#flowers may wither but you remain

[waaanderingluna]

🥀 𝕱𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖞 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓

[comfortless]

hades! konig and persephone! reader

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. abduction, voyeurism, dubcon, not very explicit smut.

notes: this has been on my mind for an eternity actually thank you sweet anon for finally encouraging me to write it out! if you celebrate, merry christmas! and if not consider this just a lil gift for absolutely no reason apart from for being my first Kö request. 💕

A hollow grows within him the moment his gaze meets hers. A chance crossing whilst collecting a rare offering of fruit laid out just for him. Most mortals wouldn’t beckon his attention, and the gods often left him just as well. He knows better than to take insult and become reckless, though… recklessness comes as easily as breathing when his stare settles on her across the glade. She twirls in silent dance, pirouetting carefully as if to avoid crushing the nature that springs up, brushing against her soles. Her voice picks up in a song when she notes the figure watching her from a distance, her cadence no less beautiful than any choir despite the flighty waver in her tone.

When the nymphs rise up from the stream to listen, he stands transfixed for a moment as they pull her in with them for a more elaborate dance, voices all melding until they break into a chorus of giggles and stories.

It should have been left at that.

She walks an earth made for her; flowers blossoming beneath her bare soles, each root extending for just a chance to brush against tender flesh, a breeze that flits gently against her hair. The daughter of Demeter, something unattainable, too precious to be dirtied by the howling abyss below her feet.

He is tethered to darkness and unknowns, an enigma with dried blood beneath his fingernails; the only songs he hears are screams. He’s since stolen flowers from the meadows she dances in. Beautiful peonies and soft green things that smell sweet. Flowers don’t bloom in the dark, they wither and dry.

Days are spent in melancholic longing, nights his roaring grief melds with the wailing of lost souls. Ugly and tainted noises that he dreams will reach her ears, that she will come to him with her lashes wet with tears, wrap him in her arms and quiet all but her own voice as she tells him that he’s more beautiful than her rivers and her blooms.

Yet, she never does.

König takes it upon himself to walk the land of mortals, teemed with life and pleasures more often now. He pulls himself from below with unnatural fire behind his eyes, a horrible, yearning abyss in place of the feathery, clumsy love that he’s watched so many others allow for themselves.

She notices him while he watches her bathe amongst the nymphs, stood upright and imposing beneath the shade of a tree. Each time, while the nymphs shy away with giggles and hands curled over their breasts, she merely keeps her eyes on him; lips-parted and pulse raging. He knows, would swear by it, that his obsession is not entirely one-sided.

Once, she chooses to wave at him, a demure flick of her wrist while his stare remains fixed upon her. The droplets of water from the curve of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts and the pebbled nipples there— down, further into the water that envelopes her and sends his mind to flicker, a roaring flame building from his chest to his groin.

All of his frustrations pale and cower at the fantasy that he just may be able to grant himself the liberty of sinking into something writhing and warm from just one, simple gesture.

He knows he’s fucked, because his first thought after the lullaby of attraction subsides is to poke her just a little; prod her and see what makes her cry the hardest, blanket her in the shadow of himself and pick her apart like a vulture to a cadaver, do things to her that no man ever has or should. It’s not right, and he has to force himself to turn away, the fabric of the veil obscuring his face as he slinks back into the dark where he belongs. Away from the untouchable maiden who seems to haunt him endlessly with her teasing.

The giggles and splashes of the nymphs whisper through the air like the chirping of birds. Though, one voice stands out above the rest of the noise, causes him to halt in his tracks.

“Why does he never speak to us?”

Her voice, so sweet, asking about him when she should be speaking of nothing but the beauty surrounding her, the warmth of the sun and never the cold darkness of the moon.

It’s eating away at him, he realizes, when he can no longer satisfy himself. Nights lain in a haze, staring up at blackened walls with his length in hand. All it takes is the memory of wet lashes and a soft smile, usually. Her beauty is enough to bring even him to his knees, yet, he finds himself instead on the brink of hysteria the first night he finds a vision of her is not sufficient enough to reach the brilliant white haze of a climax.

The thought of stealing her away from her world of beauty to drag her down into the dark with him fills him with both elation and a terrible guilt. Zeus himself is no different; the thought shouldn’t warrant a seeping coldness in his veins, nor should it have caused him to spill his seed into his hand with only a mere flick of the pad of his thumb over his tip, yet it accomplishes both. A waste, when it should be buried deep inside of his beloved.

It takes only two nights for him to plot, to have Gaia choose to favor him, and on the third day the Narcissus flower blooms, pretty and golden. It echoes false promises, softness and beauty beyond even the daughter of Demeter’s imaginations. She will hate him, she will. Her very soul will sour the moment she lays her eyes on him next, but eventually… she will come to understand, return his love with a whisper of her own. Lightly, at best, but it would still be more than he had ever known.

He watches the roots of the plant from below, a pinprick of warm light shining down. The thumps of footsteps overhead, shaking down loose soil like raindrops, giggles like crackling thunder. She’s roaming about with her nymphs again, gentle with her and all of her beauty. After watching her for so very long, he’s more than certain they will be braiding the flowers and falling asleep after fits of laughter with the taste of fruit on their tongues. Only, she’s condemned herself by being so predictable. She will fall, not into soft grasses with a woman’s arms thrown over her, but directly into his own. She won’t eat the fruit of the earth, but drink his wine and allow him to lose himself in her flesh, bedded down against the pelts of beasts and blackened out by shadows.

The wait isn’t long. Her voice breaks through the quiet of the earth below her feet, seems to light up even the space between the two of them as her footfalls halt only several paces away.

“Look at this one!,” she calls out.

Several steps follow after her as one of the ladies of the river comes to join her. He imagines the smile on his beloved’s face, the way her body curves as she kneels down to his trap and his fingers twitch in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Maybe not that one, sweet,” the nymph warns. “There are prettier ones by the bank.”

König can feel his jaw tighten, eyelids pausing to narrow up at the small light as he tries, forces himself to believe that this was fated. She wouldn’t turn away— she couldn’t.

“No... just look at it. We’ve not seen one so lovely since last spring.”

“What if someone else planted it for themselves?”

“But… I want it.”

She sounds so pitiful, so gentle, and he can feel that swell of heat curling inside of him again. The urge to simply love her feels all-consuming with each word that passes from her mouth.

The two above giggle to themselves at her mischief, before finally, the roots begin to move from a gentle tug above. In a matter of seconds, the entire plant has been uprooted. For a daughter of nature to not long for its beauty would be unrealistic, yet he still exhales his relief. The earth riots beneath the women’s feet, splintering cracks and loud discordance echo through the valley. The nymph’s shrieks join the disarray as her featherlight footfalls lead her far, far away from what belongs to him: the dark, the rot, and now her.

With so little time to react, she falls headfirst into the abyss, clutching the narcissus tightly between her soft breasts. Waiting arms are raised to the glimpse of sun and beauty to catch her as he pulls her tightly against his chest, tucks her head against a broad shoulder and grasps at her waist. Whatever he had imagined her flesh to feel like paled in comparison to her warmth, the softness that gives with each press of a digit that makes her tense beneath his touch.

She’s crying, shaking, terrified as she weakly raises her head and offers him a smile. It’s the kind of smile that screams savior, and he can’t bring himself to correct her. No one has ever looked at him with such tenderness.

Everything quiets the moment she looks up to him like that, after condemning herself to him as though she knows nothing of men and gods. She looks at him like he’s an angel, in turn he bites his tongue so hard he can feel the pinpricks of blood and soreness blossom from the wound. He knows he isn’t good, but the heavens have got their filth, too.

“Thank you.” She speaks in a whisper as the world above falls back into place, blanketing them both in shadow and the scent of soil and brimstone. Politeness seems unnecessary, now, though he places her gently onto her feet.

He’s far too mesmerized to stop himself from dropping to his knees in front of her and trailing a hand from her knee to her thigh, squeezing flesh so warm that the very feeling lingers pleasantly against his palm.

If a god couldn’t pluck him from this emptiness and set him on a right path, perhaps a goddess could, as he has always imagined. It’s only confirmed the instant he realizes she isn’t flinching away from his touch.

“I didn’t save you,” he explains calmly.

He’s struck down titans, claimed rulership over the underworld, and yet nothing has made him feel smaller than the fretful look in her eyes as she looks down to him kneeling before her like little more than a common man. As if to provide comfort, selfishly to himself, his massive hands drift higher to rest on her hips still wet with river water and blades of grass clinging to her just as he has longed to do. For what’s felt like an eternity of waiting, of pining, only to have it end with something as simple as a flower.

“I brought you here.”

She’s still beautiful when she cries; a palm is clasped over her mouth, eyes swimming as she trembles in his grip. Of course, she knows what this is about without ever having to ask, yet she still does as if to plead him to tell her that her thoughts are all wrong— that she’s safe and will return to her lovely friends, to her mother that would assuredly be worried sick and furious.

The rise to his feet feels like a mile long stretch, whilst he keeps her caged between the dirty wall and the vast expanse of chest. He shushes her with a gentle tone, wipes her tears away with the ghosting of fingertips before pushing up the veil covering his face to lie claim to her mouth as though his very life depended upon it. Perhaps it did. Though he did not fear Demeter, nor his brothers should she call upon them, he feared not having this ethereal, gentle thing at his side. He feared the creep of loneliness that ravaged his bed each night.

She sighs against his mouth, but does not reciprocate. Everything about her is tense and stressed, a wild mare preparing to kick out for the first time. His tongue lolls out to lap against her soft lips, just twice before he forces himself to part from her.

His beloved brushes away stray tears from her cheeks with the meat of her palms, shivering just a little as she tries to force herself to straighten up, appear braver despite the way she teeters on the edge of falling apart so easily before him. The heavy gaze of obsession fixed upon his face turns further predacious when she apologizes for not being able to help herself in response.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” she explains, holding out the ruined flower to him in one, shaking hand. She protests in her own way, eternally kind, but it all falls on deaf ears as he brushes the petals from her palm and takes her up into his arms again. With an arm beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped tightly around her middle, he leads her deeper into the underworld.

A mere taste wouldn’t do.

Her protests are nothing more than soft sniffles when he does take her to his bed of pelts, her arm even thrown over his shoulder as her body presses tightly to him. He thinks for only a moment that he could take his time, stop this all before she truly does grow to loathe him, but the descent into the bed only fortifies his resolve; his belief that this gentle woman of the earth, who smells of magnolia and clear waters belonged entirely to him. For now and forevermore.

“You are to be my wife.”

That quiets her for a moment, her eyes finally meeting his once more as he hovers over her, a palm to either side of her head. She has a mind to shyly curl her hand against her chest then, centered between her breasts which rise and fall with each flighty breath. It’s not panic, but more— curiosity, a misleading thing that he takes to be acceptance until she graces him with a mere murmur of her voice again.

“I don’t belong here.”

König knows that she doesn’t belong in a place like this, for all her grace to be lost to the cold, the rot; his kingdom is nothing but a wasteland riddled with the dead and subjects who take up the mantle of cruelty in his stead. The thought of actually allowing her to go instills rage and melancholy so quickly, he curls his fingers into the fur below to keep himself from flinching.

“You will.”

A digit reaches to trail across her bottom lip, tentative, but the need to touch overwhelms him past the point of caring for much else. To his amazement, she still does not push him away.

“How could that be?”

He doesn’t respond.

More than bedding her, a matter more pressing pushes to the forefront of his mind. Though he knows the likelihood of anyone being aware of her disappearance is nonexistent, a mere whisper from the beaks of crows by this time, he would do well to ensure that she wasn’t leaving. Just as every other soul resigned to dwell here with him, she too would remain.

“You’re famished,” he whispers the suggestion as he splays a palm out over her bare abdomen, only backing away enough to allow her a small length of space between them.

Her concerned stare shoots from his palm to his veil in an instant before she weakly nods her head and props herself up on her elbows.

“Quite… yes.”

She allows herself to be pulled into his lap without a fuss, doesn’t make mention of the hardened cock beneath her. His mind is swimming with the fantasies that kept him tame on so many nights without her as he presses his nose against her temple. A shallow intake of breath, and her lips part readily for him as he pushes the sweet pomegranate seed into her mouth, savoring the brush of her tongue against his fingertip. She eats without thought, never knowing how she’s tethered herself to his plane.

There’s an offering of sweet wine followed by a gathering of honeysuckle for her to sip the nectar from as well before he’s convinced she’s pliant enough. Despite the desire raging within him for all of this time, he would not be cruel to her. The thought of hurting this sweet, little dream doesn’t excite him. It’s her love that he wants, not her anguish.

He lies her back with sweet whispers, gentle caresses as he listens to her murmurs in response. She speaks of the stories only small creatures would know; the way the winds change and the rivers flood, the prettiest places she’s been. No fruit has ever tasted sweeter to her than the pomegranate, and nothing has ever filled him with such emotion as the moment he penetrates her.

He speaks to her through it, tries to, whilst he’s overcome with a pleasure that assuredly no other has ever had the blessing of. She affixes herself perfectly to him, clinging to him as he takes her with gentle thrusts. Gritted teeth and barely contained grunts are met with dulcet mewls as her hands reach for his. His heart aches, truly, at the knowledge that she isn’t meant for this place; his kingdom is nothing but suffering, and she belongs beneath the sun in meadows of flowers. His last thrust is deep, reminds him of the places he dares not tread often, the domains of his brothers, pillow soft clouds and a heaven far above, lost to him.

It’s her consoling him when he fills her to bursting with his seed— delicate arms curling around his head, cradling him against her breasts as she silenced the tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed. He had damned her, yet her soul had not soured; not all flowers withered in the dark.

The endless night is easier on his beloved after the first. She visits with the other souls and comes to him for comfort when the screams and cries in the darkness become too much to bear. She’s less fragile than he had anticipated when she demands he bring her home, and those demands so often end with little else than König taking her into his arms to lead her elsewhere. The underworld can be beautiful too, when seated upon a throne being hand fed by a man that knows little more than to blanket her in as much softness as he can muster. He tells her of the titanomachy, of the white tree, of anything to keep her entertained. His tongue does not shy from telling her that he loves her, too, often met with a shy glance or a soft giggle. Not outright disdain, and for now it feels enough.

She cries often, in longing for her mother and her friends, though never over this love she had never sought herself. Her loneliness only fuels her need for comfort. Selfishly, he believes that he’s saved the night she willingly wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and falls asleep nestled against his chest.

— — —

With the reliance on mortal offerings and Demeter’s anguish having been brought to light with seasons of failed harvests, it was only a matter of time before she was forced away from him. The months without her feel dreadful and empty, but he doesn’t dare disturb her while she walks the earth at her mother’s side. The agreement was beneficial for all of the gods and goddesses, and he knew better than to tread upon it by rushing to her like little more than a pleading dog. When winter took hold, bathing the lands in its icy touch and withering the plants she cherished and freezing over the rivers her nymphs played in, she would return to him as she must.

Each time is different. His beloved is not simply a thoughtless vessel as many of his subordinates. She is the most incredible thing he’s ever had the joy of meeting.

When she returns in tears, calling to him for his comfort he does not hesitate to kiss them all away and remind her that her summers will return and everything above will be just as it was on the day that he brought her below.

Sometimes, she’s angry, jealous even. She asks him often why he doesn’t come to see her while she’s away. He is her husband, after all. Was there anyone else in which he spent his nights with? Someone fairer than even she? The satisfaction of seating her on his cock, satisfying her as she does him on their shared throne far out rivals even ruling the domain itself. He would do anything to prove to her that she was his only; the sole thing he even thought of whilst her mind was filled with new songs and tales from the nymphs she spent her time away with.

Never has she returned with a gift.

Yet, she stumbles back into his realm clutching a small satchel, dripping with the scent of a juice sweet and familiar. A pleasant smile paints her features as she seats herself next to him on the throne. The bench of marble felt far too vast and dreadful to hold someone so delicate, the sight is something he’s grown accustomed to; emptiness is replaced with familiarity seeing her interact with anything here. It may not be home to her, but something in the way she looks to him— as she always had with tenderness, makes him question if a part of her sees him as home.

“I’ve brought something back for you,” she chimes as she pats her thigh.

Each time was different, but it had never been like this before.

He pulls himself to her side before slumping down to rest his head against her, tracing his fingertips along the length of her leg as his gaze drops almost sheepishly.

“Did you?”

She hums in reply, plucking one of the seeds from the satchel before slipping her hand beneath the veil to feed him. His lips part as he takes in the flavor of the aril, the honeyed taste almost akin to the look in her eyes.

“Just like…” She trails off for a moment as she lowers her head to press a kiss to the cheek of his veiled face. The delicate laugh that follows is unlike any he’s heard from her prior, it’s unique, saved solely for him.

“The six that I fed to you?” He asks her quietly, as he pulls himself away from her to meet her eyes directly. The air around them feels thick, loosely charged with a feeling that he can’t quite place; an intensity that he’s never felt before. Any groaning or wailing off in the abyss is silent now, just quiet words spoken.

Things have always felt warmer since her descent, but he’s learned to not expect anything more than she was willing to give. Still, hope cinches his heart tighter than it ever did prior. Even in battle, slaying his father alongside his brothers, he had never felt his heart race the way it does now.

She nods her head, opening up the satchel just wide enough to reveal the other five arils.

“I don’t think that I understand.”

“You should.”

He mulls over that for a moment before the fog finally clears. Any doubt that he had is remedied by a mere two words. He stares at her dumbly, searching her eyes for any hint that this is some horrible, cruel trick; that the implication is something he’s horribly misunderstood.

She couldn’t possibly come to love him… could she?

“To tie you to me,” she says softly.

The smile remains on her face when she closes the distance to kiss him. Not over the veil, but beneath it this time.

Her descent was one of a selfish longing, and his felt as though he was plunging into a world of flowers.

[tightjeansjavi]

Forsaken, Forgotten Without Any Love

A/N: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THIS FIC IS VERY DARK AND MAY BE TRAUMATIC FOR SOME READERS. PLEASE READ EACH INDIVIDUAL WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME. Thank you to my pookie @syd-djarin for betaing and the beautiful moodboard <3 this is for my June writing challenge lovers to enemies

word count: 15.3k

Summary: you and Joel Miller met in the springtime. You were as naive as a fawn, and he was a ruthless guard dog. You were willing to do anything to survive, and he could offer you protection for the exchange of your body and whatever else he wanted. The mutual understanding you had worked…until it didn’t.

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: ‼️DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️GRAPHIC NON/CON, HEAVY COERCION AND MANIPULATION, VERBAL ABUSE, THREATS, TRAUMATIC VIRGINITY LOSS, CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE, GASLIGHTING, MISOGYNY, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, LANGUAGE, IMPLIED AGE GAP (READER IS OF VOTING AGE WHEN THE OUTBREAK HAPPENS), SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, THANATOPHOBIA (FEAR OF DEATH AND DYING) MENTIONS OF GUNS/KNIVES, SEX IN EXCHANGE FOR PROTECTION, NO HAPPY ENDING, HEAVY, HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST & GRAPHIC THEMES, readers nickname is little fawn, +18 MINORS DNI!

We met in the springtime when blossoms unfold. The pastures were green and the meadows were gold. Our love was in flower as summer grew on, her love like the leaves now have withered and gone.

Forsaken - abandoned or deserted

When you and Joel Miller first met after the world had gone to shit, and the home you once knew was no longer, it was springtime in the Boston QZ. The name Joel Miller rolled off the tongues of many residents of what remained of Boston. But who was Joel Miller really? Just another survivor haunted by the looming shadows of his past? A man hardened by loss, grief, and indescribable pain? Or was he more than just his brute strength, quick tongue, and menacing stature?

You never intended to find out what laid beneath his defensive façade, but like most things, it all happened…unexpectedly.

“I can’t.” You whispered solemnly through the drenched fabric of the bandana secured around your face. A makeshift mask to help with the constant stench of rotting flesh, death, and charred bones. It was one of the many grueling jobs the QZ had to offer, but it was not meant for those with a weak stomach as you learned very quickly.

He turned to you, a ghost of a scoff painted on his cracked and dehydrated lips. He barely acknowledged your presence with a slight roll of his shoulders. His piercing brown eyes hardened on your face, and then the culprit of your reason to bother him. A child, wrapped in a dirty cloth to be discarded with the rest of the dead infected, lay in the open bed of the truck, face covered completely.

When you opened your mouth to speak again, perhaps an explanation as to why you couldn’t dispose of the adolescents body, Joel Miller let out a grunt, brushing against your shoulder rather roughly. His arms tucked under the child’s limp corpse, lifting it from the bed of the truck with ease. He felt nothing, no remorse, not a lick of empathy washed over him.

“Move.” He snipped unkindly.

Your jaw went slack at his harshness, teeth grinding down and catching on the sensitive flesh of your inner cheek causing a burst of copper to ignite on your tongue. You stepped off to the side, body working on autopilot at this mystery man’s gruff command.

Joel could have shown that his latent Texas gentleman manners were not completely buried. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead he marched past you, carrying the corpse to the nearby pit. He paused, looking straight ahead with a dull expression on his face before he dropped the corpse from his arms and into the smoldering flames below.

He walked back to the truck where you were left dumbly standing looking like a lost lamb in all of this surrounding death. He wiped the dirt and grime from his hands with an old rag that was sticking out of the worn denim jeans that clung to his thighs like a vice. “Jus’ a word of advice, don’t let anyone around here know your weakness. They’ll tear you apart before you even see ‘em coming.” His unmistakable Texas twang reminded you of home, a simpler time when the world was normal and each day was promised, or so you used to believe.

“Thank you.” You nodded, reaching your hand out as an offering, an extension of friendship that sent his right eye twitching at your meekness.

“Ain’t a reason to thank me. Didn’t ask for it.” He eyed your outstretched hand suspiciously, eyes narrowed and brows tightly furrowed across his forehead.

You frowned, unable to conceal your immediate reaction to his denial of your kindness. Despite the world fucking ending, and your own losses, you were softer than most, and that made you an easy target. You were as soft as salt water taffy melting on someone’s tongue. Or the gooey center of a charred marshmallow on a stick. Joel Miller wasn’t accustomed to someone of the likes of you. You were foreign, something taboo—too soft for his liking. How the hell you managed to survive the cordyceps outbreak was beyond him.

He didn’t even give you the chance to respond when he abruptly turned on the heel of his steel-toed boots, and stalked off in the direction of where the ration cards for the day's work were being distributed. He staggered at an angle that looked mildly uncomfortable, especially in his lower back, and you could see that he favored his dominant side based on his gait. The words you planned to present to him died in your throat. You couldn’t help but feel miffed by his dismissal, but all the more intrigued to know what this grumpy, guarded man was really all about.

-

Every resident in the QZ had their means to get by in life. Some kept going for family, others for power and brutality—authority above all. Some were like Joel Miller; holding little value to their life, and spending their days drinking like a fish, and popping smuggled pills to alleviate the constant emotional and physical pain that they carried like a heavy burden on their shoulders. As for you? You simply were just trying to get by unscathed. Death terrified you, haunted you even in your dreams. Your survival was purely based on luck, with little to no survival skill sets. It was a fucking miracle that you had survived this long on your own.

That’s why you were the perfect candidate to join the elusive Fireflies. Marlene sought you out one evening before curfew in the QZ’s makeshift community circle. It was an open space sheltered between two buildings where residents could converse freely for a short period of time. Marlene and the Fireflies had one goal in mind; to overthrow FEDRA and liberate all of Boston’s QZ residents from the government's cruel and unjust authority.

Marlene could sense that you were weak minded and naive the second she laid eyes on you from across the way. The way you nervously fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, glancing around every so often as if you had something to hide. You stuck out like a sore thumb, the ugly duckling in a sea of normal…people.

The chair adjacent from where you were sitting scraped along the concrete like nails on chalkboard and your posture immediately stiffened at the sudden intrusion. Your invisible safety bubble had been popped, and there was nowhere for you to hide.

“Easy, friend.” Her tone was a complete juxtaposition to Joel’s innate harshness. Marlene’s eyes were kind, soft in the low light of the slow setting sun. You felt like you could immediately trust her, and maybe even view her as an ally? “Mind if I sit?” She gestured to the chair across from you, the same chair that dragged across the concrete and made you alert in the first place.

You eyed this stranger warily, glancing around before you meekly nodded, not finding your words quite yet. Marlene pulled up the chair, sitting down quietly with her forearms resting against the table in a casual motion.

“So.” She started, “you’re fairly new to the QZ, aren’t you?”

“…yes, how did you know?” You weren’t aware that you were sitting across from one of FEDRA’s most wanted, and the leader of the rebellious group known as the Fireflies.

“Sweetheart, I have eyes and ears all over the QZ.” She gestured to the surrounding area with her hands in emphasis.

“Really?” Your eyes widened slightly in shock and for a moment you were questioning whether you should get up and leave, or wait to hear what this woman had to say. “Are you…FEDRA?”

“No, not FEDRA.” She shook her head, reaching her hand out across the table in your direction, “I’m Marlene, leader of the rebellion, and commander of the Boston QZ Fireflies.”

Fireflies. You had heard the hushed whisperings of the ‘terrorist’ group that was at war with FEDRA. Sometimes there were calculated bombings, planned attacks, all for the cause of liberation and justice for the QZ residents—so you had heard.

You reached for her outstretched hand, giving it a gentle, yet firm squeeze before retracting your own hand back to your lap. You’re just about to tell Marlene your name, when your attention is stolen by something-someone. That someone being Joel Miller. He wasn’t alone. A woman walked alongside him, and from the angle you were sitting at, you could see his hand resting protectively against the small of her back.

His eyes were looking ahead, not behind or the area surrounding him. He was intently focused even as his companion leaned in close to him, her lips moving but you couldn’t make out the words. His chin dipped towards her, thick fingers flexing against that sliver of skin between the top of her jeans and the hem of her shirt.

You found yourself transfixed by his subtle movements, his natural authority permeating the small space. No one even dared to look directly at him, no one except you. He could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of his face and he clenched his jaw tightly, cocking his head in the direction of the last empty table before he nudged his companion in that direction.

Marlene had said something to you, but you didn’t hear her the first time because you were frozen in your seat when Joel Miller’s piercing glare landed upon your face. He scowled, grinding his teeth together. He recognized you, that was a fact. But just as quickly as you had his attention for a fleeting moment, it was gone and he had sauntered off, taking the seat across from his partner.

Marlene watched the whole silent exchange go down from her seat. She observed your body posture intently, brow raised in curiosity. She leaned forward over the small expanse of the table, tone low, almost at a whisper, “do you know that man?”

You shook your head, meeting her curious gaze. “No—I mean, not really. He…sorta helped me out the other day though. I don’t have a strong stomach in the slightest and—”

An incredulous look crossed her face immediately to hear that Joel Miller ‘helped’ someone? She called bullshit immediately.

“Joel Miller did you a favor? That’s unlike his character. Only good thing that man has ever done is introduce me to his brother.” Marlene said almost bitterly.

So, that was his name. Joel Miller.

“He has a brother? Is he in the QZ as well? I guess…maybe it wasn’t a favor necessarily, but in my eyes it was.”

She nodded. “Yes, his brother's name is Tommy. He’s in Wyoming now. Tommy, like myself, was a firefly and Joel…he wasn’t too keen on his brother joining a rebel alliance. I tried to get him and his partner, Tess, to join our cause as well, but they wanted nothing to do with it. So, Joel and Tommy had a massive falling out, and Tommy left the QZ shortly after.”

“Marlene, when you said that the only good thing Joel has ever done is introduce you to his brother, what did you mean by that exactly? Is he…dangerous?”

“Sweetheart.” She started, almost in a patronizing tone, “he and Tess are the kinda folks you don’t want to associate yourself with. If you’re not careful, you’ll get caught up in their web. They ain’t good people. Did a lot of bad things before they ended up here. Killed a lot of innocent people and now they practically have FEDRA wrapped around their finger…most days.”

You mulled her words over in your head, falling into a silent thought of determining whether Joel Miller was who she said he was, or if he was more than just his past. You imagined he, like most of the surviving population, did what he had to do to keep himself and his kin alive. How could Marlene judge him for that?

“You tell me to look for the light, and I’ll break your jaw.”

His low, menacing tone rumbled like thunder in the distance, and the person he was addressing immediately scampered off into the shadows like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Marlene, I mean no offense by this, truly, but didn’t everyone have to kill innocent people at some point to survive?” You couldn’t help but question her logic and reason to judge.

“Let me reiterate what I mean by that. You know what raiders are, don’t you?”

You nodded.

“Well, Joel and Tess were raiders at one point. Tommy as well, but Joel was the driving force of their operation. He was ruthless—still is.”

All you were hearing from her words was that Joel Miller was a capable man. More capable than most. He had a history of violence, and whether that was solely for the means of survival, or because he was a murderous, blood thirsty psychopath, did not concern you in the slightest. Joel Miller was exactly the kind of man that you were looking for. The kind of man that would lay down his own life for yours. The kind of man who would tend to your wounds, and then rip your enemies apart limb from limb, and then come home to you drenched in their blood; a badge of his conquest at exacting revenge.

Joel Miller was the type of man who would ensure your own survival above all else.

“If it’s protection you’re looking for, the Fireflies can offer you that.” Marlene interjected after you didn’t initially respond to her previous statement.

You chewed on your lower lip, gnawing on it for a moment feeling vulnerable and exposed when Marlene was easily able to read between the lines. You thought you were more discreet than that. More guarded, not a weak minded damsel in distress.

“What makes you think that I’m looking for protection?” You quipped back, opting to lean into the defensive side, rather than admit that you were in fact seeking just that.

Marlene stifled a laugh, briefly catching the attention of Joel from across the way. “You’ve been on edge since the moment I sat down. You stick out like a sore fuckin’ thumb, and I’m surprised that you haven’t realized sooner that you’re practically a fawn in the midst of a pack of wolves.”

Marlene was right. She hit the nail right on the fucking head. You weren’t cutthroat like Joel. You survived this long purely based on dumb fucking luck. Not because you were skilled with a weapon, or had fists of steel. You were not violent in nature, you had only killed when necessary, and you stayed hidden when trouble arose; much like a fawn in the dense thicket. Marlene didn’t need to know that you were seeking protection, that every night you lay awake fearing death and ending up pitifully alone; unloved.

“You don’t fucking know me, or what I need.” You hissed, finally finding your voice and standing your ground. You pushed your chair back abruptly, the bottom of it scraping on the concrete, and catching the attention of everyone in the secluded, intimate space.

Marlene shrugged at your defiance, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She may have not been successful in this first attempt, but she got under your skin, and that was only the start of it.

Unbeknownst to you or Marlene, Joel had silently eavesdropped your entire conversation, growing stiff suddenly when he picked up on Marlene’s little ploy to manipulate you to join the Fireflies. You may have been a nobody, bare bones and all, but he’d be damned if another naive soul would end up wrapped and constricted in Marlene’s web of empty promises and lies.

Preventing you from joining the Fireflies was about to become Joel Miller’s personal vendetta, and you hadn’t a fucking a clue. As far as he was concerned, the only person in this entire shithole QZ who would ever get close to sinking their talons into your flesh, was himself.

He watched you storm away from the table, your fists clenched tightly at your sides. You feel someone’s eyes locked onto the back of your head, but you didn’t dare turn around to see if your assumptions were true; you just knew.

~~

The following morning you and the rest of the QZ residents were required to attend a public execution before work would begin for the day. Three individuals were sentenced to death for breaking curfew, and attempting to leave the QZ without authorization. The three guilty perpetrators stood in a row, their faces covered with a cloth loosely draped around their heads so they could not be identified.

As the charges of the crimes that were committed were read out, you could feel your knees grow weak, and nausea bubbled deep in the pit of your stomach. Could you be next?

Joel Miller was in the crowd as well, concealed and aloof, but you could sense his domineering presence immediately, and he could sense you as if he was like a moth drawn to a flame. He imagined you couldn’t stomach the prospect of a public execution, and his assumptions were true when he saw you slipping between bystanders and fleeing towards the nearest alley.

He was quick to follow you, feeling more intrigued than anything when you scurried away like a little mouse. He took his time as he was in no rush, and well—there was nowhere else for you to go. He shoved his hands deep within the caverns of his jean pockets, his footsteps were heavy and calculated when he turned the corner to the alley.

You were waiting for him with your trusty pocket knife armed at your side, whipping around to face whoever had left the crowd to follow you. Your teeth were barred as if you were a cornered animal ready to attack if provoked.

He slipped his hands out of his pockets, holding them up so that you could determine that he wasn’t an immediate threat. His dark pools of brown locked onto your face and his head was slightly cocked to the side. “Easy there, little fawn. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He rasped.

You took a shaky inhale, palms beginning to sweat and your grip around the worn hilt of your knife began to slip from the clamminess. You took a timid step back, closer to the impending brick wall behind you. “Yeah? I’d believe that if you—”

“If I what?” He challenged, taking a step closer to where you stood.

“If you didn’t follow me here like a goddamn stalker, Joel!” You half yelled.

“Hey!” He snapped calmly, “easy. Don’t wanna be drawin’ any unwanted attention to ourselves, do we? And for the record, I do believe that you were the one stalkin’ me the other night.”

“Excuse me? I—I don’t even know you! Why the hell would you think I was stalking you?!” You took another step back, the hem of your shirt just barely grazed against the exposed brick wall.

“Oh, so that wasn’t you sittin’ with Marlene?” He questioned you dryly, shaking his head with a grin tugging on the corner of his lips. “It wasn’t you prying for some information on me? Guess I oughta go get my eyes and ears fuckin’ checked then…oh, wait! Can’t really do that, huh?” He scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

“If I’m not mistaken, it sure as hell sounds like you were the one spying on me.” You quipped back, nearly stumbling when the heel of your boot made contact with the brick wall; now he had you trapped.

“No, you are mistaken. M’jus’ a real observant guy. Plus, sniffin’ out a snake in the grass like Marlene ain’t rocket science. She give you her whole ‘liberation’ for all bullshit?”

“I don’t know, Joel. Did she?”

He looked amused by your response, not expecting you to bite back so fast, but at least now he knew you had a little gumption to work with, but instead of indulging you in your insignificant win, he danced around the subject to catch you off guard.

“That’s a pretty dull fuckin’ knife you got there, little fawn. Ain’t gonna do much stabbin’ with it lookin’ like that. When’s the last time you got it sharpened?”

You did not appreciate, nor like how he effortlessly changed the conversation on you in a blink of an eye. You glared at him, struggling to hold your ground when he was nearly on top of you, one step closer and his chest would be pressed against yours.

“I think it’s more than capable of doing a considerable amount of damage to you if you don’t back the fuck up in the next five—”

“Yeah?” He pressed, looming over you like a shadow blocking the sun, “I’d love to see you try.” He snarled.

And well, you did. A pitiful attempt that he immediately saw coming. It took nothing for him to overpower you as if you were a helpless bug beneath his steel toed boots. The knife was yanked from your grip, your wrists pinned in one of his large hands like a dart on a board. His eyes were a shade darker up close and they were locked onto you.

“Now I understand why Marlene wanted you in the first place.” He snickered, “you really are that fuckin’ gullible.”

“Y—you don’t know shit about me! You think you do, but you don’t!” You tried to push against his chest, but he was like a slab of concrete or an unmoving mountain.

“No?” His eyebrows quirked upwards in amusement. Toying with your fragile mind and now wounded ego was easier than he imagined. “Think you’re wrong, little fawn. You’re pretty damn readable, and that ain’t somethin’ that you want to deal with ‘round here. You might actually be the most transparent person in the entire fuckin’ Boston QZ.”

“W—why are you calling me that?”

“Because, you remind me of a fawn. You’re meek, quiet, and…naive.”

You wanted to yell and scream till you were blue in the face, but what was the point? Marlene saw right through you, and so did Joel. Maybe…you could use this to your advantage, somehow.

He backed off you then, dropping your wrists from his grip and gave you the space to breathe finally. He flipped your dull pocket knife over a few times, brushing his thumb against the unsharpened steel with a light scoff and subtle roll of his eyes. “You can’t even kill a clicker with this thing. You realize that, right? What was your plan if someone else followed you back here, huh?”

He was making your head spin, all this back and forth bantering, and him getting under your skin was becoming too much. Why the hell did he care, anyway? Did he always prey on the weak minded? Or did you just happen to become his unfortunate target?

“I didn’t really…have a plan.” You said quietly under your breath, taking a moment to rest your head back against the cool brick wall.

“Good god, girl. You didn’t have a fuckin’ plan of action?! You really are a damsel in distress.”

“I am not a damsel in distress! You’re just some asshole that clearly has nothing better to do except prey on the weak minded! So, how about you just go pick on someone your own size!”

“So, you agree that you are weak minded? Yeah, Marlene sure as fuck would have had you wrapped around her fuckin’ finger and indoctrinated into her fuckin’ terrorist cult.”

“Sounds like you have a fucking problem with Marlene, and not me.” You attempted to walk away for good, but his palm reached out to stop you, pressing flat between your breastbone, leaving you both feeling surprised.

“Relax, would ya? I see right through your little tough girl gimmicks, and so does everyone else. I also happen to know that you, my dear, are terrified. It’s written all over your pretty face, and of what exactly? I can take a few educated guesses, but I think I’ve already humiliated you enough for one day.”

You were stunned into silence. Pacified by his words and the weight they held over you.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He concluded. The rational part of his brain was telling him to ease off and let it fucking go. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t fall into Marlene’s trap after all. The other part of him? Well, you can just imagine how it was telling him to proceed with tormenting you. “If it were anyone else that followed you back here, they would have the means to hurt you. And I don’t mean just by killing you, little fawn. You think that just cus’ we’re under the governments ‘protection’ that evil people ain’t just roamin’ around here freely lookin’ for their next meal?”

“Yeah? And are you one of those evil people, Joel?” If he was gonna go for your jugular, you were gonna go straight for his.

“Might be.” He shrugged indifferently. “If I had the means to hurt you, I would have already done it.”

He did make a fair point. He was a capable guy, and if he had ulterior motives to cause you harm, you would surely be dead already. Still, you were weary nonetheless, but also intrigued.

“Okay, so you don’t have the means to kill me and that’s great, Joel. I’m relieved, but I’m failing to understand…why did you follow me back here in the first place?”

“Because, little fawn, I have exactly what you’re looking for, what you need. No reason to lie to ourselves here, right? Especially when I’ve already got you figured out. You can deny it all you want, but I know a terrified person when I see one. You ain’t gonna last long lookin’ like a fuckin’ target to every passerby.”

“And what exactly do you think that I need, Joel?”

“Protection.” He stated simply.

“And what's in it for you?”

He thought about coming up with a lie, something that sounded convincing so you wouldn’t question his motives, but he chose the latter in the end.

“Means that Marlene doesn’t get to sink her fuckin’ claws into another naive person such as yourself. Less Firefly scum for me to deal with, and you’re too pretty to end up with a bullet between the eyes.”

Maybe it was the way that Joel Miller was looking at you like you were about to be his next meal, or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever called you pretty before. This guard dog of a man was the first person to ever truly take in your physical appearance, and man, did that feel fucking good.

“You think I’m pretty, do ya?” Your tone came out teasingly, mildly playful, and not what Joel was expecting from you at all.

“Christ.” He laughed, “is that really all you fuckin’ got outta what I was jus’ sayin? That I think you’re pretty? Don’t let that feed your little ego now, alright? That‘ll get you killed, too.”

You wanted to tell him that no one ever called you pretty before, but that felt too personal, too vulnerable. So, instead, you shrugged your shoulders and raised your brow suggestively in his direction. “I heard you loud and clear, Joel.”

“Good. Cause I ain’t gonna repeat myself.” He glanced around the secluded alley for a moment, mulling his thoughts over before he returned your knife to you with the blade facing downwards. His rough, calloused fingers brushed against your own when he returned the hilt of your knife to your palm. “For starters, let’s get that pathetic excuse of a knife sharpened.”

You nodded, tucking it back into your concealed holster around your waist. “Lead the way, Miller.”

He looked you over once more, brows tightly furrowed together, shoulders stiff before he turned on his heel and started to walk towards the opening of the alley. “Hurry up, little fawn. We ain’t got all day.”

You had just secured yourself your very own lethal guard dog, claws and all.

~~

Up until this point, you hadn’t thought about the prospect of Joel Miller wanting to fuck you. In your mind, he truly was just inviting you to his shitty little apartment to sharpen your knife and send you on your way. You were beginning to believe that his little fear tactic in the alley was just his bark, but you were about to experience his bite very, very, soon.

He said no more than a few words to you, a few grunts here and there when you ended up rambling because you finally had someone to talk to. He acknowledged your existence, and that was good enough for you to at least be seen.

“Do you always talk this fuckin’ much?” He gruffed out from where he was hunched over at the kitchen table, dragging the edge of your knife along what appeared to be a large, flat stone.

“Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, sinking further against the old, musty couch that had seen far better days.

“Thas’ better.” He mused.

A man of few words…unless he wants something.

“It’s getting late…I should probably head home before curfew. Can we pick this back up again tomorrow? FEDRA is gonna start patrolling soon and—”

He looked up from where he was focused on dragging the edge of the blade at an angle against the stone to gradually sharpen it. The glare he sent your way immediately had your blood running cold.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually that fuckin’ naive to believe that my generous services are free of charge, little fawn.” He tsked under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment.

Maybe you were the naive one to follow the wolf right back to his den.

Your eyes widened, fists clenching at your sides when the realization that you willingly followed this…stranger back to his apartment hit you and sent the warning alarms in your brain blaring immediately.

“I—I have ration cards.” You meekly responded.

He cocked his head to the side, lips curving upwards into a wolfish grin. “My god.” He chuckled, “you really are that fuckin’ naive, huh? You think I’m doin’ this because I’m a good man or somethin?’”

“Well, you said that you—”

He rose from the chair then, the hilt of your freshly sharpened knife clutched at his side. His eyes stayed locked on you as he staggered forward, coming closer to where you were sitting on his couch.

“And you really believed in every word that came out of my mouth?” He questioned dryly.

“I—I didn’t see a reason not to, you said that if you wanted to hurt me, you would have already done it.”

“You’re right, little fawn. I would have already hurt you if those were my true intentions, but you’re so foolishly naive to believe that I’m doin’ this out of the goodness in my heart.”

You were frozen on the spot when he stopped at the edge of the couch, bending down to meet your eye level, towering over you in such a menacing way, you truly thought right then and there that this man did lie to you, and you were going to die at his hand. Your body flinched on instinct when one of his big palms came to rest against the wall alongside your head, while his occupied hand that was still grasping your knife stayed glued to his side.

“I—I don’t have anything else I can offer you, Joel.” You met his gaze, trembling when he leaned in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you’re truly jus’ beauty with no brains, sweetheart.” He cooed softly.

Your lips parted open in shock as you began to read between the lines of the words coming out of his mouth. He didn’t want your ration cards, he wanted you, and not just a piece. He wanted all of you.

“There she is.” He preened, “Knew you weren’t all that dumb. Those gears in your pretty little head finally turnin’?”

You wanted to bite back, to snap at him so that you wouldn’t feel so fuckin’ small, but he had you locked in a trance right where he wanted you, and deep down…you liked it.

“…you want me?” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

“Mhm.” He nodded in confirmation. “You didn’t think that I just said you were pretty without havin’ some ulterior motive in mind, did ya? You’re the one who decided to trust me so easily. The second I confirmed that I didn’t want to hurt ya, you wrote me off as a good man. Well, sweetheart, I hate to break the pretty picture you painted of me in your head, but I ain’t a good man. I don’t have the means to hurt you, but I have every intention to take what I fuckin’ want from you.” His forehead was nearly pressed against yours now, hot breath fanning your face. “Jus’ remember that you willingly followed me back to my apartment, and take this as a warning to not be so easily swayed to trust a fuckin’ stranger.”

You swallowed the lump that was gradually growing in your throat as your flight or fight instincts were in full swing. You briefly eyed your knife in his hand, thinking that maybe…you could get out of this, but he would be quicker, surely. He’d overpower you in a heartbeat.

“I’m a virgin, Joel. Are you sure you still want me, knowing what you know now?”

He stalled briefly, caught off guard by your admittance. He thought that maybe this was your cheap way of trying to get out of this situation all together, but based on your trembling, and overall demeanor, he could tell you weren’t lying and he took some satisfaction in knowing that he was about to be your first; completely his.

“You think thas’ gonna stop me from wantin’ to fuck you, little fawn?”

You shook your head quickly and pressed yourself as far against the couch as you possibly could. “No—no, I—I just wanted you to know.” You squeaked out.

He nods, flipping your knife in his hand a few times while his other hand slowly drops to rest against the crown of your head, “if anythin’, it makes me want to fuck you even more now. Can take whatever I want from you, and make you mine. How’s that sound to you, hmm?”

“Can you…promise me it won’t hurt? I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want, Joel.”

Whatever I have to do to live another day, I’ll do it. Keep me alive, and you can take whatever you want from me.

“It’ll hurt a little, sweetheart. Better me than anyone else. I’ll only be gentle till you’re adjusted. After that, I ain’t gonna hold back.” While his words were blunt and straight to the point, his tone was soft, gentle even.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.”

“Good. Thas’ good to hear, little fawn.” He gently dragged his thumb against your hair, feeling the texture of it beneath his hold, and how if he truly wanted to, he could crush you like a bug beneath his hand.

Your hands worked on autopilot to reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, fingers shaking against the fabric.

He shook his head, brows raising in slight amusement. “No.” He rasped sternly, “I’m going to undress you. Hands off, and keep ‘em where I can see them, got it?”

You nodded, dropping your hands to rest along your jean clad thighs.

“Wanna show you just how sharp I got your lil’ knife now. Can cut through just about anythin’, I reckon.” He mused, secretly hoping to ease your impending fears just enough that your body would naturally begin to relax.

You took a shuddered inhale when the edge of your freshly sharpened knife rose and rested against your concealed breastbone, sending your heartbeat racing and rattling out of your chest like a stampede.

“Relax.” He whispered, careful to not apply too much pressure, but just enough that the blade easily cut through your flimsy top as if it was made of cheap paper. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your words were lodged in your throat as tears began to spring to the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help it, you were terrified. One wrong move…

“Joel…please.” Was all you were able to get out. His hand that was gently resting on the crown of your head dropped down to gently cradle your face. His big thumb brushed directly under the tears leaking from your eyes, gathering them up with a soft sigh.

“If you listen to me and relax, this will feel good for you, little fawn. You jus’—gotta let me have my fun first, alright?”

You let out a silent sob, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to wrap your mind around how this could possibly be fun for him. “This—this is fun for you?”

His nostrils flared, reminding you of one of those animated bulls from the old cartoons you used to watch as a kid on Saturday mornings. He let out a sigh, grinding his jaw and shaking his head. “Course this is fun for me. I told you already, little fawn. I ain’t a good man.” He carelessly yanked the scraps of your shirt down your arms and torso before he dragged the knife upwards towards your flimsy bra straps. “Only reason I’m choosin’ to be somewhat merciful on you is because you’re a virgin. If you weren’t, I would have shoved my cock so far down your throat, you’d be chokin’ on it, sweet girl. Gonna save that for another time.” He reassured you.

“I’d…prefer if you never did that.” This was your weak and fruitless attempt to try and gain any semblance of control in this situation.

“You ain’t in the position to be callin’ the shots on me. Keep it up, and I won’t be so fuckin’ nice. I’ll stuff your pretty little virgin pussy with my cock like you’re a fuckin’ pig on a spit.” He snapped. “Secondly, I’d prefer if you’d quit your yappin’ and start makin’ yourself useful by takin’ your jeans off—nice and slow for me. Make it last.”

“But you said—”

“Know exactly what I said, sweetheart. M’changin’ my mind, we clear?” He sternly asked while he sliced through one of the bra straps, watching with hooded eyes as it fell from your shoulder.

“Crystal.” You shakily reached for the button on your jeans, slowly undoing it followed by the zipper while he sliced through the other strap.

“Good girl.” He praised you, “you’re a fast learner. Thas’ real good, little fawn. That’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Thank you…sir.” You whispered, feeling your tears begin to dry on your cheekbones when you slowly began to shimmy your jeans down your thighs.

“Mmm…no.” He scoffed at you calling him sir. “Not sir. Jus’ call me Joel. It’s gonna be the only name you’re gonna be sayin’ for as long as I decide you’re worth keepin’ around. Best start gettin’ used to the way it tastes on your tongue.”

“Yes, Joel. I—I understand.”

He was kind enough to help you finish removing your jeans completely so you were left in just your cotton panties that were well worn. A touch of innocence could be found on the little faded pink bow right in the middle of the hem. His lips quirked at this, finding it endearingly…cute.

What remained of your bra fell away in pieces, the clasp old that was old and frayed, came undone easily. Now your breasts were bared to him for the first time. He liked that they weren’t magazine perfect, nothing like he had seen in his teenage to young adult years. They were natural, beautiful, and you.

“I know they aren’t—they aren’t anything special…” you trailed off, moving your arms up to cover your chest.

He shook his head and reached one hand out to stop you from covering them from his perfect view. “They’re beautiful. M’glad they aren’t perfect like the shit I would find in the old playboy magazines.”

“Really?…thank you, Joel.”

He didn’t acknowledge your gratitude and his eyes trailed southwards once more, right between your thighs. “Thought about cuttin’ these off, too.” He casually gestured to your panties, “But I think I wanna keep ‘em as a souvenir.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Don’t go all shy on me now, alright? Spread your thighs, sweetheart.”

You obeyed his request, your thighs falling open to his prying eyes. “You want to keep my panties as a souvenir?”

“Mhm.” He reached behind him briefly to set your knife down along the coffee table so both of his hands were free. You watched as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees between your spread thighs. “You won’t be needin’ them when you’re here, anyway.”

Before you could respond, his warm palms came to rest along your hips where his thumbs gently dipped beneath the hem of your panties and slowly began to peel them down your thighs. “Can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of tasting virgin pussy.” He chuckled. “Been too goddamn long.”

“I thought most guys weren’t into eating…pussy.” It was your turn to giggle now, and Joel was secretly relieved that you were finally relaxing.

He slipped your panties down your ankles making quick work of stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?” He shifted his hands from your hips to rest between the apex of your thighs, spreading you open further at his leisure.

“Well, uh—before the outbreak, I had a boyfriend, and all my friends at the time told me that I should ask him to go down on me. I didn’t know what they meant at first, so my friends and I bought a porno from an adult film store to watch, and then shortly after I asked my boyfriend if he would go down on me, he said fuck no.”

Joel laughed, a real hearty laugh that sent a warm vibration and tingle creeping up your spine. He used his thumbs to spread your inner lips apart before he peppered kisses against the inside of your thighs, inching closer and closer to the seam of your pussy. “No offense, sweetheart. But your boyfriend sounds like he was a fuckin’ tool that didn’t know the first thing to pleasin’ a woman and makin’ her sing, and for that reason, I hope he got infected.”

Despite the gravity of the situation you found yourself in, it felt good to confide in someone and laugh about the past. “I hope he got infected, too.”

The tension flipped once more when Joel’s darkened pools of brown flickered up from between your thighs. His hot breath was directly fanning your exposed core, and you watched as he licked his lips. “I take a lot of satisfaction knowin’ that I’m gonna be your first for everythin’, little fawn. You belong to me, your tight virgin cunt belongs to me. Jus’ want you to understand what that means before I defile you, piece by piece.”

You found your words lodged in your throat when you felt Joel Miller’s hot, wet, and skillful mouth press directly against your clit. His thick, dark lashes fluttered shut, and a groan bubbled from deep within his chest. He was immediately a man starved at the first taste of you. Lathing his tongue through the seam of your pussy as if he was a cat lapping up warm milk. And once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to.

“Sweetest fuckin’ virgin cunt I’ve ever tasted, little fawn. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re like honey.” He rambled on, slurping and obscenely sucking on your sex. He meant it when he said he was going to defile you, and this was just the beginning.

Your fingers naturally found themselves tangled in his salt and peppered streaked curls. They were softer than you ever imagined them to be. And in that moment, when your orgasm rippled through you like a tidal wave, and your pussy drooled along his tongue, you were grateful that he at least took the time to make you feel good first.

But like most good things, it passed just as quickly as it came when he pulled his mouth back from your cunt, a translucent strand of his saliva mixed with your release hung from his lower lip like a thread from a spider's web. The strand reached all the way to your glistening clit and disappeared when he licked the taste of you from his lips.

Your cheeks felt hot to the touch, and there was a sheen of sweat coating your skin when he reached for his belt and began to unfasten it. That’s when the fear began to creep its way back in.

“Joel, do you think that maybe we can—”

“No.” He gruffed out over the sound of his belt buckle clanking open, and his zipper being yanked down in a haste.

You could see just how hard he was through his worn down briefs, and when you finally got a first glance at just how thick and large his cock was, you were immediately trying to clamber off the couch. There was no way he was going to fucking fit.

He let out an annoyed growl, one hand quickly darted out and grabbed your ankle with a roughness that immediately had you yelping in surprise. “Do not fuckin’ test me, or I will really fuckin’ make this hurt for you. Do I make myself absolutely clear?” He glowered, tightening his steel like grip on your ankle. “Get back to how I had you spread open. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

Only when you reluctantly abided by his request did he loosen his grip before releasing your ankle completely. He rose to his full height, kicking his jeans and boxers off to the side as his heavy cock bobbed between his thighs. “Try anythin’ funny again, and I’ll bend your ass over this fuckin’ couch faster than you can say stop.”

“I’m sorry, Joel—I didn’t mean to upset you I’m just—”

“Afraid?” He mused. “Yeah, I gathered that. But I told ya that it’s only gonna hurt a little. All you need to do is relax for me. Thas’ it, and the pain will only be temporary. I promise, little fawn.”

He leaned over you, grasping your thighs in his hands and molded your body exactly how he wanted to take you so that he could easily wedge himself between your thighs. Now your back was against the side of the couch, the arm rest acted as a makeshift pillow for your head while he wrapped your legs around his hips for support. “Missionary is gonna cause ya the least amount of pain, but after today we ain’t gonna play it safe anymore.”

“Joel, can we please—I’m not ready for this. There has to be someone else that I can offer you…right?” You glanced down between your thighs, right where his thick cockhead was lined up at your tight opening. There was a drool of arousal that pooled and dripped down from the seam of your puffy and stimulated pussy right into the already soiled fabric of the couch.

“You jus’ don’t fuckin’ quit, do ya? I’m about five seconds away from fucking you like you’re just a piece of meat. Do you really want that, little fawn? Do you want me to fuckin’ hurt you? Is that it? You’re so goddamn lucky that you didn’t get captured by a group of raiders who would take turns gang raping you, and ripping you apart like a fuckin’ ragdoll. Show some fuckin’ gratitude for the fact that I’m not like them.” He hissed between his teeth. “You are mine. Get that through your pretty little brain sooner, rather than later.”

“You’re not going to fucking fit! There’s no fucking way that you’re going to fit without ripping me apart from the inside, Joel!” You cried out, fists clenched so tightly at your sides, that your blunt nails were digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood to the surface.

“I sure as fuck ain’t gonna fit where you’re so fuckin’ stiff. Ya don’t want it to hurt, d’ya? Well, more than it’s already gonna. Jus’ relax for me. That’s all you gotta do.”

It did fucking hurt. It felt like you were being ripped apart seam by seam when he slowly started to press himself inside of you. Your body seized up around the intrusion, clamping down on his cock like a vice as tears began to leak down your cheeks again.

“You gotta let me in, little fawn. Or so help me god, I will fuckin’ force my way right into your tight little virgin cunt.” He growled out of frustration, wanting this part to be over already because that very minuscule part of him felt bad for what he was doing.

“I—I can’t, Joel! Please! It hurts! You’re hurting me!”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping forwards and his forehead came to rest upon your own. His hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of his cock came to gently rest upon your cheek, a moment of tenderness that sent your mind reeling. “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt you, little fawn. Please jus’ relax. Take a deep breath in and out. Focus on this instead, alright?” He dropped his hand from your cheek and slowly slipped it between your parted thighs so his thumb could gently thrum your clit. “Focus on how good that feels, and not my cock splittin’ you apart and takin’ what’s mine.”

Maybe you were the masochist, and he was the sadist. The mixture of pleasure with pain was something you never had experienced before, and when your body finally began to relax and let him in fully, that’s when you finally understood what he meant earlier about the pain only being temporary. It was numbed the second he started to piston his hips into you, stretching you open more and more with each heavy and calculated thrust. His thumb stayed glued to your clit, rubbing you in steady circles to keep your stimulation present in your mind.

He did defile you, piece by piece. Taking and taking while you continue to give and give. You want to be good, you want him to like you, to want you because if he does, maybe he’ll keep you around. Maybe he’ll fuck you again, protect you, keep you safe, and maybe you’ll never have to live in fear again.

Sometime after Joel had fucked you till he felt satisfied and spent, you passed out on his couch purely from exhaustion. He didn’t tend to you right away. He didn’t kiss your forehead, and he certainly didn’t kiss your lips. He left you there, stained in his cum and completely ruined for anyone else. That’s how he intended to leave things, but his need to care and tend to you ultimately won when he appeared from his bathroom with a wash rag in hand. His footsteps were soft as he padded into the living room and knelt beside you as you slept. In comparison to earlier, his movements were very tender as he gently spread your thighs apart so he could wash between them.

You stirred only slightly, mumbling in your sleep when the wash cloth gently dragged across the seam of your pussy and everywhere in between. And even after he was finished he sat there for hours in a deep contemplation over his decisions. He was a complicated man, with conflicted feelings driven by grief and loss. And that was the reason for his unkindness. His ability to remain aloof and cold. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the notion that someone as innocent as you, had survived the cruelty of the world for this long.

~~

Your relationship with Joel Miller, or lack thereof, turned into a mutual exchange. He offered you his protection, and you offered him your body and some semblance of control. It was his driving force, after all. To feel like he was in control of his life and the remaining frayed threads of it. The more times he fucked you, the more you began to enjoy it. You liked his meanness, and he liked how compliant you were. It was simple, no emotions tied up and he could simply just be.

Sometimes you did talk, and other times he just took what he wanted. You were like his personal punching bag, his means to get his frustrations out through having you beneath his sheets, molded however he saw fit.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Yeah, thas’ it, little fawn. You can take all of me. Know you can.” He huffs out a hot puff of air against the shell of your ear. His broad shoulders, hard chest paired with a soft stomach, cage your softer frame like a protective shield. He’s drilling into you from behind, strong hips are flush against the soft curve of your ass, where he’s molded the shape of your body into the old, squeaky mattress. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through his tiny apartment, and your mind begins to grow hazy, consumed with pleasure, and him—Joel. He’s got you right where he wants you, where he can take, take, take, and you’ll give, and give, and give. The heady stench of sex, sweat and Joel swarms your senses like bees in a hive. He drinks in the wet, familiar sound of your pussy squelching around his cock, dragging him in further like a never ending vice.

He paints your insides with hot ropes of his seed, spending himself completely before he’s collapsing on top of you, drenched in sweat. His cock pulses inside of you for a few seconds longer before he draws his hips back and sits back on his thighs, resting his weight along his forearms as he catches his breath.

You lay flat on your stomach like a limp fish while you catch your own breath. He has your attention when you feel his hand gently curve around your ankle and you immediately roll over onto your back, silently begging him with your eyes alone to let you breathe a little longer. “I can’t go another round that fast, Joel. I need to catch my breath.”

“I wasn’t gonna suggest that, sweetheart.” He rasped softly, stroking your skin gently with the pad of his thumb. “I was—uh, gonna ask if you were hungry?”

You blinked a few times, trying to understand if you were hearing him correctly. Was he…offering you a meal? Did hell freeze over?

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah…I am a little hungry.”

Maybe he’ll ask you to make him a sandwich, hah!

“I ain’t got much to offer, unfortunately. But I think I got a couple cans of Chef Boyardee and some stale bread?” His cheeks are flushed from exertion, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone. It’s not like he said he loved you, he was just offering to feed you.

“Oh, man. That guy was great!” You sat up on your elbows watching his lips begin to curve upwards into a half grin from your enthusiasm.

“I actually agree.”

You ate in his bed, sitting across from one another in comfortable silence. Your knees were lightly touching, but neither of you seemed to mind the closeness. He even offered you the last half of his bread and you felt your heart swell at his selfless gesture.

A dog only bites when provoked. Maybe your guard dog was growing soft for his little fawn.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He asked suddenly, breaking through the comfortable silence like a knife.

“Of course you can, Joel.”

He was never good at this sorta thing; talking about his feelings and emotions. He swallowed his last bit of food before reaching across to set both of your empty plates on the nearby nightstand.

“What are you gettin’ out of this? And don’t lie to me or try to give me some bullshit.”

“You make me feel safe…and protected.” You murmured softly, looking directly into his eyes for the first time that entire night.

He scoffs, gnawing on the inside of his cheek with his canines, “I ain’t a fuckin’ charity service, or your knight in shining armor.”

“You’re right, Joel. You aren’t. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to be either of those things. But—you’re all that I want, all that I need.”

His face softens slightly, that permanent frown between his brows and pout of his lips is almost not so permanent before his scowl returns.

Deep down in that black pit of his heart, he wants that too. To be relied on, wanted, needed. He likes that what he has with you is something that he doesn’t have to fight for. He could get all of this and more from Tess, but she always challenged him and wanted more. She would lay her life down for his own and he hated that. He was the type of man that would rather lay his own life down in the place of someone else. He valued his life very little at this point, and here you were acting like he had done something monumental by keeping you safe, fucking you, and providing you with a meal.

“Joel, can I ask you something?” You interjected through the silence, hoping that he wasn’t upset with your honesty.

“Depends what it is that you’re about to ask me, little fawn.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, to feel his fingers lace through your own. You wanted him to hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You were his, but only under his terms. He wasn’t yours and he would never be. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t inclined to try and break through his nearly impassable walls that he had laid down himself, brick by brick.

“Why do you wear that watch on your wrist…if it’s broken?”

He froze like a deer in headlights as his ears began to ring, the blood rushed in his veins and his heartbeat began to race. His fingers twitched at his sides, and by the way his eyes began to darken, you realized very quickly that you had crossed a boundary. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even scold you. He ignored you completely and threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up the two discarded plates.

“Never fuckin’ ask me that again.” He muttered in the doorway, his back facing you and you could only see his side profile before he stomped off towards the kitchen.

Moments later you heard the sound of the plates breaking in the sink, one by one. You had never heard him sound so…violent before. He was yelling, but you couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He might have been crying at one point, but you didn’t dare investigate.

Only when you could no longer hear his pained yells, did you finally reach for your discarded clothes and quickly redressed before tiptoeing out of his bedroom. Your plan was to slip out the front door of his apartment undetected and never look back.

That plan went to shit when you stumbled upon the massacre in the kitchen and a broken man standing amongst shattered plates and shards of glass. He looked defeated, unmoving amongst the wreckage. His hand was trembling as small droplets of blood dripped from the open wound on his palm, the same hand where his broken watch was strapped to his wrist. The crimson droplets landed on the scuffed up floor beneath his feet. He heard the floorboards creak beneath your weight and he whipped around, eyes rimmed red from his incessant, crestfallen tears.

“Where the fuck are you goin?’” He croaked out, his voice sounding like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

“Home?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but even you couldn’t determine exactly why you were trying to leave.

“Did I say you could leave?” He took a step towards you, somehow avoiding the stray shards of glass.

“N-No…I just thought that—”

“Yeah?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side as he observed your timid demeanor. “Well, unthink that. Please.”

He was…asking you to stay? Not only that, he said please?

“You’re bleeding.”

He glanced down at his hand in surprise. He didn’t even feel the glass cutting through his palm or the familiar wetness from the blood dripping from the fresh wound.

“Let me patch it up for you, okay?” You took a small step forward in his direction while he wearily watched you. He brought his injured hand down to his side, holding it out of your reach.

“Are you going to stay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Joel. I promise I won’t leave.”

So, he chose to trust you and allowed you to touch him and guide him to the couch where he was forced to sit down while you rushed to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling when you gently grabbed his hand and rested it palm side up on your knee and began to tend to his wound. He wasn’t capable of love, not after she died. He wasn’t capable of softness and kindness, not when he watched the light fade from her eyes, and yet he sat quietly under your soft touch and gentle eyes. You had become like his supply, a new addiction, a craving, a need that could only be satiated by you. It scared him down to his very bones.

The personal vendetta was long since forgotten and was replaced with his latent nature to protect and care for. You had given him that purpose again, and maybe he could do better and become a good man again because of you. Maybe you were the answer to it all.

And unknowingly, and unintentionally, you had tapped into his inner psyche, one soft touch and gentle gaze at a time. And he was beginning to believe that maybe he wasn’t better off being alone and forsaken, after all.

~~

When Tommy Miller hadn’t returned any of Joel’s radio calls for two weeks straight, Joel was facing a tough decision that he ultimately was going to have to make. His kin was out in bum fuck Wyoming, he could be dead for all Joel knew. Despite how rocky his relationship with his brother was, he was still family, and now Joel was going to leave the QZ and find his younger brother.

This was the beginning of the end of yours and Joel’s mutual understanding, and it was happening before your very eyes.

Tonight he was in a haste after fucking you for hours. Usually he would stay in bed, his limbs tangled with yours, locked together like two puzzle pieces. You learned that sometimes he liked to be the little spoon, but he would never ask, not verbally at least. He’d turn his back to you, reaching for your hands to wrap yourself around him. Tonight, neither of those things happened while you watched him gather up his discarded clothes, throwing on his briefs over his thighs and hips.

You sat up slowly, using the old sheet to cover your breasts. Your heart began to sink when he sat on the edge of the bed, revolver in hand and bullet cartridges in the other.

“Joel?…” you asked in an unsure tone. Would this turn into another one of his meltdowns? You had hoped that it wouldn’t.

“What?” He gruffed out, reloading the bullets one by one.

You recoiled at his tone, chewing on the inside of your cheek to try and distract your mind from assuming the worst was about to happen.

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed, rolling his shoulders forward as he finished loading the revolver and looked over his shoulder, refusing to meet your eyes and instead focused on the peeling wallpaper along the walls.

“Everythin’ is peachy, little fawn.”

Even he didn’t sound too sure of his words. You had been around him long enough to pick up on his changes in demeanor. Sometimes they were subtle, less easy to detect, but tonight it was clearer than day that there was something deeply troubling him.

“You’re acting really fucking weird, Joel.”

He laughed dryly and turned to face you completely. “That’s because I got something to tell you, but you ain’t gonna fuckin’ like it.”

Your face fell immediately and your loose grip around the sheets became tight, as if the fabric between your fingers was the only grounding source available in the vicinity.

“Please, don’t look at me like that. Like I’m about to break your heart or somethin.’” He sighed. “You can’t look at me with those—eyes.”

“Well, are you about to break my heart, Joel? Cause if that’s the case, just rip the fucking bandaid off already.” Your voice cracked, and tears were already threatening to spill, but you held them at bay.

“I need you to understand that I don’t have any choice in this, alright? Tommy hasn’t returned any of my messages in two weeks. It usually only takes him a day to respond, and he’s gone completely radio silent. I’m leavin’ the QZ as soon as Tess and I can locate a truck battery, and I’m goin’ to Wyoming to find him.”

He didn’t have any choice?!

“Joel, do you realize how fucking insane you sound right now?! If Tommy hasn’t responded in two weeks he’s probably—”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ say another word, ya hear me?!” He growled, cocking his revolver and stood up abruptly from the edge of the bed. “You don’t get a fuckin’ say in this! You ain’t my family!”

His words stung, slicing your heart in a million tiny pieces from the venom dripping from his lips. Maybe this was the wake up call you needed. The rose colored glasses were beginning to lift, and the ship that you and Joel had sailed for so long, was finally sinking.

“You’re right, Joel.” You agreed with him. “I’m not your family. So, what the fuck am I then?”

He looked at you coldly, eyes narrowed into slivers. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He didn’t want to be having this conversation with you right now. He needed to focus on finding this damn truck battery and going after Tommy. But of course you just had to be fucking stubborn about the whole thing.

“You’re nothing but a goddamn liability.”

There was no emotion in his tone, just the cutthroat truth of what you truly meant to Joel Miller.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just trying to hurt me!” You tried to convince yourself that this man did care for you in a sense. That he thought higher of you than just someone he fucked, someone he held, someone he shared his meals with.

“Why are you makin’ this so goddamn difficult, huh? You want me to stand here and tell you that I love you?! That I care for you further than what our relationship is?! Would you like me to spell it out for you?!” He yelled exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration.

He didn’t even flinch when you scrambled out from under the sheets, desperately reaching for your discarded panties and shirt. You felt more exposed than ever in front of him as hot tears flooded and rolled down your cheeks. The same cheeks he had tenderly held between his calloused palms.

“You’re practically…a prostitute.”

You reached for your own gun that was resting on the nightstand closest to your side of the bed, and once you had a firm grip on the base of it, you whipped around to face him, gun aimed directly at him, mirroring his own.

“How—how fucking dare you! I’m not a prostitute, Joel! We—we have a mutual understanding! That’s how it’s worked, that’s how it’s always worked!”

“Had.” He corrected you coldly, cocking his head to the side. “And mutual understanding?! You mean our exchange?” He laughed and shook his head, “you offered me your fuckin’ body, and in return I’ve kept you alive! That ain’t a mutual understanding, sweetheart. Thas’ an exchange of services.”

“So, the time that I patched up your hand, and stayed with you even though I knew I shouldn’t have, meant nothing to you?!” You were full on screaming now, seeing red through your blurred tears. “My kindness meant jack all to you, Joel?!”

“Don’t stand there and act so surprised! I told you from the get-go, I am not a good fuckin’ man! You made those choices, sweetheart! I didn’t hold a fuckin’ gun against your head and force you to stay!”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly because you couldn’t believe how fucking delusional he was being. As if he ever gave you a choice in the first place?!

You took one bold step in his direction with your gun still aimed and at the ready. “Choice?! Oh, please enlighten me on what choice you’re speaking of when you never even gave me a choice in the first place, Joel!”

“I ain’t got time for this. It’s fuckin’ done, alright? We’re done and you’re just gonna have to find someone else to keep you alive, little fawn. You can be someone else’s liability!” In the midst of his yelling, he eyed your gun wearily, already mentally planning in his head how he was going to disarm you if you made the stupid decision to lunge at him.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, JOEL MILLER! I HATE HOW YOU HAVE MADE ME FEEL! DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME?! I—I HOPE THAT YOU NEVER FIND TOMMY. I HOPE HE’S DEAD, AND I HOPE YOU DIE ALONE, AND UNLOVED. I HOPE SOMEONE HURTS YOU THE WAY THAT YOU HAVE HURT ME AND—”

He wasn’t ready to admit just how shattering your words were. How it felt like someone had just ripped his heart out and tore it apart, piece by piece. But this is how he got by in life, by hurting those who he loved.

“I’m so fuckin’ relieved that you’re finally wakin’ up from whatever fairytale land you’ve been livin’ in, little fawn. There’s some hope that you won’t end up with a bullet between your eyes. Congratulations on joining the rest of society.” He muttered condescendingly. “Now, you’re gonna get that fuckin’ gun out of my face and go home, and you’re gonna forget all about me.” He deadpanned.

You did just that. He stood there just watching you quickly redress and tuck your gun into the waistband of your jeans. You strode past him, shoulder checking him on your way out.

“Careful. You might end up shootin’ your damn ass off.” He commented from the open doorway.

You didn’t have the strength to snap back at him. You felt broken, beaten, and defeated. He had taken all of you, and you felt like all that was left was your shell; withered and cracking away under his harsh cruelty and scrutiny.

You grabbed your backpack from the hook alongside the door and yanked the handle open, swinging it open loudly on its hinges. He waited till he heard the apartment door slam shut before he left his bedroom, padding quietly down the hall. He went straight to the door and locked it for good measure.

~~

When Marlene found you, you were in a drunken stupor after spending a day in lockup because you had stupidly punched a FEDRA officer in the face, oops. You traded a few ration cards for a cheap bottle of hooch, and proceeded to drink it in broad daylight in a deserted alley. It was nearing curfew now, and the bottle you had been nursing was completely drained and discarded by your feet. Marlene found you slumped over, covered in dried blood, vomit, and tears. You were curled up like a little fawn hiding in the thicket. She checked your pulse before you sputtered awake, lashes fluttering and eyes squinting through the massive hangover you were experiencing.

“M—Marlene?” You croaked out as you tried to wrap your drunken mind around how the fuck she found you here in the first place.

“He broke your heart, didn’t he? Told you he was bad news, sweetheart.” She sighed with a disappointed shake of her head. “Take my hand and we’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

You neither confirmed nor denied her assumptions of why you were piss drunk in an alley. You simply reached for her outstretched hand and let her help you up from the ground. You were wobbly on your feet, like a drunk Bambi on ice, but she let you lean your weight entirely into her side.

A week later, you were officially a member of the Boston QZ Fireflies and under the direct protection of Marlene. If only you had known then that you had signed off on your own death certificate.

You were assigned to Riley’s position in the QZ mall making bombs for the Fireflies to use on an upcoming attack on FEDRA. When you asked Marlene what had happened to Riley, she cut right to the chase and told you that Riley had been bitten by an infected person. You didn’t ask for any further explanation, or where Riley had been bitten. Had you known that she was bitten in the mall, you would have begged Marlene for a different post instead.

When you proved yourself loyal to the Fireflies, Marlene decided that you were ready to be on the frontlines of the attack. Right in the midst of it. One of the bombs that you made with your own hands was about to be used in warfare; what a twisted turn of events.

~~

Tess Servopolous was having a shitty fucking day. After being jumped by a couple of Robert’s goons, and then finding out that he sold the truck battery that her and Joel needed, she was ready to go home and drink the whole thing off, when an explosion went off directly outside of the building that she, Robert, and two of his men were occupying.

She stumbled out of the wreckage, dazed and confused when she saw a FEDRA vehicle demolished and in flames. She squinted through the blinding sun when someone from a nearby rooftop yelled, “free Boston now, motherfuckers!”

And then, directly across the street, she caught a glimpse of you; Joel’s ex little fawn turned rebel scum. You were fleeing the scene just as FEDRA had shown up. Tess claimed she wasn’t a Firefly, but they threw her into lockup, anyway.

“He sold our battery to someone else, Joel.” Tess was sitting across from Joel in their shared tiny apartment. She had just disclosed to him that the men that had jumped her were with Robert, and she was in lockup all day. Joel was fuming.

“Who the fuck did he sell it to? That fuckin’ snake. Swear to god I’ll—”

“Joel, I need you to take a breath.” Tess said plainly, rubbing her sore temples with a sigh.

“I need that battery, Tess. It’s the only way we’re getting to Tommy and without it, we’re shit out of luck. He could be fuckin’ dead out there already for all we know. Where the fuck are we gonna find a battery now?”

“I saw her.” Tess said above a whisper to draw his attention.

“Don’t.” He warned her.

“Joel, I fuckin’ saw her! She’s—Firefly scum now. She was across the street when the bomb went off. She’s with Marlene now. She was fleeing the scene like a goddamn coward, too.”

It felt like Joel’s entire world was crashing down around him all at once. He hadn’t thought about you since your ugly departure from his apartment, but to hear that Marlene had sunk her venomous claws into you after all? He was furious, disappointed, and above all, he felt betrayed.

“You swear that you saw her?”

“On my life, Joel. It was her.” Tess would never lie. She had no reason to.

He swallowed the thick lump growing in his throat. It felt like hot bubbling tar was melting his insides away, melting the flesh from his bones and leaving him bare and brittle. He could taste the bitterness of betrayal on his tongue, and the dull ache in his heart. His fists clenched and unclenched, his brows furrowed tightly and his lips were in a straight, emotionless line. He looked across the table at his partner, giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment. “If I ever see her face again, I will kill her, Tess. I’ll make it hurt. I’ll kill her with my bare fuckin’ hands.”

He was a man of his word, but he was secretly praying that day would never come because he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Not even after he promised Tess to her face that he would kill you. You were that weakness that he couldn’t shake free from.

“Good.” She nodded. “Now let’s go hunt that motherfucker down, and get our battery, our truck, and then we’ll go find Tommy, alright?” She reached for his hand that was clenched in a tight fist along the table.

“Alright.” He nodded.

Joel and Tess had a stash of weapons and supplies scattered about in different areas in and outside of the QZ. One of these areas included the boarded up mall, and this was Joel’s first stop. He had heard rumors sprinkled about that there were a handful of infected roaming the mall, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He snuck into the building the same way he always did and retraced his steps purely from memory.

His confidence only began to waver when he approached the same door he had entered through over a dozen times and saw the unmistakable Firefly logo spray painted right across the frame of the door.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath and withdrew his concealed gun before pushing the slightly ajar door open with his broad shoulder.

On the other side of the mall, you were dealing with trouble of your own. Why hadn’t you asked Marlene more questions about Riley’s death—specifically where Riley had been bitten. Would Marlene have even told you the truth?! You were beginning to question the Fireflies true motives when you overheard Marlene and a few others talking about taking this girl out west to be tested in a hospital. This wasn’t just any random girl; she was immune to the Cordyceps infection. She could possibly be the cure to save the world, but even you were smart enough to know that Cordyceps grow inside the brain. This poor girl was going to die, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

From that point forward you decided that you were going to sabotage Marlene and Fireflies plans. After setting off a bomb in the QZ, you fled back to the mall to dispose of the rest of the bombs you had made that week and then you were going to leave the QZ for good. It was supposed to be simple and go exactly as you planned it to, and it did up until the point when you ran into an infected person.

Your gun was knocked from your grip leaving you with only your knife for protection when the infected person shoved you against a nearby wall, knocking the wind from you. You fought like hell, stabbing wherever you could reach till the infected collapsed to the ground after you jabbed your knife directly into its neck before you sank down against the wall to catch your breath. Its body lay in a heap at your feet, blood pooling and leaking from the deep gash in its neck.

A few minutes later you heard a door nearby open and close followed by heavy footsteps. You scrambled to your feet, wiping your knife along your jeans and snatched up your gun that was on the floor a good few feet away. Your boots slipped in the puddle of blood and created a trail of crimson footprints. So much for remaining concealed.

Joel appeared shortly after you had taken off. He could smell the stench of blood and death permeating the air upon his approach. When he found the dead infected, he kicked it with the toe of his boot, checking to make sure it was actually dead. When the body didn’t move or twitch, he let out a brief sigh of relief before he noticed the trail of bloody footprints and followed them.

It didn’t take him long to find the room that you had been occupying. The trail of footprints had led him straight to another door and that’s when he noticed the fresh blood on the handle and proceeded with caution. When he pushed open the door, he expected to find a person on the other side but there was no sign of anyone. He was drawn to the table in the corner of the room where he recognized a plethora of materials used to make a bomb.

Jackpot.

He surveyed the small room with his gun still drawn at his side as he crept around. You were hiding in the supply closet which was an uncomfortable tight fit. You had no idea who the fuck was on the other side of the door, but you didn’t intend to find out anytime soon. Through the small gap in the metal closet, you were able to make out a pair of all-too familiar black boots.

No, no, no. Please. Anyone but him. Anyone but—

your foot slipped from the blood causing something from the top shelf of the closet to fall and cause a loud racket. Moments later the janitor closet doors were yanked open leaving you exposed. Joel didn’t see your face at first when he grabbed your arm and yanked you out onto the ground with his freehand.

You let out a yell, trying to claw at the man when he yanked you onto the floor. You scrambled to sit up, raising your arms above your head when he trained his gun on you. Your eyes simultaneously widened in shock. The masochist and the sadist together again.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” He let out a scoff. “So, Tess wasn’t lyin’ huh? You really are…Firefly scum?”

“You are quite literally the last person I ever wanted to run into, Joel.” You hissed between your teeth while you were at his mercy.

“Well, sweetheart, that makes two of us.”

“Hilarious, I’m absolutely dying with laughter right now.” You rolled your eyes and he scowled at your sarcasm.

“Turned into a joiner just like Tommy. How fuckin’ predictable.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I promised Tess that I would kill you with my bare hands if I ever saw your face again, but…I can’t bring myself to do that, little fawn.” He lowered his gun slowly just as you began to lower your arms.

“You were leaving me behind, Joel. What—what else was I supposed to do, huh? Marlene found me in an alley, covered in blood and vomit because I had gotten my ass thrown in lockup after punching someone from FEDRA in the fucking face. I had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, and Marlene offered me protection.”

“You punched someone from FEDRA in the face?” He couldn’t help but feel a little amused with this knowledge. “Never expected those words comin’ outta your mouth.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed, Joel. I did what I had to do to survive. I’m sure you think I did it to betray you, right? Not everything is about you. And even if that were the case, why would you even care, considering I’m just a liability in your eyes.”

“You’re right.” He stated simply. “I do think you did it to betray me, but clearly Marlene’s war ain’t goin’ to peachy with you fuckin’ it up. If I’m not the one to kill you, then I’m sure she’s hot on your trail already.”

“You’re probably right. After I set that bomb off I decided that I was fucking done with the Fireflies. I came back here to destroy the rest of the bombs and then I’m leaving the QZ tonight.”

“Wow.” His eyebrows rose in surprise and he couldn’t help the grin that slowly tugged over his lips. “Look at you havin’ a plan of action. I’m impressed.”

“And I take it you haven’t located that truck battery, huh? Man, that’s gotta suck.” You snickered softly.

“Watch it.” He snipped, “We ain’t friends or nothin’ and I still can kill you.”

You both fell silent as your emotions swirled like a dust bowl. You could only imagine the hate that could spew from his lips next.

“Did you…” he was referring to the dead infected that you had killed earlier.

“Yeah, I did.”

He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he observed you from where he was standing. “And you didn’t get bit, right?”

His question hung heavy in the air between you. You don’t remember if you were bit or not. It all had happened so fast—

“I—I don’t think so.” You were unsure as you slowly rose to your feet and that’s when he noticed your hand and the obvious teeth indentations in your skin. The same hand that patched up his wound, the same hand that wrapped around his middle when he wanted to be the little spoon.

“Oh Christ.” He whispered in disbelief, taking a small step back from you, his instincts kicking in immediately.

You looked down at your right hand, noticing the bite and the blood slowly leaking from the grooves in the indented marks. You quickly wiped the blood away, thinking that the bite mark would suddenly just disappear.

“No, no, no!” You yelled a broken cry, “I don’t—I don’t want to turn into a monster, Joel!” You continued to furiously wipe at the bite mark, growing more and more frustrated—afraid when it wasn’t going away.

His heart sinks and he doesn’t know what to do, or how to react. His eyes are fixated on the bite mark and what it means, and he isn’t sure how much time he’ll have left with you. The one thing that he does know for certain is that he won’t let you turn into a monster. He’ll make it quick, painless. You won’t feel a thing. It’s the least he can do for you after all the pain he caused. It’s really starting to hit him now, all the hurtful things he said. The cruelty he thrashed upon you. God, how could he do such awful things to someone like you?

“I—I need you to take a deep breath for me, little fawn, okay? Please. You need to calm down.” He tried to reason with you as he took a half step forward.

“Calm down?! You—” tears began to profusely roll down your cheeks when you faced your own realization that it was only a matter of time before you would turn into one of those monsters.

“I’m—I’m not going to let you turn into a monster, okay? I swear on my life, I’ll make it quick. You—you won’t feel a thing, okay? I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry that I’ve been nothing but cruel to you. I pushed you away, I forced you to leave. I’m the reason you joined the Fireflies. It’s all my fuckin’ fault.” He was struggling to hold his own tears at bay when he saw your body begin to tremble.

“Let—let me be till…my last breath, okay? Please, Joel. Can—can you do that for me? I’m—I’m so afraid.”

He nodded and slipped his gun into his holster. “Until your very last breath, little fawn.”

You slowly sank to the floor and despite every cell in his brain telling him not to join you, he ignored his instincts and found himself sitting alongside you.

“Will—will you hold me? I—I want one last comfort before my mind and body is no longer my own.”

How could he say no to your final request? He knew it was risky, and the Cordyceps were already laying their claim inside of your body. “Of course I will.” He whispered softly.

You slipped into his arms as if they were made for you, and he held you close, resting his chin along the top of your head.

He told you about his daughter Sarah and how he closed himself off to all feelings after she died. He told you that she died in his arms on his 36th birthday and that he wore the broken watch on his wrist because it was her birthday gift to him. He was wearing it when she died, and the bullets ripped through her body. A stray bullet had pierced the glass on the watch and her time of death would forever haunt him.

The last words you spoke to him were of forgiveness, and the last touch you felt from him was his lips pressed to your forehead before your mind and body were no longer yours.

He could sense that your time was up, and that you were no longer with him. He had gone numb when he reached for the gun in his holster and quietly removed it. When the infected head turned towards him and he was met with its dead, glossed over eyes, this was his final confirmation and nail in the coffin that his little fawn was no more.

He mouthed, I’m sorry, before he locked the infected in a headlock. They tussled on the ground momentarily before he pressed the barrel of the gun between its eyes and pulled the trigger.

The body went limp in his loosened grasp, slumping into his arms like a bag of bricks. He broke down into silent tears that wrecked through his body as he cradled you in his arms, rocking back and forth to try and calm himself down.

“I’m so sorry, little fawn. You deserved so much better.” He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before he lifted your corpse into his arms. He wanted to lay you to rest someone soft and comforting in hopes that wherever you were now, was filled with nothing but peace, love, and no pain.

He found a bed of moss nearby and gently laid you down upon it. His fingertips brushed across your eyelids, pulling them down gently so that it would appear as if you were sleeping peacefully. He placed your pocket knife between your hands and said his final goodbyes.

When your body rotted and decayed, you became one with the moss and only your bones remained.

Years later, Joel still thinks about you, his little fawn. He wonders if you’re dancing amongst the stars when he sits out on the back porch of his home in Jackson. There’s frost in the air, but it’s a clear night with the moon shining bright. His guitar sits off to the side and his mug of coffee has steam billowing off the rim of it. He catches a glimpse of the tail end of a shooting star striking brilliantly against the jet black sky. He knows in his heart that it’s you up there.

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[ptolomia]

hatred for flowers.

- she never knew she could despise flowers, that was until the began to bloom out of her esophagus that is.

- Scott Summers (Cyclops)/Reader Referenced Scott Summers/Jean Grey

Mentions of The Jean - Logan - Scott triangle.

- TW:// Gore / Death

- Hanahaki Disease / Unrequited Love

Pain, the only turn of phrase capable of describing the situation she has been put in. Siting in complete agony as blood pooled out of her mouth. Ironically, the only flowers she ever wanted to receive from him were bouquets, not these. Not the ones traveling up her throat as they pierce her organs. Certainly not the ones exiting her mouth covered in the rouge colored liquid we know to be blood.

Twisting and turning in complete misery, sobbing relentlessly, pain without end. Yet the most agonizing part, she could not let him go. Instead of shrinking, her feelings only grew. Instead of hating him, she grew to hate the flowers blooming within her.

She had begun to hate herself too. Why? You may ask, simple. She hates herself for falling, simply because of an emotion over which she has no control. She resents herself, she goes about her day, blaming herself for ever seeing Scott, when in fact she cannot hate herself for simply being human. She does so for she knows no other way of coping but this. She will resent herself for harbouring such ill borne desire for her oldest friends lover.

Her guilt only seems to grow as she dreams of holding his hand. She pretends her hands fit perfectly within each crevice; and oh god is she grief stricken. Knowing full well that it was made for someone else. He, was made for someone else. Her best friend no less.

She knows all too well that he is not hers, but she is his. She gazes into his eyes and sees the love of her life, whilst he looks into hers and sees his wife’s oldest friend. A friend so madly in love with him, she is willing to risk her own life, unbeknownst to him.

His density is palpable, he doesn’t quite pick up on the hints of affection that you’ve woven into your daily interactions. Even if he did, he chose to remain ignorant. He knows to himself that he is not, and will never be capable of loving anyone as immensely, truly, vastly, soul sickeningly, as he does Jean.

He does this for he is hers, so enamoured to that, he tolerates her blatant lust for another. He remains ignorant for he knows she deserves so much more than he. It does not affect him for he is so terribly in love, that he knows to himself, that he could not be attached to anyone else. He shies away from Jean, from the confrontation for, he fears that if he loses her he will never love again.

She dies out for him, for she would rather die loving him, than live in a world where she hadn’t. She will choose to die with her love, than live without it. She would rather die hating flowers, than live hating him, sick and twisted.

Her guilt had lead her to Professor Xavier’s room. She had rested her head atop his legs as she sat upon the carpeted floor beside his bed. She began confessing her sins, every horrid feeling she had bore. The news that her death was coming soon. Charles absorbed her pain, resting his calloused fingers upon her temple he was taken aback by her agony.

She began to speak again, “Professor, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t lived! How am I meant to die so soon? I’ll never be loved romantically, I’ll never learn to control my powers, I’ll never experience my first kiss, I won’t ever fall in love again. I won’t get a normal life.” Sobs shook her whole body. Charles’ soft voice had lulled her, “You’re a mutant, child, You aren’t normal at all, and that’s beautiful. These superficial things are not what defines a life. You have been loved, this entire academy is a testament to it. You have learned to control your powers, you’ve done more good than you will ever know, and that in itself is a life well lived.”

Allowing herself to wither alongside the flower petals upon the hospital, alone and scared. Not bothering to tell her friends, her fellow mutants, she refused to show weakness, to present her ill state to them.

White walls, shallow beeps, she was slowly being shaken awake. The defribulator shocking her lifeless body, attempting to wake her, failing as when they had gotten there she was long gone, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

A phone chimes, echoing throughout the hallway, slightly startling the young boy, “Hello, is this Scott Summers?” the woman had spoken through the phone. “Yes, this is he.” he chimes, “You’re listed as an emergency contact. We regret to inform you she passed tonight, you may come to ********* , to collect her and her things, I’m sorry for your loss.” she says regretfully, “Okay, thank you.” he says, his heart breaks into the same million pieces that her’s had, his voice cracks, what happened to her?

Pain, the only turn of phrase capable of describing the situation he has been put in, siting in complete agony as tears streamed down his face. He looked at her lifeless form. What had happened? Why hadn’t she informed the team that she was ill? Why hadn’t she informed Jean, she was her dearest friend.

He sat beside her for a few moments, waiting for the Doctor to brief him. “Good Evening Mr Summers, I’m Dr. Hunt.” Scott shook his hand briefly, His vision blurring. “Does she have any other family?” Dr. Hunt asked softly, “Sort of, they’re on their way.” Scott affirmed. “Well, she was diagnosed with late stage Hanahaki Disease. The illness is born out of unrequited love. Flowers will begin to bloom within the lungs of patients until breathing is rendered impossible. There is a surgery for it however she had came in so late that her chances of survival were too slim.” Dr. Hunt had finished, nodding curtly as he exited the room. Scott was mortified. Unrequited love? He thought to himself, She’d never told him nor Jean about any of her romantic interests.

The rest of the team began pouring in, sobs filling the airspace. The cold body filling them all with white hot rage. Scott gave a brief summary of what the doctor had told him, his lips quivering at the thought.

They were just as confused as Scott was. She fell in love? With who? They all thought.

For her dignity, however the professor masked his knowledge. He vividly remembered the way she shook in his lap as she confessed her feelings for Scott. The guilt on her face as she confessed her imminent death had imbedded itself into his psyche. However, he was a man of his word. Charles would take that secret to his grave. The same way she had.

[13rurururi]

Hello!! May I ask for a Regonku Kyojuro x reader?

Where Kyojuro survives but his body is covered in scars from the battle, even his face, and he feels a tad bit insecure about it but reader is there to make sure he feels loved, kissing his scars and overall showering the Flame Hashira in love and care

Even the Brightest Flames Flicker [Rengoku Kyoujurou x gn!Reader]

Pairing: Rengoku Kyoujurou x gender neutral! Reader (SFW)

Synopsis: After the arduous and intensive battle against the Upper Moon, it was a staggering miracle that the Flame Hashira even survived to see another day. However, his survival came with the consequence of lifelong physical and emotional scars. Perhaps, you — his lover — can help in setting his heart ablaze once more.

I. When flames nearly shrivel, we only grow colder. Please, let the warmth last longer.

"Rengoku Kyoujurou is on the brink of death after an encounter with Upper Moon 3!"

Your Kasugai crow's loud squawks painfully tore through your ears; simultaneously, you felt pure dread weigh down on your shoulders — heavy, hot, and suffocating. Bile rose up your throat, but you forced your legs to run towards the direction of the gliding crow.

Kyoujurou. Kyoujurou. Kyoujurou.

Your mind was numb, and the only comprehensive thought was the bright smile of your lover. Oh, god. The thought of the life draining from his eyes sent a tsunami of tears to fall from your face, carried away by the wind as your legs burnt from your unending sprint.

Panting, gasping, and silently sobbing, you reached the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters and hurriedly stumbled towards the medical wing where you vehemently hoped you would find your lover alive. Before you could burst through the room dedicated for intensive care, a Kakushi grasped your shoulder and gently called your name,

"Rengoku-san is alive, but he's still in critical condition; we need to let the doctors ensure his survival. Please, sit down for a moment."

As if the comforting hand on your shoulder brought you back to Earth, you were unable to do anything but fall to the floor and sob.

Kyoujurou, please don't leave me.

II. There will always be those that stomp on flames to keep them from setting ablaze.

Two months — Kyoujurou was enveloped in a deep coma for two torturous months. You never missed a single day visiting his room, carrying flowers that inevitably withered by his bedside table. Occasionally, you'd bring him a variety of his favorite foods: beef bento boxes, udon noodles, and whatnot. You deeply hoped that the scent could awake him from his vegetative state, so he could once again eat meals he would call "Delicious!" with every bite. Eating alone never felt so painfully quiet before.

Senjurou, his younger brother, also diligently visited alongside you. Both of you shared lighthearted stories about Kyoujurou with unshed tears. Their father, on the other hand, remained in their abode, drowning his anger (and worries) with alcohol.

"That weak brat! He's incapacitated and done for in the world of Demon Hunters! Maybe once he wakes up and looks in the mirror, he'd understand just how incompetent he is. He better quit!"

You knew, deep in your heart, that his father didn't mean such harsh words; however, your hot tears and sorrowful heart only led to a nearly-violent argument with the former Flame Hashira. Thank goodness for Senjurou, who led you away from the man you tried to bring with you to visit his unconscious son.

After two months of your hazy routine veiled by a dissipating hope, Kyoujurou opened his eyes.

"He's awake! The Flame Hashira is awake!"

A Kakushi intercepted you on your way to his room, and the news was enough to shake you to your core, resulting in a discarded bento box left lying on the floor. You ran with a newfound hope burning in your heart. He's awake — he's alive!

"Kyoujurou! Kyoujurou!" You choked out nearly incomprehensible cries of his name, rushing to his bedside where he was miraculously sitting up. You tried to urge him to lie back down, but he gently refused, placing a cold hand on your tear-stained cheek. His hands were so uncharacteristically cold. You fought back a new wave of tears when you recalled the many times you snuggled into him for warmth; now, you hoped you could provide him a sliver of the sunshine he gifted you.

"I'm alright," he croaked out; his normally booming voice was reduced to a broken tune, making you melt into him further, enveloping him in an embrace. Your sobs were broken yet relieved, and you were thankful for the survival of your beloved Kyoujurou. Little did you know, flames can't instantly recover from being nearly extinguished.

III. We can keep the flame burning by basking in its warmth.

Kyoujurou's smiles didn't feel the same after he rose from his coma; he still had a wide grin plastered on his face, and he jovially praised each bite of his meals — just like old times. However, there's a subtle tension that weighed on your shoulders, and you couldn't pinpoint the source of such worries until you saw Kyoujurou staring at his reflection on a hand mirror.

You watched him, unnoticed, from the doorway as he dragged a calloused finger across the left side of his face, tracing the wound that rendered his eye useless. The twitch of his eyebrows and the slight shiver of his fingers could have been missed by anyone, but not you.

You are his lover, after all, and you would adore him no matter what state he found himself in. You knew he felt the same for you, and that's what made your love special and strong: it was undeniably unconditional.

You were going to help him set his heart ablaze once again. He was only human, after all. While your lover had impeccable emotional resilience and an amazing outlook on what makes life worth it, you knew he had ups-and-downs, just like any other human being fighting in this cursed war.

You were going to show him that all parts of him — the bright, the bubbly, the scarred — deserve the love you were going to pour out of your soul.

IV. No one can ever stop you from setting your heart ablaze.

Rengoku called out to you, a quizzical look on his face. For the past few days, he sensed a slight difference in your behavior towards him. Somehow, you'd grown to be more gentle, more caring, and more loving than ever (which he didn't think was possible, since you were — in his eyes — the epitome of overflowing compassion). Somehow, he felt guilty for keeping you busy with tending to his daily needs.

"Is there something going on?" He asked you with his unwavering, piercing gaze. You didn't feel the need to put on a cloak of secrecy and decided that it was time to properly communicate with your lover. You sat on a chair next to his bed and said,

"I love you so much."

"I — I love you, too! So much," Kyoujurou answered abruptly with a lopsided smile and a slightly bewildered gaze at your sudden declaration. "But, darling, is something bothering you? Am I becoming a burden—"

"Hold that thought! Rengoku Kyoujurou, you will never, ever, be even a minuscule annoyance to me. I love you so much, and it's just that I noticed how you recently look sadder." You trailed off at the end of your sentence, grabbing his hand as you rubbed his palm with your thumb.

You explained to him that you caught him staring at the reflection of his wound across his face; sometimes, you also caught him holding a shaky palm to his stomach where a massive scar was bound to develop. You told him with absolute certainty that each and every injury was a sign of his strength and resolve to protect all the innocent people that rode the Mugen Train.

"They all survived!" You would drill it into his head until he understood how loved and appreciated he is. "Tanjiro and his friends have sent countless letters asking about you, telling me that they wouldn't have survived without you. You are amazing."

With each word you spoke came a kiss that gently fluttered on Kyoujurou's bandaged wounds. Your grip on his scarred hands were so tight, you felt blood pump at the tips of your fingers. You only wished that your lover could feel just how impactful and eternal his flames are.

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Each tender movement from you felt like heaven's caress, and Kyoujurou felt tears silently pour out of his eye. You moved to place your lips on his wounded face, gently whispering an 'I love you.' He may have been the Flame Hashira, but you were the pure embodiment of a comforting fire, set ablaze to light his path towards happiness and strength once again. Slowly, the flickering sparks in his heart grew hotter.

Before you could kiss his injured eye once again, he moved his head to place his lips on yours, initiating a soft, loving kiss that made you shed tears of overwhelming emotion.

He moved his head to gaze at you with the most gentle, loving expression you had ever seen. You stopped yourself from falling into incoherent sobbing once more and declared to him,

"Kyoujurou, you've been living your entire life to protect the weak. For once, please let us protect you while you rest and recover. The people you have touched with your flame will embark on this journey with you — with us."

You placed your lips against his forehead ever-so-gently, your hand rubbing light circles on his wounded back.

"Your flames have branded themselves into the souls of those you have saved. So please, for once, save yourself first."

Your touches, your soothing voice, and your heartfelt words moved Rengoku Kyoujurou's entire soul. Perhaps, with you, he can conquer any battle and any scar that is etched onto his being. After all, you are the center of his heart that burned with unconditional love for you.

You truly were the spark that helped set his heart ablaze.

A/N: Here's my first Rengoku fanfic (first angst here on my blog, too). Boy, do I miss him a lot, and I just finished reading the KNY manga this afternoon. Anyway, thanks for the request! I hope you guys enjoyed some angst-to-comfort.

My requests are still open for anyone interested. (Yes, I will be writing about Haganezuka next; I miss him already).

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

Twighlight Shine - Lycoris radiata

Blade x reader

Navi.

Warnings: subconscious yearning?

Note: this has been in my drafts for a while

Wordcount: ~700

He left a trail of red behind him. When you first saw him, you believed it to be the last time. The flowers he left in his wake a tell tale sign of a soul both lost and doomed. And yet, here he was, very clearly alive, albeit a little quiet.

Disconcertingly so, if you were being quite honest. He stared right at you too and you couldn't help but shift in your seat.

"You're uncomfortable." He stated the obvious in a deadpan voice. However, the way he laid his head to the side reminded you of a confused dog.

"Ah-" you bit your lip to suppress a needlessly hasty explanation.

"Hm?" He furrowed his eyebrows as he let out the sound.

"It's just," you smiled nervously, "I've seen you before. That's all."

He hummed in understanding. "And?"

"I, well," you broke off. "Your flowers are pretty," you murmured then, finally gaining the courage to tell him.

His eyes widened.

"What flowers?"

Now, it was your turn to lay your head to the side. He couldn't help but liken you to a puppy. Though a puppy seldom smiles as beautiful as you did in that moment. Then again, he wasn't quite sure when he last had seen a puppy.

"What do you mean?" You let out a breathless laugh. He flinched at the sound. "Lycoris radiata. They bloom where you go. Have you not noticed?"

He shook his head.

"Only death remains where I tread."

Your smile disappeared and he realised that somewhere deep within his chest he longed to see it again.

"I know. But I'm not sure if it's their death that follows you."

That brought a smile to his face.

"Really?" Your breath hitched when you saw the pure happiness in his eyes. "I hope you are right."

You looked to be his reaper. The way you seemed to follow him wherever he went may have been uncanny to some, though, to him you were the comfort one seeks in bed with one's love.

He thought your beauty a fleeting wind cutting through hearts to let them wither in dust. Your eyes held warmth so dear to him, they might set him aflame eternally.

Your touch, however, he thought would be his undoing, if ever you should deem the time to be right

It was in a lonely world he met you again. Snow crunched beneath your feet, the setting sun the background to your portrait.

"It´s been a while."

You turned, surprised, but then your lips spread into the sweetest of smiles at the sight of him.

"How have you been?" You walked towards him.

"How are the flowers?" he asked instead.

You hummed, and he watched you take a few steps around him.

"They are as vibrant as ever," you told him, finally looking up again.

He grunted.

"What are you doing here?"

You laughed.

"And you?"

Many seasons pass before an immortal is deemed ready for sleep. He did not at first notice your unchanging body. Your eyes always more experienced, more mature, than the last time, only one night in his bed did he realise that fifty years had passed since your first meeting. And yet, your steps were as youthful as ever.

Jing Yuan would certainly adore you, but the thought pierced through his heart, though he did not understand why.

He saw you again in a bamboo forest, waiting for him. Your hand reached out to him; however, you hesitated and so he did not take it. He sat down and together you watched the rise and descend of the golden sun.

He did not know you, yet he couldn´t help but want to. Once, he had dreamed of your lips laid softly on his eyes, tickling his lashes. He had awoken with terror striking his heart.

He had even thought of the feeling of your hair between his fingers. Only rarely did he think of your fingers on his skin. It would make him shudder in distaste every time - this truest of impossibilities.

Still, your touch he thought would be his undoing, if ever you should dare.

[ad-hawkeye]

Alkaid's Destiny's Call Endings

A transcript of each ending can be found below.

ASTRONOMER ENDING

Ever since he was a child, Alkaid has always harbored a profound fascination with the heavens above. Gazing into the sky, he could sense the endlessness of the world beyond the curtain of the sky.

When he grew up, he bought a small telescope, which shortened the distance between him and the sky. Through it, he could see beautiful stars traveling along mysterious tracks in space.

Eventually, Alkaid's unwavering passion led him down the path of becoming an astronomer. Countless complexities created a cascade of numbers, constructing a ladder that propelled him toward the stars.

There, he watched the birth and death of the stars as if he was watching the blossoming and withering of a flower.

FLORIST ENDING

After reaching the age of 18, Alkaid became the owner of a flower shop. He named his store "Aurora," a name he held dear, even though its profound significance remained a secret, intertwined with the threads of destiny.

He looks after the white roses, lilies, and daisies in his floral shop. He treats these delicate flowers as cherished companions, joyfully passing them into the hands of those who appreciate them properly.

"Do you have 319 white roses in stock?"*

"I'm afraid we don't at the moment. But you can leave your contact details and I'll call you to pick them up in three days."

"Okay. Thank you." The girl nods and leaves her contact information.

Alkaid takes the note and repeats her name under his breath - "Can I call you... Miss [MC Name]?

*March 19th is Alkaid's birthday.

TRAVEL PHOTOGRAPHER ENDING

Alkaid has visited countless places.

To him, the world contains both perils and marvels. In his eyes, the allure of a place grows exponentially with its danger and inaccessibility.

Fearless and resolute, Alkaid willingly embraces risk to experience the world on a personal level. He captures these extraordinary locations through the lens of his camera, cherishing them as souvenirs.

The sight of snow-capped mountains always leaves him awestruck. As Alkaid sets up his equipment, a girl walks into his camera frame. With a canvas in her hand, she trips over and falls down in the snow.

"It's too dangerous to traverse this mountain on your own," Alkaid says as he runs over to help the girl.

RACE CAR DRIVER ENDING

As the race car reaches its maximum speed, a whirlwind ensues. The boundary between life and death is so close, and fate can be heard screaming.

Alkaid can't say for sure why he fell in love with this feeling. It only lasts for an instant, but still leaves him in deep fascination.

When the car reaches the finish line, Alkaid's soul finally finds solace. Mr. McGrath, the "Best Driver of the Year", smiles gently as he received a starry candy bouquet.

"Congratulations, Alkaid!"

Alkaid looks at the girl. Again, he feels the thrilling sensation he'd just experienced. But this time, it faintly whirls around his heart.

He asks the girl, "May I have your name?"

"My name is [MC Name]," she replies.

PSYCHOLOGIST ENDING

Alkaid first became interested in psychology because he wanted to understand himself and other human beings.

Later on, he discovered that the world is a vast ocean where everyone is surrounded by water. People affect and are affected by each other. There is no shame in misfortune and feeling emotions. Reconciliation is a long process. Emotions, just like many things in the world, are contagious.

Although, ever since he became a psychologist, Alkaid thinks he's adapted very well.

"Next, please."

PILOT ENDING

Countless choices in life often originate from fortuitous encounters. Yet, this choices often carry a sense of destiny.

Planes mimic the graceful flight of birds as they ascend into the heavens. Bound by the pull of gravity, they persistently strive to soar higher and higher.

Whenever he soars into the sky and glides over the horizon, and whenever he sees a glimpse of the glow at the end of the world, Alkaid is reminded of one afternoon from many years ago.

Through torrents of rain and storms, he unfurls his wings, determined to fly into the heavens and safeguard the land beneath him.

[literallys-illiteracy]

The Funeral of Dead Butterflies is a trans allegory

I have decided and it is well known that i am never wrong (not legally binding):

This concept branched off from a tangent of a tangent when i was writing Hod’s analysis, which is going to be the next released essay i'm fairly sure, where i thought about the thematic of the butterflies within the coffin; The butterflies within the coffin, for those who did not read the Floor of Technological Sciences Essay, are notable for 2 reasons, the first is that they allowed me to add a joke about milk inside a bag of milk inside a bag of milk, and the second is their concept of metamorphosis:

(holy fuck i dont know how to end a sentace) 

Within the company walls, the employees are trapped, slowly withering away; The mourner comes, carrying a coffin to symbolise all those who died while trapped within this coffin of a company; Within the coffin he carries sleeping butterflies, the employees who remain, for one day the coffin will open, the company will open, and those inside the coffin will be able to sprout their wings, they will be free like butterflies are meant to be.

“Until then, they flutter their wings uselessly. The wings that may have been many jumbled into one, or one split into many. Butterflies are supposed to pollinate flowers, but not a single proper flower blooms in this place. There is no choice but to wait. After all, there must be an end to every world.”

There will be an end to all things; no matter how suffocating, how eternally you think to be trapped, there will come a time for you to use your wings, to fly in a place where flowers bloom, to live as you should live, as you were meant to live.

My bets for the Yisang Solemn lament ID are that its a tremor ID to track with the stagger gimmick that Butterfly had in LoR, and a "reuse coin" mechanic so we get the funny 8 coined skill

[solitablvd]

The Blood Moon

**Minors DNI**

Pairing: Vampire!Javier Escuella x Vampire Slayer!Reader

Summary: With the blood moon's crimson glow tapestrying over the night, you, an experienced vampire slayer on the hunt, find exactly who you're looking for.

Warnings: Human/Vampire Relationship, vampire smut, vampire bites, unprotected p in v, v fingering, marking, blood sucking/drinking, partial mind control, making out, nsfw

Word Count: 3.6k AO3 Link

The wooden porch let out a creak under the heel of your leather boot as you shifted to lean against the railing. The scene before you was a grim, but unfortunately familiar one. Wooden casket, red roses, and tears. You had been in the game so long you had become numb to these situations now.

“For all people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever, just as the memory of dear Grace. Blessed be the life of Grace Barlow, who now lives in eternal peace. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.” The priest gives a final sign of the cross to the crowd before him. You allowed your fingers to move from your head to your chest, then shoulder to shoulder before bringing the rosary that laid upon your chest up to your lips for a final kiss in unison with the crowd.

As the service finished, you made your way down the porch steps as those who were once sitting in rows began to file into the grieving family’s home to await the burial. Walking down the short aisle, you nodded to the priest as he passed you by.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Grace’s husband, Peter. He stood above his deceased wife, staring down at her with eyes red from everlasting tears. As the spurs on your boots clinked, he glanced briefly behind him at you before shifting his attention back to his wife. “You made it.”

You nodded, joining beside him, “Apologies for missing the first half of the service Mr. Barlow. A farmer just North of here said he saw a mysterious male figure near his barn last night. Then found one of his goats with the blood completely drained from it in the early morning. Had to bring in a priest to bless the place, but anyway— I think it might be who you’re looking for.”

Before he could respond you looked down at Grace before you. Her face, though flushed from all its color, looked peaceful. She wore a long, lavender dress, with a matching ascot that was no doubt placed to cover the scar she received from her assailant.

“May I?” You asked Peter. He nodded somberly, placing a gentle hand on Grace’s ascot and pulling it down slightly to reveal her neck. As you suspected, the scarred fang marks were still visible on her pale skin. Her skin was ice cold, but you had touched enough deceased bodies to remain indifferent. You brushed your fingers over the scar.

The bite of a vampire.

“I didn’t get a good look at it.” Peter began, “It was late. I–I told Grace not to go out so late, but she—” His voice shook. “She went anyway, almost as if she was bewitched by that—”

“I understand.” You nodded earnestly. “Not to worry though, if the same one was lurking just North of here, he can’t be too far.” You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

Peter took Grace’s hand once more before muttering, “You better. I am paying you after all.” He placed a final delicate kiss on her skin before closing the wooden casket altogether.

With the shut of the casket you gave a solemn goodbye before turning away, making your way through the family’s home. The sorrowful faces that gathered had no effect on you. They had once upon a time, but that was long ago. When you first began vampire slaying, every case felt personal. You made promises to grieving masses that you couldn’t always keep. Over time you had learned how to steel yourself against the pain of others. You were given your task and you executed these tasks with nothing less than precision and duty. Leaving the residence, you lifted yourself onto your horse and made your way Northbound.

On your journey, you stopped by the local gunsmith in the town of Valentine to ensure you had the right supplies for the night’s hunt. Hunting a vampire would take more than prayers or garlic as many often believe. You hitched your horse, gave her a sweet pat and entered the gunsmith to a familiar face.

“Ah, the vampire slayer.” The shopkeep, Ralph, smiled knowingly, “You haven’t been here in a while. The usual I suppose?” You answered his question affirmingly. He went to the locked wooden box on the wall to grab your ammunition.

“I’ve been out in the plains near Blackwater.” You explained, “I caught word of a woman who was left for dead just outside the perimeter of her home just South of here. Had two holes in her neck. Widower offered to pay me a sizable amount for the bastard’s head.”

Ralph placed a box of pure silver bullets in front of you. “Well, this should do the trick alright.” You picked up one of the bullets to examine it while Ralph continued. “Take the whole box, you might need it; heard it’s a blood moon tonight.”

Your mind began to race as you replaced the lead bullets in your revolver for the silver ones. A blood moon meant the perfect night for hunting a vampire, but for all the wrong reasons. Any vampire out on a blood moon would no doubt be looking for a body to feast on which meant the hunt shouldn’t take much time. The energy of the blood moon however, would also amplify their power. With this in mind, you placed your revolver back into your holster and kept the box of the gleaming bullets.

You began your journey on horseback, heading further North into the West Grizzlies where you suspected the vampire would continue heading, based on where he was last seen. You crossed over the Dakota River and ventured into the increasing vision of trees.

You slowed your horse down to a trot as you spotted tracks of drying blood on the dirt ground, shining in the golden glow of the sunset. The sunsetting meant your time would soon become limited. You hopped off your horse to follow the tracks on foot. You kept one hand on your holster, ready to draw at any given moment before coming across the source of the blood.

The trail of blood led to a large rock, where behind it laid a lifeless doe. The doe appeared gaunt and discolored. This was no work of any ordinary predator. The two holes on the animal’s neck only proved your theory. You brushed your fingers along the two apertures, the blood was still tacky. He couldn’t be too far.

You continued on the trail, slowing your horse to a stop once the sun had finally set. You took out the sharp knife in your holster, holding the edge of the blade to your palm before taking a gasping breath and slicing into yourself.

“Fuck,” You whispered with a wince at the familiar pain. The cut was not deep, but enough to draw a bit of your crimson blood for your next step. You grabbed a white linen handkerchief out of your satchel and first wiped it along your neck to catch your scent. You then used the fabric to wipe the trickling blood off your palm. Once the fabric had been smeared with enough blood you tossed it to the ground below you: the perfect bait.

You strayed from the trail to head into the line of trees to set up a camp for the night, allowing whatever blood was left on your palm to trickle onto the ground below. The light of the moon had already begun to shine, appearing darker than any traditional night. Soon the light would shine red with the blood moon.

You stoked your fire, wanting the smoke to attract your unwanted, yet desired visitor, and rinsed the dried blood from your palm with water from the nearby stream.

The howling of the night’s wind grew as the time passed, the moon becoming a copper version of its original self. You remained seated alongside your campfire, staring at the dancing flames and leaping embers. Your vigilance persisted as the moon grew more and more red through the night, until it was eventually so vivid that it reminded you exactly why it was called a blood moon. The moonlight shone on your makeshift campsite, but was not exactly the inviting kind. The stream nearby now looked like a stream of blood flowing in the shape of veins. The ground before you that was once brown now appeared a wine-red hue.

The nearby rustling of leaves caused you to snap your attention to the line of trees ahead of you. You attempted to spot any figure of some sort, but before you could there was another rustle of leaves behind you. You quickly whirled to face where the noise came from. He was circling you like a predator stalking its prey.

You gulped, but kept a brave face as the snapping of a twig whipped your attention behind you once more. This time you stood quickly, facing the line of trees. In an instant, the creature appeared standing before you.

The vampire was far more elegant than you were used to. Clad in black jeans and a white button-up shirt, saturated in the moon's glow, he wore a long black duster embellished with gleaming golden buttons. His hair was meticulously tied back, effortlessly framing his regal features. His eyes were dark, with a glint of red that you briefly wondered was from the shine of the moon.

“I believe you dropped this, miss.” He spoke, his words coming out like silk as he presented the white handkerchief soiled in your blood. He flashed a smile and even in the scarlet-tinted night you could see the knifelike edges of his fangs.

A beat passed as you contemplated your options. Shooting wasn’t one, at least not yet; he’d easily evade any bullet with the speed he’s displayed, perhaps it would even make him more combative. Your revolver remained in the holster hanging off your hips as you made your next move.

“Oh— it must’ve fallen on my ride.” You spoke innocently, maintaining distance between the two of you.

“Perhaps,” He shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his gaze steady as he looked you up and down.

“Perhaps not.” He allowed the handkerchief to slip from his fingers onto the scarlet floor as he sauntered slowly towards you, “A chance encounter with a vampire sl—”

Those words were your signal to quickly draw your weapon, the metal barrel now aimed directly as his chest.

He stopped in his place, raising his hands in surrender with a smoky chuckle. “Let me finish.”

Instead, you cocked the hammer of the revolver, raising another chuckle from the man, “Ay, no, no. Amada, you don’t want to do that,” His playful, yet alluring demeanor continued. His words were laced with an enticing charm that you were trying to ignore.

As he looked down the barrel of your weapon, you met his gaze once more. His eyes bore into you with what you could only describe as an insatiable desire. The glint of red in his eyes intensified as he spoke smoothly, “You’re not going to pull that trigger.”

You felt your hand stiffen involuntarily against the cold metal. You gasped lightly with realization— he was manipulating your mind. His entrancing words began to echo in your mind. Your finger shook against the trigger as you attempted to resist his unearthly enchantment. This supernatural compulsion was one you had only ever heard of, but never encountered.

You widened eyes only seemed to elicit another smile from the vampire, his tongue quickly brushing over the edge of one of his fangs, “What? Never seen it before? My little trick is… quite something, isn’t it?”

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he made his way beside you. You felt frozen in place, your weapon now pointed at the dark line of trees. He stopped when he was at your elbow, not close enough to touch you, but the pull of his nearby presence was beginning to feel intoxicating.

“Drop it,” He whispered. You felt the words continue to echo in your mind as the weapon slipped right through your hand, dropping onto the floor. His gaze felt magnetic. You couldn’t look away, but you knew this had to be the source of this supernatural compulsion.

As your hands fell to your side, he stepped in front of you. You felt your roles reverse. He had now disarmed your weapon and your will with only a few enchanting words and a fixed look. You stood in silence under the tapestry of the scarlet eclipse; he was thinking, but of what?

The vampire’s gaze broke for only a second to look down at your lips. In the red moonlight they appeared very tempting to the vampire. Though you didn’t know it, he felt entranced by you too. In a way that he knew couldn’t be supernatural, as you were only a mere mortal, yet he felt as though you had bewitched him somehow. His mouth opened to speak once more, but when his eyes flickered back to yours, they found them already closed; for in that instant, you had shut them tightly, halting his entrancement.

You had broken his compulsion of your mind, yet you still felt caught in his undeniable allure. You didn’t move, not to push him away, not even to grab the silver stake laying by your crackling fire. You wanted to remain as close to him as possible.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” He spoke again. As his voice brushed against your ear you could hear that he had now moved behind you. Without your sight you allowed yourself to focus on his voice. He spoke sultrily, his words leaving you wanting more. Could he be suggesting what you thought?

Your silver rosary plastered against your chest reflected brightly against the moon’s crimson glow. No vampire could touch the cross’ wearer without getting their skin scorched. He wanted you, that was clear now. He ached to touch you, but couldn’t as long as the rosary remained a barrier on your body.

You allowed your eyes to flutter open, turning only your gaze back towards him. This time you willingly looked into his eyes, wondering if he felt the same burning desire you did. His lips parted as if he were going to speak again, but closed in silent contemplation.

Tenderly, he reached out for your fingertips. Before you could register his touch he was recoiling with a sharp wince as his skin felt the searing of the cross. Your eyes widened in shock, wondering why he’d risk getting burned. You look down at his fingers, the tips now a scorched black, then back up to him with sympathy. Your compassion was unexpected as you felt an odd sense of admiration for his action.

“It’ll be worth it,” He reassured you in a murmur, “Just for one touch.”

A blooming sensation filled your body, your cheeks flushing at his words. You could feel yourself pulse with want— with need. You both remained silent as you raised your hands to unclamp the necklace. Your heart raced as you let the rosary slip off your chest onto the wine-red ground below.

He took one of your hands in his and you felt his touch for the first time. His touch was cold this time, yet held an ethereal quality. He pressed a tender kiss against the top of your hand, then held onto it as his kisses traveled delicately up your arm. Every kiss was intoxicating and filled with his passion. As his lips pressed against your shoulder, he slowed, allowing you time to tilt your head to give him complete access to your neck.

“I think…” He muttered against the bare skin of your neck, his breath sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. His lips grazed you as he continued, “I deserve a taste.”

An involuntary, trembling moan escaped your lips as his began to kiss your nape ever so gently. You looked up to the blood red moon, its deep red glow reflecting onto both your bodies. You gasped lightly as he nipped you lightly, holding himself back from devouring you altogether.

You brought your hand up to caress him as he continued to kiss hungrily at the crook of your neck. You craved more of him, pulling him in closer to let him know you needed more. He groaned against your neck as his hands began to explore your curves. You arched your back against his touch. He rubbed his hands over your breasts, then moved down to your hips to press your bodies closer together. His touch was sending a burning sensation throughout your body, you could feel yourself begin to throb at the feeling.

He used his hands to turn you to face him, keeping his hands rubbing up and down your hips in harmony with your arms now placed on his biceps. He kissed up your jawline, eventually finding home against your open lips. He kissed you hungrily as you returned the carnal lust. He was addicting, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned against his lips with desperation.

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer. The movement was all he needed to effortlessly lift you, his hands getting lost in the ruffles of your long skirt as you cupped his face to kiss him deeply, your lips growing more and more needy.

Amongst your palpable insatiableness, he gracefully pressed you against a tree. You moved your hands down and began frantically undoing the lace of your bodice. Feeling your hands, the vampire took the liberty of assisting you by yanking at the lace, pulling it off of you easily before tossing it onto the floor along with his duster.

He took his lips off yours only to turn his attention back to your neck, grazing it with careful passion as he worked his way down to your collarbones, and lifting you higher to nip at your breasts. You threw your head back against the tree in pleasure, arching your back against what you could feel was his hardening cock below. He kept one hand beneath you, supporting his hips to keep you pinned up against the tree, but allowed his other hand to slip between your thighs

Your nails raked across the back of his white button-up shirt as you gripped him desperately, the burning fire becoming overwhelming as his fingers pushed past your undergarments to play with your wetness. He continued to suck on your breasts, marking you as his own. The combined sensations left you pleading for more.

“Please,” You whimpered, arching against his fingers, begging for him to enter. You felt him smile against your skin, his eyes flickering up to yours with contemptment at your desperation.

He gave in, letting one of his fingers slip into you. You trembled at the feeling, gripping him tighter. He moved his finger up and down at an achingly slow pace, enjoying how you threw your head back, looking up at the red night sky, muttering please, please, please as if you were pleading to God for more. He answered your prayers by gently slipping another finger up into you. He moved up to nip back at your neck, enjoying the vibrations that came with your needy moans.

The scent of blood he got from your neck became dizzying for him. He moaned deeply against your neck, pulling back, but keeping his forehead pressed against your collarbone in what appeared to be frustration.

“Eres una dulzura,” He breathed out. He slipped his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to taste sensually before reaching down to undo his jeans. He swiftly pushed his already hardened cock into you with fervor, causing you to let out a sharp gasp. With that, you pushed your lips back against his hungrily and raked your fingers through his hair.

You arched your back against him as he continued to pound into you. His rhythm quickened with approval as you grew incoherent against his lips. He let his hand slip down to rub your sensitive clit in circles, causing you to buck your hips with eagerness as you began to moan noisily at his touch. He didn’t let up, keeping in time with his thrusting as you felt your bodying nearing its peak.

His pace quickened as the pressure within him increased, needing release. He grunted against your neck, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. With a final thrust, you felt him still inside you as he reached his climax, the hot liquid filling you fervently as he rode out his high. He groaned loudly as he moved his fingers quickly against your clit as you let him know you were going to come too.

Just as you reached your peak, you felt his fangs scrape the delicate skin of your neck before puncturing your skin completely. You cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. The bite sent a powerful force through your body as you reached your climax. Your body clenched with intensity as he sucked on your neck with an insatiable hunger. You quivered against him, clinging onto his body for support.

He roughly brought his mouth away from your neck, as if holding himself back. He panted heavily, the blood— your blood— dripping from his fangs. His tongue quickly brushed over his lips to collect the dripping blood as he didn’t want any of it to go to waste.

He slipped himself out of you before gently placing you back onto the ground, though you remained leaned against the tree behind you for support. He continued to plant sinfully slow kisses along your collarbone as you breathed heavily, looking up and silently praying the red moon above would forget to go down and keep this night eternal.

[thechibifoxcub]

Darkness Evermore 💔

It’s painful, and desolate yet freeing in a sense as the bouquet of once vibrant reds and golds shriveled in their final tomb beside his work desk. The vase that contains the withered corpses of roses and tulips sat as a sick, twisted sense of irony sat like a heavy stone in his gut. Freeing as it may seem, to only him, as the flower stems branched out from the confinements of their cage only to reach out to a sun that wasn’t even there. Freeing in a sense of a last attempt to seek salvation that only someone like he could provide.

It hurts him in more ways than one, but for some reason he can’t seem to rid of himself of the only remaining piece of you that he has. The last gift that you would ever bestow upon him as he tries to recall the dazzling smile you always wore whenever the two of you were together. He doesn’t remember the reason why you decided to gift him with flowers; however, he would never turn down anything that you would give him. Never. Not even once.

So as he turns his gaze away from the final remnants of a life that once brought happiness and love, he prays to any deity or power to hear him, just one last time.

“Should a day come where you and I are no longer to be…. then I pray that in the next life we can be everything once again…”

[Another one-shot as I try to wrap my head around the fact that life has been so stressful lately. A dog that I’ve known and helped care for with my family had to be put down last week. On top of that my depression and anxiety has me down as well, but it’s nothing new for me. Just a lot of things all at once and I haven’t found an outlet till now. I wrote this with no particular person and/or character in mind, but I’ll tag the games and characters that I thought about when writing this. If you have a favorite character in mind and I didn’t tag them the please forgive me! Thank you~]

[lephamquynhnhu]

Panacea

Chapter 1: Pretty ripples on water

Dan Feng x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: The reader has a default name, OOC. (This is a work of fanfiction, events are not aligned or relevant to the original work)

Word count: ~1,1k

Summary: He met you on a drizzling day when hydrangea fully bloomed on its field. Amidst the sea of mild pastel petals, Dan Feng never thought the flowery domain that intertwined your fate was the precise thing withered with you. They said he was a dragon, a hero, a sinner, but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world. However, it was a demi-truth. He committed the cardinal sin because of you.

Note: Do you like...pain?

The soothing melody of raindrops falling through the thick foliage barely touches his hair as Dan Feng strides on the worn path underneath. The Ten-Lords commissioned him to investigate the supernatural phenomena in the Faery Forest, which inhabitants rumor it recently haunted. The golden sun conceals itself behind the aloft gloomy clouds draping an eerily grey ambiance, and the voidness of birds singing wafts a scary serenity.

There are plenty of stories and myths about the woods, but the infamous one was a wise Nymph who guarded the forest as the Alliance established. When the first Denizen of Abundance occurred, to preserve her homeland from the crossfire of the war, the Nymph divided herself into divine fragments asunder to enhance the endurance of the woods. Thanks to the Nymph's might, her forest remained intact after devastating battles. However, she could not regain her strength to unite divinity, so the wise Nymph gradually faded, her name eventually fell into oblivion, and the story is no more than a mythopedia. It is said that her Authorities dissolved in the forest to protect her beloved homeland forever. The native Loufu named the woods based on that story, and whatever the stories are, this forest has sustained through many sanguinary warfare and become one of the most venerated destinations.

The report says that citizens who live near the haunted place or some passing by currently hear a bizarre resonance in the Faery forest at dawn, and they even claim to witness jack-o'-lantern at twilight. To verify the statement, Dan Feng's presence from the blush of morn strolling around an hour and finds nothing akin to the rumor. The drizzle is getting heavier as raindrops start seeping through his attire. Looking at the overcast sky through a dense web of leaves, he forecasts it will soon be a downpour. When Dan Feng considers postponing the commission, a weak sound threads through ancient arbors, which beat like a song - a nursery rhyme. Simultaneously, a chilly breeze permeates with moisture rises as though pushing him toward the siren as soon as the resonance appears. The glint of surprise quickly quenches when Imbibitor Lunae decides to follow the sound's origin.

He keeps running with all senses on guards under the last remnants of light dimly lit his way until a field of flowers welcomes him when exiting the forest. Dan Feng never thought there would be people living beyond the woods and isolating themselves from society. Reflecting in those cyan irises is a girl standing amidst the hydrangea fully bloomed on its field, who raises her voice while one hand holds a cart of multi-colored flowers and the other curls around the axis of her umbrella. Suddenly, when detecting a foreigner's existence, you stop singing and tilt your head toward his position. To your right, an emotionless man with a prominent horned crown atop his forehead whom you know precisely. The drizzle turns into rain as water continuously trails down the High Elder's porcelain face.

"Your Majesty, it may become torrential rain. Would you like to shelter at my house?" - You kindheartedly open an invitation while sauntering to Dan Feng and sharing your umbrella. A weary inquiry escapes Imbibitor Lunae's lips as he notices you use the title in greeting, but Dan Feng only receives a mysterious smile.

Outside the limited space, raindrops seem progressively heavier when they drum on the umbrella panel, and the surroundings are covered in a misty veil. The calm demeanor in the Long Scion's eyes never wavers, and you can tell he sights right through your soul, searching for something. A familiar feeling creeps up his mind, yet somehow different. "Yes, please lead the way." - Dan Feng eventually accepts your invitation after a brief moment as he gently takes the shalt from your gloved hand.

After avoiding the rain at your house, all suspicions were clear, and he assumed to close the case because the enigmatic echo was your singing voice, and the fen-fire originated from your paper lantern. When Dan Feng mentioned those phenomena, an astonishment tinged your face yet soon morphed into grinning. "My sincere apologies, Your Majesty. But, you may conclude your commission now." - You breathlessly said while trying to regain your formal posture.

The crispy sound of embers crackling mingles with thunderbolts from afar, which craft an inexplicably refreshing atmosphere. Compared to the natural noise outside, Dan Feng thinks your voice seems to dissolve into the ether. Although those emerald orbs never leave the white wall made from endless heavy raindrops, his attention still focuses on your conversation. Besides, the High Elder learned you are a florist who has settled here about three years. "I succeeded in my grandmother's business after looking after her ailment.'' - Your tone is monotonous, but a distant feeling boiling up while leisurely replenishing his teacup. Dan Feng keeps practicing a good listener's role and slowly sips the tea. The smoky steam flowing at the brim that carries a floral scent of Wildrose thread through his nostrils reduces mind stress.

Unknowingly, your one-way dialogue at the wooden terrace goes smoothly under the chilly downpour of early summer. When the homemade delicacy marries with the beverage is out of stock, and the tea is drying up in the pot, the shower stops falling, which renders a landscape as spectacular as pictured. At first, Dan Feng thought your lifestyle was a little too austere as if the only living being at a monastery and sealing away the community. Nevertheless, he comprehends the reason as the sunlight shines brightly again. The previous rain aqua absolutes all reveal a Shangri-La with a boundless field of vivid flowers. Boasting butterflies start levitating around the garden while a rainbow faintly appears on the horizon.

Imbibitor Lunae intended to carry his commission, but now, this Elysium might cast a spell to change his mind, to return once again. Furthermore, the treat you offered also brings up his appetite, so Dan Feng wants to taste them once again.

"Do you wish to grow any plant's breed?" - The High Elder says as he stands up from the wooden chair, fetching his cloak with eyes still fixed on the flowery domain unfold. You tilt your head quizzically because it is uncommon for him to open the conversation, unable to respond immediately. "I want to compensate you for your kindhearted hospitality." - He quickly clarifies your inquiry as if possessing mind-reading arts. This time, Dan Feng initiates eye contact with you; a gentle wind blows through, causing dispersed petals to swirl around. His lashes lightly move in approval when he hears your answer. Empirical Peony sure will gorgeously bloom under your care. Before leaving, Dan Feng abruptly halts his foot as he realizes he has forgotten something essential.

"What is your name?" You look at his tall back while snickering behind your palm to suppress the giggles. A cozy orange hue from the blazing flame that nestles in your fireplace shimmers on your face as you answer "Yi Ting. Yi in ripples on water, Ting in pretty."

[cnnmairoll]

HII! I don’t know if you know jing yuans lore, but I’d you don’t this will have some slight spoilers for it.

Okay so, if your willing to write hurt/no comfort, may I request one where with jing yuan in which he knows reader likes him and he likes the reader too, but he has a huge fear he will “loose” the reader, because of how many of his friends died.

This can also still be a hurt/comfort situation, and I don’t mind which one you choose. Thank you <3

Eternal Regret

Pairing : Jing Yuan x Reader Genre : Angst, Hurt/No Comfort a/n : Sure thing anon! Angst is not what I usually write so I tried my best with this one! hope this is to your liking! ^_^

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦.

In the quiet, moonlit chambers of the Xianzhou Luofu fortress, where the hushed whispers of secrets and the weight of history intertwined, your heartache found its dwelling. Unseen, unspoken, it brewed in the caverns of your soul, a bitter elixir of longing and despair. And at the center of it all, like a shadow cast in moonlight, stood General Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan and his indolent demeanor was a well-crafted facade, hiding the depth of his emotions, the tumultuous sea of his thoughts. You knew this because you were drawn into those depths, your heart ensnared by the man who commanded the Cloud Knights.

In the beginning, it had been subtle, like the first stirrings of a storm on a distant horizon. The stolen glances across the training grounds, the fleeting brushes of fingers when exchanging scrolls—innocent enough to be dismissed as mere coincidence, yet heavy with unspoken desire. You were entangled in a love that dared not speak its name, for to do so was to risk the consequences.

But you had sensed it, hadn't you? The unspoken truth in the way he looked at you, in the rare moments of vulnerability that flickered across his face like lightning in the night. You knew that Jing Yuan felt something too, something profound, something that had the potential to bind you together.

Yet, like a fragile thread threatening to snap, that connection remained fragile, on the precipice of breaking, and you didn't understand why. Why did he pull away when it seemed that your love was mutual? Why did he keep you at arm's length, even as his heartache mirrored your own?

The answer, as you would come to know, lay in the scars of his past. It was a past haunted by countless battles, by comrades lost to the relentless march of time. Jing Yuan was a long-life species, a being that had witnessed centuries of life and death, a soul that had been battered and bruised by the passage of ages.

He had loved before, you realized, loved deeply and irrevocably, only to watch those he cherished wither away into dust. Friends, lovers, allies—all gone, their laughter and their warmth fading into distant memories. The weight of those losses had etched a profound fear into his heart, a fear that paralyzed him, made him hesitate to embrace the love that stood before him.

In his mind, you were another fragile life, another potential tragedy waiting to unfold. And so, he pushed you away, gently but persistently, like a boat adrift in treacherous waters, afraid that the storm would consume you as it had consumed so many before.

But you, you were not content to be cast aside, not content to watch your love wither and die like a flower denied the sun's embrace. You yearned to understand, to break through the walls he had erected around his heart. You pleaded, you whispered words of affection, you bared your own vulnerabilities in the hopes that he would do the same.

But Jing Yuan, bound by his fear, remained resolute in his solitude. He watched you with eyes that spoke of a love he dared not indulge, and in his silence, he shattered your heart anew with each passing day.

It was a slow descent into anguish, a painful dance of yearning and rejection. You loved him, and he loved you, and yet the chasm between you seemed insurmountable. The fortress walls that guarded his heart were unyielding, and the silent tears you shed in the stillness of the night were your only companions in this wretched tragedy.

In the end, the fear that haunted Jing Yuan had become a self-fulfilling prophecy. You were lost to him, not by death, but by the choice to forsake the love that had blossomed in the shadows. And as you walked away, your heart heavy with sorrow, you knew that you would forever be haunted by the ghost of a love that had never truly been allowed to flourish.

In the depths of the Xianzhou Luofu fortress, the General watched as you disappeared into the night, his heart heavy with the weight of his own regrets. And as the tears you had shed glistened in the moonlight, he knew that he had lost not just a love, but the chance for his own heart to awaken from its long slumber.

In the years that followed, Jing Yuan became a solitary figure, a ghost of the man he once was. The fortress that had been his sanctuary became his prison, and the memories of you haunted him like a relentless specter. He had pushed you away out of fear, but in doing so, he had condemned himself to a life of endless sorrow.

And as the centuries passed, he watched as empires rose and fell, as wars came and went, but nothing could fill the void that you had left behind. He longed for the touch of your hand, the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your presence, but all that remained were the echoes of a love that had been lost in the shadows. And in the deepest recesses of his heart, he knew that he had paid the price for his fear, a price that would haunt him for all eternity.

[isokoe]

SILVER DAWN: Iron Steve’s

ABILITY: Physical Power, the strongest physically of the Ore Steve’s

VALUE: Community, Unity, Loyalty

RELIGION: Iron Steve’s aren’t very religious, at least, not anymore, but the religion they do have is that the world was created by Elemental, who moulded the ground and oceans, the skies and underground, every biome was his. The Ore Steve’s were created as Elemental had grown lonely one day, finding that his little world was boring with just animals and nothing else. He used the ore blocks from the underground and moulded them into the first Ore Steve’s. After creating the Ore Steve’s, he was satisfied with his work, and resided into the core of the earth. It is popularly believed that when Elemental rises from the Earth again, it is what is considered judgement day.

When Praying to Elemental for more religious Iron Steve’s, they go on their knees and lean their head forward onto the ground, they must have an offering of Lily Of the Valley’s, Fresh Apples and/or a Azalea sapling to pray as it is believed this is Elemental’s treasured flower, fruit, and tree. After you’re done, throw the offerings into the fire and bow once more and then leave.

CULTURE: Iron Steve’s have a few very special events in their years. One that was commonly shared between Ore Steve’s is the Ore Steve Festival, which originated when racism between Ore’s were very high, and there were a vast majority of Ore’s in land that had prejudice against the Ore’s who chose to stay underground(Obsidian, Amethyst) and those who resided in the ocean(Prismarine). The Ore Steve Festival is meant to commemorate all Ore Steve’s, the lives lost during this period known as the Ore War, and make sure that this type of thing doesn’t happen anymore by promoting harmony regardless of Ore. However there are still some more mild hidden racism that can be seen in certain Ore Steve’s, particularly the older generation. In the festival, Ore Steve’s from all over, every kingdom, come together and share their culture, food, and so on. It’s probably also the only way you may see certain Ore’s, especially Prismarine.

A more Iron Steve pertained festivity is the New Year Celebrations, Iron Steve’s spend their new years counting down together and spending time with the whole community. The Leader and Apprentice arrange games and activities and everyone takes part. There is also shared meals and everything, this is because of how Iron Steve’s value their community a lot, you’re more likely to see two Iron Steve’s than one. Ever. Or well, in the past really…

another Iron Steve culture event is Independence Day, this is because Iron Steve’s used to be colonised. During the time when Ore Steve’s had high racism, there was also colonisation of certain Ore Steve’s. Many Ore Steve’s planned to colonise the Prismarine, Amethyst, or Obsidian. But the Land Ore’s that were colonised are: Gold’s, Coal’s, Iron’s. Lapis Steve’s colonised Gold Steve’s, Redstone Steve’s colonised Coal Steve’s, and Diamond Steve’s colonised Iron Steve’s. The Iron Steve’s fought for their independence and overthrew the Diamond’s which finally signed a treaty to let them go. Emerald’s were pretty much the only ones who remained neutral(though there was still a racial bias)

Iron Steve’s commemorate their independence from the Diamond’s by hosting their own festival, where they have old games Iron’s used to play, mourning of the lives lost for their independence, and the reminder of history for young Iron’s, always to remember that United as one, they would fight for their freedom together as a family. Or well, community.

One of the events is also related to another war, the Iron Civil War. This was when the Withering had first started, prior to this, Iron Steve’s were already having a split between ideologies and views, but when the withering happened, a lot of crops and so on were hit badly, and both sides had different plans. This caused a HUGE civil war, resulting in many lives being lost until finally the treaty was formed, where the two leaders of each side melted a part of the iron in their body briefly, and mould the magma together into what is now known as the Unity Heirloom, something all leaders have to wear. It isn’t necessarily a festival than it is a day of itself. The leader has a speech, many Iron Steve’s spend the day with each other, baking food or gifting is a strong part of this day.

Iron Steve’s more religious holidays however probably have to be Elemental’s Birthday, which is the equivalent of Christmas in there. For the month you cannot eat meat or fish, you must fast at night, and pray everyday. On the day itself, there are masses or get togethers hosted and Lily of The Valleys are decorated everywhere.

all these Culture festivities and events have however unfortunately been stopped and cannot be properly commemorated because of the Skulk. Everyone’s struggling to survive and put food on their plate.

BACKGROUND: Iron Steve’s were hit pretty badly by the skulk. They’re one of the most nutritious types of Ore’s for skulk, because of how their ability is physicality. After the first wave, a thankfully fast evacuation helped save the lives of many and ensured that they didn’t all go extinct. They’re endangered just as most Ore Steve’s are pretty much. They can’t live in fertile land because they lost a lot of the manpower and firepower they needed, and well… physical strength or speed or anything does not help when you’re against a infectious parasitic highly speedy growing plant which has spores that can cause one of the most devastating diseases seen by Ore Steve’s.

Thus they had to try and farm on infertile land even if it isn’t very successful, and actively scouts have to go out. They have a special outfit for scouts going out with full body set armour to prevent infection more. It’s really dangerous. Livestock is considered important, and any crops grown is good. Currently there has been issues with unpredictable and extreme rain downpour, ranging from heavy to pretty much nothing in an instant. Another factor is how Iron Steve’s are an ageing population, same as every Ore. Their leader has been the leader for generations, he’s already suited to retire to a Elder but he can’t. So his apprentice though relatively young is getting ready to take over. Rationing is getting pretty bad too.

Agsshaha I would say more but… sillies…. GRAHHH, thank you if you made it this far for coming to my Ted talk ramble /pos, hope you enjoyed!!!

[anghraine]

I’ve been following you for years now and my dumb ass just put together Míriel and Faramir. Between that and the wave dream it’s making me a bit emo I won’t lie lol

Aww, that's totally fair! And I appreciate the long-time follow :)

Miriel/Faramir anon, I just had another thought that just clicked thinking abt your aging post and Miriel remaining youthful/ageless while Pharazon ages and decays also foils with youthful Faramir contrasted against prematurely aging Denethor. One ends with drowning while the other (almost) ends with immolation. Ok bye lol

YES the water/fire youth/age visual imagery is so interesting, I think!

I've often vaguely associated Tar-Míriel and Faramir through the combination of the jewel imagery and the Akallabêth, yes. I don't think I've ever written about Faramir's dream/vision/ancestral memory of it without assuming that Míriel figures in some way, even though Tolkien never said so. Partly that's because the final image of her drowning on the Meneltarma is so much the image of the Akallabêth for me, but also the echo of the jewel theme.

One of my first fics ever (for any fandom) was about Faramir dreaming of Míriel drowning, and then waking up beside a pregnant Éowyn and adjusting. And it is not only for the coincidence of name elements that Faramir becomes Míriel in my f/f Aragorn/Faramir verse. I think that in canon, Faramir already has some intriguing associations with water:

fára in Quenya means 'shore' (though in fairness, he may have been named for his distant cousin, Prince Faramir of the House of Anárion, rather than meaning)

Faramir's first remembered grief is a dim memory of his dying mother, who "withered in the guarded city, as a flower of the seaward vales set upon a barren rock ... she turned her eyes ever south to the sea that she missed." He was five when she died, but pretty blatantly resembles her as well as Denethor in character.

Faramir often dreams of Númenor being drowned for completely unknown reasons (I mean, it actually happened, and it's Tolkien's dream, but we don't know why he gets the dreams about it in-story—though he's also particularly receptive to the prophecy-dream-riddle). Everyone knows his description of the Akallabêth dream, but the description is still pretty harrowing: "the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness unescapable."

Faramir is standing by the water when he has the vision/not vision of Boromir's body floating down to the sea.

So it's even more interesting that Faramir's "case" of the Black Breath is different from everyone else's—the others grow cold/icy while he burns. Of course, that's potentially linked to his near immolation by Denethor, but the contrast with Míriel's death and the (metaphorical)(ish) shadow of the sea over him is really intriguing. When I was trying to figure out how f!Faramir-Míriel would get the Boromir vision, I was like "well she wouldn't literally be keeping watch by the river, but maybe it could reach her through some other water association, like ... oh! like the Akallabêth dream! and then I could have her relationship with Tar-Míriel's legacy and everything in it too..."

[minarixx]

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐍𝐨𝐰 ✯ 𝐀.𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚

'𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙮, "𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚"'

PAIRING. Ex Atsumu Miya x Ex f!Reader

CONTENT. angst, unrequited love

Miya Atsumu finds himself grappling with a swirl of emotions as he watches his high school sweetheart walk down the aisle to marry his own brother.

WC. 1.3K

A/N. was listening to the new album and made a lil drabble

Masterlink - Songs Unwritten

𝓣he church radiated an aura of enchantment, adorned with blossoming flowers and the soft glow of candlelight. Atsumu stood at the back, a knot of conflicting emotions tightening in his chest. His gaze fixed upon the woman he had once called his own, as she prepared to be wed to his brother, Osamu. Dressed in his finest suit, he felt a mix of nostalgia and heartache, as memories of their shared past flooded his mind.

As the organ's melody echoed through the sacred space, Atsumu's thoughts traveled back to a time when he and Y/N were inseparable. They had been high school sweethearts, their love flourishing in the innocence of youth. 

Their connection had been undeniable, their dreams woven together with the promise of forever. But life had taken them on different paths, leading Y/N into the arms of his brother.

High school had been a time of innocent dreams and boundless possibilities for Atsumu and Y/N. They were sitting together on a warm summer day, nestled beneath the shade of a towering oak tree, their fingers intertwined. The world around them seemed to fade away as they discussed their aspirations, their laughter filling the air.

Y/N gazed at Atsumu, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. "Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us, Atsumu?"

He smiled, his heart dancing to the rhythm of her voice. "All the time, Y/N. I can't help but imagine a future where we're together, where we conquer the world side by side."

She laughed as she looked at his puppy dog eyes leaning in closer, her voice a whisper carried by the breeze. "Tell me, Atsumu, what does our future look like in your wildest dreams?"

He took a moment to think, his mind spinning with images of a life they had yet to experience. "In my wildest dreams, we're chasing our passions fearlessly. You're a renowned artist, painting masterpieces that capture the essence of life itself. And me? I'm a successful volleyball player, I'd be so good that it would touch the hearts of millions."

Her laughter rang out, a sound that painted his world with joy. "Oh, and where do we live in this dream of yours?"

Atsumu's eyes sparkled with excitement. "A big fancy house on the hill where we could see the sea."

Y/N's fingers traced patterns on his palm, her touch leaving a trail of electric warmth. "That sounds perfect, Atsumu. I can't wait for our future together, whatever it may hold."

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/N, you're my greatest inspiration. With you by my side, I know we can achieve anything we set our minds to."

They sat in comfortable silence, their hearts entwined in a tapestry of shared dreams and unspoken promises. The future beckoned, and they were ready to embark on the journey together, hand in hand, their love illuminating the path ahead.

As they sat beneath that oak tree, life would take them on unexpected twists and turns, leading them to separate destinies. But the memory of that conversation, the dreams they had shared, would forever remain etched in their souls, a reminder of the love they had once held and the possibilities that had sparked in their youthful hearts.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Atsumu had been haunted by memories of their stolen kisses, secret rendezvous, and whispered promises. The tender moments they shared had become fragments of a past that lingered within his heart, refusing to fade away. He had watched their love blossom, only to wither away when Y/N's gaze shifted towards his brother.

As the ceremony began, Atsumu's eyes remained fixated on Y/N, his mind retracing the steps that had led them to this moment. He saw her standing beside Osamu, her smile radiant, her eyes gleaming with a love that once belonged to him. The vows they exchanged were a poignant reminder of the love they had shared, now destined to be a distant memory.

Silently, Atsumu replayed the intimate conversations, the stolen glances, and the shared dreams that had once defined their relationship. He wondered what had gone wrong, what had pulled them apart and guided Y/N into Osamu's arms. Had he missed an opportunity to fight for their love, to claim the happiness he had once believed was his?

As Y/N spoke her vows, her voice filled with devotion, Atsumu's heartache intensified. He caught glimpses of the woman he had fallen for, the essence of their connection still visible in her eyes. It was a cruel twist of fate, witnessing her pledge her love to his brother while his heart silently shattered in the background.

With each passing moment, Atsumu's longing grew, entwined with an overwhelming acceptance of his reality. He had lost her, not only to his brother but to the circumstances that life had thrust upon them. His love for Y/N had become a bittersweet reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of family bonds.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Atsumu fought back tears, a torrent of emotions surging through his veins. He managed a fragile smile, masking the ache within, as he wished his brother and Y/N a lifetime of happiness. His unrequited love would forever remain a buried treasure, a secret locked away in the depths of his heart.

Atsumu sought solace in the shadows, observing the festivities from a distance. He watched as Osamu and Y/N danced, their movements graceful and their joy palpable. A mix of pride, melancholy, and resignation washed over him, as he realized that his place in their story had forever changed.

After the ceremony, Atsumu sought a moment alone with Y/N. He approached her softly, his voice tinged with a mix of pain and resignation. "Y/N, may I steal a few moments of your time?"

Y/N turned, surprise and uncertainty evident in her eyes. "Atsumu, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be celebrating with everyone else?"

He offered a gentle smile, masking the tumultuous emotions beneath. "I needed to see you, Y/N. We need to talk."

Her brows furrowed, a mixture of worry and curiosity flickering across her face. "Atsumu, we can't... not today. It's Osamu's day, and it wouldn't be right."

He nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, Y/N. I just... I wanted to say that I hope you find true happiness. You deserve it, even if it's not with me."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached out to touch his arm. "Atsumu, you have no idea how much you mean to me. But things changed, and we can't change them back. I've made my choice, and it's tearing me apart to see you like this."

A tremor ran through his body as he fought to hold back his tears. "I understand, Y/N. I truly do. It's just... seeing you marry him, knowing what we once had... it's a pain I'll carry with me."

She leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. "Atsumu, please try to find happiness too. You deserve it, more than you'll ever know."

As they stood in the shadow of their unspoken desires, their hands brushed for a brief moment, a fleeting connection that carried a universe of unspoken words.

With a heavy heart, Atsumu took a step back, his eyes locked with Y/N's for a lingering moment. "I'll always cherish what we had, Atsumu. Even if it's as a whisper in the wind."

As they parted ways, each carrying the weight of unfulfilled love, their souls found solace in the knowledge that their paths had diverged, and life would carry them forward, separate but forever linked by a bond that time could never erase.

His voice quivered with emotion as he whispered to himself, "And I'll always treasure the love we shared, Atsumu. You'll forever be a part of me."

©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.

[avampyone]

Prompt #2: In his snare

Characters: Gabriel Devrau, Ange B'londe

Synopsis: Ange wishes to throw an important party, but a few obstacles are in the way.

Setting: In the depths of the Great Gubal Library.

Warning to suggestive themes.

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

“Rise and shine!”

There was something that pressed against the tip of his noise that made Gabriel twist in his sleep out of frustration in disturbance from his deep slumber, fingers digging into the thick blankets around him. If not for the flickering of the gaudy neon light of pink and purple that spelled out the line “Kiss Me” lined on one of the many shelves nearby, Gabriel may have never even seen him. He rapidly blinked his bleary pale eyes to see someone crouched down on the side table nearest to his bed. The blonde-haired Wildwood lay strewn out, short thick locks sticking out in many directions and his wrinkled shirt only partially unbuttoned. He still wore his tight leather pants and buckled boots. He had passed out some time before he’d managed to get fully undressed.

That wasn’t what bothered him. There was a tall figure that sat proudly on the corner of his coffee table, grinning wildly like some gargoyle keeping watch. He didn’t even think twice whenever he grabbed a small vase nearest to him containing the remains of a withered daisy before chucking this at the ‘creature.’ In one smooth motion, there was no one there and the vase crashing into the wall to crack into a million tiny little pieces with a growing mixture of water and left-over dried bits of the poor flower.

“What the hell?! Do you have any decency-at all-? I could have been naked, you know…Besides, I was having a nice dream about two blondes and a redhead. Seeing you was an instant turn-off; I’ll have you know.” He growled, pale eyes not hesitating to glare upon the well-dressed figure. Slowly, he pulled himself from the tangle of blankets to shift himself up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Metal hands, one of which glowed with a distinctly purple pulse of light emitting all throughout it, lifted to rub the corners of his eyes in such a life-like way that one might question if they were metal at all.

“Anyone with decency would never make a deal with a man like me. You should know this very well, darling~” The voice was maddeningly cheerful in such a manner that always grated on his nerves. With long straight pale hair framing his pale features, Ange stood there looking as immaculate as ever in his black suit and shining black shoes to match, making Gabriel question if it had been him on his coffee table or not.

As usual, his eyes lay hidden behind the thick frames of the glasses he wore with one leather clad gloved had coming to delicately grab ahold of the other betwixt his fingers to give a light tug, “Oh, who cares about the details anyway?! What’s most important for you is to know that tonight is a very special night. All my friends will be in attendance for an underground black-tie soiree. The sort of event where we drink fine wines, dance, and laugh together and make dreadful small talk well into the evening hours. There will be theater! And- “

“Get to the point, will you?! What do I care about this party of yours? Sounds boring as hell...” Gabriel openly insulted in his tiredness with arms crossing over one another petulantly, uncaring if his open shirt laid his broad chest bared with no care if Ange looked. Not that he thought he would – With the glasses, who knew?

Ange had turned to stare upon the shelf that contained the many guns he possessed, humming playfully to himself when it looked like he had lost his train of thought, “Right, about that. You do enjoy your toys, don’t you…How useful they will be in this task. All you must do is lure out the feral into the horizon and leave them there to let the rising sun do the rest when the morning comes. Unfortunately, a few have crawled out into the basement of my chateau. It will not do to have them chewing on my guests~” Striding up in a few quick movements, Ange’s gloved hand had ruffled back through his hair before suddenly clenching in a tight unmovable hold that Gabriel tried to pull away from – He couldn’t when Ange inched closer.

A chilly coldness emanated from him that the blonde found himself pushing back away from the best he could, yet still he glared at him dangerously, “Before the morning sun rises, Gabriel - I should not have to remind you what could happen if you do not play your part in our little game...” Ange let him go, dusting his hands off like to be rid of him for now and strolled on right out of the room in a merry little gait.

“Fine. Fine! Damn it all...” Gabriel didn’t even bother to change at this point. Why bother when dealing with the ferals? His clothing would become torn and blood splattered mess before the morning came. He reached for the half-filled bottle of vodka nearby, putting it to his lips to take a generous drink from before placing back onto the coffee table for later.

With a heavy breath leaving him, he stood to peruse the selection before him. Picking up one magitek gun from the top shelf with a long barrel that lit up with a panel of lights to his touch, Gabriel slung the leather strap over his shoulder. He reached for a large black casing from his desk, opening the flat end of the gun to replace the batteries that lie within, “Let’s get this over with…”