#thanatophobia fic

[crashing-all-modes]

FINALLY POSTED AGAIN RAHHHHHHHHHH

The way that this is now 82,000 words is SO NUTS TO ME?!??!

Anyway, this chapter is Jaime centric 😘

[smudged-kaleidoscope]

Every once in a while I remember this one fic I read where I was all like "tee hee, twin telepathy" and then I read it and saw my deepest fears spelt out near perfectly back to me and I will never be the same.

[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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[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - VI

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.2k.

Reading Time: 25 min.

Warnings: body horror, falling from heights, graphic depictions of thanatophobia, graphic (yet brief) descent into madness, graphic injuries, mentions of death, mentions of conversion therapy, mentions of experimentation on living things, mentions of femicide, mentions of homophobia, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of stoning, mild sexism, religious disillusionment, religious trauma, slut shaming

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

“It burned down!?”

Your lamenting voice howled through the eaves of the Cardinal’s room, laced with so much shock, you had to place the pages on the floor and stare at the Cardinal. He was sat at his desk, typing on his computer (a device he taught you about after your trip to the library, but he never let you touch). He was in his pajamas and robe again, hair freshly tousled from a day of sleep, and face entirely free of make up, stubble present on his chin where he hadn’t shaved and felt no inclination to. The Cardinal laughed - laughed at your sorrow upon learning the Library of Alexandria had been destroyed in the early 1st Century after the birth of Yeshua.

You saw the Cardinal’s shoulders shake as he cackled at your misfortune, turning to look at you with mirth in his eyes. The tragedy was far enough away from him that it didn’t bother him, but to you it was devastating.

“How could thou laugh in such a moment?” You asked, much more stressed than before.

“Now, now, Angel,” the Cardinal said, his tone still lighthearted but showing a sense of underlying warning, “you forget yourself.”

You sighed and pouted, looking down at the floor. “It doth grieve me sorely. Who would commit such a deed?”

“Christians.”

Your stomach dropped and you looked back up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

He nodded, “Christians. Well, there’s no proof but, Christianity was rising at the time, and they’d gone on a warpath, so to speak. And while there’s no proof they did it, doesn’t mean they didn’t do it. Christianity has done a lot to the human race since you left, and they’ve caused a lot of hurt and destruction, and now the people in the highest positions of power are using Christianity and Catholicism as a way to control the masses and exert their power, even today.

“They were particularly rowdy in the 4th and 5th Centuries, though,” he continued, “when the religion became more popular and spread amongst the people. Thousands of people died, mostly women, because the ‘pagan’ lives they lived were sinful and they needed to be stopped. A woman couldn’t be in control of her own body, feel her own sexuality. She must be oppressed.”

“Hypatia.” You muttered.

You remembered hearing about her death what felt like a short time ago, but according to the Cardinal, it happened over 1,000 years ago. Hypatia was the smartest woman of her time - a genius among men. It was sold to you in Heaven that a rogue group of His children stoned her to death for conspiracies against the Almighty, but you never learned the specifics. After all the questioning you’d done thus far, it dawned on you in that moment that maybe her death was unjustified just as your exile was from Heaven.

The Cardinal spoke again, “Jezebel, Venus, even Mary Magdalene.”

Your mouth widened. “Not Mary.”

“Yes, Mary. They look at her like a common whore, and not the wife of Jesus. They don’t revere her as she deserves.”

“This is not what the Almighty had ordained.”

The Cardinal shrugged. “Well, it’s what happened. That Bible you took from the library is riddled with vile hatred and disgust. Leviticus 18:22: ‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.’”

You furrowed your brow. “That seems amiss. The Almighty would never have decreed such a judgment.”

It was true, he never explicitly said anything of the sort. You knew firsthand that even Yeshua dabbled in… well… love in all its forms. Everyone knew, but no one talked about it. You found it difficult to believe that the Almighty would condemn his own son to Hell, just because he loved everyone equally.

“It was changed, do you know what from?” The Cardinal asked.

You shook your head.

“‘Man shall not lie with young boys as he does with women.’ It’s pretty interesting that Leviticus was changed like that when the clergy of the Church were starting to get reported on their inappropriate behaviour with children.”

A flash of recognition appeared in your eyes, and the Cardinal caught it.

“You know about that?” He had his full attention on you now, and you could feel the tension bubbling under the surface.

You swallowed, “I did so. And I did question the archangels. And now I am present in this place.” Answering honestly was the only way you felt like he wouldn’t hurt you. His gaze was steely and harsh, but softened a little when he heard your words.

“They kicked you out for it?”

You nodded. “It was the third occasion I dared to query the Almighty. They intended to cast me into the Abyss, hence I fled and stumbled into thy garden. And then thou…” you trailed off and caught the guilt that flooded the Cardinal’s face. You cleared your throat, “Thou didst subject me to all manner of torment, and at times I found myself yearning for the Abyss.”

“You never told me about this.” He said, quietly.

“Thou never inquired - thou was consumed with querying me regarding His designs and how to govern me. And, truth be told, I know not why I am disclosing this to thee now.”

“Well,” he sighed and stood, “you’re not out of the woods yet. So don’t go feeling comfortable.” And with that, he walked away.

There was a sadness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, and you found yourself wondering why it was there in the first place. Your stomach dropped at the realisation, though, that whatever torment you’d faced before, you’d face again. Would it be at the Cardinal’s hand? Would he be the one to administer the blows despite the kindness he’d shown you since he crossed that boundary? Or was it the Sister who wanted so desperately to hurt you? You couldn’t fathom that the Cardinal still hadn’t told her about his discovery. You knew that he’d even hidden the book from her, but you couldn’t understand why.

Your conversation with the Cardinal had left you feeling less than resolved about your position with the Almighty, and worse, with His children. Until now, you were sure His children were innocents in comparison to the clergymen who’d abused their station, but there was something gnawing away at you now that told you the rest of His children sounded just as bad as the ones in charge of His words. But, you didn’t know who could be trusted.

The Cardinal had stolen you, hurt you in unimaginable ways, imprisoned you inhumanely, drained you of your blood to the brink of death for his own enjoyment and consummation, and followed Lucifer, echoing his calls for the dark and becoming a mirror of Lucifer’s hatred for the Almighty. Perhaps he was mistaken? Lead astray by an evildoer with an ulterior motive. Perhaps he could be redeemed, and cured of his vampyrism? But why were you concerned with his soul when he’d done so much to you? His kindness wasn’t without reason - a person couldn’t change that quickly with no reason to. And you were sure he wasn’t trying to better himself on your account. And after Thomas…

But what if he was telling the truth? What if the Lord’s children were simply acting on the Creator’s wishes, doing what they’d been bidden just as you had? As though they weren’t in control of themselves just as you weren’t.

The scariest part was that you were beginning to see things from Lucifer’s perspective. You were starting to understand why he did what he did, falling so far from grace and establishing his own rules within the mortal realm, gaining more and more followers than he ever had just by merely existing. Thomas had told you the Satanic Church hadn’t needed to advertise in the same way the Catholics and Christians did - they just simply existed, and did so peacefully. It was the Christians who did all the advertising for them, and pushing their own people into Lucifer’s arms, and now you knew it was all the oppression they faced.

Those who followed in Yeshua’s footsteps, who loved unconditionally, as humans were programmed to do, were shunned from society, turned out onto the streets by their own families, subjected to torture to ‘cure’ them from a condition that never ailed them in the first place. And, in more extreme cases, they were imprisoned and executed for their ‘crimes’ and ‘indecency’, despite the fact that the son of the Lord they followed was hailed, praised and revered for the love he showed his brothers - and the people who surrounded him.

It was this revelation that helped you see the irony: the Satanists were more closely following the teachings of Yeshua than the Catholics and Christians were, who were the ones that held him in the highest regard. It was this revelation that made you see that if Yeshua were alive today, he’d have been killed or thrown out before he reached his thirtieth year; and it terrified you.

You sighed, your mind ached with the thoughts that were swirling around inside it. Your stomach churned with the notion that God’s creations were straying more and more into the path of evil than of righteousness, despite their hard work to get into the Kingdom of Heaven after they died. You felt woozy and weak, as though you were plagued with a sickness that incapacitated you. This existential spiral you found yourself falling into began because you learned your favourite library had burned to the ground, and perhaps at the hands of early Christians, and the Cardinal hadn’t even bothered to tell you why. You lay down on the floor, your wings cocooning you like they had when you were trapped in the cage, and curled in on yourself, trying to bring yourself a semblence of comfort despite your mind creating turmoil inside itself, the disappointment and shame eating away at you until you wondered if anything was left.

You slept; you didn’t know how long for, only that daylight was pouring into the room underneath the thick curtains when you woke, and you felt so, so cold. You stood and stretched, feeling a little off-kilter as you reached your full height. You stretched your wings out, too, trying desperately to shake the ache out of the muscles. They felt heavier than normal today. Angel wings were heavy given their size, practically spanning the entire length of your body and even dragging a little on the floor.

You wandered into the Cardinal’s room, silently staring at him as he slept; tucked up in his bed and barely visible beneath the sheets. You didn’t know why you came in, but you were there now. Your eyes roamed over the room and landed on the curtains. You could do it… you could open them and send him back down to his creator where he belonged. You could bathe the room in sunlight and watch him burn to death.

You didn’t think, you just walked over to the curtains and placed both of your hands on the fabric as it met in the middle. You looked over at him, his wrinkled face pressed up against the pillowcase as he slept peacefully, unaware that he was in mortal danger from his pet who’d finally worked herself up to bite back. You lifted the corner, and a trickle of sunlight poured into the room.

Do it.

Your arms froze.

Why are you hesitating? Do it!

It didn’t matter how much you tried to pull the curtains back and flood the room with the warmth of the sun, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to move at all, let alone even push the curtains back in their place.

“My Lord,” you said under your breath, “grant me Thy strength, that I may vanquish the wicked, cast him back into Hell where he rightfully belongs. Permit me to undertake this task for Thee, to repent, to atone for my transgressions, and to welcome me into Thy grace, where my true calling lies.”

You longed to feel His light envelop you and give you the strength to complete the task at hand, but it didn’t matter how much you prayed, how much of your energy you devoted to Him, He never answered your call. The part of you that still believed in His worthiness told yourself that this was your true punishment: to live with the monster who treated you like an animal despite the kindness that lay beneath the surface, the monster who hurt and betrayed you as if his life depended on it with no concept of your own thoughts, feelings and emotions until he took it a step too far out of his own comfort zone. A monster who did it once, and would willingly do it all again if his previous comment was to be taken seriously.

You’re not out of the woods yet. So don’t go feeling comfortable.

Those words echoed in your mind like the haunting melodies of the church hymns you’d sang to yourself while you were alone in the Cardinal’s apartments, sending shivers up and down your spine and instilling a low-lying sense of fear within your gut. You could end it all now, you should end it all now. You were born a killing machine for the Lord, so this was nothing new. And yet, the hesitation and the lack of movement felt too much to bear in your clouded mind, and before you knew it, you took a step back, letting go of the thick curtains and staring at your hands in disbelief.

The old you wouldn’t have hesitated. The old you would have sent him to the very pits of Hell and told yourself that justice was served. But how could there be justice when the judge ignored the case, and left the prosecution and defendant to rot in the courthouse together until a solution was reached outside of the law? The old you would have acted on her feelings, but the old you died when she fell from Heaven, and was kidnapped by a crazy vampyre with an angel blood addiction.

When the Cardinal woke, he found you sat in the armchair in front of your cage, eyes wide and distant. The chair had been turned to face the cage that held your halo in it, and your eyes were fixed on the part of your body that you’d not touched since your escape. You didn’t move, nor blink, nor acknowledge him when he spoke to you. You just stared with a vacant expression at the one part of you that you could see but not touch. No poking, prodding, or waving his hand in front of your eyes could get you to look at him, or snap out of your trance.

He stood back and thought for a moment, his own inner turmoil eating away at him. Though, you’d never see it. The half of him that listened to the Sister told him to just leave you be, that it didn’t matter if you were broken because maybe you’d be more useful. But he’d grown soft in the time he’d spent with you, and for some reason, it pained him to see you like this.

He stormed through his room, pulling open his bedside drawer and moving stacks of papers out of the way to get to Lorenzo Giovanni’s book, knowing that there would be something in there to explain what this was. He opened the spine and flicked through the pages, skim-reading bulks of text to try and find the information he needed. With each page he turned, and with each passage that he waded through, he began to lose his patience. How could something so crucial take so long to find? Surely it would have its own dedicated chapter?

Eventually, he found what he was looking for:

‘Angels who have been deprived of their halos for extended durations enter a frenzied state in a final endeavour to safeguard their lives. An angel bereft of their halo, with every passing moment, diminishes in their Holy Light. They need not eat nor drink like mere mortals, rather, Holy Light is what sustains an angel’s vitality and vigour. Although an angel may endure without their halo, they must replenish their Light regularly to prevent wasting away and perishing.

‘However, an angel possessing their halo is robust and can only be subdued by metal forged in the fires of Hell. The chamber in which I studied this was imbued with such material, from the nails in the floor to the very structure of the room. Yet, even as I restored the angel’s halo, I persisted in keeping them restrained, as a precaution to safeguard my life and my research. It effectively subdued the angel, allowing me to remove the halo once their Light had been replenished. Take heed, denizens of the nocturnal realm. My infernal assistant met his demise when he gazed into the angel’s eyes, for the brilliance of the Holy Light proved overpowering for one of such lowly station.’

The Cardinal thought back to that time when you’d asked him for your halo, and how he’d denied your request. At the time, he assumed that you were just hoping to get your halo back and make a run for it - he didn’t realise that you were losing your strength. He’d read this book a while ago, but hardly any of the information retained in his brain because… why would it? He never thought he’d meet an angel let alone capture one. Yet there you were, going manic in his chair because you were, in essence, on your last legs.

He grabbed some Hellfire chains and tied you to the chair as best as he could, trying to make absolutely sure that you weren’t going to escape, or worse, kill him. When he was prepared, he unlocked the cage that your halo sat in, noticing the light had dwindled significantly in comparison to when he first saw it all those nights ago, and once his gloves were securely in place, he carefully took it in his hands and brought it over to you. He didn’t know what to do because Giovanni didn’t say in his book… conveniently. So instead he just placed your halo on your head and took many steps back and hid behind his open door. He wasn’t a low-level Hell dweller by any stretch of the imagination, but he was sensitive to light, and wasn’t willing to risk death.

Nothing happened.

He peered round the wood to look at you and was about to leave his hiding spot when suddenly the room filled with a great, white light, so bright it had him hide behind the door immediately. Everything he owned was bathed within your holy light, so much so it felt like his eyes were an over-exposed camera taking outdoor shots. He could barely make out the grain details on the door in front of him, and it was only a few centimetres away from his nose.

He wasn’t sure if it was actual pain, or just his imagination playing tricks on him, but he could swear he felt his skin prickle at the brightness, a light burn as if he’d been stung by oil when cooking. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to avoid his retinas burning out of his eye sockets, not that he knew that would happen, but, for the first time in a very long time, he was scared. It wasn’t so much death that scared him, he’d died before. He remembered the way his body went numb as the vampyric venom engulfed his cells and shut every single unnecessary one down; the way his body convulsed as his blood heated and his stomach withered and blackened; the ache in his bones as his body weight drastically fluctuated from dead muscle to resuscitated, all within the hour.

He remembered how he watched the same thing happen to his mother.

No, it wasn’t death itself he was afraid of, more like the method in which he met his permanent end. He knew how dangerous angels could be to creatures of the night such as himself, how a single tear could burn through his skin like holy water did. Not to mention the weakness to light, holy light included. You were a killing machine, despite your protests, and there were a number of ways you could ensure his death, effortlessly in some cases. You terrified him, yet thrilled him. Like a charmer playing with a poisonous snake, like adrenaline junkies jumping from planes.

You were too weak when you first met to be considered a true threat - but now your Holy Light had returned… now you were a potential threat.

Everything felt different when you opened your eyes, blinking the light out of them. Your body was mended, bones strong and muscles sharp and ready to move at a moment’s notice. Your mind was clear… well, clearer than it had been. You felt whole, complete, normal.

You surveyed the room with newfound clarity, your vision unobstructed by the haze of weakness that had clouded your senses before. When you listened, you could hear things happening from kilometres away, you could hear the wind rustling through the trees outside as though you were standing directly beneath them. You could smell the food cooking in the kitchens below, despite them being nowhere near your room. You could even smell the honey that was created in the hives outside. The familiar tinkling of your halo distracted you, and you almost panicked when you looked to the cage to find your halo was missing, only to realise it was currently on your head.

You tried to fight against the chains, but the Hellfire burned with each movement, you had to stop.

The Cardinal cowered behind the door, his fear palpable in the air. It amused you, the contrast between his bravado and vulnerability now laid bare. You could smell him, taste the fear that bubbled up in his chest, hear his heart rhythmically pumping as the sweat began to form on his brow. It wasn’t until the entirety of your holy light had dissipated, you finally saw him poke his head around the edge of the door. His eyes were trained on your halo, and kept flickering between it and other parts of your body, wary of looking you in your eyes. This time, you weren’t stupid. This time you knew why he dodged your eyes, and knew it would be that way for a while until he felt safe enough to challenge you again. You felt powerful, yet you were entirely unable to do anything about it.

The Cardinal walked over to you and immediately removed your halo from your head, practically throwing it back into the cage. Not a single word was uttered and it didn’t need to be - but when the door to your own cage opened, you knew you would be in there for some time.

Days passed, and the Cardinal didn’t return home for the majority of them. Again, you didn’t know where he was, just that he was avoiding you for fear of his own life. The notion that he was scared sat well with you, to the point where you were almost content being caged.

Almost.

The amount of time you’d spent out of it, free and happy had allowed you to taste somewhat what you used to have. The anger that bubbled inside of you was terrifying, even for you. Each passing second simply added to your frustration, and your imprisonment served as a continual reminder of your powerlessness. You yearned to be free of the cage that held you, to unleash the full might of your divine strength on those who had harmed you. But try as you may, the Hellfire-forged bars remained solid, their scorching heat acting as a harsh barrier to any attempts at escape.

Despite your rage and fury, a spark of resolution flickered within you. You refused to give in to despair and accept your fate as imposed by others. No, you promised to recapture your independence, to break free from the chains that held you back and establish a new way ahead. And, while the Cardinal may have believed he ruled over or underestimated you, he would soon realise his grievous mistake. For you were more than simply an angel; you were a force to be reckoned with, a being of unrivalled strength and resilience. Especially now that you had your strength back.

As the Cardinal eventually entered the room, his demeanour revealed a sense of sheepishness that contrasted sharply with his normal confidence. His eyes darted anxiously about the room, avoiding direct contact with yours, as if he was afraid of what he may discover. Despite his best efforts to appear collected, he radiated an unmistakable air of unease.

You looked at him with a mixture of wonder and caution, unsure what to make of his unexpected return. You’d had plenty of time to stew in your wrath and resentment during your seclusion, and now that you were back in the Cardinal’s company, you were conflicted between a desire for vengeance and a cautious hope for peace.

The Cardinal cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet as he approached your cage. His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, betraying the inner turmoil that churned beneath his composed exterior. It was clear that he had something to say, yet finding the right words seemed to elude him.

After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability. “You can come out now.”

With a grateful nod, you acknowledged his gesture and took a step forward, loving the sudden freedom that engulfed you like a warm embrace. The air seemed crisper outside your prison, and you spread your wings, savouring the rush of freedom that ran through your veins.

As you stepped out of the cage, the weight of confinement lifted off your shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice the Cardinal’s refusal to meet your eyes. His avoidance of eye contact communicated volumes, exposing a vulnerability rarely seen in the powerful person before you. “Will thou not cast thine eyes upon me?”

He looked at you, if only briefly, before looking away again. “Sister Imperator wants to try the second ritual this week during the full moon.” He told you.

But as you returned your attention to the Cardinal, you couldn’t ignore the tension that hovered in the air between you. His comments concerning (who you assumed to be) the Sister’s plans for the next ceremony just added to the severity of the situation, reminding you of the dangerous balance that existed within the Satanic Church.

“I understand,” you said evenly, your tone laced with resignation. Despite your unwillingness to embrace the truth of your situation, you understood Sister Imperator’s intentions were not to be underestimated. The notion of another ceremony made you nervous, but you knew you had no choice but to comply with her requests. “Dost thou not desire it to come to pass?”

“I’ll need some more of your blood before the second ritual,” he said, closing the cage behind you and making a move, “but now that you’re fully healed, we have time.”

“What doth the second rite entail?”

He didn’t answer, another question he chose to dodge.

You sighed, “Would thou permit me to partake in at least one flight until then?”

“One. Tomorrow. But you take a few ghouls up with you to make sure you don’t escape.”

You nodded, reluctantly accepting the Cardinal’s requirements. Despite the constraints imposed on you, the idea of a single flight provided a ray of hope amid the oppressive confines of your imprisonment.

As the Cardinal exited the room, leaving you alone once more, you couldn’t help but feel a sensation of unease creeping along the borders of your consciousness. His elusive comments and hidden plans further added to your suspicions, leading you to wonder about the true nature of the second ceremony and your part in carrying it out.

In reality, you knew what the second ritual entailed, but you wanted him to tell you. It was the ritual of temptation. They would orchestrate scenarios designed to appeal to your desires and weaknesses, tempting you to stray from the path of righteousness. Through manipulation and deceit, they would slowly lead you down a darker path, enticing you with promises of power and gratification. But there was a part of you that wondered what they’d use to tempt you so much as to complete their goal. You didn’t want anything enough to be tempted. Except… your freedom.

Would they really gamble the possibility of letting you go free in order to get what they wanted? Quite possibly.

The next day arrived. The thought of flying dangled before you like a tantalising treasure, and you eagerly awaited the set hour, your excitement growing with each passing moment. When the time came, the Cardinal returned to his chambers with a retinue of ghouls waiting to accompany you on your little excursion.

You followed the Cardinal outside, the cold breeze caressing your feathers and rousing your soul’s need for freedom. A wave of unease passed over you as you readied yourself to take off and saw the Cardinal fastening another chain around your wrists. The weight of the metal seemed like an anchor, straining at your spirits and serving as a sharp reminder of the restrictions that still held you back, even in the middle of your newfound happiness.

“This is an extra precaution,” the Cardinal told you, “just in case.”

You scoffed, offended. “Thinkest thou I would soar without my halo?”

“This was the only way I could get Imperator to agree,” the Cardinal responded, his voice much more curt and annoyed, “take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” You huffed.

With a deep breath, you unfurled your wings and launched yourself into the air, relishing the sensation of weightlessness as you soared through the sky. For a blissful moment, you allowed yourself to forget the constraints of your captivity, losing yourself in the exhilarating freedom of flight. The world below stretched out before you, a vast tapestry of earth and sky unfolding in all directions. You barely noticed the two ghouls that flew alongside you, their enlarged bat wings flapping quickly to keep up with you.

With each tremendous beat of your wings, you felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, propelling you higher and higher into the limitless expanse of the sky. The weight of your worldly concerns vanished as you soared through the air, supported by the gentle currents that took you upward.

As you ascended, the earth below seemed to fade away, its wide expanse unfolding beneath you like a sprawling canvas painted in green and gold. The distant horizon beckoned with the promise of adventure, while the vast expanse of sky stretched out in front of you like a limitless playground, asking you to explore every corner.

As you danced among the clouds, you felt a sense of lightness flood over you, as if the essence of your being had been liberated from its earthly confines. Each inhalation filled your lungs with the crisp, clean air of the sky, giving you a renewed sense of vitality and purpose.

The landscape took on a dreamy character, your senses heightened by the pure exhilaration of freedom. The wind whispered sweet nothings in your ears as it danced through your feathers, while the sun showered your skin in golden light, filling you with warmth and contentment.

Beside you, the two ghouls flew with effortless grace, their bat-like wings beating in perfect harmony with your own. Together, you formed a symphony of motion, a testament to the boundless beauty and majesty of the natural world.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to forget the trials and tribulations that awaited you on the ground below, losing yourself in the timeless ecstasy of flight. In that moment, you were truly free, unbound by the constraints of your captivity, and liberated by the boundless expanse of the sky.

As you basked in the joy of flying, you couldn’t help but notice a slight but unsettling tremor in your wings. At first, you ignored it as a passing sensation, a blip in your otherwise immaculate performance. However, as you continued to soar into the sky, your shaking became more severe, causing your wings to waver and stutter with greater frequency.

It had been so long since you last flew, so long since you properly used your wings. And like most things in the human body, you either use it or lose it. You’d never gone this long without taking flight, didn’t know that your wings would become unused to the constant flapping and carrying your weight. You tried to push passed the feeling, tried to force your wings to get used to it.

However, with each wavering flutter of your wings, a flood of fear clutched your heart, threatening to shatter the illusion of freedom that had surrounded you. You battled to stay aloft, fighting the inevitable pull of gravity that threatened to bring you back down to earth.

For a little while, doubt entered your head, clouding your thoughts with uncertainty. Had you been too acclimated to the constraints of your imprisonment, too dependent on the security of solid earth beneath your feet? Was it only a matter of time before your feeble wings regained their power and resilience?

As you reluctantly chose to descend, a gnawing sense of unease gnawed at the borders of your awareness. Despite your best efforts to ignore your mounting anxiety, a foreboding sensation of dread hung over you like a suffocating blanket.

The trembling in your wings were more noticeable with each passing instant, sending waves of panic through your veins. You could feel the muscles in your wings spasm and cramp, a stinging pain piercing your body with each faltering beat.

Desperation clawed at your chest as you struggled to keep control, but it was a losing battle against the never-ending barrage of pain and tiredness. Tears of frustration clouded your eyes as you tried to maintain your altitude, turning your once elegant flight into a sloppy, unpredictable plummet.

In a heartbreaking moment of terror, you stretched out to the nearest ghoul, your shaking hand urgently searching for help. Despite your best efforts, your fingers fell short, gripping only empty air as you plunged to the ground below.

Time appeared to slow to a halt as you hurtled towards the ground, the wind blowing passed your ears in a deafening roar. In that quick instant, you felt tremendous sadness mixed with the sharp sting of failure, your mind casting back to the last time you fell so far, your body on fire and screaming as you were cast out of Heaven. You were reminded of the mob that chased you, the pain that covered you as you made contact with the ground, and the horrors that followed. You could feel your chest and throat vibrating - you must have been screaming, though you couldn’t hear that. Just the wind.

You crashed with the hard dirt with a terrible thud, sending a searing shock of pain through your body. The blow took the breath out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for oxygen as darkness threatened to devour you.

Through the veil of pain and disorientation, you could just hear the ghouls’ frantic yells as they hurried to your side, their voices reverberating in the back of your mind. But it was too late: the damage had been done, and you were left to face the brutal truth of your unsuccessful flight.

As the ghouls swiftly removed your damaged body from the ground, their hands soft yet forceful, you could feel the scorching heat of your tears scalding your cheeks, a bitter memory of the misery that had consumed your body. Each movement sent a spike of anguish through your limbs, an unrelenting assault that threatened to overpower your senses.

Your cries rang through the air, creating a terrible melody of anguish and sorrow that broke the silence of the surrounding environment. Sweat beaded your forehead along with tears, a sign of the severe mental and physical anguish you were going through.

In the chaos of the moment, none noticed as the tear landed upon the exposed skin of one of the ghouls, a faint sizzle accompanied by a sharp hiss of pain.

The ghoul recoiled in agony, clutching at the burned patch of skin where your tear had made contact. The area reddened and blistered almost instantly, the intense heat searing through flesh and leaving behind a trail of charred tissue. With a guttural cry, the injured ghoul let go of you and stumbled backward, his features contorted in pain beneath his mask as he struggled to compose himself.

The other ghouls looked at their injured friend with concern, their gaze bouncing between him and you as they tried to process what had just happened. The air became tight, filled with unsaid questions and anxiety as they exchanged uneasy glances, yet they still continued to drag you inside, this time making sure their skin was hidden beneath their clothes.

In the faint light of the Cardinal’s apartments, you lay on the cold stone floor, your body tortured with pain as your limbs gradually healed. Each passing instant felt like an eternity as you waited for the agony to end, a silent plea for relief that went unanswered.

And you were overcome with a sense of dread that covered you like a heavy blanket as you lay there in the strange silence of the chamber. The events of the day weighed heavily on your soul, putting a cloud of doubt over your future and forcing you to confront the brutal reality of your own weakness.

Prev./Next

[spilledstars1234]

Thanatophobia

I completed my new fic, which is a 24K oneshot! I worked on this for months. I haven't written a LC fic in a while, the last one being in November, so I'm really excited to share it! Press on the title if you're interested, and as always, thank you!

(also, the main reason for the fic's Mature rating is because there is self-harm, which may not be suitable for all audiences.)

Summary:

thanatophobia (n): an intense fear of losing someone you love, usually by death.

“Hey, Cheng Xiaoshi…” “Yeah?” “Can you… talk?” “Huh?” “Talk.” I know that this is a selfish request, but for once… I’m willing to be selfish. “Just… talk for me. Just this once.” Talk. I want your voice to drown out the endless horrifying thoughts of your death in my head. Please. Just this once.

or: Lu Guang's first dive back in time, and the events that unfold with it.

[keysorsomething]

Master list!

I think I finally have enough fics posted here (with more coming) so I've decided it's time I sort them all out into a master list Note: most of the headcanon page names aren't offical and are just descriptions to what they are symbols because this is getting messy (as of 8/8/24) Fics - ✤ Headcanons - ✦ Rambling pages - ➤

Request page !!

Call of Duty: Nikto:

✤ The Shape series: The Shape (11/7/23) (2) Easing Into it (11/10/23) (3) Into the Hyena's Den (11/16/23) (4) Before the Sun Rises/Caught (11/23/23) (5) Unprofessional (12/17/23) (6) Everyone Has a Reason to Stay (Primireniye) (1/19/24) (Final) Gun Run (2/23/24)

✤ Yainiathrope (4/8/24)

✦Kissing Nikto Headcanons (2/7/24) ✦Domestic Headcanons with Nikto (2/26/24) ✦Life with Nikto and Sputnik (6/23/24)

✤oooh that one fic people voted on

Rodion: ✦General + Random Romantic Rodion Headcanons (2/7/24) ✦Rodion dealing with his partner's period (2/13/24) ✦General + Random Romantic Rodion Headcanons 2 (2/10/24) ✦Rodion and Chubby!Reader (2/20/24) ✦Rodion in Florida and Floridian!reader in Russia (2/24/24) ✦Rodion Helping You Get Ready (3/28/24) ✦Jealous Rodion Headcanons (3/28/24) ✦Rodion and Tatoo Artist!reader headcanons (4/6/24)

✦ Rodion and Best Friend reader series: Being Rodion's best friend (4/28/24) Rodion falling for his best friend (5/24/24) Rodion and his best friend kissing for the first time after they start dating (6/19/24) ➤Uncle Rodion ramble (7/10/24)

Bale: ✦General + Random Romantic Bale Headcanons (2/7/24) ✦Other Bale Headcanons (6/29/24) Whole MW2019 Spetsnaz: ✦Reader at the Beach with the spetsnaz (platonic w/everyone) (4/18/24) ✦Spetsnaz with boney reader (6/19/24) ✦ Spetsnaz and reader at a theme park (7/10/24) ✦Spetsnaz with reader that finds all animals cute (9/25/24)

Valeria: ✦General + Rondom Romantic Valeria Headcanons (2/7/24)

Graves: ✦Graves/F!Russian reader (2/7/24) ✦Graves and a short partner (2/7/24)

Velikan: ✦General + Random Romantic Velikan Headcanons (2/8/24) Farah: ✦General Farah Headcanons with a mic of period comfort (2/20/24)

Five Nights at Freddy's: ✤ In the Eye of the Beholder (12/6/24) SCP: ��� Cujo and Laika (12/22/23)

✤ Sneak Peak :) (1/21/24)

✤ Redemption (And the concept of the “Russian Soul", as they pride themselves on) (2/5/24)

✤ Thanatophobia (2/16/24)

✤ Sweet Tea and Kvass (3/27/24) ✦Singular Clef headcanon posted as a joke (2/10/24) ✦Clef and Dmitri Headcanons because they mean obsurdly much to me (2/8/24)

➤My like 13 page breakdown of Clef and Dmitri (4/12/24)

Pathologic:

[msnihilist]

Ben 10 Fic Recs for Rare/Unusual Pairings

Note: some of these fics are E-rated. Read the tags. No crossovers. No BenRook, Gwevin, Bevin, Bwen, Benkai, or Benlie (unless in a polycule). All of the links are AO3 fics. Enjoy!

Ben Pairings

Ben/Albedo → Just Galvan Things & So Much More & Vile Urges & Nightmares Can Only Lead to Comfort & Rekindled Hatred & Trapped Together and Becoming Human & in nomine patri et fili spiritus sancti & Christmas And 3am Conversations

Ben/Argit → Argit Asks a Favor

Ben/Attea → good guy gone bad

Ben/Charmcaster → The Bad and The Worst & Magical Hands & Thanatophobia (Is what I feel for you) & Lovesick...but also genuinely sick & Shut Up and Kiss Me, Hero & Couple's Discount & We'll Meet Again & The Island Misadventures of Ben and Charmcaster

Ben/Eddie → Once Summer Ends

Ben/Elena → Lysis & The Redeem of The Swarm & Wanting vs Waiting & Time Lost

Ben/Ester → Faces

Ben/Eunice → A Very Eunisexual Christmas

Ben/Jennifer → Crossroads

Ben/Ken → Dropping In

Ben/Kenny → A Gift, From Thirty Years in the Future & New Day, Same Person & His Universe

Ben/Khyber → Distractions & Hunter and Prey & Not Yet

Ben/Looma → Conquered

Ben/Lord Transyl → La Petite Mort & Drifting off to a tempting sleep

Ben/Lucy → Future Sight

Ben/Malware → Hunger

Ben/Michael → Sorry, I wasn't born with a filter

Ben/Reiny → The Wedding & The Art of the Deal

Ben/Rojo → A Little Fun

Ben/Tetrax → Motivation

Ben/Vilgax → Sospes Sui & I'm Taking What's Mine and Your Time Has Come

Ben/Zs'Skayr → Ghost at the Bellwood Motel & One

Alternate Ben Pairings

Ben 23/Ben Prime → For You

Ben 23/Gwen 10 → Different Times

Ben 23/Rook Prime → All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For a Thing I Cannot Name

Mad Ben/Bad Ben → Hot Mess

Mad Ben/Ben Prime → An Unlikely 'Friend' In An Awkward Situation

Mad Ben/Mad Rook → Like That

Nega Ben/Nyancy Chan → Catnip and Smoothies

No Watch Ben/Ben Prime → Never Get Out of Your Head & Insanity & Unorthodox & Don't Tell Paradox & Nothing Lasts

No Watch Ben/Bad Ben → You Saved Me Even Though We're Enemies

For Other Characters, Click Here

[margo-mania]

It's so fucking cold I am in physical pain and my hands hurt to move fuck fibro fuck reynauds fuck my autism and sensory processing disorder for making me almost throw up every time I put on something that touches my neck fuck my adhd and thanatophobia for constantly reminding me of my own mortality fuck gender dysphoria and imposter syndrome for making me feel like shit fuck my flat feet for making me hurt to walk fuck the stairs I fell down that triggered my fibro to flare up and fuck my legs over and finally fuck pms for just being a general fucking cunt to deal with

I'm gonna Read the new chapter of one of my comfort fics and try to go to sleep love y'all

[mcytblrconfessions]

mcyt fanfiction (specifically dsmp) has re-characterized how i view fanfiction

when i was younger i used to think of fanfiction as entirely cringy smut that was disgusting, and while that's true for a good number of fics, there's also a plethora of actually well-written fics with character development and length to rival most novels out there and basically that's what has redefined my definition of fanfiction and gotten me back into writing - especially bonesandthebees, thanatophobia, and emiartse's writing, they read like an actual book and inspired me to put more effort into my own writing

[edenesth]

Hi! I hope it’s okay to ask but I’ve read all your Jongho fics and loved them 💕 and was wondering if you had any Jongho fic recommendations?

Hello, lovely!❣️

First of all, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed my Jongho fics, that means a lot! As for fic recommendations, I can't even lie😭 babes, I genuinely have not been doing much reading lately but will recommend my best friend's writing (pls do check them out!).

↪ Thanatophobia and Fallen by @itstheghostofmypast✨

Bonus: I have mentioned this on a few occasions but the one Jongho fic I absolutely adored and have reread quite a few times would have to be zemblanity by @/in-san-ity (but it does contain a bit of smut, so I do apologise if you were looking for something SFW🫶🏻)

[devil-in-hiding]

shipping Anyone with fr paul it simply has to be someone new in town + i think his whole problem is not like, thanatophobia and regret over clerical celibacy but geographic and philosophical insularity. sheriff hassan as an individual is so obviously also formed by experiences around death!! paul has given people last rites and funerals for decades but hasn't made peace with it, versus this still young!!! widower. agh

Omg yes but also, he has watched all of them grow up, it is only sensible that a young handsome widower with distinguished greys catches his eye. And he is so loving!! and hungry for knowledge, he would be so interested in hearing about Allah from Hassan, learning about their prayers

also one of my favorite moments from a fic called sacraments on ao3 is Riley telling Paul that if he stopped treating Riley like a lost sheep, they could be friends and i just !!! because J o h n has to realise he can’t meddle in their lives, he has to watch his alter boy be the man he is now, mistakes and all is the wonder of God’s gift of life, the good and the bad

[crashing-all-modes]

Update on Thanatophobia new chapter: I’ve written it all (WHOOP WHOOP), I’m gonna do a rewrite (to fix some janky wording) and then it’ll be good to go!! I’m also adding some fun… surprises for making y’all wait so long :)

So SOON YOULL GET NEW STUFF :)

[lolly-in-a-strange-land]

Welcome to my little corner of the internet. My name is lolly and I am weird & will continue to be weird. I write fanfics, or thinly veiled wish fulfillments.

My fics can be found on Wattpad, Ao3 and I have some one shots here. Current fics are:

Limerence [Josh Silver/OC]

Thanatophobia [Dave Mustaine/OC]

Colors in Autumn [Jason Newsted/OC]

The Forever Purge [Josh Silver/OC]

A Flight of Doves and Ravens [Danny Carey/OC]

Completed works include:

Meet me at midnight [Josh Silver/OC]

Halcyon [Dave Mustaine/OC]

Paper Hearts [Dave Mustaine/OC]

Give my fics a read and let me know what you think. Comments and votes are always appreciated. Please note, I don't take requests often, but I might do if you ask nicely. If you want a Josh Silver fic or a Dave Mustaine one then I might 😉

Banner by @1-800-shedevil

[temporary-enthusiasm]

For the AO3 wrapped ask: 3, 12, 29, please! 🤩

Thank you for the ask Leelany!! 💜 3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Okay, so I'm gonna cheat here and say it's a tie between Thanatophobia and No Such Thing As Supposed To.

Thanatophobia is the first fic I ever wrote (for any fandom, not just DBH!) so it's really special to me. I definitely didn't go into this game expecting that it would be the thing that would actually get me to write, but here I am, 19 fics later with absolutely no regrets.

No Such Thing As Supposed To is the longest fic that I've written on my own. I really thought that I'd only ever be able to write one shots but this idea that started in the Hankcon server grabbed me by the throat and was a ton of fun to write.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Only one right now, and it's for a winter exchange! But, I do have this bingo card I made for myself with some goals for 2024 (I'll include a blank version of the card under a cut in case anyone else wants to fill it out!)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Bold of you to assume I remember any of the lines I wrote this year 😂But okay, the first time I wrote Gavin I had a ton of fun, his voice was just so easy for me to grab, so here's a small passage from the first time I wrote him in (Non)Standard Deviation:

“Hello Detective.” Its voice was as crisp and polite as ever despite its disheveled appearance.  Hello Detective, it said, like it was perfectly fucking normal to show up at his apartment, like it happened all the time, like they were fucking friends. It took Gavin a moment to realize that he was still gaping and not actually verbalizing any of his thoughts.  “What the fuck are you doing here, you plastic prick?” He finally got out, the slur from the alcohol taking the bite out of his words.  “I didn’t know where else to go.” “You’ve been following Anderson around like a puppy all week; why the fuck aren’t you on his doorstep?” Connor’s LED went red and he shook his head, refusing to look Gavin in the eye.  “How the fuck did you get my address anyways?” Gavin asked when the android didn’t elaborate any further.  “I have the address of everyone at the DPD. Yours just happened to be the closest. ” Lucky fuckin’ me.   “Well, get the fuck in here then,” Gavin finally demanded. “I don’t want someone to see you standing outside my apartment in the middle of the goddamn night and start getting any ideas.” “Oh… do your neighbors not know that you’re gay, Detective?” 

| ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - Masterlist

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Commissioned by anonymous.

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

I ⛧ II ⛧ III ⛧ IV ⛧ V ⛧ VI ⛧ VII ⛧ VIII ⛧ IX ⛧ X

Commissions are closed.

Words: 67.7k.

Reading Time: 4 hours and 48 minutes.

Warnings: asshole!Copia,attempted execution, blood, blood drinking, blood extraction, blood syphoning/collecting,biting, body control, body horror,brief mentions of the past trauma the angel went through, including the harrassment and torture - but other than that chapter V is pretty chill, caging a living being,Catholic guilt, corruption kink,cum swap, cunnilingus, detailed aftermath of war, detailed deaths of children, detailed grief, detailed pain, divine voyeurism?, drunk!Copia,dry humping, face sitting, falling from heights, feelings of abandonment,fellatio, finger sucking, forced sexual activity,free use fantasy, frottage, gaslighting, graphic depictions of thanatophobia, graphic (yet brief) descent into madness, graphic injuries,irrelevant character death,masturbation, mentions of conversion therapy, mentions of death, mentions of death by sun exposure,mentions of experimentation on living things,mentions of fellatio, mentions of femicide, mentions of homophobia, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of stoning, mentions of rape, mild degradation, mild sexism, mild sexual harassment?? (there’s nothing inherently sexual about what he’s doing, but it is uncomfortable and I wanted to tag it just to be safe), near-death experiences, needles, nipple play, non-consensual rituals, non-consensual sexual activity, objectification, pillow humping, praise kink, protected sex, references to non-con, references to rape kink, references to somnophilia, religious disillusionment, religious trauma,restrained with ropes, rituals, self slut shaming, semi-public masturbation, sexual harassment,slut shaming, soul modification, spit as lube, suggestion of sexual assault (but nothing happens), taking advantage of innocence,this may be the horniest thing I’ve ever written, tied with ropes, torture, use of needles, use of the word “bitch” unkindly, vaginal sex, violence.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Copyright © 2024 by her-satanic-wiles

No bound copies, translations, or other derivative works of this publication may be created or distributed without express permission from the author, for monetary gain or public use.

[spilledstars1234]

a post for any Link Clickers in need of a fic to read ^^

Hey there fellow link clickers! (i love our fandom name, haha!) I'm currently writing a LC fic, yet also dealing with a bout of insanely annoying writer's block that goes on and off and is slightly driving me crazy - (see this post) - so that's fun, haha! It's probably gonna end up taking me a good while to finish T-T.

BUT!

If anyone here wants to put a grin on this sleep-deprived writer's face or if you want to throw some serotonin my way, I occasionally write Link Click one-shots in my free time: check out my ao3 here.

My most recent Link Click fic, "Thanatophobia," is perhaps one of the longest fics I have on ao3. I actually posted this fic over a month ago to ao3 hehe. I think it turned out pretty good, so if you want to check it out and leave some comments or kudos, that would make my day.

But I'm honestly so proud of that fic so I'm just gonna self-promote it down here haha,

so feel free to check out some of these fun links below! ^^

Thanatophobia (Link Click one-shot, word count: 24,878)

Distorted Shadows (Link Click one-shot, 4,347 words)