#only took me OVER A YEAR but finally. finally I have drawn that beautiful woman

[river-of-wine]

My dear Arthur

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Claimed by the Devil

Small Creatures, Chapter 1

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When the well-known vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen saves you from disaster, you realize he might mean more to you than you thought.

warnings: swearing, Matt Murdock’s self-destructive tendencies, mentions of a cult and subsequent trauma, allusions to drowning

a/n: This is it, y’all! A Matt Murdock soulmate AU as requested by that poll a few weeks ago. A HUGE shoutout to @zomtart for helping me plan this AU!! I am so excited to share this new verse with you, I really hope you like it! As always, please let me know what you think by replying and reblogging! This chapter takes place about a month before the beginning of Daredevil S2.

w/c: 4.1k

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable through love.” Carl Sagan

Since the creation of man, each soul was created with another. Two, sometimes more, mirrored fractions of a whole, destined to forge a bond. Particles of a spiritual atom, drawn to each other by invisible forces, finally satisfied through connection. Soulmates. Each body marked with a symbol, to help them find their other half. Sometimes a word or a shape, a small clue to start their journey.

For a while, that journey was short. It would still take time, of course, to meet your soulmate, to fall in love—but it took less than one lifetime, while the world was still small, the human race still growing.

After a few generations, and centuries of invention, the population began to travel. Groups of people living on all 6 continents, developing new cultures, traditions, languages. As they moved, the average distance between bound pairs grew. It became less common to ever meet your match. Humanity found love in other places, built families on opposite sides of the globe, living their entire existence without their intended.

With each non-bound couple, came children without bonds. Scientists have puzzled over the phenomenon for years, some drawing the conclusion that our biology began to reject the bond, to continue without it as if it was a recessive gene. Through countless wars and plagues, and the continued spread of humanity, finding your soulmate was almost an impossibility.

And then the pendulum swung back. Wars became fewer, food more prevalent, medicine more exact. Lifespans were stretched and, with the help of machines, it was easier than ever to find your soulmate. The damage of an era without them began to repair itself.

Within 5 generations, chances of forming a true bond soared from one in one-thousand to one in thirty.

A sharp vibration from your laptop interrupted the voice in your head. Glancing at the bubble that flashed across your screen, you rolled your eyes at the message. It was the seventh—yes, SEVENTH—in a string of emails from the same haughty woman demanding the pictures of her great aunt's 90th birthday party.

The party was beautiful, and the photos reflected that, but it had been less than 48 hours since the event. Every contract you signed gave you a window of 5-7 business days to edit the photos, more time depending on the length of the shot list you were given and the number of pictures they wanted. If this woman wanted professional, edited photos, she needed to give you a damn break.

Clicking on the small white cross in the corner of the pop-up, you huffed out a small laugh, imagining the fuming woman growing redder in the face when you didn't answer her at 4:02 on a Sunday afternoon. Setting your own hours, as well as being able to ignore frustrating clients during your down time, were just two of the perks of running your own photography business. The flexible schedule and lack of strict routine were a welcomed change after your upbringing in a highly controlled community.

While you did understand why experts used that terminology, you were much more content calling your “community” what it was: a cult. “High control group”—or whatever other politically-correct, secular terminology people wanted to use to describe a bunch of adults deciding to use their limited power to exploit others in the name of some bogus goal—was too polite for the assholes from your hometown. The bumfuck rural town where “religious” leaders congregated to torture dozens of children over a tiny, immovable mark on their skin.

A brand of the devil. That’s what they claimed soulmarks were. The sign of a being destined for evil. And, in order to save humanity from said evil, it was up to this specific community to cleanse you of your threatening aura, to rid the demonic energy from your body and spare your soul.

They’d used written and verbal propaganda, forbid outside contact, relied heavily on fear-mongering—the whole nine yards of brainwashing, all to supposedly grant the town salvation. Given that your particular mark was on the inside of your right wrist? Well, it definitely didn’t help the “damned” accusations coming your way.

Something flashed across your mind. A memory. Tepid water, turning frigid as you were forced deeper and deeper. All traces of oxygen slowly draining from your lungs, your body struggling desperately against the hands gripping you forcefully by the arms, holding you under.

Shuddering with discontent, your mark itched fiercely, as if it was trying to snap you out of the flashback. Absentmindedly dragging a nail over it to quell the unpleasant sensation, you inhaled deeply, studying the image as you did.

It was a simple thing, a series of a few lines just over the pulse point on your forearm. Two triangles, placed horizontally and pointing away from each other, with three small straight lines fanning out beneath. From your limited knowledge, it was a rune of some sort, though you hadn’t been able to narrow down the origin or meaning quite yet. Not scary enough to warrant the actions taken by your wonderful hometown though.

After surviving, and escaping, your upbringing, a lack of a rigid schedule was a necessity—which meant freelance event photography was a perfect career path. Unfortunately, an anxious mind and spontaneity didn't always mix.

It didn't matter that you didn't hear the messaging daily anymore. You were still struggling to unravel the mind games and indoctrination you'd been subjected to, hence the re-reading of this particular article. It wasn't the most informative, and the author clearly had a fully-realized bond herself, but it was the first piece of literature you'd ever read that wasn't propaganda.

There was a historical explanation for the disappearance of your condition, as well as a documented existence of others like you. Your mark didn't make you evil—it meant you were loved.

You re-read the blurb on days like today. Days where your conscience buzzed with apprehension, adrenaline flowing freely despite the lack of danger. There was something in the air around you. A warning, illustrated by the tiniest changes in your environment. On days like these, you felt like a bug beneath a descending shoe, scrambling to understand what was coming so you could make it out alive.

Expecting a disaster was illogical, you knew that. But reason wasn't the driving force in your brain on the anxious days. It was your desperate need to survive, to be prepared. On your bad days, your eyes flew open like you'd heard the door come crashing in or felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol against your temple—your body readying for a fight before you were even fully conscious.

Those days, your heart hammered in your chest, battering your ribs until they ached. Your lungs constricted when your blood pressure rose, each breath coming as a pant as you struggled to inhale enough oxygen. One wrong move and you'd send yourself spiraling into a full anxiety attack. Hopefully, you'd at least be able to stave that off over the last hour of daylight today.

Chewing at the edge of your thumbnail, you aimlessly scrolled through the page again, blowing out a terse sigh. The biggest annoyance when it came to your anxiety was that each experience was unique. There wasn't a universal solution. Sometimes, staying at home where it was familiar and safe was all you needed to settle your nerves. Other times, the constancy only made you more jittery.

As much as you'd wished that a sedentary day would slow your pulse and ease your breathing, that clearly was not in the cards.

Time for Plan B.

Growling almost inaudibly, you resisted the urge to start pulling your hair out strand by strand. Working up the energy to get through the door was always the hard part. As exhibited by your professional side, freedom to roam and choose your own path was vital. Despite your nervous brain trying to deny it, leaving your place to wander on a small adventure would be good for you in the long run.

When you'd escaped the clutches of the nutjobs running your old neighborhood, you'd made a promise to yourself–try at least one new thing every week. It seemed childish, but you'd missed out on so many things when under the control of the Order, you wanted to make up for that. Pretty quickly, it became clear that you thrived on flexibility and exploration.

So you kept up with it. Made a list of things in case you ever ran out of inspiration or couldn't decide what to choose next. That line of scribbles in a worn notebook came in handy on days where you disappeared into yourself, where you lacked the excitement that normally accompanied your little outings. Allowing the intense reluctance in your gut to churn, you reached for the leatherbound pages, sliding the book from where it lay on the coffee table and into your lap. Heaving out a breath, despite your protesting lungs, you thumbed through the paper, letting the smell of ink and coffee-stained parchment wash over you.

You weren't looking for something big. And the idea had to be plausible, there would be no mountain climbing or language learning in a single evening. Trailing a finger to the side of the dried ink, you skimmed each bullet point, eyes lingering on a particularly messy string of words.

“Golden Skyline Ink 48”

Thankfully, the gibberish you'd immortalized was recent enough that you could decipher it. Sunset photos of the skyline from the Ink 48 Hotel. You'd swung by the prestigious building for a meeting with a potential client, but you'd been too busy to snap a decent shot from the roof before your next errand of the day.

Pondering for a minute, you decided to go with your hesitant gut instinct. You craned your neck, hunting down your camera bag as you rolled your shoulder to unravel the tension balled up in them. Shoving up from your horizontal position on the couch, you closed your laptop and shuffled towards the door. Hefting the bag into your arms, you strode down the entryway.

Your hand reached for the doorknob at a snail's pace, halting mere inches from it as if the brass had a forcefield around it. ”You can do this.“ You muttered to yourself, forcing your fingers past the barrier and around the knob.

Stepping through the door, you flinched at the bright fluorescence of the hallway lights, hissing slightly like a vampire seeing the sun in a cheesy TV show. Swallowing the flash of pain in your head as the lights continued to beam down, you took another step. Here goes nothing.

Matt was grateful for the new body armor. He was, really.

He just wished Melvin’s talents included making the damn thing breathable. He’d never admit that, of course. On the spectrum of pain he lived with, being a bit overheated was closer to the bearable end. It wasn’t a stab wound or a broken bone, it wouldn’t impede his patrolling. If he could work through a punctured lung, he could handle a little sweating.

But when the nights got quiet and slow, it was more difficult to keep his mind from latching on to the discomfort–blown out of proportion by his fickle senses.

Sitting atop an apartment building on 55th Street, Matt could feel pure thermal energy bubbling up from the concrete beneath his feet. The waves of heat collided with his shoes, seeping into the rubber soles and blanketing his skin. Around him, the short ledge wrapping around the roof refracted more warmth, sending the sweltering air to smack directly into him.

He wasn't a fan of the heat, never had been, but the thick, skin-tight suit he was wearing only exacerbated the issue. Sweat beaded in the paper-thin gap between his skin and the fabric surrounding it, suctioning it impossibly closer to his body. Grinding his teeth in aggravation, Matt prowled to the edge of the roof, leaping off and rolling to deflect the impact from shattering any of his limbs. With a quick jump, he was back on his feet, taking off towards the next building in the line.

If he patrolled towards the Hudson and back around, he could escape the worst of the heat without neglecting his duty to the city.

Not that there was much action these days. The past handful of weeks, his outings in the suit had been unusually unproductive. It wasn’t that he was missing out on fights–it’s that they didn’t exist. Gangs were staying holed up, petty crime had taken a dive, even the steady drug or arms traders like Turk had gone radio silent. As much as Matt wanted to believe that his time as Daredevil had made a lasting impact on the city he loved so dearly, a current of doubt continued to whirl beneath his skin.

Crime was more likely in the summer, that was an inevitability. Increased temperatures shortened people’s fuses. Spats with loved ones were more likely to turn violent, miscellaneous expenses are more likely to add up and cause financial distress, it was statistically probable that he’d have busier nights leading up to the fall. And yet, here he was, twiddling his glove-clad thumbs while metaphorical tumbleweeds were swept down the streets.

He was confident something had changed, but he hadn’t quite determined what. So, despite the lack of problems he felt the need to solve, he continued to remain out until all hours, ears straining to pick up a scream or the explosive pop of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

Body on high alert, he ambled towards the piers, vaulting from roof to roof in a familiar trajectory while his brain fought off an incoming onslaught of guilt at the notion of staying out. Foggy would be furious tomorrow, when he saw Matt gulping down the cheap coffee from their machine–which was held together by masking tape and sheer luck these days. Matt had foolishly admitted his conundrum to his business partner, remarking that the city had been eerily still lately, that there was less of a need for him. That he’d been searching so urgently for justification that he’d been going out before dusk.

The idea that Matt’s nighttime activity was no longer an absolute necessity had upset the tenuous understanding the pair had reached over said activity. A simple slip of his tongue and Matt was on the receiving end of Foggy’s chastising, being told he should take advantage of the lull and “get some goddamned rest for once”. (Foggy’s words, not his own.) The renewed argument had become such a frequent topic of discussion that Karen had almost been clued in a few times when Matt’s frustration had narrowed his senses. Just that morning, he and Foggy had been going at it when she’d arrived at the office, surprising both of them with her bright greeting and intrigued glance.

Hurling himself to the next rooftop, Matt huffed out an aggravated breath, clenching his fists as his muscles tightened with irritation, his friend’s desperate pleas echoing in his head.

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“You’re hurting yourself for nothing.”

“The city will be fine without you.”

That last one stung the most, ripping open an invisible wound he’d crudely stitched after taking down Fisk. His work had helped people. His infamous alter ego was the final straw in the case against the organized criminal, imperative to his arrest. To the people of this city, Daredevil mattered–which meant Matt Murdock mattered.

If he boxed up the suit…

No. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t–

The shuffle of a shoe on concrete caught his attention, snapping him out of his downward spiral. His chest trembled as he panted in and out, his shallow breaths deepening as he focused in the direction of the noise. He wasn’t alone.

Mouth parting as his atypical radar closed in, his nose scrunched with slight confusion, brow furrowing with concern. There was a person perched on the brick ledge–a woman, balancing on her tiptoes and facing the city. She hadn’t noticed him, her pulse far too slow. Her hands held something blocky, the plastic object dragging along her skin as she positioned it, arms outstretched over the nearly 20 story drop to the pavement below.

He bit back an incredulous scoff as she bent further towards her death, practically rolling his eyes to the heavens as he approached. Not only was this position begging for disaster to strike, she had one headphone in, her lips moving as if mouthing along to the lyrics. She heaved in a dramatic exhale.

“Let’s try this again,” She murmured, finger slotting into a divot on an edge of the thing in her grasp, prompting a series of mechanical clicks to burst from it. Shutter sounds. A camera. A camera? You were risking your life for a photo?

Before he could judge you too harshly, your mouth twitched and your heart rate jumped. You’d realized he was there, then.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” He quipped, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk as you squeaked indignantly.

It was only amusing for a moment.

As you whirled to face him, apparently surprised that he was there, you lost your footing, tumbling backward off the ledge.

For what it was worth, your little adventure had been going pretty well before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen almost killed you.

There weren’t too many people out tonight, probably because it was disgustingly hot, so you’d made good time–jogging the few blocks to the hotel and sneaking into the elevator with a young couple who were too busy being at each other’s throats to care that you slipped in. The roof was vacant and more perfect than you could’ve dreamed. Swathed in the lights of nearby skyscrapers, you were presented with a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at sunset, the stark red-orange hue of the sky peeking between towering steel.

Once you’d attached the proper lenses, you began snapping photos, but you couldn’t get the exposure to set correctly. To capture a good picture at this time of evening, you needed the settings to be just so. It was a tedious, attention-consuming process, that, when combined with the soft music blasting from your lone earbud, had prohibited you from hearing someone approach…until he spoke.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” His growl was low, but contained traces of a humor you weren’t expecting.

Damn your anxious self for startling so easily. With a tiny squeal, you slipped from the ledge, your careful posture crumbling as you fell. Your heart lodged in your throat, air rushing into your ears as you began to descend, but before you could even scream, a pair of warm hands grasped you firmly by the arm.

Face jerking up, your eyes locked onto the masked vigilante’s snarl of exertion as he hauled you over the cement shelf and onto stable ground.

Breathing shakily, still in his grip, your face went slack with a nauseating combination of shock and relief. “Th-thank you.”

He let out a puff of a laugh. “You’re welcome. That was a close call. Do I need to call a hotline?”

His lips twitched with a smirk, his face clearly displaying humor despite his eyes being covered by a mask. Head tilted cockily, he seemed to be studying you, maybe evaluating whether you should be in a psych ward.

Shaking your head furiously, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed away from your savior. “No, I’m good, that wasn’t the plan. I just–”

As you began to retract himself from his hold, his thumb brushed over your forearm, tracing the faintest line over your exposed soulmark. When his fingertip made contact with the lines over your wrist, the world exploded.

When you were a small child, you’d electrocuted yourself when unplugging a lamp. It was an act of rebellion against your parents when they had demanded you clean up after compulsory bible study. The inflicted shock had careened through your entire body, feeling as though you’d been dipped in boiling water and then flash-frozen as your body tried to adapt to the new current. An abrupt change of temperature, the suddenness uncomfortable but the aftermath numbingly calm.

Touching the Devil felt like that.

Your mark glowed with warmth like embers in a dying fire. The hair along your arm stood on end, your heart nearly bursting with energy as you were clobbered with a realization.

“You..you’re my–” You whispered, taking a step closer to the vigilante.

His hand had clasped around your wrist, holding it delicately, chin dipping towards his chest. His breaths were labored, his complexion seeming to grow more pale as he ran a calloused finger over the mark again.

“I don’t–” Dropping your arm as if it had burned him, Daredevil’s face settled into an angry mask as he hurriedly stepped away from you. “I have to go.”

“W-what?” You stammered, running your hands over your arms as your body recovered from his touch, goosebumps undulating beneath your palms. “But we–”

“It’s late. You should get home before it’s too dark.” He responded tersely, turning away from you. Striding across the roof, his hand landed on top of the short stack of bricks, head turning over his shoulder with a sorrowful pout. “I’m sorry.”

Gracefully jumping over the side, he was gone.

Feeling dumbfounded and slightly defeated, you stared after him for a minute before shouldering your bag and beelining for the fire escape.

Karen stretched her arms over her head, groaning softly as the knot of tension between her shoulders unfurled. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she jiggled the mouse on the desk before her, turning her laptop back on to try and appear busy. After the law firm of Nelson and Murdock put Wilson Fisk behind bars, the clientele began to pour in–though whether that was for their proven representation skills or their shitty but functional AC, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, there had been a steady stream of walk-ins this week. And now that it had finally slowed down, she felt almost disappointed.

Being a secretary at the tiny little office was one of the most interesting things she’d ever done. Each case presented completely new realities, new opportunities and challenges. It was like she was given the chance to start fresh every day, and she was grateful for it. But in moments like these where the people filed out of the crooked doors, it made her a bit antsy.

Foggy and Matt were buried in new evidence for a guardianship revocation, holed up in Matt’s office, leaving her to schedule their appointments. She sighed, contemplating whether or not to interrupt them, to ask for something to do. Depending on when the guys would be heading out, they might want dinner or more coffee…

As she was running through a list of takeout that all of them could stomach, that hadn’t been ordered too recently, her phone’s display lit up, a new message appearing on the lock screen. An anonymous message in a chat board she frequented–one dedicated to opinions about Hell’s Kitchen’s hero, Daredevil. 

When she joined the board, she was solely intending to be a spectator. Unfortunately, the internet made it easier for trolls to share their bullshit opinions. Call the vigilante a threat to justice. Say that he should be put down. There was only so much she could handle before her blood boiled over and she sent her responses. 

These days, she was a pretty active poster. She rarely received private messages though, so the notification set her on edge. 

Hesitantly tapping the glowing bubble, she held her breath as it opened. No context, no identifying information, just two bizarre sentences that she was not prepared for.

“I know this is strange but..I think Daredevil might be my soulmate? And I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase

[fan-goddess]

The Hindered Battle of the Burning Mill

Gif credit goes entirely to @seaside-storm

Authors Note: I fucking love these two they have insnared me body mind and soul. Romeo and Juliet? Never heard of them!

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: mentions of stuff like threesomes and heavily implied homosexual loving between these two men. (If I miss any let me know!)

House Blackwood and House Bracken had been fighting for so many years that it is truly unknown as to what they truly began to fight over.

So when news broke out for the two houses and how they sided with each others rival Targaryen in the war of the dragons, everyone held their breathes as they knew it was but a matter of time until the two houses took the opportunity to feud with each other again.

Their blood boiled as it was said how the quick to temper Davos Blackwood marched over and claimed loudly how the stones dividing the Blackwood and Brackens land had been moved, to which the newly knighted Aeron Bracken attempted to claim as untrue. Swords were drawn as the two stared each other down, and it was said all who watched held their breaths as they were sure blood of both houses were about to be spilled.

Yet that however was before a young maiden no older than either of the enemy houses boys walked calmly up to the both of them, and forcing them to halt where they stood. As while they were bloodthirsty brutes on the battlefield, they knew better than to endanger the life of an innocent woman attempting to make wrongs right.

It was said the two were captivated at first sight of her. Her beauty and warm smile being the only things stopping the two sworn enemies from spilling each others blood.

Her true identity is unknown, but given her plain clothing and how she led the two boys to a nearby house, it is believed that she was some lucky commonborn gifted with such beauty from the gods that she was able to ensnare not just one high born heir but two.

The men who had originally accompanied young Davos and Aeron followed the three to the home claiming it to be due to them protecting their lord. But all saw through their lies and knew what really went through those young mens heads when they watched the pretty young woman lead their lords away by their wrists.

They wanted to hear the fucking. Or more precisely, they wanted to hear the sounds of the maiden.

Only they didn’t need to be awkwardly standing outside the homes walls to hear it. Those from all around heard the sounds of pleasure bleed from that house from the former maiden and the two men alike.

The companions of the two boys all assumed that by the hour both Davos and Aeron would be finished with the woman and go about their day back to hating each other more heated than the fire of a dragons breath. Only it was at least until daylight had long since bled into night did the noises at least stop.

The companions, after waiting for the leaders for what felt like hours, were about to abandon their men and drag their boots home. It was not till close to the hour of the eel when the companions were three steps away did the two men finally emerge from the home. The woman did not appear at the door to bid them both farewell, so it is decided she must have given them both a unique goodbye present from the comfort of her bed, as proven so by the distinct heavy blush practically smeared on both men’s cheeks.

The two men did not speak to each other after that day, nor any day afterwards, and it is unclear as to why this was. It’s thought something must’ve happened between that woman’s bedsheets to make them behave so pitifully against each other, and the most favoured idea as insisted upon by mushroom for this to be written down, is that the two must’ve had some sort of special interaction whilst being observed by the woman. As according to the man it was well known how both Davos and Aeron would look at each other when riling the other.

The two men though years later went on to marry women of other houses and produce plentiful of children to inherit their fortune and titles.

That woman, who now in history is known as the maiden who stopped what would’ve been known as the battle of the burning mill, her future is unknown as she was never seen again from that day she took Davos Blackwood and Aeron Bracken to her home.

It is said how both men each attempted to go back to the home to see the woman, but each time they went in she was never there, for the house now looked abandoned and old as if there had never been anyone residing there in the first place.

Hearing this, many have claimed the young woman to be a witch sent by the gods only for the purpose of stopping those two young men from starting yet another feud fuelled by exterior forces, but there is no such proof or at least none worthy enough of mentioning in this text.

The tale of the maiden who stopped the battle of the burning mill shall forever remain one of the many mysteries of Westeros.

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝑅𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝐼𝒫𝒮 𝒜𝐿𝒲𝒜𝒴𝒮 𝐿𝐼𝐸-𝒟𝑅𝐸𝒲 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒦𝐸𝒴

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 ����𝕗 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Drew Starkey meets a mysterious woman in a jazz club, drawn to her allure. Drew realizes her red lips symbolized deception, but the encounter has left a lasting impression.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

The velvet curtains of the dimly lit jazz club parted, and in she walked, her figure silhouetted by the neon sign outside. The rustle of her crimson dress echoed through the room as Drew Starkey's eyes snapped to the entrance, unable to tear his gaze from the vision before him. She was a picture of ethereal beauty, with a Lana Del Rey aura that filled the space with an intoxicating allure. Her dark hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, a stark contrast to the vibrant red fabric that clung to her curves like a lover's embrace.

The club buzzed with hushed whispers and the clinking of ice against crystal, but it was her that held Drew's undivided attention. He was no stranger to the spotlight, having spent years navigating the tumultuous world of Hollywood, but this woman, this mysterious creature, had captured him in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He took a sip of his whiskey, the amber liquid doing little to soothe the sudden dryness in his mouth as she made her way to the bar, her hips swaying to the rhythm of the saxophone solo.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, his voice low and gruff, as if the very air had thickened with anticipation. She leaned over the counter, the light from the pendant lamp above casting a warm glow on her porcelain skin. "A dry martini, two olives," she replied, her voice smoky and sweet, like the notes of a vintage record.

Drew took another sip of his drink, watching as she took a seat at the edge of the bar, her red dress pooling around her like a bloom in a sea of black and gray. She looked out of place yet perfectly at home among the shadows and the whispers of the nocturnal denizens. Her eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on the stage where a sultry jazz singer crooned into a microphone, the words of a lost love echoing through the air.

Feeling a sudden urge to bridge the gap between them, Drew pushed back his chair and made his way over. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, flashing a smile that had charmed a hundred movie sets. She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his with a cool curiosity that sent a shiver down his spine. "I suppose not," she said, her full lips curling into a knowing smile.

He took a seat beside her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, to catch the faint scent of gardenias and cinnamon that clung to her hair. They exchanged pleasantries, their conversation as smooth as the jazz that surrounded them, each note and syllable dancing around the undeniable tension that thrummed in the air. Her eyes never left his, and he found himself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a gaze that seemed to hold secrets and stories he longed to unravel.

The night grew darker, the music grew louder, and the whiskey grew smoother. Yet, it was her voice that became the sweetest melody to his ears. They talked of movies and music, of heartbreak and hope, each sharing fragments of their souls without ever revealing their names. The air grew thick with the promise of something more, something that could only be found in the shadows of a night like this.

As the last note of the final song hung in the air, she stood, her dress shimmering like a drop of blood in the moonlight. "Dance with me," she whispered, extending a hand delicately adorned with rings that sparkled like stars. Drew's heart skipped a beat as he took her hand, her skin warm and soft against his. They moved to the rhythm of their unspoken desires, bodies pressed close, breath mingling with the scent of desire.

In that moment, Drew knew that this encounter was more than just a fleeting dalliance. The red dress, the sultry jazz club, the whiskey soaked air, it was all a perfect scene from a film noir, and she was the leading lady he hadn't even known he was searching for.

Their dance was slow and deliberate, a tango of passion and yearning that seemed to transcend the confines of the crowded room. The world outside the jazz club faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a haze of music and longing. Drew could feel the pulse of the bass in his chest, mirroring the erratic rhythm of his heart as it raced closer to hers.

Her hand slid up his arm, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his sleeve, sending electric currents through his body. He pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that had been separated for too long. The heat of her breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine as she whispered sweet nothings that meant everything.

As the music reached its crescendo, she leaned in, her crimson lips a tantalizing inch from his own. Drew's breath hitched in anticipation, his eyes searching hers for permission. She granted it with a nod so subtle, it was almost imperceptible, and he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both fiery and tender. It was a kiss that spoke of a thousand unspoken promises, of a connection that ran deeper than the darkest melodies that filled the room.

The applause of the audience brought them back to reality, their cheers a jolting reminder of the world outside their bubble. They pulled apart, both panting slightly, their eyes locked in a silent agreement that this was only the beginning of a story that needed to be written.

With the last sip of his whiskey, Drew stood, placing the empty glass on the bar with a gentle clink. He offered her his hand once more, a silent question hanging in the air. She took it without hesitation, her grip firm and sure. Together, they moved through the crowd, the crimson dress leaving a trail of whispers in their wake.

The night was theirs to conquer, and Drew knew that the script of his life had just taken an unexpected yet exhilarating twist. As they stepped into the cool embrace of the city night, the neon lights painting patterns on the damp pavement, he felt a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

Their laughter mingled with the distant sound of sirens, the occasional honk of a car, and the ever-present murmur of the city that never sleeps. He had no idea where the night would take them, but he knew that he didn't want it to end. With each step, they were writing their own narrative, a love story that could rival any of the scripts he'd ever read.

And as they disappeared into the shadows, the jazz club's door swinging shut behind them, it was clear that the magic of the evening had only just begun. The whispers of their names would linger in the air, a testament to a connection that was destined to burn as bright as the neon lights that painted the backdrop of their shared secrets and passion.

The city streets were a canvas of possibilities, each alley and streetlight whispering of a new scene for their impromptu film. They stumbled upon a quiet rooftop, accessed by a hidden staircase that seemed to call out to them like a siren's song. The cool breeze played with her hair as she looked out over the sprawling skyline, the reflection of the city's glow shimmering in her eyes.

"Do you come here often?" Drew asked, his voice low and gentle, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the club they'd just left. She turned to him, a secretive smile playing on her lips. "Only when I need to escape," she replied, her eyes never leaving the horizon.

They talked for hours, sharing whispers of dreams and fears, the weight of their unspoken confessions as palpable as the city's hum beneath their feet. The conversation flowed like a river, meandering through the contours of their hearts, revealing hidden depths and unexplored territories.

Their bodies found solace in each other's embrace, the soft fabric of her dress giving way to the roughness of his shirt. They kissed with a fervor that spoke of lifetimes compressed into moments, their hands exploring the terrains of skin and soul. It was a dance of discovery, a silent symphony of touch that transcended the need for words.

In the quiet sanctity of Drew's hotel room, the crimson dress lay discarded on the floor, a symbol of the barriers that had been torn away. Their limbs intertwined on the large, unmade bed, the silk sheets tangling around them like lovers' vines. The passion that had been building between them all night erupted like a volcano, fiery and uncontrollable. It was a night of unbridled desire, of whispers that turned into moans and touches that turned into caresses.

Fast forward to the next morning, the room bathed in the soft glow of dawn. Drew stirred, his eyes slowly opening to find the space beside him vacant. The crimson dress was gone, along with the mysterious woman who had worn it so tantalizingly the night before. Only the faint scent of gardenias and cinnamon lingered in the air, a ghostly reminder of their heated encounter.

He sat up, the sheets slipping off his bare chest, and searched the room for any clue as to her identity. There was nothing but the lingering echo of her laughter and the memory of her red lips that had painted him with sweet, seductive lies. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, a plot twist he hadn't seen coming. Red lips always lie, and she had been no exception.

The emptiness of the room was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside him. He felt both elated from the passionate night and hollow from her sudden disappearance. Yet, as he lay back down, the pillow still warm from her head, he couldn't help but smile. The enigma of her was as captivating as the night they had shared, leaving him with a hunger for more.

Drew knew that he would likely never see her again, that she was a character that had stepped off the pages of a noir novel and into his life for one unforgettable evening. But the ache in his chest was a reminder that even fleeting moments can leave an indelible mark. He reached for his phone, the screen illuminating the darkened room with a cold, blue light. With a sigh, he scrolled through his contacts, searching for someone to call, someone to share his secret with. But he knew that this was a story that would remain just that, a secret shared only between the shadows and the city's neon glow.

The sun began to rise, casting a soft light through the curtains and painting the hotel room in shades of pink and gold. As he stared at the ceiling, the words of a song played on repeat in his mind, "Your red lips, red lips, red lips always lie." He knew that the truth was as fleeting as the night had been, but the taste of her kiss was a memory that would linger on his lips for a long, long time.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 49

Things change in Jackson but the most important things stay the same. The final chapter of Lavender, found in its entirety on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut! No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 7.3k

Sunday, October, 4, 2026

“Hey Joel!” Suzanne, a woman who worked at the clinic with you, ran up to him as he made his way home after an overnight patrol. “Do you know where Doc is?” 

“Think all my girls are at home,” he frowned a little. “Not sure, haven’t been there yet since gettin’ back but I’m heading there now��� Everything OK?” 

“Think we’ve got an appendicitis,” she winced as she said it. “If she’s home, can you send her our way? Save me the trouble of going to look at your place.” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Joel said. “I’ll see if I can track her down if she’s not there but it’s Sylvie’s nap time so can’t imagine she’d go far…” 

Suzanne smiled gratefully and ran back into the clinic, her ponytail swinging. 

Joel was eager to get home to you under any circumstance but even more so after doing an overnight patrol. He’d been away from you too long. He never slept well on patrol, never slept well if he was somewhere he couldn’t touch you, feel you breathing next to him. Whenever he got back, he usually spent five minutes just holding onto you, centering himself on you and the feeling of you in his arms again. But now you’d be running out the door right away. Even though he knew appendectomies were relatively easy and that you’d only be gone a few hours at the most, it was hard to not be a little frustrated by it. 

“Hey Love,” you smiled when he came in, stretched out on the couch with a ribbon tied like a headband in your hair and his daughter asleep on your chest. “Didn’t want to risk moving her, both of your kids have been in rare form today…” 

Sylvie, now 18 months old, shifted ever so slightly on her mother’s chest, her little features drawn in for a second - as if to prove a point - before relaxing. Her hair was getting long, her thick, dark curls a clone of her father. Her eyes were, too, when they were open. Joel knew them well. It seemed like he’d done nothing but stare at her for months after she was born, the combination of you and him something too beautiful to look away from. 

It sometimes felt to Joel that there was some part of the universe that always wanted your child to exist. You got pregnant so fast. He couldn’t be sure but the timing of the day at the lake made sense, like the only thing stopping the creation of you and him together was the power of modern medicine. The moment there was nothing preventing it she sprang into being, all but inevitable. 

Joel was surprised at just how much he loved seeing you pregnant. It hadn’t been something that he’d ever considered before now, not something he’d ever been drawn to before now. But looking at you, knowing you were growing his child, knowing your body was changing because of him somehow made you even more beautiful. 

Lucky for him, your hormones made you practically insatiable - not that you’d ever had a low sex drive. But it went from sex most nights to sex every night, often twice, and once again in the morning if you woke up with enough time before needing to get yourselves or Ellie out the door. He loved finding new places on you to touch and hold, loved kissing your stomach over where you were growing his daughter, loved holding your swollen breasts as he sank into your tight heat from behind, always cumming deep inside you because it’s not like he could make you any more pregnant. 

It took everything he had in him to not try to get you pregnant again. You’d told him, flat out, no. The pregnancy hadn’t been rough but it hadn’t been easy, either. You were tired but had a hard time sleeping, sensitive to all kinds of sights and smells, throwing up more days than you didn’t. It was easier, you said, than your first pregnancy, the one that was lost. But you were 20 years older now, everything was harder on your body now than it was then and the last thing he wanted to do was cause you any pain. 

But seeing you be a mother to his children had a tight hold on him. Every time he was inside you he had to fight the urge to plant himself deep, resist the drive to give you another child of his to grow and raise with him. Logic didn’t matter when he was inside of you, all that mattered was you and the primal need to give you as much of him as you would take. 

“Both of ‘em, huh?” He asked, coming over and pressing a deep kiss to your forehead and stroking your hair before sitting on the edge of the coffee table. 

“Yup,” you smiled a little. “Sylvie has not been on board with eating anything but she’s been crying half the day because she’s hungry. Ellie got home about an hour ago and didn’t say a word before stomping upstairs. So yes, your daughters have been in a mood today.” 

“Why are they my daughters when they’re actin’ up?” He asked, gently resting a hand on Sylvie’s back, feeling her little chest rise and fall with her sleepy breaths. 

“Because that’s when they take after you most,” you smirked a little. “When they’re angels who have never done a damn thing wrong, they’re mine.” 

He laughed once and went to scoop Sylvie off your chest and getting to his feet. You frowned. 

“I’ve got this little troublemaker since she’s apparently mine today,” he said, his youngest daughter stirring and scrunching her face as she yawned, her plump lips immediately falling into a pout. She buried her face into Joel’s neck with a little whine. “And I’ll go up and check on the other one. They need you at the clinic, appendicitis.”

“In that case, I leave you to be the outnumbered one,” you said, getting up and stretching out your back as you did. Joel took a second to admire you, the added thickness to your hips and legs and softness to your stomach and fullness to your breasts after carrying his daughter somehow making you even more lovely. Before, he didn’t think you could get anymore beautiful. Of course you’d find a way to prove him wrong. You reached up to kiss him, smiling against his lips before brushing Sylvie’s hair back. “Think you can behave yourself for your father since I’m sure he’s tired and hungry after a long day out patrolling?” 

She groaned and pushed her little face into his shoulder. He laughed. 

“Not like I haven’t dealt with moody girls before,” he said. His heart, he found, hurt less when he thought of Sarah now. The fact that she wasn’t there was still something that was missing. An emptiness and an ache of loss where he knew there should only be fullness and light. But he saw so much of her in Ellie and Sylvie and you. It made it so he could think about her, remember her, without it consuming him. He could miss her and remember her without suffering her loss. “I’ve got this Baby, go save a life.” 

You kissed his daughter’s chubby little hand and gave his arm a squeeze before leaving. He looked at Sylvie, her face still in his shoulder. 

“Alright Baby Girl,” he said. “We’re gonna try puttin’ you down for 10 minutes so I can talk to your sister, let’s see how that goes…” 

He carried her upstairs and set her gently in her crib. She stretched and yawned and pouted, her eyes closed - lashes so long they were splayed across her plump cheek - until Joel tucked a rag doll Ellie’d made her into her little grasp. She tugged it against herself and settled a bit and Joel all but tiptoed out of her room and down the hall to Ellie’s. He knocked gently on the door. 

“What.” Her voice was sharp. 

“It’s me,” he said. “Wonderin’ if you wanted to talk about somethin’.” 

“No.” 

He waited a second. 

“Can I come in?” He asked. 

“Your house.” 

He sighed. Why were teenagers so hard? He opened the door slowly and found her curled up on the bed, her eyes red and her arms crossed, her back to the mural. 

“What’s goin’ on, Baby Girl?” He asked gently, coming and sitting beside her on the bed. 

“I said I didn’t want to talk,” she snapped. “And I really don’t want to talk with you.” 

“Well, I’m who ya got,” he shrugged. “So I’d like it if you did. Want to help you if I can.” 

“You can’t help,” she glared at him. “You’ve done plenty.” 

“Wish you’d tell me what you mean,” he frowned. “I’m at a loss here, Baby Girl.” 

She sat up, crossing her legs and looking him in the eye. 

“There’d be a cure right now if it wasn’t for you, wouldn’t there.” She didn’t ask it, she said it. A statement of fact. Joel’s stomach dropped. 

“Where’d you get that idea?” He asked. 

“That’s not an answer, Joel. Would there be a cure if it wasn’t for you?” 

He sighed. 

“Let’s talk about this when your mother…” 

“No,” she shook her head. “No, she’s not my mom and you’re not my dad. You’re just some assholes who took away the one chance I had to make a fucking difference!” 

That hurt, more than he’d have thought it would. It’s not like Ellie called you Mom and him Dad but it felt like she thought of him the way he thought of her. You’d both tried to help her see how important she was, how much she mattered, what a difference she made to the people around her every day. It hadn’t seemed to stick.

“This about Lucas?” He asked softly. She glared at him but he took that for a yes. 

Her friend, Lucas, had been killed out on patrol a month earlier. Ripped apart by infected. It was tragic, the first loss on patrol in years. Lucas had been competent and likely kept the carnage from being worse, holding off a hoard long enough to get his patrol partners out alive.  Ellie had been distant and sullen a lot since then. 

You’d talked to Joel about it and the both of you figured she was mourning the loss of her friend. Neither of you thought it would be something like this. 

“Baby Girl,” he said gently. “Why don’t we talk about this when Doc gets home? You can ask us whatever you want, we’ll answer you. OK?” 

“Why, want to wait to get your stories straight?” She snapped. 

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said. “We’ll tell you whatever you want. But she needs to be here for it, too. Not right for it to just be you’n me, OK?” 

“Fine,” she snapped, curling up again. Sylvie started fussing in her room. He sighed and she just looked at him. “Go, I’m not allowed to talk to you until Doc’s here, anyway.” 

He fought the urge to fight her on it and went and picked up his youngest daughter, instead.

You’d been right about Sylvie. She wasn’t in the mood for eating anything but kept giving her hungry cry, wailing too much to actually form words, instead toddling around inconsolably. Eventually, he broke into a jar of canned peaches and handed her a sticky slice, the syrupy juice from the jar dripping down her hands. She chewed it, hiccuping, her tear-streaked little face calming. 

“You just wanted sugar,” he shook his head, smiling a little. “Should’ve known.” 

He found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes, waiting for time to pass, waiting for you to get home. For the first time, he was almost dreading it. Because the conversation with Ellie had the potential to ruin everything. He wouldn’t know how to fix it if she hated him for it. Wouldn’t know what to do if she decided to leave because of it. You’d tried to tell him that you had to explain it when it happened but he’d convinced you to do what he thought was the right thing to do. He’d convinced you to all but lie. 

If Ellie left because of it, would you leave, too? To stay with her? She would know it was Joel who wanted to hide it, she was anything but stupid. If she levied an ultimatum, would you leave him and take Sylvie with you? Would he deserve it if you did? 

All things considered, you weren’t gone long, home well before you’d either start cooking or head over to the mess hall for dinner. He met you at the door, Sylvie on his hip. 

“Hey,” you smiled, making your eyes go extra wide to get a little giggle out of your daughter. “She looks happier, I’m guessing you got her to eat something?” 

“Broke into some of the canned peaches,” he said as you put your arms around him and Sylvie, stretching up for a kiss. 

“Well if it works,” you said before you frowned. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong…” 

“Ellie wants to talk,” he said, holding you a little closer. “About Salt Lake City.” 

You winced. 

“Shit,” you dropped your forehead to his chest and took a deep breath. “Well, we knew it was coming eventually. Think Tommy can take Sylvie for the night so we can hash this all out and make sure we’re focused on Ellie?” 

“Good plan,” he kissed the crown of your head and gave you a squeeze, some of his anxieties eased. You were here. Somehow, it was going to be OK. 

Tommy, thankfully, was fine to take Sylvie and didn’t ask many questions after he saw the look on Joel’s face. Instead, he took his niece inside to play with Jake, his son, and Joel came home to find you and Ellie on the couch. You’d made tea and Ellie was rapping her fingers against the side of her chipped mug. She narrowed her eyes at Joel when he came in, her small body tucked into the corner of the couch, her legs crossed in front of her. Joel sat in the arm chair near your end of the couch. He couldn’t settle back into it. Instead, he sat on the edge of it, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“OK Baby Girl,” he sighed, looking at her. “What do you want to know.” 

“What happened?” She asked, staring him down. “With the Fireflies. What actually happened. You’ve never told me the truth about it but I need to know now. I can’t keep living with you fucking lying to me about it!” 

“OK,” you said gently. “It’s OK…” 

“No, it’s not OK,” she snapped. “And I’m tired of pretending like it is!” 

“They were gonna kill you, Baby Girl,” Joel said, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest. 

“What?” Her eyes were a little wide. “No, Marlene said…” 

“Marlene lied,” you said, your voice sharper than Joel was used to hearing. “Their doctor was purposely vague with me because he knew I wouldn’t go along with his plan…” 

“What was the plan?” Ellie asked. “What did they need that would kill me?” 

“Your brain,” Joel said. It hurt him to even think about it, to think back to those horrific minutes where he wasn’t sure if he’d get to her in time, where he thought he might have lost her forever. “They needed the Cordyceps that have been in you since you were born and they grow inside your brain…” 

“You should have let them!” She cut him off, her eyes wide and teary. “Why would you stop them?” 

“Ellie…” he began but she smacked her mug down on the coffee table with a loud thud. 

“This was my one chance!” She looked between the two of you. “I could have actually done something! Been something, made a difference! My life would have mattered!” 

“Your life matters just the way it is,” you said, tears in your eyes. “Ellie, you and Sylvie are the most important things in the world to us, nothing could matter more than you…” 

“What about every other person in the fucking world?” She demanded. “What about…”

“The science was flawed,” you cut her off. “You were the only sample, to even test it would have killed you. Do you know how rarely something works right the first time in science? Basically never. Do you know how many combinations of things I had to try before my treatment worked in testing? Thousands, Ellie. They were going to kill you on the off chance he had it right and then when it didn’t work, what would be the point? That you got to die a noble death? That we lost you for nothing? 

“I had notes from the treatment I developed and he wanted to wait to try anything with it until after he took the cordyceps from you,” you pressed on. “He could have said stop. He could have decided to exhaust every other option first and he didn’t. He was convinced he was right and that’s not a good way to conduct science, I couldn’t trust him to do this right. The other option wasn’t for you to save the world Ellie, not really. Yes, maybe it would have gotten there eventually but it was so far from a certain thing.” 

“But…” she protested. 

“You’re not a parent,” Joel said gently. “But would you have let them kill me or her for that? Or Sylvie? Would you have let them kill your little sister for somethin’ like that?” 

Ellie just stared at her lap. 

“So what happened?” She asked, her voice thick. “You said the place was attacked but it wasn’t, was it?” 

Joel looked at you and you reached out your hand for him. He took it, holding onto you for dear life. 

“They weren’t goin’ to listen, Baby Girl,” he said. “I did what I had to do to keep you safe.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“And that’s how Doc got shot,” she stated it again. “They were trying to protect themselves from you.” 

“Yeah,” he said, your hand still tight in his own.

“How many people?” She asked quietly, looking up at the two of you. “How many people died there?” 

He clenched his jaw for a moment before he was able to meet her eyes. 

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I… I was so focused on gettin’ you out, I just did whatever I had to do.” 

“So you killed all those people,” she said. “Brought me here… and Doc, you just gave up? You never tried to do anything with all that shit you did? You just let people keep turning?” 

“Ellie…” you went to reach for her but she flinched back. 

“I can’t…” she shook her head. “I need to think… I’m going to stay with Dina for a bit.” 

She got up and Joel did, too. 

“Baby Girl,” he said but she shook her head. 

“Lucas might still be alive if she’d just done something,” Ellie shook her head. “But she didn’t. Neither one of you did. And it’s all fucking because of me.” 

She left and you were staring at the spot on the couch where she’d been. 

“Baby,” he said cautiously. He didn’t like the look on your face. “I’ll go after her…” 

“No,” you shook your head and wiped your eyes. “No, let her go. She deserves some space from me.” 

You got up and went for the stairs. 

“Baby…” 

“I’m going to shower,” you said. 

He watched you go, wishing he could find some way to fix it. 

*** 

Tuesday, May 11, 2027 

“Don’t like this,” Joel stood next to you, holding Sylvie, frowning. “It’s too dangerous…” 

“I’ll be fine,” you put your palm in the middle of his chest and kissed him. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

He pulled you tight against him, his lips in your hair. 

“Mama,” Sylvie grabbed your braid. “Can I go on the horsie?” 

You smiled and brushed your daughter’s hair back. She looked so much like her father it made your heart ache. 

“Not this time, Baby Girl,” you smiled. “But soon. Promise.” 

“You ready?” Tommy rode up along side your horse. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you gave him a tight smile before kissing Sylvie one more time and giving Joel a longing look. “I’ll be back soon. I will.” 

“You’re not back by Labor Day I’ll come get you back,” he said, voice dark. “Make sure they fuckin’ know it.” 

He kissed your forehead and you mounted your horse, heading with Tommy outside Jackson. 

The day after Ellie left was your birthday and it was the worst it had been in years. You stayed in bed most of the day, Joel just holding you. 

“She’s right,” you said as the sun went down, your husband’s fingers tracing up and down your arm. “I should have done something with it, I’ve just been letting people die by not doing something with it…” 

Joel tried to talk you out of it but you were determined then. You pulled Tommy aside and talked him into tracking down old Firefly contacts he had, seeing if he could find Dr. Anderson. After making some carefully placed radio calls over a span of months - much to Maria’s chagrin - he found him, at a hospital in Boise. 

“You’re not goin’,” Joel paced your kitchen, his arms crossed. “I don’t give a shit if you can save everyone on the goddamn planet, you’re not goin’.” 

“Yes, I am,” you said, sitting at the table, voice calm. “I respect your opinion but you don’t get to make this decision for me.” 

“What if somethin’ happens to you?” He asked, stopping in front of you. “You’re talkin’ about meetin’ up with a bunch of fuckin’ terrorists who already damn near killed you…” 

“They need what’s in my head,” you said. “They won’t kill me.” 

He knelt in front of you, almost the exact place he’d been when he’d proposed years earlier, and took your face in his hands, holding you gently. 

“I can’t do this without you, Baby,” he said, his deep brown eyes soft and scared. “Don’t ask me to try’n live without you, I don’t want it…” 

“I can’t live with myself if I don’t try,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Please, Joel. I have to do this. I have to.” 

He made it obvious that he wasn’t a fan of the idea but he agreed to it, staying behind to take care of Sylvie and keep an eye on Ellie, who had started coming around again, more to see Joel than anything else. You hadn’t told her you were leaving or why. You didn’t want to get her hopes up in case something fell through or have her feel responsible for you choosing to go if something happened to you out there. But you left a note to her, Sylvie and Joel, just in case you didn’t make it home. Just to be safe. 

“Been a while since just you’n me got into trouble,” Tommy said as the gates closed behind you. “Should be fun.” 

“Whatever you say, Tommy the Commie,” you smirked. 

“Jesus,” he sighed. “Been how long and you’re still on that? Gotta get a new schtick, Kid.” 

You laughed. At least you got to go on this damned trip with one of your best friends.

The ride to Boise was uneventful and you made it in just five days. The Fireflies were about as happy to see you as you were to see them, holding the two of you at gunpoint as you rode up to the city. Tommy looked about as happy about it as Joel would be. 

“Dr. Miller,” Dr. Anderson said when you came to the hospital, giving you a stiff nod. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d see you again.” 

“Feeling’s mutual,” you said, standing up as straight as you could, jaw squared. “You tried to kill my daughter.” 

“And you kept me from saving the world for mine,” he said. “So I think we’re even.” 

The two of you struck up an uneasy working relationship, Tommy hovering like a body guard for the first week you were there but apparently trusting the Fireflies enough to not kill you for at least a few hours at a time. 

You’d brought some vials of Ellie’s blood with you, taken by one of the nurses at the clinic under the guise of running a few standard tests when she was sick with the flu weeks before. It took some time, but you were able to narrow down what you thought at least stopped the progression of cordyceps in her, even if it wouldn’t go as far as making someone immune. By late July, you’d developed an emergency injectable you thought would work to halt the progress of the cordyceps. Dr. Anderson distributed it to the Fireflies who were most likely to encounter infected. Then, it was a waiting game. 

It took three weeks to discover that it worked. A patrol was overwhelmed by infected and one man was bitten. They used the injectable at the bite and the spread stopped. He was rushed back to you and Dr. Anderson, where the two of you carefully extracted the cordyceps from his arm. 

“It’s not a cure,” you said after the man had been monitored for four days with no sign of infection. “But we can stop new infections.” 

“That’s a whole hell of a lot,” he nodded. “We can synthesize it, spread it. It’ll take a while but it’s a start. A start to getting our world back.” 

You were excited, of course. Thrilled that your idea had worked, that you’d been able to help begin to stop the suffering caused by infected. But mostly, you wanted to get home. You missed Joel, you missed Sylvie, you missed Ellie. You missed your life with them. You and Tommy left for Jackson the next day. 

The ride back to Jackson felt longer than the ride to Boise. Maybe it was because you were so ready to get home and because your husband and daughters felt so close but so far. By the time you got back, you all but jumped off your horse at the stables and ran home. 

“Joel?” You called as you pulled open the front door. You heard something clatter to the sink in the kitchen and he appeared in the doorway. 

“Baby,” he ran and grabbed you, clutching you close to him, almost knocking the air out of you. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried, I’ve missed you so much…” 

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears as he held you to him, kissing every part of you he could reach. 

“I missed you,” you held onto him, your fingers in his hair. “But we did it, Joel. We made something that can stop infection…” 

“I’m so proud of you,” he pulled back from you enough that he could kiss you. “But I care much more about you bein’ back than anything about infected…” 

You laughed at that. He went and got Sylvie from her seat in the kitchen, where she’d been coloring. 

“Mama!” She started squirming when she saw you, stretching and reaching. 

“Hi Baby Girl!” You took her from her father and tried to keep from crying. She was bigger now than you remembered, her hair longer. You held her to you and breathed her in, Joel pulling you both against him. 

“They didn’t have…” Ellie said, coming in the front door. You twisted to see her and you heard something clatter to the floor. “Mom!” 

She hurled herself at you, holding onto you tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” she was crying. “I didn’t…” 

“No, Baby Girl,” you wrapped the arm not holding Sylvie around her and kissed her temple. “You were right, I should have done something with this so much sooner…” 

“I’m just so glad you’re back,” she said, burying her face in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that shit, I’m so sorry…” 

“Just keep calling me Mom and you can say just about anything else you want,” you said, voice wet. She laughed. “I love you, Ellie. So much.”

“Love you, too.” 

October 5, 2029

The first time you heard a plane overhead, you instinctively ducked. The last time you’d heard that sound was the day of the outbreak, almost 25 years earlier, and a plane had almost come down on your head. 

You were walking home from the clinic and you ran the rest of the way to your house. 

“Joel!” You yelled the second you were in the door, but you didn’t have to go far to find him. He was sitting on the floor of your living room, playing with Sylvie. 

“Baby?” He frowned, a doll in his large hands as Sylvie held the bottle and sat on his lap. “What’s goin’ on, everything OK?” 

“There was a plane,” you said, breathless, eyes wide. “Overhead, outside. There’s a plane.” 

“A plane?” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure?” 

“Damn sure,” you said and then you laughed a little. “People are flying again. There was a fucking plane.” 

That was when you got your idea. It was probably a damned stupid idea but it was an idea. 

Maria and the rest of the council had been getting regular updates from the outside world since the drug had started being distributed. Things were changing, quickly. 

Now that traveling was safer, people started moving a bit more freely. Caravans started first, then train lines opened. It didn’t take long for FEDRA to fall and be replaced with a government more closely resembling the former United States. 

Now that there were planes running again, you imagined that meant things were stabilizing. And if things were stable - if people could travel across the country - maybe you could do the one thing you’d wanted to do since coming to Jackson: See if Andrew and Jess would join you. 

You missed them and Elizabeth and Jonah fiercely. They were still young enough that they could have a childhood here, that they could learn and grow and lead something close to a normal life here. 

Talking Maria and the council into it had been surprisingly simple. Jess’ psychology training would be a boon, adding more children to the community was welcome. And you got the impression that, after five years of treating the people here at the clinic, they wanted to do something for you. There was a train line that ran to Salt Lake City from Boston, and you radioed Andrew for the first time in almost five years. 

“Holy shit!” He said when Abe got him and put him on the line. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again, I have so much to tell you…” 

“I have a lot to tell you, too,” you said, trying not to cry at the sound of his voice. “But I wanted to ask… How attached are you and Jess to Boston? Feel like hopping on a train west and starting over? I promise, where I live? It’s worth it.” 

They came out a few months later and you were there, back in Salt Lake City with Joel and extra horses, meeting them. It was the second time you’d been reunited with someone you loved on your birthday. 

You recognized Elizabeth immediately as she jumped out of the carriage first, even though she was far taller now than she had been the last time you saw her. You had to stop yourself from crying. Jonah was next, then Jess, then Andrew. 

“Hey!” You started running for them. Andrew saw you then, dropping his pack and running for you, the two of you slamming into each other so hard you were sure Joel heard the thud. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said as you clung to him. “Holy shit I missed you…” 

“I missed you, too,” you said, choked up. “So much has happened and I kept wanting to tell you fucking everything and I couldn’t and it sucked!” 

“Me too,” he laughed. “Me too.” 

It took you five days to make it back to Jackson, giving you plenty of time to catch up. Things got worse in Boston after you left. FEDRA’s grip tightened, life becoming more and more locked down. Andrew and Jess did everything they could for their children, trying to give them a normal life but there was only so much they could really do for them. They’d been looking for a place to go when you’d radioed. 

Andrew wasn’t shocked that you and Joel had ended up together. He was a little more surprised that you’d had a baby, though. 

“I’m so happy for you,” he said, looking a little teary. “You deserve it. You have for so long but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” 

The house behind yours in Jackson was open and they moved in there. After giving them a few days to settle in, you invited them over for dinner and game night with the kids. There were so many people, your kitchen table had never seemed quite so small. You loved it. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said, hugging Andrew goodbye as his family left for the short walk back home. 

“Me too,” he said. “The codependency squad is back in the same place and all is right with the world.” 

You laughed and the two of you watched as Lizzy twirled with Sylvie on your back deck, Ellie playing guitar perched on the steps, Jonah watching her, enraptured. Joel put his arm around your shoulders and you leaned your head against him as Jess slipped her hand into her husband’s. 

“See you around?” He asked. 

“Don’t think you’ve got another choice,” you smiled. 

Sylvie went down easy that night, worn out from playing with her newfound cousins. You could still hear the quiet chords as Ellie practiced guitar in her room.

“Night Ellie,” you called as you went to close your bedroom door. “Don’t stay up too late, guitar down soon.” 

“I’ll take it easy,” she called back. “Night Mom, night Dad.” 

“Can’t say I ever thought I’d be hosting a game night for anyone,” Joel said as you both climbed in bed and turned out the light. 

You laughed. 

“Me either,” you said. “Crazy what five years can do.” 

You snuggled up against him and he put his arm around you, kissing your cheek, working his way down to your jaw and then to your mouth. 

“What do you think you’re doing there, Mr. Miller?” You teased, your arm going around his waist. He was softer and thicker there now, but you liked it. A sign of the fact that he wasn’t struggling anymore, proof that he was still here to grow old with you, raise your daughters with you. 

“Gettin’ my hopes up, Mrs. Miller,” he said, voice low as his hand slipped below your tank top and found your breast, holding you gently, his thumb brushing your nipple. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down,” you smiled against his mouth and he pressed you closer. 

You hooked a leg over his hip and ground your aching core against his already hard length. It didn’t seem to matter that you were 50 years old now, that you’d first slept with him almost 30 years before, that he was there in your bed every night, you always seemed to want him and he always seemed to want you. 

He slipped the straps of your tank top down and off, tugging the fabric to the top of your shorts before kissing down your throat to your bare chest. He kissed along the curve of you there, his lips and tongue and teeth brushing along the tender flesh until he sucked your nipple into his mouth and moaned around you, teasing you with his tongue. You groaned and instinctively rocked your hips against nothing, already desperate and needy for him. He moved to your other breast, giving in the same treatment as he held the first one in his large hand, gently rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and finger.  

“Joel,” you breathed, arching your back into him. 

“Someone sounds needy,” he breathed, pressing his lips to your sternum and kissing down your stomach - still soft from when you’d carried Sylvie years before. Joel had never seemed to mind. 

“I am,” you groaned as he tugged down your shorts and panties, taking the tank top with them, leaving you naked before him. “Fuck, I need you…” 

“Can’t let you go unsatisfied now, can we?” He asked, spreading your legs and settling between them. He put your thighs over his shoulders and he teased his tongue along your seam, curling it around your already swollen clit. He hummed in approval. 

“Taste fuckin’ delicious,” he said, licking you again. “Can’t believe this pussy is all mine…” 

“All yours, Joel,” you groaned as he pressed his tongue into your aching entrance, making you gasp. 

He ate you gently at first, his lips and tongue working with his fingers as they softly toyed with your clit. But your husband knew your body well, maybe better than you, and the second he could feel you starting to tighten around him, he was harsher, more eager. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin as he pressed his tongue deep, his nose against your clit as he swallowed up your wetness, two of his fingers hooking inside of you so that they plunged deep as his tongue pulled back, one always replacing the other so you got the delicious friction and push and pull without ever feeling empty. 

“Joel,” you panted, your fingers winding in his hair, your hips rocking against his face. You felt the edges of his mouth pull up but he didn’t slow his pace, not even as you exploded around him, your grip on his hair tightening. He ate at you until your orgasm eased and you were left, pliant and gasping for breath, below him. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, crawling up your body and wiping your slick on the back of his hand before he settled himself between your thighs. His thick, heavy length brushed against your dripping sex and he kissed you, tasting like toothpaste and your own cum. You looped your arms around his neck as he pressed just the head of himself into you, the stretch at your entrance delicious enough to make your back arch into him. 

“I want you,” you breathed when he pulled back from your lips enough for you to speak. “Please…” 

“Past wanting you,” he said, sliding himself into you inch by devastating inch. “Past needing you, too. Don’t think there’s a word for how much I want and need you, Baby…” 

You whimpered below him as he sank into your body until he was fully within you, your channel feeling so full and stretched but so damn satisfied. 

“Belong inside of you,” he leaned down to kiss your throat. “Made to be inside you…” 

You wanted to say something back but could only moan as he started to move inside you, his thick cock dragging along your inner walls, his head catching on every ridge of you as he worked his length within you. 

He started out faster and harder, your nails digging into his back, the air getting knocked out of you in little gasps with every snap of his hips. Your second orgasm was building fast and, when you began to tighten around him, he pressed as deep as he could reach, slowing is pace so you could feel every exquisite movement. 

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, hips moving slow and steady, pressing yours down into the bed so firmly you wondered if you were going to have a bruise in the morning. You didn’t care. “Can feel it, you always get so goddamn tight right before, Baby, love feelin’ you like this…” 

“Can’t help it,” you were keening below him, doing everything you could to take him deep. “You feel too good, Joel I can’t…” 

“Cum for me,” his whole body was covering yours, every inch of him against or within you. “Need to feel you, Baby, need to feel this pussy - my pussy - cum on me…” 

“Fuck!” You gasped as your walls fluttered around you and he let out a strangled moan as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

“That’s it, Baby,” he sounded almost choked up, straining to hold off his own orgasm for another minute. “Doing so good for me, takin’ me so well, feelin’ so goddamn good…” 

Your orgasm faded and he all put ripped himself from your body before pressing his cock head against your clit and spilling his seed over you there, his warm cum making your oversensitive, wrung-out nub throb. 

“Fuck Baby,” he collapsed next to you for a moment before he reached into his bedside table and grabbed a clean washcloth, reaching between your legs to wipe away the combination of his spend and your slick. “How are you always that fuckin’ incredible?” 

“If you were made for me then I was made for you,” you said, still catching your breath as you rolled to wrap around him. He pulled your naked body tightly to his own and dropped the washcloth on his nightstand, next to the candle you’d made the year before. It was lavender scented, made with oils taken from the plants you’d grown in your back yard. They came from the buds you’d taken from Bill and Frank’s when you first headed west. You’d made several of the candles, liking the fact that the smell helped reduce stress and anxiety. You, Joel and Ellie had seen enough of that in your lives.

Your mind drifted as you lay in your husband’s arms. You drifted through the past 30 years of your lives, the pain of deep loss, the profound connection to the people you’d come to love, the life you’d built with Joel in Jackson. You thought of your daughters that were here with you and the daughters you lost - Sarah and your unborn child. You’d started picturing her as a girl, always a girl. Joel, you were certain, was built for raising incredible girls. He’d done it with Sarah and now he was doing it with Ellie and Sylvie, too. He’d have done that with the baby you lost, too. You could feel it. That feeling hurt less now with Joel beside you.

You thought of Joel playing guitar in your living room, next to the pictures of Sarah and Tess and a sketch you’d made of Ellie and Sylvie. You thought of the way he called you and Ellie and Sylvie “his girls” as though you were everything that mattered to him. You thought of the way that, even as he’d fought to push you away for so long, you kept finding each other again and again because there was something inside of you both that was always reaching for the other. You were made for him and he was made for you. Of that, you were certain. 

His lips found the top of your head, his hands splayed wide over your back as he held onto you. 

“Love you, Baby,” he whispered in the dark. “More than anything. Always have, always will.” 

“Always love you, Joel,” you whispered back. “Until the day I die.” 

You drifted off to sleep in his arms, in your home with the family you’d built with the man you were always meant to find. He was yours, you were his and you were happy.

A/N: I can't believe it's over! I sincerely hope you are happy with where Joel, Doc and Ellie wound up in Jackson. They're finally all at a point where they can do more than survive, they can thrive together, just like they were always meant to.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you times a million for reading this story. Your kindness, love and support have meant so much as I've written this piece. I don't think it's possible to thank you enough for that, so I'll just say it again: Thank you.

If you've ever liked a chapter, commented, reblogged, anything at all, please know that I appreciate you. Every notification I got on this fic made me smile. You helped make this journey an absolute joy.

I did start a new fic, called Yearling. It's another TLOU Joel fic and you can find it here.

I'm not great at goodbyes so I'll just say this: See you around. I hope you'll join me on another adventure one day. Until then, take care of yourselves, spread some kindness and share love when you can. I love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae@fifia-writes@fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff@encephalitiskat @ashleymsnodgrass @karlinspace

[rjmartin11]

Faded Love

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: After finding out about Elvis infidelity, you decide to have one final decision before you walk out the door for good.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Infidelity, lies, crying, SMUT, cussing

Material is not suitable for people under 18 years of age. Viewer discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: I had a dream about this one. It was weird and amusing, too. This could have a happy ending if I write another chapter...

・ʚ♡ɞ・💙・ʚ♡ɞ・

You dated Elvis for three years, and you have been happily married for two years. There's nothing Elvis wouldn't do for you. He was your baby boy as you were his Satnin.

Life with Elvis wasn't perfect, but it was damn near close. You two shared everything together. He made love to you after knowing you for a week. He showed you things he had never ever shown anyone. You were head over heels in love with this lovely, blue-eyed man. He had your soul fly, and your heart sang.

When he proposed to you, your mouth was frozen. You almost forgot to say yes, but Elvis has a way of moving your tongue. The first week of marriage, you two were stuck in your room, never making it out. Room service delivered around the clock. Life was so sweet with Elvis by your side.

Elvis was the man of your dreams. Yet in the last month, you felt him drifting away from you.

Elvis would kiss you in the morning and whisper in your ear, "Good morning, my love." He would always hold your hand whether people were there or not. Now, it seemed he'd hold your hand for appearances sake. Lovemaking slowed down, and he stopped holding you in bed. It was all so random to you.

You feared the worst happened. He found another lover. Someone prettier, kinder, and more fun than you.

Someone who could give him the baby you couldn't. You tried. God knows how much you tried to give him that blue-eyed baby. He told you that he never worried about it. That the both of you could just spoil each other. He'd be your baby, and you'd be his mommy. Still, you wanted to give him more.

You saw him staring at a random beauty when you two were at the studio. You didn't pester or gripe. You simply just took his hand, getting his attention. He looked at you, and you leaned, placing your foreheads together. You whisper to him softly, "I love you the mostest, babe."

"Forever," Elvis says, kissing your lips gently.

This was your special thing with Elvis. It was your secret hand shake, password to love, and lover's coat of arms in one. At one time, it was your code for let's go upstairs and get naked. Now, it's an affirmation of love.

Tonight, Elvis had a one night only show in Memphis at the Orpheum. Elvis was on fire. He nearly brought the house down, and he looked astonishing in his black and green jumpsuit with the gold buttons. You screamed and cheered along with the crowd. You knew that Elvis was truly alive when he was on stage.

You danced to all the classics. That's Alright, Mama, Jailhouse Rock, Blue Suede Shoes, All Shock Up, and Hound Dog. The newer additions like Little Sister, and you swayed to sweet, slow songs like Love Me Tender.

Elvis started his joking segment and had the Memphis crowd laughing.

"He's incredible, don't you think?" The young woman beside you asks.

"Yes, very," you answered, your hands folded together over your heart.

"One of his guys asked me if I wanted to meet Elvis backstage, and I was like, "Who wouldn't?" She tells you. "I'm going to meet Elvis Presley."

You take a really good look at her. She's a blonde with beautiful blue eyes. Not as beautiful as Elvis's eyes, but beautiful nonetheless. She has to be about nineteen or twenty years old. Flawless skin and a nice figure. Her smile is pretty. Altogether, you understand how Elvis could be drawn to her charms. It's not her fault he requested her. Does she know who you are?

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be spreading this, but I'm here by myself. All my friends are on Beale Street, and I wanted to be here. God, I'm I lucky."

"Yes," you reply. "You are a very lucky girl."

"I'm Daphne," she says, extending her hand to you.

"It's nice to meet you, Daphne. I'm... Y/N," you say, trying to compose yourself.

"You are beautiful, Y/N. Have I seen you somewhere before? Like a magazine? Are you famous?" Daphne asks you.

"No. I'm no one special, but thank you for saying that. I needed that nudge of confidence."

A moment or so later, Jerry comes to take you backstage. Elvis was already in the middle of his final song, and you had to make a run for it. You politely say your goodbyes to Daphne, running away to get to Elvis.

As you run backstage, you formulate a plan to be the one in Elvis' arms tonight. He is your husband, after all, and there's not a sin that's has been committed against your marriage.

Confidence brims through you. You know what to say to Elvis. As you wait for him to get out of the shower, you catch up with the Sweet Inspirations. They have always been so... sweet and kind to you. They liven up the background of the show, giving it that lady's touch and soulful edge.

Five minutes later, Elvis emerges looking gorgeous in his all black jumpsuit. He was coming off of his high from the performance, and his cheeks are aglow. You can tell. He's absolutely breathtaking. You want him.

After shaking a few hands, Elvis makes his way to you. Excited, you jump into his arms to embrace him. You both laughed. You inhale his manly musk, allowing your senses to become aroused by him.

"My love, you were incredible tonight," you whisper in his ear.

"Thank you, baby," Elvis says, kissing your cheek.

He places you down on your feet, allowing you a moment to grasp his face in your hands to place a tender kiss on his soft lips. Elvis seems taken aback by this action, but he kisses you back. You take this as initiative to lean more into this kiss. You open your mouth to let him slip his tongue in your mouth. You taste each other, and Elvis pulls away slowly.

"What was that for?" Elvis asks, curiosity plaguing his mind.

"Do I need an excuse to love you?" You ask him.

"Not at all, Y/N," he says, combing a strand of hair behind your ear with his fingers.

He stares into your eyes for a moment.

"Darling, you seem tired? You ready to go home?" Elvis asks.

"If that's code for, let's go home and have fun. Yes, take me home, baby."

"I'll walk you to the car," Elvis says, taking your arm and escorting you to the black stretch limo.

He walks you to the private alley where the getaway limos are located for fewer fans to come swallow the car.

A few members of the Memphis Mafia are around for protection purposes. Elvis opens the door for you to get in.

"Wait," you say. "You aren't coming home with me?"

"No, I'll be home soon. I got some business to take care of first at the studio, then I'll be there."

How could he lie to you to you so effortlessly? You won't call him out on it, though. He hasn't done anything yet.

"Elvis. I want you. It's been a month since we've been physically intimate. I miss that part of us. Why are you pushing away?" You question.

"I'm not pushing you away. I'm... I'm just busy with work and this latest record. The Colonel's on my ass. I'm tired..."

"Are you tired of me?"

"Baby, never. Why would you think..."

"I want you to come home with me. Now. Please, Elvis," you beg.

"I told you I can't."

"The last month feels like you have been pushing me away. It's like you don't love me anymore."

"That's not true, Y/N," Elvis says, trying to convince you.

"Then come home with me. I'll give you that baby I promised."

"I'll be home before midnight, baby."

"Elvis, if you don't come home with me, something's going to happen," you say quietly.

"Jerry will be there with you. Nothing's gonna happen."

Elvis gives you a kiss on the forehead. Desperate, you grab his face and kiss him one more time.

"I love you the mostest, babe," you whisper.

"I know, darling. I know," he whispers back. "I'll see you when I get home."

He kisses you once more and walks back inside. You're left there wondering what you've done wrong. A second later, you get into the back of the limo, with Jerry sliding in behind.

"Jerry, can you please ride in the other car?" You ask. "I need to be alone for a little while."

"Y/N, I don't think..."

"Please!" You shout.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, opening the car door, exiting the vehicle.

Once the door is shut and you're alone, you begin to cry. Your heart shatters into a million pieces. For the man who was promised to be yours rather be with another woman.

The car starts to pull off, making its way to Graceland. You cry the entire ride home. You don't know what to do. You're speechless.

The car stops at the front door, and you start to pat the tears away from cheeks. The car door opens, and you get out heading to the house.

Once inside, you head straight to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and a glass. You're pouring your sorrows in this bottle tonight.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jerry asks.

"Just fine," you answer.

You move past Jerry, heading upstairs. Your mind wonders, and you have the most evil thought come to your mind.

"Jerry?" you say.

"Yes, Y/N?"

You look at his face. You look into his eyes. For the very first time, you realize Jerry has hazel eyes. He's always been attractive. He's not Elvis, though. That's a betrayal you can't even fathom. You breathy laugh at the thought of taking out your sexual frustrations out on Jerry.

"Y/N..."

"Thank you, Jerry," you interrupt him. "Thank you for being so kind. I'll never ever forget that. Take the night off and go home."

You make your way upstairs and pour yourself a drink as you sit on the bed. The tears begin to form in your eyes as you contemplate your next move. You don't bother taking off your dress.

You think about his lips and all the sweet things he used to say to you. Is he saying those same loving terms to her? These thoughts plague your mind as you glance at the clock.

12:35am...

No Elvis.

You refuse to sleep until you give him a piece of your mind.

As dawn approaches, you lift the wine bottle in your hand to see if there's any left. There's just enough to fill the glass that sits on your bedside table. You don't bother pouring it. You just put it back down on the floor by your feet.

As you look up, Elvis walks through the door. He sees you sitting there with the bottle at your feet. You look over at the clock and see that it's 6:05am. Six hours later than Elvis told you he'd be home. You look back at him.

"Baby, what are you doing up so early?" Elvis questions you.

"Did you have fun last night?" You ask. There's no time beating around the bush.

"What?" Elvis comes in the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Did you have fun last night? With her?" You restate.

"Baby, you've been drinkin'."

"Yet my mind is completely clear. Answer me. Did you have fun with her last night?!" You raise your voice.

Elvis doesn't take this lightly. He demands respect and doesn't appreciate being spoken down to. You don't know where you find the courage to speak to him like this, but you do.

"Watch your tone speaking to me like that, Y/N. I give you ever gawd damn thing you could want..."

"Except for your respect," you cut him off.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. There was no her," Elvis explains.

"Her name is Daphne. She's a petite blonde with blue eyes, and she loves a good time," you tell him.

Elvis freezes in place. How could you know what her name was or what she looked like? Did someone say something to her?

"How... did you know?" Elvis asks quietly. "Y/N, I'm..."

"I just want to know one thing, Elvis."

You stand up from your position on the bed and slowly walk over to him. Your blood boils as the tears wail in your eyes again. Elvis doesn't know what to expect from you, but he's prepared to be scolded.

"Was she good?" You ask.

"What?"

"Was she good in bed? Was she fun? Did you tell her all your secrets? Did you tell her about your spot right behind your neck? How you like it kissed? Licked?" The tears pour down your face as you approach him, kissing his lips.

Elvis, out of breath, folds to your advances. It used to be so easy for you and him. A simple look. The brush of your hand. The sparkle of your eye. The sound of your voice would drive to nuts about you. Now you have to cry to get his attention.

You unbutton his shirt and slide your hands down his hairy chest. You smell her all over him, which adds fuel to the fire within you.

"Does she know how you like you dick massaged?" You ask him as you undo his chucky belt from around his waist.

You drop the belt to the floor. You kiss his lips as you undo his pants, sliding them down his slender hips. As his cock springs forward, you get down on your knees in front of him.

"Did she kiss it like this?"

You ask kissing the head of his cock. You lick it the tip of him as he drips with precum, and he shivers. You slowly take him in your mouth, measure by measure. You moan and suck him off just the way he likes. Elvis holds the back of your head as you drive him deeper into his mouth. You pop him out of your mouth, then tend to his balls, licking and swirling them with your tongue.

Elvis is beside himself with lust. He recalls all the times you two made love. No one he's been with has ever made him feel this good or this pleased. You knew his body like no other.

After Elvis comes, you look at his face as he goes slackjawed. You know how to make him weak in the knees to get whatever you wanted from him sexually.

You stand up and push him on the bed. You take his pants off his legs and slide your dress off your shoulders, leaving you bare before him.

You climb on top of him, pumping his cock softly until he's good and hard.

"Does she know you like to be called Daddy?"

"No," Elvis sighed, catching his breath.

"You tell her about our baby talk, Daddy? Needs you, baby girl does. Miss you much, daddy waddy," you whisper to him as you lower yourself on top of him.

Unable to answer, Elvis shakes his head.

"Daddy in need of baby girl. Daddy need her," Elvis whimpers.

You slowly rise in fall on his hardened dick. You roll your hips so his tip touches the part inside of you that only he knows. You inhale sharply when he touches it just right that it drenches you completely. Excited, you start to push yourself off and on his penis.

You lean forward, looking Elvis in his eyes. You always get lost within his eyes. This was the way you glazed into the very soul of this incredible human being. This is when he showed you the real him. There was so much love within him give.

Elvis grasped your hips, forcing himself inside you deeper. He has felt this good in a long time. You knew him so well. You knew how to make feel alive when he was off stage, yet you knew how to bring him peace.

"Her wet for Daddy?" He asks.

"Daddy, waddy ever had it this wet?" You ask.

"No, baby. No," he answered. "Daddy cumming fast."

You speed up your rhythm a bit, chasing the orgasm within you both.

"Oh, Elvis, Daddy," you moan.

And like a count down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two...

You fall over the edge of pleasure into the space of oblivion.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N!" Elvis shouts, releasing his seed all over your walls as they pulse around his dick.

One.

Elvis holds you close as you both catch your breath. He kisses your lips, taking all you give him. You sit up on his chest.

"Was Daphne that good, daddy?" You ask him.

"No, baby girl. No where close. She doesn't compare to you," he says.

"If that's true... why would you even fuck someone that's not better than me?" You say.

Elvis is left speechless yet again by you this morning. You climb off of him and head to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

"Y/N, baby," Elvis calls out to you, but you ignore him.

You clean yourself off and wash your face. You dress yourself in your jeans and an old tee shirt.

"Y/N, c-can we talk?" Elvis asks from the other side of the door.

You open the door and look at him.

"What about?" You ask. "There's nothing left to say. I begged you to come home with me last night, and you refused me. You lied and went to be with that girl."

"I'm... I'm..."

"I'm done, Elvis."

"Done? Done with what? Where are you going?" Elvis asks.

"I'm leaving you! You've broken my heart. You promised me you'd never do that. I'm gone!"

"Y/N, baby. Please don't go," Elvis begs you.

You push past Elvis, leaving him standing there completely naked. You run down the stairs and out the front door. You hear him yelling for you to stay, but ignore him. You run to the front gate, asking Uncle Vester to open it. You run down the sidewalk and stick out your thumb to flag some down.

An old truck driver in a navy blue pickup stops and picks you up. You ask him to take you to Union Street near Beale. He kindly helps you to your destination.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 8

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! I’m posting the first chapter just to check for interest. Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

“Are you in love with Terrian?"

The words slipped out of your mouth carelessly, and you regretted asking the question the instant Anna looked up at you with a horrified, tear streaked face. The answer was right there, no words needed to convey it, and hearing it out loud only seemed to pain Anna more.

You sat down beside her. "You could've told me."

Anna stared toward the bottom of the stairs. "I didn't want to admit it. I don't think I even admitted it to myself until I saw him holding that half-breed's hand."

"Maybe they're not a couple," you offered. "Maybe he's just taking care of her. We don't know what their relationship is yet."

Anna put her face in her hands. "It's obvious! You saw the way he looked at her! She's beautiful and looks good in the outfits he likes and they've lived together for two years!"

You had no response to that. Terrian and Nariah had certainly looked like a happy couple. You sighed and threw an arm around Anna, feeling the other girl's body tremble as she cried.

Several minutes later, Anna stopped crying and dried her eyes. "Sorry," she said, still sniffling. "I know it's a stupid thing to cry over. But it just feels like half-breeds keep taking things away from me. They took my mom, and my brother, and my body. But for the past few years, I've been thinking, 'At least I have you and Terrian'. Now it's like you're turning to Vartan and Terrian has that... woman upstairs."

Your immediate reaction was to go on the defense, to loudly proclaim that you were not turning to Vartan, that there was no way Vartan would ever take you away from Anna, but stop stopped yourself before you could open your mouth. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you were being drawn more and more to the mysterious half-breed who slept on your couch.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," you finally said. "But I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens with Vartan. He can't replace you. No one can."

Anna's eyes were wet again, but she smiled. "I made the best decision of my life when I agreed to share that blanket with you on Second Street."

You laughed. "When I saw you, all I could think was, 'She's small, so there would be more blanket for me'."

"You were so devious back then!"

"Hey, it's how I survived,” you said with a shrug. 

Footsteps sounded from the stairs behind you, and you turned to watch Terrian approach with a worried expression. He looked at you and Anna, then lowered his head. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have kept Nariah from you. I just didn't want to worry you two. I promise I'll never keep secrets from you again, okay?"

You looked at Anna, who slowly nodded. You turned back to Terrian. "We forgive you."

Terrian exhaled, and you wondered if he'd been holding his breath since he came down stairs. He smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"But you don't seriously keep her up in that dusty room all day, do you?" you asked.

"No, no," he answered. "She has her own room down here but I moved her today because you girls were coming. I guess that plan didn't work though." He laughed nervously and looked at Anna, who wouldn't meet his eyes.

You gave him a look you hoped he would interpret as "Don't ask. Not now."

He must have gotten the message. He gave another weak smile and said, "You're free to leave for today. If you didn't get everything done, that's fine. Be sure to come back tomorrow, okay?"

He looked at Anna as he spoke the question, but she stood up without a word and walked down the stairs to the first floor. You heard one of the bedroom doors shut and figured Anna was changing out of the maid costume before heading home.

"She's still angry with me," Terrian said sadly.

"She'll get over it eventually," you assured him. "Just give her a little time."

"You're not angry with me, are you?"

You shrugged. "I have a half-breed at my place too. I can't really say much about it, can I?"

"Thanks," he told you again, and you nodded to him before heading down the stairs.

Anna was already gone when you finished changing, so you walked home alone. It was dusk, which meant the city was a gross color of orangey-maroon as you reached your apartment. You wondered if Vartan would still be sitting motionlessly on the couch, or if he'd even be there at all. You had no idea how long his exile from the tower would last, and he hadn't bothered to tell you. 

When you opened the door, you immediately scanned the room. You almost laughed when you realized that Vartan was indeed still sitting on your couch. You slipped off your shoes, dropped your duffel bag on the floor, and walked into the living room.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed that Vartan was asleep, slightly slumped over. You leaned down to look at him, thinking for the second time that he almost looked human while sleeping. He breathed the same as you did, his chest rising and falling slightly as his breaths made little wheezing sounds.

His eyes snapped open suddenly and you took a quick step back. "I'm home," you said, trying to start a conversation before he had time to question your closeness. "What did you do all day? Don't tell me you sat there staring at the wall."

He sat up straight and raised his arms above his head, stretching in a way that reminded you of a cat. He rubbed his eyes, one at a time, and looked at you. "I slept most of the day," he said. "I read your books as well."

You saw all five of your old trashy romance novels strewn across the couch beside him and blanched. They had belonged to your mother, and they were full of exactly the sort of scenes you really did not want a half-breed in your home thinking about. You gathered them up in your hands and said, "Where did you even find these?"

"They were on a shelf over there," he answered, pointing to a rickety book case that was completely empty.

You replaced them on the shelf and headed for the kitchen. "I guess you're hungry. I don't have much but I'll try to fix something."

A loud knock at the door startled you, and you looked swiftly to Vartan. "Hide!" you whispered, pointing to the darkened hall that led to your bedroom. He obeyed and slipped into the shadows as you walked over to the door. "Who is it?" you asked.

"My son is hurt," a male voice called back. "You're a nurse, right?"

You felt something stir in your heart. It had only been a day, but you realized at that moment that you truly missed being a nurse. "Well, sort of," you said through the door, "but all my supplies at are the doctor's house now. We had to close the clinic."

The voice on the other side hesitated for a moment, then said, "Can you at least look at him? He's bleeding."

You unlocked the door and began pulling it open. The door suddenly shoved against you hard enough to knock you down, and three men rushed into your apartment.

"Look for food and medicine first!" one of them shouted to the others, who split up and began digging through your refrigerator and drawers.

"Hey, stop it!" you yelled. "I told you I don't have any supplies here!"

The man in the kitchen was filling a plastic bag with fruit, butter, and everything else he could get his hands on. "You have plenty of food though!"

You ran over to him and tried to pull the bag from his hand. "Stop! Get out of here!" you screamed, jerking with all your strength until the bag split and the contents spilled out.

"Damn it!" the man said, shoving you away and stooping down to gather back up the food.

The man who had been giving orders made his way to the kitchen and grabbed you by the hair. "Shut up and back off, you little bitch, or I'll slit your throat!"

"Let me go!" you cried, trying to jerk free. The man released you, then immediately punched you in the stomach. You groaned and dropped to the floor, holding your sides. You looked up at the sneering man. "You're... making a big... mistake," you said.

The man laughed. "What are you gonna do? Report us to the half-breeds? Good luck with that!" He kicked you in the gut and laughed again while the other two continued grabbing your food.

You rolled over onto your stomach and tried to crawl to your feet, but one of the men kicked you again and you collapsed. You looked back to see which one had attacked you, but in that same instant a dark blur moved by you at such speed you could barely make out what it was.

Vartan now stood over you, facing the man behind you. Without a word he reached out and ripped the man's head right off his shoulders. Blood sprayed your apartment like a fire hydrant and you shrieked, more from surprise than horror.

The other two men, upon realizing just what had been hiding in your apartment, made a run for the door, but they didn't even make it out of the kitchen. Vartan swooped in like an angel of death, clad in black, ripping the burglars limb from bloody limb as you sat watching, frozen in shock.

The man who had initially punched you was the last to go, lying face up in a pool of his blood, both his arms torn off. Vartan lingered with him, bi-colored eyes narrowed into an expression you had never seen a half-breed wear, as if he had a personal vendetta against the man. He lifted the man up into the air and squeezed the man's neck until there was a terrible cracking sound. Vartan dropped the now limp body onto the floor and turned around.

You stared up at him blankly. He was covered in blood, like red brush strokes on white canvas. He was a ruthless angel of death, but somehow he had become your savior. "Are you alright?" he asked, holding out a hand to you. Even though it made no sense, even though it was totally crazy to even think it, you could've sworn right then that Vartan looked worried.

"I'm okay," you answered, taking his hand and standing up. You looked around the kitchen, suddenly more thankful than ever for your time at the clinic. You had seen so much blood and gore that it hardly fazed you any more.

"I am sorry," Vartan said in his usual monotone voice. "I have broken one of your rules. I will leave if you want."

You had nearly forgotten making the rule at all. He had agreed to punish no one while he was staying with you, but how could you enforce that rule when he had broken it only to save you?

"I don't want you to leave," you told him, surprised by your own frankness. "You protected me, so how can I blame you for that?"

He looked at you silently for a moment, and for the first time you were struck by a sudden desperation to know what he was thinking. If you asked, he probably would have told you, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"I will clean up the mess I made then,” he said. 

You nodded and gathered up the food the men were trying to steal. Some of it was splattered with blood, but most of it was in plastic bags, safe from the bloodshed. You replaced what could still be used in the refrigerator and handed the now empty bags to Vartan, who began placing the various severed limbs in them.

The two of you cleaned the kitchen in silence, the only sounds coming from the squish of body parts being crammed into the bags or the squeak of a mop across the floor. You wondered if you should thank Vartan for what he did. How did things get this far? You had started out fearful of speaking to him, because he was a half-breed. Now you were afraid for entirely different reasons.

You felt like you were balancing on a wire, caught between being fascinated by him - strangely attracted to his otherness and grateful for his bizarre kindness - and being disgusted by his violence.

When they were finished, they took turns in the shower and met again in the kitchen. Vartan had a dark towel wrapped around his waist, apparently remembering the conversation that took place before you left for work. You threw his uniform into the washing machine and sat down at the table.

"Are you hungry?" you asked him casually, your own appetite completely dissolved from the moment Vartan ripped the first head off.

"Somewhat," he answered, his voice as even as ever.

"What do you like?"

"Meat. Cheese. Carrots. Oranges." He read them off like a grocery list.

You stood up and opened the fridge. "I have bologna."

"That will be fine," he said.

You pulled out the things you needed to make a sandwich and avoided his eyes while you fixed his food. He was watching you, staring at you with those alien eyes, yet somehow it felt... normal? Like he had been watching you for years? You shook your head and finished his sandwich, then sat down at the table beside him.

He ate the food, slowly but otherwise the same way anyone would eat. You remembered Terrian's words, that Nariah had become "so much more human than Pagoda". You wondered if you could ever say the same for Vartan.

"Hey," you said, and he stopped mid bite to look at you curiously. You hesitated for another moment, then smiled at him. "Thank you."

The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he reflexively wanted to return the smile, but his expression remained the same. "You're welcome," he replied.

Tag List:

@scrumptiouslampwobblercop

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know!

[kidge-planet]

"When green leaves meet red ones": kidge fall event.

Day one; Happy Birthday Keith!

characters: Kidge Kids (Kaiden, Anaïs and Thomas...)Keith and Pidge.

Pairings: Keith and Pidge, Kidge

Post season 8, Married Kidge.

It was a chilly fall morning. The birds were singing, and soft sunlight came through the curtains of the Kogane family's bedroom, filling the room with a warm, golden glow.

Pidge and Keith were peacefully sleeping in there bed, curled up to each other.

You know, it was one of these rare morning in which Keith accepted to stay in bed instead of going to jog… And trust me, it was a rare occasion! (Well, he stays in bed every sundays too…)

But today was sure a special occasion!…

Pidge finally woke up. As she opened her eyes, she looked over at her husband and a bright smile decored her face as she met his gaze.

«Happy birthday.. » she yawned and she kissed his cheek.

Her voice was still weak and her eyes still sleepy. Keith loved seeing her that way, that’s how he knew that he had succeded in life : when he sees her laying next to him with her messy hairs and her soft morning voice.

« Well, thank you, princess »

He kissed her forehead and was about to speak again but got interupted by the sound of the door oppening and some tiny footsteps running towards the bed.

The both of them turned towards the noises and as they expected, they found their three kids at the edge of the bed.

«Happy birthday, dad ! » The three of them sang in union :

Kayden, the oldest, was holding a cake in his hands,

Anaïs that was 7 (Two years younger than Kayden) was Proudly handing a drawing to her father.

And finally, there was the small Thomas that was simply sitting on the ground: He was only two years old and wasn’t understanding the whole situation so much, but he was for sure happy to be there…

At this sight, Keith smile: He loves his family. And he, for a huge part of his life, missed one. So, he felt like the luckiest man in the universe to have tha amazing woman and these amazing kids by his side every days.

«Thank you guy ! That’s so thoughtfull of you! But, huh, how did you get that cake?.. » He asked, is voice a bit broken by the slumber he had.

Kayden smiled and answered in a fierce tone : «We did it for you yesterday ! The four of us ! And mom told us to come and give it to you this morning ! »

Keith then turned to his wife that was snuggeled against him.

«Yeah… Might be a bit sugarry, Thomas wanted to put the sugar in and well… He pourred a bit to much of it in it… But hey, It’s still good! »

Keith kissed his wife’s forehead and then sat on the bed to let room for his kids.

They all climbed in the bed and suggled against their parents. Keith gave to each of them a huge hug and a kiss on the head…

«Dad! This is for you! It’s a drawing we did all together! Even mom drew a few stuffs! »

Keith took the drawing form his daughter‘s hands and took a look at it :

There was a house and a few trees… These were for sure Anaïs’s creation, as well with the drawing of a little girl that looked like her and a man that was supposed to represent Keith that was drawn next to her… Also, there was a drawing of Kosmo and a little boy. Keith immediatly understood that it was Kayden’s drawings and he was stunned to see that his son had represented Kosmo perfectly… Then, he noticed that someone drew with more confident traits: that was for sure Katie. She drew Herself and Thomas as well as some clouds and a sun… FINALLY, there were some red scibbles all over the drawing… That was Thomas, there was no doupts…

Keith admired every single piece of the drawing and when he was done, he raised his head to look at his wife and kids with a smile. "This is beautiful, everyone, thank you!"

The morning kept going like that and after they ate the cake, the kids went to play a bit in the living room...

"I have other gifts for you..." Katie smiled and looked up at her husband.

"Oh yeah?.. What is it?.." He looked at her, curious.

"You'll discover gift one later when everyone comes to celebrate... As for the second one, the kids are having a sleep over at Matt's place tonight..." She innocently said.

"How is that a- oh... OH!..."

A/N: HEY EVERYONE! HAVE A NICE KIDGE FALL EVENT!

So, I wrote that fic a while ago, I hope you like it!

(don't forget the #kidge fall event 2024 when you post for the event! )

[teeth-farie]

Honeycomb

Muriel/GN Reader

Notes: trans muriel, lingerie, fingering, feminization, roleplay, cheesy housewife novels, 3k words

☞. . . Hey! It’s been a while! This is based on me and my friends headcanon about muriel liking those cheesy housewife novels

Moving in with Muriel was easy enough, you had been together on the hunt for a year, after all. The two of you had long surpassed any discomforts that new couples would face while adjusting in each other's spaces. You found it easy to fall into his orbit, melding together in peaceful harmony.

But one thing you didn’t expect, however, was Muriel’s lack of…everything in his home. Yes, you anticipated it somewhat, but there was nothing to occupy his time or his mind other than work, nothing for him to relax other than a single, woodcarving chisel. There needed to be more, you needed him to have the necessities of life. 

So you started bringing home books. Simple, short novels from the shop that would give him a little more wonder to his day. But not many Vesuvians knew how to read, and the thought that you gifted something that he couldn’t use made you panic–but as he picked up the small volume and flicked through, feeling the texture of the pages and taking in the summaries, you felt your anxiety quell. You think that Asra must have taught him when they were young, and the thought of the two pointing to words in a too-large tome has you smiling. 

“Thank you,” Muriel breathed, a fascination in his eyes at your gifts, small and lovingly worn in his hands. When was the last time he had gotten a chance to read? A long time. Too long.

He had finished the book in a day.

It was hard to pull him away from it. Many times you caught him flipping the book back open, making his way through chapter by chapter. Nothing could pull him away; he’d use one hand to hold it open while brushing Inanna or stirring stew in the hearth, and it was a miracle that he didn’t try to take the book with him while tending to the chickens. 

Muriel finished it during dinner, his attention focused on the page as he spooned hearty stew into his mouth across from you. It was a short book, only about one hundred pages, but it filled him with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. 

“Was it good?” You asked, smiling around your spoon, finally catching his attention. He flushed, sheepish as he nodded. “Yeah, I liked it.”

 “I’m so glad! Why don't you tell me about it?” 

Unfortunately, you had only so many books, and Muriel had begun to get picky with his findings. He liked reading fairytales and poetry, he liked mystical adventures with beautiful creatures, and you only had so much. 

So you took him to the market in search for more, sifting through dusted novels and doggy-eared journals for something he’d enjoy. And enjoy he did, walking back home with you with the smallest smile on his face, a new little treasure in his bag. 

Nothing was like seeing the awe on his face when the first official library in Vesuvia opened, and while he didn’t attend the grand opening (far too many loud people, he had said), he went frequently thereafter, making unintentional friends with the librarians and allowing himself to bask in the light of the large windows. 

You kept an eye out for new literature while you were out likewise, searching through the selections to find something new.

And it was meant as a joke, really. You meant it to be a funny gag gift when you brought home a novel with a hand-drawn cover of a delicate, foresty woman holding onto a well chiseled man. 

Muriel’s face had erupted in red, steam practically shooting from his ears. He grumbled, giving the cover a side eye. You hadn’t thought much of it after that, admittedly, aside from the laughs it gave you. 

You stir awake, turning over on your side. Muriel’s sitting up in the bed, the bedside candle lit and flickering, illuminating his large form delicately. He’s holding a book in his hands, and you hear his breath softly hitch as he flips the page, his hand coming up to his face and his teeth catching on his thumb. You’ve never seen him react like that before when reading.

“Honey?” You call out.

You hear him choke on his breath and he quickly snaps the book shut, pinching the flame out with his fingers.

“Go back to bed.” He says tightly.

“What were you reading-“

Muriel quickly lays back down with his back towards you. “Nothing!” He practically yelps. “Go to sleep!”

You snuggle back up against him and he begins to relax again. How odd. 

Muriel was quiet the morning after that, and while he likes to think he’s sneaky, you know he’s hidden that joke gift book under his pillow. When he steps outside to chop more wood, you take a peek at the book under his pillow. You crack it open to his bookmark, letting your eyes fall on a paragraph. 

“-The impish magician finds the nymph under him, her long legs spread open. She smells like lavender and honey, and he wants to eat her whole. 

“My hero,” she croons, watery, doe like eyes staring up into his. “Treat me gently, I beg of you.”

The magician's hand is in between her legs, fingers pressing into her p-“

Ah. You hadn’t expected this little book to be that graphic. No wonder Muriel had been so shy about it! You look over your shoulder at the window, carefully peering to see him still halving wood. With a grin full of teeth and a mind full of mischievous ideas, you flick through a few more pages.

…

The next following days you put your plan into action.

Admittedly, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. Fortunately for you, Muriel also seemed to be in a touchy-feely mood, reciprocating the touches and kisses. In the back of your mind, you wonder if that novel had anything to do with his more spontaneous libido as of late. 

Your hands press against his sides, lightly brushing against his ribs and drawing out a breathy little sound that makes you grin against his lips. His mouth is wet and soft against yours, parted as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip. It makes him shiver, his fingers clutching into the knit of your sweater. The hearth is still burning, the low flickering of the fire warming your skin almost as much as the kissing is. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” you breathe out, your teeth catching gently on his lip. Muriel makes a whimpery little sound, and you think about how much more you want to hear it. He hums in curiosity, eyes still lidded when you pull away to fetch a bag from under the bed.

You open up your bag, taking out the linen-wrapped package. “What's that?” He asks, interest peaked as you hand it to him. “Open up and see.”

Muriel looks down at the package in his hands and carefully, like he thought it might bite him, he peels away the covering. The sight inside makes his breath hitch, his skin blooming hotter. 

White and sage lace, silks, all wrapped into each other to form a gorgeous set of lingerie. He feels his hands tremble a bit, and somewhere in the back of his mind says that this feels familiar. 

And then it hits him; this fits the exact description of what the character in the novel wears during one of the scenes in which– oh, oh, Muriel’s face has gotten so very red–

“Like it? I flipped through that book you like so much and thought about doing something special for you.” You rest your hand on his thigh, snapping him away from his flustered focus. He looks at you, biting on his lips. “So what do you say? Wanna put it on, honeycomb?” 

Another piece from the book, an endearing nickname for the forest nymph that has him feeling less than innocent. 

You’re watching him as he pulls off his sweater, inch upon glorious inch of skin exposing, light brown with scars and stretches. He’s gained weight since you’ve both made your peaceful life together, indulging in things he never thought he’d be able to savor. No longer is his skin clinging to muscles. He's soft, squishy over that strong body, and it takes everything in your power not to sink your fingers into his stomach. 

The pants follow next, then his simple underwear, until he’s completely nude in front of you. Vulnerable in all the best ways. He’s biting his lip, gently touching the lingerie in the wrapping. 

“Do you want help?” You offer, meeting his shy gaze. “Mm,” Muriel can only whine, slowly, stiffly nodding his head. “Please,” he tacks on for extra measure, possibly a little less shy than you thought; he knows how hot it gets you when he uses his manners. 

You feel a little shiver in your spine, one of excitement as you grab the panties and twirl them around your finger. “Come on, big boy,” you whistle playfully and your big boy snorts with a roll of his eyes, standing to his feet before the bed where you sit. “Or should I say, little lady?” 

Now that gets you a nice little sound, a stuttery gasp from his kiss-swollen lips. “You like that?” You grin, holding out the leg holes of the panties for him to step into. Muriel grabs onto your shoulders as he does, nodding sheepishly in agreement. “That’s a good girl,” you snap the band around his hips, the sage silks and lace framing his hips and ass snuggly. His hips jerk, already dampening the fabric with his arousal. “So, so pretty. And you’re all for me.” You lean forward, eyes flicking up to his as you press a kiss to his stomach, over the thick happy trail leading into the scrunched elastic of the underwear. 

“Ssstop…” Muriel whimpers, turning his face in embarrassment. 

“You want me to stop? Are you sure?” You fiddle with the bralette you’ve yet to put on him. “Or are you just being shy again?” 

He huffs, face still profoundly red. “Shut up.” He grumbles, though empty of malice. You’ve got your answer, so you hold out the last bit of lingerie for him. Muriel loops the straps over his shoulders, turning around for you to fasten the clasps. You don’t miss how he shivers when your knuckles brush against his spine, or the way his breath catches in his throat when those fingers trail down the length of his back. 

“Turn around, let me see you, honeycomb.” 

Muriel follows your order without a second thought, shuffling to face you. And he looks gorgeous. Green truly is his color, there’s no doubt about that. The bralette hugs his chest, the scalloped-edged cups framing his breasts. Your eyes rake down lower, down his beautiful scarred chest and stomach, thick patches of hair littering the path, all the way down to the hem of his panties. You almost drool at the way his clit bulges against the cloth, swollen and needy. 

“Look at you…” you grab his hips and squeeze, fingers looping under the band of his panties to give them a playful snap. “Back on the bed, hun, come here,”

He crawls into bed after you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he does. Every shift of his thighs has the heat between his legs growing stronger, a measly friction that makes him feel even more desperate. Muriel’s the one to initiate another kiss, his hands carefully placed on the tops of your thighs. You thread your fingers in his hair, smiling against his lips. You have to use your grip to pull him back to speak, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

“So eager…Lay down, that’s it,” the blankets are soft below his half-naked skin, although failing to warm him quite like your touch. You spread his legs apart, excitement surging through you at the sight of his dampening underwear. 

Teasingly, you run your fingers up the inside of his thigh, up to where he needs you the most. “What was the thing your book talked about? The magician putting his fingers in the nymph’s flower?” 

Muriel chokes on a gasp, hands shooting up to cover his face. “Ugh-”

“Come on, honeycomb, don’t you want that too? You’re already dressed up just like her.” Your thumb rubs over his bulging clit, drawing a whimper from his lips. He nods from behind his hands.

“Ah, Ah, I gotta hear you say it.”

Muriel peeks from behind his fingers. “Don’t make me say it…”

You don’t grant him any reprieve, only giving those just-barely-there rubs of your fingers over his clit. He keens, hips flexing up frustratedly. “Please,” he gasps out, “puh-put your f-fingers in my, inmyflower.” 

“Oh, good girl.” You grin, relishing the shiver that runs through him. He breathes out shakily when you pull his panties aside, fingers spreading him open. You whistle low, sliding your fingers through his folds, slick discharge and arousal gathering on your skin. “Now that’s the prettiest rose I’ve ever seen.” 

Muriel huffs, flustered. You take the time to position your thumb over his clit, rubbing slow circles as you ease a finger into him. His eyes twitch, jaw falling slack at the long-awaited stimulation. “Now that’s a pretty face.” You coo, leaning over to press a kiss against his jaw, teeth teasingly nipping at the skin. “And you’re taking me so well too…” Another finger slid in, two pumping in and out, curled up against the squishy walls of him.

“H-hughh,” his large hand carefully reaches down to where your hand meets his pussy, fingers brushing your wrist. It’s almost like he’s in awe of it, the way you make him feel, the sight of it. His clit sticks out and he can see the way it throbs and twitches when you press your fingers into a good spot. 

You take his hand in yours, the one not currently finger fucking him open, and squeeze it tight. “You’re so romantic, honeycomb.”

His whole body feels hot, like a never-ending fever. You always make him feel all…mushy and soft. You make him feel like he’s special and good, and he whimpers when you lean back up and take a good look at him, embarrassment running deep. But, he doesn’t think it’s a bad kind of embarrassment when it’s you. 

Muriel clenches down on your fingers when you drag them back out, teasing a third against his hole. “How wide do you want me to stretch you tonight, little lady?” You coo down at him, a devilish little thing. 

He swallows, his tongue feeling too thick in his mouth. He’s never been good at saying outright what he wants. “Wide,” he breathes out, thighs trembling while you languidly stroke over his folds. 

“Mm, three fingers?” You slowly slide the three in, savoring his shaking moan, before pulling them back out. Muriel whines at the loss, hips bucking up. 

“Or maybe four? Or did you want my whole hand? I know you can take it, I’ve seen you do it before, honey.” 

The man below you groans, turning his head to hide in the pillows. “You’re teasing me…” you hear him whine, his chest heaving with his worked-up breaths. 

“Oh, I know, I’m just so mean to you, aren’t I?” He spares you a knowing glance and you have the absolute pleasure of watching his jaw fall slack and his eyes roll when your fingers plunge back into him. He’s full with three, toes curling when you spread them. “Ah- ah- ah-,”

You pick up the pace, thumbing his clit with every thrust of your fingers—and oh how he squirms, his thighs tensing and shaking, his stomach crunching and body twisting when you relentlessly fuck his sweet spot. Muriel makes such lovely sounds, gurgled little cries as he tugs at his own hair, still squeezing your hand that he won’t let go.

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you?” He nods curtly, biting back a gasp. 

“Puh-please, please, I-I’m so close, I’m so close–” His hips buck up once, erratic, teeth grinding. The way he speaks is almost a hiss, hushed and strained. The mossy green of his eyes bounce across your face, lips open in a gape, almost frantic. “I-it’s, it's gonna–”

“I know, just let it out, honeycomb,” you lift his hand to your lips, kissing his sweaty knuckles, and that seems to be what sends him over that beautiful crescendo.

 Muriel gasps, strangled, a moan creeping from his scratched throat like gentle hands around his jugular. His body tenses, hips thrusting up–and he squirts, a forceful arc of it spraying from his spasmed core. It paints your stomach, wetting your skin and spitting with each languid thrust of your fingers. “Thaaat’s it, good girl.”

It seems like almost an eternity that he shudders and shakes, his trembling body slowly falling back until he’s boneless against furs and knits. Muriel distantly smells himself when you free your fingers from his cunt, and perhaps he's too worn to be shameful, only crooning softly at the gape. Sweat and cum soaks the hem of his panties, cooling in the settling air. A log from the hearth falls with dimming embers and it becomes clear just how wrapped up in him you’ve been. 

“Thank you.” Muriel breathes out, chest still heaving, glistened with sweat under the lace. Wordlessly, you lean down to kiss him, falling between his legs. He reciprocates eagerly, lips parting for your tongue, a shiver riding up his spine. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the wetness of your stomach pressing against his. Whether he notices or simply doesn't care is up to you, a languid kiss all that matters. 

He’s the one to break the silence after a lifetime of kisses and shared breaths, his arms coming to wrap around your back, his foot nudging your ankle. 

“There’s another scene, after this one.” 

You grin, bottom lip caught between your teeth. He blushes brilliantly, but the proposal is still there, up to you to grab. 

“Enlighten me then, honeycomb.” 

[toothpastecanyon]

Unto Dust, Chapter 2

Lucy Ann was nothing if not a survivor. After weeks of being on the run from the Angel, she was looking forward to getting back to her life of wandering the world, and relaxing in the sun.

But this time, it may not be so easy for things to go back to normal.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Lucy Ann remembered that day on the banks of the Thamesis. The fear that rose in her chest as light bled into the horizon, as the fading stars above slowly abandoned her to her fate. She remembered the terror, the struggle, the tears welling up in her eyes as she realised this was it, this was the end, there was nothing she could do…

Nothing she could do.

She remembered thinking those words; she remembered how, as she lay back, her eyes fixed on the orange glow beyond the river… they didn’t seem as scary, now. She had done all she could, lived a good, long life. A life that she’d miss - stars, she remembered how the only panging regret in that moment was that she’d reached the end of it.

But if this was truly it, then so be it. She’d hidden from the light for a thousand years, and as she lay there, she realised she’d forgotten just how beautiful the sun was when it rose. The glow of the clouds, the village in silhouette, the first few rays peeking through the trees on a distant hill… she took a deep breath, in, and out, and she smiled.

She wasn’t scared at all. And when the light finally reached her, and gently warmed her cold skin, she laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, because she was alive, she was alive, she was alive!

She was alive. Lucy Ann had drawn the corner of the blinds, and was peeking out at the grey glow of early morning when there was a knock on her door. She glanced over sharply, and stood there still until there was another knock and a voice.

“Hellooo, it’s June! Are we awake?”

Oh - the fairy who owned the condo. Lucy Ann cast a glance at the summoning circle still drawn on the floor before reluctantly slinking over to the door. She opened it to a winged woman in jogging gear with a paper bag in her hands; she gave a sparkling smile that Lucy Ann struggled to match.

“There we are! Gooood morning, darling!” She gave Lucy Ann a kiss on each cheek before gliding past her. “Sorry to pop in so early - I hope I didn’t wake you up! Just wanted to drop off some supplies before work!”

“Um, thanks?” Lucy Ann saw her notice the summoning circle as she set the bag down on the coffee table. “I, uh, was gonna clean that up.”

“Oh, don’t worry about a little Alcor circle! If you’re going to summon anything else, though, could I ask you put down a little protection ward on the floor?” She gave an airy laugh. “Demons just love scratching up the hardwood. Anyway, I popped down to the supermarket and picked you up a few more bloodpacks! You don’t mind B positive, do you?”

“No, that’s, that’s fine. I’m not picky.” Lucy Ann watched her open the fridge. “Thanks, again… uh, I can put that away-”

“Nonsense, guests sit down!” June waved her off, and then did a double take. “Oh no! Are you cold, dear?”

“Cold?”

“You’ve got my ski gloves on!”

Lucy Ann blinked, and looked down at the thick black glove on her hand. “Oh,” she said, and quickly hid it behind her back. “Right, uh… a little? But it’s fine.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Let me show you where the thermostat is!” Her wings fluttered as she made her way to what was very obviously a thermostat right by the couch. Lucy Ann made a face, but decided to play along. “Here it is! Now you just tap the screen, and you can set it to whatever you like, okay?”

“Okay.” Lucy Ann turned it up a few degrees, then gave a crooked smile. “That’s, uh, much better. Thanks.”

“I hope it’s more comfortable! I won’t have my guests needing to wear gloves in my house - that just won’t do!”

She made her way back to the fridge, leaving Lucy Ann to discreetly slip off the glove. June shut the fridge, and beamed at her.

“That should be you stocked up for the week! And if you need anything else, anything at all, you let me know, okay? You’ve got my number?”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks, June.”

“It’s no trouble at all, love!” She was folding up the paper bag she made her way towards the door. “Now I have to get back to my run, but I’ll see you… oh, I almost forgot!”

“What?”

“Darcy from the Dinner Crew wanted me to invite you to our monthly meeting this evening!” June took out a hairband and started tying her hair back as she spoke. “Everyone would love it if you could come - we’ve all been so thrilled to have an original member back in Portland! You’d be a guest of honour!”

Lucy Ann grimaced. Meeting a whole new Dinner Crew - she didn’t know if she was up to that right now. “Uh, that’s real kind of you to offer, but I’m not sure-”

“Oh, and it’ll be after sunset, of course!” June laughed to herself. “Don’t you worry, we wouldn’t invite you somewhere you couldn’t go!”

At that, Lucy Ann froze. It was what a lot of well-meaning strangers assumed about her, and it wasn’t unreasonable; there weren’t many vampires who lived long enough to walk in the sun. Normally she took a bit of smug satisfaction in correcting them - or if they were outside, simply staring blankly back until they realised - but today, she didn’t quite find the words in time.

“Anyway,” June continued, opening the door. “I really must run now, darling, but I’ll swing by at seven and give you a ride! Ooh, this is so exciting!”

And with that, she was gone, and it seemed like Lucy Ann was booked for the afternoon. Great. Wonderful. Letting the polite smile drop, she went over to slump on the couch, and dragged a hand down her face.

Ugh… Oh, well.

Maybe it’d be a good thing to get out of this house for a while. And meeting the newest cast of the Dinner Crew could be nice - June was certainly a sweet lady, even if she was a lot.

A glance at the blinds, a grimace at the glow behind them. And of course, it’d be fucking dark outside. Because that was something she had to worry about now, wasn’t it?

Lucy Ann stared down at her hands, and remembered the dirt on them as she clawed her way up the banks of the Thamesis. She remembered the long, stumbling path she took back to her safehouse, the times she had to stop and hide in bushes at the sounds of footsteps because stars, she didn’t know what they’d do to her if they found she hadn’t burned. She remembered the grime on her skin, the deep ache from bruises she was too weak to heal… and the wonderful warmth of the sun.

She remembered making it home, collapsing into bed, and sleeping for a whole season. By the time she awoke, she’d wondered whether the whole thing had been a crazy dream; had she really walked in the sun?

She remembered seeing the drawn wooden shutters over her window, the soft glow of the sun peeking out from the edges of the panels. She remembered stepping towards them, remembered unlatching them, remembered throwing them open wide open and feeling-

Lucy Ann turned away from the blinds. She sat still for a moment, one hand pinching the other, before grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. Something stupid was playing; she changed the channel to something else, saw it was worse, so she changed it back and settled in and forced herself to relax.

Stars, it was so stuffy in here. You know what, it was a good thing she was going somewhere; anything to get out of this fucking house.

______________________________________________________________

It looked, Lucy Ann thought, like a mix between a warehouse and a restaurant. The building was truly massive, with concrete floors and ventilation tubes weaving their ways across the tall ceiling. Dinner tables were neatly arranged across the room, and a buffet stretched down one side. A huge, messy line had formed; the whole room echoed with the sound of voices and laughter. It was so loud that June nudged her and said something; she couldn’t hear it at all, but she just smiled and nodded and that seemed to satisfy her.

June started digging into her meal: a steaming meat pie of venison, potatoes, and green vegetables. It looked so good Lucy Ann wondered whether she wanted to chance the line… maybe when it died down a little bit. For now, she was happy sipping her wine glass of blood.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Unlike June, Lucy Ann had no trouble hearing the deep, booming voice of Darceus Alamastern. The leader of the Dinner Crew was a lion of a kitsune, easily twice as tall as the other two foxes on either side of her, with nine great tails fanned out behind like a peacock’s train. Her smile was friendly, and her eyes were bright and curious, but it was hard to look at her and not find one’s eye drawn to the size of those teeth in her mouth.

One fang was broken off, Lucy Ann noticed. Ouch, she thought, and then shook herself, cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah.” She said, and stared out across the crowd. “Lot of people tonight; are they all in the Dinner Crew?”

“Oh, no.” Darceus gave a hearty laugh. “We’re a little lean on formal members lately, but these meetings are open to the public. Anyone can come in and get a hot meal.” Her eyes twinkled as she watched Lucy Ann. “Were there so many members in your time?”

“With Hank?” She chuckled. “Oh, I’m not sure. We were a lot less organised back then. Took years before we started keeping any kind of track… but we got big pretty fast.” She sipped her drink, smiling to herself. “Yeah, pretty fast. It was really something.”

Darceus listened with interest. “To see the beginning of the Dinner Crew… it must have been quite remarkable.” She looked around the room, seeming to analyze something, before turning back to Lucy Ann. “It looks like everyone is getting settled in. I’m going to make a speech shortly, welcoming everyone to the meeting. Would you like to say a few words?”

“Sure.” She chuckled. “I hope you got a megaphone, though. This room is huge.”

With a grin, Darceus tapped the edge of the table; glowing purple runes flickered to life, and dimmed again as she took her hand away. “Don’t worry,” she said, “you’ll be heard.”

“All the tables have it,” June added, leaning in close. “After dinner, we have a kind of town hall where anyone can ask Darcy anything. I’ll tell you, you won’t believe some of the oddball questions we get!”

“Oh, I’m sure I can believe it,” she muttered. She would have said more, but Darceus was rising to her feet. Tapping her wine glass, all heads began to turn as she cleared her throat and started to speak.

“My friends!” Darceus began, and the chatter in the room immediately died way down. “Welcome one, welcome all, to our monthly Dinner Crew dinner! I trust you’ve all got something to eat - our thanks again to the Greater Portland Forest Community for catering tonight.”

She nodded to a white-haired elf seated at a table not far from their own, and continued.

“Whether you’re here for the meeting, or just for the delicious food, we really appreciate you all coming out tonight. The Dinner Crew’s got a long and proud history of holding these meetings - it’s been about one hundred and seventy years, now, unbroken since we reformed after the Chancellor administration.”

Darceus glanced down at Lucy Ann, and smiled. “But our history of giving back to the community stretches back far longer than that. Friends, we’re honoured tonight to host a truly legendary figure, a founding member of the Dinner Crew and lifelong advocate for the preternatural. Give it up for our own Lucy Ann!”

Lucy Ann stood up on her chair, and felt it in her chest as the entire room broke into thunderous applause. it was surreal, sometimes, to see just how much she meant to the Dinner Crew. She didn’t even think she had that big a role in founding them, and she certainly hadn’t been keeping up with them the past few centuries, but to this sea of strangers cheering her on, she might as well have been Hank himself. It was a humbling feeling, to wonder why they thought she was so important.

The applause took a while to die down, but eventually it faded, and she cleared her throat. “Uh, thank you, thank you!” She started, and grappled for something to say. “It’s… it’s an honour for me too, to be here with you all! You’ve all been, ah, more than kind.”

She felt like she wanted to stop there, but a whole room of eyes still looked on expectantly. Lucy Ann wasn’t one for stage fright, but she found herself fiddling with her wine glass as she went on.

“And, uh…” she started, and chuckled. “It really has been a while, hasn’t it! I don’t think I’ve been back to Portland since Dave was in charge - anyone remember Dave?” No hands went up at first - after a moment there was a lone whoop from the back. “Yeah, hey, someone remembers him! Of course, heh, he was before the Chancellor administration, so, ah, a long time ago, now. A long time.”

Silence, again. Lucy Ann scratched the back of her neck; stars, she’d been trying to kill time this morning, and she didn’t think to prepare something to say? Finally, she gave a bit of a shrug.

“Anyway, ah, that’s it for me. I’ll be in town for a little while, so if anyone wants to hit me up, go for it.” She chuckled. “I, uh, I probably don’t know where the party spots are anymore, so if anyone’s up to show me around the new Portland, that’d be great.”

After that, she sat down, and Darceus nodded at her.

“Lucy Ann, everyone!” She said, and raised her glass. Everyone else did as well, and there was a chorus of clinks across the room. June offered her drink, and beamed when Lucy Ann clinked with her.

Lucy Ann found herself smiling, too. Eh, her speech was a bit crappy, but everyone seemed to enjoy it well enough - with the way everyone started tucking into their meals, they probably liked how short it was. She watched as Darceus took a seat and rather awkwardly picked up a fork with her huge, paw-like hand.

Maybe this wasn’t the old Dinner Crew. Maybe these weren’t faces she knew… but they were faces she could know, if she stuck around. She’d been going it alone for a good while even before the Angel chased her across the continent; maybe it’d be nice, to let herself be a part of something again.

“Oh dear,” June said bashfully, looking over her empty plate. “I think I should have waited to start with everyone else. How rude of me!”

Lucy Ann snorted. “Hey, you said you were starving in the car. You said you were doing, like, marathon running?”

“Oh, yes, I’m training for my 10K.” She stared wistfully at the buffet table. “Do you think they’ll mind if I have a bit more?”

“Go for it!” Lucy Ann said; when she still hesitated, she added: “You know, if you’re up anyway, could you grab a little bread roll for me? If you don’t mind.”

June was on her feet in an instant. “Of course I’ll get that for you, darling! I’ll be just a moment!”

“Thanks!” Lucy Ann said, and called after her: “Perfect host!” She chuckled at the way June’s face lit up, and sat back in her seat.

Sipping her drink, she just watched the crowds for a moment, let herself zone out to the hum of conversation happening all around her. Darceus seemed to have slipped away at some point to walk among the tables; she wasn’t expecting someone to talk to her until June got back.

Which was why she jumped a bit when someone tapped her on the shoulder. They were right behind her; it took a second for her to turn her chair.

“Oh, man, you really do look like a six year old.”

That was the first thing Lucy Ann heard from a strange young woman standing in front of her. She was elven - the pointed ears gave away that much - but she was dressed almost in pajamas, with sweatpants and a loose t-shirt with a graphic of some tv show she didn’t recognize on it. She had her hands in her pockets, and a crooked sort of smile that immediately put Lucy Ann on edge.

“Yeah?” Lucy Ann said, and frowned at the gaggle of five, much more nervous humans that seemed to be gathered around the elf. “Can I help you guys?”

“You definitely can!” Said the elf. “See, my name’s Bea, and I’m a college student over at Portland State. Doin’ my masters in, heh, Elf Studies. Top of my class.”

“Okay?”

“I heard you might be attending this dinner, and when my friends heard that-“ Bea put an arm around one guy and dragged him in closer. “They were just begging me to introduce them. Especially this dork, he’s writing his whole thesis about you. Tell her, Matt.”

Matt’s hand was visibly trembling as he held it out. “Um, h-hello Ms. Ann. I-it’s, uh, i-it’s such an honour to meet you, I’m Matt- but, sorry, you already knew that, I-I didn’t mean to- sorry!”

Bea whistled. “Damn, kid, you’re really blowing this.”

“He’s not blowing this.” Lucy Ann cut in, and took his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Matt. What’s your thesis about?”

“Um…” His eyes bugged out a bit. “The impact o-of the downfall of, of the Chancellor Administration on Elven Societies in the Western United States, um… I-I’ve been reading a lot a-about the impact you had, i-it’s really impressive, you’ve been such an inspiration to me since I was a kid-“

“You’re losing her,” Bea snipped, and smirked as he seemed to deflate. Lucy Ann watched incredulously as she strode over to June’s chair and sat herself down in it.

“Okay - Bea, is it? What the hell is your problem?”

“I knowww, I’m sorry for bringing a bunch of humans over here to gawk at you.” She waved them away. “Come on guys, clear off! You’re bothering her.”

“They’re not-”

“Hey, is this blood?” Without warning, Bea picked up her glass and took a swig; almost immediately she made a face. “Eugh, yep, that’s blood,” she said, but to Lucy Ann’s disgust, still decided to swallow. “Oh, shit, that was nasty. Gotta ask - do you end up liking the taste of pennies, or is it more of a ‘gotta have it or I’ll die’ kinda thing?”

Lucy Ann was caught between shock and fury; she could only manage to snatch her glass back as she tried to form words. “You… what are you-“

“I’m back!” Came June’s singsong voice; Lucy Ann watched her pause as she noticed the figure in her chair. “Oh, Bea. You’re in my seat, hun.”

“Yeah, just a sec,” Bea said, putting her feet up on the table. “So you said you needed someone to show you around, huh? Show you where to have a good time?”

“And you’re volunteering?” Lucy Ann gave a harsh laugh. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

“Why would I be joking? Hey, if it’s about those humans-“

“It’s not about those fucking humans, it’s about you!” She watched Bea flinch at that, and raised her eyebrows. “Are you- holy shit, are you actually trying to impress me right now? Is this what you do when you want someone to like you?”

Bea sat up straighter. “No. Hah! No, I just-“

“Because I’ve got some advice. Go say sorry to your fucking friends, because I don’t know how you managed to make them.” She leaned in closer, and watched Bea shrink back. “And they’re not ‘just humans’, you know. Just because they don’t live as long as you or me doesn’t make you better than them.”

“What? I don’t, I don’t think I’m better than them-”

“Oh, please, of course you do. You and every other baby immortal who decides to try ‘living amongst the humans.’” She scoffed at the thought. “Yeah, you’re, what, a hundred? Two hundred? If you wanna pretend you’re soo much older and wiser than your friends, maybe you should act like it.”

Bea’s face had gone a deep, angry red; her whole body had cringed into the chair, and her face was frozen in a tense smile that bared all her teeth. She didn’t seem to know what to say; Lucy Ann tilted her head.

“Well?”

“I…” Bea gave a hollow chuckle. “I meant…”

She trailed off there, and Lucy Ann rolled her eyes. “Just get out of the seat,” she said, and waved her away. “My friend was sitting there.”

Bea quickly got to her feet, backed away, and scurried off back to her table without another word. June sat down, her wings fluttering a bit as she gave an anxious chuckle.

“Whoo, that was… remind me not to tick you off! Here’s your bread roll.”

“Thanks.” Lucy Ann cast one last glance behind her, before pushing her chair back in. “So, ah, who’s Bea? Not a member of the Dinner Crew, is she?”

“Over my dead body!” One of the other kitsune spoke up across the table. June laughed nervously.

“Bea? Oh, not technically - she’s a young elf from the GPFC. She likes to get involved, though! She lives on campus, helps out with outreach there.”

“Outreach?” Lucy Ann snorted. “No wonder membership’s low.”

“Oh, no, she’s actually quite good!” June said, and then seemed to think about her words. “When she wants to be, she’s quite good. She’s, uh, definitely a character sometimes! I do like her - haha, I tell myself, the more she tries to rile you up, the more she likes you!”

“I see.” Lucy Ann arched an eyebrow. “She must love me.”

June only gave a tight smile at that, and took a bite of her meal. “Oh - oh, wow, this is so good! How’s your bread roll, darling?”

Lucy Ann wasn’t quite ready to let it drop yet, but it seemed the conversation was over. With a sigh, she took a bite of the bread roll.

“It’s good.” She muttered, and it was - almost annoyingly so. It was hard to stay angry with good food. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“Wonderful!” June perked right up. “You just let me know if you want anything else, okay? I talked to one of the caterers and he said they’ve got plenty of food to go around! I might even be a bit naughty and go for thirds, hah!”

Lucy Ann swished her drink around, and made a face as she set it on the table. If nothing else, she was definitely getting a new glass.

______________________________________________________________

It took a little time for Lucy Ann to get settled in again after her encounter with Bea, but she didn’t show up again, and many friendlier faces introduced themselves over the night. The two other kitsune at the table were Jasper and Anadixis; they were Darceus’ nieces, taken in after their mother was murdered by a cult shortly before the reformation of the Dinner Crew. Darceus himself returned with the leader of the GPFC, a venerable old elf called Gweiyir who introduced themself, but said very little otherwise and left shortly after. Vincent was another vampire who came up to give her a coupon for his nightclub; he seemed a nice enough guy, but listening to his rambling sales pitch, she really found herself regretting that open invitation she’d given in her speech. Yeah, sure, tell a room full of strangers to all try and be her buddy at the same time. Great idea.

Before she got too tired of him, though, the town hall portion of the dinner began, and she had an excuse to shoo him away. The questions were mostly pretty dry, but she listened in, trying to piece together all the new factions making up this Dinner Crew. There was one pro-nat who spoke up, but the whole room seemed well-practiced in shouting him down before Darceus even got the chance to cut off his mic.

“What a silly, silly man,” June had snickered, shaking her head. “You notice he waited until after dinner before getting himself thrown out? Ridiculous.”

And slowly, the night wound down, the crowd thinned out, and the loudest sounds became the squeak of shoes as Dinner Crew members started going table by table, gathering up the many empty plates. As Lucy Ann finished off her drink, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Ready to head home?” June said, and at the sight of her gentle smile, Lucy Ann felt her own slowly slide off her face.

Oh, right. Back to that house. She hadn’t thought about her hand all night long, but on the car ride home, she found herself rubbing it again, found her mind wandering back to that slightest tingling across her skin, so light it could be nothing at all… but would she dare to test it? What if she was wrong, what if it burned again, what if… what if he’d done exactly what he set out to do?

What if he’d hurt her in a way she could never heal from? What if he’d forever changed how she’d feel to walk in the sun, made it so she’d always wonder if its warmth was too warm, made it so she’d have to think about it, to worry about it, every time she left her house?

What if he had won?

Lucy Ann didn’t hear June’s voice at first. She flinched when a hand touched her, and stared as June gave a little laugh.

“Did you nod off? I don’t mind if you did, it’s been a long night.”

“Heh, yeah.” Lucy Ann summoned up a ghost of a smile. “A good one, though. I’m glad I went.”

“I’m glad, too. You let me know if you want to meet up sometime!” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, you know what we could do? Evening runs!”

“Hah, uh, you know, I’ll have to think about that.” She reached for the door. “Goodnight, June. Thanks for the ride.”

“It’s no problem at all, darling. Goodnight!”

Lucy Ann stepped out of the car, and watched it drive off. Then she turned to look up at the condo building, dark and silhouetted in the moonlight. She stared at it for a moment longer, then looked to the side, at the trees lining the gentle upward slope of the sidewalk. She gave a grim sort of smile.

Maybe not a night run, she thought. But she wasn’t ready to go inside just yet.

Lucy Ann started off down the path, her hands in her pockets, and her head tilted up, taking in the stars.

[thethirdromana]

DS9 Rarepair Week: Free Space

Curzon Dax was old-school cool.

He shouldn’t have been able to pull it off. He was an old guy, wiry and a little stooped, but he still flirted with everyone he met like he’d just turned 21. He had a story for every occasion, and they changed on every retelling. He knocked back Romulan ale like it was water and laughed at anyone who told him to slow down. He was four times Benjamin Sisko’s age and Sisko had the fiercest crush of his life on him. 

He didn’t think anything would come of it. Wasn’t sure if he wanted anything to come of it, even. He savoured the crush like it was something luxurious and used it to motivate himself whenever the work of an ensign on Pelios Station became too onerous – which it often did. 

Pelios Station had two bars, and they were drinking one night in the one Curzon preferred; the seedier of the two, naturally. Curzon was boasting about something, like he often did, probably something to do with women, and one of the other ensigns called him out on it.

“You think I’m too old for that kind of thing, don’t you?” Curzon said. “I can see it in your eyes. I bet I could arm wrestle any one of you.” He looked the ensign up and down. “Maybe not you, you’re a stick, it wouldn’t be fair. Now, Ensign Sisko, there – that would be a challenge.”

Sisko felt a grin spread over his face, quite beyond his control. “You think you can take me on, old man?”

“‘Old man’, is it?” Curzon said, but he was grinning too. “All right then.” 

For a moment, when Curzon gripped his palm, Sisko thought about letting him win. But his competitive instincts took over. Curzon was stronger than he looked, and he was trying to psyche Sisko out too, staring him down. It made victory all the sweeter when Sisko smacked Curzon’s hand down onto the table.

“Well fought, old man,” Sisko said.

“You call me that one more time –” Curzon said.

“What’ll happen, old man?” Sisko said, arousal and adrenaline fizzing. 

Curzon came in, very, very close, his hand still on Sisko's. “I’ll make you regret it,” he murmured, and Sisko felt a thrill go right up his spine. 

Ten minutes after that his clothes were in a heap on Curzon’s floor. 

It didn’t happen often. Curzon was Sisko’s commanding officer first, his mentor second, his drinking buddy third, and only then his lover. Jennifer treated the relationship with baffled fondness. Until finally the news came from Risa that Curzon was gone. 

Two years later, newly in command of Deep Space Nine, Benjamin Sisko waited as a beautiful young woman called Jadzia Dax stepped out of a shuttle, mid-flirt with the station’s new doctor. 

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Their romantic relationship, if he could call it that, was over: Trill had strict rules about that kind of thing. And there were so many other people here, so many other expectations and things to think about. They were drawn into the strange world of Prophets and Orbs before they had any kind of chance to talk properly, before Sisko had a chance to learn who Dax was now that he – she – was no longer Curzon. 

It was Dax who took the initiative, in the end.

“Benjamin, I was happy when I heard you accepted this assignment. I've been worried about you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Sisko said. “Old man.”

[rosemary-morgan]

Cor Leonis x F.Reader (x Yandere!Drautos) - Traitor (Part 1)

(Pictures/GIF are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google/tumblr - Collage made by myself.)  

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Warning: Yandere!Drautos, obsessive behavior, angst, mention of death

Summary: You were supposed to be his, but instead Cor Leonis had found happiness with you. Drauto's obsession with you is getting worse by the day, until finally he would walk over dead bodies to get you.

Cor Leonis x F.Reader (x Yandere!Drautos) - Traitor (Part 1)

"I would prefer not to let you go at all, darling." Y/N looked up at Cor as her fingers gently caressed his bare chest. They had made love in these sheets for hours, and now they lay exhausted next to each other, with Y/N more than happy to have Cor all to herself for once. It often happened that Cor was away on a mission for days or even weeks at a time, all because of his work as a king's guard, and so she wouldn't get to see him. She could never be sure if she would reunite with him, because what he was doing was not without risks. "I know. But I have no choice but to go." Lovingly, Cor stroked through her hair as he looked at her pretty face. "Hey... don't give me that sad look. It's only for a short time and you know I don't take risks with my life. Don't worry." It was so easy to say, but Y/N was afraid of the day when someday someone would show up at her door and give her the terrible news that Cor was dead. Y/N buried her face against his neck and Cor could clearly hear her sigh, whereupon he put his strong arms around her body and just held her. Of course, he was afraid of not being able to return to her, but he was part of the King's Guard and he led the soldiers who fought for Lucis to help protect the people of this kingdom. But sometimes Cor wished he could withdraw from this great responsibility and enjoy life together with Y/N. So far, they had not even found the time to travel together. He wanted to be able to offer the young woman so much more, but his work took a lot out of him. "And tonight there will be a small celebration at the royal palace. You've been looking forward to that for weeks, Y/N." The young woman nodded, smiled a bit, and Cor was very happy to see that. He was also looking forward to it, especially as he couldn't wait to dance with her. Oh, he was very proud to call such a wonderful woman as Y/N his girlfriend. She was smart, beautiful and had her heart in the right place. Sure, some envious glances would be drawn to her, especially since Y/N was a lot younger than he was and one or the other wondered why she hadn't chosen a man of the same age. But the answer was simple. Cor Leonis was the man she loved. He was loving, tender and treated her as she should be treated; with the greatest respect that one had to show a woman. Fifteen years separated them. But what difference did that make? Age did not matter, as is well known, and Cor really did not look his age. Apart from that he was fit and well trained. "I got myself a wonderful dress and I'm sure you'll like it as much as I do!" "Mhm~ I'm looking forward to taking it off of you again" Cor purred, gently kissing her lips. The young woman smirked in amusement, looking into his wonderful blue eyes. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

A few days later...

"Don't worry. I'll be returning home in a few days." With a clearly worried look, Y/N looked up at Cor and yet she nodded. She had absolute understanding for his situation, because in the end it was his job to take care of this kingdom. "If something happens, Drautos will be there to protect you." Titus Drautos; leader and instructor of the Kingsglaives, and an excellent fighter. Titus nodded at Cor, then glanced at the beautiful woman he had secretly desired for months like no other woman. But she was tied to someone else and she showed no interest in him. Actually, Titus had decided to accept this fact, but he found it very difficult. Every time he saw her, his lust and hunger for this woman increased immeasurably. "I miss you already, darling," she whispered and Cor could see the tears in her eyes. He shook his head gently as he smiled at her, taking her petite face in his strong yet gentle hands. "No one will stop me from returning to you," he whispered to her before kissing her soft lips. Y/N could count on Cor, but no one could really say what tomorrow would bring and somehow the feeling crept over her that something bad would happen in the near future. This feeling was so intense that it gave her a stomach ache and made her feel more than uncomfortable. "I have to go now, Y/N. I love you." "I love you too, Cor." A final farewell kiss was shared before Cor descended the steps in front of the royal estate. Before getting into his black car, he threw the young woman a warm smile, which she instantly returned. "Don't worry. Cor is a survivor." The young woman heard Drauto's words and yet she was not really persuaded by them. "I hope he will return to me this time as well." Drautos forced a smile, even though jealousy had him in a tight grip. "He will. Don't worry."

But in the days that followed, Insomnia was to meet a horrible fate. The heart of the city was attacked by Niflheim and many people lost their lives. "Y/N! Y/N!" Drautos strode through the corridors of the palace, looking for the young woman to help lead her to safety. What would happen to his king, or to his loyal companions, did not interest him. Y/N was the only one he wanted to keep safe. He rushed into one of the countless rooms and he was more than happy when he found her. "Drautos!" "What are you still doing here? You need to get out of here right now!" Even as he spoke, Drautos walked up to the dark-haired woman and gently grabbed her hand. "What's happening out there, Drautos?!" She was scared, you couldn't blame her, and you could hear it clearly in her voice. "Insomnia is under attack!" She instantly realized that King Regis was the target. And not only him, but also his followers were chosen as victims. "Regis... Oh my god! I have to get to them!" But Drautos prevented her from risking her life, for that was exactly what she would lose if she moved through the palace without an escort. "Please let me go, Drautos! I have to take care of the injured!" For that was the young woman's job. She was a nurse, a healer, who pursued her profession with great passion. "Be reasonable, Y/N! I promised Cor to protect you!" Cor! Where was he? Hopefully he was not near the capital, otherwise something might have happened to him as well, and losing him would not be something the young woman could handle. "Where is he, Drautos? Have you heard anything from him?" The captain sighed deeply. He hadn't heard from Cor, but this moment would give him a golden opportunity he didn't want to miss. He played with the idea of lying to Y/N. "Cor... Is... he fell, Y/N." His words were barely getting through to her and she didn't know what to say in response at first. She just stared at him with wide eyes and a thick lump forming in her throat. "He won't come back." "No... No, no, no! What are you saying?" The first tears wet her delicate skin as she realized what Drautos was telling her. Her Cor was supposed to be dead? No! This could not be! "Drautos! He can't be dead!" she cried out outraged, hitting the officer as hard as she could against his chest. Luckily his armor prevented the feeling of any pain but the young woman kept hitting, so Drautos finally grabbed her wrists and made her stop. She would only hurt herself. "Y/N! If we don't get out of here, you'll die too! Is that what you want?!" Y/N sobbed loudly, completely distraught and shocked that Cor was no longer alive. "Who tells such lies?! Cor doesn't just die for no reason!" So now she would never be able to lie in his arms again? Never again be able to feel his skin on hers? His kisses and his touches would only be a memory? "I just got this message a few minutes ago. The men who were on a mission with him can confirm it." "No... no, that can't be..." When the young woman made no move, Drautos grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but you're not going to die today either!" The young woman let the officer hug her, but his words gave her no comfort. How could she handle the death of her beloved Cor? Drautos looked at the young woman after he had moved away from her a bit. His hands still rested on her arms. "I gave Cor my word to protect you! And I will!" He reached for her hand and pulled her with him. If he had to, he would throw her over his shoulder to get her out of this building, but the young woman simply let Drautos lead her, because in the end, she didn't care what would happen to her. Drautos walked down the long corridor and in his mind things were happening that should not be. Things that should not be! He had already made the big mistake of lying to Y/N about Cor. Cor was still alive, Drautos was convinced of that, and he was on his way here to bring Y/N out of the capital. But Drautos was faster than the king's guard and may the gods forgive him, but he desired someone else's wife and this obsession was unbearable for him.

♦♦♦♦

Actually, she should get herself to safety. Yes, actually she should live on, but she just couldn't bring herself to leave Insomnia and without Cor, she didn't want to go anyway. She did not believe that he was dead. Y/N felt that he was still alive! And she knew he was on his way to her. But Drautos told her that Cor would not return. Why would he lie to her? During the whole car ride, she silently looked out the window and all felt pain as all the memories of her time together with Cor flooded her mind. Drautos drove on unperturbed, but every now and then, his eyes wandered over to her and he knew what he had done with his lie. But that was exactly how he wanted her to be, so that she would build trust in him, so that he would become the center in her shattered world and then, she would finally be his. Drautos was a patient man in many things, but as far as his passion for Y/N was concerned, it was a terrible enemy to his patience. "Where are we going?" "To Lestallum. There you will be safe!" Y/N said nothing in reply, for in the end she did not care. Not only had she lost Cor, but she had been driven from her home. By a power-hungry Niflheimer who was forcefully taking the kingdom of Lucis. The farther they went from Insomnia, the quieter it became. In Lestallum, there was no trace of the terrible attack on the kingdom. But the people in that city had felt the violent tremors and they were worried about the neighboring country. At some point Drautos brought the car to a halt, but Y/N made no move. Sighing, the officer turned to the beautiful woman and looked at her anxiously. "Come on, Y/N. You should rest and try to get some sleep. Do you want me to send for a doctor?" "No," was her curt reply, but she did not turn her gaze to him. Drautos sighed again, but got out of the car and went around to the passenger side to open the door for the young woman. When he held out his hand to her, she looked up at him and her expression was full of sadness. Her eyes swollen and red from the salty tears she had shed. "Let me be there for you, Y/N," he said in a soft voice and Y/N seemed to hesitate for a moment, but finally she grabbed his hand and got out of the car.

♦♦♦♦

"Sir! Over here, sir!" Cor was shocked by the violence reflected before his eyes. So many victims lay under the rubble and the only thing he could think about right now was Y/N and his king. "Where is the king? Is he safe?!" But Cor was disappointed in this regard. "He... he's dead, sir..." "My gods, no..." Cor sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and thus wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Goddammit! Those bastards!" It was hard to believe that King Regis was no longer alive. How could this have happened? Where were his bodyguards? Where was Drautos? Cor himself had not been able to be with him, for the king had sent him on a mission, and yet, Cor blamed himself terribly for that. For 29 years now, he had been a member of the King's Guard to protect his king, but today, on this fateful day, he had failed. "Where is Y/N? Have you taken her to safety?!" His concern for the young woman was enormous, for he had been unable to reach her by phone and he could only hope that she was not among the victims. "Sir, she went with Officer Drautos earlier!" Cor had no idea what Drautos had done and what his true intentions were regarding Y/N. "Do you have any idea where Drautos might have taken Y/N? Have you had a chance to speak with him?" "No, I'm sorry sir! Have you not tried to reach him by calling him?" "I can't get through to him or Y/N!" said Cor as he held up his smartphone a bit, but the wireless network was completely down. "When did they leave?" Cor put his smartphone back in his jacket pocket while waiting for more information from the soldier. "About an hour ago, sir!" A soft sigh slipped across Cor's lips when he heard that. Lestallum was not far from here and a safe place. There was nothing left for the commander to do but search Lestallum for her, and he hoped he would find her as soon as possible. In the meantime, Cor tried to reach the two of them by phone, but Insomnia was just one more dead zone. "Damn..." But before Cor would start searching for his girlfriend, he wanted to check on his king one last time and say goodbye. So he set himself in motion. "Take care of the injured! Make sure and look for any other survivors! Go!" "Sir! Yes, sir!"

♦♦♦♦

"I don't believe Cor is dead..." "I wish he were still alive, Y/N. But..." Drautos lied shamelessly to her face and it was getting easier for him, but she seemed convinced that Cor was still alive. "Y/N, you're exhausted and you've been through a lot. Why don't you go lie down? And I'll get you something to eat?" But Y/N wouldn't hear of it. She was far too upset to retire. "No, Drautos." "Okay." He headed for the door, and before leaving the room, he turned to her once more. "I'll be in the room next door if you need anything." With that, he left the young woman alone in the hotel room. The moment Drautos left the room, she burst into tears again. Her heart was bleeding because something inside her had died. How could she go on living like this without her soul mate? Cor was her everything. He couldn't just be dead! Suddenly, the vibrating of the smartphone drew the young woman's attention. Drautos had left his phone on the table and suddenly the thought crept into her mind that this call was meant for her. Or maybe it was just the little spark of hope inside her that told her so. Finally Y/N decided to take the smartphone and when she read the name on the display, her heart almost stopped in shock. Cor Leonis. Immediately she picked up the call and she was already afraid that it was not her Love who was talking to her, but one of his men. "Drautos? Drautos, can you hear me?! Where are you?" It was his voice! It was Cor speaking on the other end of the line. Not a word left the young woman's pretty lips at first. "Drautos! Damn it, can you hear me?" "Cor..." "Y/N?!" She had sensed from the beginning that Cor was still alive! Y/N was immensely relieved and this time, it was tears of joy she shed. "You're alive! It's really you!" Cor frowned a bit in confusion, wondering where she would even get the idea that he was dead. "Y/N! Are you all right?" Cor was driving through the streets at a fast speed, probably way over the limit, but he didn't care because he wanted to be with Y/N. "Yes! I'm fine, darling!" "Where are you, Y/N? Where did Drautos take you?" It suddenly became quiet on the phone, as Y/N wondered why Drautos had told her about Cor's death. From a safe source his words had come, Drautos had claimed. She frowned as she replayed Drautos' words in her mind. What possessed him to lie to her like this? Something told her that he had done this on purpose. That bad feeling she had had from the very beginning when she had gotten into the car with Drautos had been a warning. "Y/N! Y/N, are you still there?" "Drautos told me you were dead." "What? What did he say?" Judging from his tone, he didn't like that fact at all. He pushed the stick into fifth gear a little harder than he would have liked, while pushing the gas pedal even more unrestrained. "He said one of your men informed him..." "None of my men did anything like that! I don't know why he would tell you something like that, but I don't like it at all! Where are you, Y/N?" "I'm in Lestallum. I..." The next moment the door to her room opened and Drautos stood at the door, seeing that the young woman was holding his phone. Y/N gave the officer a disregarding look as she finished the following words. "I'm waiting for you at the Hotel Leville, Cor!" Drautos gasped when he heard that name. He had blown his cover and the young woman did not seem pleased by it...

Next chapter is coming soon...

[narrators-journal]

For fics, maybe some Eikichi x Miyabi, set in the future where they live together, they’ve been doing better with their self image issues and maybe some slightly spicy but not explicit NSFW body worship and them appreciating each other?

I’m realizing, I am not too sure what makes something body worship? But I’ve taken melatonin, and today’s been hard, so I’m not putting that much thought into it, lol. I hope this is wholesome, and a proper amount of gently spicy. I tried to keep it cute, and to throw in some teasing and implications to match.

Miyabi smiled slightly as she watched her husband, Eikichi Mishina, through the livingroom window. His dark blue hair, usually meticulously styled and gelled, untouched today, his headphones on so he could lose himself in his chores playlist, his vampire-pale skin finally able to get some sunlight thanks to the stagnant, humid heat that had his shirt tossed onto the lawn chair on their porch. He was a sight to see, for sure.

Granted, despite his popularity as an indie singer, not everyone would’ve agreed with Miyabi’s opinion. Eikichi was tall, his eyes were an unnerving shade of red, his skin always seemed oddly pale, and, despite his dances and high energy performances, Michel had a healthy amount of soft weight on his body. Which, to an outsider, who was fed the usual expectations of buff, body builder celebrities, would likely be a dissapointment. Yet, Miyabi knew her husband’s history, and just how hard he’d worked to let himself soften even a little bit.

Plus, all it took was a small glance at her own full bodied figure to remind her that she had no real room to complain. Because, while yes, she’d lost a good amount of weight from her highschool years, her body still wasn’t back to the physique she’d had in junior high. So, according to those same insane standards, she was far worse off than her husband. But, the social opinion’s demand for perfectly slim, youthful girls with the curves of a porn star without even a hint of a belly roll seemed to entirely miss Eikichi.

When he saw Miyabi, he still saw that beautiful trend-setter that had a flock of men at her feet. When he saw the stretchmarks left from her highschool weight gain, his eyes would light up with the same lust a man might show for a model. Every offer of the chance to see her undressed had Eikichi’s brain frying like a wet electronic. He never hid how much he adored her figure, no matter what age or diet did to her.

On a bit of a whim, she left the living room window to step out into the summer heat. Her husband obliviously focused on sweeping the dust and leaves away, his back to her as he hummed along with his music. So, Miyabi stepped closer to run her hand up along his spine to make the tall man squirm. “Ayo! Mimi!” He squawked, his headphones all but flung off of his head with the speed his head turned to look back at the smaller woman. “What? All I did was touch you.” She said, before her other hand joined in on the exploration of Eikichi’s soft skin. Down to his sides, where she squeezed the muffin top his pants created. Meanwhile, her husband stammered and tripped over his words as he argued, “Well, yes. But, we’re outside, you can’t go groping me.” “I’m not groping you,” She sang, her arms now snaked around him from behind, the soft dust of pink on his cheeks a welcome sight to the ebony-haired woman. “I’m just appreciating your figure, songbird~”

That only seemed to cause the singer’s cheeks to turn a redder hue, but he also didn’t stop her hands from sliding over his body. Only really able to muster, “Might I ask what brought on this sudden...’appreciation’?” to get a hum from the woman, a shudder drawn out when she kissed and nipped his back. “I just enjoyed the view of you shirtless and doing chores. Not much else.”

That was it. That was her only real reason for having braved the stagnant, humid heat of the summer. But, as his wife, she knew she didn’t need much of a reason to ghost her lips or finger tips at the edge of his waistband. Though, what she didn’t expect, was for the pretty man to spin around in her arms, the broom and porch chores forgotten in favor of scooping her up. “Alright, that’s it. Come on, Mimi.” “Woah! Wait, you’ve got shit to do, Eikichi!” She argued through a squeal of laughter, her own cheeks warmed now, “Yeah, but you’re a priority~”

[snowhashiraamiya]

KYOJUROU RENGOKU X ORIGINAL CHARACTER (OC) FANFICTION

Tornado of Opposites

WARNING: This fanfiction may consist of topics and scenes inappropriate for readers under 18.

Consists of: Sexual Trauma, Assault, PTSD, Cursing, Bodily injuries, Death, Suicide attempt.

⚠️VIEW WITH CAUTION⚠️

➡️THERE WILL BE WARNINGS BEFORE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE VIEW BEFORE CONTINUING⬅️

PLEASE BE AWARE: Since this story takes place 4 years before Tanjirou’s final selection, Muichirou will NOT be present within the first 5 chapters.

⚠️WARNING: This chapter consists of bullying, slight tension⚠️

Chapter 4: Show me what you can do!

The two opposites continued chatting until the meeting started, each hashira bowing before master ubuyashiki. He smiled and his wife Amane looked over them and smiled.

“Is everyone here?” He started, amane nodded, “Yes Master, they are.” Kagaya hummed, “Good afternoon, my children. Today we bring in a new hashira, one I have not come across in all my years. The technique of Snow Breathing. Ms Chiminosa.”

I sat up and moved forward next to Amane, my heart beating loudly in my chest. Kyojurou and Yuri were smiling brightly, Tengen giving a thumbs up. “The snow breather will not be taking any tsugoku’s until 5 months promoted as hashira.” I nodded slowly as my stomach cramped with knots of nervousness.

The meeting practically sped by and before long? We were dismissed. I walked down the steps, my heart fluttering in nervousness. “Glad to see you’ve been promoted.” I turned back and looked up at the flame hashira, my eyes widening in surpise. I bowed slightly, “Thank you..” He chuckled, his bright eyes gleaming with appreciation and passion, “No need to be formal. We’re already on a first name basis.”

I nodded and he walked by my side as I walked to the pond, sitting on the smooth, cement bench, with a sakura tree hanging over it. The peaceful silence set in stone as Kyojurou sat next to the red haired woman, his heart pounding, he wasn’t used to being so nervous around someone, but he couldn’t help being so drawn to her.

Perhaps he was just reading into it a bit too much.

“Kyojurou?”

“Hmm?” He looked down into her nervous but beautiful baby blue eyes, “What is it?” I looked down and messed with my fingers, “Perhaps, you, yuri, tengen, mitsuri, shinobu and I could eat together sometime?” The blonde smiled brightly and unconsciously took her hands and leaned close, “That sounds like a wonderful time!”

A little.. too close.

My eyes widened as I felt his warm calloused hands gently take mine, I smiled softly and closed my eyes, avoiding his gaze out of nervousness.

“HEY NEWBIE!”

I practically jumped at the harsh loud voice, much different than Kyojurou’s tone, 99% of the time. Looking up, I locked eyes with the wind hashira. “Ah, Mr Shinazugawa.” The white haired man gritted his teeth, “So a new hashira huh? You don’t look like much to me. Why don’t you show me what you can do?”

My eyes widened at his sudden but fierce challenge to a spar between the two of us, “Sanemi! Don’t overwhelm the newcomer.” The water hashira Giyuu replied, standing behind him. “Hey! I just want to see if our rankings are still decent is all. Making sure she didn’t cheat her way in.”

“Sanemi.” My eyes widened and I looked back and saw Kyojurou rising to his feet, “That’s no way to treat anyone for that matter.” Shinazugawa grinned, “And? All I’m challenging her to is a simple..” He looked down at me, “friendly..” and leaned closer to my face, “spar.” His eyes darkened as he said the last word, my heart was pounding at his closeness.

Rengoku then leaned over the woman and put his hand on the wind hashira’s shoulder and pushed him back slightly, “Keep your distance. I will not say it again.” Giyuu, even tengen looked shocked at the sudden protectiveness that came over the flame hashira’s stance. Perhaps he was not only protective towards women, but Amiya in particular.

My heart was racing as I sat between the two of them, “Both of you, calm down.” Tomioka snapped, “Oh yeah, what are you gonna do, Tomioka?” The dark haired male crossed his arms, “You could’ve asked her a completely different way. She’s one of us, so treat her like a hashira.”

“Tch. Not until she proves it.” Sanemi snapped and looked down at me again, “Tomorrow. At noon. My dojo.” I looked down, “As you wish.” Rengoku watched the white haired male turn and walk away, before he sat down next to her again, “You really don’t have to fight him. He’s just stubborn.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just a spar, but I appreciate you standing up for me.” I replied softly, Kyojurou smiled, “Of course.” I nodded, after continuing to talk with Giyuu and Rengoku, I made my way to my freshly modeled estate, determined to go above the wind hashira, within the coming hours.

Shorter chapter, hey my birthday is tomorrow ❤️

[venusoppositesaturn]

merry christmas, another suicide note

I’ve spent every single day since that accidental overdose wondering why I didn’t just die. I draft some iteration of a suicide note every single December, right in time for the holidays. A fucked up present for myself. The loneliness that I’m somehow accustomed to year round becomes too much to bear and then I write out all my pain in my notes app or a google document, cry for a few hours, and lie to myself that “next year will be my year” and then force myself to live another day. We’re on the 10th “next year” in a row now. But I’m always too much of a coward to do it myself. That’s why this year, the suicide note draft feels so much worse. I could have died. I almost had an out. I wouldn’t have had to write one of these fucking things. I could have just been gone. No drawn out list of embarrassing reasons to explain to people why I can’t live this way anymore, no quiet agony over how to do it and who I should task with the miserable job of finding my body, it would have been so easy. Just foam at the mouth and everything going black. A perfect end. A final fuck up for a series of fuck ups for 30 years.

Fuck. 30 years. I’ve been wasting my life for three fucking decades. I’ve been sitting around with my hands in my lap waiting for someone to save me. For some cosmic lightning strike to fix me and set me on the right path. A chorus of angels descending down to tell me that the suffering is over, and that happy days are ahead. All that sad delusional thinking has only put more dirt over my coffin, burying myself alive in a world of debt and fear and self pity. I didn’t go outside for 3 days straight this week because I didn’t have the money to make myself look passable, and I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing me when I look like this. When I was little I used to squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I could, cross my fingers, and pray that when I opened them my eyes would be blue, my hair would be blonde, and I’d be beautiful. It never happened. Just like waiting for that magic moment where I’d suddenly figure out who or what I was meant to be, I never grew into anything beautiful. I only got better at hiding my hideousness and pretending it wasn’t clinging to my hunched back at all times. I spent my 20s chasing after men who wouldn’t even hold my hand when I asked, but took every part of my body over and over without guilt or shame. Men who watched me cry with twisted faces of disgust, like I was some rotten meat or defective toy. Men who went on to love and worship and respect the next woman who entered their life.

I wish I lived the life that people think I live. That I’m always out at bars or parties with a great group of friends who love and support me. Who call when I’m sick. Who show up when I need them to. Not the person who sits in her home alone with her cat and can go days without speaking to another human being face-to-face. Who almost throws up on herself in bed because she’s too sick and in pain from a migraine to do anything. Who tries to ask anyone that she can text for help, only to be met with a series of “so sorry I hope you feel better.” But I’m selfish for wanting an out? I’m selfish for being exhausted of trying everything I could to change things? I refuse to justify my existence with all the ways I did try. All the ways I tried to dig myself out of a hole that I dug into out of self-preservation. I was drowning for years and screaming for any one to come pull me out. But that’s the thing, right? No one's coming. If you’re lucky - you find someone or something to live for. You figure out how to swim. But if you don’t, you just keep taking in water. Year after year, until it’s just your eyes above the water line and you just accept it. I want to be at the acceptance stage now. I want to accept that this is over. I want to stop kicking my arms and my legs and feet in panic. Every single day since November 19th I regret not just letting those drugs hit my system with full force and doing what I have been too scared to do for a very long time. I could have opened my mouth and swallowed all the water and sunk. I love my friends and my family. I love my cat with all my heart. But I also know with as much certainty as the sun rising that my absence in their lives will not change things. I am not needed.

There is not one part of who I am that is responsible for anyone or anything. Which is all I ever wanted. I wanted to know so badly what it was like to be needed. To have a family. To be a mother. To feel safe and secure enough to live my life and plan for the future instead of trying to survive a single day. I can’t force anyone to love me. I can’t force anyone to see the value in me. I just pray that if there is another life that I can please get that chance. That I can finally feel what it’s like to not feel empty every day. To wake up with purpose. I pray that I have the strength to finally let this one go.

[angeliki8]

The Arranged FaceTime (Proposals)

The life-changing decision of choosing your partner, the person that you will share the rest of your life with. How are people even able to make such a critical decision? They must really feel the extreme pressure and their hearts must race. What about those who are never able to find that special someone? Rachel’s parents gave her a three month deadline to find a man or else she would be forced into an arranged marriage with the man that she dreaded, - the one and only, Chad from back home. Thus, Rachel decided to explore her other three options and her parents agreed. 

The other three men - Brad, Brett, and Blake had shown intense interest in winning Rachel’s heart over. They finally gain the opportunity to attempt to accomplish this through a FaceTime call arranged including Rachel, Rachel’s mother, Rachel’s father, Brad, Brett, and Blake. It was finally time and flickering images of the three potential matchmakers appeared on Rachel's screen. Brad’s overachieving confidence, his expensive blue Tom Ford suit that had to be dry cleaned due to a situation that is better remained unsaid and his well-groomed blonde hair made Rachel drawn to him during the call. Brad took a big breath of courage and started elaborating on why he would make an excellent partner. He talked about his love for his big, beautiful farm in the countryside that he inherited - along with the 2 horses, 6 pigs, 8 cows and 4 sheep that were gifted to him by his fellow relatives. His favorite horse would always be Steve even if he would not admit it but that is besides the point. Rachel was in shock, she could not believe that Brad was a farmer who spent his entire life milking cows everyday and was excited to share that with Rachel. As sweet as his intentions were, Rachel feared that she would not fit into that life. Then there was Brett, the FaceTime call was benefiting him...well...at least up until he mentioned something about his Nan being extremely joyful to the potential of Rachel moving in with them. That pretty much ruined any chance he had. Then there was Blake. Oh, sweet Blake. He was the one with the extreme humorous side to him. His strategy to make Rachel fall in love with him mainly consisted of just one thing - jokes. Luck was unfortunately not with him as the FaceTime call kept getting cut off right when he was about to tell the punchline which truth be told was probably not that funny in the first place. The FaceTime call cutting off made it ten times worse as sometimes Rachel’s parents were unsure of whether he was legitimately attempting to make some kind of discriminatory jokes or whether they just kept misinterpreting him and it was the internet connection that should have been blamed instead.

Only a few seconds passed since the ending of the FaceTime call but that was the little time Rachel needed to have this staggering realization. She should not accept and leave her fate up to her loving. but severely controlling parents. She is an independent 21 year old woman that should be able to take her life into her own hands. She wondered, why do I even need to get married? What if I want to focus and cherish other great gifts of life. She continued contemplating as she was sitting in her red, wooden chair in her bedroom. Life is about so much more after all. Even though she certainly did not want to disappoint her parents or go against them, she realized that sometimes one has to be selfish, one has to choose themselves above those around them. Life is all about these hard decisions and what you prioritize.