The Heart of a God - a Minecraft Herobrine x Reader story

A Bit Less Afraid

You looked up into the sky and saw the beautiful sunset. You saw Steven setting up the tent he had packed. You put your bag next to the unfinished tent. You stretched and Steven told you to get firewood.

The both of you had walked until the sun started to go down. Your feet hurt and your legs ached and you were glad for the break for the night. You grabbed an axe from your bag and set off into the dark forest. It was oddly quiet, but you were glad you didn't see any Mobs as you searched for fallen wood.

You found enough to fill your arms and you started to head back until you tripped on something you couldn't see. Dropping the wood, you fell without being able to catch yourself. Your forehead slammed into the ground and you felt dizzy and saw stars. You sat up quickly and tried to pick the wood back up, but your head pounded and you swayed. You tried to stand up with the bundle, but you slipped on a patch of grass and fell backwards down a hill.

You rolled down the particularly large hill and stopped at the bottom. Your head spun and you felt like throwing up. You forced yourself to sit up and look around. The wood was scattered around you and some broke from the fall. You slowly started to pick it back up, trying to watch where you put your feet. You attempted to ignore the headache you gave yourself. You worried that you were taking too long to get back to camp.

You stumbled towards the hill, but it proved to be nearly impossible to get up. The hill was too steep and you couldn't possibly climb it without using both hands. You would have to abandon the wood, which took long enough to get and you didn't want to look for more. You sighed and tried to figure out what to do. Maybe there was a path around the side? Before you could do anything, however, you heard a shuffle behind you.

You whipped around, your axe at the ready. You scanned the area, but couldn't see anything in the dark. Your breathing quickened and your heart pounded in your ears. You backed up from wherever you thought the noise came from. The silence made the sound of your rushing blood maddening. You tried to calm down your breathing. You could hear another pattern of breathing behind you. Your eyes widened and your body went rigid.

"Do you need help?" a familiar voice rung out.

You whipped around and almost fell over again, holding your axe in front of you. You stumbled but caught yourself, looking towards the visitor. Herobrine's gaze met yours and you fought the urge to run away. You both stared at each other before Herobrine cleared his throat.

"Do you need help?" he asked again.

You squinted at him and looked around paranoidly. Were you dreaming? Was he really here? Your hands started to shake as your eyes tried to avoid his. You didn't know what to say or do. What could you do? A murderer was standing right in front of you offering help, how were you supposed to react? You shook your head and tried to clear your mind. Was this real?

"Are you alright, y/n?" he said.

Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes shot back to him. Your hands shook as you held out your axe, beads of sweat forming on your back and neck. You took a step back to feel more comfortable.

"How...do you know my name?" you spat out, struggling to raise your voice.

His eyes flickered and you just wished there was some semblance of an emotion on his face. His face seemed so empty and overtaken by the harsh light of his eyes. He appeared so indifferent and apathetic as he stood there, motionless. His hands were stuffed into his pants pockets and his hair stuck out at odd angles. You could hardly see his face, but whatever you could see was completely stoic. The fact that this was not a dream struck you like a train.

"It's...written on your bag." he said quietly.

The tension in the atmosphere was strong. Herobrine's stance was awkward and tense. You could see the stiffness in his body as he stood in front of you, unblinking. You examined his body language, his stiff back and shoulders giving away his discomfort. He appeared unarmed, even in the magic sense.