#Like a Deer Thirst for Water

[bookkats]

Dec 18th Jesus as Emmanuel

Dec 18th Jesus as Emmanuel

Justice Mercy & Light Extended Advent Jesus as Emmanuel Matthew 1:18-25Psalm 23:1-4 (or 23:4)Psalm 42:1-2 Advent Candles Liturgy Call to WorshipGod, we long for you to be with usGod be with usGod we can almost taste your presenceCome let us celebrate the Prince of Peace Coming  Call to Confession: God knows us and loves us. Come let us confess ourselves to God.  Confession: God, sometimes it…

[cozykali]

Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

[sunshine-sunni]

heyy can i ask for virgin!ghost having his first time with reader? ty💗

Non-non, I want you to know I tried to sleep but every time I closed my eyes I thought about this.

-🌤Tags: Afab, nsfw, p in v, over-eager Simon

Your feet stumble backward as Simon takes an aching steps forward, pushing you against the wall. His rough hands explore your mouth watering body, gripping and squeezing any soft flesh he can find. Your lips collide in a frenzied kiss, teeth clashing as you both moan with unbridled lust.

Simon's strong hands wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His hips thrust eagerly against your midriff, each movement accompanied by a grunt that turns into a fussy whimper as his lips meet yours. He's unable to control himself as he ruts away, the bulge of his cock rubbing against your belly button.

Your breaths come in short gasps as you try to speak, but Simon is too lost in his pleasure to hear you. He grinds against you sloppily, his movements wild and desperate. The sound of his heavy pants echoes through the room, the pitch rising with each passing second.

“Si…” You whisper again, this time louder as you place a hand on his chest. It seems to snap him out of his trance, his eyes meeting yours with a teary gaze. A wet spot had already formed on the front of his pants, evidence of his unbridled desire. “Simon, it's not a race.” Your voice is filled with concern and a hint of teasing frustration at his lack of control. His movements slow to a halt as he looks at you, still panting heavily and struggling to regain his composure.

“‘M sorry.” Simon mumbles between bated breaths.

“It's alright, dovie.” You whisper tenderly, cupping Simon's face in your hands. You wipe away any stray tears that escape his eyes, a result of his built-up sexual frustrations. You press a loving kiss to his lips, electing a desperate groan from him.

“Come on, I'm sure the bed is more comfortable.” You say softly, pushing yourself away from the wall and taking him by the hand. Simon follows obediently, his head bowed low like a scolded puppy.

You can't help but chuckle at his demeanor; he's clearly thrilled at the thought of being alone with you and away from work. This would be the furthest you've gone in your relationship aside from the occasional foreplay and groping touches, and clearly, he's ecstatic about it.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Simon wastes no time, stripping out of his clothes with such swiftness that it surprises you. He's impatient, needy, and completely enamored by you. Now naked, his chiseled form stands out amid the dim light, muscles reflecting the weight of his job while the leaky head of his cock announcing his thirst.

He reaches for you, his hands craving to be anchored to your very being, but you push him away, making him growl in frustration. “Not yet, need a johnny.” You remind him as you too begin to get naked.

“Don't need one.” He grumbles out.

“And why not?”

For a moment, there's no answer; only the sound of his heavy breathing as he watches your heavenly body be laid bare to his eyes. His mouth waters as he burns the naked image of you into his mind, never wanting to forget this view.

“Are you gonna answer me, Si?” You turn to look at him and in an instant, he pushes you onto the bed and forces himself between your legs, gazing down at what would be his downfall: your wet and succulent cunt waiting for his ownership. Simon tries to bully his way inside, but you shut your thighs close before he can even try. He meets your gaze with a look of absolute betrayal on his face.

“Do you even know what you're doin’?” You ask, tilting your head curiously.

Simon freezes, almost like a deer caught in headlights, a pink flush creeping up his neck. “I've seen…in videos,” he admits through clenched teeth.

Your lips curve into a hum of amusement as you cautiously open your legs again and watch him for any impulsive moves. “Well, you can't just rush in.” You reach down and grip his cock firmly, bringing it towards your dripping entrance. “Slowly.”

Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as his cock enters you, thick and full, stretching you wide with each inch. Simon's mouth falls open and his eyes close, focusing on tightness surrounding him.

It's everything he wanted and more.

His excitement takes over, and with an abrupt, strong thrust, he buries himself completely, causing you to gasp in both pleasure and pain. But Simon doesn't seem to notice; he's already lost in the sensation, drooling with delight as a tingling buzz of electricity runs up his spine.

“Ohh… fuck,” Simon moans, thrusting uncontrollably, not giving you a moment to adjust.

You feel incredible. This is what he has been missing out on - pure bliss.

Simon's movements are rough and uncoordinated, hitting spots that you didn't know existed, causing you to occasionally grit your teeth in discomfort but also moan with pleasure.

“Simon, please slow down,” you manage to call out, gripping onto his forearms as he pounds against you.

But he doesn't hear you.

Simon's too focused on the feeling of your pussy around his cock, the wet squelching only adding to his satisfaction. And when he does open his eyes, it's not to look at you but rather at the sight of your stretched and swollen cunt under his relentless act.

You are perfect, your pussy is perfect. His hips are moving, but what about his hands? How does he use them? As he finally looks at your face, his brown eyes beg for help, as if he wasn't just ravishing you without any concern.

You huff with annoyance and briefly consider turning him away after he forced himself onto you. But those brown eyes... how can you resist him? With a roll of your eyes, you take his hands and place them on your breasts. "There, just play with them."

Simon pauses, his large hands exploring and squeezing your breasts to his liking, watching as your mouth falls open in moans.

Ahh... now he's getting it.

Simon begins to thrust again, this time not only focused on his own pleasure but also yours. He rolls and squeezes your breasts until your nipples stand up prettily. He leans down, pressing your breasts together and eagerly suckles and licks on your nipples, with a hint of roughness.

You're seeing stars now.

His length hits a spot deep inside you while his tongue wets your nipples, sucking and making popping sounds as he moves between both tasks.

While Simon's thrusts are still awkward, there is no more pain now as he learns what makes you tighten around him even more. "Am I doing good?" he asks in muffled words, lips sucking hard on one nipple while his eyes plead for praise.

You can only nod, unable to form any words beneath him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you until his tip reaches your cervix.

This spurs him on even further; the look in his eyes is intense, a burning flame only meant for you. Simon lets go of your breasts, interlocking his fingers with yours as he kisses you sloppily yet passionately, your tongues tangling together in a way he notices sends you into another tight clench. He takes note of this, kissing you even harder, the speed of his hips increasing as your bodies merge in a flurry of skin slapping against skin.

As your stomach tightens and your legs tremble, you know an orgasm is inevitable. "Si-" You gasp, pulling away from his lips. Simon silences you with a kiss, whispering, "Shh... I know."

He feels it, too. He wants it, too. He wants you to climax all over his cock. And you want nothing more than to give it to him. After all, it's his first time, and it's only fair that he gets his loves slick all over him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as your bodies meld together in a warm embrace. Simon's close, too. He has been holding back since he entered you, savoring the feeling of being inside you for as long as possible. But with you beneath him, willing to give into his selfishness, how can he resist any longer?

He's on the edge, his hips starting to betray him. So he holds onto you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rolls his hips out one last time before slamming back in and filling you with his hot cum.

"Simon!" You cry out in pleasure as your own orgasm washes over you, mixing with his inside of you.

In the aftermath, there is only silence apart from the sound of your heavy breathing. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, mixed with the musky aroma of Simon's cologne. It's almost suffocating, but in the most exhilarating way

Neither of you moves or speaks until you break the silence. "You did good, big guy," you praise sweetly, running your fingers through his hair.

But Simon grumbles at that; he doesn't want to just be good. He wants to be better for you. "Let's change that," he states huskily, pressing feather-light kisses to your neck and collarbone, already hardening inside of you for round two.

"Fuck." You moan as he starts moving again.

🌤 Ty for the request, I have sm more, but it's hard to come up with ideas.

P.S. This wasn't proofread

[sigweiner]

Saccharine Dreams P.2

Pairing: Billie Eilish/ Fem!reader

Word Count: 1746

Summary: You’re awakened from a deep sleep by your very needy {horny} girlfriend.

Warnings!: Smut, swearing and very explicit content.

a/n: Here is part 2, hope you like it! English is not my first language, sorry for the weird punctuation and sentences.

Part 1 here

The room was bathed in blue shadows when she called your name warmly, turning all that is hard around you tender. You respond with a kiss on her shoulder. A looming reluctance seems to be growing in her with the way she holds your hand over her swift beating heart. As if you could say no to any of her requests. As if you wouldn't be the water to quench her thirst or the fire to illuminate her path.

She turns around and kisses you sweetly. You are magnetically pulled by her delectable nature once more, complacent in her willingness to desire you. She flushes her naked lower body against yours and you can't resist the urge to buck your hips against hers, suddenly feeling like you need your skin to fuse with hers. She cups your face and kisses you harder, pushing you to lay on your back.

Billie straddles your legs and you take the opportunity to admire her bare lower half without reticence, your hands finding their familiar spot on her toned thighs. She makes a show of slowly lifting your shirt up past your chest, massaging your breasts while grinding down on your hips. A soft moan slips from your lips and Billie can't help but grin at you with ulterior intent.

“You're so gorgeous.” She tells you warmly as you start to squirm underneath her. “I really want to taste you… can I?” You blush at her words and your eyes flutter at the thought of her head between your thighs. It doesn’t matter how many times you have been completely vulnerable and naked with each other, her authenticity always manages to get a reaction out of you.

“Y-you don’t have to… if you’re tired or something.” You bite at your lower lip worried this might have gone too far already. You remember she has a big day tomorrow, traveling around the world, doing interviews and promoting her newly released music. She should be resting. Billie chuckles and leans in to kiss the worries out of you, taking her sweet time exploring the soft parts of your mouth with the tip of her tongue.

“I want to. Let me please…” She says quietly when you two part to catch some air. There’s a pause while you try to gather your thoughts again but Billie seems more interested in distracting you with her aventurine gaze. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I- yeah, okay…” You manage to finally say after she bites her lower lip. She smiles at you sweetly but there’s a devious glint in her eyes which usually means she’s planning on doing very filthy things to you. You hold your breath in anticipation.

A tension grows between you so palpable it could cut through the air. Billie takes your hands from her thighs and guides them above your head, stretching your arms until you can feel the headboard. She hovers above you, still staring into your eyes acutely before resuming a reverential osculation of your body. She starts moving down, dragging her hands down your arms, across your chest and stomach until she reaches the hem of your pajama bottoms. Her lengthy dark hair drapes over you, leaving a feather-like impression on your skin.

Billie kisses your hip bones and hooks her fingers on the edge of the silky cloth to start dragging them down your legs casually. She moves slightly out of the way so you can lift your hips to get rid of your shorts. Then you’re automatically opening your legs for her, amenable to her every wish. She smirks at your eagerness and moves between your legs, sprawling her entire body on the bed, looking like she’s about to eat her favorite food.

The brunette kisses your inner thighs nonchalantly as if time was a deity under her spell. And maybe she is in control of all of nature's forces right at that moment, when she is about to unravel your whole existence. A tiny god all in herself. Billie licks a long stripe through your slit and you swear your soul leaves your body. She moans at the taste of you and you can feel it reverberating throughout your existence.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” Her warm breath licks your skin when she speaks and you can't help but buck your hips slightly in the absence of her silky tongue. You whine impatiently.

“Billie…” You start saying but the rest of your words abandon you when your eyes meet hers. The sight of your half naked girlfriend laying on her belly and leaving chaste kisses on your aching center was a surreal vision.

“Yes, pretty girl?” She replies with faked innocence, her eyes never leaving you.

“Please… I thought you wanted to taste me.” You plead with her. Her eyes darken slightly but she manages to maintain composure.

“But I want this to last.” Billie is testing you as usual, trying to control the situation and to get things done her way, even if in the end she'll give you what you want. But then again you have no interest in winning. You are utterly pliant to her ambitions.

“Alright. I'm all yours.” You tell her lovingly. You reach out to caress her cheek and she turns her head to kiss the palm of your hand. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she stares at you intensely, the tenderness of the moment in high contrast with your mutual desire.

“I love you Y/N.” she declares before parting your folds with two fingers and lavishing your straining clit with attention.

“Oh fuck…” Is all you manage to initially say when your girlfriend is finally going down on you. “I- I love you too Billie.” you reciprocate her affection.

Billie smiles lazily at you, licking your aching pussy before turning to rest her cheek on your thigh while sucking on your throbbing bud with half lidded eyes. You almost reach your peak at the sight. She continues her relentless movements only stopping to slide a finger inside of you before resuming the motions with her mouth. You moan loudly not being able to contain your pleasure.

“Didn't you - want this- to last.” You tell her past the haze of your mind. “I won't be able to hold it if you keep up like that.” You try to confess in one breath.

She slows her movements slightly and lifts herself up on her elbow, resting her head on her hand. “I changed my mind… I want to make you come now.” She rasps before thrusting two fingers into your core without warning. You throw your head back, unable to make any sounds. However Billie wastes no time in covering your pussy with her mouth to lick the fire out of you.

With her fluttering gaze never leaving you she kneads at one of your breasts while pumping her deft fingers inside you, alternating between rapid strokes of her tongue and suckling your clit until your legs start trembling uncontrollably. Only then she slows down and halts your impending climax. You are a complete disheveled mess by the fourth time she edges you on and you're pretty sure you can't take it anymore but you do not beg. You will take anything she gives you gladly.

Billie finally takes pity on you and decides she wants to make you come after all. You have no choice but to let yourself be taken to oblivion by the curl of your girl's fingers and the swirl of her velvety tongue. The whole world starts shaking and you're pretty sure the bed has disappeared from underneath you. You contort your entire body when your orgasm strikes you but Billie is able to hold your lower body down with her free arm. She doesn't slow down, determined to make you come over and over again.

A second wave of white heat travels from your cervix to the back of your head and you let out a strangled scream from the intensity of it. You feel your thighs and legs getting soaked as Billie relentlessly pumps her fingers into you. The sheets now ruined by your frenzy, you instinctively try to push her away from your overstimulated core. She seems to be thinking in the opposite direction though so you try to vocalize your protest.

“Baby. I can't anymore… Please.” You're breathing heavily and are not entirely sure she's heard you until she lets go of you. You bury your face on the mattress completely exhausted, closing your legs tightly, turning on your side.

You can barely register Billie's lips ghosting the skin of your legs with tender smooches, your overstimulated senses in overdrive. She kisses a path up your body until she reaches your face, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and kissing away the tears pulled on the outer corner of your eye. You turn to look at her and there's a concerned frown between her eyebrows.

“You okay baby girl?” She asks, hovering above you. You lift your hands to cup her face and bring her in towards your lips. You can taste yourself on her tongue and you hum satisfyingly. “Was I too much?” She ponders.

“I'm okay, t’was just intense.” You finally let out looking at her adoringly. Billie lays down close to you, resting her head on your shoulder and you bring your hand up to stroke her satiny hair. “That was pretty fucking amazing to be honest.” she chuckles at your words. You start to feel your eyelids getting heavy.

“Will you come visit me again? In my dreams I mean…” Billie requests in a small voice. She feels really fragile in your arms at that very moment, holding her doesn't feel enough. You have yet to discover what will ever suffice.

“For sure, anything to spend more time with you…” You promise already slurring your words at the prospect of another unconscious rendezvous.

“Sorry I woke you up…” She whispers drowsily, draping her arm over your bare body. You shake your head slightly.

“You can wake me up like that any time, love.” You tell her half jokingly then you kiss her forehead. Billie's eyes are already closed but she has a smile on her lips and as you watch her seraphic features peacefully back in slumber you slowly start slipping away as well, hoping to find her in the dream helm once more and forever.

[scaredycatqlt]

Some silly platonic headcanons of bill cipher x reader pls?

Oh hell yeah!!! I love my lil AroAce triangle >:3

Bill Cipher X Reader [PLATONIC!]

Alright, well, for starters, how you became friends could vary.

Either you’re some messed up otherworldly creature with a thirst for chaos and destruction like him, or some unsuspecting human. Or maybe you knew what you were doing? Who knows! Bill knows.

Regardless, at first he doesn’t pay you much mind. You’re simply another pawn on the chessboard to him.

He can get bored easy, so he hangs out around you a lot. Not for long, mainly frequent short visits.

He finds you amusing, you and your antics! If you’re a dimensional thing like him, he’s quick to invite you to join him in wrecking havoc. If you’re a human, he’s more still in the ‘I’m better lol’ mindset.

When you guys are finally friends, he will try to convince you to let him possess you. Not all the time! And very infrequently! Come on, won’t you help a pal out?

His love language (PLATONICALLY) is acts of service and gift giving. He’s not an emotional being by any means at all, so this is how he expresses his care for you.

As canonically presented, his gifts are kinda…..messed up.

deer teeth, a eternal screaming head, weird shit in general.

Also with acts of service he totally offers to take care of anything bothering you. Someone annoyed you? He can get rid of them! Don’t you worry your fuzzy little head!

A litttlleeee bit of a platonic yandere but who here’s surprised….

He does a lot of small things for you that you might not notice. Like picking something up, summoning an object, giving you whatever small thing you happen to want at that time, yeah.

If something happened to you he’d probably go crazy ngl.

You’re like his partner in crime!

Also, if you’re human he makes sure you’re taking care of your meat-suit properly.

Have you drank water? Eaten? Slept? Done all the human things?

One last thing, I feel like Bill would love Doritos. I know this kinda doesn’t match the theme, but there used to be this whole ‘Bill hates Doritos they’re his species :(‘ kinda thing and while it is funny, personally I disagree. I think he’d find it hilarious, and probably eat them specifically because they look like him. He’s a little creacher.

Here they are!! Again, sorry it took forever. I’ve been busy with school n shit, but I’m working on these requests one by one.

[fatal-thoughts]

A Lovely Exchange

Telemachus x Servant! Reader

Synopsis: Telemachus already fights off his mother’s suitors, but what if he manages to become one? To… one of the palace’s servants?

warnings: slow burn, flustered Telemachus, puppy love, assault, threats

A/N: This is fluffier than what I usually write, but I couldn't help it. I love him sm wtf

Part 1 of ???

You went about your routines as usual—watering the garden, cleaning the halls, fixing any imperfections in the palace, and even helping other servants when needed.

It wasn’t unusual to see you wandering around the palace; after all, you were the queen’s favorite assistant.

No one really knew why or how you and the queen were so close, not even you. But you knew there were both benefits and drawbacks to it.

Including being a target of the 108 suitors now living under the same roof as you.

As much as you wanted to continue your duties as usual, they never failed to hinder your responsibilities.

You were heading toward the palace dining room. Though it was the last place you wanted to go, you had to pass through it to reach the kitchen to prepare something for the queen—who also refused to set foot in there.

So far, so good, until you stepped into the hallway. The once loud and distracted suitors were now eyeing you.

You swallowed nervously, the lump in your throat growing, but continued forward, treading slowly so as not to attract more attention than you already had.

You made it to the end of the hall, believing you were safe, until you felt someone grab your wrist and pull so hard you almost lost your balance. You looked up and saw one of the queen’s most persistent suitors: Antinous.

The man had a proud smirk on his face as he looked down at you, still holding onto your wrist. He’d made multiple attempts to converse with you, all of which you declined, so you weren’t entirely surprised that he’d resorted to these measures.

"Ah, well, if it isn’t the lovely slave herself.”

That pissed you off.

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, but if you could, you’d have slapped him by now. Instead, you jerked your arm away from him.

But that didn’t stop him. He grabbed you again, this time by the arm, with a much tighter and more painful grip, making you gasp in pain.

“Whoa now, where do you think you’re going? You don’t think you can just run off that easily, do you?” he taunted, leaning closer to your neck, his voice low.

“We want the queen, and since she’s unavailable, I guess we’ll have to settle for you.”

You glanced behind you, noticing all the men in the hall staring at you with intense gazes filled with hunger, desire, and thirst.

Frightened, you hurriedly tried to break free from Antinous’s grip. He chuckled softly, holding you tighter and pulling you closer. You struggled with all your strength until, finally, he let go. But it wasn’t because of your effort.

His gaze had shifted—he was no longer looking at you, but at something, or someone, else.

Backing away from him, you looked behind him and saw none other than the queen’s son, Telemachus.

He was gripping his sword, pointing it at Antinous.

“Leave her alone.”

You were surprised, to say the least. You and Telemachus had never really spoken. He usually avoided you whenever he ran into you.

You never understood why. Every time you saw him, he’d dash away like a startled deer.

But now, here he was, standing in front of you, holding a sword to one of the suitor’s neck.

Antinous raised his hands sarcastically, a smug grin on his face as he glanced between Telemachus and you.

“Alright, I’ll leave her be, little wolf.”

He walked past you, but as he did, he whispered, “Don’t think I’m done with you yet, slave.”

You recoiled instantly as he let out a shameless laugh.

You and Telemachus watched him walk away, and then you quickly exited the dining hall.

Catching your breath, you adjusted your hair and robes, trying to calm yourself. No suitor had ever approached you with such aggression before, and now Antinous had gone to these lengths? It was terrifying.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you realized Telemachus was still standing in front of you, staring at you like a deer caught by a hunter.

You raised a brow, confused. Did he see something?

“My prince, are you… alright?” you asked, still somewhat shaken. After all, he did just save you. Maybe he was in shock?

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—” was what was running through Telemachus’s mind as he stood there.

He hadn’t really thought he’d get this far. All he saw was you in danger, and his instincts had taken over.

But now that he had actually saved you, talking to you afterward wasn’t part of the plan—if he even had a plan.

He was practically begging the gods that you wouldn’t notice the inconvenient pink hue on his cheeks because that would only make things worse.

He had gone to such lengths to avoid you, to ignore you, to ward you off—foolish attempts, all of them—and now here you were, standing right in front of him.

He waited for you to tell him that you knew. Knew he admired you, probably too much.

His lips quivered slightly as he stared at you, unable to stop himself. Come to think of it, he’d never noticed how beautiful you were up close. The shape of your nose, how perfectly it fit your face. The look in your eyes, with the soft tint of color. And your lips, how pretty they looked, even when they smiled just a little.

“Fuck, I’m staring,” he muttered under his breath, snapping out of his trance.

Which you definitely heard.

You tilted your head slightly. Was he okay? Had Antinous done something to him?

No, he was just a nervous wreck because his childhood crush was standing right in front of him, and he was so not prepared.

If Athena was watching him right now, this was definitely not a battle she had prepared him for.

With a silent, desperate cry, he cleared his throat, trying to make the situation less embarrassing than it already was.

“I-I’m fine. How are you?”

…

Seriously? THAT’S the best you could do?

He stared at the ground, trying to mask his shame. Maybe if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either, right? Zeus might as well strike him down with lightning.

He was about to punch himself when he heard something.

You were… laughing?

He looked up to see you covering your mouth, short giggles escaping your lips.

Was it bad that he found them so pretty?

Eventually, you calmed down.

“Thank you, my prince, for saving me back there. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t come to my aid. So, thank you.”

You bowed your head, expressing your gratitude.

“How can I repay you, my princ—”

“N-No! It’s fine, please! I don’t need anything. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you, so just…”

And now he was rambling.

Nice going, Telemachus. Might as well confess to her right here and now, right? Just go for it!

Before he could continue his spiral, both of you noticed a familiar silhouette approaching. As she got closer, you immediately recognized her.

And she did not seem pleased.

“Queen Penelope! Forgive me, I was delayed on my way to the kitchen. I’ll quickly fetch your meal as you requested—”

“No, it’s alright, Y/n. You are not the one I am concerned with.”

Her gaze shifted sharply to Telemachus, her eyes almost piercing through him.

The boy’s soul nearly escaped his body when he saw the way his mother looked at him.

“Son, come with me.” Penelope turned and walked away without another word.

Telemachus glanced back at you, taking in your beautiful presence one last time.

“I…”

“Quickly, Telemachus.”

If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was anger his mother. He feared her more than any god.

“I’lltalktoyoulaterbye!” he blurted out as he hurried to catch up with her.

That… was something. For a first impression, it wasn’t that bad, right?

Right?

Ah, shit.

He followed Penelope as they walked through the halls, still unsure of where they were headed, but he kept his pace with her.

Eventually, they reached the palace garden. A place where Penelope liked to unwind, where Telemachus often rested, and where you, conveniently, loved to work.

The queen sat beside the marble fountain, and Telemachus followed suit. A comfortable silence fell between them as they enjoyed the peaceful moment. It had been some time since they’d spent time together, and both of them treasured even the smallest moments.

“You like her, don’t you, son?”

…

Wait… WHAT?

So, what do you think?

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part one —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: of course i am watching tlou right now so this is what came about in my brain! i can't stop thinking about this story.

The forest is covered in a blanket of white.

You’ve been monitoring the unfamiliar area by the pond for hours. Most of it is half-frozen slush, but there’s enough liquid water left for life to visit. At least, you hope. The brittle cold laced in your bones and the pained hunger in your gut clings to this hope as you wait in position against frayed tree bark.

Desperation has brought you this far into the forest— uncharted territory. The risk is buried beneath the long week you’ve had, days that have blurred together with only death and solitude as the glue between the cracks. You are still alive, somehow. Your blood is still red. It moves. The pulse in your neck— the loudest thing in this forest.

But still, it’s quieting. Slowing.

You drag numb fingers over the bits of snow sticking to your hair, the light flakes feathering down. Then, your hand settles back on the curve of your wooden bow, whittled from oak years ago. Chiseled by hands that belonged to a friend whose corpse you’d left behind. This bow is your only momentum of him, along with the memories. But those memories are turning shallow with each day, killed by starvation. Thirst. Fear.

The clouds above the trees are grey and swollen.

Grey— an in-between color.

Somewhere between white and black, life and death.

You can feel yourself slipping closer to the grey.

Maybe you will be one of them soon— the Greys.

They are the reason for the lack of fresh meat in this forest, man and animal alike, and the reason for the loss of your companions. The smell of their molten flesh, greyed and tattered against rotting bones, has faded from the air the further you have journeyed. Over the years, you’ve grown accustomed to flaring your nostrils in constant search for their scent. Right now, as you keep your eyes on the pond, you don’t bother sniffing for them. If they come, they’ll put an end to your hunger.

There is not even much of you left for a Grey to sink its teeth in. You’ve turned slack and gangly. Your fingers could easily slip between the spaces of your ribs. Clothes hang loosely over your frame— Paul’s frayed winter coat, your sister’s trousers. You’d quickly peeled them off their dead bodies in your fleeing because your own clothes had been torn and doused in blood, unsuitable for the winter.

But that was days ago— now, you barely remember what their dead faces looked like. Grey, maybe. Empty.

Not too different than your own face as you sigh through your nose and dig the tip of your bow into the frost. Only a few hours of daylight remain. You will have to find a tree to sling yourself upon once night falls. That has been your strategy since the loss of your old camp, but you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up. Climbing the oaks requires fuel.

You swallow the dryness in your throat, thick and tasteless, and listen carefully to the sounds around you: branches in the wind, low whistles, your own heartbeat. And then—

A new sound.

The crackling of snow beneath light footsteps.

Lifting your bow back up, your pained breath quickens in a matter of instinct as you squint through blurred vision. A deer—? You have memorized the sound of their hooves after five years of hunting them. This isn’t it. Maybe it is a lone Grey crawling through the forest towards your scrawny, awaiting flesh.

Your eyes shift around. When you finally spot the owner of the footsteps, shock skips like a stone over the blood in your veins. More than ten meters away stands a child; not too young, not too skinny. Human eyes stare intently into yours, but you keep a strong grip on your bow and take aim.

A child—?

Would your hunger take you there?

Your stomach quivers and howls and chews at its own lining, but even in your desperation, you don’t consider the idea.

You can't.

The child continues to peer at you as you shakily lower the bow. You can’t make out much from this distance, not even gender— all you see is a thick coat on their small shoulders, a hood drawn over their head. When was the last time you had seen someone so young? Children, elderly: they’d been picked off the quickest.

A child could not survive on their own—

In your weakened state, you take a second too long to catch up to this realization.

A burly arm grabs you from behind.

A blade to your throat.

The bow slips from your grip and from your unused larynx, a hoarse scream ripples.

The end came on a day of homemade marmalade and Hemingway. The morning started quietly at your sister’s northern property. A quaint house in the suburbs where her son and husband played in the backyard while the two of you spread the jam on slabs of bread. Breakfast was shared between the four of you before their days began. You were visiting. You often did, taking the four-hour bus ride from London in search of a break from tantalizing coursework. Nursing school had been your dream, but it quickly took the form of a nightmare. Their home, their small family— you found sanity in it all.

You ate with them.

Your sister took the boy to school.

Michael promised to bring curry for dinner before he left for work.

In the quiet house, you cleaned for them. You didn’t know what would happen that day as you folded their laundry and stacked toys in the bins. At noon, the neighbor you knew to be Paul knocked at the door.

“You’re her sister, right?”

He was kind-eyed and of retirement age, yet thick-boned and strong. You’d heard a few stories about the gestures he sprinkled their household with in the loneliness since his wife’s passing. On that day, he offered you a stack of books as you propped the door open. All Hemingway.

“Dropping these off for Michael. He said he was a fan.”

“I’ll make sure they get to him, thanks.”

It was funny how the end of society could bring unlikely souls into collision. When everything cracked later that afternoon, Paul would become the reason for five years worth of your survival. It started with another knock on the door— but this time, Paul knocked with grave urgency. You had paused from cleaning after his first visit. You sat on the couch with A Farewell to Arms in your grip, but when you opened the door for him again, your finger parting your place among the pages, his words caused the book to slip from your hand to the floor.

“Call your sister— Michael, both of them.”

“I— I don’t understand. Who said all this?”

“The news. Fuck— have you not been listening for the past hour?”

You called your sister with fingers that trembled. She panicked on the other end: I'm driving home with Joseph right now and the streets are insane. I can’t even get a hold of Michael - oh god - try calling him for me?

You tried. He never answered. Your sister returned. The three of you followed Paul. You learned he was an ex forest-ranger. He calmed you through the screams you heard in the distance, through the strewn of bodies that began to litter the roads. Some sliced in half, crawling. Cars battered into each other.

“They’re coming from the city.”

He packed a bag. It was a flurry. Your sister carried the weeping boy. Your stomach felt full of acid. Panic. Paul kept a radio on him as you traversed towards the treeline, away from the entanglement of screams and blood and chaos. You overheard some pieces through the static: London was in shambles. The military was closing in on itself.

It is all in the brains. An infection.

Between living and dead.

Grey, grey, grey.

That first week felt like seconds.

Paul took you to a fenced-off parcel of land he owned in the forest; a private shooting range. He only had a few shotguns, outdated. Limited ammo. But he was quick to string tarps along the chain-link fence and add bolted locks to the gate. You helped him pin up two tents. Nailed wood boards to any gaps along the perimeter. You didn’t bring much with you; there hadn’t been time. All you managed was two changes of clothes, a thick coat, canned beans from the pantry, A Farewell to Arms.

You read it ten times over.

Paul did the hunting.

You begged to help, so he made you the bow. The arrows.

He took monthly trips to nearby, abandoned supermarkets.

“Never let anyone into our camp.”

You did well to listen, filling in as the second leader in his absence. Your older sister never did well under stress, never liked the outdoors. She’d lost her husband. A little boy clung to her. You tried to offer quiet comfort to the brokenness of their family, but it was all in vain.

A year.

Only a few hoards of Greys approached the fence. You helped Paul eradicate them. It’s all in their brains. Obliterate the brains.

Two years.

Joseph caught some sickness. Flu, you figured. You did your best with what Paul had picked up from the pharmacies, but you had little to work with. You listened to his wheezing, the dry and insistent cough. The winter didn’t help. Pneumonia.

He died just before his eighth birthday.

Your sister might as well have died that day, too.

She was a ghost for the three years following. You had to force food down her throat. You had to mother her, nurse her grief. Until the fifth winter, when the deer began to diminish. Their carcasses sprung up like daisies in the nearby wood. Eaten and gnawed by encroaching Greys, the smell of spilled blood and their own rotting stench attracted more and more of them from the distant city.

There were just too many for your handmade arrows and Paul’s shotgun. He ran out of ammo. The fence and tarp and wood did little against the coalesced wave of them that finally scraggled over it with moaned hisses and mindless teeth.

You watched them consume your sister.

Then, Paul.

You lived. You ran.

A week.

You slept up in the trees.

You had a knife. Your bow. You whittled more arrows.

Alive.

But barely.

The strong arm cages your body against something hard— a chest. The blade on your neck is icier than the air and it stings and burns with a threat that instantly has you squirming in the owner’s hold.

“Stop movin’ or I’ll fucking kill you.”

It is a gruff, quiet threat in your ear accompanied by a heated breath. Your eyes fill with moisture and you gasp for panicked gulps of air. You lift your hands up to the arm that holds you and attempt to claw at it feebly because your muscles, at this point, are nothing but hungered dust.

“I said stop movin’.”

A growl.

He presses the knife harder against your throat until you feel the skin prickle. The man behind you doesn’t need to step before your eyes in order to make his strength and size known. It is apparent in how easily he restrains you. You understand you have no chance— though, you’re certain even a child could pin you. Bony hands drop to your sides and you turn limp and helpless against him.

“This is my territory.”

“I didn't know anyone was here,” you hiss, voice scratchy. “I’m just passing through.”

His hold has you lifted up to the balls of your feet. The soles of your worn boots hover over crackling snow. There is something hard pressing against the top of your cranium as he lowers his head to utter more words in your ear.

“Give me a reason not to slit your throat.”

Your heart pounds. Adrenaline. A human instinct to survive, even though death is already at your fingertips.

“I’m a nurse,” you half-lie. You never finished. Your credentials are shortened to textbooks and little experience.

“Don’t need a nurse,” he murmurs. “Anythin’ else?”

Words float through the soupy mess that is your brain. It is hard to think. There isn’t a good reason for him not to kill you— you and Paul had to do it a few times before. Other humans could pose even greater threats than the mindless Greys. Humans are smarter. They have something to strive for; something to kill for by all means necessary— survival.

Your failure to respond is cut off by sudden footsteps crunching the ice, as light as a curious rabbit. It's the kid. A young girl you now realize, even through your state of panic. Her cheeks are pale like porcelain under the hood of her coat and her azure eyes observe you from head to toe.

Her lips part, but nothing comes out.

Instead, another growl in your ear.

“I know you have a knife,” he says, tightening his hold until you whimper. “Empty your pockets.”

There is not much room in this situation for you to disobey.

Flushing out your pockets, your nimble hands reveal only a small blade.

“Drop it.”

The knife falls to the ground with a quiet thud, just beside the oak bow. The only two items that have kept you alive for the last week lay in the thin snow. Even if you had the strength or will to fight back, you no longer had the resources to.

“Pick it up, Blue.”

The man behind you nods his chin. The young girl leans down to grab the handle of your knife. She inspects the blade, runs her index gently along the dull edge with her brows furrowed together. She stuffs it somewhere in her coat. Then, she looks back up. She flickers her blue gaze between you and whoever it is that stands behind you.

“So,” he grumbles with a click of his tongue. “Thought of that reason yet?”

You swallow. Then, your throat spasms around a sneer as you say, “This is your kid, isn’t it? Are you really going to kill me in front of your kid? You want her to see that?”

“Nothin’ she hasn’t seen before,” he muses in a dark brass. “Good lesson for her.”

Oh—

Blood chills in your veins.

Freezes over like the nearby pond.

You can’t think of any more words, so it is now that your eyes flutter shut. You seek darkness in preparation for whatever may happen once his knife digs deeper. Death— maybe it’s not so bad. It must be better than whatever it is you have been doing for the past week. Struggling. Life has little meaning at this point, and getting bitten by a Grey seems too transient. Death, on the other hand, will be permanent. Your sister, her family, and many others are waiting for you in the crevices of its darkness.

“Ghost…”

It is a soft voice.

The girl speaks now, and you open your eyes to watch as she nibbles at her lip.

“Ghost, do you have to?” She looks over the length of your body, inspecting it with a softness that is so different from the harsh grip you are locked in. “She's not much of a threat, right? It looks like she hasn’t eaten in days.”

“Told you, Blue.” The gruff voice arrives from over your shoulder. “The hungrier they are, the less you can trust ‘em.”

If you cared enough, you might have pleaded your case some more. You can trust me, you might have said. But you know how this goes. For as long as you are alive within their space, you are a problem. A problem for their food sources, and a problem for wherever they have made camp. The child may not fully understand this, but he certainly does.

“Just do it,” comes your voice; exhausted. The adrenaline hides under defeat. “Just fucking do it, alright? Kill me.”

He snarls.

You expect darkness.

You expect to see your sister again. Her son. Paul.

“Dad… don’t.”

A gentle plea.

A low huff in response.

And then, instead of receiving a slash to your jugular, you are thrown to the icy ground as if you are nothing more than a sack of bones. Your palms barely have time to spread open and break the fall. A pain shoots up your knees the moment they dig into the frozen dirt, but you don’t have it in you to wince or cry.

He listened to her—?

Shifting onto your butt, you look up at your attacker.

A skull mask stares back at you.

Dark eyes, broad shoulders, a towering height.

If you weren’t so relieved - surprised - to still be breathing, you might have been frightened to the point of tears.

He moves and you flinch, but rather than touching you, his heavy boot stamps something beside you. Your bow. The oak splinters in half under his foot.

“Are you—“ You suck in a strangled breath, looking between him and your now-ruined weapon. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just… just kill me. I can’t - I have nothing now! You might as well fucking kill me!”

But he doesn’t.

He gives another nod to the girl. A silent language that you don’t understand, and in response, she carefully steps around you. She offers an apologetic look before she follows after her skull-faced companion, and then you are left with nothing. Not a knife, not a bow. Only your rapid heartbeat and a pink welt on your throat where his knife had been.

[uptondixon]

Daryl & Daugther!Reader - Quarry Era II

Had this in my drafts for ages. I started writing and never finished, but I decided to post anyway. Thank you for all the love on Part 1! I'm sorry I'm not much of a writer to keep this storyline going :( Words: 1591 Warnings: Nightmares Gif not mine Chapter song is Fix You by Coldplay

Part I

"And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace."

It's been a while since the three of them started the walk back to camp, which was proving to be especially hard for the girl. After the adrenaline went off, the pain on her feet and legs were becoming almost unbearable. With each step she got slower and felt weaker. A headache making its way over her head, probably a mix of pain, hunger and lack of sleep.

Before heading back to camp Daryl offered her water, which she accepted desperately. Even though she was happy the thirst was over, her growling stomach didn't let her forget the days without anything to eat. She didn't mention that, already thankful for the water. However, the girl's skinny body gave Daryl an idea of how hungry she must be.

Daryl and Merle didn't hunt anything, both too focused on the deer, so he made a mental note to feed her as soon as they got to camp. Daryl also tried to take a better look at her wounds, but she didn't let him. He didn't push and decided this was a job for Lori or Carol. They were the mothers of the group and the girl would feel safe with them, he thought.

"She's slowing us down man, if we don't speed up we're going to lose sunlight. This girl is like a damn walker bait. Hell, I can smell her blood from here." Merle complained again.

"I get it Merle! Stop whining alrigh?" Daryl said before approaching the kid. 

She had been trailing behind them the whole time, never sparing them a glance and looking almost ready to bolt in the opposite direction at any moment. All of a sudden, Daryl realized that they didn't know her name.

"What's yer name kid?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Y/n." She said, voice almost a whisper.

"Alrigh', Y/n. Look, someone has to check yer wounds and for that we need to get to the camp but ya can barely walk…" Y/n knew he was right. She was scared to let him do anything with her wounds, afraid it would make it hurt even more. But the girl knew that it would only get worse if they didn't get there faster.

"What if I carry ya?" Daryl proposed. "We'll get to the folks faster and everything's gonna be okay." Daryl looked at her expectantly, while Merle was still mumbling some nonsense he chose to again ignore.

Y/n pounded for a moment. She didn't know this guy, even though he seemed to be making an effort to at least make her feel less scared. The same couldn't be said about the other guy, his brother. Even with Daryl's effort, she wasn't sure if trusting him was the right decision. However, it's not like she had any other choice at the moment.

Y/n looked up at Daryl and nodded her head. He handed his crossbow to Merle and picked the girl up. She felt so light and Daryl couldn't help but wonder how long she was alone out there, without food and water.

Y/n wrapped one of her arms around Daryl's neck, looking for something to hold on to. It was weird, how she didn't even know this man but felt safe in his arms. After being alone for months, she really wanted to believe someone good was going to help her.

Daryl arranged the girl in his arms and resumed their walking, Merle leading the way with Daryl's crossbow, aware of any danger.

They arrived at the camp a couple hours later and Daryl came in calling for the first person he saw, which in that case was Lori. "Daryl, oh my god??? Who is that?"

Daryl immediately felt Y/n's arms wrap harder around him. "It's fine kid, don't worry."

"We found her in the woods, alone and hurt."

Minutes later, the whole camp was reunited outside the RV while Lori and Carol were inside with Y/n. The girl felt more at ease with them, like Daryl imagined. But she was still unsure about everything and everyone.

After they treated her wounds and helped her clean up, Daryl brought some of the squirrel from his last hunt along with more food from the camp. Being clean and fed, it was like Y/n could finally think straight again.

Yours later, everyone started to retreat to their tents for the night. Inside the RV, Y/n tried to stay awake, her brain still on alert for some reason. But after a while her body started to give up and she fell asleep to the sounds of the dying conversation outside.

“It will be okay my baby, just run and don’t look back, okay?”

“But mom, what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you, go!” The little girl ran, but she couldn't help looking back. However, when she did, it made sense why her mother told her not to.

Screams, that’s what Daryl woke up to. He jumped out of his tent and saw Shane, Glenn and Dale outside the RV. “What the hell happened?”

“It 's Y/n.” Shane said “Lori is-” As if on cue, Lori leaves the RV. And to everyone's surprise, she smiled at Daryl.

“She’s asking for you, Daryl.” Daryl looked at Lori as if she had grown another head but entered the RV anyway.

“Hey kid, what's up?” Y/n was sitting in bed, death grip on the blanket and scared look on her face.

“I miss my mom” Daryl didn't know what to say, he didn't understand why she would want him there of all people. “Could you stay here until I fall back asleep?”

To be honest, Y/n didn't want to sleep, not if that meant another nightmare, but her body didn't give her any choice. Daryl saved her, his presence made her feel safe, so maybe he could help the bad dreams go away. Daryl was still confused, but he simply sat down in the chair close to the door and nodded his head, watching as the girl laid down, closing her eyes and falling asleep once again.

The first week went by smoothly, Y/n couldn't think about anything other than sleep. Her body begging for rest in order to heal. She didn't talk much, still overwhelmed with the new environment and everything that happened, but slowly feeling more at ease with everyone. Amy was the one to bring her food the days she stayed in bed. Lori or Carol would brush her long hair after she washed up. Glenn and Dale would make her laugh with silly jokes. Andrea and Jacqui would help change her bandages. Daryl would always check on her at the end of the day. He didn't say much, only put his head inside the RV, saw her asleep and then went to his tent.

The second week was better, she was stronger and more active. However, the nightmares still hunted her at night. Since Y/n got in the camp, Carl and Sophia were anxious to talk with her. But she was weak and scared so the adults held them back. When she started feeling better, spending her days sitting in the staircase of the RV and watching the camp, Carl approached her. With everything that happened Y/n didn't really had the time to think about the other kids at camp. She knew Sophia was Carol's daugther and Carl was Lori's, but they never talked and she suddently felt nervous. It's been ages since she last talked with someone her age.

"Hi, I'm Carl. You're Y/n, right?"

"Yeah.." Y/n smiled awkwardly.

"Shane's going to teach me how to grab frogs, you wanna come too?"

Y/n apreciated the invitation but she couldn't help but ask "Why would you want to grab frogs?"

Carl seemed like he wasn't expecting the question but answered anyway "Well, it's just funny, they jump so high trying to run away" he said with a little laugh "But we release them right after, Shane says they probably taste really bad to eat."

Y/n was the one ot laugh this time, for sure she wouldn't want to eat a frog.

"Okay, it seems fun" Y/n said looking at the boy in front of her.

"Yes! It's going to be really fun, I'll tell Shane you're coming" Y/n laughed again seeing the boy excitement, she couldn't help but feel it too. After the last stressful weeks, it was good to have some distraction.

Y/n met Sophia a couple nights after her frong hunt with Carl and Shane. The camp was having dinner and since she started feeling better, she started to have dinner outside with the others. The first night she went straight to Daryl, he and Merle sitting around a fire further from the main camp. In the short time Y/n was there she could notice how they differed from the rest of the camp. Her, as well, felt unsure, not of Daryl but his brother. The first night she left the RV and went to Daryl, Merle looked at her they same way he looked at her back in the woods. Like she was an walker bait. Daryl didn't showed much affection towards her, at least not in clear eyes. But he silently made sure she was fed and safe every single day, most of the others from the camp would not notice most of the time, but he did and Y/n knew it.

Taglist: @justmare

[paradoxdesign]

"The child wandered aimlessly through the forest. A forest vast and silent. Even the birds seem to have left. No deer was rustling in the thickets.

Her face, dirty and streaked with mud and blood, looked void of emotion.

Almost like a robot. Like the ones that has killed her family.

The sound of a nearby stream kept her going. As if the thirst fuelled her will to push on.

Once at the stream, she sat down by the waterside, scooped up water with both her hands and then realized, as if humanity descended on her again, that she couldn't drink the water with hands that dirty. She started to wash them. Laboriously... Again, and again and when she finally decided they were clean, she bursted into tears. Her clean hands defeatedly on her knees, palms up and her head craned back.

She sat there like that, for 20 minutes. Crying. Regaining humanity..."

[epiclamer]

operation has taken over my brain in the most positive way possible i love them

Uhhhh pt.3 of course— im sorry this is so late—

@hollowgast1

Part 1 Part 2

Operation Pt. 3

Hero’s surgery had been successful. Villains attempts to keep them rested and out of pain, had not. Well, more or less.

Ever since the villain had taken the hero back to their house for recovery, Hero had been a pain in their ass.

They would never rest, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, would refuse any type of pain killers as tears streamed down their face from the agony. Every chance they got they would drag themselves out of bed and attempt to run.

It didn’t matter how much talking or reassuring Villain did, nothing got through to their head. And understandably enough, it was driving them insane.

Now, the hero was tied by each limb to a corner of the bed with fabric restraints, that they still somehow managed to hurt themselves with. Giving the criminal even more wounds to take care of—as if they didn’t have enough already.

“Hero, please eat something. Drink something. Anything, just please.”

The crime-stopper didn’t move, they looked like a deer in headlights and the only telltale sign that they were still alive and not frozen was their hyperventilating. Villain watched their chest move out of time with their breath due to their broken ribs that were trying to heal ever since the surgery. But Hero wouldn’t give them a break.

In the back of their head, Villain was counting their BPM and every alarm bell was ringing ‘too fast, too fast, too fast—’. They dropped their head in defeat, the water bottle and bowl of applesauce in their hands hit the bedside as their arms fell and the hero flinched harshly, hitting their head against the headboard.

Some sort of overly kind instinct rushed Villain’s senses for a moment and they wanted to jump on top of the hero and tenderly care for their bumped head. But exhaustion was stronger, was heavier, and it weighed them down too much to care. If Hero didn’t want to eat or drink, Villain couldn’t force them. They’d just die here on the villain’s bed, of thirst or reopened wounds, it was a close call between the two.

Villain groaned; they were being ridiculous. Ridiculously stupid. They were caretaking. They couldn’t give up. The hero just needed an incentive…

“You’re scared that I’ll hurt you.” Hero’s silence was answer enough. “If you take this kindness, that I’ll use it against you to hurt you.”

No response but the hero seemed to sweat, shuffling backwards just a tad from the other.

The villain nodded, trying to dig up a plan in their dazed mind. They huffed a small laugh, “easy fix… i’ll just threaten your loved ones or something for if you don’t eat.”

It was a joke. A terrible excuse of a joke that held no mocking tone whatsoever. But it made the villain laugh.

They were starving, worked-to-the-bone and so, so, so, fed up. That the idea, the stupid idea sure to only traumatize the hero further, was actually hilarious.

Villain burst out in laughter, letting go of the water and food in their hands as it rested against the bed. They crossed their arms over their chest and threw their head back, cackling and wheezing so hard their legs began to shake. It took them quite a few long deep breaths until they could calm down, eyes occasionally falling on the horrified hero and they couldn’t help but laugh some more.

Then, in a moment of pure delinquent fun, they leaned forwards, crowding the hero against the bed and stuck our their hands. Wiggling their fingers and eyebrows in unison out at the other as they whispered, “eat, drink, take care of yourself or I’ll destroy everyone you love…”

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Hero didn’t take the statement as lightly as Villain did. Sitting as far up as they could in an instant before tears started rolling down their face and they turned into a blabbering wreck.

“P-Please— d-don’t hurt them—I swear, I-I’ll eat, I’ll drink, I-I’ll do anything, just please…”

Oh.

Shit.

In instinct, Villain would’ve scrabbled to fix the mess they had just created. But their common sense brain kicked in at the last second and they hesitated, frozen in spot, frozen in thought. Maybe… just maybe… this could work out…

Against their bonds, Hero looked crazed, yanking desperately at them as they cried and begged. Their first words since they had arrived. Villain almost felt proud.

Almost.

Tentatively, as if they couldn’t believe the development just yet, Villain picked up and held out their water bottle. The cap was already unscrewed and as it reached Hero’s lips they only hesitated for a split second before gulping down the refreshment.

Villain could’ve sworn they saw a look of pleasure filled relief as they swallowed the last of the water, but it was gone and replaced with guilt sooner than they could blink. Then, before they could give the hero any extra time to reconsider, or for this all to be some too-good-to-be dream, Villain held out a spoonful of applesauce.

Hero looked two things, relaxed and fearful. Which were two emotions that generally didn’t go hand in hand. But the villain figured that their brain must have been fighting itself between one half that wanted to cave and the other that wanted to be defiant.

Eventually, they caved. And very slowly they parted their lips, allowing the villain to spoon feed them until the bowl was polished clean. Even if every swallow was slow and painful, they didn’t stop opening their mouth for more until it was all gone.

“Wow…” The villain stared down at the empty containers. “That’s all it took, huh?”

The hero’s lip quivered as they made eye contact. “Y-you won’t hurt them, r-right? I-if I’m g-good?”

At the last sentence a chill ran up the criminal’s spine, whoever had imprisoned their enemy prior had done some serious mental damage that they had yet to assess. Normal patients didn’t do that; but normal patients weren’t highly sought after heroes either.

They weighed their options and after a brief period of contemplation, Villain decided that the most crucial thing for the both of them would be some rest. So, carefully, the villain clicked off the bedside lamp. Taking their dishes towards the room door as they exited, looking back once as they stopped in the doorway.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone. Just get some rest and everything will be fine.”

Villain tried not to feel disappointed as they headed for the kitchen and then the couch. But to their heart it was worse than a stab wound, Hero actually believed that Villain was going to hurt the ones they loved.

All of their previous trust… The years they had spent building their relationship and bonding, was now out the window.

They flopped back onto the squeaky cushions and closed their eyes. In the morning everything would be okay. Hero finally ate something. That was step one.

Tomorrow—while they got the hero to sleep some more—they could begin their hunt for whichever sadistic fuck had destroyed their nemesis and Villain smiled slightly at the thought.

[ronance-romance]

Have some vampire!Nancy for your dash today!

The incident that Nancy internally called The Bite happened just over two months ago. While trying to save Steve, one of those bats had gotten her, and she’d barely felt it due to the adrenaline. Something liquid had seeped from its teeth into the wound before she twisted its neck. When asked if she had been hurt, by Eddie for that matter, she shook her head and kept the injury to herself. It was only when she was alone that she dealt with it properly. She didn’t think too much of it, until the injury had healed just two days later when the crew in California arrived in Hawkins.

After that, the cravings started. At first, she just thought she was thirsty. Water would fix it, right? Mike gave her a confused look when he found her with her head under the sink for minutes at a time, multiple times a day. She even tried a whole pitcher of water. 2 and a half gallons. She sat in her room and chugged the whole thing in one sitting. Still the burn in her throat and the aching need inside her never ceased. With each day that passed, it got worse.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t her only problem. Her senses heightened. Sight, smell, hearing. The world was much louder to her in multiple ways. Nancy lived in headphones and sunglasses just to tolerate it. The sun burnt her skin, but not in a deadly way. She just couldn’t withstand it for more than five minutes.

There was a word for what was happening to her but the last thing she wanted to do was admit it. As the thirst mounted into something unbearable, she knew she couldn’t hide from this reality forever. But she couldn’t hurt her own family. It was just unthinkable. Rabbits were little more than an appetizer and just didn’t help. She needed something with more…bite, so to speak.

One day, about three months after The Bite, she finally caved and attacked the first moving thing she saw. It wasn’t until she heard a muffled cry of pain and her own name that there was the vaguest of realizations that she was feeding on a person. Not just any person, somebody that she knew.

“Nancy…Nancy what the fuck…” Jonathan shoved her, but she wouldn’t budge.

A second person pulled her off and she snarled and struggled. Blood ran down her chin. Steve?

“Okay well, that’s definitely something I wasn’t expecting,” Steve groaned as he tried to restrain Nancy. “You good, Jonathan?”

“Fantastic,” he groaned from the grass.

All of this was a mere backdrop to just how dire her own thirst still was. She lunged and tried to bite Steve, but at the last moment he dropped her back into the grass.

“Well that explains why we haven’t heard a peep from her!” Steve exclaimed. “She’s gone insane with bloodlust. “What the hell do we do?”

“The woods…” Jonathan got to his feet and winced. “Maybe some animals.”

Nancy’s gaze tore away from the two boys. She caught another scent and went after it. After getting her hands on a deer and draining it, her head finally began to clear. And she came to terms with what she had done. Jonathan and Steve managed to catch up to her and she wiped off her chin and mouth, guilt overwhelming her.

“Jonathan, I…I’m so sorry,” Nancy said quietly. “I couldn’t control it anymore.”

“Trying to handle this all by yourself. Yeah that’s so like you, Nancy.”

If she didn’t know better, if she didn’t see him bleeding so openly in front of her, she wouldn’t know he had been hurt at all. But she did know. Knew him so well. And he was putting on a brave face so she wouldn’t feel worse than she already did. It wasn’t working, but it was sweet that he was trying.

“Okay so, that bat did something to you that it didn’t do to me,” Steve declared.

“Yeah. I gathered that.”

“So you’re a…vampire.” Jonathan put a hand to his neck to stop the bleeding. “I guess I can’t tell people scared of you that you don’t bite anymore. Cause you sure as hell do.”

“Sorry.” Nancy grinned sheepishly. “I guess the woods are suitable for now till we find a long term solution.”

“Robin was asking about you,” Steve said. “What should I tell her?”

“Nothing yet. We need…a solid plan so I don’t hurt anyone else first.”

“Let’s get to work,” Jonathan said. Steve nodded and started walking out of the woods.

Nancy took Jonathan’s hand. The man she had chosen over an old high school sweetheart. But really, ultimately, it was no contest. The present, the future, all of that was more appealing than the past. For many reasons. Now they had an entirely new future to conquer together. She could deal with that. Just like he dealt with the bite she’d given him.

“What?” Jonathan smiled. “Why are you staring at me?”

Nancy got on her tiptoes and kissed him. She playfully nibbled at his lip before pulling away, tasting more blood.

“Unh…jeez Nance,” Jonathan chuckled. “Can’t get enough of my blood, can you?”

“It’s not your blood I’m after right now.” She grinned. Jonathan blushed.

“HEY! Lovebirds!” Steve yelled from much further ahead. “Get out of the damn woods already!”

Nancy giggled and ran on ahead of Jonathan. Her boyfriend complained about how much faster she was than him now and struggled to catch up.

[walkswithmyfather]

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭42:1‭-‬5‬ (‭NLT)‬‬. As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God. When can I go and stand before him? Day and night I have only tears for food, while my enemies continually taunt me, saying, “Where is this God of yours?” My heart is breaking as I remember how it used to be: I walked among the crowds of worshipers, leading a great procession to the house of God, singing for joy and giving thanks amid the sound of a great celebration! Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again— my Savior and my God!”

‭‭Psalms ‭42:11‬, 43:5 ‭(NASB). “Why are you in despair, my soul? And why are you restless within me? Wait for God, for I will again praise Him For the help of His presence, my God.”

“Choose Hope” By In Touch Ministries:

“God welcomes and promises to help those who bring their pain to Him.”

“A lament is an expression of sorrow or complaint. About one-third of the psalms fall into this category, which tells us that God welcomes these kinds of prayers from His children. In fact, they’re an essential component of communication with the Lord, just like praise, worship, confession, and intercession. Our cries may be full of ache, anger, and confusion, but the One who made us isn’t surprised or offended by our messy, unfiltered words and emotions.

Many scholars believe that Psalms 42 and 43 were at one time a single song. In these two chapters, we find lament interspersed with a refrain that occurs three times: “Why are you in despair, my soul? And why are you restless within me? Wait for God, for I will again praise Him for the help of His presence, my God” (Ps. 42:5; Ps. 42:11; Ps. 43:5).

After a painful, real recounting of his circumstances, the psalmist includes a repeated chorus that preaches His truths to our heart and encourages us to hope in God. It’s a reminder that we can honestly tell the Lord about our circumstances —and that trusting Him is a choice we can make, even during our darkest days.”

[Photo by Elisa Ventur at Unsplash]

[raphohwell]

This song is one of the most influential songs about climate change in my home province of Quebec. I hope you will enjoy it, and take the opportunity to spend time thinking about the issues currently faced by our planet due to climate change.

Cette chanson est l'une des plus importantes dans le discours des changements climatiques dans ma province natale du Québec. J'espère en vous la montrant que vous l'apprécierez et prendrez du temps pour réfléchir aux bouleversements auxquels nous faisons face durant ces changements climatiques.

Lyrics - Paroles

[English]

There are only a few minutes left in my life At most a few hours, I feel myself weakening My brother died yesterday in the middle of the desert I am now the last human on Earth

They once described to me, when I was a child What the world looked like a very long time ago When my great-grandfather's parents were alive And snow still fell in winter

In those times, we lived according to the seasons And the end of summers brought the harvest Pure and limpid water flowed in the streams Where deer and moose came to drink

But I have only seen a desolate planet Lunar landscapes and suffocating heat And all my friends dying of thirst or hunger Like flies falling, until there was nothing left Nothing left Nothing left

There are only a few minutes left in my life At most a few hours, I feel myself weakening My brother died yesterday in the middle of the desert I am now the last human on Earth

It all started several years ago When my ancestors were obsessed By pieces of paper called money That made some men truly rich and powerful

And these new gods, stopping at nothing Were ready to do anything to achieve their goals To get even richer, they razed the earth Polluted the air and dried up the rivers

But after a hundred years, people rose up And warned them that everything had to stop But they did not understand this wise prophecy These men only spoke in terms of profits

It was years later that they saw the nonsense In panic, they declared a state of emergency When all the oceans swallowed the islands And floods hit the big cities

And then for a whole decade There were hurricanes and then fires Earthquakes and great drought Everywhere on faces, you could read distress

People had to fight against pandemics Decimated by millions by dreadful diseases Then others died of thirst or hunger Like flies falling, until there was nothing left Nothing left Nothing left

My brother died yesterday in the middle of the desert I am now the last human on Earth In the end, the intelligence we were given Will have been nothing but a beautiful, poisoned gift Because there are only a few minutes left in life At most a few hours, I feel myself weakening I can't walk anymore, I struggle to breathe Farewell humanity, Farewell humanity

[Français]

Il ne reste que quelques minutes à ma vie Tout au plus quelques heures, je sens que je faiblis Mon frère est mort hier au milieu du désert Je suis maintenant le dernier humain de la terre

On m'a décrit jadis, quand j'étais un enfant Ce qu'avait l'air le monde il y a très très longtemps Quand vivaient les parents de mon arrière-grand-père Et qu'il tombait encore de la neige en hiver

En ces temps, on vivait au rythme des saisons Et la fin des étés apportait la moisson Une eau pure et limpide coulait dans les ruisseaux Où venaient s'abreuver chevreuils et orignaux

Mais moi, je n'ai vu qu'une planète désolante Paysages lunaires et chaleur suffocante Et tous mes amis mourir par la soif ou la faim Comme tombent les mouches, jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ait plus rien Plus rien Plus rien

Il ne reste que quelques minutes à ma vie Tout au plus quelques heures, je sens que je faiblis Mon frère est mort hier au milieu du désert Je suis maintenant le dernier humain de la terre

Tout ça a commencé il y a plusieurs années Alors que mes ancêtres étaient obnubilés Par des bouts de papier que l'on appelait argent Qui rendaient certains hommes vraiment riches et puissants

Et ces nouveaux dieux ne reculant devant rien Étaient prêts à tout pour arriver à leurs fins Pour s'enrichir encore, ils ont rasé la terre Pollué l'air ambiant et tari les rivières

Mais au bout de cent ans, des gens se sont levés Et les ont avertis qu'il fallait tout stopper Mais ils n'ont pas compris cette sage prophétie Ces hommes-là ne parlaient qu'en termes de profits

C'est des années plus tard qu'ils ont vu le non-sens Dans la panique ont déclaré l'état d'urgence Quand tous les océans ont englouti les îles Et que les inondations ont frappé les grandes villes

Et par la suite pendant toute une décennie Ce furent les ouragans et puis les incendies Les tremblements de terre et la grande sécheresse Partout sur les visages, on lisait la détresse

Les gens ont dû se battre contre les pandémies Décimés par millions par d'atroces maladies Puis les autres sont morts par la soif ou la faim Comme tombent les mouches, jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ait plus rien Plus rien Plus rien

Mon frère est mort hier au milieu du désert Je suis maintenant le dernier humain de la terre Au fond, l'intelligence qu'on nous avait donnée N'aura été qu'un beau cadeau empoisonné Car il ne reste que quelques minutes à la vie Tout au plus quelques heures, je sens que je faiblis Je ne peux plus marcher, j'ai peine à respirer Adieu l'humanité, adieu l'humanité

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

As the Deer Pants for the Water

For the choirmaster. A Maskil of the sons of Korah.

1 As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs after You, O God.

2 My soul thirsts for God, the living God. When shall I come and appear in God’s presence?

3 My tears have been my food both day and night, while men ask me all day long, “Where is your God?”

4 These things come to mind as I pour out my soul: how I walked with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God with shouts of joy and praise.

5 Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why the unease within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him for the salvation of His presence.

6 O my God, my soul despairs within me. Therefore I remember You from the land of Jordan and the peaks of Hermon— even from Mount Mizar.

7 Deep calls to deep in the roar of Your waterfalls; all Your breakers and waves have rolled over me.

8 The LORD decrees His loving devotion by day, and at night His song is with me as a prayer to the God of my life.

9 I say to God my Rock, “Why have You forgotten me? Why must I walk in sorrow because of the enemy’s oppression?”

10 Like the crushing of my bones, my enemies taunt me, while they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”

11 Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why the unease within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God. — Psalm 42 | Berean Standard Bible (BSB) Berean Standard Bible (BSB) © 2016, 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean Bible. All rights Reserved. Cross References: Deuteronomy 3:8-9; 1 Samuel 1:15; 2 Samuel 17:22; Job 3:24; Job 30:28; Job 35:10; Psalm 6:6; Psalm 16:7; Psalm 22:2; Psalm 42:5; Psalm 42:11; Psalm 44:24; Psalm 84:2; Psalm 119:20; Jeremiah 4:20; Joel 2:17; Jonah 2:3; Matthew 16:16; Matthew 26:38; Matthew 26:63

[holesandlividity]

Guardian Angel: J.Miller x Reader

Chapter I: Welcome to the Family 

Overall Summary: After traveling alone for so long you were on the brink of death, no. You were ready and prepared to die. You knew your luck had to run out eventually and you had come to terms with it, until fate or whatever you call it decided that you still had some lady luck on your side. Hiding in an abandoned Hotel full of infected that’s when you meet him. Joel Miller a total pain in your ass and a man full of secrets you were dying to unravel.

Chapter Summary: Tired and ready to give up you hid away in an abandoned Hotel when an unexpected “helping” hand comes along.

Warnings: Mentions of death, guns, typical TLOU violence

W.C: 1.24k

    You didn’t know why it happened or what you even did to deserve it- him. What you did know however, is that Joel Miller must have been a blessing straight from the heavens above.

    The sun shown, no it beat down on you. The heat was unforgiving and the sweat was sticky, salty, and uncomfortable. You were gross and tired and so incredibly hot, you had run out of water about an hour ago and you had no way to quench your thirst, the sweat your licked off your upper lip doing nothing to help your dehydrated state. 

    You had been on the run for about a month now, ever since your quarantine zone had been taken over by hunters and bandits and your legs could barely carry you any further, you debated taking off the hefty bag you carried on your shoulders and leaving it somewhere for even an inkling of relief but you knew that was a death wish.

    Maybe that’s exactly what you were waiting for though. For the sweet relief of death to carry you in its arms as if you weighed nothing at all. Wether it was from a heat stroke or those god damned infected you didn’t care it’s not like you really had time to be picky when thinking about how you would meet your demise.

    And suddenly there he was, all worn around the edges, and a bit mean but also kind. He reminded you of an espresso flavored cake, bitter but soft. 

   He had found you hiding in an old abandoned hotel, at first you hid from him. As soon as you heard his voice, all deep and southern your mind jumped to the conclusion that he was a hunter coming to collect the meat right off your tired bones. 

    Before you knew it the door to the bathroom you were hiding in was practically torn off it’s hinges and all at once a gun, flashlight, and tall figure were directly in your face. You’ve been shot at before sure, but looking down the barrel of a gun head on was a completely different experience. At least if you were to die by his hands it would be quick.

    “Who the fuck are you?” Bitter. And then-

    “Are you hurt?” Sweet. 

    You felt like a deer in headlights, it had been an entire month since you were actually face to face with someone. You had half the sense to convince yourself right then and there that he was God himself ready to welcome you to heaven. And then it hit you this wasn’t God and you most certainly were not going to heaven. This man was real and breathing and above all alive.

    “No, no I’m not hurt,” Not physically anyways. “could you please lower the gun and flashlight I think you’re going to blind me here soon.” 

    He didn’t move a single inch, hell it didn't even look like he was breathing in that moment. “At least put the fucking light down for god’s sake.” He was giving you a headache and that stupid light prevented you from seeing anything in front of you.

    “I don’t think you’re in any position to be tellin’ me what to do right now.” ‘Maybe I should just beg him to shoot me, get it over with already. I’m dead anyways if not by his hands then by the teeth and hands of all the infected on the third floor.’

    Holy shit the third floor. 

    “I can help you get out of here.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you by the way his finger moves a single inch closer to the trigger.

    “Please! I swear to god. I know the way out of here.” 

    “Then why haven’t you left already?” 

    It was a logical question you knew that but maybe if he took even a second to see the fucking position you and your supplies were in. “Because I was waiting for prince fucking charming to come along and save me duh.” 

    “There ain’t no prince’s around these parts, you know that right?”

    “Clearly.” You mumble to yourself, “but seriously I don’t have enough ammo to get myself out of here otherwise I would’ve been long gone. Only way to the other side is the third floor and it’s loaded with all kinds of infected. By the looks of it you have more than enough bullets to take a couple of them out.”

    “What’s the catch?” You hadn’t thought about receiving anything in return, the fact that he would be helping you get out of here should’ve been enough. Key word, should’ve.

    “First, you get that fucking gun out of my face like I asked you to earlier. Secondly, for the love of god some water would be nice. And lastly, you let me travel with you for a while until I can find somewhere safe. And I mean actually safe, to the point where I don’t have to fight for my life every goddamned second I spend on this earth.”

    “I like her already.” A lighter more feminine voice rang through the air, definitely belonging to a child. 

    “Who the hell is that?” The young girl introduced herself as Ellie before the man shoved her in the next room over. The fact that he had a kid with him helped ease some of your worries about him shooting you right in the face. 

    He thought about it for a second, maybe even two before finally lowering his weapon. “I can guarantee the water you asked for,” He said while rummaging through his bag before pulling out a beat up metal bottle. “But I can’t promise you somewhere safe, at least not as safe as you’re wanting it to be.”

    “Somewhere safe, someone safe I don’t give a damn just take me somewhere other than here for the love of fuck.” 

    He could do that and kill two birds with one stone, drop both you and Ellie off with Tommy in Wyoming. “Deal.” He stated before giving you the bottle filled with water and offering you a hand up.

    “The name’s Joel by the way. Joel Miller.” 

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Number 13

TW: Starvation, being held captive, hysterical breakdown, animal is killed

"120," Hero mutters softly as they scratch out the tally mark on the wall of their stone cell with nails that used to be perfectly manicured once upon a time.

120 days spent in this hellhole, with barely any air and far too much light which made sleeping nigh impossible along with the hard, stone floor. But nothing was as worse as the hunger and thirst that seemed to become the same feeling now. They desperately missed the rats their captors would throw to them at first. They'd drink them dry within five minutes, and it was quite possibly the worst flavour of blood they'd ever had. But it was better. Than the starvation that tore at their insides and made every movement feel like they were at war with their own limbs.

The door creaks open, and Hero sits upright, shoulders tensing in apprehension. Villain has the nerve to saunter in front of a hungry starving vampire, jugular vein casually exposed and posture completely relaxed.

"Wow. You look like crap."

They laugh softly. "I never knew that blood mattered that much to you. I remember clearly you used to squeeze blood transfusion bags into your glass and sip it up with a straw like a damn pina colada. You used to turn up your nose at the rats, hm?" An playful look crosses their face.

Their nemesis stalks closer to them, grinning, and Hero lets out a growl, low and feral. Villain's dragging something along with them.

Their eyes widen and their mouth waters at the sight of a plump-looking deer. Their normally green-blue eyes turn a bold red and their whole body is racked with shivers as they crawl on all fours towards their prey.

"Not so fast, sweetheart." They slowly, tauntingly even, pull the animal away from them. Hero's growl would've scared anyone in their right mind to death. Villain, bless them, knows sanity like a polar bear knows the Sahara desert. "Can't let you have this snack if you don't comply. All you need to do is talk."

Hero cusses them out. The filthiest thing they know. "I could get you to do anything for me in this state, no? Anything." They run their finger lightly on their enemy's jaw, narrowly avoiding getting it chopped off by their sharp teeth.

Hero's eyes fill with tears. They know what will happen. They're going to humiliate them. Their 'composure' is gone as they fall into straight up hysterics. Villain's expression goes from amused to shocked.

They were just messing with them, thinking Hero would just be cranky and that the predatory stance had been a little show to scare them. But this was cruel, even for a villain. They crouch down to floor, expression softening. "Hero, I swear this isn't up to me. Supervillain's going to make this so much worse for you if you don't comply. Please, if you just listen, I'll have you out of here. You'll finally get some sleep, clean clothes, no limit on the fancy little glasses of blood you like. It'll be somewhere nice. Just. . ."

They're cut off by Hero screaming in agony, banging on the floor till their already bruised knuckles turn a deeper shade of purple. Villain curses and they push the deer towards them. To hell with protocol. To hell with Supervillain and their twisted little games.

Almost automatically, Hero runs their fingers somewhat soothingly on the animal's skin, and it stops struggling completely. They swiftly twist its neck with a sharp crack and sink their fangs into it. Their whole body relaxes against the animal as they continue to drain it. They stop momentarily to catch their breath and resume, until they drink their prey dry.

They lick their lips and lean against the wall of their cell, and Villain hands them a couple tissues from their pockets, eyes still wide at what they've just witnessed. Wiping their hands and mouth, their eyes change back to their familiar bluish green. A slight smile plays on Hero's no-longer-dry lips.

"Thank you," they whisper curtly.

"You-you're welcome." They flash the immortal a weak smile. They have no idea what they're going to do, the threat of Supervillain's wrath rearing its ugly head at them. But they don't regret at all letting Hero feed.

No one deserves to be treated like that.