the portal with her. He stands strong, several strands of webs in each hand. He whips his lassos downward, sending her flying off the glider. Before she can summon it back he whips his arms again, redirecting it straight into the ground. It explodes instantly.

He drops the webbing and shakes off his shoulders. He turns to you, sleek mask obscuring his face. He was here. He was actually here.

“Uh, Thanks,” You say, “Was trying to get her off that stupid thing for like 10 minutes now.”

“Don’t mention it,” Though you can’t see it, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Two of you now? ” your assailant broods from the shadows. You and Miguel immediately stand back to back at the sound of her voice, “ No matter, you’ve stopped nothing. You can’t stop Fury. You can’t stop destiny. ”

“Oh, she’s a monologuer,” Miguel scoffs.

“Mhm, she’s already vowed to kill all of spider-kind.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he tuts back.

“Are all of you always so arrogant?” She sneers.

“Pretty much,” You answer.

What happens next you still can’t fully articulate. It was a matter of milliseconds, yet it felt as if the world moved at half its normal speed.

You feel it before you see or hear it. She throws three pumpkin bombs. Before the devices even leave her hands you know exactly what direction they're coming from in the darkness— And seemingly so does Miguel. You move together in perfect unison, dodging the explosives as they implode on the ground. She starts circling the two of you, throwing bomb after bomb. Still, not one touches you. Here in a complete darkness, it’s like you could feel every move she was going to make.

“Damned Spiders,” She grunts in frustration as she throws another pumpkin bomb into the concrete clearing. This one doesn’t explode on impact though. You and Miguel pause.

“Smoke!” He shouts, just a second too late. Pink gas explodes from the device. You’re able to escape only after having gotten a lung full of the nasty stuff. You cough and wheeze, barely able to swing to safety in the sparse trees. Miguel is nowhere to be seen, but you can sense him nearby. Maybe this spider-sense thing was coming in handy for once.

Goblin laughter from behind sends a shiver up your spine. You turn to see her perched in an oak tree. Just a few yards beyond her, a broad figure lurks in the settling pink mist. To catch this one, you had to be smarter. You’d have to lure her in— and part of you thinks Miguel has the same idea.

“Not bad, for a Psychopath,” you dust your legs off.

“ I think you mean visionary ,” She croons. “ You and your brutish Spider-man are no match for- ”

“Say’s the lady with no ride and a quickly dwindling supply of Spirit Halloween props.” You glance over and Miguel crouches down to all fours— Ready to pounce at exactly the right moment. Her guard is still up, if he jumped now he’d be met with a grenade directly to the face. You could distract her. Get all of her attention on you again. She obviously liked to talk, so…

“How do you even become Queen of the Goblins ?” You ask, leaning against a tree. “Is there a king? Is it David Bowie?!”

“ Silence! ” She screams. When in doubt, always go for the ego with super villains, “ I was chosen by Norman Osborn. Chosen at birth and raised for this purpose. ”

“Norman Osborn is dead.” you sneer, “And he certainly isn’t bestowing his messed up legacy on babies.”

“ In your reality, maybe. In mine, he’s a god, ” She crouches down, “ But you’ve opened my eyes to the possibilities, dear. Osborn lives, somewhere out there. I’ll find him. I’ll rally the goblins and we’ll finally kill you all.”

“Norman Osborn is dead ,” You repeat, “He always dies. Always . And it’s always a Spider standing over him.”

“ Not anymore.” You see her face contort in anger. Attacking her goblin cult leader must be the way to go.

“You know why?” You step toward her, “Because he’s weak.”

“Shut. Your. Mouth. ”

“Just a weak, pathetic, ordinary , man.”

“ Shut up! ”

You ready yourself, “Make me.”

She barely gets a foot off her branch before Miguel pounces from behind. All in an instant, he grabs her, pinning her arms to her chest— a portal forms above you, and Miguel, Goblin Queen in hand, fly’s through it.

It blips closed before you can follow. You instinctively reach for your watch, only to realize again you did wear it tonight. Of course, that’d make everything too easy. Why would you wear it if you weren’t planning on an interdimensional battle tonight? A mistake, you assure yourself, you’ll never make again.

The brief thought of hurrying directly home and following Miguel flashes through your mind. Even if you could somehow get back to your Brooklyn apartment in a matter of minutes, you still had other duties to attend to. The sound of several officers entering the park brings you back to reality. Miguel was a pro— he could handle it from here. You needed to let your people know the situation was taken care of.

You speak with the Sargent and Captain at the scene, spinning some lie about her being a deranged follower and one of her bombs malfunctioning, and vaporizing her instantly. It was absolutely ridiculous but they trusted you to never lead them astray. Better to lie here than release the secret of access to the multiverse. The threat to your city was gone. That’s all that mattered.

You, fortunately, manage to escape a press statement this time, regretfully leaving that task up to Captain Stacy. He was better with the cameras than you were anyway.

It’s nearly 3 a.m. when you finally get back home, sneaking into the building through your rooftop perch. Honestly, it’s an earlier night than most. Your back aches from being slammed into a brick wall and your head is still spinning from whiplash. A hot shower and your bed sounded like paradise.

Your building was an old warehouse renovated sometime in the 2000s. It used to be a massive bakery. You swear you can still smell freshly baked bread in the bricks some 20 years later. You fucking loved your apartment. Vaulted ceilings, massive industrial windows, and a lofted bedroom. You were able to afford it out of sheer luck.

Some business tycoon's daughter was kidnaped. When you returned her safely he handed you a briefcase with hundreds of thousands in cash, refusing to take no for an answer. You felt dirty taking it but you were flat broke since starting college and the medical bills from your nightly activities were piling up. You were younger then— and desperate.

Jack seemed amazed you were even feeling remorse for it at the time.

“You’ve saved this city how many times?!” he’d scold you. “I think you can have something for almost dying for the people of this town on a bi-weekly basis.”

Part of you agreed and part of you felt you were straying from the path— whatever that meant. Jack begged you to get something nice for yourself— so, you got this place and vowed never to take money for your job ever again. You fell in love as soon as you saw it. Your safe haven. Spider HQ, as Jack affectionately called it.

Miguel had an entire tower, you could have more than a shoebox apartment.

He was probably back at the tower now. You grab your watch and check the villain logs. Lyla kept a detailed list of who’d been captured and where. And there she was, right at the top.

Fury the Goblin Queen: Earth-982

Status- Captured: Earth-727 at 2200 hours

He handled it. Nothing else to worry about. You let out a heavy sigh and peal off your suit, sports bra, and underwear. A scorching hot shower and some ibuprofen were calling your name.

You’re about to climb the steps to your bathroom when you feel a slight tremble in the walls along with a buzzing in your head.

Again? Right now? You’re suddenly very aware of your complete nakedness and quickly grab one of your long abandoned t-shirts from a kitchen stool to cover up with. The baggy shirt barely brushed the tops of your thighs but it’ll have to do.

The golden portal formed in your living room, a still fully suited Miguel emerging from it. It closes behind him with a deep rumble.

“Thanks for waking all my neighbors up,” you pinch the bridge of your nose.

His mask fades away, revealing that stupid handsome face, “You didn’t follow.” he simply says.

“Didn’t have my watch. I won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t check in, either.”

“Didn’t think I needed to,” you groan, rubbing the back of your stinging neck, “I just got home after defusing the scene for 2 hours. Sorry if it slipped my mind.” The last part comes out more bitchy than you intend but you were fucking tired. And he comes to your home— To what? Berate you about protocol? Fuck off.

“Sorry, just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says, earnestly. Okay, well now you do feel a little bit like a bitch.

He could have just called or asked Lyla to check up on you, be he came himself. He was here, in your apartment. The realization makes your spider sense spike.

He’s here and you're both alone.

“I’ve… never fought with you before,” He says, relaxing his posture, “You did good.”

“You too,” you say passively. You lean against the kitchen counter, letting the following silence linger into uncomfortable territory. What else was there to say? He came to make sure you were okay, the villains locked up and your dimension isn’t crumbling. Still, that dreaded sixth sense pulled at you to keep him here. Just a little longer, “Has it ever felt like that before?” you finally ask.

“Has what?” he furrows his eyebrows.

“Fighting… with another spider,” You clarify, “When we were in the clearing— When she was throwing the bombs. The way we moved, it felt so—”

“Instinctual,” He finishes, taking a step toward you. “No, it’s never felt that way. It’s like you knew what to do. Like you knew what I was thinking.”

“Yeah,” You shy away from his gaze. You suddenly feel the gravity of it all. While you were grateful for the benefits of the spider sense, something was wrong with you. With both of you. This wasn’t a normal spider-sense. Whatever this was, was like a brick through the window of your daily life. Something was triggered in you, and you couldn’t turn it off. Now you’ll probably never be normal again— not that you really were before.

Everything felt perfect before. The city finally accepted you, a new job you were proud of, and new friends just like you. People that could understand in a way no one else could. You’d found a balance and a new passion for being Spider-Woman. Now, for the first time in years, you cursed your abilities. You doubted yourself. An outsider again, even amongst your own kind.

“Hey.” Miguel’s voice brings you out of the spiral. He’s standing directly in front of you. When did he get so close? “You okay, little spider?”

The nickname makes your cheeks flush.

“Yeah, I—” You stop yourself from rambling, bringing your hand up to your cheek “This is kinda fucked up, isn’t it? You and me?”

He snorts a small laugh, “Yeah, kinda.”

“Whatta we supposed to do, Miguel?” you ask yourself, more than him. Even if his test showed something, then what? Just learn to live with it, you suppose.

“Business as usual,” He reiterates from the other day in his room. Why did business as usual feel so difficult then? You’re not even sure what that means around him. A silence stirs between you two again, but this time you feel something building. Your mind screams at you to touch him. To let him take control and ravish you. You squeeze your legs together, doing your best to hide it even though it’s no use. If you felt it, he felt it too.

“I should go.” He finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Sure,” you nod. Neither of you moves. You see the hunger behind his brilliant red eyes.

You hesitantly reach out, running a hand up his broad chest. You needed something— Just a little of him. His breath hitches at the contact but he doesn’t shy away. His suit’s technology ripples in the wake of your touch, illuminating and fading away to show the rich, tan skin underneath— before phasing back in an instant. He grabs your wrist, halting your movement at his stomach. You can feel his heart rate rising under your touch.

He pulls you in, lips crashing in a frenzy of movement. You throw your arms over his shoulders as he pins you against the kitchen counter. His arms cage you in as his massive body overwhelms you.

Every move you make is feverish and desperate, begging for more of him. His tongue selfishly delves into your mouth and you moan at the taste of him. The sensation sends your head reeling. He bites at your lower lip before ghosting down to your neck. He was hungry— so were you.

Your head is spinning. All your pain and exhaustion now completely forgotten and replaced with pure, unbridled lust. The connection screams in gratitude, finally getting what it wanted.

“Miguel,” You sigh into his hair, as he leaves a trail of hickeys down your shoulder.

“I know,” He moans without halting his work, “ Lo sé. Yo también lo siento. ”

His bare hand snakes up your leg and hitches around the hem of your t-shirt. He pauses when he feels nothing else there.

“How scandalous.” He smiles against your skin, running his calloused hand across your bare hips. You shiver in response, suddenly unable to articulate language. He cradles your head with his other hand as he buries his nose in your hair, “Oh god, you smell so—you’re so—”

He runs his open hand over your bare cunt. You gasp and arch into him, rolling your hips over his fingers. Greedily rocking back and forth against his rough hand, you coat his fingers with your growing arousal. He moves his hand gingerly as you do so. He gently runs his middle finger along your seam before thrusting it inside.

You swing your head back with a moan, clawing at his shoulders. He takes the opportunity to devour your neck again while working his hand in and out of you. You’re at his complete mercy. Whatever he wanted from you, he could have— you’d happily give it.

His mass threatens to topple you over the counter. You hook your leg around his hips, opening yourself to him more. You feel his entire body vibrate with a moan as his lips proceed to explore every single inch of you that they can. His thumb comes up to work against your clit and it sends you to a new level.

“P-please!” You gasp. You’re not entirely sure why you say it.

He pauses all of his movements, glowing red eyes meeting yours, “Please what?” it’s more of a demand than a question.

Tell me what you want.

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with your mouth, “Please fuck me.”

Then you see a shift in him. Like his eyes glaze over and somehow become more animalistic. It sets all of your hair on end and a new wave of arousal washing over your senses.

His voice drops an octave, “Where’s—”

“Upstairs.” you barely pant out, glancing up at your bedroom just above you. He follows your eyes, quickly taking the hint.

“Okay, little spider. Okay,” he ever so slowly draws his fingers out from your slick heat. You whimper at the sensation. His hands trace over your soft thighs before hooking under them. He lifts you like nothing at all and your lips come crashing back to his. You entangle your limbs around him as he walks you both out of the kitchen and to the open living room. He doesn’t go towards the stairs though, instead walking to the opposite wall. Before you can correct him, his hands are off you— talons digging into your living room wall.

He scales the bricks as you cling to him, not stopping your hungry kissing for a single beat. His powerful limbs move under you with brute force but his torso still holds steady for you to carry yourself on. A small reminder of just how strong he was.

He hoists you both over the railing of your loft and carries you to the bed, dropping you into the messy, unmade sheets. His hand comes to the collar of your shirt, ripping it down the middle. You shrug off the shreds and briefly wonder if you’ll ever be able to do this without ruining any clothes.

He takes a moment to drink in your naked form, eyes slowly traveling down the curves of your body. You squirm under his gaze— Your breasts heaving up and down in anticipation.

“Miguel,” you reach out to him.

Come here. Please.

His head twitches, eyes darting back to your face. His small trance broken, he smiles down at you. The edges of his suit start to fade away in a pale blue glow until there’s nothing left but a pair of black boxer briefs, his form silhouetted by the streetlights from the window. He hastily removes the underwear, freeing his throbbing hard cock. You drink him in, in all his glory.

He trails his massive hands back up your thighs and over your torso as he crawls on top of you. His hands are scorching and rough. He pauses at your breasts, running his thumbs over each pebbled nipple.

He takes one into his mouth, kneading the other roughly. You squirm under him, gasping at the contact. His cock twitches against your stomach. He seems to revel in it— watching you fall apart by his hand. You can’t say mind much either.

“Miguel, please,” You beg, pulling at his hair. He lazily comes off your breast, lulling his tongue over your nipple before rising completely.

“So impatient , ” he murmurs. He brings his hand down and runs his fingers through your wet folds, slowly gathering your arousal. He sits back, towering over you. He strokes his massive length, covering himself with you. His gaze burns into you as he puts on the show— small gasps escaping him with every stroke.

Look at what you do to me.

He crawls down your body. You bring your legs up from under him and hook them around his waist. He reaches down and guides his cock to your entrance. The blunt tip presses dauntingly against you and then you, only for a moment, worry you can’t take him— Then he rolls his hips forward. Your face contorts into a blissful silent scream as he begins stretching you to your limits.

“Oh god,” He moans as he slowly takes you inch by inch. He rolls his hips lightly before burying himself to the hilt. You’re legs are already quivering around him. “Relax for me.” He whispers into your ear.

He starts the pace slow, drawing out almost completely before rolling back in. Each dauntingly slow stroke of his cock was a wave of sensory overload. He had you stretched to near painful limits but with each steady thrust, it melted into pure pleasure, your body relaxing around him.

A little faster now, you start to roll your hips with him. Once your rhythm is set, he brings his starved mouth back down to yours. You moan into him, feeling it reverberate in both your chests. You consume each other greedily.

Your sense is singing in absolute ecstasy.

It’s never felt this way before. You’d had a meager handful of lovers in your life, often leaving you wanting and disappointed— But this? This was something entirely different. Something so deep-rooted and primal. It scared you. It excited you.

“ He pensado en esto durante tanto tiempo.” He murmurs into you, “ Te sientes asombrosa.”

You absolutely do not have the brain capacity to even attempt to understand him right now. Still, the way he so lovingly says it makes your heart swell.

“You sound like sin,” He grunts against your neck, “It’s fucking beautiful. Eres hermosa, mi arañita. ”

Your growing arousal makes you more vocal with each movement— the coil in your belly already tightening more and more. Your sinful screams bounce off the walls of your apartment and back to you.

He’s leaving a growing trail of marks across your shoulders, evidence that he’s been there. You can’t say that you disapprove of the reminder. He’s so vigorous in all of his movements with you, it was getting close to overwhelming.

You’d thought of this— you’d dreamed about it for months now and he was incomparable to whatever you could have possibly imagined. Not just because his dick was proving to be something out of this world— well, you suppose it was— but because it was just him. His smell, his sound, his taste— he overwhelmed your every sense as he made love to you.

He hits something new and deep inside you, and you jump under him. He takes notice. Of course, he does. He devastatingly slams his hips forward into the same spot again. Electricity surges through you.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it? You like that?” He chuckles, thrusting into the same hypersensitive spot over and over. A few more thrust and it was your undoing.

You can’t even warn him before it hits you like a freight train.

You claw down his back as your orgasm overtakes you. Limbs numbing and mind blacking out to nothingness for brief seconds, it was almost too much. Quivering beneath him, he works you through it. Each thrust extends your blinding pleasure just slightly longer before it subsides into maddening overstimulation.

“Good Girl,” He moans against your ear, “S-so, fucking tight. So good.”

He doesn’t slow his pace, continuing to fuck you through your prolonged high. He takes full advantage of it. You gasp for any air you can, every nerve in your body threatening to burn up in the euphoria.

“One more,” he grunts, “I know you have one more for me.”

He nuzzles into your neck, teeth bearing down on the soft flesh there. The pearl gleam of his fangs flashes in your mind, and you know you should be afraid— but you're not. The idea of him drawing blood is strangely pleasing. His tongue licks up along the reddened mark his teeth have left there.

Then he shifts you— untangling your legs from him and pulling your hips up off the bed. You plant your feet as he holds your shaky hips. He rises and starts to thrust down into you, bringing his fingers to your clit, and rubbing small circles over your already fried nerves. God, he looked fucking magnificent towering above you— His face pure lust. Eye’s lidded and glossy, sweat pecking at his brow.

You grasp at the sheets, trying to find any sense of stability. Another wave is washing over you, “M-Miguel. Miguel, I’m gonna—”

It rips through you quicker than your first, but no less powerful. Your voice catches in your throat as you gasp for air, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“That’s it. That’s it,” he chants as crawls back over you, pulling you closer, “Fuck, you feel so good when you—”

His steady pace becomes sporadic as he chases his own relief. You feel his hips start to quake and his eyes go completely red.

“W-where?” he gasps.

“God— inside!” you scream impatiently. You can inform him of your birth control after, though he seems to take the hint.

He cums with a string of grunts uttered into the sheets next to your head, hips shuttering still as he pushes as deep inside you as you can. You feel him throbbing against your walls as he fills you. Every muscle in his body is quivering and tense and then… he relaxes completely. You hold him close, arms and legs wrapping around him. You bury your nose in the nape of his neck, memorizing his musky scent.

You both stay there for what felt like hours, in unmoving silence. Breathing each other’s heavy air, clinging to the other’s body. Truth be told, it was probably less than a minute, but it stretched on for eternity.

He’s the first to move, rising up to rest his sweaty forehead against yours, “Holy shit.”

How romantic. But that pretty much summed up your feelings too.

“Holy shit.” you chuckle lightly in agreement. You notice while coming down from your sexual high your spider sense has also been tamed into silence yet again. That was to be expected but there was something else this time. A new level of satisfaction. You can’t help but wonder what it’s like on his end, “What’s it feel like... For you?”

“It’s…Peaceful. Satiated and content.” he says, rolling onto his side. Your breath hitches at the loss of him. “It felt satisfied before when we… but now…”

“It’s different.” You finish his line of thought. It was vague and incredibly obvious, but how else could you possibly describe a sensation you’d never felt before? Yeah, it was different, but how? You just simply didn’t have the words— not yet.

It was everything and nothing you’d ever known before. He made you feel that way.

“Will you stay?” you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. He’s obviously taken aback.

“I don’t—”

“Just- just for a little while.” You quickly try to backtrack a little. It feels needy and clingy but you feel like if he left you’d be lying awake for hours with your spider sense screaming at you. Just hold you for a little while? Is that so much to ask? You’re worried you just massively overstepped a boundary… but then his expression softens into a faint smile.

“Sure, little spider. For a little while.”

_____________________________________

Lo sé. Yo también lo siento- I know. I feel it too He pensado en esto durante tanto tiempo- I’ve thought about this for so long Te sientes asombrosa.- You feel amazing Eres hermosa, mi arañita- You’re beautiful, my little spider

For the love of god, please let me know if any of this is wrong.

Fury the Goblin Queen is a character from the Mayday Parker Spider-Girl comics! They were my favorites growing up and I thought Fury was cool as shit. She surfs on a fucking rocket, like come on. Too bad she was raised in a cult though.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse

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pikahlua · 2 months

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so, I dunno if you typically answer questions like this, as it seems like most of your Asks are related to dissecting the manga, but!

in your opinion, what's the best way to write a post-canon fic without getting wrapped up in keeping it loyal to the still-unfolding story?

for context: i'm writing a (potentially long) post-war-arc fic at the minute, but seeing as how the arc is still ongoing, I'm finding it challenging to not stop and rewrite and every time i learn something new. perhaps this is a stupid problem to have lmao, but you seem so good at untangling the MHA narrative threads, so I guess I'm just curious if you have any tips for folks trying to weave 'em in our own way?

thanks in advance, and thanks for all your hard work in general <3

Aww I love this ask!

So if you think about it, there are plenty of great post-canon fanfics out there that were written without the full context of the series. The lack of information those stories have about the end of MHA does nothing to hurt those fics.

You have several options really. You can commit to adapting your story in future chapters to what may happen in the MHA canon as it goes, but that's a pretty difficult path to take. I started my fanfic based on the assumption we would eventually learn AFO's real name, but now I'm realizing I'm going to have to come up with a solution to the possibility he may have no other name. You could pick a cutoff point in MHA and write a story that doesn't rely on any information that might come later. You could write based on an alternate set of events to fill in the blanks so that your story is canon-adjacent and divergent. In any case, you have to accept the fact that you're writing a story before the source material has ended.

The real question you have to ask yourself is: what does "keeping it loyal" mean to you? I'd advise you to remember that, no matter what, you're not writing something that will be part of the official canon. That gives you a lot of space to move around. If you try to stick too rigidly to the canon when you don't know how MHA ends yet, then ask yourself what your story is even about in the first place. If your story is so up-in-the-air right now that the important beats in it could change at the drop of a hat depending on what happens in the canon, then you don't have a story; you just have an idea. There's nothing wrong with that per se. Plenty of authors write without knowing where their story is going or how it ends yet.

My suspicion though is that's not your problem. I'm guessing that you're just worried about small details or references to events in the canon that may incidentally occur in your story. To the best of your ability I would advise that you don't worry about such things. Just write KNOWING you will do that. It's a feature of fanfic to do so, not a bug. Anyone reading your fanfic will know that.

So now I come back to the question about what does "keeping it loyal" mean? I am writing an AU fanfic. I have to ask myself often what I care about when it comes to "keeping it loyal" because AUs have the potential to diverge so far from the canon material they're practically their own original stories. In this case, "keeping it loyal" to me is about the characters. When I write these characters, are they behaving in the way I would expect them to in the canon? I've chosen major events in my characters' backgrounds to make them behave similarly to how they would in canon because to me, the appeal of an AU is in seeing how my favorite characters would behave in a new environment. By extension, I've also chosen some events to happen in my fanfic that maintain similar themes to the canon. My characters may have to change some from their canon counterparts based on the specific events that happen to them, but there is a core vision of the canon in my heart I always try to come back to.

It's a lot easier to keep that distance between my story and the MHA canon because I'm writing an AU, and that helps me to answer your question because the obvious things my story and the canon have in common are the characters and the story themes. Those two elements would be my answer to you. The line becomes grayer when you're writing a story set in-universe to the canon. My best advice is to not get caught up in those details. It's far more important that you write and get out your ideas. You can always come back and edit things later, EVEN AFTER PUBLISHING. That's the forgiving nature of fanworks. That said, I personally think canon-divergent/alternate canon stories are supremely underrated, so I would embrace the label. It's up to you if you want to do that or just try to adapt to the canon as you go, but IT'S OKAY if your story doesn't completely match up to the canon. It doesn't make your story any less loyal to the source material so long as you maintain that integrity in other ways. No one is reading fanfic because they expect it to be a rehashing of the exact events in MHA anyways. They're expecting something new, something additional, whether it's an embellishment, a soliloquy, or an entirely alternate set of events.

Just write what's good for your story right now, and everything else is incidental.

#anon ask #ask pika #my fanfic #writing craft! <3

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nobodysdaydreams · 4 months

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Well TMBS Fandom, It's Finally Finished.

That's right folks. After just over a year, I have finally finished my 350k+ word fanfic. You don't have to worry about seeing it in the tags any longer. My burden can finally be laid to rest in this beautiful, narratively satisfying ending that I'm sure you all will enjoy. And to show my gratitude for all my lovely readers, I even went through the trouble of adding several spoiler memes to this post under the keep reading button. I'm also especially excited about this chapter, because it answers a question that @mvshortcut asked me in one of their comments on my very first "The Oldest Siblings" fic. Sorry it took me so long to answer it, but better late than never.

Also: on the off, random chance that anyone is upset with this ending (no clue why you would be), please know that there is an author's note coming that explains a lot, it's just gonna take some time to write it, but I think you’ll enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 29 Summary: SQ has a conversation with his aunt and learns new information about his family.

Once again tagging everyone who originally expressed interest in the fic: @sophieswundergarten @myfairkatiecat @kneeslapworthy @serial-serializednovelreader @itsgoghtime @oflightningandstars

Thank you all for reading! 🥰

#tmbs #the mysterious benedict society #sos mbs #mbs sos #sos #mysterious benedict society #mbs disney #tmbs disney #mbs fanfic #tmbs fanfic #TMBS #Nerissa Benedict #Sq Curtain #sq pedalian

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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GHOST'S "OPEN BAR" 3K CELEBRATION

as a way to say thank you and show my appreciation for hitting 3k, i decided it's about time for a party around here... don't y'all? and what better way to get a party started than to get a little boozy! (haha get it? BOOzy? because ghost? no? okay i'll stop.)

THE RULES: below the cut will be a fun menu filled to the brim with delicious drinks! send me an ask with your order, and as long as it follows my general rules, i'll whip it right up for you! the idea here is each drink represents a different general trope, and you fill in the blanks with a character of your choosing (see below) as well as general ideas! below will be examples of requests. i will being doing as many of these requests as possible for this week, from april 3rd (today) to april 8th. starting april 9th, i have a different fun week planned for us to keep the party going, and will announce it on sunday <3

WHO I'M WRITING FOR: eddie munson, steve harrington, spencer reid, and joel miller. you must specify the character in your request, or i will not complete it.

EXAMPLES OF REQUESTS: "hi! can i get a filthy martini with eddie munson? maybe some overstimulation involving toys?" or "can i get a flute of champagne with joel miller? maybe what the end of the day looks like in the QZ!" you can get as specific or as vague as you'd like! these are just examples :-)

also, before we dive in, i've also filled this post with easter eggs towards just a few of my favorite fics/authors (and a couple of my own). i have added a link over each reference in case any of them catch your eye. i wouldn't have hit this milestone without all of these wonderful people who inspire and support me, and there was no way i wasn't sending a nod their way during this event. i love y'all endlessly <3

alright, onwards with the party bus, friends!

THE MENU:

🥃 WILLOW'S OLD-FASHIONED: angst

long week? a new job babysitting a rockstar that just cannot and will not behave? has that blonde coworker you just wish you could slap into the next week gotten on your final nerve? look no further! sit back and cry relax with one of our famous old-fashioneds!

🍷 ASH'S SPECIAL: hurt/comfort

whiskey and bitters not your cup of tea? be still your old heart! no worries! relax like the world's ending from your long week with a good book and a glass of our famous Sauvignon Blanc instead!

🥂 FLUTE OF CHAMPAGNE: fluff

sip on some of our top shelf Dom Perignon and get lost in the bubbles! this classic will have you feeling so good, it's almost as if you've traded bodies with your arch nemesis in a freaky friday ordeal. just don't think too hard about his... mechanics below the belt... or this drink might be a boner killer. let the good times roll!

🍸 FILTHY MARTINI: smut

feeling dirty? look no further. here at ghost's, we've got you covered with one of our dirty, downright filthy martinis. disclaimer: we are not legally responsible for you getting colorfully intimate with your friend's dad or if you end up in a 3-film-box-set porno deal. yeah, our lawyers make us put those disclaimers now. keep it in your pants, folks!

not looking to get tipsy tonight? no worries! check out our extended menu options - we've still got you covered <3

☕ CUP OF SUNSHINE: mutual pining

get it hot! get it iced! get it fresh! as long as you get it before it's gone! wake yourself up with a cup of our coffee brewed in-house. cream and sugar available upon request. (hot and dirty sex in the back room not available upon request.)

🥐 KARMEN'S CROISSANTS: exes to lovers

be sure to grab a snack during your night out! these croissants are absolutely to die for (just don't fall for your reaper, folks!). enjoy this lamented pastry in our favorite armchair by the window while enjoying one of our many books laid out for your pleasure!

easter eggs i'm unable to tag (aka banner):

the "yes" policy

and my own twenty-four hours

also, filthy martini is fully a shout out to the legend behind the man of the hour who has inspired a large majority of these fics as well as my own - mr. joseph quinn himself. may all his martinis be the absolute filthiest.

once again, thank you all. i will never know how to repay the kindness showed to me, so i will do what i do best - write. also, please keep in mind i have no idea how many requests i will receive. my hope is to complete as many as possible without driving myself to absolute madness; please be kind and patient with me <3

#3k celebration #eddie munson #steve harrington #joel miller #spencer reid #aaaaaah what am i getting myself into oh lord #i really do love all of you thank you for being so nice to me haha #i'll be making an official rec list of all my favorite fics soon #this is just a taste

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lady-phasma · 3 days

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Hi, what I’ve noticed particularly about the house of the dragon fandom is that unless you’re a good fic writer or are friends with a good fic writer the fandom ignores you . I’ve seen people on here and TikTok make friends online that become friends irl . I know that’s not always the case but it seems to me that unless your s good fic writer here or a good editor on TikTok the fandom ignores you . I don’t get it . As if people who don’t write fics don’t have opinions or can discuss things . It’s really upsetting to

Hi nonnie. I'm so sorry you're upset. 💕 First, hugs.

Second, full disclosure, Tumblr is my only "social media" aside from a Facebook account I use to mostly stay in touch with family and friends from college. So I can't speak about TikTok creators. I would very much like for you to reply to this if you feel like it. I'm going to tag you as 💝 but please let me know if you want a different one.

The reason I hope you'll respond is so you know that your opinion matters. If you want to share your opinions with me I will listen and usually respond pretty quickly. Also, I would like to know your thoughts on "good fic writer" - I'm just going to say creator as a general term in this answer but I don't think the qualifier "good" matters and here's why...

If that is your perception and, perhaps the perception of other non-creators, it might be a little skewed because creators on all platforms tend to connect with one another for advice, criticism, tips, or help (like beta reading). That's why I'm not going to qualify someone's creativity with good/bad.

I truly do not want anyone in the fandom to feel this way. At all. Not ever. You do not deserve to be ignored. You have thoughts and opinions and they are interesting. Finding the niche group we fit in with is as difficult online as it is in real life.

I can't speak about TikTok, but for Tumblr, I think writers might appear to be the "loudest" because this is a platform that people use to read fanfiction. Does that mean that I think only fic writers should have the bullhorn? Of course not, and there are a few blogs who aren't fic writers, mostly nonfiction or opinions, and they get seen. So I would like to ask you this:

Do you not feel heard because a specific person or group belittled your thoughts? Or do you not feel heard because you don't feel like you are having the amount of personal interactions in the HotD fandom that you expect?

Lastly, I don't know about making friends irl from Tumblr. I have made friends who I chat with off Tumblr and have known for ages it seems and we still haven't shared our real names! (And I love them so much!) Tumblr is a bizarre and lovely place. "Social media" has really only been applied to Tumblr retroactively. Sure, we come here to socialize, but I don't assume that I will meet any of my lovely friends in real life. There's absolutely no pressure.

I don't want to take up too much more of your time but I would be honored if you would be my friend. I don't mean you have to out yourself in my DMs or come off anon. I want to know that you're okay, I don't want to worry about you. I want you to not feel ignored. As unhinged, insane, toxic, and exciting as the HotD fandom is, it's got some amazing people in it, just like any fandom. I found that I had to reach out to some people first and that's hard for a lot of folks. I have made other friends because they reached out to me first. If you do come back to my inbox (I sincerely hope you do), I'm curious how long you've been in the fandom/on tumblr, but only tell me what you're comfortable with. And if you just want to fill my inbox with fandom thoughts, that's okay too! I'm here for you.

#asked and answered #love my anons #fandom stuff #💝 anon #hotd #hotd fandom #house of the dragon

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duckprintspress · 4 months

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Hi there, i'm not sure this is in your wheel house, and I hate to waste your time, but I had a question and wonder if you might be able to offer advice (no worries if you can't or don't want to). i write a lot of fan fiction, but also have lots of idea about non-fan fiction stories. when i've tried to write them, however, I find the idea of getting a whole story out to be sufficiently intimidating that i've never been able to do it (there are probably other reasons for this of course, too). i love the A03 capability of posting one chapter (which can be super short) at a time; it's a real impetus to keep going without having to complete an entire work up front, esp if the feedback along the way is encouraging. what is your take on getting an original fiction story out in a03, but then trying to get it published elsewhere afterwards (taking it down from a03 at that point if necessary)? is that something feasible to try to do?

or perhaps you have other recs? (I don't think my original stories (unlike my fan fic) is likely to be focused on LGBTQIA+ relationships or issues, and i'm straight, so i suspect it's not what your publishing house is focusing on)

thank you so much for even reading this message.

Howdy anon! So there's a few things brought up in this message, and I'll try to answer each.

First: yes, we love offering advice and getting asks! Srsly, you and everyone, don't hesitate to drop stuff like this in our inbox, I love answering them, and if I (hi, I'm @unforth, meatspace name Claire, pen name/editing name Nina, and I own the Press and run our social media accounts) don't know the answer, I can kick 'um to the DPP server and get more folks to weigh in!

Second: yeah, motivation is a constant challenge, and what works is always going to be different for everyone. Those comments each chapter can be all that keeps me going on a long fanfic sometimes (and even they're not enough sometimes, oops, shovels a bunch of unfinished wip under the carpet behind themself)

Specifically, you ask: what is your take on getting an original fiction story out in a03, but then trying to get it published elsewhere afterwards (taking it down from a03 at that point if necessary)?

So, works are absolutely converted from AO3 stories to published stories. I can think of a half-dozen examples off the top of my head (one of the most recent being Even Though I Knew the End by C. L. Polk, which started as a Dean Winchester/Jimmy Novak fic). However, I'd point out that original fiction gets very VERY low engagement on AO3. Most of the conversions I know of are people taking fanfiction and either scrubbing the barcodes (as in, swapping character names and removing/replacing canon references) or completely rewriting it. If the feel you're struggling with is "I want to get fanfic-like engagement but on a completely original work" I think you'd struggle to get that on AO3; virtually no one I know who has posted original works on AO3 has gotten that engagement on those works.

Publishing it as original fiction that you don't substantially change for publication will also weaken your ability to get it published. It'll guarantee that you can only apply with it to places that allow/do reprints, because you've already "used" the First Worldwide Publication Rights that most publishers will want for an original thing - because you already published it. So even if you remove it, the cat is already out of the bag on "first," and that will limit your options - another reason to do it as fanfic that you then rewrite. It's relatively hard to find places that will publish works, especially long works, that the First rights are already off the table (though we're one example of a place that will, we've published things that are up on AO3, and allowed the unedited versions to remain on AO3 when we've done so. For example, several of @tryslora's stories. We've also allowed the opposite; there's at least one original work on AO3 that started as a DPP exclusive for Patreon, and when the rights reverted back to the author, they chose to post it to AO3 with our blessing).

Of course, you can bypass these issues by self-publishing. Then what you keep and what you change, whether you keep it on AO3 or remove it, etc., is up to you, because you're the boss. Self-pubbing puts a lot more of the work on your shoulders tho - editing, cover art, marketing, typesetting, etc., all of it becomes your responsibility.

But: yes, taking works from AO3 to original fic publishing is feasible and is a thing that happens all the time. Depending on how you're publishing it and/or how extensively you rewrite it, you may not even have to take it down, but it would depend. Certainly, for most trad pub/big publishing houses, they would expect you to take it down.

Re: your last point about working with us, we require exactly zero disclosures from our contributors about their sexual or gender orientation. Our only requirement is that authors have posted fanfiction on a public, accessible fanfiction website. To the best of my knowledge, the vast majority of the people we work with are LGBTQIA+, but I also know for sure we've worked with at least one person who was cis and het. There are probably more. It's honestly none of my business. We've also published plenty with no LGBTQIA+ component. The way we work, we accept authors, and once we've got the author, we publish what they want to write, we're not particularly interested in policing that. Things without LGBTQIA+ don't tend to sell as well, because of the interests of our customers, but we'll put it out anyway *shrug*. I'd guess around a quarter of our catalogue has no explicit LGBTQIA+ rep, maybe a bit less.

Anyway! Hi, I'm wordy. TL:DR is: you can absolutely try to motivate yourself to write original fic by publishing it to AO3, but engagement is likely to be low, and doing so will make it harder to publish. If you feel you need the motivation that posting chapter-by-chapter gets you, it'd be better to write it as fanfiction with the intention of rewriting it later, as this will improve engagement without doing as much damage to your ability to publish it later.

and if you wanted to write with us, you'd be welcome; we recruit authors through our anthologies, and I expect our next open call to be sometime over the late spring or summer. We only juuuust started talking potential themes a few days ago.

Hope this helps!

-unforth

#unforth replies #faq #duck prints press #publishing #writing advice

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ellecdc · 30 days

Note

GIRL WTF PLS

i just read a man w a plan

i’ve spent my whole night last night and today to read it bc why the fuck have i not seen this fic before

girl-

ITS AMAZING PLS UPDATE I CANT HO ON LIKE THIS ANY LONGER

LOL you're so funnyyyyyyy I'm glad you loved it!!

also, some of our folks were waiting for part seven for like two months sooooooooooooooooooooo patience is a virtue, it's a marathon not a sprint 😮‍💨 but don't worry; I don't want to leave you all on that cliff hanger for long

#ask elle #remus is a man with a plan #amwap

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improvised-finish · 1 month

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15 Lines of Dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @archaiclumina, thank you so much! (And apologies this took so long to do, it slipped my mind)

Admittedly I don't have a ton of dialogue for Lehon'a written yet and I'm currently working on a story featuring someone else's character for a gift exchange, so I don't have anything really new. But! I figured I could grab a snippet from one of my finished fics to perhaps convince people to give them a quick read. So here's a chunk from one of my Wondrous Tails fics, which you can find in full here!

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

“Hi, Lehon’a… I hope you, uh… haven’t been waiting long,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

“Nah, I just came to get a bit of this stuff in me before we get to spilling our guts, so to speak,” she replied. “D’you want some? I just finished this one, I’ll grab both of us another, if you’d like. On me.”

“Yes, I would. Like one, I mean. Please. And thank you.”

“Of course, G’raha.” She stood up, steadying herself on the edge of the table and making a mental note to order some water in addition to their beverages. “Be back in a sec,” she said as she strode off to the counter, leaving G’raha to sit in one of the two unoccupied chairs.

While Lehon’a was waiting at the counter for the drinks, she watched Y’shtola walk in and scan the crowd for familiar faces. Eventually she spotted Lehon’a, who pointed behind her to where G’raha gave a shy wave. Y’shtola took a seat right as Lehon’a returned with the tray of glasses and the pitcher of water.

“Doesn’t someone usually… bring that to you?” Y’shtola asked, more confused than anything.

“Yeah, but I figured I’d save ‘em the trip since I’d have to walk back over here anyway. Still left a tip, don’t worry about that,” Lehon’a replied, setting the beverages on the table and pouring herself a glass of water.

Y’shtola let out a laugh, shaking her head.

“So getting back to business, as it were,” Lehon’a began, “you’re probably wondering what in the seven hells could be so important that I felt the need to wrangle you both here and intoxicate myself for your amusement.”

“I did notice that after a brief moment ashore you seemed to make haste towards the source of liquor, yes,” Y’shtola said with a wry smile.

Lehon’a’s already red face grew a slightly brighter shade.

“Anyroad,” Lehon’a enunciated, clearly trying to move past that point of discussion. “I wanted to talk with you both after what happened in the vault. And not the fight in general, you both held your own in the heat of battle. I guess what I'm trying to say is… when I went to use a dance to heal all of us, I took your hand,” she continued, gesturing to Y'shtola, “and… well, you both gave me quite a look after that.”

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Tagging a few folks who I believe also have some writing they might like to share (as always, these are optional, no pressure): @azems-familiar @ferrocyan @sasslett @gatheredfates @otherworldseekers and anyone else who's got dialogue to share!

#ffxiv #tag game #lehon'a nhavareh #warrior of light #my wol #g'raha tia #y'shtola #my writing

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romaine2424 · 11 months

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Daily Blog July 9, 2023

Happy Sunday! Things on the home-front have calmed down significantly so I've been writing writing writing and a little reading. One of the hardest parts about writing a long chapter fic is the loneliness of it all. Writing is usually a Solo event. There is a huge rush you get (okay that I get) when posting something new. You're excited but also worried that no one will like it. You wait for that first like, bookmark, oh hell for that first comment! But that feeling may only come once or twice a year.

Fandom History Musings:

One time, I did adventure into writing a Drarry murder/mystery story with nine other authors. Level Two: Series 1. We had a 2 producers, a showrunner, 2 mods, editors, artists, and email discussions about who would write which chapter in the plot and have it done on time so the next author could build off of it. Take a look at this Link of Acknowledgements. You can see how much work was done in the background. Most of us authors just wrote. We had it easy. But some did double, triple duty. This is the link to all of the amazing artwork, promo video, promo releases. Even if you don't read the story, the spectacular artwork by @dustmouth-blog, @raitala and @eatingfireflies (epithalamium on LJ) you will truly enjoy! Small warning for one or two NSFW.

I'm I beyond proud that it was completed, that I was a part of it, and that it was very well received, but would I do it again. Absolutely I don't know! The arguments over the plot, the sensitivities, 4 folks dropping out for various reasons, but yet we did persevere. One of our disagreements was what the theme song should be. I suggested something lame and got shot down, which was totally fine. Still love the song, though. @raitala suggested a song by Muse, which many others loved. I hated it. I'd hadn't heard of Muse and what I heard I wasn't a fan. I think of that now and laugh because I love Muse and when I'm writing, they're on my playlist. Sorry @raitala, I was wrong.

What I'm Reading:

I think I should rename What I Read. :)

It took me a few nights to read Some Flowers Bloom in the Dark (271K) by @rockingrobin69. I still have to comment on it *makes note to do so*. This is a very intense and disturbing fic to read, but oh so well done. Here is the author's Summary and Note:

Draco is very seriously entangled with someone he only refers to as Sir, or He in the privacy of his own mind. He's been entangled with Him - obsessively, impossibly - for years now, almost as long as he'd been out of prison. So what if he wasn't exactly happy? He was used to this life by now. He knew what to expect, and even if it wasn't always so great, at least he didn't have to think about Azkaban. He didn't need to be saved by some sloppy-haired git. He didn't need anything. Apparently, Potter didn't care. Why, why must he always ruin everything? *All non-con elements and Dom-Sub tones are not between Harry and Draco. *Rough references of abuse. Past and current non-con. Dark, dark, darkness. Then some light.

This is a dark, difficult story of recovery. It's painful, long, with a lot of angst and panic attacks and traumatic everything, so please consider before you read. Mind the tags for possible triggers.

This is the type of fic that you can't stop reading even though there are times you want to put it down, so you wince, you get frustrated with Draco, you get frustrated with Harry, but mainly you fear for Draco. He's been so damaged, yet, he's alive and persevering in the only way he feels he can. But you as the reader know its not a path that is survivable long term. As the fic moves on, that feeling that something horrible (more horrible than the past) is going to happen and the tension is very palpable. The writing of what Draco's feeling and why is spectacular and You absolutely need to get to that end to see what happens. @rockingrobin69 in the summary says 'some light' at the end. I was so so pleased with the ending. Draco did more than survive.

Drarry Tumblr Fic/Art Resources:

I love @weeklydrarryficrecs! It's always fun to see what story they've picked and some of their thoughts at the end. Especially when it says what type of mood it evokes or need it fulfills. I have a small TBR list so when I'm free to start a new fic, and if what I've saved to read I'm not in the mood for, I can pop over to @weeklydrarryficrecs and find what I'm looking for. I also appreciate the mixups of new and old Drarry fics. The top of my TBR is now Temptation on the Warfront (180K) by Aizarincrims0n (AO3), which was recced 3 days ago. It's a canon rewrite, which I'm really really picky about. Looking forward to later tonight when I can pop into this world.

Note: As I mentioned in my last Blog post, this will no longer be a Daily Blog but more on Random days. I'm hoping to do at least 3 a week.

Hope the week ahead is kind to you,

Romaine

#romaine2424 daily blog #july 2023 #fandom history #drarry fic rec

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the-starry-lycan · 4 months

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Across the Stars

[This is indeed a sea of stars fanfic, and is part of an AU I'm working on. You'll learn more as future chapters are posted.. but for now, enjoy the first chapter! If you haven't played or watched a playthrough of Sea of Stars, I highly recommend you do so before you read this, since this fanfic has MASSIVE spoilers! For TWs, I guess anything related to the canon of this series? There won't be anything NSFW or 18+ in this fic.]

Chapter 1: On The Way To Wraith Island

"Take in the sunlight, pals, I hear Wraith Island is reaaaal gloomy!" Valtraid called out as he stretched his arms toward the sun. "Yeah, a good 'ol soul-based Dweller'll do that." Yolande said, looking out at sea.

"Heh. Nothing you solstice folk can't fix, ov course." She added, noticing the worried look on Zale's face. The Blade Dancer looked out at the horizon. There was water surrounding them entirely; water in front, water behind, water on the sides. He'd swum before, but never sailed like this. This much water made him uneasy, but he kept quiet seeing as to how the others didn't mind it. Valere especially seemed to be enjoying the humidity, sitting cross-legged on the little raft and looking out at the expanse of ocean with Garl.

"Zale! Zale, come here, look at this!" Zale jumped, then crawled over to see what Garl was pointing at in the water.

"You see that?"

The boy squinted, peering down.. and saw a shadow move beneath. Something long and twisting, likely deep below them, snaked slowly through the depths of the water and out of sight.

"Gaah! What is that?!" Zale startled, creeping away from the water's edge. "Sea monster, o' course!" Yolande said cheerfully. "The seas are full ov em, but they don't mind ya unless ya piss 'em off or something."

"Woah! Have you guys ever fought a sea monster before?" Garl asked her, enthusiastic.

"Us? We've had our fair share ov battles!" Yolande flexed an arm with Valtraid. "Why, one time, we-"

"YOLANDE!"

Klee'shae's sharp voice cut through their conversations. The pirate captain glared at her crewmates, red eyes fierce.

"Sorry, cap'n. Well, 'fraid I can't tell ya the details, but we've fought, yeah."

"Well, who knows? We might see this creature on our way back!" Garl looked about, smiling a little nervously.

Yolande let out a laugh. "Haha! You haven't heard about the one-way-trip deal with Wraith Island, have you?"

"What do you mean?" Garl asked innocently. Valere looked a little bit concerned, though she was calm as always. Zale had envied her ability to keep herself so controlled.

"Well! You see.. No one that's been to Wraith Island has EVER RETURNED!!"

Zale's stomach sank. Ever returned? And he, Valere, and the other Solstice Warriors were supposed to just.. go there like it was some routine trip to kill the Dweller? He shuddered softly, thinking of all the people who must have gone, seeking treasure, and never come back for one reason or another. He could guess why - and it wasn't that they were content enough not to come back.

"Why not?" Garl asked.

"Stories say the Dweller of Woe has mind-control powers." This time, it was Keenathan who spoke. "After setting foot on Wraith Island, people are cursed to remain there for the rest of their lives. And life on Wraith island is.."

He paused, his slight smile faltering. "..it's lived day by day. For no one knows who the Dweller will prey on next."

"Prey?"

Keenathan nodded to Garl. "Aye, every so often, the Dweller sings with her cursed voice, compelling one of the denizens of Wraith Island to sleepwalk into her lair, never to return..."

"Okay, that's.." Garl looked saddened. "But why would people even go there, then?"

"Curiosity? Boredom? A need to escape? Frankly, you'll get to ask soon enough." Yolande looked out at the sun, which was starting to set. Zale sighed. He held out his arms, soaking in the last of the warm sunlight. Valere giggled, seeing his dramatic pose as he kneeled on the raft. "You're acting like it's your very last sunset!"

"Well, forgive me for wanting to enjoy every bit of the stuff!" Zale laughed nervously. She was right - it very well could be.

"Zale's right! We aren't gonna be seeing the sun for a bit, so I think we should enjoy it."

"Ahoy, Captain!" Valtraid called out. "Seems the sun be setting!"

Klee'shae turned to Valtraid and nodded curtly, turning her attention back to the sea. The crew looked about as though searching for something.

"Oy." Yolande caught Zale's attention with a pat to the shoulder. "Don't ya blink now, or ye'll miss it."

Garl jumped as he saw a flash of light, staring in wonder at the green silhouette in the distance. "Woah!" The warrior cook grinned, pointing out at the horizon. "There! I see.. what is it?"

"Behold!" Keenathan beamed. "The legendary ghost ship that appears at dusk. The Vespertine!"

Zale stood in awe as the ship came in to view, surrounded by crackling green mist. The trio gasped as the ship vanished as quickly as it had appeared in a flash of green lightning and the mist dispersed out across the surface of the water.

"Wow.." Zale looked over at Klee'shae, whose eyes were still fixed to the spot where the ghost ship had appeared.

"Quite the prize, innit?" Valtraid gave Keenathan, who was still magicking the wind into the sails, a hearty elbow. The sun set, fully now, and the full moon came into view, bathing them all in icy light.

"The Vespertine will be ours one day, or my name is not Keenathan!" The wind mage struck his trademark pose before resuming his magic, waving his arms as glittering magic flowed between his fingers, channeling the wind into gusts that blew against the sails. Zale's ears pricked at a soft chuckling sound. He turned to see Klee'shae watching the group. Her gaze softened when she saw Keenathan's and Valtraid's antics, though resumed her cold look when she observed Zale watching her. "Aye.." she murmured softly.

"All in due time, mateys." Yolande squinted at the approaching landmass shrouded in a thick cloak of what looked like clouds. "For now we're 'bout to hit the docks. Look alive, and brace yerselves!"

#sea of stars #zale #valere #garl #captain klee'shae #keenathan #valtraid #yolande #fanfiction #sabotage studio #Across the Stars fanfic

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ladye-zelda · 4 days

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Warriors angsting corner

Folktales

The cursed Deity

There’s more I want to ask about but… I haven’t caught up to anything you’ve already asked

XD No worries; I have updated the list to put check marks on the ones that I have done so that way it would be easier for everyone XD (and for myself too)

Warriors angsting corner

This was really meant to be a dump of stories to inflict pain upon our pretty knight (inspired by Silver) but I only have one thing on there called the Orphaned Knights AU and I swear I don't remember writing this XD Its one of those fics where all of the Chain just adopts each other I think lol

There really isn't a good place for a WIP (since it's all written like a summary except it's freaking long) and the short of it is Wars, Sky, Wild, Hyrule, and Wind are orphans; Twilight and Four are siblings and the sons of Time except Four lives with Time's adopted father for some reason; Time goes back to the military to fight monsters, Twilight sneaks out and joins the army to find him where he ends up meeting Warriors there; Sky, Wild, and Hyrule end up joining the military and Four and Legend become blacksmiths for them as well.

Yeah I have no idea where this fic was going lol

Folktales, but Zelda

This was kind of inspired by @/telemna-hyelle's own Zeldafied-folktale and I just wanted to make some of my own XD

The only one that I have in this doc is selkie Legend, largely inspired by the song "The Maiden and the Selkie" by Heather Dale

It was forbidden for a selkie to come upon land. It was made common among the seal-folk of the dangers of living on land outside of their seal form. If they were to stay on land past the stroke of midnight, they would surely die. But just because it was forbidden, didn’t mean it didn’t happen often. Legend had often admired the above world. He had spent more time on land than any of his other brethren, collecting trinkets and watching the usual passer-by from the safety of the beach. That was, until she came. People who passed by Legend unaware often spoke of the lady. A woman with red hair, dressed in island blue, with a voice that chimed like a harp. She had been walking along the beach while Legend was up there in his human form. He had stopped collecting trinkets as he stared at her with awe as the strange woman strolled along the beach, singing sweetly. Oftentimes she would stop to make friendly conversation with the seagulls. They seemed to talk back to her; a charm usually possessed by faery folk like he.

The Cursed Deity

Honestly have no idea where this fic was going too, but I had written something for this one XD

The threat that surrounded Hyrule was too great not to check out for herself. Princess Zelda, alongside Link, journeyed far into the woods not long after the strange attacks started. Monsters covered in a strange, dark malice had been attacking the nearby villages and towns. Already one has been massacred before the monsters had cleared the area, and Princess Zelda wasn’t going to allow it again. She was always on her guard, staring daggers into the shadows around her. They were lucky enough not to run into too much trouble, despite heading deep into the heart of this problem. It could only mean that something bigger was on the horizon. Link pressed a hand onto Zelda’s clenched fists, that she didn’t even know were clenched. She looked down and relaxed a little, repositioning one of her hands so she was holding his. They looked into each other’s eyes and he gave a comforting nod. She was with Link. She had no reason to be afraid while he’s around. Then why was she so afraid? They rode for a little longer until the woods started to thin. Black, charred tree logs replaced what was once green, and soon enough their horses’ feet were crunching through dead grass. The trail ended in a sloping drop to an endless valley of death. She could hardly believe her eyes as she showed her steed into a stop. What had once been a beautiful meadow on her map was now gone. Large rocks of inky blackness covered the map, which sent an uncomfortable chill down Zelda’s spine. Right in the middle of the cluster of rocks, looked to be a statue of some kind, glowing eerily with a black light. The hero and the princess dismounted from their horses, looking into the valley beyond. “That must be the source there,” Zelda said, pointing to the statue. “The Master Sword should be enough to—” Suddenly, the Master Sword was placed in Zelda’s hands. “Link, what are you doing?” the princess asked. “I’m going to go check it out,” he said, “take this, and run if anything bad happens.” He gave her the Hylian shield before sliding down into the valley below. Zelda called out to Link, but it was too late. He couldn’t hear her voice once he made it to the bottom, and headed carefully to the stone statue.

#the ladye answers #amazing aj!!!#wip ask game

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halsinsbiceps · 8 months

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A Great and Sudden Change - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 of AGaSC is up on AO3!

I have a request: please comment or shoot me a message if you don't think Astarion's "outburst" in this chapter fits his character. I'm not necessarily sticking to canon, but I want to be faithful to the characters. If people feel like it works, then I won't worry about a rewrite.

Thank you for reading!

Fic below the cut.

A Great and Sudden Change

Chapter 5

"Is that all you’re wearing?”

Enelya looked up from the clasps of her travel robe to find Astarion eyeing her up and down. She held her arms out and inspected herself in the gray pre-dawn light. “Yes? It’s all I’ve got; everything else was lost on that damned thing.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the Illithid ship. Including my new bag of Holding, she thought irritably.

“Darling, we’re all but traipsing into the midst of a goblin horde, and you don’t have a single bit of armor?”

“I don't see you fretting over Gale,” she commented. She slung her quarterstaff over her shoulder and tightened the strap at her chest.

“He’s a wizard. He fights at a distance and has plenty of wards and cantrips to protect himself. What do you have, outside of a frigid glare?” He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.

“...I have Barkskin."

Astarion sighed and grabbed her arm. “Come on,” he said as he led her deeper into the ruins. “There was a smith somewhere around here. Surely he has a cuirass or jerkin, something to keep that soft little body of yours safe.”

Enelya scowled. “I’m hardly little , or soft, and I can handle myself even without armor.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I also do doubt any of these goblins will let you waltz up to them and twist their arms out of their sockets like you did to Lae’zel.” Astarion began opening and peering into crates.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. She glanced at the sleeping forms across the room.

Astarion gave her a look that read, My dear, isn't it obvious?

“We are not stealing armor from them!”

“Do you have any gold jingling around in one of your many pockets?” he asked with a quirked brow. He lifted a jerkin by the shoulders, tilted his head in thought, then discarded it. “Consider it borrowing against your credit.”

“What credit?”

“The credit for saving their skins from a group of murderous druids.” He pulled out a set of simple leathers, regarded them a moment, then held them out to her. “Here. These seem to be about your size.” When she didn’t move to take them, he rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're more stubborn than a rothé."

"And you're clucking over me like a mother hen. I mean no offense, but you don't seem to be the kind of person to care about others." She crossed her arms. "What's going on?"

Astarion shifted his feet, not quite meeting her eyes. He suddenly seemed uncertain, a far cry from his normally arrogant self. Finally, he rolled his eyes and made a noise that was somewhere between exasperation and disgust.

“I actually take great offense at that," he said. "I care quite a lot, if you must know, and not just about my own self-preservation. For whatever reason, you’ve become the leader of this little group. Impressive though your skills may be, that doesn't mean you need to forgo protection, or be some sort of martyr. And if you insist on endearing yourself to every marginalized group we come across, you’ll need to survive long enough to see yourself become a folk hero.” His eyes - an unusually dark red, she noticed - bore into hers. “You’re important ." He held the armor out again.

This time Enelya took it from him. “Thank you," she said quietly.

As she changed, she considered Astarion's words. Was she truly putting herself in danger needlessly, carelessly even? She didn't believe so; she was simply doing what she could to help others...right? A lack of armor certainly didn't mean she was trying to be a martyr; her own had been in her bag of Holding, and she hadn't truly needed it in weeks. As for her importance…she tightened the final strap of the leather breastplate and shoved her thoughts to the back of her mind to be dealt with later.

She knew better than to believe she was any more important than anyone else.

The armor fit well enough; a bit tight around the shoulders and hips, but she could handle the discomfort for the additional safety. Astarion nodded approvingly when she stepped out from behind the crumbling wall that served as a privacy screen, a leather hood clutched in her hand.

“Much better. Now, before we go…I would appreciate it if we can keep my little outburst between us. We wouldn't want the others to get the wrong idea about me, would we?" He looked at her expectantly, a cool mask settled back onto his fine marblelike features.

She bowed her head. "Of course, Astarion."

"I'm glad we understand each other. Shall we?” He gestured to where the others had gathered to make final preparations.

They departed as the first golden rays pierced the skies overhead. A fine mist hung through the undergrowth of the forest and swirled around their ankles as they walked. Enelya gripped her staff and shifted her shoulders, the leather creaking as it warmed and stretched to fit her frame.

“They’ll be alright.”

Enelya glanced to her right to find Wyll walking beside her. “Who?”

“The tieflings. I saw you look back as we left. We stand between them and the goblins, and the druids will leave them be. They're as safe as they can be for now. You chose a good spot for them.”

“I hope you're right. The grove would have been better,” Enelya said with a soft sigh. “I probably made things worse for them, truth be told. But thank you for saying so.”

“You're welcome.”

A pleasant lull followed. When Wyll did not drop away from her, she cleared her throat to speak.

“About that devil. The one you were chasing in Avernus…”

He bowed his head. “Karlach."

"Sorry?"

"That's her name. A powerful devil from the Hells. She's a danger to the entire Sword Coast." Wyll's face was grim. "I have to bring her down."

"Why, exactly? Is it so important that you have to keep hunting her?"

“I suppose in the grand scheme of things, Karlach doesn’t seem like much of a problem. But she’s been terrorizing innocent people and leaving bodies in her wake for the better part of a decade. My…source said she was planning to return to Faerun, and I was supposed to kill her before she could.” Wyll shook his head. “You see how well that’s gone.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, if she’s as dangerous as you say…we should take her down.”

“‘We’, huh?” Wyll chuckled. “You really are a bit of a bleeding heart, aren’t you?”

Enelya felt herself bristle at the comment. “And if I am?”

He shrugged. “That makes two of us. Couldn't walk away from someone in need if my life depended on it. Kindred spirits, you and I."

She blinked, put off by the comment. "I was raised to help where I can. My parents, my Circle, my church all expected it. You must have been raised in such a way as well."

Wyll raised a fist to his chest, a proud smile on his face. "Baldur's Gate, born and raised. Been a while since I've been home…" he trailed off wistfully, then seemed to shake it off. "If you don’t mind me asking, where do you hail from?”

“The High Forest, in Northwest Faerun,” she replied. “I am a druid of the Circle of Tall Trees there.”

“Ah. That explains why there is such an otherworldly air about you.”

Enelya quirked an eyebrow. “'Otherworldly'? Was that your line for Shadowheart as well?”

She heard him take a surprised breath, but to his credit he bounced right back with his own quip.

“Actually I told her her eyes were as green as emeralds glistening in the sun. She didn’t seem to mind the compliment," Wyll replied in a good-natured tone.

Enelya smiled as well, then. “That’s not bad. A bit cliche, but I’ve heard worse.”

“You've been flirted with a lot, I take it?”

“Mmm…when you’ve lived for nearly 300 years you do.”

“300? You don’t look a day over 130.”

“Oh, very good!" She laughed. "What else have you got?"

"Plenty where that came from, I assure you…but a gentleman can't give away all his secrets."

"Then perhaps a gentleman should not speak." Lae'zel suggested as she overtook Wyll in clanking strides. Her withering glance did indeed shut Wyll up, but he turned to wink at Enelya before dropping back to walk with Gale.

They walked for some while in relatively comfortable silence. Wyll and Gale spoke quietly about their respective powers; Gale made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that wizardry was infinitely superior to other forms of magic casting. The warlock bore the criticism with a patient smile, even if it didn't quite meet his eyes.

Enelya gathered her hair into her hands and began plaiting it out of her face as the sun rose higher into the pale sky. The reverie of walking afforded her precious time to focus on her own thoughts, something she'd barely had since her abduction. The issue of these parasites dominated her concern at the moment. If the one in her head and the one Halsin and Nettie encountered originated from the same place - and how could they not - then she and her companions were still living on borrowed time. More than they had originally believed, but borrowed nonetheless. With any luck Halsin would have discovered something to help them, but luck was in short supply these days.

Which led her to the next concern on her list…the closer they crept to the goblin camp, the tighter the knot in her stomach twisted. She breathed deep, willing herself to focus on the task at hand, yet she could not keep her mind from conjuring scenarios of what it might be like to meet Halsin again. Would he be pleased to see her? Would he even remember her, or care? They barely knew each other, after all.

And yet…they had spent the better part of two days in her rooms in the High Forest, their bodies so intertwined that at times Enelya couldn't tell where hers ended and his began. She could practically feel his large, calloused hands sliding up along her back as he nipped and suckled at her throat, guiding her hips while she-

Her thoughts were interrupted by her hair prickling up on the back of her neck.

Enelya slowed to a halt, noticing they stood on a stone bridge. She tried to focus her hearing on something - anything - but there was only eerie silence except for the rushing of water beneath them.

“I feel it too.” Astarion stepped up beside her, a small crease forming between his brows. “Death.”

"There." Gale pointed across the bridge.

Several bodies of varying sizes lay at the end of the bridge. A man sat slouched on top of a crate nearby, staring down at them. As they approached he looked up from beneath a pile of brown curls.

“Aradin?” Gale sounded surprised. “What happened here?”

“Well, if it isn’t the foul blood lovers.” The man scoffed. “Damn gobbos ambushed us. Wiped out whoever didn’t get killed at the keep. 'cept me.” He nudged one of the bodies with his foot.

Enelya took in the carnage. Several goblins and a few adventurers lay dead. “You were the ones with Master Halsin.”

Aradin rolled his eyes. “Gods, if I hear that name one more time…Yes. He run off and got himself killed, and we got nothing to show for it 'cept this scrap of paper." He waved it around in his hand. "Gold's not much use when you're dead, is it."

"What were you trying to find?"

"Some hot-shot wizard in Baldur’s Gate hired us to find this Nightsong. Dunno what it is or what it does, but he'll pay through the nose for it. Couldn't get in when we was with the druid, couldn't get in now. And now I’m headed back alone." Aradin sniffed as he ran a thumb under his nose and hopped off the crate.

Enelya moved forward, hand raised to stop him. "Can I see that missive?" she asked.

Aradin all but flung it at her; it fluttered lazily to the bloodied earth. "Have at it." With that he walked away without a second glance.

Enelya bent to pick up the paper, now damp with blood at the seam. "Pleasant fellow," she said drily. "I thought he stuck around after they got back?"

"Oh, no. Zevlor gave him a blow about the ears and they ran off as soon as he could see straight." Gale’s words were tinged with sadness. "He's not much more than a kid, really. I hope he makes it home."

Enelya hummed noncommittally as she squinted down at the paper in her hand. "Lorr-oak-an? Does that name ring a bell, Gale?"

He took the missive from her and scanned it with a frown. "'The Recluse of Ramazith's Tower'…yes, I've heard of him. Mostly that he's a bit of an ass, but that’s no surprise. Most wizards are not as humble as myself."

Over Gale's shoulder Enelya noticed Astarion and Shadowheart exchange a wry glance, while Wyll hid a smirk behind his hand as he pretended to yawn.

"I've never heard of this Nightsong, however," Gale went on. "Surely you cannot call something a "storied artefact" when no one has heard of it."

“No one, in this case, being you,” Astarion said with a smirk.

While Gale floundered to produce a comeback to his jab, Astarion continued. "Even so, we have a lead on a bit of treasure someone will pay handsomely for," he said. "Once we figure out this tadpole nonsense, maybe we can all work together to find it and split the reward, hmm?"

Shadowheart snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. As Aradin said, gold is no use if we’re dead. We should press on.” She strode ahead.

“Shadowheart is right, much as it irks me to say it,” Lae’zel said as they followed the cleric. “I am eager to rid myself of this ghaik parasite. I have my doubts about this druid’s abilities, however. The only true way to cleanse ourselves is to use a zaith’isk .”

“Now, pray tell, what is a zaith’isk ?” Gale asked, his retort seemingly forgotten. They passed into a deserted town as Lae’zel explained the healing instrument used by the Githyanki. Shadowheart stopped walking suddenly, her eyes focused overhead. Enelya stopped as well and followed her gaze to find a goblin peering down at them from the rooftop of a nearby building. She slowly slid one hand behind her back to grip her quarterstaff.

“Looks like we’ve got some company, boys!” the goblin called. A handful more goblins popped out of the windows and doors of the building. Enelya could see five in front of them, and if the shuffling behind them was any indication, there were at least three more flanking them. Lae’zel and the rest of the group had fallen silent, readying themselves for a fight.

“What’s yer business?” the goblin called down. As they spoke, a strange symbol over their left eye began to glow. At the same time, Enelya felt a surge of confidence flow through her, striking down any feeling of uncertainty. She felt powerful. Authoritative. The tadpole squirmed in her head, and she felt her body relax significantly of its own accord. Curious, she leaned into the feeling. An unseen force seemed to take control of her as she stared the goblin down.

“We need not explain ourselves to the likes of you.” Her voice rang out boldly with words that were not her own. “You will let us pass.”

The goblin immediately cowered before her authority. “I-I’m sorry, True Souls!” they exclaimed, their eyes wide and fearful behind their helm. “Please, make your way in peace. You will find our leaders at the ruined temple, just that way.” They pointed west, through town.

Enelya led the way, not sparing the goblins another glance. The authoritative sensation waned, and as they reached the center of town, Shadowheart grabbed her elbow.

“What was that?” she asked. The worry in her eyes was evident.“That… power . Did you feel it?”

“I’m not sure,” Enelya admitted. “It definitely came from the tadpoles, though. I let it direct me, and they just bowed down.”

A sudden, sharp pain pierced her brain, as if someone had stabbed her in the temple with a white-hot ice pick. She gasped and clutched at her head. Shadowheart reached out to steady her.

“What’s wrong?”

The pain lingered as Enelya straightened, blinking away the shadows at the edge of her vision. “I…I think it bit me.”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed. “We must be careful,” she said softly. She extended a hand and cast a healing spell. The pain in Enelya’s head dissipated. “Whatever this thing is capable of, it comes at a cost. It could be speeding up the ceremorphosis.”

“She’s right,” Gale said, a troubled look on his own face. “We should avoid using this power until we know more, at the very least.”

"That's not our only problem," Wyll said. He had drawn his weapon and was turned to face the north, leading away from the path the goblin indicated. "Karlach is here. I can sense her, that way.” He pointed with his rapier. “We need to kill her before she can wreak any more havoc."

Enelya shared an uncertain look with Shadowheart, then eyed the sky. It was still quite early; they'd made good time. Surely a quick detour to dispatch an Infernal threat wouldn't take long. She gave a quick nod, and Wyll's face lit up as an almost giddy grin spread over his face.

"Excellent! Follow me, and be careful."

Astarion muttered under his breath, but followed the group.

They made their way out of town through a large oak door that was hanging off its hinges. Wyll stopped for a moment, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly he turned and focused his gaze on a barn not far from them. He gestured for the others to follow as he began to slowly approach the building.

As they neared the building they each drew their weapons and fanned out. Wyll continued to take the lead, creeping closer to the door so he could open it. Enelya could hear movement inside from where she stood near a window, and hazarded a peek inside just as Wyll reached the entrance.

What she saw gave her pause.

A large Tiefling sat in the middle of the barn, curled into a ball with her knees pressed to her chest as she breathed heavily. She was wreathed in flame. A low, anguished moan escaped her as she threw her head back. Enelya saw one horn was broken off; the other curled back and away from her face.

Wyll kicked the door open with a bang .

Karlach hardly reacted, only shooting him a pained look. "Fuck me," she said with a shaky laugh. "You found me, then.

" Advocatus diaboli, " Wyll said as he stepped into the barn. He held his rapier steadily in front of him. "Now you meet your end."

Karlach opened her mouth to quip back at him, but instead grit her teeth as flame flickered anew around her body.

Enelya slipped around the corner of the building and entered the barn herself.

"Wyll, wait. This is no devil."

Wyll spared a glance in her direction. "You see what I see, Enelya. Look at the flames. This devil was in the front lines in Avernus. She's Zariel's right arm! I must take her down."

Suddenly Enelya was knocked back as her senses were assaulted by a connection to her tadpole. She could see the planes of Avernus stretched out in front of her. A war axe swung wildly as she fought, her eyes scanning the red skies. Sweat poured from every pore, steaming into her eyes and down her neck and back. In her chest, her heart ground out a mechanical beat.

A flash of light, and above her was a ship, all writhing tentacles and smoke pluming from its sides. She didn't think, just reacted; sprinting towards the craggy cliffs of brimstone, the Blade of Frontiers not far behind. A single thought rang in her mind over and over.

My way out .

The connection snapped.

"I'm not a devil," Karlach whispered hoarsely. She struggled to her feet, clutching at her chest. "I was sold, sent like a horse to slaughter, and forced to fight." Another wave of flame flashed over her. She grimaced. "But go ahead. Kill me. I'd rather die than go back to Avernus."

"Good news for you, then." Wyll flourished his blade and stepped forward.

Enelya stepped in front of him, locking eyes with him.

"Wyll."

He glared at her. "Enelya, move."

"You know this is wrong."

"And you don't know what you're asking me to do. Please," he whispered. His voice was strained as he searched her face imploringly. "My source…my contract is unforgiving. I must do this."

She shook her head. "She's innocent. A victim of the Blood War. Can't you feel that? You saw her memories. She's infected. And…she’s a tiefling, Wyll. Not a devil."

Wyll looked past her, at Karlach, who had gone quiet and still. Hesitation and fear were written plainly on his face. Enelya reached a hand out and pressed her palm flat against his blade, slowly lowering it.

Wyll finally withdrew his weapon, only to fling it to the floor and toss his hands in the air. " Shit! " He spun, kicking a bucket across the room and running his palms over his braided rows of hair. Then, without another word, he stormed out of the barn.

Enelya released a shaky breath and bent to pick up Wyll's rapier. Then she turned to Karlach. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

Karlach nodded. "Yeah. Pretty bad, too…" She lifted her hand to reveal a gaping wound in her side. Blood trickled freely down her hip. "Not exactly helping my ticker," she said with a short laugh.

Enelya frowned, unsure of what she meant. Either way, she needed a healer. She moved to the door. "Shadowheart?" she called.

"I'm here." The cleric appeared in the doorway. "What do you need?" Then, seeing Karlach and her bloodied body, she moved to her side, hands aglow.

"Wait!"

Karlach's warning came too late as Shadowheart laid her hand over her wound. There was a sizzling sound, and Shadowheart screamed as she pulled her hands back, reeling away from Karlach with red, blistering palms.

"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry!" Karlach's eyes were wide with horror. "I'm burning too hot, I didn't mean for-"

"It's alright. Te curo ." Shadowheart’s hands were bathed in a soft blue glow. She held them up to show Karlach, her skin healed and smooth. "See? All better."

Karlach let out a relieved sigh. "Still, I'm sorry. Something's up with this thing; it's been acting up since I got out of Avernus." She pounded on her chest. There was a metallic thump and a strange grinding sound. "Doesn't help I've been run through, though. It's working overtime. Do you have a potion or something?"

Shadowheart murmured again, casting her hands in Karlach's direction. The tiefling sighed happily as the healing spell washed over her, watching with interest as the hole in her side stitched together gently. The flames surrounding her ebbed until none remained. A distortion still rippled the air around her body, but Karlach’s shoulders relaxed away from her ears as the grinding noise stopped.

"Thanks. That's a lot better. Still hot, but I'll take it."

Gale, Lae'zel, and Astarion came into the building. "All well in here?" Gale asked, glancing between them.

Enelya nodded. "Yes. For now at least. Where's Wyll?"

"Gazing despondently into a chasm, at the moment," Astarion said. "I feel the same way. This was horribly anticlimactic; I'd hoped we'd finally kill something. " He eyed Karlach up and down. "So this is our newest charity case, Enelya? You're certainly gathering all the strays you can find."

Enelya ignored his comment and turned back to Karlach. "You look like you can handle yourself. Want to come kill a bunch of cultists?"

Karlach stared at her, a bewildered expression. "What, just like that? I mean… fuck yes, but…you know nothing about me. What if I'm actually a devil in disguise and I slaughter you all once your backs are turned?" She waved her hands around her head and widened her eyes dramatically.

Enelya's eyebrow arched with amusement. "Are you?"

"Nope!" Karlach grinned.

"Well then, that's settled." She turned to the others. "Make sure she's got what she needs. I'm going to go get Wyll, then we're heading out. No more delays."

Gale gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

Enelya paused briefly to stare at him. "Please don't do that again."

He nodded sheepishly and lowered his hand.

She turned on her heel and left the barn, scanning her surroundings as she went.

She found Wyll at the edge of town, indeed staring down into the abyss at the churning river below. She quietly came to stand beside him.

"The call of the void?" she asked. He looked up at her

"Somewhat. If I throw myself off this cliff it might prove to be a better end than what I have coming."

"Care to tell me more about this deal? The contract?"

"...I can’t, I’m afraid. I'm sure all will be revealed soon enough, though. Don’t worry."

"Alright. Well, until that end…" She held out his rapier.

He reached out and took it from her. Before he could pull away, she laid a hand on his.

"While you draw breath, you have purpose." She caught his gaze and held it, squeezing his hand meaningfully. "The Blade of Frontiers has a lot of saving left to do. And besides…do you really trust the fate of the Sword Coast to those ruffians?" She nodded her head back towards the barn, her eyes glittering with mirth.

He smirked back at her. "Gods, no. Thank you, Enelya." He considered her for a moment. "This…isn't your first time leading, is it?"

She hesitated before releasing his hand. "No," she replied. She paused again, unsure of what else to say. The truth certainly wouldn't do; not as they were staring down a keep full of goblin cultists. She needed them to have faith in her. So she kept it at that, offering him a tight-lipped smile of her own.

"Ah. Well, keep your secrets then," he teased. "Gods know we all have enough to go around."

They met the others at the barn, then took to the path once again. They went back through town and across another bridge, ignoring the jeers and curious looks from the goblins stumbling around. By the time they reached the main gate of the defiled temple, Enelya was feeling beyond anxious. There were goblins everywhere, and their group of seven wasn't exactly inconspicuous as they tramped along through the mud.

"Hold up!" Yet another group of them guarded the gate, flanked on either side by worgs. Their leader stepped forward, his green-yellow face a smashed mess of features. He peered up at her. "Can't just wander in here. We're celebrating a raid. Gotta wear our war colors,"

The same mark from earlier glowed on their faces, and with it, that same overwhelming feeling of confidence. Enelya eyed the group - six goblins spread out along the wall, and two worgs. They could take them easily…

She hoped.

"What color would that be?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He pointed at a fresh pile of worg dung with a smug smile. "That right there. Perfect shade."

Enelya glared at the goblin. "You can't be serious."

He smirked. "You wanna get in? Gotta get dressed up."

Enelya hesitated, then stooped to scoop up the warm dung with her fingers. She heard several groans from the group behind her.

"Can't help noticing you're not wearing any yourself," she commented.

"Don't have to if you was part of the raid. Now." He gestured to her face, an excited smile splitting his own. "On ya get."

She hefted the dung in her palm for a moment, considering its weight. The stench alone was enough to make her stomach turn and her eyes sting.

Perfect .

She focused on the tadpole; it wriggled as it effortlessly linked to her companions'.

Get ready .

With a flick of her wrist, she flung the dung into the eyes of the goblins. At the same time, she swung her staff off her back and through the air, connecting with the leader's head with a sickening crunch . He collapsed into the mud without so much as a whimper.

Astarion rushed past, daggers glinting in the sunlight. " Finally !" He slit a goblin's throat as he passed, making his way to the platforms surrounding the wall.

The quiet morning erupted into chaos.

The air sang in Enelya's ear as Karlach brought her greataxe down into a worg's head. Gray chunks of brain splattered into the air. Then Karlach pulled her axe free and swung again, this time taking another goblin's head clean off.

A shout came from behind her. Before she could even turn, three Magic Missiles and an Eldritch Blast shot past her and practically eviscerated the other worg as it lunged at her. Gale and Wyll both let out whoops of victory.

And just like that, the fight was over. Enelya heard a gurgling death rattle as Lae'zel pulled her sword free from a goblin overhead. Shadowheart was making sure everyone was alright, but the only injury was her own twisted knee from slipping in the mud.

"Right." Enelya wiped gory bits of bone and brain off her quarterstaff with a worg's fur. "That went well."

"Definitely," Astarion drawled. His eyes were alight with excitement. Enelya had a sneaking suspicion that he was a bit bloodthirsty.

"Are we all good?" she asked. She pulled her leather hood free from her belt. "We should keep moving if we can. Shadowheart, is your knee alright?"

"It's fine," Shadowheart replied breezily. "Not even worth using a spell for."

Enelya nodded, then twisted her braid into a knot and dropped the hood over her hair. "Let's go."

Through the gate and around the wall they went, their weapons sheathed but eyes peeled for trouble. Ahead of them the temple loomed. They could hear the driving beat of a goblin drum from within.

Enelya wondered, as they began to cross the final, broken bridge to their goal, why this seemed so easy.

Then the world went black.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin #bg3 halsin #baldur's gate iii #halsin x tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #halsin x enelya #enelya #a great and sudden change

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 5 months

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hi helena! okay, could i request "the gaze that softens as soon as it lands on you" with anna and sledge?? i loved that fic omg! they're the dream couple for real haha thank you!!

Hi Blu, thank you for this!! Eugene and Anna are sooooo special to me you have no idea, I'm so glad you enjoyed their story!

Side note, I had just spent the day at a Christmas market when I wrote this so I was in a veryyy festive mood, hope you enjoy some Christmassy sweetness <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

December 25th, 1950

"Eugene!" My wife's voice rang from the kitchen as I sat crouched on the sitting room floor, carefully replacing the Christmas tree decorations our dog had knocked onto the floor with its incessant tail-wagging.

"Yeah, honey?" I called in reply, chuckling as it licked an affectionate stripe up the side of my face.

"Where'd you put the ham?"

My brow furrowed as I tentatively replied. "Well, darlin', we don't got a ham."

Anna appeared in the kitchen doorway, face contorted in a grief-stricken expression, hands on her hips as a dishtowel hung from the belt of her apron. There was a blatant smear of flour across her forehead that had not been there before, and I struggled not to smile at it, instead focusing on her evident distress. It had been the first year we had hosted Christmas dinner together - the first year we had spent it in our own house rather than travelling to visit her mother or mine. The whole thing had resulted from a misunderstanding during a conversation with my father, but by the time Anna had realised where she had gone wrong, the burden of responsibility had already been thrust upon us. And, as a result, I had so far spent the last two hours peeling vegetables.

"Eugene. My Love. My Darling. Why, may I ask, do we not have a ham?"

"We already got a turkey?"

She paused a long moment, closing her eyes, and I watched the way her chest heaved as she took prolonged, calming breaths. All morning I had watched on as she wound herself up into a state of panic, fretting over every tiny detail, even the ones I had covered, inspecting each of the potatoes as I peeled and tossed them into the bowl. It had always been her nature to be this way - as long as I had known her she had been a perfectionist and a worrier, caught up on expectations she believed others had of her.

Rising to my feet, I crossed the sitting room towards the kitchen, meeting her in the doorway. Tilting my head towards hers, I pressed my lips gently to her forehead, coming away flour-stained, before bending down to press another kiss to her pregnant stomach, shrouded beneath layers of dress and apron. Anna gnawed the inside of her lip, and I could tell she was resisting the urge to let a smile disrupt her irritated state, tapping her toe against the kitchen tile.

"You go finish your cookies, ok?" I urged, ushering her further inside, the warmth of the food still roasting in the oven filling the room and insulating us from the cold of snowfall outside.

"They're gonna be here in half an hour," She fretted, taking her stress out of the gingerbread dough as she pressed down with the rolling pin. "Mama and your folks and Mary and Sid will eat the turkey, but Mary's kids'll only eat ham, nothin' else."

"We can fill 'em up on mash potatoes and chocolate, don't worry," I assured her, rifling through the cupboard beneath the sink in an attempt to find a duster. The line of dust along the mantelpiece had been bothering Anna all day, and I knew she would be mortified if her mother saw it, even if Catherine March wouldn't give a damn.

"But we'll look like bad hosts if there's nothing for the kids to eat," Anna huffed, pressing the cookie cutter down with such force that I was worried she might dent the table. "And then your Mama will think I'm a bad cook, because her Christmases never went wrong, and Mary will think I don't care enough to remember what her kids eat, and what if it happens with our baby too, and I have to raise them on goddamn mash potatoes and chocolate because I never remember anything and-"

"Hey!" I bolted to my feet, crossing the kitchen towards her and gently seizing her wrists in my hands tugging her away from her baking and her anxieties. Her brow had been deeply furrowed, wrinkles creasing her forehead out of stress, her actions becoming more and more forceful with each worry that left her mouth. But as I took hold of her, turning her towards me, her expression softened, her entire body relaxing as if all concern had drained from her the moment we locked eyes.

I leant forward, pressing my forehead against hers, taking one deep breath after the other as she slowly began to do the same. When I spoke again, it was scarcely more than a whisper. "Everything will be fine. I am gonna call Sidney and ask him to bring a ham, we can put it in the oven when they arrive, and it'll be ready the same time as the turkey. And you-" I paused to press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, making Anna chuckle. "Are not gonna forget to feed our child - hello? And hey, look, even if you do sometimes, a little chocolate here and there never hurt anybody."

"You sure Sid'll be able to bring one?" She asked quietly, and I almost laughed at her sudden meek expression.

"Mary knows you better than you know yourself, dear. I guarantee she's factored this into the equation."

Anna laughed, throwing her hands up in surrender, nodding continuously as her anxiety floated away. "Alright, yeah. Yeah, it'll be fine," She smiled, reaching up to dust a few streaks of flour out of my hair. Taking a deep breath, she let out a sigh, a gentle smile creasing her cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you too, you... insane person," I despaired, bending down to kiss her properly.

#prompt asks #eugene sledge #eugene x anna #oc: anna #eugene sledge x oc #the pacific #sidney phillips #mary houston

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suckerfordylansstuff · 2 years

Text

New Journey (S.H.) Chapter 4 Season 1

! This is a backstory. There are more chapters to the actual fic. Check my masterlist !

Pairing: (eventual) Steve Harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: The beggining of the story. How did Y/n Henderson get herself into this mess? How did she deal with the loss of a dear friend and how will she survive the bullies and monsters?

Warnings: swearing

Notes: New chapter! The next one I'll upload will be from season 4. I'll try to get the next chapters of season 1 ready to upload them quickly, so I don't confuse you with the back and forth. I hope you're safe out there and please enjoy the chapter!💕 (In the next one is where the good stuff happens)

Gif not mine

Chapter 3 << New Journey Masterlist >> Chapter 5

Will was dead… You couldn’t hide from the fact any longer.

You felt stupid. You had tried to hide your pain by focusing on fake hope. Of course Eleven was wrong, of course Will’s body was found. Because this is real life and not some D&D game. You didn’t know what her powers meant, but you shouldn’t have let four kids drag into an adventure that you 1. knew was dangerous and 2. was hopeless from the beginning.

At the end of the day this is what life is about. Bullshit. Misery. Hurt.

And that’s why you didn’t want to be alone this moment.

After you took the rest of the kids back to their places safely (sneaking Eleven inside Mike’s basement), you didn’t feel like home would be ideal for you know. Being alone with your thoughts dreaded you. You could tell Dustin wanted a distraction as well. So, you took him at the dinner. You didn’t want to miss your shift tonight. It felt comforting stepping through the door and seeing Mr. Miller and Donna’s faces.

“Glad you could make it tonight. Get dressed and work on your usual tables. Not a lot of folks here tonight.” Mr. Miller said as he saw you besides the door. He was relaxed up until he saw both your and Dustin’s faces, filled with fear “Are you kids okay?”

“Um…” you hesitated. You knew by tomorrow everyone will know about it, but frankly you wanted to avoid confrontation as long as possible, so you played along “Yeah, yeah, all is well. We just saw a rat outside and we both hate rats.”

“ Yeah, don’t like ‘em” you were thankful Dustin was quick to follow your way of thinking.

“A rat? I better make sure none of our backdoors are open. I do not want another one of those things inside here? Remember Donna?” Mr. Miller picked up a broom he had places nearby, ready to scare away any rat he sees, as he recalls a dreaded memory with Donna.

“Oh yeah, I do.” she had a knowing look in her eyes as you all watched the man exit to the kitchen area. Not long after, her attention was pulled back to the two of you, still standing in front of the door “You sure are okay, sweetie?”

“Yep.” you answered quickly. Your hands fell on Dustin’s shoulders quidding him through the dinner and settling in front of the counter looking at the black-haired woman.

“Well, I’m happy to see you.” she sent you a sweet smile that made you forget everything for just a moment “And you, young man. Look at how much you’ve grown.” Sse shifted her attention to Dustin, who gave her a toothy grin, always welcoming compliments “Go sit and while you sister is getting ready, I’ll prepare you a slice of apple pie, what do you say?” Dustin nodded and you pointed to a table he could sit at.

On your way to the bathroom, you thanked Donna for her kindness. You locked the door behind you, getting dressed and putting all the accessories that were needed for the workplace. You looked yourself in the mirror, almost disgusted with how you looked. Your hair was a mess, your nose red and your eyes puffy from crying, dark circles had appeared under them and at that moment everything seemed dull. Like nothing mattered.

You tried to put your worries aside as you took a deep breath. Your only hope was to work so you forget all that had happened. Usually that was the only way to clear your mind. But as you opened the bathroom door and saw the new costumers chatting with Donna about ‘The tragedy of Hawkins’, you knew you wouldn’t escape the memories even for a moment.

___

“Bye, Mom.”

You were standing next to the open front door of your house waving goodbye to your mother. When she saw you two last night she hugged you for God knows how long. Today, after you woke up to get ready for school, she had insisted for both of you to stay home. You were more than glad she did so. You dreaded the idea of being surrounded by your classmates at the moment, all of them starring at the girl who hung out with kids, one of them dead.

“Bye, honey. Remember, if you need anything-”

“I’ll call you right away.” you finished her sentence and sent her a smile as she climbed on her car driving away to work.

Your smile fell when you closed the door. You stood there for a moment, your back against the door as you collected yourself, tears threatening to spill from your eyes once again. You shook them away and headed back to the living room, your cold cup of coffee long forgotten as you sat on the couch, your eyes never leaving the TV. You had put on the news to try and find more about Will’s… death. The Byer’s haven’t been answering any of your calls and you’ve been begging to find out how this happened. Especially after all the ‘theories’ you had heard from citizens last night. Some of them even suspected you.

By the end of the night what you had gathered was that humanity is stupid, and you hate everyone.

Just as you took a sip from your coffee, cringing because you forgot it was cold, Dustin came out of his room all dressed up with his pack bag ready at hand.

“Good morning?” you questioned as you watched him run to the kitchen, eat a single piece of bread and position himself before you.

“Come on, we need to get going.”

“What? Go where?” your brows frowned.

“To Mike’s. He says he needs us.” he placed the bag on his shoulders.

“Mike? What could he possibly need you for today?” you thought they’d all need some peace and quiet today.

“I don’t know, but Lucas said it sounded important.” you just looked at him confused. You didn’t feel like going anywhere and you didn’t think it would be good for Dustin either “Come on!” he motioned for you to get going and you put your mug down the coffee table with a loud thud.

“If he wants to talk about the whole ‘finding Will’ thing, I am taking you back home immediately.” you took your jacket from the hanger and locked the front door.

The ride to Mike’s house was short and in no time, you were walking down the staircase to his basement. Lucas was already there, and him, Mike and Eleven were waiting for you two.

“Finally, you’re here.” Mike said with an exaggerated sigh.

“What’s going on?” you said suspiciously, after you placed a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. He was eager to join his friends, but Mike’s look made you wary. You wanted to protect Dustin from any more sorrow.

“Just- Just come and listen, Y/n. Please.” He was begging. He didn’t like to do that. Mike was the kind of kid who has always known what he wanted. Always confident in any conversation he has, even if he was wrong. Sometimes he could be harsh, but he always tried for the best. Even in this situation he was trying to find some sense into this mess. Try to make it better for anyone. Now he was on his last chance and hope, and you couldn’t say no to him even if you tried.

You all sat down around Eleven as you watched her temper with the walkie, trying to find… something. It freaked you out. She wasn’t touching it, trying to search through the channels, no. She just had her eyes closed, like she was focusing every other sense onto the walkie. After a while, the static disappeared for a second and a small voice was heard through it. You couldn’t understand what the person behind the walkie said, and by the looks of your brother and Lucas, they couldn’t either.

“We keep losing the signal, but you heard it, right?” Mike looked at you with hopeful eyes and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Yeah, I heard a baby.” Lucas spoke up.

“What?”

“Mike, you obviously tapped into a baby monitor. It’s probably the Blackburns’ next door.” the boy next to you explained.

“Uh, did that sound like a baby to you? That was Will.”

“Mike…” you sighed. Your heart broke seeing how hard he was trying to help. How he was trying to find a dead person.

“Hey, you don’t understand. He spoke last night. Words! He was singing that weird song he loves. Even El heard him!” he defended himself. You got up from your seat, taking deep breaths, trying to find a way to approach this situation.

“Oh, well, if the weirdo heard him, then I guess-”

“Are you sure you’re on the right channel?” Lucas was interrupted by Dustin, who seemed genuinely interested in this whole thing.

“I don’t think it’s about that. I think, somehow, she’s channeling him.” Mike told him.

“Like- Like Professor X.” Dustin said with enthusiasm and it through you off.

“Stop it! All of you, just stop! Why are doing this to yourselves? Can’t you accept the fact that he’s gone?” your words left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“He’s not gone!” Mike yelled back, standing up to make himself look bigger in front of you.

“Michael! We saw him yesterday! We saw his body! Men pulled him out of the water. I don’t want to even imagine how he…” you stopped, remembering that you are talking to kids. You can’t let the thoughts that keep you awake at night be known “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but if you don’t stop now, it’ll be harder for you to accept it when the funeral happens. So please… For yours and Will’s sake, forget about it.” you asked them with the softest voice you had.

“Y/n… I heard him. I’m not lying. I’m not delusional. You have seen weird things happen the past few days, why can’t you believe this?” Mike looked you straight in the eye.

“Because… Because-” you wanted to believe. Eleven coming into your lives with her supernatural powers the day after what happened couldn’t have been a coincidence, but the facts were staring right back at you. You couldn’t unsee what you saw yesterday…

“Mike, we saw him… You can’t actually believe this.” Lucas said, defending your words. He was always the more realistic one out of the party. His eyes landed on Dustin who made a weird face as if he was disagreeing. You saw it as well and with a quiet nod urged him to speak up.

“I mean… Do you remember when Will fell off his bike and broke his finger? He sounded a lot like that.” he explained his thinking and every power from your body left you. You were lost in your thoughts, not knowing what was happening. You sat down on the couch.

“We saw him!” Lucas almost screamed.

“Maybe it’s his ghost? Maybe he’s haunting us.” Dustin suggested and a scoff left your lips, not actually believing you are having this conversation.

“It’s not his ghost!” Mike raised his voice again.

“How do you know that?” Lucas did the same thing.

“I just do!”

“Then what was in that water?”

“I don’t know! All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive! He’s out there somewhere. All we have to do is find him. You have to trust me.” he looked at you again and you started feeling guilty, like you were letting down Will if you didn’t give it one more chance.

You could still hear the static coming from the walkie as Eleven was continuously trying to find a connection again.

“This isn’t gonna work. We need to get El to a stronger radio.” Mike sighed.

“Mr. Clarke’s Heathkit ham shack.” Dustin smiled at the idea of using it again.

“Yeah. That should work. What do you say?” the boy asked you and Lucas, but his eyes were glued on you, trying to figure out your opinion on this. They couldn’t do this without you. You have always been there. Also, they literally couldn’t do this without you cause you were the older one.

“The Heathkit’s at school. There is no way we’re gonna get the weirdo in there without anyone noticing. I mean… look at her.” Lucas pointed at Eleven. With her buzzed hair and her oversized clothes she really looked a lot different than all the other girls her age.

“Y/n?” you heard Dustin call your name. All the boys were looking at you for any signs of approval. You sighed before you gave in. If they were going to do something stupid, they were gonna do it with you.

“I have some old clothes I could bring for her. We’ll dress her up and she’ll look… normal. We can make it work.”

So that was the plan. You weren’t sure what to expect when you got to the Heathkit, if you would find anything, but you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try. You and Dustin were riding back home to get some clothes and some of your make-up. Mike had suggested to just ‘steal’ everything you needed from Nancy, but you didn’t want to risk any questions coming your way. So, as Dustin was putting half the stuff in his bag and you did the same, the phone rang.

“Whoever it is, they’re lucky they caught us home.” you said and heard Dustin chuckle “Hello?”

“Y/n?” his voice sounded weak.

“Jonathan. Hey… I’ve been trying to get in touch. How are you?” it was a dumb question and you almost hit yourself in the head for asking it, but you were really concerned. It felt like you haven’t talked in ages.

“Not great… Mom just left me alone to organize everything for the funeral. She’s just so-” he stopped himself before he’d say something mean “I really need some help…” your heart broke when he spoke those words.

“Yeah. Yeah! Absolutely. Where are you?” he told you his location and you asked if he could give you half an hour to fulfill a promise you made to Dustin.

“Everything okay?” your brother asked when you got off the phone.

“Yeah, I’ll explain everything later, let’s go.” you took your bags and biked back to the others.

“So, you are leaving us alone?” Mike asked when you explained the new plan you had formed on your way here. You were going to help Eleven with her ‘transformation’, but right after you’d go and find Jonathan.

“You will hardly be alone with two other boys and Eleven.” You told him, teasingly.

“What if we need you?” he kept on persisting.

“I’ll have my walkie and you’ll contact me whenever you need me. But you’re just going to the school so if you are smart and careful, nothing dangerous will happen.” you eyed him, making him promise you that they’ll be careful. He nodded his head and you ruffled his hair. He was ready to whine about it when an excited voice interrupted you.

“Hey, look what we found!” Lucas and Dustin came into Mike’s room. They were searching for more stuff they could use for Eleven’s disguise in Nancy’s room, and they ended up finding a blond wig. You recognized it. Nancy had worn it one time on Halloween when you were kids.

“That’s perfect. Come on, El, I’ll help you get dressed.” you extended your hands towards her. She hesitated at first, but eventually took your hand in hers and you guided her to Nancy’s room.

You sat on your friend’s bed, looking through everything you have, and deciding what would fit and look best on Eleven, while she was taking in the well-lit room. You could understand how she was feeling. Well, not on the same level, but you too had felt intimidated by Nancy’s room once, even jealous over it. She had so many pretty things, everything was mostly in pink. Your younger self felt like entering a princess’ room.

“Hey, how does this look?” you called out for the girl to check the outfit you picked. Her hand grazed over the pink dress, and she nodded “Can you put it on yourself, or would you prefer a little help?”

Eleven examined the dress and looked at you, silently asking for your help. You sent her a sweet smile and helped her try it on. It fit like a glove “You look much better in it than I did at your age.”

She didn’t reply to your comment, but she had a faint smile on her face as she watched herself in the mirror, taking in the image before her. You put some make-up you had brought along on her face, just some blush to put a little color on her face and a coat of lip-gloss. Last but not least, you placed the wig on her head carefully.

“There you go. You look wonderful.” you didn’t expect a response, so you just started placing everything you had used back into you bag.

“Thank you.” her voice was so soft you almost didn’t catch it. But you did. She was looking at you with sincere eyes and you wanted to hug her. You didn’t know what was going on inside that girl’s mind or what she has been gone through or why she has these powers, but from that moment you knew you would do anything to take care of her, just like the kids right outside the door. Just like Will.

You smiled and got up from the bed, taking her hand into yours with ease now. She was trusting you “Let’s go show you off.”

You opened the door and the boys stood straight up, trying to get a glimpse of Eleven “Don’t scare her.” you chuckled at their reaction and opened the door fully, so El could step out.

“Wow. She looks-” your brother wanting to speak, but a entranced Mike cut him off.

“Pretty.” he didn’t realise what he said at first, but after he did and saw all of your reactions to his words, he ‘corrected’ himself quickly “Good. You look pretty good.”

You all went down the stairs and onto your bikes. You were riding together for some minutes, before you had to get separated “Okay, I have to take this turn. I’ll be in range the whole time, alright? I’ll come help you no matter what.”

“Okay!” they all said towards you as you took your turn.

“Don’t do anything stupid!” you yelled back and after a couple minutes you saw Jonathan sitting in one of the benches near the funeral home. You stopped in front of the home and walked to him “Hey.”

He instantly pulled you in for a hug. You hugged him back, staying still until he felt it’s okay to pull back “Thank you, I just-” he looked like he was trying to find the right words to explain himself, but just couldn’t.

“You don’t have to say anything right now…” you eyed the funeral home “Do you want to go in or for a walk to clear you head?”

Jonathan looked at you with relief in his eyes. He should have brought you along from the beginning. He didn’t like the idea of making you more upset with everything that was going on, but you were always such a gentle soul when it came to people needing comfort. Always there to make sure they were okay.

“No, I… I need to get this done. I don’t want his body to suffer more…” he spoke softly and it made the guilt inside you grow.

‘Should I tell him?’ ‘What if it’s nothing after all?’ ‘What if everything we have been suspecting is true and he’s going through this grief for no reason?’

No matter your thoughts or what you gut was telling you, you followed him inside the funeral home where the worker welcomed you in and started showing Jonathan all the options he had. You just walked with them, not making a sound, your thoughts troubling you once again.

The worker was describing a casket to you when Nancy suddenly appeared into the home. You hadn’t seen her ever since yesterday’s events, the memory of her face when she realized what the photos showed still clear in you head. You walked towards her with curious eyes.

Jonathan felt the movement from where you left and glanced at you and Nancy, who were exchanging hello’s “Can you just give me a second?” he asked and walked towards the two of you.

“Hey. Your mom, um… she said you’d be here. I just…” she looked at you hesitantly “Can we talk for a second?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan agreed and Nancy turned and sat on the small bench on the hallway. Jonathan looked at you with a frown before you both followed behind her. You both sat on each of Nancy’s sides, watching her as she looked through her bag, searching for something.

She pulled out one of the photos from yesterday. It was the one of photos Carol had teared apart, but now it was taped back together. The picture was quite dark, but you could clearly see Barbara sitting by the pool, her legs playing with the water.

“That night that you went…” Nancy stopped herself momentarily “That you took this photo, did you see anyone else out there with Barbara?” her eyes switched between you and Jonathan

“Wha-what?” Jonathan’s words stammered with confusion as your brows frowned.

“This. Can you tell me what this is?” her finger pointed at a dark frame far behind Barbara. Your eyes narrowed to take a better look, before Jonathan took the photograph in his hands to examine what she was looking at. To you it looked like darkness, maybe some kind of shadow from the forest behind.

“It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using the wide angle. I don’t know.” Jonathan simply explained and handed the photo back “It’s weird.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?” her eyes landed on you, and you could see despair hiding behind them.

“I wasn’t there.” you told her softly, wanting to explain yourself since everything that happened yesterday “Really. I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what you were apologizing for. For letting it happen? For not telling her once you knew? For not being there to see what she was referring to? You didn’t know.

Her head turned to the right, gaze falling back to Jonathan “No, I didn’t.” he replied to her question “She was there one second and then, um… gone. I figured she bolted.”

The girl beside you looked disappointed. Nancy thought you guys were her only last hope and now everything seems hopeless again “The cops think that she ran away. But they don’t know Barb. And I went back to Steve’s… And I thought I s- saw something. Some… weird man or- I don’t know what it was. I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m… I’m so sorry.” She gathered her stuff and quickly stood up to leave, but her words had intrigued you. Both you and Jonathan.

“What’d he look like?” he was now stood up as well, facing Nancy as her movements stopped.

“What?”

“This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?” you were confused. How did Jonathan know about this? About anomalies?

“I don’t- I don’t know. It was almost like he… he didn’t have a-”

“Didn’t have a face?” Jonathan finished Nancy’s sentence and her curiosity lit up.

“How did you know that?” she asked. You were frozen in your seat.

“It’s all my mother has been saying for the past couple days. That- that a man was inside the walls and that- that Will is speaking to her through lights. I thought it was her anxiety, but-but now…” his voice got quiet after he started thinking about everything that’s been happening.

You couldn’t believe your ears. If Joyce has been having these experiences, maybe you and the kids were right. Maybe there’s still time.

Finally, your legs were able to let you stand up. Your breaths were sharp as you gathered up the courage to speak.

“Did you hear any growling?” you asked, eyes set on Nancy, but before she could say anything, Jonathan turned to see you.

“You know about this too?”

“I-” you debated on what to do. What was the best for now? That’s all you were thinking of. Finally you knew you weren’t the odd one out of this whole mess. You weren’t the only one who has been having weird things happening to them. But still, you couldn’t confront him yet.

You cleared your throat and continued speaking “The night that the town was searching for Will, the boys, they- they wanted to go out and search as well and despite me telling them not to, they went out into the forest to look for him. When I realized, I went out and tried to find them, but the rain was getting stronger and stronger, so much that I didn’t see a raccoon sneak up on me. It caused me to fall, scratching my knee. As I was getting ready to enter the forest and look for them, I heard a sound coming from next to me. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then I heard a growl.” your voice came to a stop for just a second, while you were recalling the moment in your mind remembering your emotions “I froze. I don’t know how, but… I immediately felt as if I was in great danger. The growl was deep, and it didn’t sound like anything I’ve heard before. Nothing happened in the end, but… I haven’t stopped thinking about this moment.”

“Do you think it could be related to Barb?” Nancy asked, hope in her voice.

“Not only to Barb, but after what you said…” you looked at Jonathan carefully “I think it could lead to Will too…” you said it. Well part of it, but you knew that Jonathan was beginning to wonder that too. His eyes were staring at the floor, not daring to look up. You and Nancy shared a look for a moment before Jonathan quickly sniffed his nose and looked up at you with brows furrowed.

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s just- We need to see the picture clearer. Follow me.”

There we were. Heading to the high school’s darkroom in Jonathan’s car to temper with the photograph, all of us wondering about the outcome. We were connected to this unknown creature through different experiences. You were sitting on the passenger’s seat, clutching your bag into your arms. You felt the walkie inside. None of the kids had spoken to you and it got you worried sick. You just hoped they were okay and that they had a lead to your plan.

___

“And you’re…”

You had arrived to the dark room and were sitting in silence, waiting for Jonathan to fix the photo, when Nancy spoke up softly. Her words dragged out, signaling for Jonathan to finish the sentence for her.

“Brightening. Enlarging.” Nancy hummed in response, examining his movements.

“Jonathan, did your mom say anything else? Anything about that thing or- or Will?”

His movements froze for a bit, before continuing on “I’ve told you everything, really. Apart from the wall and the lights, she hasn’t told me anything else.” he answered, looking at you. His eyes looked tired. You can’t even imagine to think how he even feels right now. You wanted to learn more about the lights, but you let it go for now. You didn’t want to confuse him even more.

“How long does it take?” Nancy asked again.

“Not long.”

“Have you been… doing this a while?” but before Jonathan could answer a new voice interrupted you.

“Code red, I repeat, code red.”

Dustin!

Your whole body snapped into action, and you took out the walkie as fast as you could. You lowered the volume, before turning to the two teens, who were already starring at you strangely.

“It’s Dustin. Just some game we’re playing, trying to get his mind off of things.” you came up with a quick excuse, pointing towards the door “I’ll be right back, sorry.” you got out and looked for any sign of students. Most of the students were in their classes at this time of day, so you should be free to talk without someone catching you.

“Hey, I’m here. All okay? Over.” You spoke quietly into the walkie.

“Y/n, Mike was right. We heard him. We heard Will. Over.”

You almost broke into a sob, but you covered your mouth so no one could hear you.

“Are-are you sure? Over.” your voice sounded weak.

“Positive. He’s alive. We’ll tell you all about it when you get to Mike’s. Over and out.”

You smiled and turned off the walkie. You felt like this weight was lifted from your shoulders. Will was alive and you would do anything to find him. No matter the consequences, you would not stop until he was back with his family.

“Hey, Y/n, you need to see this.” Suddenly Nancy called out for you. You turned seeing her by the door. You went inside together and she stopped beside Jonathan, who was waiting for the two of you.

You took small steps towards them and finally stood in front of the table where the picture was laying. It was clearer than before, and brighter. So much that you could now see with no trouble that the thing behind Barbara was no man. It frightened you just as much as its presence had that night.

“That is what I saw at Steve’s house. It’s out there and it’s- it’s-”

“ I think it’s taking them…” Jonathan spoke up. You stood between them, still staring at the photo as they spoke “I thought my mom was crazy cause she said that… that the body we saw today was not Will’s. It couldn’t be. She believes he’s alive.”

“And if he’s alive-” Nancy thought.

“Then Barbara is.” Jonathan agreed with her thinking.

“We need to find them.” you finally told them. You turned around to look at both of them “We need to get them back.”

~~~

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