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snaillamp · 8 months

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Sicktember - day 2

So my assessments are nearly finished and exam season is literally right around the corner, but i have managed to smash out a few days. I really like all the prompts and will do them all, but I'm putting uni first rn. Enjoy as always!

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2. Quest for a Cure

Arin walked through the forest, glancing around the shadowy trees. He was brave, but even he feared the Dead Woods. Many things lived amongst the skeletal trees, human and not, and some even said unnatural creatures walked the cursed ground.

A twig snapped behind Arin, who whirled around, drawing his sword and glancing into the growing dark of the evening. There was nothing there...

Something pricked his the back of his neck, Arin’s hand flying up to his neck and pulling out the dart. He already began to feel woozy as he dropped it into the mud. Turning around, he continued to walk, fat raindrops falling from the dark, purple clouds that vibrated the ground with their thunder. Lightning streaked across the sky and made it easier to see but…

Arin’s stomach dropped.

There was a figure in his path.

His hair stuck to his forehead as he drew his sword, the rain trailing down his skin into his eyes. He wiped them for just a second and when he looked back up, the figure was gone. Holding his sword up, ready to fight, he panted in the rain. The adrenaline was coursing through his body as he stepped into a puddle, his foot sinking into it. Looking down, Arin yanked his foot out, and managed to raise his sword just in time to block the movement hurtling out of the darkness in the corner of his eye. He managed to fend off the person, sending it melting back into the shadows, before another attacked.

Swords flashed as Arin fought them off, grunting as he blocked attack after attack, the rapidly fading light and rain making it hard to see… Something hit him in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the ground. Landing on his back with a thud, Arin could see cloaked figures standing over him, laughing as they discussed what to do with him, one of them pressing their foot hard into his chest, crushing his ribs.

Some wanted to kill him right there, others wanted to keep him and others wanted to use him… Arin gasped as he tried to breathe, winded as he lay in the mud, unable to get up. Right as the bandits had made their decision, a loud thunder clap echoed around them. The very earth seemed to shake as the bandits looked up, the air suddenly still as they heard a squeaking sound. The cloaked figures talked amongst themselves as Arin’s vision started to blur, before they scattered.

The last thing Arin saw was another figure, holding an old, rusted lantern. The flame inside flickered and danced, enchanting Arin as he began feeling light headed. The pressure lifted from his chest, but he was already gone.

The figure watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp with a sigh.

Arin awoke in a soft, comfy bed. He inhaled slowly, smelling pleasant herbs as he opened his eyes. He hadn’t realised that someone was dabbing his head with a damp cloth. Moaning tiredly, he tried to figure out where he was, his body shivering from cold, despite the sound of a fireplace crackling nearby.

“Shhhh… rest. You are badly poisoned.” Arin grunted as he tried to sit up. His chest ached, and looking down he noticed his clothes were gone. There were some bandages wrapped around his neck, across his chest and arms, firm and tight. He grasped at them, looking around for his clothes. He needed to get going, he needed… pain overcame him as he was roughly pushed back with a gnarled, bony hand.

He landed with a gasp against the soft pillows, head spinning. “Stay still. You are not well.” Arin looked over at the figure tending to them. “Who are you…?” He asked, his throat dry and aching. “It does not matter who I am, but what I can do for you. And right now I’m helping, so lie still.”

Arin coughed, listening to the ragged, old sounding voice hum gentle songs. He was so cold, but he was sweating so much, his bandages already so wet. He groaned as a wave of nausea hit him, making everything sway. “Hmm… worse than I thought. Will need more tincture.” The figure left his side, Arin turning his head to take in the tiny cabin he was in.

It was warm and inviting, if not a little messy. Drying herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling like garlands, strange carvings etched into the beams in the ceiling and the frames in the doorway. Even the window ledge was delicately carved with beautiful, curving runes.

There were skin rugs on the floor and skulls and bones scattered around tables everywhere, empty glass bottles and tubes peeking out amongst bowls full of herbs half ground into powders, shelves of books and jars and tubes full of strange liquids, powders and objects.

A large fireplace flickered at the other rend of the cabin, a cauldron hanging over it, bubbling away with something inside spitting up droplets of something. The hunched figure shuffled over to it, stirring it a little before going back to a table, rummaging around and mixing up a potion. They poured it into a long, thin tube, bringing it over Arin. “Drink.”

Arin frowned at the strange smelling liquid in the tube. It was an amber colour, with what looked like tiny fibrous specs floating around in it. “Uhh…”

The figure thrust it at him. “Drink.” They insisted, holding it up to Arin’s parched lips. Before Arin could turn his head, the figure pulled open his mouth, chucking the content of the tube into the back of his throat. Arin cough and spluttered, swallowing the liquid.

“Hey…” He coughed, “What did you do that for…?” The figure pulled back his blankets, exposing his chest, before pulling the bandages free. As they lifted them off Arin, he noticed the pussy, yellow stains on them. Lifting his fingers towards the back of his neck, he tried to feel the extent of the injuries, but the bony hand grabbed it, holding it tightly.

For an elderly hermit, the figure sure had a lot of strength. “Don’t touch, it will get infected. I need to clean it.” They shoved Arin onto his left side, and touched an ice cold cloth to his neck. It sent shivers down Arin's spine and he yelped, smelling the potent scent of a strong herb that burned his nostrils a little. It was a crisp, fresh scent, like the forest itself was being dabbed on his neck.

His back was exposed and pricked as cold liquid dripped over his skin, if he didn't feel cold before, he did now. The figure sat him back up, causing Arin to feel lightheaded again. The last thing he remembered was falling sideways, two strong, bony hands catching him and holding him up…

He awoke in much the same situation as before, bandages reapplied and cloth with warm herbal water being dabbed on his body, except this time it was on his exposed chest and arms.

“You’re awake… Good, good, good, good…” The voice of the figure mumbled, seemingly to itself. “Where am I?” Arin managed to whisper, his tongue feeling fat like a slug in his mouth as his words slurred.

“My home.” The figure replied, looking at Arin.

For the first time, Arin could actually see the features of the figure’s face. It appeared to be a man, with a long, sharp, thin nose arching down his face and two, deep, dark eyes. Thin lips were curled into a gentle smile and tattoos were etched into his old, weathered skin.

A thin, black line trailed down the centre of his forehead, from the top of his hairline to the end of his nose. Under his eyes, a line stretched from the inner corners, diagonally across his cheeks, and stemming from each of those lines, another line trailed down from roughly the middle of the diagonal lines, straight down to the man’s jawline. The markings were exactly symmetrical on each side. The man’s features Arin of an owl, so serene and deadly at the same time, an intensity that shook Arin to his core.

“Who are you…?” He breathed, taking in the man’s sliver hair, pulled back and decorated with delicate braids and beads. Arin swore he could see a feather peeking out over his shoulder.

“Who are you?” The man cooed back, mischievously, his face pulling into a wiry smile. “My name is… Thora.” Arin lied, using his father’s name. He knew better than to give his real name to people in these parts, especially a magician like this. “Thora. Old name, good, strong name. Yes… I am Haynar.” Arin recognised the name, Haynar was a name used by druids to mask their true identities. Laying back in the bed, Arin tensed. Druids were supposed to be almost extinct, their beliefs long forgotten. They only existed as chapters in books and ancient carvings in trees and rocks.

“You know me.” Haynar murmured, grinning. “Not many are educated in the old ways, Thora.” They sat in silence, delirium setting in as Arin’s eyes rolled around in their sockets, looking at figures creeping around in the shadows, at one point, Haynar’s faceactually becoming a beautiful white owl’s. The owl-man blinked slowly at him, Arin getting lost in his bird eyes as he stood and replaced the blankets. “Rest…” He whispered, looking at Arin as he passed out again.

He felt as if he was floating.

It was dark and cold when he awoke again, shooting up from his place in the bed, panting and sweating. “Good. You’re alive.” The voice of the old man, Haynar sounded across the cabin. “You got worse, I feared you might not make it. I am glad to be proven wrong.” Arin’s eyes moved around the cabin, finding Haynar crouched over the fire, his leathery hands throwing a few small logs onto the flames.

“How long have I been here?” Arin whispered, feeling quite breathless. He lay back down in the bed, breathing hard and fast. Each breath he took, despite being larger than the first felt like less and less air. He felt faint as his vision blurred, his eyes growling vacant as he teetered in the brink of passing out. His eyes rolled in his head as the old man came over and placed a hand on his forehead, Arin feeling the touch callouses graze his skin as he fought to keep his eyes open.

He tried sucking in a breath over and over, but nothing was working.

“Calm, you must slow your breathing…” Haynar’s voice was low and haggard. Arin tried to tell him he couldn't, but the now familiar feeling of passing out creeping into his mind… Haynar began to whisper words.

They were strange, unlike any Arin had heard before, echoing in his mind. A warmth washed over him, like a fuzzy cloud of hazy tranquility, warm and soft, it was ecstasy compared to how he had felt minutes before. Arin moaned, unable to stop himself, half out of relief, half out of pleasure, as he shut his eyes. But he didn't pass out.

Haynar stood with his hand on Arin’s forehead, humming a little tune and whispering his words as Arin lay still, feeling the breath come back into him.

He gasped greedily, feeling his chest inflate and deflate with a shaky, thankful breaths. “Breathe in slowly.” Haynar directed him, taking very slow, deep breaths to guide Arin’s own breathing. Arin copied, deep groans leaving him with each breath as he came back to himself. Haynar lifted his hand and the sensation faded as fast as it had appeared, Haynar's whispering now a memory in Arin’s mind.

Arin lay there, blinking and mumbling as the world stopped spinning, but he hadn’t even noticed it had started in the first place.

He nodded slowly, trying to keep his eyes open, despite his body’s determination to roll them back into his head again. He ended up going cross-eyed, head bobbing slightly are he tried to stay awake.

Pain came crashing back down into him, as if a huge boulder had been dropped on his chesy. He groaned, breath shuddering as he blinked, finally able to get a grip on reality. Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened them again and looked at Haynar’s leathery, wrinkled face.

“…nnh… what’s happening to me….?” He asked, tired and cold.

“You are fighting off the Ganeri bandit’s poison, it is potent and you were already weak from travel. Rest for a few days, then continue on your journey.”

Arin sighed, “How long have I been here?” He asked again. “A few days, the fourth is about the end. You awoke on the third night twice and just now. You are too weak to move, so don’t bother trying.” He muttered, turning around and fiddling with some herbs hanging from the ceiling. He picked some leaves, taking them to the fire where he opened that cauldron and stirred it, tossing the leaves in. Grabbing a spoon from a table, Haynar brought it over to Arin and pulled up a chair. Holding out a spoon he had got from somewhere, he picked up some of the thick soup.

“No thank you, I can’t ask that of you.” Arin refused, trying to sit. He looked down, realising why he felt so cold. His chest was now completely bare, no bandages or anything. His hand danced to the back of his neck, where he felt the remnants of a flaking scab. Haynar must have seen the flicker of confusion on his face, because he laughed, Arin noticing his mouth containing only a few teeth. “My magic is strong, it will heal you fast, now eat, you need strength if you will fight this.”

Arin obeyed, eating the soup that Haynar fed him. It tasted nice, salty, slightly sweet and full of different herbs and spices, mostly ones Arin didn’t recognise. “So what is a fine, young warrior doing wandering around and getting shot by Ganderi?”

Arin lay back his shoulders against the lowest part of the bed's headboard, sighing. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling and wincing, a tingling cold crawling up his body. “Neughhn… I…” He tried to speak but the cold overcame him, sending shivers down his spine. Hie eyes grew heavy as he blinked slowly. Haynar sat him up further, lifting him with ease despite his appearance.

“Mmmn…” Arin squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the cold to leave him. “My village… The water has become corrupted. I was told… Agh…” He winced as he took in a breath, his chest hurting. “Hmm, your ribs are still delicate, take your time.” Haynar said, placing a hand on Arin’s bare chest. He hadn’t realised how warm the druid’s hands felt until now.

“Our water… it’s corrupted with sickness. I was told that hidden in this forest… there’s a cure… AGH!” Sitting was proving to be too painful, so Arin slid himself back down. He took a moment to recover as Haynar fed him more soup, before continuing. “They say there’s a cure in this forest, something called The Eye. It is said to cure any disease or affliction and lift any curse or spell… I am searching for it, so that we may live through winter. We can't water our crops and our wells are toxic, may are ill and some have even died, mostly elders and young children…” Arin looked sad, remembering helping his ailing father dig the graves for the people who had been lost.

Haynar nodded, looking somber. “Unfortunate that such a noble quest has been so savagely interrupted.” He looked at Arin with a glint in his eye. “Hm, quite a shame.” He chucked standing and placing the now empty bowl on a stack of other bowls stacked haphazardly.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where The Eye is?” Arin asked, sitting again and leaning forward hopefully. Haynar might be his only chance to find it and save everyone he could. Haynar looked over his shoulder and pursed his lips. “Heh, there is no Eye, never has been. The Eye is merely a myth made up by desperate people to hold out hope until an inevitable demise. They use it to pretend that the end will never come, but it always does.” Arin’s heart dropped as his shoulders drooped.

“Hm, I do know of some cures, but it will come at a price.” Arin looked up, hope foolishly renewed, despite his knowing that a deal like this with a druid was dangerous. He chose his words next carefully. “What do you want?” Haynar turned, laughing maniacally, shuffling over to Arin. “Prove to me that you deserve my help.” The druid smiled, tattoos bending as he smiled his more gap than tooth grin.

“How do I do that?” Arin whispered, confused. “Easy, I help good, deserving and just people. Prove to me you are good, deserving and just. I am old, when you are well, stay a few days, help me prepare for the winter approaching.” Arin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. That didn't sound so bad.

“Fine, it’s a deal.” They shook on it, Arin finally giving in to his aching body’s demands and falling back into the soft bed.

Haynar chuckled softly, tucking him in as he rolled onto his side and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

The gentle rays of warm, golden sun woke Arin in the morning. He grunted, enjoying the warm light on his exposed shoulders. Pulling the sheets down a little, he let the light dance across his chest, noticing that his ribs felt much better. He lay ther, eyes shut, soaking in the sun for a while, the cabin silent.

Just as he was dozing off, the cabin door was opened, before Haynar trudged in, letting it slam shut behind him. Arin jerked in shock, rolling over and looking around. Haynar smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I suppose it is time you got up though.” Arin rubbed his face tiredly, pushing himself up and shining his legs over the bed. He looked at his pants, the only thing Haynar had left on him, stained with mud and blood. He took a moment, blinking slowly as the world spun around him a little. “Take your time, the day is young.” Haynar mumbled from across the cabin, rummaging through a basket.

Arin stood, wobbling a little before steadying himself, then taking some steps. His feet hurt from the days of walking he had done, his best letter boots long worn out. Haynar finished rummaging, picking up a piece of cloth and throwing it at Arin. It hit him squarely in the chest, before he caught it, his shirt that he had been wearing before the attack. It was clean and soft, smelling pleasantly of wildflowers. Gingerly shrugging it on, Arin pulled it down his torso, the fabric resting loosely around his frame. He had lost weight under the care of the druid.

Running his hand through his hair, he smiled at Haynar who pulled out his socks and boots from the same place. “Put these on, then meet me outside.” The druid ordered, handing Arin his things. The man glanced around, hoping to find his sword, but he couldn’t see it.

He put on the rest of his clothes before following Haynar outside. The man stood by a large barrel of potatoes beside a wooden stool, a knife embedded in it. Haynar moved the stool down in the sun and yanked out the knife, handing it to Arin.

“Sit, peel my potatoes so I can pickle them. The sun will do you some good, too.” The druid directed, pointing at the large barrel. Arin sighed, this would take all day, but he nodded, taking a seat and picking a potato up.

After a couple of potatoes were peeled, Haynar brought over a small basket. “Put them in here, then carry them over to me, I’ll be in that shack over there.” He pointed to a small, wooden shack, barely standing as it leaned heavily to one side.

It looked like one slight breeze would send it tumbling over. Heavy moss dangled down from the roof, making it bend in the middle, and seemly causing the building to sink into the ground.

Arin nodded, peeling more potatoes. As he looked at the mountain of them in the barrel. He wondered where the druid had managed to get so many, there were enough here to feed him for ages, you could easily give everyone in his small village at least two…

He glanced over at the smaller basket, breaking his train of thought.

It was full.

Grunting, Arin pushed up from the stool and picked up the basket. It was heavier than he thought, though he was probably weakened from the whole fighting off a deadly poison thing. Carrying the basket over to the shed, Arin dropped it on the ground, huffing and puffing. That journey should have been easy for him to do… He hated being so weak.

Shoving the door open, he felt the rusted hinges grind as they turned, the door squeaking loudly. Haynar was in the behind a table that took up most of the shed, laying out many, many glass jars. The table was so big the druid had to cram himself between the slanting wall and the edge of the table to even move around it. Ducking under the low doorframe, Arin carried the basket in.

Haynar eyed the potatoes and nodded, “Beautiful work Thora. Just pour them in there.” He pointed at a new barrel, shoved in the corner of the shack. Arin complied, pouring his basket of potatoes into the barrel and going back out to continue peeling.

They repeated the process all day, until Arin’s back and wrists ached from sitting and working all day. He was tired of peeling, carrying the heavy loads to the shack and coming back to repeat it all again. The sun was nice though, warming him up until it began to sink low in the sky. The last of the potatoes were peeled and Arin dragged them to the shack, leaving them in the barrel for Haynar. As he left, he looked at the pile of potatoes peelings almost as high as his knees. “Uh, Haynar, what do you want me to do with the peelings?”

Haynar laughed. “Ah, just put them in the barrel you just emptied, I will deal with them later. Go inside, you have had a long day.” Arin nodded, picking up every last scrap of potato peeling before dragging his feet inside.

He stumbled through the door and walked across the cabin in a couple of seconds, collapsing face first into the small bed. He groaned tiredly, kicking off his boots and pulling off his sweat stained shirt, enjoying the cool breeze flowing through the open door and dancing across his back.

He awoke to the sound of bubbling, a pleasant aroma of herbs and spices filling the cabin. Moaning, he sat up, wiping a little bit of drool from his face. Blinking slowly, he saw Haynar hunched over the pot of whatever it was he was cooking, stirring vigoursly. The druid turned around at the sound of Arin waking up and smiled.

“Ah, you woke up just in time for dinner!” He laughed, grabbing a large spoon and some bowls from a nearby table and filling them with soup. There were chunks of fresh potato in them… “Potato soup, I hope you’re not sick of looking at them.” Haynar chuckled at his own joke, handing a bowl to Arin.

They ate in comfortable silence, Arin enjoying the the way the slightly salted potato melted on his tongue. When he looked down at his bowl, he had eaten everything. He hadn't even noticed... Sitting back on the bed and sighing, he rubbed his bare chest, it didn't hurt as much as it had yesterday. He coughed a little when his hand brushed over a still slightly delicate rib, making him wince a tiny bit.

“Rest.” Haynar spoke, voice low and rasping. He put his hands on Arin’s chest and pushed him back into the bed, tucking him in. “I need more help tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

Arin nodded, eyes already shut. ~~ The day was a little cloudier when Arin awoke the next day. He coughed a little, sliding out of bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor from yesterday. It smelled a bit, but he’d rather wear a smelly shirt than none at all, especially since it looked like it might rain later. Haynar had other ideas.

“No! Take that off, just wait.” The druid spoke up from across the room, making Arin jump. He frowned, pulling his arms out of the shirt and holding it in his lap. “Bring it here.” The druid ordered, Arin obeying. “You look nice and strong, hmm? Help me carry this basket to the river, we will wash clothes today. Maybe you can also wash yourself.” The old man shot Arin a dirty look, before bursting into laughter.

“Don’t look so alarmed, I don’t mind. I live in a forest, child. You think I don’t stink?” He continued, howling with glee as he waddled out the door, Arin picking up the heavy basket and following him outside.

They went down a small path behind the cabin and down to the river. It was more of a narrow stream, but it looked quite deep. “Just there is fine.” The man pointed at a large, flat stone by the stream. “Just sit there, I’ll be back with some things.” Arin nodded, shivering a little as a little breeze whipped around him.

His skin prickled as the cold bit it. Rubbing his arms with his hands, he looked longingly at the shirt he had thrown on top of the pile, but he knew better than to mess with the druid. If he said to do something, he meant it exactly like he wanted, Arin was sure.

The man came back, holding a small basket full of bottles of… stuff. He placed it beside Arin, before sitting cross-legged beside him.

“You soak the clothes, I’ll clean them.” The druid directed, rummaging in the basket. He pulled out a large bottle full of a thick, clear liquid, small flowers suspended inside it. They were tiny, brightly coloured and honestly, beautiful. Arin blinked, tearing his eyes away from the bottle and grabbed the clothes. He dunked them into the water, his eyebrows jumping as his hands plunged into the icy stream. Haynar laughed again. “Bit cold, eh? No matter, we won’t be long.”

Arin continued to wash the clothes, his hands going numb from the cold. Haynar poured the liquid on them and scrubbing them with his hands, before washing off the suds with the stream. Then he lay them on the grass, letting them dry.

The sun came out at one point, warming Arin a little, but soon it was behind the clouds again. Arin's ribs began to ache from hunching over the water, and he moaned softly, rubbing them occasionally when they twinged. Haynar shot him a look every time he did it, his eyes trailing Arin’s body.

He was right though, after 20 minutes or so, they had finished the basket of clothes, which turned out to be mostly Arin’s clothes from his travels. When Arin finished, he walked over to his shirt, touching it. It was slightly damp still, but he’d rather let it dry on him than be in this air any longer.

“Thora. You should bathe.” Haynar pointed at the stream, the water flowing fast by them.

Arin’s facial expression must have said it all, because the druid made a face that seemed to be saying “Just do as I say.”

Arin sighed, so the druid was a pervert then. Walking over to the water, he caught some in his hand and held it out to the druid. “Look, it’s freezing, if I swim in that, I’ll get sick. I’m sorry but no. I’m already cold enough as it is.” He gestured at his half naked form.

“Just get in.” The druid rolled his eyes, turning around. “I’ll get you something warm to wrap yourself in after, how about that?” Arin squinted at Haynar, confused. The druid couldn’t be serious, he wasn’t going to make him bathe in that water?

“Just do it, you’ll thank me later.” The druid called as he wandered up the hill. Arin huffed in frustration, before making sure the druid was far from sight.

When he slipped into the water, he winced. It was ice cold. The stream was quite narrow, Arin could probably have been able to touch the other side with his toes if he lay on his back and held on to the bank with his hands. He wasn’t even waist deep yet, but his feet were already numb. With a sigh, he leaned forward, pushing out into the water, before dunking his head under. It seemed to help his body acclimatise to the temperature, because he was able to at least swim in the water, but he could already feel his teeth chattering.

His body was completely submerged, the tops of his shoulders peaking out of the water as he bobbed up and down. Deciding to get it over with quickly, Arin began to rub his body down, cleaning what he could before he swam back to shore.

The rock he had sat to to clean the clothes suddenly felt hot to the touch as he pulled himself up and out of the water. Lying face down on it Arin closed his eyes, thankful for the warmth soaking into his skin.

He felt a thick blanket land on top of him covering him up and trapping more heat. Grabbing it with shaking blue fingers, Arin pulled the soft, heavy fabric around him, huddling in a ball to try and warm up. He looked up at a splash, seeing Haynar dive happily into the river. The old man surfaced, his hair hanging down limply from his head, heavy with water. He flicked his hair out of his face and laughed. “Great, isn’t it?”

Arin scowled, curling up even more to make his point. “N-n-n-o… It was f-f-f-fr-r-reez-z-z-ing…” He shook, huddling the blanket around him. He realised that it wasn’t wet, despite the fact it was drying him.

The druid smiled, shanking his head and diving deep, down into the stream. “How deep is that thing?” Arin wondered aloud. The druid was under the water for a while and Arin was starting to think he had drowned. Then suddenly he surfaced, holding up a large fish triumphantly.

“How’s that for a dinner, huh?!” He called out, swimming back to the rock that Arin was huddled on. Haynar’s body was covered in tattoos, his old chest dotted with lines and swirls, his stomach with a beautiful pattern curling around to his waist and his legs adorned with bands of shapes and sigils. The man’s body was a canvas that Arin quickly looked away from as he pulled himself out of the stream. The druid lay the flailing fish on the rock, placing a hand on its' body and hushing it. He whispered some words to it, that only the fish could understand, because after a few seconds its gills went still and its' tail stopped flapping.

It lay there, limp and dead as Haynar stood up, grabbing his own blanket from beside Arin and pulling it over himself. “You go inside, I’ll clean up here.” The druid smiled, waving Arin away. “But what about my clo-”

“Shh, I’ll deal with that. Your shirt should be dry. Go inside and rest, you’ll need it.” Arin shook his head, standing on his shaking, cold legs, his body shivering as his teeth clacked together. He went over to his shirt laying on the grass, now dry and… warm? Looking at the sun, or the small beam of light behind the clouds, Arin knew it wasn’t enough to have dried the clothes that fast and warm them up.

Wrapping the blanket around his waist, Arin picked up his shirt and slid it on. It was amazing, being enveloped in the warm fabric. He felt the warmth sink into his bones as he walked, enjoying the smell of the wild flowers that wafted from the clean fabric.

When he re-entered the cabin, he crawled under the sheets of the bed, huddling under the layers of blankets. After 10 minutes or so, his teeth finally stopped chattering and his shivering ceased.

Haynar came back, thankfully wearing clothes, with the rest of the washing. He brought Arin's pants back to him, folding them quickly and placing them at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, what’s happened with you?” He asked curiously, Arin looking at him in annoyance. “You made me swim in a freezing cold creek!” He flashed an angry glare at the old man before curling back up under the blankets. He was finally warm, he wasn’t going to remove these blankets for anything right now.

“Oh shhh,” The druid smirked, shaking his head. He patted Arin’s head before muttering. “You’ll see…” he dumped the fish on the table and began to prepare it with a large, glinting knife, the steady sounds making Arin feel sleepy.

He blinked hard, forcing his eyes open. With an annoyed sigh, he sat up and got dressed properly, impressed that the pants were also still warm, as if they had been sitting in the summer heat all day. He looked around the dim cabin as he fixed himself up, securing his pants and shuffling over to the fire. It seemed to always be alight, crackling softly.

As he sat down, he winced, preparing for his ribs to hurt again, but they didn’t. He blinked in surprise, massaging his chest, feeling for anywhere that hurt, but nothing did. The druid patted him on the shoulder, causing him to jump. The man was silent, like an owl, creeping up behind him. “That stream is called Meyatha.” The druid explained. “I was feeding you the water, but you really needed a swim in it.” Arin looked at the old man, who stared wistfully into the fire.

“Meyatha is sacred, the waters are powerful. My kind have bathed in it for centuries.” Haynar reached a wrinkled hand into the flames, picking up a burning log with his bare hands and shoving it further into the flames. Arin looked at him as he did it, but when the druid removed his hand, there were no burns. Haynar didn’t seem to acknowledge the fact there weren't any, instead groaning as he pushed himself up and grabbed the fresh fish he had prepared.

Soon the creamy flesh was frying on a flat pan, sitting comfortably by the flames.

Arin ate thankfully, the warm meal filling him up and warming his insides. “Tomorrow, you will help me once more, then I will help you with your problem.”

Arin nodded, getting up and going to bed. However, he had no intentions of falling asleep. He tucked himself in, getting comfy and shut his eyes, listening as the druid hummed and tottered about the cabin, clinking tubes and glasses together, and grinding something at some point with his tools.

Arin cracked an eye open, watching the druid carefully. At one point the old man looked up at Arin, cocking his head curiously. Arin remained dead still, keeping his breathing deep and slow. Haynar pouted before going back to his work, humming a little tune. He would occasionally stop and glance at Arin, eyeing him suspiciously, before returning to his work. At one point, Arin tried to sell it more, groaning softly and sighing, letting his body go limp. He watched as Haynar looked over at him and smiled.

“You are a tired one, hmm?” He murmured, going over to Arin. “I only hope it is not too late for you… You are a good soul.” He put a hand on Arin’s head, feeling his temperature before adjusting the blankets. “I’m glad I was watching you. Those bandits were not going to let you live. I can only hope that you will have a safe return to your village.” They stroked Arin’s head, it felt nice. Arin moved and mumbled, opening his eyes and looking at Haynar, who quickly removed it.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you, go back to sleep.” He whispered, stroking Arin’s head again. Soon Arin was actually asleep, snoring softly. Haynar smirked. “Sleep well little one.”

Arin woke with a start to an empty cabin. The fire was low and the room was drenched in darkness. It was raining hard, a large thunder clap sounding. That must have been what woke him. Looking around for Haynar, he couldn’t see him anywhere. Sitting up as lightning flashed, the cabin was illuminated for a second. Haynar was nowhere to be found. Standing, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his thick, warm cloak.

Looking around in the flashes of lightning, he watched for the glint of his sword. He couldn’t see it anywhere, until he checked under the bed.

It was there, pushed toward the back of the bed. Grabbing it, he secured it around his waist, walking toward the door. Walking out into the wind and rain, looking around for Haynar. He squinted out into the dark looking for anything, but he couldn’t see him.

“Come inside, you’ll catch a cold.” Haynar’s voice broke through the thunder behind him. Whirling around, Arin saw the old druid standing in the doorway, holding the door open, the fire now raging and casting a warm, golden glow on the walls. Arin stumbled back inside, shedding his clothes and weapon. Once he was back inside, Haynar put a firm hand on his back and guided him back to bed, “I couldn’t find you…” Arin mumbled. “Rest, I merely went outside for more firewood.” Haynar murmured, tucking Arin in. “You are still injured, Thora. Rest.” Arin nodded, letting his eyes slide shut. He was so… so… tired…

That morning, he felt sluggish waking up. His body felt better than it had in days, but it was heavy, like it was made of lead. Lifting his head, it felt like it was stuffed full of mud.

Haynar was sitting by the fire, adjusting the logs with his bare hands, as usual. Arin must have groaned as he sat up, because the man turned around and looked at him. “You slept in today. Are you feeling alright? Perhaps you should rest and work tomorrow.” Arin shook his head, causing the world to spin a little. He blinked as it stopped, pushing out of bed and swaying a little, he had to work so he could get back to his village, he had been gone too long already.

Haynar sighed, seemingly reading his mind, before he grunted, easing up from the fire and mixing up a serum with his herbs and oils. He handed a pleasant smelling liquid in a mug to Arin. “This should get you through the day.” He patted Arin on the shoulder, before leaving. Arin took a sip of the drink before retching. It might smell nice, but it tasted like sewage. Forcing the drink down, Arin gasped for air, trying to rid the taste from his mouth before stumbling outside.

Haynar was standing beside some logs. “Oh no…” Arin mumbled walking over.

“Cut these up for me. Nice, manageable pieces if possible, then carry them over to my pile. It’s behind the house, you can’t miss it.”

Arin sighed, nodding and picking up an axe that was leaning beside a log.

“It's sharp, be careful.” Haynar added, before shuffling back inside. He came out with a large book and sat in a sunny patch of grass. It was still a cloudy day, but at least there was some sun.

Arin set up the wood on a chopping block and swung the axe, grunting as it came down. He split the wood clean in two, the axe the sharpest he’d ever used. “Woah…” He murmured looking at the blade. It looked old and rusted, but it was definitely sharp. Chopping up the wood, he soon had a small pile that he picked up and carried around to the stock at the back of the cabin. He found a little nook for the wood and began to stack the fresh logs. There weren’t many pieces of wood left, so it was just as well Arin was doing this for the old man.

He wouldn’t be able to get through the winter otherwise.

When he came back around, Haynar was sitting, hunched over the book, trailing his fingers trailing over the pages. ‘Course you’re just making me do all your chores so you can read…’ Arin thought, rolling his eyes and returning to the wood cutting. He did have to admit, he felt a little better after the drink, but occasionally a chill would dance down his spine. After a couple of hours of chopping, he was almost done and the stock pile was nearly full.

Arin sighed as he lay down the axe for a minute, his arms feeling like they were about to drop out of his shoulders, his back ached from the constant swinging. He walked over to a patch of sun and collapsed in it, face first into the grass. The warm light on his back made him smile as he heard Haynar chuckle and stand up, shuffling away. He returned a few minutes later with some bread and a pot of jam. “Here, you should eat.” The druid said, thrusting the food at Arin, who raised his head from the ground. Sitting up slowly, Arin ate the food thankfully, enjoying the tart taste of the jam on the bread.

“Thank you.” He smiled softly as the druid ripped a chunk of bread off for himself. “You’re welcome young Thora.”

Arin continued chopping until the pile was finished. He was panting hard by the end of it, sweat staining his shirt. Pulling it off, he fanned himself with it, before wiping his face. The world swayed as it went blurry for a second and Haynar looked up, frowning as he watched the young man sway.

“Are you alright? Why don’t you let me move the wood? You can rest, you’ve done more than enough.” Arin shook his head, grabbing the wood he had just finished cutting and carrying it around the cabin. He was going to finish this damn job himself, or everything would be for nothing. When he finally moved back around the cabin, he saw Haynar picking up the book and taking it inside.

The ground seems to be unsteady beneath him as he felt the blood drain from his face, and he collapsed with a sigh, landing heavily on the ground.

Haynar heard a strangled sigh, rushing outside just in time to see the man hit the ground. He didn’t move, laying limp in the grass, sweat pouring off his body. Haynar ran over, rolling the man and gasped. His face was ashen and his skin was burning hot. “The poison… It has taken hold again.”

Dragging the traveller’s heavy, sagging body inside he rushed around mixing concoctions of river water and herbs. He whispered incantations gently, humbly asking the mixtures to cooperate as he created them.

Thora groaned and opened his eyes slightly at one point, only for them to roll back almost instantly as his body went still. His breaths were uneven as he lay there in the bed, gasping for air. Haynar brought a thick oil over to him, and scooped a large glob onto the man’s chest, massaging it into the skin. “I hoped it would not come to this remedy, but it appears you had a particularly potent dose.” Haynar explained to the unconscious man. The oil smelled strongly of mint, but Haynar would rather use it now than later, he knew that it was going to feel like he had set Thora on fire.

Arin moaned as he smelled a strong scent, burning his nostrils. He opened his eyes, his mouth feeling as dry as a desert as he tried to speak. “Uhhhnn…” Was all he could manage. “I am sorry,” Haynar said as he rubbed the thick oil onto the man’s chest. “I should have made you wait… The bandits must be using a stronger concotion of poison… I am sorry... This will hurt so much…” All Arin could hear was a buzz as he tired to keep his eyes open, vaguely aware of a tingling sensation on his chest. All of a sudden, his eyes grew wide as he screamed, arching his back in pain as the sensation of a white hot knife pieced his chest. He heard Haynar start to hum as he gasped for air, that strange, pleasurable sensation washing over him again. He moaned breathlessly, trying to understand the world, colours and shapes spinning in front of his eyes and loud, strange singing filling his head.

Rainbow streams of light filled his vision, blinding and overwhelming as he passed out with a cry.

Haynar listened to the strangled cries of the man cut off suddenly. He grabbed a poultice from the nearest table, soaking it in water from the stream, and dabbing it on Thora’s forehead.

He hummed his spells, praying that it would work. The poor man’s breaths grew more and more strained, his chest fighting to suck in air. Haynar desperately tried everything, throwing all that he could at the man… But he drew a final, wavering breath, before sighing and going still.

He didn’t take another.

“No, no, no…” Haynar muttered, shaking Thora hard. His skin was even more grey, but now he was ice cold. Haynar felt his insides burn in a rage as his face began to contort, feathers emerging from his skin as he felt his form shift. He placed a yellow, clawed hand, much like that of an owl foot on the man’s chest. Letting his claws pierce the skin, blood leaked from Thora’s skin as Haynar spoke the ancient language of his kin. He called the young man’s spirit back to him, gripping his chest hard, feeling the skin part as he sliced it with his knife like claws.

He could feel the heart beat in the man's chest, faint but there… He could feel the spirit, it was fighting to stay, he could save this man…

Arin’s eyes shot open, and he gasped, throwing his head back and sucking in as much air as he could. He wailed in pain, still feeling the burn of the oil Haynar had used on his chest. He felt thick, sharp claws slide out from inside him, making his breath hitch as the pain washed over him again.

“I apologise…” Haynar whispered, collapsing to the ground. He forced himself up again, going over to a shelf and scrabbling around with his clawed hands. He found a bottle, yanking the cork off the top and chugged it, sighing as he felt the strange turning in his stomach settle. He shouldn’t have turned so fast. It usually took several minutes.

Grabbing some bandages, he walked over to Arin, who had pushed himself into his elbows and was looking at his bloody chest in confusion.

Haynar helped Arin sit up as he bandaged his chest. Arin was looking at his owl body in horror. “Do not fear, I am still me.” The owl faced man murmured, long, clawed hands gently wrapping Arin's chest, blood stains blooming against the white cloth. Arin let his head hang as he silently slouched, letting the druid do his work. He mumbled tiny little mews of pain every time the bandages tightened around a wound.

Haynar lay Arin down, massaging his chest to ease the pain he was in. He blinked slowly, coming back to himself as he lay there. “What… are you…?” He breathed trying to comprehend the owl man standing in front of him.

“It seems we both have secrets to share… Rest, I will tend to you tonight, you should be well by dawn if I get to work.” Arin was already dozing off as Haynar grabbed more medicines. His magic had restored the man’s life, but he was still sick. The poison was still in his system, he had to get it out, the only way he knew how.

Arin awoke with a groan, his arms feeling strange. He turned his head, looking at them, watching as Haynar picked up fat, black, slimy leeches and put them back in a large jar full of murky water.

“Huh…?” He mumbled not understanding. “I had to use these to get the last of the poison from your system.” The owl man said flatly, it was hard to talk with a beak.

“Why are you… a bird…? Am I… hallucinating?” Arin asked sleepily. “No, this is merely my… other half. My name is not actually Haynar, as you probably knew… It is Hewoo.”

Arin snorted. “Like an owl call…” The bird man nodded, blinking with his black, owl eyes slowly. “Yes. Druids are not… particularly creative when it comes to names.” He explained, picking off another leech with his claws. “Well… My name's not Thora… It’s my father’s name…” Arin mumbled, feeling his body wake up more and more with each leech removed. “I know.” Hewoo’s voice whistled as he spoke, much like an owl's hoot.

“It is wise to hide your true identity from strangers.” The druid spoke again. “Yes… But… my name is… Arin.” Arin sighed as the final leech was peeled off his arms. Hewoo began to bandage them, and Arin looked at his bandaged chest.

“So what did you do?” He asked curiously. “Well, I used a very old spell, I do apologise for the uh… lacerations I caused.” Hewoo lifted a hand, flexing the clawed fingers. It was scaly and yellow, like that of a raptor, with three large fingers and a huge, black claw on the end of each one. “The spell brought out this form, but that usually happens with ancient magic.” They looked at Arin, who sat up, looking at his bandaged body. He realised his legs and stomach were also bandaged up.

“How many leeches did you use?” He asked, amused. “Many. Most of my jars in fact. They should be fine however. Poison doesn't affect them like it does people.” The druid spoke, helping Arin swing his legs over the bed. “You may be shaky from the blood loss, but by the way you’re acting, I’d say the poison has left your system.”

The owl man walked Arin over to a table and sat him in front of a book. “Now, I’ve been reading up on corrupted water supplies, does any of this sound familiar?” He asked the man, who squinted at the words. He couldn’t read that well, only enough to read some of the words, but he didn't know what they meant.

“I don’t know what this says.” He looked up at the druid who cocked his head, blinking each eye individually. “No matter, I will read it aloud.” The druid learned in close and pointed with his claw at the words.

He read aloud, guiding Arin’s eyes with his finger.

“Metherolisi. A corruption of the water supply, more common in large settlements, that results in the death of its inhabitants. The water goes foul, eventually turning black and thick, as if it is mud.”

“Wait that. That sounds like it.” Arin looked up at the Hewoo. “Hmm…” The owl druid looked concerned. He read further. “There is no cure for Metherolisi…” Arin’s shoulders drooped. “So that’s it? We are doomed?” His bottom lip quivered, tears brimming in his eyes.

“No. There is something I can do for you. This book is full of human knowledge, it does not know the knowledge of my kind.” Arin watched in dismay as Hewoo pulled an empty jar off a shelf. “What do you mean? The only thing I can do is bring back The Eye, and that doesn’t exist!” He stood, banging the table as he yelled.

Hewoo chucked, blinking slowly.

“Well, I lied. I wanted you to stay and heal, I knew if I told you where it was you would want to leave, and in your state, you wouldn’t have made it home.” Arin’ chest heaved as he sank back down, wiping tears from his face. “Wait- What do you mean?” Hewoo opened the jar, then looked at Arin.

“Well, The Eye… It is real, it exists. It is here.” Hewoo’s claws reached up to his right eye, scooping it out of his head. He placed it in the jar with a soft ’plunk’, before sealing it shut. He wrapped it up in a cloth, and packed it away in Arin’s things, looking out the window, into the night. “Rest tonight, I will escort you you the edge of the forest tomorrow. You will be safe under my watch.” Arin nodded, easing up from the chair and walking back to the bed. He sighed, lying down and sinking into the soft sheets.

He was roused at the crack of dawn by Hewoo, who handed him his clothes. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he yawned and stretched, looking at the clothes by the bed. “Hurry, get ready. We need to leave soon.” Hewoo whispered. He was now more human looking, with the exception that he now wore an eye patch.

Arin hurried as he threw on his clothes, itching some of the bandages as he did so. Soon he and the old man were walking down a small, lonely path in the dawn mist. Hewoo was carrying a staff with a lantern on the end, a sound that made a familiar squeak.

So it had been Hewoo who had fended off the bandits.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Hewoo stopped suddenly. “This is the place where I can go no further. Travel fast, and by day, Arin. When you reach your village, drop The Eye into the main well and the corruption should lift in a few days.”

Arin nodded, “Thank you, for everything.” The druid nodded back, turning and disappearing into the mist. Within seconds, he was gone, as if he had flown away silently like an owl.

After two days of travel, Arin finally made it home. His heart sank as he looked at the extra graves outside the village, all names he knew well. He walked through the silent houses and pulled out his jar, revealing a shining, black orb, an eye, inside. He carefully lifted it from the jar and dropped it into the well. A small ’ploop’ echoed from the bottom of the well as Arin looked down into it.

The smell of rotting flesh began to emanate from the water as it began to boil and bubble. With a puff of azure smoke, the smell disappeared and Arin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

Turning towards home, he finally trudged through the door, his parents descending on him and pulling him into their arms tightly. They sobbed into his chest, thinking their son had been killed on his quest. Arin decided not to tell them he nearly had been.

On the third day after his return, Arin went to the well and pulled up a bucket of water. It was crystal clear. Tasting it, he cried out, villagers rushing to see what was wrong.

“The water!” He cried out, showing the bucket to everyone, “It is cured!” The village erupted into cheers, and cries of relief. That night they all feasted, everyone sharing what they had and drinking their fill.

All Arin could do is look up at the sky.

In the trees beyond the village, a one eyed owl perched on a branch, before taking flight, disappearing as if it was the wind itself.

~masterlist~

#whump #sickfic #poison whump #caretaker #sicktember 2023 #snaillamp #original post #whump writing #whumpblr #whump oc

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rainpebble3 · 1 year

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Stressed out Sunday

AKA SOS.

So, I’m feeling quite stressed, and feeling very sorry for myself, so I decided to jump back into my oldest fic, the one that started my monstruously huge stories. I can’t describe how happy I felt reading about my little brat, irritating her lecturer at the Arcane University. Seeing as I’m over 50k into book 3 of that series, I think I’ll share the one that started it all.

This story can be found on AO3 and is called:

The Flames of Justice

Before she was the Dragonborn, she was Ailith Copperwing. An overachieving mage with a talent for embarassing her teachers.

A moment of carelessness throws her into the Imperial City Prison at 15 years old and face to face with a savage, locked up for public disturbances and wild drunken behaviour. Torban Thrice-Banished believes he is untouchable and confesses to murder while clamping his bloody hands around Ailith's neck. Ailith is terrified and appalled that he can confess to hideous crimes knowing he'll be unpunished. With the loving support of her parents, Ailith begins her journey to find power and enough of it to finally get Thrice-Banished put behind bars for good.

As well as her parents, Ailith quickly forms bonds within the Fighter's Guild and with the mysterious Khajiit, Theranni. He is equally drawn to Ailith and pledges to help her hunt down the evasive bandit. With him fighting by her side, Ailith feels invincible. But is she?

Inspired by characters created in the Skyrim Romance Mod and Beyond Skyrim: Bruma. This is the story of my Dragonborn before she faces Alduin and meets Bishop.

Chapter 1: The First Arrest

The Arcane university was a beautiful and imposing building, it rose above the south side of the Imperial City and the energies of the hundreds of mages inside would hum over the city with any breeze. Officially it was known as the home of the Synod, however many still called it the arcane university. Students from all corners of the continent would flock there to improve their skills in relative peace. There were no age barriers and classes were organised by ability. The oldest current student being an Altmer of over a hundred years, and the youngest being a gifted Argonian at eleven.

Like some students of her age, Ailith had very little interest in her studies. Following on from the pressure from her mother, Ailith had been developing her magic skills since she was old enough to speak. Now at fifteen years old she was ahead of her class, even the teacher sometimes and she couldn't understand why she had to waste her time in these lessons. Especially as she was separated from her friends to enter this group. They were still in some lower level classes, while Ailith had been dragged into Advanced. She was on track to become a researcher or even a Master.

She looked around her classroom, there were several elves and a few humans, and from her perch at the back of the room Ailith studied them as they were hunched over parchment taking attentive notes from their teacher. Her own sheets were pristine and untouched. It wasn't even a proper lecture; they were just being given overviews of the main fields of study and why it was important to pick just one area. Ailith yawned loudly and smirked as her neighbour, an elderly Dunmer with spectacles, glared at her. She tapped the parchment and the Dunmer looked away with a quiet growl.

Ailith ran her hands through her hair and frowned when her fingers tugged on some knots. There was also some hardening ink in her hair from a nap she took in the morning. The blackness made her hair look slightly charred at the tips. Ailith rubbed it between her fingers, watching the dry ink drift onto the perfectly white parchment. The shapes the ink fell into were far more interesting than this lecture. They looked remarkably similar to Daedric runes.

The room around her stank of troll fat after an alchemy accident the day before and it made Ailith's head pound. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and frustration as she looked to the unopenable windows. She resentfully noted that it was a beautiful day outside the cold stone walls of the University. She leaned back in her seat, feeling miserable while the teacher droned on about choosing a specialty within the schools of magic, it took everything she had not to roll her eyes. The Synod didn't care about preserving Mages health, they wanted to limit the power of their students and stop anyone from disrupting the status quo.

As the daughter of the University's Master of illusion, she was expected to simply follow in her mother's footsteps. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, when she was young her mother had recognised her early talents and encouraged her strengths in all schools of Magika, with plenty of focus on respecting her limits. She couldn't help but snort, illusion spells were so dull compared to the rush of manipulating the elements. Ailith used to love magic and learning, she began her university career as an enthusiastic and attentive student but when the other Masters would just assume that she would focus on illusion skills and make pompous comments at any interest she had in other schools, she felt like they were slamming her into a box. Every day Ailith felt herself hardening as she distanced from university life. The daily patronising discussions with teachers had crushed her love of magic, now she just didn't care.

She especially didn't care when she had to endure these lectures on specialising in a field of magic. Maybe if she could conjure a small flame atronach, they would let the class out early... Her fingers twirled gently over the parchment, absently tracing a summoning circle.

"Miss Copperwing! Are we boring you?" The irritating voice of her teacher broke into her fantasy as he slammed a book on the desk at the front, making everyone jump. She felt the rest of the class eyeing her, hoping to see her taken down a peg or two. Ailith knew they didn't like her... they hated that she was better than them. She also knew she was the youngest in the group by at least ten years which was hugely resented, and she loved showing off in class.

Ignoring her classmates, she smirked at the stuffy Altmer at the front of the classroom. She released a heavy sigh before answering him. "Just a bit, Mr Spellock..." she drawled. As an added insult, she began to chew on a ragged fingernail.

She could almost taste the disapproval from her classmates as it rippled towards her. They tutted and shook their heads. She didn't care, they were dull morons and she enjoyed watching her teacher squirm. Despite beings an arrogant ass and always talking down to her, he wasn't even a master of anything, he hadn't earned the right to teach anyone.

"Well," he frowned for a second. He ran a hand through his golden hair before smirking, "I suppose, to perhaps save us some time, you wouldn't mind explaining to the class what the consequences of magika burnout are?" The class stared silently between the two mages.

"Burnout, hmm..." Ailith picked at an invisible thread on her robes, sounding bored. She gnawed on her lip and sighed more dramatically than necessary. "I guess that would be when you spread yourself out over too many fields causing rapid fatigue, hindered recovery and impaired casting. It could cost your life if you get too carried away or potentially weaken your abilities permanently... Oh! And we have to mention caster's flu, that's a nasty... nasty consequence there." She finished by sucking a breath through her teeth.

Ailith's mother had explained this to her when she discovered her daughter aged ten surrounded by spellbooks from all of the magic schools and practising novice level spells from each of them. Ailith's smirk widened into a grin as Mr Spellock shook his head and took a moment to compose himself. He was getting quite annoyed with her, but now it was the time to put the cherry on top. She stood up and stretched. Everyone blinked at her curiously.

"However, being well versed in many schools could save your life. A good example of this, would be the spell Equilibrium, belonging to the Alteration school I believe," she directed this sarcastically to her teacher, needing no response as she knew damn well Equilibrium was part of the Alteration family of spells.

She rolled her sleeves up and extended a palm to show a vivid red glow that was beginning to flutter like weak flames, "Now I can use this to drain my own life force to fuel my magic," the red glow became brighter and crept up her arm. Ailith watched her classmates as they stared at the almost demonic redness. The effects of the spell were instant, she felt herself grow tired and her bones began aching as power was drawn from them. Looking around the room at her audience, she knew it was worth the weakness and pain to see them in awe of her. Her teacher was speechless, and his golden skin had developed a pink hue, maybe he was having a stroke...

"You can see as the glow moves up my arm, I'm growing weaker. It would be very easy to accidentally kill myself doing this, but..." she extended another palm to show a golden glow, "as I am pretty good with restoration," she winked, "if I have any healing spell cast then I will recover my lifeforce while still charging magika. Very useful in desperate situations." The golden glow began to spread up her other arm a bit more quickly, balancing the two spells.

Ailith grinned around the class, her classmates were muttering to each other, sounding impressed. She caught the eye of one of her bigger critics, Frida an elderly Nord who had run away to Cyrodiil to learn about the arcane arts. Ailith shot her an arrogant wink while the older woman's face crinkled.

She was taken by surprise when Mr Spellock slammed another book on his desk. The librarian would be pissed if he damaged any of these tomes. Ailith tilted her head to peek at the spines of the books. They seemed to be ok.

"Enough! ENOUGH!" he yelled. Ailith closed her palms, ending the spells as she quirked an eyebrow at the irritated Altmer. "I can't stand another minute of this spectacle. I am the teacher here! Leave Miss Copperwing, and I will speak to your mother about this!" He raised his hand, pointing to the door. His hand trembled and glowed an ominous shade of orange.

Ailith blinked, playing the mother card was unexpected, and once she got over her shock, she snickered. "Let's see who speaks to her first, Spellock." Leaving her untouched parchment and inkless quill on the desk, Ailith strode out of the classroom without looking back.

She strode down the back stairwell, avoiding the teleportation stones used by most students. Ailith decided it was wise to avoid other mages for the time being. She left the university grounds, crossing the bridge into the city and entered the Arboretum. Dozens of citizens strolled the around the district, admiring the statues of the eight divines, however, no one paused at the young oak tree that replaced the old Talos statue. It was growing slowly in the centre of the Arboretum and almost completely concealed the cracked stones where Talos had stood. As she passed the tree, Ailith could see the shadows along the walls that were too dark to be anything other than Thalmor justiciars, ensuring that no one was stupid enough to openly worship Talos. They were using some form of concealment magic and they were almost invisible to non-magic users. Ailith glanced around and counted at least six shadowy figures spaced around the arboretum. She looked away from the walls, wanting to avoid being noticed by the Thalmor. This was the cost of peace and they just had to live with it. Ailith continued to walk around the arboretum towards the gate leading to the Arena district. Out of habit, Ailith paused at the statue of Julianos and pressed her hand on the cool marble.

Other mages passed the statue at the same time and also rested their palms on the statue, muttering their thanks to Julianos for his wisdom and their powers. Ailith ignored them and silently asked for help. She wanted to love magic again, but she didn't know how. Slowly, she dropped her hand and walked away. Ailith decided to visit the market district and maybe the bookshop could provide some inspiration.

It was shaping up to be a hot day, but that was hardly surprising for the middle of Sun's Height. As she felt the sun sink through her skin, it was warming her and restoring her energy. Showing off like that was more taxing than she would admit to anyone. When Ailith overexerted herself, she always felt chilled to her bones. Her boots thudded softly over the cobbles and she followed the sound of the busy marketplace. Her robes fluttered around her knees and she pulled the sleeves down over her hands to help warm up quicker. She arrived at the front door for the First Edition bookshop, but it was closed, according to a sign in the window the owner was away visiting family. Ailith tutted quietly and walked back towards the main marketplace.

She came to a stop and sat on a moss-covered wall to watch the people pass by. Ailith always marvelled at her home city, its strong stone walls bore many scars. The city had survived Daedric invasions and war, but the people of the city always endured. Their will to live kept the market busy and the people browsing stalls now were not too different from their ancestors who rebuilt their lives after the Oblivion crisis. Distracted from her earlier confrontation, Ailith smiled, she was always fascinated with people watching, each person was absorbed in their own world, barely aware of others around them.

The hum of activity quietened as a procession of people walked past. Ailith watched them as they passed through crowds of people. They strode past in their resplendent robes, ignoring the people around them and continued into the heart of the city. They must have been politicians, Ailith thought as they disappeared. Merchants and customers moved in the opposite direction, silently lost to their own thoughts and the flow of people began again. Ailith watched the people passing through, some were sombre and discussing their worries, and others were jovially chatting to their friends. The world outside may be shifting, but the market seemed to stay the same.

It had been many years since the last great war with the Thalmor and to Ailith, it seemed that the land was recovering nicely. There were whispers of rebellion in other provinces, but that seemed far away from her and these busy shoppers. She tipped her face towards the sun, enjoying her freedom and gently swung her feet, tapping her heels on the wall. She kept thoughts of the University away by humming tunelessly. There would be consequences for her behaviour later, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Ailith pushed the hooded part of her robes down and shook out her dark hair. The heat from the sun provided healing warmth and Ailith was feeling better after her use of Equilibrium, she was certainly feeling recovered enough to try a new spell that she had been practising at home. She found it in a book from the library, called Telekinesis, it claimed to be more advanced but Ailith was confident she could cast it. She could use it to steal a book right out of Spellock's hands in their next class, she chuckled to herself.

Clearing her mind, she raised her palm and watched an orange light drift from her fingertips towards an apple in one of the vendor's barrels, it left a misty trail as it moved. As she concentrated, she watched the apple wiggle in the barrel. Feeling sweat dribble down her face, Ailith used her other palm to cast Equilibrium to give her magic a boost.

She felt the apple rise and watched the orange light wrap around it, quickly she retracted the spell in time to stop Equilibrium draining her completely. The apple landed in her hand with a beautiful thud, and she blinked through her dizziness. She sniffed deeply, it was crisp and smelled sweeter than any she'd had before. She bit into it with smug satisfaction. She was mastering advanced spells like a fish learning to swim, even if it didn't bring her the same joy as it had done previously.

"Stop right there!" a deep voice yelled from near the vendor she stole from.

Ailith's smile dropped, "Ah, shit..." She really should have made sure no one was watching, normally the Bosmer who ran this stall was too busy flirting with the Nord who owned the weapons one. Didn't guards have better things to do than hover around the market?

The guard reached her spot on the wall and towered over her, his hand resting menacingly on the hilt of his sword. The sun struck his over polished armour and it blinded Ailith. She rubbed her eyes as he stepped closer.

"Break the law on my watch, will you?! You better have enough gold to pay for that!"

Ailith glared at this pathetic man on his power trip.

"Oh yes, here's the one whole gold coin for the damn apple," Ailith spat, unable to control her temper. She angrily reached into her coin purse for some money to appease the guard. She was furious at herself for getting caught, and pissed at him for just existing... The guard glared at her as he took the money from her hand. He did a double take and added a vicious smirk to his nasty face.

"You're Gregory Copperwing's daughter, aren't you? He's a good man, honourable..." Ailith froze as he spoke, she was so used to disappointing her mum that she barely cared, but dad was another story... She watched him warily and let her hand slowly drop to the wall. She didn't like where this was going.

"... I wonder how he would feel about having to bail his daughter out of jail..."

Ailith went white as the guard finished, "You have no cause to arrest me, I paid for the goods," she spluttered, horrified at the turn of events.

"True, but you were incredibly disrespectful to a member of the Imperial Watch... I think you need to come with me." He extended an arm, inviting her to stand.

Ailith considered arguing, but she could see the guard's smug grin, practically daring her to make a comment. She sagged, her face flaming with shame as the market had all but stopped to watch her get arrested, over an apple. She stood quietly and left the cursed apple on the wall. As she let the guard bind her wrists, painfully tight, she kept her head high. Before being dragged off to the cells Ailith scanned the market for any familiar faces from her father's guild. There was no one. Her eyes burned but she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction.

The asshole took the longest route to the prison, hoping that plenty of people would see and report back to her father that Ailith had been arrested, it was certainly hot gossip. The daughter of two highly respected citizens in the city getting arrested. She was mortified and relieved in equal measure. If word got back to her father quickly, he could bail her out sooner. Her mother wouldn't hear about this until much later. She'd be locked in her study and Ailith knew she would never come down to the cells.

#TESV #Elder Scrolls #fanfic #skyrim fanfiction #predragonborn #bratty kid #Arcane University #Imperial City

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crownprincebhav · 10 months

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🌶️Spicy Starter 🌶️ based on this (n$fw image) for @ofswordandcrowns

Until very recently, Bhavan had never taken much notice of mature men, rougher men, or bigger men than himself. Always knowing that he would be slated to marry a prince to make his queen, he tended to look in those directions most. Even the common-born flames he enjoyed in the brothels tended to be about his age or a little younger. Tended to be more wiry than bulky. Yet since he and his retinue had had to cross into Dele by horse, things had been different. Particularly with Rider Magnus.

Once, through particularly dense tree cover, the man had opted to ride a horse instead of his dragon; just in case of bandits. The Crown Prince had been very relieved that this security measure was short-lived; riding the rest of way to Dele watching the big man's ass clenching in those leather pants would have been very uncomfortable.

When they had stopped for their midday break and Bhav wandered off "to take a piss", Magnus had accompanied him. The prince had really wanted to stroke his cock to relieve some of the tension, but if the dragon rider insisted, who was he to spare the man's modesty. He had expected that when he extracted his fat cock from his breeches and started stroking, Magnus would take the hint and leave. The dragon rider paused and in that pause, Bhav said with exasperation, “By all means, you may leave or drop to your knees and satisfy what you inspired,”

In response, Magnus had knelt down and surprised his prince instead. Now, Bhav was looking down and watching the way that the rider skillfully used his mouth on his balls, never breaking eye contact. Tentatively, because the man could kill him easily, Bhav rested his hands on the man's shoulders to balance himself. "I had no idea you were so talented, Magnus..."

#spicy starter #aladonia #bhav x magnus

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queen-of-the-weenies · 1 year

Text

The refugees all huddled together around a pitifully small fire, shivering as cold wind gently brushed their backs. The fire was rather small, barely two handfuls of sticks and scraps of bark peeled off nearby trees, and the five of them were plenty to form a human shield against the wind. Every stray breeze threatened to put out the meager flame, to plunge them into frigid darkness once again. The moon above was hidden by a dense layer of clouds, though it was unlikely they would have gotten much light from the waning moon anyways.

Sterling, the self-proclaimed leader of their tiny clan, was continuously scanning the forest around them, ever alert for danger from the Sun King’s army, or bandits, or wild animals that might be starved enough to attack a group of people. He was a huge man, certainly large enough to deter would-be predators in more normal circumstances, but they were already in the second year of an endless winter. Even animals used to the cold and snow would be starving and feral by this point… The wind kicked up briefly, forcing everyone to hunch over and huddle closer together.

They wore mismatched clothes that barely protected them from the cold. Sterling had hunted some animals when he could, using the meat for food, the fur to line everyone’s cloaks and boots, and the fat to waterproof their shoes. It was hard to keep everyone safe. There were so many dangers lurking in every direction, and the omnipresent cold threatened them at every moment. They had killed a bear recently, but the beast was so malnourished that it barely offered any meat or fat. Its fur was so matted and mangy that they didn’t dare try to use it for lining. Though, even if it had been a healthy, fat bear, Sterling doubted they would have wanted the grim reminder of the creature that killed one of their own.

Across the fire, Aero held her hands out to the fire. Her fingers were numb, holes in her threadbare mittens letting the cold in no matter how much she tried to patch them up. Even the scraps of fur stuffed into them did little to keep out the chill.

As Sterling’s daughter, she felt it was important to maintain a strong facade, to keep the group’s morale high. It was easier said than done, though. She was four months pregnant, and it was growing increasingly more difficult to keep a brave face when she was eternally worried about her unborn baby. The Sun King had promised that any children born during the winter would be protected in his palace, but neither Aero nor Sterling believed him. They had heard plenty of stories about babies being ripped away from their screaming mothers, too young to survive without milk yet taken by force to the palace, never to be seen again. Rumors flew in every direction about what the king did with all these babies, but rumors were all they had to go on. While she’d love to think that she would fight to the death to keep her baby, there was nothing she’d be able to do, realistically. They were a quintet of half-starved, cold-numbed civilians. The Sun King’s soldiers were always well-fed and strong, and they always came in large groups. The mere thought of her baby being taken away by a mass of cruel soldiers made Aero sick. For the hundreth time, she wished that Robin was still around. He wouldn’t have been able to fight the soldiers any better than her, but at least they would have had each other to the bitter end.

To her left, Rhythm noticed to ashen look on Aero’s face and reached over to draw her against his side. All the worrying was bad for her baby, but there was no comfort he could offer besides sharing body heat. His younger brother had fathered the child, and the lovers had often come up with plans to raise and care for their child. Rhythm always thought it silly. What could two scrawny village kids do in this frozen hellscape?

Thinking about his brother caused a deep pain in his chest. Less than a week ago, Robin had been mauled by a bear while the brothers were out hunting. The beast had taken Rhythm’s right hand clean off, but Robin had no such luck. His brother, his poor baby brother, had survived for some hours afterwards, desperately clinging to life… But they’d had no bandages, no medicine, not even some alcohol to numb his pain. None of them allowed Aero to see him. She didn’t need to see the nightmarish sight of her beloved lying in the ankle-deep snow, blood bubbling out of his mouth in a foamy red mess. The bear had gouged him deeply in some places, but the lethal wound was the fractured rib cage that punctured his lungs. They couldn’t even put him out of his misery, for they had no weapons to speak of.

Rhythm felt ill as thoughts about his poor, mangled, dying brother’s last gurgling gasp for air rose unbidden to the forefront of his memory. The sound still followed him into every nightmare, ringing in his ears with every gust of wind. His missing hand ached with phantom pains, while the scarred, scabbed stump throbbed with cold agony. Desperate to push the thoughts away, he hugged Aero even closer, forcing his train of thought instead down the spiral of wondering what they would do when the baby was born. IF the baby was born.

Maya shuddered violently as an abrupt, strong burst of wind tore at her hair, yanking it up from under the neck of her cloak. She kept her gaze firmly on the fire, ignoring the scene of Aero and Rhythm to her left, ignoring Sterling’s paranoid, watchful stare on her right. Every few seconds, she caught movement in her peripheral, but she ignored it all. It was incredibly dangerous to disregard everything she saw, since she couldn’t hear anything, but it hurt to see these folks she was traveling with.

It especially hurt to look at Aero at all.

Unlike the pregnant woman, Maya had no baby, not anymore. The Sun King’s soldiers had burst into her house only a month after her little boy was born. They ignored her screams; ignored her baby’s wailing; ignored her neighbors who yelled and pelted the armored men with stones and stale bread and whatever refuse they could grab. Maya had run after them, chasing their horses for almost two miles before they stopped. One of the soldiers had dropped from his horse and beat her until her whole body ached. They left her for dead on the side of the road, the snow already piling up on her body, numbing the pain of her broken arm and all the bruises that were already forming.

It was there that Sterling had found her and saved her life… But Maya wished he had let her die. Every time she saw Aero’s belly, she wanted to scream and tear her hair out. Every time Rhythm or Sterling gestured at the unborn baby in conversations, she wanted to run into the woods and feed herself to the frozen wasteland. Even now, over a year after her baby was stolen, when the pain had dulled to a desolate ache deep in her bones, she was contemplating simply walking out into the snow and giving up entirely.

The fifth and final member of the little group, Violet, lifted her face to the sky. She was by far the oldest, her ash-gray hair hanging in thin wisps around her wrinkled, sun-darkened face.

The fire crackled, sending shadows dancing across her aged face, giving her an air of sinister mystery for a brief moment. She was the last to join them, and had been entirely silent for nine days thus far. Sterling theorized that she was also deaf, like Maya, with eyes too old and weak to understand sign language. Aero insisted that the woman simply didn’t speak Caldaean like the rest of them. Rhythm had suggested simply leaving her behind, since a deaf, blind, old woman would only slow everyone down… But every time the suggestion was made, they would find Violet staring at them with a gaze colder than the icy weather, and the discussion was quickly abandoned.

Luckily, she was there when Rhythm stumbled back to the camp, missing a hand and his brother. Violet had torn a strip of her own cloak, tightly bound the stump, and shoved it into a snowbank to slow the bleeding while Sterling ran to help Robin. Afterwards, she was unresponsive when the others tried to thank her, as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

She had a particular soft spot for Maya. Often, when Maya’s depression sunk to its lowest depths, Violet was the only one who could bring her spirits up; she offered her portion of food, gave the grieving woman some water that had been warmed by the fire, or huddled close to her to share their cloaks for extra warmth. It was Violet who tended to the aches of Maya’s poorly healed arm, keeping it immobilized with a makeshift splint when the pain was too much.

Tonight was one of the nights that Violet simply kept to herself. She watched the sky, searching for any sliver of moonlight, hoping for a glimpse of the stars. The clouds continued to roll by, too thick to let through even the tiniest peek of the heavens.

The five travelers remained clustered together. Each of them grieving their own losses. Each of them wondering what tomorrow would bring, and hoping to just survive to that tomorrow.

Aero began to cry, her stony expression crumbling as the weight of anxiety became too much. Rhythm clutched her tighter, pulling his own cloak around her to add warmth and comfort. Maya and Violet ignored them. Sterling watched his daughter struggle to regain her composure, unable to offer comfort in such a hopeless situation. They were barely surviving as it was. With Robin dead and Rhythm still recovering from his maiming, Sterling was the only one able to hunt. Loathe as he was to leave everyone unattended, he had no choice. He would have to hunt again in the morning, and he desperately prayed to gods he no longer believed in that there would be something--anything--for them to eat.

Wind kicked up, blasting a fresh wave of ice and snow and cold over the group. Maya hovered close to the fire, using her body to shield it, saving the meager flames. Sterling grabbed a handful of sticks from a small pile they had collected earlier, feeding the tiny fire. The twigs snapped and popped as they heated, sending some sparks up that winked out just as quickly.

Violet lowered her head to watch the fire, her rheumy eyes squinting against the light.

Somewhere, far in the distance, an unfamiliar bird called. The wind died away, leaving them yet again in a deep, frigid silence. The world became still once more, and the fire continued to burn.

#writing #short story #Anna's Story Emporium #horror #winter

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muses-of-the-memory · 4 years

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"Happy Birthday, Tifa!" Big Belly the Large Body and Flame Fatso the Fat Bandit shouted.

“Oh!” Tifa shouted in surprise when she was knocked back by something squishy from behind her when she walking around Radiant Garden. She turns around and sees Big Belly the Large Body and Flame Fatso the Fat Bandit of the Heartless Rebels, and they came to wish her happy birthday today.

“Big Belly, Flame Fatso, thank you for saying it’s my birthday.” She smiled.

@friendlyheartless

#friendlyheartless #heartless rebels #big belly the large body #flame fatso the fat bandit #bar-tending brawler (tifa lockhart)#kh verse #oc rp #world: radiant garden #happy birthday tifa lockhart

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yespolkadotkitty · 2 years

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"We're snowed in and there is not a lot of space and heat" with your choice of Joel character? Maybe Heller? 🥰

Oooooooohhh

Words: 900 ~ Pairing: Erik Heller x female reader ~ Warnings: Brief mention of an attack and rescue

-----

“Now what do we do?”

Erik Heller turns from the window. You both woke up to this white-out, snow beyond the door that looks knee-deep. Today Heller was meant to be taking you home from this uninhabitable place, but that doesn’t look likely now.

“Now we wait,” he replies, in that annoyingly calm way of his.

“For days?”

“If necessary, ja.” He stalks away from the window and grabs some logs from the pile by the door. “I will stoke the fire.”

You glare at the line of his broad back as he piles the logs he felled yesterday on to the wilting flame in the fireplace.

This cabin is a waystation for soldiers-for-hire like Erik. A job he seems very good at, if the speed at which he rescued you from opportunist bandits is anything to go by. You’ll never forget the flinty look in his maple-brown eyes during the stand off. All parties made it out alive, incredibly, but one of the bandits is going to be walking funny for some time after Erik put a bullet in his calf.

“This should warm you up,” Erik says, still facing the flickering flames, the red and orange greedily licking at the fresh wood.

Your heart softens. It’s hardly his fault that it snowed so hard. You are in the mountains after all. “Thankyou,” you say. “Shall I make some tea?”

“Coffee, if you don’t mind,” he says in his low, pleasantly musical German accent. You learned German at school and the accent never struck you as particularly seductive until you met the tall, blond man currently turning over logs in the iron hearth.

“Sure.”

You busy yourself in the small kitchen area, making tea for you and coffee, black, for Erik. When you turn with the mugs in hand, he’s standing looking into the flames. His grey knit sweater looks impossibly soft. You want to reach out and put your palm over his heart, feel the organ beat under layers of wool and skin and muscle, but you don’t. Because you barely know him.

“Here.”

“Thankyou.” He inclines his head slightly, like a 1940s gentleman. That look would suit him. Grey waistcoat, tweed jacket, smart shoes.

You shake the image off. “I don’t suppose there are any boardgames here?”

****

Hours later, you’ve played four games of Monopoly. Erik has a very dry sense of humour and a quick wit. Unfortunately, wit alone can’t keep you warm. The fire is burning steadily, but the cabin is a large space and the snow outside is making the building cold, even if you continue to chain-drink tea until you feel like your organs are floating around inside you.

You must shiver noticeably, because Erik mutters your name.

You look up. “Hmm?”

“You should have told me you were still cold.”

“I’m fine.”

He grabs your hand. You know your fingers are like ice, and he swears lowly. “You are not fine. You will catch your death.”

You huff. “Sounds like something my mum would say.”

“Then she is a sensible woman,” he mutters.

“For God’s sake if you ever meet her don’t tell her that. She’ll be immediately casting you as her son in law.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth you regret them. “Sorry,” you blurt out. “It was a joke. You’re probably already married. Or with someone.” You look away. Your face is burning.

Erik squeezes your hand gently. “I’m not married. Or with anyone. There was a woman, a long time ago, but.. She died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” On instinct you wrap yourself around him for a tight hug. His heart beats steadily under your ear. “Me and my big fat mouth.”

He chuckles and the sound is lovely and deep from your position on his chest. “Doesn’t matter. Come on. Let’s get you warm.”

You open your mouth to say yes, it does matter, but then you gasp when he lifts you up into his arms. You panic for a second, clutch at his arms and boy, he’s jacked under that sweater. “What are you doing?”

“Bed is the warmest place here. Thick sheets, and my old CO taught me a trick about heating up beds.”

When you snort, he huffs. “Not like that. You’ll see.”

He sets you down on the bed with a gentleness surprising from someone his size.

When he returns five minutes later, he’s holding something wrapped in a bundle of cloth. He peels a little back to show you a brick.

“Put the brick in the fire, wrap it up, slide it at the foot of the bed under the sheets. A hot water bottle.”

You wiggle your feet down until your toes just brush the hot bundle. It’s divine. “Oh,” you moan.

A muscle in Erik’s jaw twitches. He turns to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To guard the door,” he grates out.

“From who? The snowdrift is three feet deep! And the guys who grabbed me were opportunistic. Would they really see wading through three feet of snow an opportunity?”

He nods slightly. “Fine. But I can’t stay here with you. It’s not safe. For you.”

You furrow your brows. “You won’t hurt me.”

“No. Not that.” His gaze flicks down your body, lust darkening his beautiful eyes, and you think: oh. Everything inside you heats.

Then you hold out your hand and say, “Stay anyway. I want you.”

People who might like this: @skvatnavle @heresathreebee @klmurr @lacontroller1991 @a-reader-and-a-writer @11thstreetvigilante

#erik heller x female reader #erik heller x reader #hanna 2018 fanfic #hanna tv series #hanna amazon prime #joel kinnaman characters

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agrabahsheadguard · 3 years

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“Razoul, this is Flame, reporting for duty.” The Fat Bandit Heartless spoke to the captain of the guard.

He looks at The Fat Bandit with a smile on his face. "Ah right on time, I like that." He looked him up and down. "Somehow you remind me of me." He said, being as smug as he could.

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cherrybombwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Guardian of the Shrine

Tengu Kirishima x Fem Reader fic

Explicit/Smut

This is part of the Citrus Dome server collab Gods AU!

Masterlist coming soon @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten

ENJOY!

Black, swirling shadows circled your ankles, reached out to capture your fingers as you instinctively flinched away; legs stuck in their place as though encased in blocks of ice. Your own gasping breaths filled your ears along with your thudding heartbeat. Despite how much you willed your eyes to shut they remained open, unblinking and staring at the inky void before you. The shadows rushed together, spiraling and entwining around each other until a tall figure formed in the distance. Angled shoulders jutted out each side, obscenely long arms dripped out of the writhing mass and they shakily began to reach forward, reach for you. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes wide in horror as the figure shunted closer still.

“Never...forgive…”

The words drilled into your ears. Long, black tendrils of hair slithered about the being’s shoulders and didn’t stop when they reached the floor, pooling around the creature’s pale ankles as more of it’s flesh became visible. The hair crept forward, inching its way to your trapped feet no matter how much you tried to squirm and writhe out of your stuck position.

“I’ll never...forgive…”

The summer air was thick as you gulped it down, chest rising and falling as you gasped for air. Your blankets were a twisted mess crumpled at your side. Sweat dappled your skin as you lay sprawled out on your futon, back in the comforting darkness of your room. A soft whimper left your dry lips as you wiped your forehead and tried to steady your racing heart. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness you reached to your side, grabbing hold of the talisman you had kept from your childhood.

“Baku-san.” you said between breaths, “Baku-san, come eat my dream.”

Morning sun streamed through your modest home and you stirred awake. The horrors of the night were still fresh in your mind, yet it appeared as though the Baku had consumed any further nightmares and you were able to sleep peacefully until the morning. With a groan, you pulled yourself from your blankets and straightened them out before you began your morning ritual. Your first task was to leave a piece of candy on your pillow for the zashiki warashi who had kindly taken up residence in your home. From a very early age you had been able to see and interact with yokai, something you had always considered a blessing rather than a curse. Your parents would catch you talking to guestroom children, or sneaking a bottle of fine sake outside for the troublesome tanuki.

You wandered barefoot outside, patches of sunlight warming your skin as you collected water to wash. The forest was calm, quiet other than the birds and wind as it whistled through the bamboo. The water was a cold addition to the chilly morning breeze, but it was a welcome necessity, waking you up for the full day of tasks ahead. Fully dressed with your hair pinned up, you prepared a simple lunch and packed it along with a container of water and your broom. Your isolated home was a short walk from the shrine, but admittedly those stairs made your thighs ache. Respectfully bowing at the Torii, you noticed the path was mercifully clear of leaves and debris, a testament to your hard work.

After purifying at the chozuya, you continued to the shrine which was looking much better than the pitiful state you found it in. It had long been abandoned, possibly because of the overwhelming yokai activity in the area, though many of the stories you heard could have been attributed to bandits and wandering thieves. You had restored it to the best of your abilities, cleaning away dead plants and moss where you could. The warm sun streamed against the shrine, highlighting the dips and curves of the long nosed Tengu mask that sat there. You reached the top and clapped your hands once before pressing your palms together in prayer. Silently asking for purification, for release from the blackness that haunted your dreams and followed your every footstep. The shadow was the reason you moved away from your town, choosing the seclusion of the forested mountains to protect your loved ones. It had been your hope that by pleasing the yokai you could find help, something to appease the darkness or banish it from your life entirely. But it only seemed to be getting closer with every night that passed.

"Good morning." You said brightly as you could muster.

Setting your food aside, you took your broom and started sweeping. The shrine needed regular upkeep and you were the only person available for miles around. At first, your intention had been a trade, for the guardian of the shrine to protect you from whatever it was that tormented you. As time went on, attending to the shrine brought you a sense of peace, as well as something of a companion in your self imposed solitude. After briefly tidying up, you sat at the shrine and unwrapped your food.

"It's going to be a sunny day today, I should be able to visit the lake without getting caught in the rain."

It was quiet. The only replies you could hear were from the chirping morning birds. It would always be a one way conversation, but you could feel an unmistakable presence in this place. Someone or something would always listen to you.

"I um. I dreamed about him again. I think at this point, Baku-san may grow fat from the dreams I ask him to take…"

Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach. An unpleasant squeeze at your chest caught your breath as you tried to take a few more bites of rice.

"I don't think I have much time. I can feel it getting closer to me…"

Your smile faded, eyes stinging with unshed tears before you could gather yourself in front of the shrine.

"But I'm not giving up! A-and I'll keep coming here as long as I can…I don't want you to be lonely again."

A surge of despair was the very first feeling that hit you the first time you ascended these steps. The shrine had been forgotten and whatever lingered here abandoned along with it. The overwhelming wave of sadness that enveloped you that day completely distracted from your own plight. Originally the plan was to ask for help, but it was apparent there was something here that needed it more.

"Maybe if it reveals itself, I can talk to it and find out why it's so angry…"

You weren't fooled by your own shaky tone and apparently, neither was the being in the shrine. As you finished your half of the food, warmth began to radiate from the Tengu mask. It draped over your shoulders like a comforting blanket, easing your nerves as you sighed out your frustrations. With every visit, the presence grew stronger as though you could almost reach out and touch a tangible being.

"Thank you…"

As much as you wanted to remain there, the day's list of tasks was long and if you wanted to sustain yourself, you had to get started. You stood and took hold of the empty lunchbox from yesterday, leaving half of your food behind to share with your only friend out here. It was always gone by the time you came back, though you couldn't exactly prove who was finishing it off. Dusting off your knees, you respectfully bowed and said your goodbyes before heading back down the steps to the shrine and into the forest. Heat rose along with the sun. Splashing your face with the clear water of the lake helped somewhat and you hoped the locals wouldn't mind. You left a new batch of cucumbers floating there, knowing the Kappa would appreciate them and, who knows, maybe they could eventually help ward off your demons. There was still hope but your heart grew heavier as the day went on. A full day of chores would ensure you slept despite your fear, though you couldn't help but wonder if you would even wake up again the next morning.

With aching feet you trudged back through your door, announcing your return out loud for your own benefit. The candy left out had mysteriously disappeared which brought the touch of a smile to your cheek. The sun burned an angry red as it disappeared over the horizon, forcing yourself to light the lanterns around your modest home. Your limited crops had been tended to, bamboo and wood had been chopped and you had collected enough water for your bath, which you sorely needed by now. After a simple meal, you washed the labours of the day from your skin before climbing into the steaming tub for a soak. The hot water soothed your aching muscles, but the heat couldn't penetrate that cold, sickly feeling in the pit of your stomach. It was there. Its presence was weak, but it grew with every passing hour of the night. The shadows around you flickered in the low light of the lantern flames, at least that's what you told yourself. Movement kept grabbing your attention, twitching at the corners of your eyes until you sharply turned to glance behind you.

Nothing, nothing you could see with a naked eye that is. You released a breath you had been holding and rubbed your eyes, looking again just to make sure. This time something did catch your eye, small and unassuming but it hadn't been there a second ago. You rose out of your bath, wrapping a towel around you as you closed in on the unfamiliar object. Your eyes adjusted and you recognised a long, black feather placed neatly on the ground by the door as though it were waiting for you. Instinctively you picked it up and immediately you could feel a tingling warmth radiating up your fingertips. Its origin was a mystery but for some bizarre reason, holding it brought you comfort. Given the amount of yokai you had been trying to appease, it could have been a gift from any one of them. Maybe this could bring you peace tonight. With a hopeful smile you quietly thanked the gifter before changing into your night wear and letting your hair down. Your intention was to place the feather under your pillow before you slept, that was until you threw back the covers to your futon.

Hidden underneath was the shattered remains of the Baku charm. The amulet that had protected you from nightmares since childhood lay in pieces, sadistically spread out beneath your blankets for you to find. A helpless whimper escaped you before you could stop it. Exhaustion from the relentless dread and the days work enveloped your limbs regardless of your discovery. With a heavy sigh, you collected the pieces and sadly gathered them in a pile at the side of your bed. Kneeling at its side, you clutched the feather close to your chest, its softness bringing you a little comfort, but it couldn't banish the darkness that was now rapidly closing in. An uneasy pang twisted your gut and you opened your eyes, frantically looking around your room. Breath caught in your throat when you noticed small, scattered holes in the Shoji. Against your better judgement, you crawled a little closer to inspect them, only to be met with the staring mokumokuren. Instantly you jumped back in fright, shuffling away from what must have been dozens of disembodied eyes, completely trained on you. They weren't here to harm you however, they were here to watch.

The air turned thick and suffocating, like a miasma of oppressive fear. The shadows around you curled and moved, revealing their true forms of long tendrils of black hair. You shook your head in disbelief, gasping for breath as it slithered from the corners of your room.

"...never forgive…"

Those words hit you into reality and you scrambled to your feet on trembling limbs. A ghostly white set of hands shifted through the wall, long fingers reaching for you. Fear gripped your body, the only command that echoed through your head seemed to be whispered over and over outside the house; run. Almost tripping over your own feet, you turned on your heel to flee. A searing, white hot pain hit your shoulder, forcing your torso to twist as you hurtled out of the door. Landing hard on your knees, you paused to look back, horrified to find a burning black hand print on your bare shoulder. Heavy footsteps thundered through your home, pale arms and feet almost glowed in the darkness and you recognised the figure lurching towards you as the same one that haunted your nightmares. His hair almost reached the ground, twisting around his jagged shoulders. Dressed entirely in white robes that enveloped his gaunt figure. Black, sunken circles sat where his eyes should have been. His pace was slow, until a random jerk of movement pulled him forward, closer to you. Inwardly you begged your limbs to move, fingernails scratching at the dirt to drag yourself away.

"I'll never...forgive you…"

What did those words even mean? It seemed as though you would die tonight never knowing. Your eyes burned with tears as you crawled further away. A flash of red fur caught your attention, snapping your head to look at the path before you. A fox stood inches from you, its golden eyes locked on yours before it turned and dashed towards the forest trees. It stopped before disappearing, glancing back at you, waiting for you to follow. His fur seemed to glow, sending a sliver of hope to your stomach and it pulled you to your feet. Foxes were messengers, this had to be the help you had been looking for. The creature was fast but wouldn't let you lose sight of it, stopping every now and then to allow you to keep following up the steps of the shrine. The darkness continued to trace your footsteps, blackness curling through the ground like an infection spreading, filling everything it touched. You stumbled on the stone in your bare feet, lungs burning as you finally reached the top, only to have that same searing pain from before grasping around your ankles. You fell hard on your stomach, kicking at the creature as tendrils of black hair began to travel up your legs.

"Let go!! I didn't do anything to you!" you cried out as it climbed over your body.

"I'll never forgive you!" It roared back in response.

The fox shrieked, its fur bristling as it faced the ghostly creature. The pain on your legs subsided and your attacker snarled as it suddenly retreated back. Light pooled at the base of the shrine, gently swirling around you and creating a barrier which the being refused to touch. It was cool to the touch, bringing some relief to your burning skin. Long black feathers started drifting around you, floating gracefully to the ground and you realised the creature's attention was no longer on you, it was staring above your head at something that stood behind you. d, straight past you.

“Why are you still here?”

The voice was unfamiliar, yet oddly soothing. You turned away from the monster to find yourself gazing up at a man, face covered in the Tengu mask from the shrine and shoulders obscured by two large, feathery wings. He stepped around you, protective light surrounding him as he placed himself between you and the gaunt man.

“She...She’s gone… it’s their fault. Their fault...THEIR FAULT!”

You covered your ears as the spirit wailed, cowering behind the tall being as he relaxed his wings, creating a wider guard between you.

“This girl isn’t who you’re looking for. Your love died years ago…”

The black hair was retracting, slithering back to a shorter length around the creatures shoulders. It shook its head, bony fingers clawing at its scalp as it’s shrill voice dissolved into a whimper.

“Their fault… theirs…”

The winged man reached out, resting a large hand on the spirit’s shoulder.

“Your love died in childbirth right?”

A pathetic wail escaped his crooked mouth. You peered around your protector’s robes, your heart stopping when you noticed large tears oozing out of the creature’s sunken eyes.

“Let go of your grudge my friend. Then you’ll be able to see her, she’s been waiting for you.”

Time seemed to halt around you. Falling feathers slowed mid air and a deafening silence swept through the forest. The monster’s visage seemed to crack, peeling away like rust to reveal a dark haired young man, tears streaked across his face. The kind being gently turned his shoulder, inviting him to cast his eyes to the bottom of the steps to the shrine. She stood inside the archway, a beautiful young woman dressed in white. The spirit whispered her name before heading down the stone steps. The black infection that stained the ground retreated with every step he took, disappearing completely when he closed the gap between him and the smiling woman. Swirling light surrounded the both of them, but before you could witness their fate, the winged man turned to face you, intentionally blocking out the event as time began to flow normally once again.

“You’re safe now!” he said brightly, head tilted to the side.

You simply couldn’t find the words, not after what you had witnessed. Hell you couldn’t even make sense of it yet. The roaming light faded, leaving you both bathed in the moonlight.

“Are you alright?” he questioned after a brief silence, taking a moment to remove the mask.

He seemed not to notice your eyes widen as you took in the sight. Beneath the mask was the face of a man, high cheekbones surrounded by spikes of red hair. After the night’s events nothing really should have surprised you, yet you still felt unprepared for how handsome he was…

“I-I um… what...who was that person?”

He knelt down by your side, taking your comparatively small hand in his while resting the other on your shoulder. The danger was gone, but you were still shaking.

“That was an Onryo… from what I can tell he’s been haunting your family for generations.”

His matter of fact tone caught you off guard, yet you nodded as though you understood.

“I...I see. And um...wh-who are you?”

His eyes widened and he scratched at the back of his head. His mouth curved in a wide, embarrassed smile that revealed two rows of sharp teeth.

“Oh yeah! Probably should have introduced myself huh? My name is Kirishima Eijirou, this is my shrine.”

His tone was bright and welcoming, a stark contrast to the horrors you had faced moments ago. He read your blank expression and let out a sympathetic chuckle.

“Let me get you home… you’ve had a rough night huh?” he grinned before slipping his powerful arms beneath you and lifting you off of the ground.

You could feel your cheeks burning as he held you against his broad chest, bare skin showing through flowing, open robes. He walked down at a steady pace, as though you weighed barely anything to him as he carried you.

“Um… Kirishima?”

He hummed in response, looking down at you in anticipation. You held your breath, sure that your cheeks were turning the same colour as his hair.

“Do you know why I was being targeted by that spirit? You seemed to know who he was…”

He cleared his throat and glanced away for a moment.

“Oh uh, I was looking into it for you. I could feel it clinging to you when you first started visiting the shrine… so I asked for some help!”

You studied his face as he spoke, a little taken by his sculpted jawline and in the limited light it almost looked as though his cheeks were turning a warm shade of pink.

“The Baku told me about your dreams, it wasn’t difficult to figure it out from there. I just had to find the person he was mourning.”

It didn’t seem as easy as he was making it sound.

“His love died in childbirth a few generations back. Looks like he was shunned from her family after that, his child was taken and raised without him. I’m not sure how he died but his pain lingered. He haunted the descendants of that family...but it looks like he was really able to get to you huh?”

He gestured to the blackened handprint seared into your shoulder, careful not to touch it. The cool night air grazed your skin and it made you realise how exposed your nightwear had left your skin. Awkwardly you pulled the material closer, shielding what flesh you could under Kirishima’s lingering gaze.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured.

“I wish I could have helped you sooner. You must have been so scared…”

Your heart fluttered a little, his eyes cast down in guilt. Without hesitation you reached for his cheek, caressing his skin with your thumb.

“It’s alright, really! You protected me, I owe you my life…”

He didn’t shy away from your touch but you could feel him stiffen, mouth hanging open slightly as blood rushed to his ears and cheeks. Your eyes locked with his, melting what little confidence you had and you retracted your hand quicker than you intended.

“Ah...nah. It was the least I could do…”

It wasn’t long before you were home but he didn’t let go, carrying you through to your bedroom. Your lanterns flickered on as he passed them, lighting the room enough to highlight the shining black feathers of his beautiful wings. He set you down carefully on top of your futon and you noticed the little holes from before had disappeared from the shoji.

“Now then… the curse should be gone, but uh… those marks are going to leave some nasty scars.” he explained, noting the cruel handprints on both of your legs.

They still stung, though they were a little less angry from when they were inflicted. Kirishima sat back on his haunches, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I uh, I could help heal them for you but, it may feel a little strange.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, still attempting to wrap your mind around the being before you.

“You’re a Tengu aren’t you? I didn’t know you could heal people…”

He barked a laugh at that, gaining a little confidence as his wings bristled with pride.

“Oh yeah! We can do a lot of things you wouldn’t know about.” he said with a wink, and you had to wonder if he even realised how damned suggestive that had come across as.

“Well… I know I can trust you. I can handle a little strangeness after tonight.” you reassured him with a smile.

His smile seemed to widen at that and he moved in a little closer.

“Alright then. Just lie there and relax for me, ok?”

You weren’t sure if you were still jumpy after the attack, or if it had only just properly dawned on you that you were alone in your bedroom in the presence of a very attractive yokai, but the way he hovered over your body sent your heard thudding violently in your chest. He began at your legs, large, calloused hands drifting over the soft skin of your calf. He held your ankle so delicately, contrasting the power that must have lay beneath those thick muscles of his arms. A tingling sensation caressed your skin where he touched you, pulsing through your skin like a soothing massage. With utmost care, he lifted your leg a little higher and pressed a soft kiss to the afflicted area. Before you could stop it, a quiet moan escaped your lips in response; had your skin always been this sensitive? With a hand over your mouth, you watched as he took your other leg and repeated the same actions. You couldn’t help but watch, noting how his eyes shut when he kissed your ankle, how long his lashes were and how they complimented his masculine features. Even though you bit down on your tongue, a quiet moan was caught against your hand and the warm, tingling sensations in both of your legs lingered even after he let go. There was no time to recover as he moved upwards, reaching over to your shoulder to gently pull your clothing away from it.

“Just one more to go. But I can stop if you need me to…”

Catching your breath, you reached out to him, small hands grasping at his firm shoulders.

“Please...don’t stop.” you asked him, eyes glazing over with the pleasurable touches that continued to ghost your legs.

The Tengu climbed over you with a wolfish grin, caging you in with his sculpted arms.

“Very well… you asked for it, little one.”

His fingertips tickled your skin before you could regret your choices, glancing over the final burn and instantly easing the sting. This time you didn’t hold back your voice, mewling shamelessly as his lips once again met your flesh. He didn’t stop at one, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone and with each touch he left behind those delectable tingles that pulsed through your body.

“Ahh! K-Kirishima…” you whimpered, writhing beneath him as pain transformed completely into pleasure.

“Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going…” he breathed against your neck, sharp teeth grazing you before he nipped at your ear.

“Kirishima… I want you, please I… I need you…”

You could barely register the words that left your mouth, but you couldn’t find it in you to regret them. This rescue wasn’t your first meeting, he felt far too familiar for that. This yokai, this man had been your only meaningful company while you suffered a curse. The energy he poured into you was the same you felt everyday at the shrine and you refused to let it go.

“As you wish…” he whispered before peeling your robes from your body.

He moved over you fully, pressing his mouth against yours in a passionate, breathless kiss. His thick fingers ran through your hair and he moaned against you.

“I’ve waited for this…” he admitted, kissing a path down your chest.

His hands took hold of your breasts, fingertips gently pressing into your pliant flesh as his mouth closed over your nipple. Your back arched, his touch electric that ran currents through your entire being.

“Keep making those sounds for me little one… don’t you dare stop.” he growled against you.

He continued down, spreading your thighs and pinning them there as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re so beautiful y/n...so damned beautiful.”

Your eyes flew open as he nibbled at your inner thigh, sucking little purple marks into your soft flesh.

“Y-you...you know my name?” you breathed, hips bucking as he kissed his way closer to your mound.

“I do...I’ve known since you started restoring my shrine.”

He took hold of your hips, keeping them still as he placed teasing kisses down the length of your slit.

“You’re mine y/n. I knew from the first time you came to me… I had to claim you for myself…”

You bit your lip as his tongue separated your silken folds, sliding up and back down again before he circled your sensitive clit. He groaned in satisfaction at your taste, upping his efforts as he lapped at your nectar hungrily. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust, strong hands securing you down as he took that sensitive little pearl between his lips and flicked his tongue against it.

“Ohhh fuck!! K-Kirishima...you’re gonna make me…”

You barely had time to warn him before it hit, jolts of tingling pleasure pulsing through your body, shaking you to your very core. He pressed his tongue against you, continuing to drink your essence as you squirmed in his grip.

“Good girl… my good girl…”

He released you and pushed himself to his knees, stripping himself of his robes and stretching out his wings before he climbed back over you. Gazing up at him through your lashes, you were able to appreciate his body in full. Solid muscle rippling beneath his skin as though he had been sculpted by a master. His cock was thick, fully erect and you could barely stand the wait. You need him inside you, to fill you and claim you just like he said he would. He crawled back over you, the tip of his cock trailing against your thigh before it pressed against your soaked, needy cunt.

“Tell me what you want little one...I need to hear you say it…”

His lids were heavy, drunk with lust for you as he kept himself from sheathing his cock inside your welcoming pussy right then and there. You reached up, your fingernails tracing his scalp as you pulled him in for a hungry kiss.

“Kirishima...please fuck me. I need you to take me…”

“Oh fuck… good girl…” he growled before finally thrusting his hips and bottoming out inside you.

You held onto his neck, coaxing him to hold you close as he moved against you. It was impossible to hold back, moaning and mewling against his ear as he fucked you, his thick shaft filling you perfectly, the head of his cock pressing against every sensitive spot you had. Without warning he wrapped his arms around your lower back, lifting you up to sit on his lap as he impaled you over and over. You clung to him as you brought your hips up and down and matched his rhythm. He was beautiful even now, face contorted with pure pleasure as you clenched around his cock. He groaned against you, holding you against his glistening skin.

“Fuck… you’re mind little one...all mine…”

He quickened his pace, his moans echoing through the room along with the clashing of flesh as he neared his limit. Your thighs tensed, white hot pleasure coiling in the pit of your stomach as you reached the edge of your second orgasm.

“Oh fuck… fuck you feel so damned good… so good!”

He called out as he released, filling you with hot fluid as you milked his cock for everything he had. You followed a second after him, squeezing around his twitching shaft as your head fell back, dark spots forming in your vision as you both fell together in ecstasy. Kirishima rocked backwards, landing less than gracefully on his back with you clinging to his chest. For a few blissful moments you lay there, painting for breath, sweat glistening on your skin.

“Damn little one...heh, who knew you had it in ya!” he laughed, his chest bobbing as you lay on top of it.

Still too spaced out to talk, you lay against him with a smile and lightly kissed his chest.

“Hey uh… was this, really ok?”

His question surprised you, almost as much as the uncertainty in his voice.

“I mean… after everything that happened to you tonight. I’d hate to think you regretted it or somethin’... So, was this ok?”

He gazed down at you, eyes wide with worry that he may have just crossed the line. How could a powerful Tengu be this damned cute? You shook your head with a smile before planting a sudden kiss on his lips. His voice was muffled against you, but he relaxed into it soon enough.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” he giggled, his body relaxing beneath you once again.

“Hey, does this mean we can do it again!?”

His demeanour had switched to something akin to an excitable puppy, it was just too precious to deny.

“Who am I to say no to such a noble Tengu?”

#bhna fanfiction #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha au

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friendlyheartless · 1 year

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Open RP with Big Belly the Large Body and Flame the Fat Bandit

#big belly the large body #flame fatso the fat bandit #flame the fat bandit #crossovers welcome #large body heartless #fat bandit heartless

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myfatmuses · 2 years

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Azula kept on her March she was in the snow covered mountains now making her way to where the bandit leaderboards last seen the air was so cold she could see her breath it was frigid. Using her flame to stay warm but even those weren't enough to keep her fat body from shaking with the chills.

#muse plays #avatar last airbender #azula #avatar rp #weight gain rp

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keywcilder · 2 years

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@friendlyheartless asked: "Surprise, Sora!" Big Belly the Large Body shouted alongside Flame Fatso the Fat Bandit as they gave Sora a big hug to their jelly bellies.

' oh, hey big belly! how are you guys doing today? ' he hugs his huge jiggly belly as he let out a playful giggle.

#message received ; answered ask #friendlyheartless #v ; post kh3

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mommymooze · 3 years

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Big Girls, Big Hearts

The Golden Deer are devouring their lunch on a sunny fall afternoon. The conversation is lively as they are quite the boisterous bunch. Rumors are spreading about strange things happening in Remire Village. Everyone is working themselves into an anxious state about the perplexing rumors being overheard. Hilda decides it is time to lighten the conversation.

“You know, every year they hold a ball at the Academy. The students get the chance to get to know each other better in a more friendly environment and its sort of a reward for working so hard as well as a possible way to find future partners.” She grins widely.

“A ball?” you ask. “With dressing up and dancing? I’m a commoner. It’s only for nobles, right?”

Hilda scoffs. “No silly! It’s for everyone! Dancing and romancing! Time to find love and intrigue, hugs and kisses.”

“Um, this is an optional event, right?” You ask nervously. You’ve never been to a ball. Never had to learn to dance. You would rather beat up 500 bandits than go to a single ball.

“Come on (y/n) . You are the bravest person I know. What’s so scary about a little dance? Getting to hold a special someone in your arms for a bit, maybe even a kiss in the moonlight…Ooooh so exciting!” Hilda clasps her hands together daydreaming wistfully.

“Maybe I can catch the plague by then.” You grumble at your empty plate in front of you.

“No! Don’t even think that. We are going to get you ready and dressed up and you will not believe how beautiful you will look.” Hilda stomps her foot at you.

“Yeah, like putting lipstick on a pig, but with fat swollen lips because I’m allergic to it.” You further groan.

“Pish Posh! We can accentuate your good qualities yet keep you comfortable. I may let you wear shoes with less than 3 inch heels even.” Hilda puts her finger on her chin plotting further ways of dressing you up.”

“Balls are for petite cute girls like you and Marianne. My arms are like tree trunks. I am bulgy and lumpy. Not a sweet and delicate flower such as yourself.” You moan on, hoping she gives up soon.

Hilda puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, I can be a delicate flower. I also wield an axe just like you. Those things are heavy and take strength to swing around. Yes, I will admit to having a few muscles. Not everyone wants a delicate maiden that falls over from the slightest breeze. Some want a good hunk of warm and loving body to squeeze them back until they can’t breathe. Everyone knows you are incredibly strong. Didn’t I hear about you carrying Dedue to the infirmary not that long ago? I bet Felix or Sylvain couldn’t do it at all, but you just whisked him up and hauled him across the monastery like he was a little kid and ran him up the stairs to the infirmary.”

You blush furiously. “What was I supposed to do? I walked into the greenhouse just as he slipped on the wet rocks and he was knocked out. I couldn’t just leave him there.” You are hiding your face in your hands, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Hilda laughs. “(Y/n), We watched you carry him bridal style running to the infirmary. I heard that when he found out he blushed for a half hour straight.!”

You want to crawl under the table, settling for crossing your arms and burying your face in them.

Hilda tugs your arm, “We are hitting up the dressmaker in town. Gonna get you a killer dress, show off those muscular toned abs and legs, and get you set up for the night of your life.”

“Nightmare of my life more like.” You mumble to yourself.

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

The battle at Remire is terrifying. Thomas turns into a really creepy ghosty old guy. The Flame Emperor shows up being threatening. The worst part is the villagers. They are going crazy killing everything, even their own families. They didn’t know they are attacking their own loved ones, their own friends. The Deer try so hard to rescue as many villagers as possible. You work to subdue as many of the possessed ones you can. They are still someone’s family and hopefully the madness is temporary. When the battle is over you look at the village, not much is left of it. The smell of smoke and burnt everything is thick in the air, choking everyone, making their eyes burn. Finally, after the cleanup is done and all the villagers are treated for injuries, it is time to head back to the monastery.

The Golden Deer are unusually quiet as they silently march back to the monastery. Even Hilda is quiet after what she had seen. Ignatz makes his way over to you as the group keeps walking back to the academy.

“You ok?” He softly whispers to you.

You take your sleeve and wipe the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, I just got a lot of smoke in my eyes there. Thanks.” You mumble back, hanging your head a bit lower than it was before.

It is a long walk back. Everyone finally makes it into the monastery gates and the group splits up, everyone going their own direction.

Claude takes you aside. “Are you going to be okay? I’d be happy to chat if you want to. The professor is a great listener too.” He says with a look of concern in his eyes.

You don’t know where your tears are coming from now. They haven’t stopped since you were in Remire village. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Professor Byleth comes over and puts her arm around your shoulder, leading you to her room. She pulls out a tea set and prepares tea.

“You know I lost my parents in a fire. Watching the village burn brought the whole thing back.” You stare down into your teacup.

“I’m sorry.” Byleth responds. Her face is not extremely expressive, but you can tell she is being very sympathetic from her body language.

“Do you think I can talk to Seteth about helping them out some? Isn’t this something like what the church would do? It is so late in the year and many of them don’t have secure homes to live in.” You ask, the tears slowing.

“My father and I spent a lot of time at that village. That was where the church found us. I will talk to him as well.” Byleth nods.

You return to your room to try to sleep after such a nightmarish week.

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

The next morning you check with Seteth about assisting the village. You find that he has already spoken with Captain Jeralt and Lady Rhea feels that this is an excellent idea. After a few days of gathering supplies and materials, a small caravan heads out to Remire. Professor Byleth, the Golden Deer, Shamir, Jeralt and all his former mercenaries who had been incorporated into battalions, Alois and some of the Knights of Seiros, and surprisingly, Dimitri and Dedue.

The town elders meet with your group, discussing their wants and needs. Repairs to the structures that are salvageable should begin quickly. Tasks are divided between those that are experts in certain areas assisted by warm bodies that can lift, move or hand things to others. Ignatz is working on a map of the to be reconstructed village. Since assistance has arrived so quickly, there are fewer residents that will be leaving for other towns, happily staying now that they have some support. Everyone has something they can do. Cutting trees, clearing branches, gathering wood and kindling, sifting through burnt houses for useful items that can be salvaged like utensils, plates, and tools. The young go with the old to fields gathering heather, reeds, and straw for thatching the roofs.

You start with gathering salvaged bricks together to repair buildings. Even Lysithia can carry a few bricks at a time, you tell her 30 are needed at this house, 15 needed here. A few Knights head off to a local riverbank for sand and water to make the mortar. You clean and prepare the bricks, measure the materials and have someone stir the mortar mixture. Soon you find yourself up on a ladder with a full mortarboard spreading an even layer of the compound, then place a brick, lay more mortar between it and the next brick. Starting with the smaller repairs first there are now several restored residences that will keep the wind and weather out.

As the sun goes down, everyone gathers in the center of town around large cauldrons full of soup, together with fresh baked bread made by the residents from the supplies brought by the Academy volunteers. Many of the townspeople are crying thanking everyone for their help. The Knights certainly push that this is by the grace of the goddess and the church. Others are simply happy to help in any way they can.

You grab some soup and take a seat near Dimitri and Dedue. They greet you and welcome your presence.

“I am surprised by your bricklaying knowledge. I had no idea of your talents.” Dimitri smiles.

“My older brother was a bricklayer, I helped him out often when I was growing up. I can’t wait to get my hands on some hammers and nails once the brickwork is complete.” You grin. “I am surprised to find the two of you here.”

“Hey your Princeliness, Dedue, (Y/n). Mind if I join you?” Claude takes a seat next to you. “We really appreciate your help. We did not expect other houses to send anyone.”

“I am very interested to see firsthand the reconstruction after disasters such as this.” The prince says excitedly. “It is wonderous seeing everyone come together with a single mindset of rebuilding. Everyone is helping in so many different manners. The strong are carrying bricks and trees, cutting wood, lifting loads. The weaker are preparing food for everyone, gathering materials and completing more delicate work. I am amazed at how much has been accomplished in just a single day.”

“Agreed. Many hands make light work.” Dedue nods. “I am happy to lend my strength.”

“Both of you are certainly welcomed with open arms. There is plenty of heavy lifting to do.” Smiles Claude. “I hope we can replace a few homes before we leave. Talking with the elders, there are some families doubled up in the same house. At least if each family has their own place it would be much more pleasant making it through winter.”

“Another important thing is to provide these people support and comfort.” You softly speak. “Let them know there are others out here who care for you as your fellow man. I do not know any of these people, but I do know about losing things to disaster. People that had no idea who I was helped me, kept me going when my life was crushed by disaster. Now here I am, helping out someone else that I have no idea as to who they are. I just want to help them. I hope it keeps them going as well.”

Dedue nods and smiles. The two house leaders agree that this is a great learning experience for everyone. You take the empty dishes leaving them to chat amongst themselves and head over to Byleth who is sitting with her father and their former mercenaries.

“Byleth, Jeralt. I wanted to thank you personally for helping bring this together. It didn’t sit right with me leaving these people behind and in such a ruined state.” You say, a smile finally crossing your lips.

“If Seteth would have said one word about not helping with this I would have punched that ‘No’ right off of his face.” Jeralt laughs. Byleth smiles. “This is a great learning experience for everyone. I think all of the classes should complete a project like this. Hands on learning is the most practical. Even Lorenz is finding some hidden talents as a result of this experience. I think he has a greater respect for Leonie too. That girl can turn a pile of trash into 100 different useful things.”

After dinner there’s not enough light to work on building without making it dangerous. So you decide to knit a sock or two. That way you can talk to everyone and when you’re done, someone has a new pair of socks. Win-win! There is plenty of chatter to go around the campfires with everyone in the village telling interesting stories of its history, or funny residents who did silly things, famous village romances or deeds. They also share stories of when the Blade Breaker came to town to save or help them. Being in a village isn’t all peace and quiet. There were some exciting and spicy tales shared until the cobwebs filled everyone’s heads and it was time to sleep.

The next day is just as busy with more homes being made whole by the end of the day. Construction is started on two different houses. One for a larger family, one for a smaller. Everyone gives their all in some way or another. Gathering kindling, firewood, food, finding the animals that were scattered by the calamity. Suddenly Saturday morning arrives, the last day the group from Garreg Mach will stay for rebuilding. What a difference everyone has made! Every family in Remire has their own place to stay without having to share. There are a long row of stalls for wares in the new Marketplace. There is even a barn and stable to keep horses for the community. Firewood is stored to keep the homes warm. It is everything the smaller village needs to get them through the winter. There is a celebration in the village center and tears are shed. However, these are all tears of joy as new friendships have been forged and the feeling of a job well done can be left with the people. The march back to the monastery is full of high spirits and happy hearts.

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

Back at the monastery you look forward to a warm bath and sleeping in your own bed. Just as you’ve changed into your nightgown there is a knock on the door.

“Um, I was just about to go to sleep. Can we talk tomorrow?” you anxiously respond to the knock as you stand at the door.

“It’s just me.” Says Hilda. “Come on. We’ve got some girl talk to do.”

You roll your eyes as the chipper pink ponytailed girl comes bouncing in your dorm.

“You haven’t forgotten the ball now, have you?” She winks.

“Oh yeah, that.” You stammer. You kinda sorta did forget.

“Tomorrow we’re going to town and getting a dressmaker to take your measurements. I know exactly what you need to wear.” She bubbles out excitedly. “I think you would be adorable in yellow. I saw the most darling shimmery satin material that would make you look like a princess.”

“A muscular, big shouldered princess.” You whine.

“Girl, you have no idea how to work with what you have, and you have a lot going for you.” Hilda smirks. “Now, I’ve been thinking. I know that you can’t wear lipstick, but I was hoping you can do some lip gloss. It has different things that go into it. Some are even flavored. Have you ever tried any?”

“Um. No.” You shrug sheepishly.

“Great! Hold still now.” Hilda has you in her grip as she plunks you down in your chair and starts carefully applying some gloss to your lips. “There. How is it?”

You mush your lips together. They aren’t tingling or stinging. They don’t feel like they are getting fat. She pulls your mirror from your dresser to show you your lips.

“They’re just shiny.” You say, looking confused.

“Shiny is healthy. Gloss makes your lips slippery. It’s really good for you in the winter. When the cold air hits them, they stay soft and won’t peel. Your lips are really pretty. They’ll be lined up around the building wanting to get a turn to kiss those cute shiny lips.” The pinkette grins.

“But this is a dance. Where is the kissing coming from? Do I have to? I’m so confused.” You plunk back down on your chair with a big frown.

“Listen and listen good. Pretty soon we’re going to graduate, everyone is going to go their own way and you’re my friend and I’m just trying to help you get the most out of life. The ball isn’t just a celebration for nobles. It’s a chance to get to know the other students better in a different environment, a casual and fun environment. So many people have met the love of their life at this very same Academy event! Who knows what will happen on that glorious evening? The magic is calling for you, I can hear it!”

You look at her like she has two heads.

“Come on! Loosen up! I told you I will get you through this. Let’s start with the dance lessons. If you are dancing with a guy, he’s supposed to lead. If you dance with a girl, then either of you can lead, just agree who is to lead before you start. So I am going to lead. That means you put your left hand on my shoulder on the same side, and put your right hand into my palm on the other.” She grabs your hand and waits for you to put the other on her shoulder. “Good. Now don’t stomp on my feet, you have socks on, so put your toes on mine so you can follow me. The lead person is going to take their right foot and step forward, since you are following, you take a step back on your left foot. You will be moving backwards mostly, so the lead person watches to make sure you don’t crash into anyone…” Hilda goes through the basics of the box step for the waltz. You don’t quite crush her toes, and just maybe you do get the hang of it a bit. She tells you to look at her face, don’t look down. Stop looking down. Looking down will mess you up. You crash and fall over on the bed laughing once and she makes you get up and try again.

“Enough for your first lesson. You did great.” Hilda smiles. “So tomorrow after breakfast, we hit the dress shop.”

You yawn, “Sure…” and wave as you see her out the door. You would have bad dreams about going to the ball and stomping on everyone’s feet, but you’re too tired to even do that and actually just have a good night’s rest.

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

After breakfast Hilda practically drags you to town.

“Maybe I should just wear pants.” You grumble.

“Come on, you would look so cute!” She giggles.

“Cute is a bunny or a baby chick. I feel more like a silly goose.” You whine.

She hauls you into the dressmakers where a tall redheaded woman with a lowcut red dress assists you. “Hello dahlings.” She greets you at the door. Hilda curtseys, so you do too.

“Madame Palmyre, I’ve brought you another beauty in need of a dress for the ball.” Hilda proclaims.

“Hmmm. Hmmmm. Well. Athena. Hmmmm. No, Artemis! With the shoulders of Atlas. Oooooh. Yes.” Madame coos and ahhs as she walks around you touching your shoulders, lifting your head, raising your arms. “We must measure, quickly!” and shuffles you to the back where you are hastily stripped to your undergarments.

Madame’s hands work at a fast pace. She’s put special strings around various parts of your body, writing numbers down. Hilda stands next to her and they chitter and chatter with each other for a while. You decide to put your clothes back on.

“Lovelies, I shall have it ready two days before the ball. She will be magnifique!” Madame Palmyre raises her right hand with a flourish and a wide smile.

Hilda drags you to the cobbler to see what sort of shoes would be best. You glance at the boots longingly.

“No. “The Goneril girl shakes her head. “Cute. Not clunky.”

“Hilda, I have feet shaped like a duck.” You groan.

“Come on, work with me.” Hilda finally finds the shoes she is looking for. “Check this out. There is almost no heel, the toe is rounded but the way it is made, it gives you room for your wider foot to be comfy. Still cute!”

You look at the shoes, then at your friend. “I know you know what you are doing. I am so clueless. Just promise me I won’t want to cut off my feet by the end of the ball and I will wear whatever you want me to.”

“Gotcha, fam!” Hilda smiles as she puts in the order. The cobbler takes your measurements and says they will be ready next Sunday.

Hilda takes you to the final store of the day, which is great because this is really getting confusing and exhausting and overwhelming.

“Hey Mattie!” Hilda greets the owner. “We’re here for lipgloss and earrings.”

“But I don’t have pierced ears.” You look at her puzzled.

Hilda grins. “You will.”

You are a brave girl in battle. You fight and punch bad guys in the face. Intentionally letting someone stab holes in your ears is a whole different story. You were brave when they created the first hole and stuck the earring through. But when they stabbed your other ear with the needle, the needle that kept getting bigger the more you looked at it, the tears were shooting out of your eyes like rain.

“It’s done, its done. You’re fine! Look! So pretty!” Hilda is patting you on the back showing you the mirror. Mattie gives instructions to turn the earrings frequently and keep them clean. They should be well healed by the time of the ball. She helps you pick out some mint and honey flavored lip gloss.

You feel exhausted and overwhelmed. Not even fresh treats from the bakery tempt you. You just want to go back and hide. And maybe punch out a Duscur bear. Do something more familiar and relaxing.

That night you can’t sleep well. You always sleep on your side and no matter how you crunched up or mauled your pillow it still hurt your ears. You are going to die from lack of sleep long before the night of the ball. That is a welcome end, you think to yourself.

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

The next morning, dark circles hang heavily below your sleep deprived eyes, you barely make it to class in time. Lysithia notices something different as soon as she comes into the room.

“Your ears are pierced. That is so cute! I’ve been thinking about it. I may do that too some day.” The white haired girl muses.

“Hey (Y/n), Lysithia! Look who has more holes in her head! Just kidding.” Claude says as he taps his own earring while looking at yours.

Hilda strolls into the classroom followed by Marianne. They come to sit beside you.

“My ears are killing me. You better take good notes. I am going to sleep through class.” You warn the mischievous pinkette.

“And you’ll be cute doing it too. Yes, sometimes beauty can be painful, but it will go away soon.” Hilda tries to reassure you.

“I wish I could use magic on it, but it might make your earrings stick to your ears.” Marianne comments looking at her hands.

You rest your hands on your books and your chin on your hands. Nothing is touching your ears and you fall asleep before Hanneman comes in and starts his lecture about crests.

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

The excitement surrounding the ball continues. Your stomach starts to twist in knots every time you hear the word “Ball”. You have your new shoes and Hilda makes you practice dancing in them and walking around your room in them so they are broken in enough to not hurt you on the night of the..you know.

Hilda drags you to town the Sunday before the ball to get a fitting for your dress. She’s being a real stinker, because she makes you wear a blindfold so you can’t see it. It comes with a special bustier, lifting your bust to be plump like a partridge (Madame Palmyre’s words). You had no idea what a bustier is in the first place. They picked and primped on you for a few minutes and then took the dress away, letting you get back into your comfy clothes. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, but you certainly wouldn’t battle in the dress, you chuckle to yourself.

Hilda continues with dancing practice. Marianne joins so you can observe them dancing as well. Marianne, the best dancer in the Deer glides gracefully across the floor. You feel like you are stomping around like a moose with four left feet. You are getting better though, you hardly step on Hilda’s feet any longer.

Soon, too soon, the fateful day arrives. The ball is this evening. They have classes in the morning so that everyone can get ready or in your case, panic in the afternoon. You just know you have a fever, you’re sick to your stomach. You should go to the infirmary so they can pronounce you on the brink of death and give a written note excusing you from the…the thing. Class finally ends, before you can escape, Hilda, Annette, and Dorothea grab you and physically take you to Hilda’s room for hairstyling and makeup. You try to excuse yourself because you forgot your lipgloss, but they are on to you and will not let you go. You have no idea how they can fit so many females in the same room and still have room to work on them all. You hope you can escape when getting lunch, but no, they are too evil and have lunch brought in for everyone.

“(Y/n), I have the perfect jewelry to match your look.” Hilda giggles. She holds up gold crescent moon earrings, bracelet, and a matching necklace. Many “oohs” and “ahhs” are heard from the others. The stones in the bracelet are perfect, they are a pale yellow and black, matching the colors of the dress. Hilda sends you off to your room with Annette and Dorothea to get you into your dress. The songstress shows you how to put on the sheer and dotted with gold sparkles thigh high stockings without ripping them, teaching you how to fasten them to the garter belt. They adjust the lacing of the bustier so that you can breathe easily and move, yet your bust is enhanced, which is quite embarrassing, but then you look over at Dorothea and she’s super enhanced and ready to spill over the top of hers any second. Finally they help you lift and pull the dress on. Soft yellow chiffon at the top, gathered under the bust into its empire waist. A black airy stretchy panel starts there and goes to the bottom of the dress, flaring out a bit. The front is just past your knees, the back a few inches above your ankles. It visually pulls your waist in. Dorothea has that perfect hourglass figure with a waist so tiny that you could almost enclose it with your hands. You have much more um, meat, around your waist, the muscles alone make you twice as wide as her, but with the black panel it flares so you really do look, dare you think it, feminine. You thought the slightly puffy sleeves would make your shoulders bigger, but they just give you more freedom of movement. This is the most comfortable and beautiful dress you have ever worn. Madame is a magician.

Dorothea nearly has tears in her eyes. “Our baby looks all grown up.” She sniffles.

“Wow.” Declares Annette. “I need to meet this seamstress. She really knows her stuff. Its like you’ve been magically transformed. If I didn’t know it was you under there (y/n) I would say it was a different person.

“Come on, you are going to make me cry.” You were emotional before, but seeing the whole outfit, you do feel like the princess Hilda wanted you to look like.

Suddenly it is time for everyone to head to the ball. Many of the women head off to meet their dates. Hilda and her date, Marianne, look adorable together. They have the same purple flowers in their hair and their dresses complement each other perfectly. They walk with you toward the sound of music playing. The students are filing into the large room for the dance, the variety of colors and styles are striking. Everyone looks so beautiful.

You wander over to where the Golden Deer have congregated on the side of the room. Raphael is wearing a shirt that fits across his chest, although his muscles in his arms still look like they are about to burst through the sleeves.

“Hey, (y/n). Glad to see ya. You sure look pretty.” Raphael grins. You take it as an amazing compliment, he usually only notices food.

Ignatz is nervously pulling at his collar. “I haven’t been to a Ball before. The monastery really went all out for this. The food, decorations, and presentation are a work of art.”

The house leaders are called to the front accompanied by Hilda, Hubert, and Mercedes. They perform a special dance together that includes changing partners. Of course, Claude has to ham it up by dipping Edelgard who is a bit shocked but recovers well from the unexpected move. The special dance ends and the surrounding students now fill the dance floor.

Leonie sits next to you with a plate of appetizers and sweets. “Go grab some food, (y/n). They have some amazing things on the banquet tables. I tried this gray stuff, it’s delicious.”

You quickly shake your head. “My stomach is so jittery. I’ll stick with apple juice.” You weakly smile as you take a sip.

Looking to the left, there is an anxious Lysithia trying to drag a dressed-up Cyril out to the dance floor. You laugh because he looks more nervous than you. Hilda has Marianne out on the floor, the couple gliding along smoothly like the floor is made of ice. Annette is smiling widely as Ashe is guiding her safely around the other couples. They look too cute.

“Ahem! (Y/n)” you suddenly hear a male standing next to you, breaking you from your trance.

You jump a little in your seat to see the Prince of Faerghus bowing low and asking you for a dance.

You stand up and stammer, “Oh, yes. Thank you.” You place your right hand into his left as he leads you among the dancing couples. Hilda’s dance practice pays off as you have yet to stomp on the Blue Lions leader’s feet or trip over your own. You chat about how happy he is having participated in the rebuilding of Remire and how some day he will rebuild Duscur as well. Just as the song ends, he bends closer to your ear.

“I think Dedue would like to have a dance with you as well. He is a bit shy, but if you wait patiently close by him he may gather enough courage to ask you, unless of course you ask him first.” Dimitri smiles as your face turns completely red.

You can feel the burn of the blush all the way to the back of your neck. You curtsey as the song ends and he leaves to find another partner. You just happen to be close to where Dedue is standing, the tall man is against the wall, his hands behind his back, eyes flitting from couple to couple. You decide to stand not far from the Duscur male.

Watching the students dance, Claude pulls Professor Byleth out onto the floor. You laugh at the shocked look on her face. Balthus is dancing with Manuela. He has a grin from ear to ear as he twirls her around, making her laugh. Perhaps this is what everyone needs, to have a night to forget about their problems and issues going on and simply enjoy themselves, if just for a little while. You find yourself swaying with the music as you look over at Dedue who takes a step towards you.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” Dedue asks softly, smiling pleasantly.

“Yes. I was not looking forward to it, however now that I am here it is nice. It is good to see our friends simply being happy.“ You answer him. “Would you like to dance?”

Dedue bows, “It would be my honor.” He says, taking your hand in his.

He is so incredibly tall. The top of your head is well below his shoulders. You have to crane your neck to look into his face, but it is worth it to see his gentle smile.

The white haired man looks down at you, “You are small.”

You nod as you smile, trying not to laugh because compared Dedue, absolutely everyone is small.

Dedue continues, “You are very strong.”

You blush, mashing your forehead into his chest. This giant man just said you were strong.

He is not finished. “And cute.”

Your ears are burning because you are blushing so hard. You’ve never been cute before. You’re having a hard time looking into his eyes while you are blushing so hard, so you decide to focus your sight on his strong handsome chin. Breathe, don’t forget to breathe.

“You have many wonderful talents. Not only fighting and helping Dimitri.” You tell Dedue, daring to look in his eyes again. “In the village I was impressed by your construction skills. Your assistance helped us complete more buildings than we had originally planned. Thank you.”

You both smile at each other as you continue to dance for the rest of the song, as it ends, you curtsey, he bows.

Before you take one step toward exiting the dance floor, Claude mysteriously appears behind you, taking your right hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand.

“May I have this dance, my Deer?” Claude smiles widely at you.

“I cannot say no to our Leader-man. That would be against the rules. Not that you pay much attention to rules, Claude.” You laugh as you place your left hand upon his shoulder.

Dancing with Dimitri and Dedue had been proper and elegant. Their steps carefully measured, in perfect time with the music. Dancing with Claude is like holding on to a leaf in a whirlwind. You moved up, then down back then right then spun and twirled. One time he had spun you around you thought he was trying to fling you into the middle of the orchestra. You think it strange, then funny, then you begin to laugh. He twirls you away from him, then pulls you to twirl the opposite way around toward him, your chest lightly crashing into his as you laugh together.

His steps suddenly fall back in with the tempo of the music, you following. Your laughter calming, you gasp a bit as you are slightly out of breath, and dancing very closely with Claude. You feel his right arm around you, his fingers close to the center of your back, his chest is warm against you.

“Hilda told me that if I play my cards right that I might get to dance with a beautiful princess tonight.” Claude purrs softly in your ear. “I think I have a winner here.”

You blush profusely, trying to look away from his dazzling emerald eyes and failing. Claude’s grin is as wide as you have ever seen it. Suddenly the music concludes. The orchestra takes a brief break.

He bows and you curtsey back.

“Thank you, princess (y/n).” Claude Grins.

“Thank you, Duke von Riegan.” You smile.

Hilda runs up to drag Claude off to gossip about who knows what as you grab a seat and catch your breath. You will have to honestly thank Hilda for making you go to this. You catch your breath in the quiet during the orchestra’s break. Your heart has simmered down after beating at such an excited rate for so long.

You glance about the room. Looking left you see the orchestra has returned, preparing to begin, to your right you see two different redheaded gentlemen headed your direction. Oh my…

#fe3h #Fire Emblem Three Houses #feth #fe3h x reader #golden deer #fe16 #claude von riegan #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dedue

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