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gracevanpelt · 2 years ago

Text

gunslinger

Pairing: Jack Daniels x m!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re not quite sure what you’re looking for but you find it in an unexpected place and in an unexpected man.

Notes: This was supposed to be a Kinktober 2022 fic I never got around to writing. But it hasn’t left my mind for more than a year, so I had to get it out there. Sometimes good things take time. I’m also running out of creative thank you-notes to leave for Dani @alexturner who read part of this fic while she was on holiday (!!!!). I will say that I could never write a fic like this if I didn’t have her as a writing partner because she always keeps pushing me to get over myself.

***

There are only men at the bar. Big ones, more than six feet tall, laughing loudly. Old ones, sitting in corners, taking swigs from beer bottles. Young ones, crowding around pool tables, daring each other to do things that become more and more ridiculous the drunker they get. Red-faced, cruel ones, who are just there to pick a fight, a knife never more than a quick flick of their wrists away.

You don’t belong with any of them. You quietly sit in a corner like you’re old, but your young age betrays you. Your gaze never lingers on the cruel ones – they’re like dogs, eye contact is seen as provocation. The young ones, who should be your crowd, are too crass, too loud. And you wish one of the big ones would notice you, if only to talk to you.

When the door opens and lets in some of that dreadful winter cold, your gaze wanders over to the people coming in, but it’s more of the same: two young men, cheerfully greeting their friends, bawling out insults as endearments. You shrink back into the shadows, hoping they won’t notice you.

It’s not that you don’t want to fit in. You tried, but it just didn’t work out for you. And now you’re alone, an easy target, should any of them notice you. It’s not the life you’ve imagined for yourself, but it’s easier than pretending to be someone you’re not.

Two of the young ones have started shoving each other, grabbing each other by the collars of their shirts, raising their fists. Their friends around them cheer them on with a chant that gets faster and faster, more and more slurred. You want to ignore them, but they take up so much space. One punches the other, sends him stumbling backwards. The one who just took the hit wipes blood from his mouth and chin, an ugly grin on his face, before he attacks, wraps his hands around his friend’s throat.

The bartender intervenes with a shout, shotgun resting against his hip. The friends break apart, their faces pale. The two who got into the fight have to leave, the rest are allowed to stay. You take another swig from your beer bottle.

“Hey, partner.”

You jump as a man lets himself fall into the empty stool at your table, and as he props one foot up against the wood, his spurs jingle as he does. You don’t reply, just watch him from the corner of your eye. A big felt cowboy hat is casting most of his face in shadow. He’s neither young nor old, he’s not particularly big, there are no cruel lines around his mouth. He’s an outsider, just like you.

Too late you nod at him.

“What is a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” the man asks without looking at you.

Your face heats up as you fix your gaze to the table top in front of you. The young ones have started singing a particularly crude song that should be impossible to ignore, but all you can hear is your own breathing.

“No need to look like a deer caught in the headlights,” the man says, slapping your shoulder amicably. Then he extends his hand to you. “I’m Jack.”

You shake it, introduce yourself.

“And here I was thinkin’ you ain’t got no idea how to talk,” Jack teases.

“I can talk, sir,” you reply with an unsure smile.

“Ain’t no need to call me sir,” Jack says with a laugh.

You wish your face wouldn’t feel so hot.

“You new in town?” Jack asks, then looks at you in surprise when you shake your head. “How come I’ve never seen you around then?”

“I don’t go out much, si-” You bite your tongue, but he catches the last word and raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t go out much,” you repeat.

You really don’t, because you’ve never seen Jack before and you think you’d remember if you had. You’d remember those brown eyes that fix you with an unrelenting gaze, that handsome face, that easy swagger with which Jack moves around. You’d remember what it feels like to have his attention on you, like everything around you just stops. The young men have been quiet for a long time now.

“What made you come out tonight?” Jack wants to know.

You shrug. “Nothing in particular. A hunch.”

He laughs, and suddenly all you want to do is make him laugh again. “Anything in particular you’re hopin’ to find?”

Your gut tightens. You shake your head.

Jack lowers his foot to the floor and leans forward, both elbows propped up on the table. “I was lookin’ for somethin’,” he confides in you. “And I think I might have found it.”

You don’t know what to make of that, so you stare at your drink.

“Not much of a talker,” Jack notes with a nod.

You can’t help but smile. You can’t help but feel emboldened by this cowboy’s attention on you. “Would you like me to be?”

“I prefer to do the talkin’,” Jack replies.

“So you’ve come here to talk?”

He smirks. “No.”

It’s just two small sounds but they hang in the air between you, laden with meaning. You don’t quite know what to make of them, if you’re understanding them correctly or if you’re just hoping for something he isn’t saying. You could ask, but that’s not something people like you do, not in a town like this anyway. He’s a mere stranger and yet he is so open with you. That has to count for something, right?

You tread carefully. “I’m also not here for the talkin’.”

“I know, pretty boy, or you wouldn’t be sittin’ here all by your lonesome.”

You glance at the young men still gathered around the pool tables, their faces hard with concentration, with aversion, with hate. One of them pulls his shirt over his head, exposing a soft belly and a hard chest. Your neck feels hot suddenly, this time from the adrenaline – another one is shoving the shirtless one hard in what appears to be another violent altercation.

Jack follows your gaze and huffs. “You don’t wanna be part of that crowd.”

“I don’t,” you agree.

Jack watches them for a while, curious, like a child at the zoo watching the lions, morbid fascination written all over his face. “I used to be just like ‘em, you know.” For the first time there is no hint of swagger in his voice. “Long time ago.”

You try to imagine him as a young man, cocksure, full of himself. You try to imagine him as someone unkind, violent. It doesn’t work. “I don’t believe you,” you say.

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he pushes himself out of his chair. “Don’t worry, I still ain’t one of the nice ones.”

He begins to walk away, half empty beer bottle left behind on the table. You panic, thinking you’ve done something wrong, wishing you’d kept your mouth shut. But he isn’t walking toward the exit, and when he glances back at you, briefly, eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat, you shudder.

You stand up and follow him.

It’s not like you came here looking for something like this, for this kind of pleasure, but … you’d be a fool not to find out where this is going. Your heart picks up pace when you walk past those young men who are still busy growling at each other, shoving each other. One of them glances at you, a sneer on his face, but you draw back your shoulders and look straight ahead. They leave you alone.

The bathroom is brightly lit – white floors, white walls, everything is reflecting light. You squint, wait for your eyes to adjust, only to discover that the room is empty. Did you make a mistake? Were you so distracted by those men that you didn’t see Jack slip out the back door? Did you assume …

No, you can see his boots peeking out from under one of the stalls. Your throat is completely dry and your heart hammers so loudly you can feel it vibrate through your body. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, but there is something about Jack that makes you feel like you know nothing at all.

You exhale sharply, then walk toward the stall, your steps sounding surer than you feel. You pull open the door and there he is, leaning against the wall, hands in his jeans pockets, thumbs hooked into the belt loops, head lowered, hat obstructing his face. But when he hears the door open and sees you try to squeeze into the tight space, he raises his head, a cocksure smirk on his face.

“You had me guessin’ there for a moment, partner.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you toward him. The kiss is rough, hungry. His mustache is scraping your lips, your cheeks, it makes the skin on your neck prickle when Jack sucks a possessive mark into it, just above your collarbone. Jack tastes of beer, he tastes of cigarettes, he tastes of gunpowder and danger, and your knees buckle when he tips back his hat and grabs you by the back of your neck to kiss you even deeper. You put your hands on his chest to brace yourself, so he pushes you against the opposite wall of the stall with such force the door sways lightly in its hinges.

You suck in a deep breath as you see him standing there, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, still that damn, cocksure smile on his lips. He takes a step toward you, then another, spurs jingling, watching as the expectation on your face builds and builds. Was the bandana around his neck already this loose when you were sitting at the table outside? Was his shirt always this open, revealing some bright dusting on his chest? Did you not allow yourself to notice these things? Or are they new?

Jack leans against you with his whole weight, the bulge in his jeans pushing against your own, and you gasp. He groans, eyelids fluttering shut, and then he kisses you again, slower, but just as demanding. You allow yourself to let down your guard too, close your eyes as well, and get lost in the hungry licks of his tongue, in the way he forces you to give more and more with every brush of his lips. You’ve been kissed before but never like this. Never like they valued you as a person and not just for the things you could give them.

Jack pushes a hand between your bodies and cups you through your jeans. You push yourself into his hold, growling into the kiss, and he responds with a choked sound you can feel against your lips in his exhale. He lets go of you, but searches for your hand, grabs your wrist, and places your fingers against his belt buckle, the metal cool to the touch.

You open your eyes when he says, “I want you to touch me, handsome.”

Maybe you look stupid when you nod, your mouth hanging open, your eyes unfocused. But Jack rewards you with another kiss, then lets go of your wrist, allowing you to do this at your own pace.

Your fingers shake as you try to unbuckle Jack’s belt, but you manage somehow between him leaving another mark behind your ear and him whispering a filthy encouragement. He presses himself into your palm when you pull down the zipper (he’s not wearing underwear you realize with a jolt), and the feeling of the size of him makes your toes curl in anticipation. Before you can pull his cock out of his pants, he pushes himself off you and takes a few steps backwards, so he’s leaning against the opposite wall of the stall again. A bent finger bids you to follow.

It has to be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, taking those few steps toward him at a steady pace, without your legs giving way and you falling to your knees in front of him. He waits for you patiently, even when you take a moment to glance down at the coarse, dark hair peeking out of his jeans. And when you look back up at him, that cocksure grin has turned dangerous.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

You almost chuckle at the cheesiness of that question … almost. Because he doesn’t wait for an answer – he pulls his cock out of his pants and gives it a slow stroke. You feel your mouth go dry at that sight, as you take in its full size for the first time. Your own cock strains against your pants as you watch Jack’s thumb glide over the tip, hear a small, relieved groan.

There’s another feeling now, higher up in your stomach, as everything narrows in on the sight in front of you, yet expands to everything around you and you realize where you are and what you’re doing. The man in front of you is older, clearly much more experienced, you’re in a public place where anyone could come in at any second. Those realizations make you freeze and you just stand there in front of Jack, heart racing in your chest, a stale taste on your tongue. You can’t do this.

Jack cups your cheek, runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “Hey,” he says. “Is this your first time?”

You shake your head and exhale a trembling breath.

“Do you want to touch me?” he asks next.

“I do,” you assure him, voice deep and unrecognizable, “but –”

“There ain’t no but,” Jack interrupts. “It’s either yes or no.”

His thumb rests against your bottom lip now, and he feels you take a steadying breath. You could walk away right now, forget all about this, forget him. He wouldn’t be angry, he wouldn’t insist, but you’d regret it for the rest of your life.

“Yes,” you answer, your voice so steady you could have fooled yourself.

Jack lets his hand drop between the two of you and closes his fingers around your wrist. “There ain’t no reason to be nervous, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips, “if you fuck like you kiss.”

He scrapes his teeth across your bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth, bites down hard enough you feel a sharp sensation, somewhere between pleasure and pain. It’s just a distraction, you realize, once your blood has stopped boiling – your hand is wrapped around his hard, heavy cock, and his hand is wrapped around yours.

“Start slow, angel,” he instructs, moving your hand up and then down along his length. “Yeah, like this.” His breath catches in his throat as he lets go of your hand and you keep it moving like he showed you.

You feel his breath against your lips and cheeks; short, shallow pants, a hitch when you brush your thumb across his tip. It’s hot in your little stall – you feel your shirt stick to your back, see small beads of sweat form on Jack’s brow. His eyes are open, roaming over your face – lips, eyes, top of your head, down to your lips again –, as if he can’t decide what to focus on, as if he’s not seeing you at all, is lost in your touch. You grip him harder and watch the tendons in his neck twitch, watch as he swallows hard. A flush creeps up from his chest to his throat, and when he thrusts into your hand, you feel your face heat up too.

You brace your free hand against the wall next to Jack’s head, lean in closer until your forehead rests against his. His lips find yours again, and he kisses you slowly this time, as if he’s trying to savor your taste. The only sound you can hear is your hand moving up and down his cock, and both of you panting into each other’s mouths, him trying to spur you on, you feeling like there is too much air in your lungs that you can’t get out.

Jack pulls back first. “Not bad,” he teases, “but I’m curious to find out what else you can do with that mouth of yours.”

You imagine yourself on your knees in front of him, his hand resting on the back of your neck, forcing you to take so much of him you’d gag, fucking your throat. You have to adjust your cock in your pants at that thought, the brief touch making you shudder. If Jack forced you down on the floor right now, you wouldn’t resist.

“Don’t slow down,” he pants.

Your focus shifts back to him and your hand that has slowed down, the light grip barely strong enough to make him feel anything. At first, you want to apologize, but then you notice a fire in his eyes, a challenge.

“C’mon, faster,” Jack urges you, thrusting into your grip so hard his tip brushes against your pants, leaving a small, wet stain.

You don’t do as you’re told.

His hand brushes yours, but then he changes his mind and his fingers find your throat, closing around it. His smirk has turned into a snarl.

“Faster,” he growls.

“Is that how you like it?” you ask, slightly increasing speed.

Jack squeezes your throat tightly, not enough to obstruct the airflow, hard enough to make you groan with pleasure. “Be a good boy for me and I might touch you,” he says, his eyes now hazy with lust.

Something in your brain short-circuits. No one has ever talked to you like that, you have never wanted anyone more. Your eyes fall shut when Jack leaves another mark on your neck, this time high up where everyone will be able to see it. Pride floods you and you give him what he wants in turn, your hand gliding easily now as you spread his pre-cum with your palm.

“Yeah,” Jack breathes against your neck. “Keep doing that.”

Your mouth is completely dry, your face is blazing with heat. You keep your eyes closed, afraid to look at him, afraid you’ll come untouched if you do. His praise washes over you like a hot shower after a long day, and you want to hear more.

“Impressive what a little persuasion can do,” Jack mumbles, and you feel him run his thumb over your bottom lip again.

It only takes you a split second to decide to open your mouth and suck the digit inside, swirling your tongue around the tip.

Jack’s breathing stops, then starts back up again, hard, labored, like he has been running for miles and miles.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you finally open your eyes.

His gaze is fixed on your lips, on his finger disappearing between them, and you know he’s thinking about his cock in its place, imagining what your mouth would look like stretched open like that. Then his eyes find yours and his grip on your throat tightens.

“Oh, you’re a dangerous man,” he says.

You pick up speed, the wet sounds of your hand against his cock more insistent now. With another wet sound, he pulls his thumb out from between your lips and closes his hand around your wrist.

“I want to savor it.” His voice is so deep and breathless now, it’s nothing but a quiet rumble.

You slow down.

“Tighten your grip,” he orders next.

You wrap your fingers around him harder, on the verge of cutting into the soft flesh.

A sigh of relief from Jack. “Good boy. You’re a quick study, I like that.”

“I like the way you talk to me.” Your throat burns – it feels like you haven’t spoken in days. You feel Jack twitch in your hand at hearing the gravel in your voice.

Jack smirks, and you’re only now realizing what a dangerous thing that smirk is. “You can grip me harder,” he says, and you comply immediately, even before Jack finishes talking. “Good,” he says. Then adds, “I knew you’d fuck like you kiss.”

The strain between your legs is almost too much to bear.

His hand around your neck tightens, he runs his finger over the coarse skin. “Some confidence would look good on you, pretty boy.”

“You chose me, didn’t you?” you ask, giving Jack’s cock a rough jerk.

His eyelids flutter shut. “Fuck!” You watch him swallow, see his Adam’s apple bob, see the tendons in his neck jump. “You have a pretty face,” he finally manages to say.

Your reply leaves your mouth on its own – you have no way to stop it, even if you wanted to. “Don’t you think it would look even prettier with your cum all over it?”

A hand at the back of your neck, Jack captures your lips in a searing kiss. It takes your breath away, the way it feels like he won’t stop until he has devoured you. Until you realize – he’s stifling his own moans, desperate growls and whimpers, as he spills over your hand and onto the bathroom floor. You don’t dare to stop, pump him until his hand finds your wrist once more and you feel him soften under your touch.

You’re both panting – Jack from his orgasm, you from pent-up desire. And yet you wish you could stay like this forever, pressed up against his hard body, caught in the space right after you are as close to someone as you could possibly be, when the world is at its softest and most fragile.

“Well done,” Jack finally says, and runs his fingers through your hair.

That small touch sets your entire body on fire. “Please,” you whimper, not caring that you sound desperate.

Jack raises his eyebrow at you in surprise. “I did promise to touch you, didn’t I?” He grabs you through the fabric of your jeans, presses his palm against the bulge there. You don’t mean for it to happen, but you can’t help yourself. You come with a shudder, soaking your underwear with your release. Shame heats up your face as you realize what is happening, how little it took for you to come undone while Jack was always in control of the situation, even with your hand wrapped around his cock.

But … he stares at you not with mocking but in quiet wonder, mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re a marvel, darlin’,” he says and kisses you.

You can’t really tell what happens next, but Jack is opening the door to your stall. It comes as a surprise to you, even though it shouldn’t, but it’s over – you both got what you wanted. Still, seeing him leave makes you feel more disappointed than you have any right to be.

Jack turns around, lifts his hat off his head and drops it onto yours. “Call me,” he says, his cocksure grin back on his face. “I’d like to teach you a thing or two more.”

***

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #gunslinger

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rnm-magic-space-xsd · 11 months ago

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“Ay, no need t’tell me tuwice~.” Debi-chan smirked playfully, with a devilish glint in his eyes. “I’d mo’ than lav ta tickle my bambina.” Debi-chan went on all fours as he slowly approached Shiri closer and closer. Shiri’s eyes grew wide , hands clasped by her modest yet sweetly inviting chest, and both their hearts were fluttering with excitement. The tension in the air and their passion for each other were palpable.

Then, without any warning, Debi-chan pounced on Shiri and fervently and boldly tickled her ribs and waist, straddling her.

“A! Oh my gh-kyahaha!uhahahawakh-ghaheheheh!”

Her yelps and giggles were almost instantenous, but it was so delightful to both Debi-chan’s and JujuBear’s ears.

JujuBear though, felt both adoration and glee at Shiri’s beautiful laughter and yet, he also had this bitter pain gnwaing away at his heart. A wish. No, a core need deepened its’ claws at his entire being; a need to delight his Shiri and make her feel more intense love and pleasure than Debito. He wished to be with Debi, to complete his newfound part as a soldier in Shiri’s tickle army.).

Debi-chan, unaware of Jumin’s emotions as he greedily took in more and more of Shiri’s delightful responses, tickled Shiri’s bare feet as he straddled her and her laughter was now mixed with tears of joy 💗

JujuBear couldn’t take it anymore. JujuBear took his position behind Shiri’s head, cradling the back of her head as he stood on his knees, looking possessively and passionately down at her. “I love you, Shiri. More than anything in the world.” And kissed both her cheeks, her forehead and then. Lips.

“Ah. I see. Jealous, are wieh?” Debi-chan sneered, looking at Juju with a knowing eye. “Well, can’t blame ya. Shiri’s like a sparkling jewel ya wanna stwheal n stare at fo’eva. To trweashure an’ cherwish.”

“Yea. Shiri’s our most precious angel. And I will not let you take away all of her heart and attention, Debi. Shiri’s not just yours, so you better learn your manners, gunner.” Jumin poisonously worded, hugging Shiri’s elegant yet soft torso to him as he eyed Debi straight in the eye.

“Hgeh. Gunner. How simplistic. But better truthful, wild and free than calculated, cold and cunning.”

“What was that, killer?” Jumin seethed at the provocation, glaring hatefully at Debi.

“Whoah whoah! Guys, please! There’s no need to fight with dirty hateful words towards each other!” Shiri instantly felt the need to create a peaceful ground between her two lovers, feeling their sharp poisonous spikes attacking one another’s hearts.

“Um. I think both JujuBear and Debi-chan are precious and lovable as you are.”

“JujuBear learned how to be more cautious, intelligent, mindful and careful with others in his life because of his past. People tried to manipulate and take advantage of him for his looks, wealth and fame.”

“And Debi-chan had to learn how to viciously fight for what’s right and what’s important to him. He had to fend off for himself and his brothers since his parents’ deaths when he was just a kid.”

“…Not to mention that he lost his siblings too. I can’t imagine how painfully heartbreaking it must’ve been for him”

“I believe mutual understanding and friendship, a sense of camaraderie could heal your conflicts with each other!”

“Now! Let’s cuddle it out all three of us. I believe my precious beloveds deserve kisses of love and healing! 😊🍯”

Jumin and Debi-chan eyed each other and sighed.

“A’iight, Amore.”

“Hauh..If you say so, love..”

They both resignedly comforting their previously peeved hearts with Shiri’s comforting calls for peace.

Hugging the two, they repositioned themselves. Shiri was sandwiched by her two lovers. One hand caressing Debi’s cheek behind her, and one on Juju’s cheek in front of her. “You two are my home, my wild ride through this beautiful, colorfully painful and sweet lives together. I cannot imagine myself without you two. So please, learn to get along with each other..okay?”

“But. I’m quite the jealous lover too so..”

Shiri trailed off, eyes lowering their gaze awkwardly and bitterly to the ground.

“Oh? Our Bambina is worried we’d fall for ohne an nuthah n leave ya be’iind? Please, Shiri, Mi Amore. I’d never choose anyone othah than ya.”

“I must confess the same. I’d never find it in my heart to fall in love with anyone else other than you, my Angel Shiri.”

Jumin and Debi’s eyes then both met and in an unspoken resolution they both mutually decided to reach out and kiss Shiri’s cheeks and neck on opposite sides.

Melting their beloved with affection and drunkenness of heartgoo-eingly kisses, delivering all three of them to their private heaven; their hearts emotionally soaring above like doves and crows, harmoniously and with such tenderness, gentleness and freedom.

#Moonlit Longing #🎇🐆The Fire Cheetah & His Moon Panther Amore🌌💗#🎁💗!#my writing #truth or dare

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lythea-creation · 11 months ago

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Broken Toys - Johanna Mason x fem reader (Chapter 24)

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

word count: 2.582

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“Hey, (f/n). Finally you're awake. Took you long enough”, I heard a soft, familiar chuckle.

“Rue?”, I whispered in disbelief.

I opened my eyes and saw her sitting on her bed smiling at me.

I pulled the comfortable blanket off of me and sat up.

We were in our room back in district 11, victor's village.

“What are we doing here?”, I wondered.

“What do you mean? This is our home now. Aren't we supposed to be here?”

I hesitated for a moment. “But Rue. You're … dead.”

She looked at me concerned. “Did you have that nightmare again? Don't worry. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere”, she reassured me.

I stumbled to my feet and enclosed her in a tight embrace. Breathing was feeling impossible right now out of pure relief.

Had it really just been a dream? Another cruel nightmare? I could not quite believe that, but I desperately wanted to.

Rue took my hand and pulled me with her. “Come on! You promised me to climb onto the trees and eat some fruits!”

On the way through the house I noticed unusual silence.

“Rue? Where are Mary and the kids?”

“Visiting somebody I don't know. I volunteered to stay here and look out for you. Just in case you get a panic attack again.”

We skillfully climbed onto a plum tree and Rue picked each of us one.

She handed me mine and bit into hers with a bright smile.

“Delicious!”, she exclaimed happily. “Aren't you going to eat?”, she questioned, her eyes wandering down to the untouched fruit in my hand.

“Rue, you hate plums”, I recalled.

“Do I?”, she replied confused.

“Yeah. When you tried one you couldn't even swallow it.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Seems like I changed my mind.”

“This isn't real, is it? We're not in district 11 and you're not ...”, I could not finish my sentence.

“Why are you so strange since you woke up? Has the nightmare been so terrible?”, she asked worried again.

“No. Stop! Stop it, Rue! I know you aren't alive anymore”, I mumbled, starting to get a headache.

“What are you talking about? I'm right here!”

She was looking at me as if I was insane. Like the others had looked at Johanna in the arena when she had provocatively challenged Snow.

“Where's Johanna?”, I questioned.

“In district 7 of course.”

“What about Seeder?”

“I don't know. I haven't seen her today.”

I jumped down the tree and left victor's village.

“Where are you going?”, Rue called after me.

I just kept walking without giving her an answer.

I froze in place when I saw the rest of the district. It was completely abandoned.

I thrashed around toward Rue who was looking upset now.

“Stop playing with me! What is all of this about?”, I growled at her as an immense pain settled inside my chest again.

“What's gotten into you?”, Rue seemed scared.

My lovely, little Rue scared of me?

“My mind is messing with me, isn't it? Am I dreaming or dead?”

Her gaze switched from scared to sad.

“That's up to you”, she admitted.

I took a step back. “Up to me?”

“It depends. Do you want to go back? You could also stay here with me. We could do everything we want without having to fear any consequences. We could be free. Together.”

I sank to the ground as my feet refused to support me any longer. Tears were blurring my sight.

“You can't do this to me, Rue”, I whispered. “If I can go back, then I don't have a choice. I promised Johanna to return and I haven't kept my promise to you yet. Panem isn't free as long as people like Snow and Coin manage to have power.”

My little sister smiled at me. “I didn't expect any less. But don't worry. I'll be waiting for you and hope it'll take a while until our reunion.”

The sunlight intensified taking my vision from me.

A few seconds later I noticed that it had been the lights of an unfamiliar room blinding me, a hospital room.

I was feeling light-headed, but no pain. The morphling was dripping into my body steadily.

Johanna? Was she really standing next to me?

She had immediately jumped up and was yelling something, her gestures wild and furious.

What was she saying?

Her hair had grown a lot since I had last seen her. Now I could actually call it hair again and not just bristle.

Was all of this real now or was I still dreaming? I could not differentiate it anymore.

Why was it so silent? It was making me tired …

“Finally you're awake again!”, I heard Johanna's voice when I opened my eyes again.

Confusion filled me. How many times had I woken up? What had been a dream and what had been reality?

“Jo ...”, I uttered with a hoarse voice.

“So you hear me?”, she questioned.

I nodded uneasily.

I wanted to say something else, but my throat was hurting badly.

Carefully I sat up and took the glass of water standing on the small table beside my bed. But it slipped out of my hand and Johanna caught it just in time.

Since when was a glass of water so heavy?

“Take it easy. You'll get your scolding later”, Johanna promised and helped me drinking.

I would have never imagined her in such a position. It did not suit her, but that made me appreciate her behavior even more.

“What happened?”, I wondered.

Johanna took a deep breath. “You were in the Capitol and accompanied Katniss on the way toward Snow, remember?”

I simply nodded.

“You were hit by an explosion that almost killed you. Didn't I tell you not to be reckless?! And Finnick told me everything! I don't even know where to start …!”

I weakly put my hand over hers. “Didn't you say the scolding would follow later?”, I reminded her with a smile.

She growled in frustration and gently took my hand.

“What's my state?”

“Actually, they've barely been able to save your right leg and you lost your hearing. It's artificial now.”

That shocked me. Honestly I was not noticing a difference.

“So I did wake up before?”, I reassured.

“Yeah. I was scolding you for being so fucking reckless, but you just passed out again without any reaction.”

Maybe I could be grateful for the temporary loss of my hearing as Johanna had apparently calmed down by now.

Suddenly an image flashed into my mind. Katniss, Prim, me and the explosion.

“What about the others? Finnick, Peeta, Gale, Cressida, Pollux, Katniss, Prim. Are they alright?”

“Katniss woke up a few days ago. She's been in a similar state as you. Prim didn't make it.”

The explosion resounded in my ears. When was all of this finally going to stop? I could not take it anymore!

In my mind several images of Prim replayed. And at one point they started overlapping with Rue's until I saw a world where they had been friends. It felt suffocating.

“Stop it”, I whined.

“Please stop!”, I cried out putting my hands over my ears as if I could shut out my own mind.

The smell of pine needles got me back to reality.

I was resting in Johanna's arms who was holding the bundle she had gotten from Katniss inside her hand.

When my eyes met hers I recognized that she was still overwhelmed with comforting me, but honestly she was doing great. I wished I could just stay here in this safe haven forever, but life was not that easy.

“I have to see Katniss.”

“No way! You're both too weak for that right now”, Johanna declined.

Maybe she was right about that. I was feeling utterly exhausted, like each movement was using up all my energy.

For the next days Johanna insisted that I fully concentrated on my recovery. No one was allowed to see me before I had rested properly.

Burn wounds were covering my whole body and if the exhaustion did not make me feel dizzy, the morphling was taking over that task.

Slowly I learned walking again. At first I had not been able to walk without Johanna's support, but I improved quickly. I exhausted myself as much as possible to stop myself from thinking, which was easy as I had almost no energy left.

After countless days Finnick and Annie visited me.

“Hey, (f/n)”, they greeted me with a smile.

Thankfully they did not bother to ask me how I was feeling.

In the meantime Johanna watched them carefully.

“Is your child alright?”, I wondered.

“Yeah, he's growing healthily”, Finnick ensured.

“Wait! He?”

“Yes. We're getting a little boy”, Annie announced happily.

It was relieving to see and hear something positive after everything else had appeared to break down.

Suddenly Annie took my hand, tears visible in her eyes.

I heard Johanna moving on her chair, but she did not interject.

“Thank you so much”, Annie whispered. “Finnick told me what you did. I can never make up for it, but I want you to know how grateful I am.”

I smiled reassuringly at her. “I just saved a friend and ally. I'd have never forgiven myself if I hadn't tried.”

Annie hugged me and Finnick joined in while pulling Johanna toward us.

“What the hell?”, Johanna exclaimed, but did not seriously resist.

Would now finally come the time where we could be friends without having to fear to threaten each other? Without having to fear the next misery coming over us?

It took a while until I was dismissed from the hospital.

Johanna and I moved into an old victor's apartment as we wanted to wait for Snow's execution, before going … where? We had not talked about that yet. About our future at all. Most likely because having a future had always been something unpredictable as a victor.

Honestly there were more important matters for me right now as Panem was still not free. My promise had not been fulfilled yet.

Several days later Johanna and I were called to Snow's palace where Katniss was living at the moment.

I had not seen her since the explosion and I was anxious about it. I had not wanted Katniss and me to know how the other had been feeling due to Rue's death. But now we had switched roles.

How was I supposed to look her in the eye? Prim had been in my reach and yet she had died and I had survived. Though my worries seemed to be meaningless right now as I did not get a chance to speak to Katniss in private.

When we arrived the other victors were placed around a conference table.

Katniss arrived last.

Seeder was not here. Did that mean …?

“What's up here?”, Katniss wondered.

“We dunno”, Haymitch responded. “Seems to be a gathering of the remaining victors.”

“Only we are left?”, Katniss exclaimed surprised.

“The price of fame”, Beetee declared. “Both sides shot at us. The Capitol killed the victors it considered rebels and the other way around.”

“And what is she doing here then?” Johanna glared at Enobaria.

“She's protected by something we call the mockingjay deal”, Coin explained while entering the room. “Katniss Everdeen agreed to be the mockingjay in exchange for impunity of the captured victors. Katniss kept her part of the deal, so we are keeping ours.”

Enobaria smiled provocatively at Johanna. Did she have a death wish after all?

“Don't think too much of it. We're going to kill you anyway”, Johanna grumbled at Enobaria.

“I asked you to come here to talk with you about something”, Coin announced bluntly as always. “Today we will execute Snow. During the last weeks hundreds of his allies have gotten their verdict, now waiting for their execution as well. But the suffering in the districts has been so great that many think that the death of those allies wouldn't be enough. They want all Capitol citizens to die. But of course we cannot agree to that. But there is an alternative.

As my colleagues and I cannot find collective solution, we decided to let you, the victors, decide. The majority has to vote for it to accept it. The suggestion is: Instead of annihilating the whole population of the Capitol, we will hold symbolic Hunger Games for a last time with the children, nephew's, niece's and grandchildren of those who had the most power.”

Shock and disbelief filled the room.

“What?”, Johanna was the first to speak.

“We will hold Hunger Games one more time with the Capitol's children”, Coin repeated.

“Are you kidding?”, Peeta exclaimed.

“Of course not. There's one thing left: If you decide for it, it will be published that you voted for it, although just commonly and not which victor decided for what to guarantee your safety”, Coin added.

“Was that Plutarch's idea?”, Haymitch questioned.

“It was mine”, Coin clarified. “It seems like a good compromise between the wish for revenge and the loss of as few lives as possible. You can vote now.”

My intuition had been right the whole time. What was great about switching from Snow to Coin? This idea just clarified that she was not any better than Snow.

The Hunger Games had to stop! Revenge would only lead to more revenge! It was an endless circle of hate and suffering.

“No!”, Peeta burst out. “Of course I vote with no! There shouldn't be more Hunger Games!”

“Actually why not?”, Johanna shot back. “I think it's just fair. Snow has a granddaughter after all. I vote with yes.”

“Me too”, Enobaria agreed almost uninterested. “Let's make them pay.”

“But that's exactly what we fought against! Don't you remember?”, Peeta interjected.

“Peeta's right. We fought to change something, not to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. I vote with no”, Finnick resonated.

“Me too. We out of all people know how it is to participate in the Hunger Games. How could we wish that onto anyone?”, Annie added getting Beetee's approval.

“Then it's up to you three. (f/n), Haymitch, Katniss”, Coin addressed us.

Everything inside of me screamed to vote with no. But something stopped me. The fact that Katniss out of all people had not uttered a word yet.

“I vote with yes … for Prim”, Katniss proclaimed.

Did she know that Coin had actually killed Prim and almost us too? I could not imagine Katniss to vote for more Hunger Games without a greater meaning behind it. She had been furious when Gale had lost himself over revenge. And she would never taint Prim with the blood of innocent children for her selfish wish for revenge either.

It did not make any sense. There had to be another reason.

Haymitch seemed to have the same realization as he was eyeing Katniss thoroughly. “I follow the mockingjay”, he finally stated beside Peeta's protests.

Everyone was looking anxiously at me. My vote would decide over it: “Me too.”

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

Next Chapter

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harrison-abbott · 1 year ago

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A Type of Awe

My elder brother was attacked very badly outside of the supermarket, one summer afternoon when I was very young. Well, I was nine, and the thumping violence of seeing my brother have his face kicked apart was sublime and changed my life forevermore.

We went back into the supermarket after the other boy had finished and somebody called the police. The shoppers looked at my teary face and my brother’s bloody face with a confused type of awe.

Nothing happened to the boy who beat up my brother. For the simple reason that he was too young. I remember going to the hospital in the police car: and we saw the gang of youths, including the boy who had committed the assault, walking down the main road, and they all nervously glanced at the vehicle as it passed.

Violence didn’t stop there. That was only the start of it.

Somebody else – some stupid lad, who in this case was only being thick rather than abusive – broke my twin brother’s nose in the playground at school. Seeing my twin brother crying just made me snap. And so I ran after the kid who did it and beat the f*ck out of him as best as I could. He didn’t retaliate. I was upset for hours, because it had reconjured the memories of my elder brother getting battered. And afterwards I heard the other kids making fun of me because I was crying, as well, and they didn’t understand the history.

Fastforward a few years. I was walking up to the newsagent. My high school had the day off; whereas the other high school was still on. And I met a pair of lads from the other school. They yelled something at me and I yelled something back. And then one of them ran after me. He was bigger, taller. Both of them ran after me, actually, now I remember: and one of them just smacked me in the temple. For no reason. It was a mighty, stinging smack on the side of the head. And I just, like before, started bawling.

No police were called that time because the lads just ran off.

And then there was the incident when I was around fourteen when the super ugly kid (he looked like the Sid character from Toy Story (1995)) came and headbutted me and punched me. Also for no reason. We did call the police about that, that time, and the police weren’t allowed to go into his house because he was underage, and his parents weren’t home. Which made me wonder what the police officers were even for.

And then there was a kid in high school who I had never met before who rugby tackled me over on the field behind the school at lunch time. Also without provocation. Then his mates teased me relentlessly because there was a sense of threat that I had ‘been in a fight with him’ – when the reality was only clumsiness and boyish disorder.

There was a boy who threw a rock at me along the street when I was walking up to the bus stop. Him and his friend were smoking in the trees by the roadside, and I had my headphones in. And so I didn’t know they were there and when I saw them lurking in the trees, I got a fright. As one does when something is unexpected: and I said, “Oh, shit.” And walked on. And twenty yards down the road I heard something trickling at my feet: and turned and there was a lad glaring at me, having just lobbed the boulder.

The incidents began to pile up, and I grew angrier and angrier.

A group of bullies in the above year accused my friend and I of stealing beer at a party. We hadn’t stolen anything. But for some reason the main accuser developed a grudge against me from that night onwards; I’d see him scowling at me whenever he got the chance, if we happened to pass each other in the playground or whatnot. This was when I was older, in the latter teens. And it culminated – the feud – one night when he and his mates spotted me on the street out in the provincial town.

He kept circling me with his car. Then waited ominously at the end of the road and revved up, as if to run me over. And then he sped up and narrowly missed me. I snapped. Finally. And threw a brick at their car. All three of them got out. Three on one. So I went up and punched one of them. They knocked me over and kicked me in the head and punched me in the face.

I went to his house the next week and embarrassed him in front of his mother. And he was very determined to see me leave him alone.

Oh, and then there was the man from up the road who thundered out of his house and punched me in the face and pulled my hair, after I kicked a football at his window. When I was in my teens, and he must’ve been in his forties. Was, in his 40s. He remains the oldest person to ever have attacked me. And I’ve written before on this blog about what I did to him in retaliation.

And then when I was 20 years old, I got jumped by a pair of bouncers outside of a nightclub. Two minutes after all my friends walked away from me as if they didn’t know who I was. The bouncers got away with it. The friends never apologised for their abandonment, and in fact they said I “deserved” the assault. And I responded by relinquishing their ‘friendship’ and severing ties with them.

There are several other violent incidents from the past.

I grew up very, very damaged by each of them, all of them.

Perhaps the only good thing that came out of all of this darkness was an artistic momentum. Because I chose to respond artistically, rather than anything else.

I wanted to be a writer ever since I was a kid; and before any of such violence happened. All of that animosity gave me motivation to plough into the writing. And none of my tormentors ever stopped me from getting poems and stories and novels published. I also highly doubt that any of them have any artistic merit whatsoever.

Existence can be very dark. Of course. You can deal with it through artwork.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #stories #tumblr writers #spilled words #spilled ink

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kholran · 2 years ago

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All of this. In addition to everything mentioned above, one of the most common side effects of declawing is a cat who doesn't use (or consistently use) the litter box. Back when I worked at the only local 'no-kill' shelter, we'd get a lot of people calling to surrender their pets, for just about every reason imaginable. Some more valid than others (I seriously had one person try to surrender their 14 year old dog because it no longer matched the furniture. I very nearly committed a crime that day.) Anyway, a frequently given reason for cat surrenders was "not using the litter box". And I would say 8 or 9 times out of 10, when you asked them if the cat was declawed, the answer was "yes". Big shocker, when you amputate toes and then bring the cat home (often with limited or no pain medication), and then said cat digs in a litter box full of tiny gritty bits, it fucking HURTS. So declawed cats will often develop pain-aversion behaviour, and choose to do their business somewhere more comfortable. Like the carpet, or a laundry basket full of clean towels, or the middle of your bed. Story time! I had a declawed cat. No, I didn't do it. I got this cat because her previous "owner" saw fit to drive up to the park next to our farm, open his car door, and throw her out into the woods before driving off. Luckily I witnessed this happen, and was quickly able to tell someone who went out and got her before anything bad happened. Through a not so surprising series of events, this cat ended up coming home with me that day. And I can say for a fact, without any doubt, that she was traumatized. Not only because of being dumped, but because of being declawed. For the first few weeks, she hid under a chair and barely came out to eat or drink. While she was under that chair, she would lash out and attack passing feet, which earned her the name Ninja (she was also black). Even after she gained the confidence to come out from under the chair, she would lash out at the slightest provocation. She growled almost non-stop, and bit when touched (biting is another common side effect of declawing, because the cats are very aware that their first line of defense is gone). She would swat at my other cats in a "you can't get me if I get you first!" kind of way. And of course, she peed on the carpet instead of the litter box. Now I'm not the type of person to give up on an animal once it's in my care. We ended up pulling up all the carpet, and putting puppy pads down in the places she used. She never stopped lashing out at us, even after 15 years. But underneath all that insecurity? There was a loving cat. In the quiet times, when she was comfortable enough to sit next to us and allow gentle petting, she'd purr and lean against our legs. It absolutely killed me to think of how wonderful and affectionate she could have been if they hadn't declawed her and made her so horribly anxious and defensive that she could barely function. You could tell that she desperately wanted affection sometimes, but she was too scared to accept it without lashing out. The only time I ever really got to hold her and show her the affection she wanted and needed was when she died in my arms at 16 years old. If she hadn't been declawed, she would have been a completely different cat. Affectionate, outgoing, and confident. Instead, she was anxious and volatile. Don't declaw your cats unless a medical emergency deems it absolutely necessary. The furniture isn't worth the physical and mental trauma you'll inflict on your cat.

ETA after reading some of the notes:

Yes, a lot of vets are still pro-declawing. Many will still offer it right alongside spay/neuter as just something you do. And the reason for that is that it makes them a LOT of money. I haven't checked the statistics recently, but the last time I did, declawing was the most profitable elective procedure for vet practices. So a lot of them will downplay the (many MANY) negative side effects and try to push owners to do it by saying things like "if you do it when they're young enough, it won't cause problems" or "there are a lot of causes of litter box disuse, we can't say for sure it's this". All of it is bullshit, and they're just trying to make money.

From my experience, just using nail trimmers and clipping a cat's claws does not make them more prone to biting (unless they hate it and bite your fingers while you're trying to do it). Be careful not to trim too close to the quick, and if possible, acclimate cats to having regular claw trims when they're still kittens. But at least in my own personal experience (currently, 10 clawed cats who get their nails trimmed), there is no increase in biting behaviour outside of the two minutes it takes me to get it done (particularly the cats who came to me as strays and had to learn to tolerate it when they were no longer kittens). Definitely not the same increase in biting as an every-day defense that we see in declawed cats. So don't be afraid to trim your cat's claws on a regular basis!

I been talking to a lot of ppl w cats lately (I volunteer at an animal shelter) and I didn’t know this needed to be said but

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT DECLAW YOUR CAT.

Declawing sounds very normal to people who aren’t educated on it so let me show you what it actually is.

As you might notice from the diagram, the claw is attached to a small bone at the very end of a cat’s paw. They are fused to this bone, which on a human hand would be where your last knuckle is (the one right before your nail). When someone gets a cat declawed, they aren’t just removing the claw.

The entire last digit of the cat’s paw is removed. (See below)

This severely impedes the cat’s ability to balance itself, is extremely painful for them, and can make the cat extremely aggressive because it no longer has one of its main defense mechanisms! It can also cause many other medical issues down the line including infection, necrosis, and some cats are never able to walk correctly again. Most cats that have this done never fully recover from the procedure and are in constant chronic pain.

It is extremely inhumane and is illegal in only two states at the time I’m writing this!!!! (Maryland and New York) Cats should only have this procedure if it is a life or death situation, never just because someone finds a cat being a cat inconvenient for them. Don’t get a cat if you don’t want to be scratched or have some ruined furniture. If you want more information on this topic, I’d recommend Jackson Galaxy’s YouTube video on it, and to read up on some articles I will link in the comments.

I know I don’t usually post about these types of things, but it’s made me extremely angry to hear people mention getting their cats declawed so flippantly as if it doesn’t ruin the cat’s life, and always for an asinine reason like “they scratched my couch” or “they scratch my kids” THOSE ARE YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES AS A CAT OWNER. Treat your kids and peers to treat animals with respect, or don’t get a cat.

#cats #declawing #just don't do it #i have gone off on family/friends #who have said they were considering it #this is the hill i will die on #if you do this to your cat #you are a shitty owner

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lemonjoonah · 5 years ago

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Blood Bounty - Part 1 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 10K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings: Non-consensual vampire feeding (graphic, provocative, sexual, blood play, and twisted as fuck), captivation/enslavement, blood, drugging (force feeding vampire blood), obsession, violence, PTSD, at one point the OC pleads for death, it’s dark guys you’ve been warned. While the vampire feeding in this part is highly sexualized, I do have somewhat more “traditional” smut scenes planned for part 2 and 3.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: This mini-series is a loose retelling of Anastasia, you’ll find it to be very different from the animated film. I attempted to blend both the history and the story together in a new historical fantasy world that is not our own. Anyway I hope you enjoy the start to my three part twisted tale, and if you have any questions at the end please feel free to send them my way! Also a big thank you to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi and @ladyartemesia. This story wouldn’t have made it this far without you!

This story is dedicated to all of those who have lost themselves to a monster (of any form) at some point in their life. I know the journey back to yourself can be hard, but trust me, you are worth every effort.

...

From the break of dawn you’ve crossed miles of ground, traversing through grassy fields and deep rivers. Accompanied only by the clothes on your back, a stake in your hand, and a pair of boots far too big for your feet, all stolen during your hastened departure.

You consider yourself lucky after making it out unseen. Lucky that Taehyung had left his fortress of a castle, lucky that he took most of his capable progenies with him, lucky that the underling who tended to your room left the fire iron within your reach, and lucky that it was able to break the chain of the shackle fastened around your wrist. You left as soon as daylight broke. With everything working in your favour for your escape, even acquiring your captor’s clothes and cap to pass off as a young man. For sightings of a woman travelling alone might tip off those you would rather avoid.

But now, with your heels raw and bloody, it would seem that your good fortune has finally run out, as the smell will no doubt attract his hunters. You curse your carelessness, for the number of times Taehyung has complimented you for your most potent scent. You’ve witnessed it yourself, a single whiff of your blood during his feedings having sent several of his men into a frenzy. This unfortunate blessing left you to be seen as a bounty, condemning you to his captivity, and now the struggle as you flee for your life.

You attempt to clean the broken skin and stem the flow with strips torn from your tunic. The fine piece of clothing is barely recognizable after the paces you’ve put it through today. With the extra fabric now wedged into your boots you can only hope that it’ll make your journey tomorrow easier, and detain much of the scent that would allow them to track you.

You wish that you could continue on tonight, but the darkness of the wood, your sores, and your fatigue impede your plans. You’ve gained ground but the lack of settlements must mean that you still lie within his realm. With your memories stolen in an effort to keep you at his side you have little to go on but a tapestry that hung in his den. It showed a city to the east, beyond the boundary of his land, and what is hopefully your home. But with the woven display having no proper scale you have no idea how long it will take to actually leave his territory. Freedom could be hours or days away. You can only hope that the rivers you’ve traversed will keep them at bay until you can find a safer place to stay. Their weaknesses are all you have to lean on to prevent recapture, but will it be enough?

After tending to your feet you settle in the nook of a tree, leaning your head against the mossy trunk. Your stomach growls but you have no food to feed it, nor a blanket to dismiss the chilling wind which forces a shiver from you. Your deflated spirit is made even worse when a raven takes notice of your poor state. It circles overhead, undoubtedly looming with the hopes that you have given in, and that he too can feast on you.

Ignoring the omen, you close your eyes, directing your focus instead on the surrounding sounds of the forest, listening for anything that might be a predator making an approach. Despite an exhausting day you still are wary of sleep, knowing what will greet you as you drift off, and concern of someone, or something catching up to you once you do. You rest there for what must be an hour, debating with yourself the advantages slumber, before you hear the snap of a nearby twig. Your fingers drift to the wooden stake on the ground next to you, your movement is slow hoping to escape the notice of whatever might be drawing closer. The footsteps which crunch on the leaves continue to advance on your position. There’s no running now, all you can do is play ignorance until they are in range for you to act.

When a hand reaches down and tilts the brim of your hat, you open your eyes, driving your weapon up in an aim to strike, but your assailant is too quick for you. He catches your arm in an iron grip, much like the remains of the manacle that still holds your other wrist. Though his face is hidden by the dark of night and his frame draped in a long coat, there is no doubt about what he is, and what he’s come for, his speed in stopping you was far too fast to be human.

“Be still,” the monster growls. “It’s me, Yoongi. Are you hurt?”

His concern is almost laughable. His implication of a connection likely a trap, one intent on luring you in, with a motive to end the hunt. “Not if you leave me be.” You attempt to press the stake towards him still, but he barely even registers your efforts.

“Have you forgotten me?” The beast’s grip tightens on your arm as he dismisses your threat, taking the stake in his own hand before he pulls you up while he continues his deception, “I know that to be what I asked for, but I didn’t think... no, it matters not. ” He shakes his head as his words trail off. His voice then returns resolute and firm once he changes thoughts. “Come, we must get you somewhere safe.”

You dig your heels into the ground as he attempts to pull you along, clawing at his fingers until they release you. “I’m not going anywhere with you vampire. You will not take me back to him, anywhere is safer than there.”

“I am not taking you back, but we must leave. They’ve already placed a large bounty on you and these parts will be flooded with hunters soon.”

“How can I be sure you’re not one of those hunters?” You make an attempt to retake the stake, showing you have no intention of complying with him. But he pulls it back, holding it just out of your grasp.

“You will have to take me at my word, I am not of Taehyung’s kin and I have no plans on handing you back over to him. Now if you please, I can either escort you to safety, or take you there by force.”

“I don’t trust you.” You glare back at him.

“Very well,” the vampire sighs, tossing your wooden weapon aside, putting it far beyond your reach. He then bends down, throwing you easily over his shoulder, and thereby ending the argument over your fate. Your fists collide with his back several times in an effort to make him release you, but he doesn’t appear bothered by the attack. You draw breath ready to call out when he stops you with a quick jostle. His shoulder lays into your abdomen knocking the wind from your lungs. “You may hit me all you want, but do not scream. I would rather not alert others to our location.”

Could he really not be someone sent by Taehyung’s underlings? Regardless, even if he is, you don’t have the strength to over power him. There’s little you can do but lay like a rag doll propped over his shoulder, with his arm hooked on the back of your knees.

He hauls you over to a break in the trees, one which leads out to the road where a horse waits patiently for him. You’re thankful when he seats you on the saddle rather than throwing you on your stomach once again. With the full light of the moon on the open dirt road, you’re finally able to see his face properly. His soft and sombre expression is a drastic difference compared to Taehyung’s sharp features and cruel grin.

“Are you going to behave now princess?”

Your eyes widen with terror in response to his last word uttered. You immediately try to pull away to put as much distance as you can between you and him, but he holds you firm in the saddle. The confining grip matching the memories of the name he has just called you all too well. Your breathing comes in short panicked waves as your hand moves to conceal the scar on your neck. You can’t go back, you won’t go back, you refuse to endure that supposed term of endearment anymore.

“Prin-” The vampire tries again to elicit a response from you, only this time you cut him off. Your fear turning to anger unwilling to tolerate another lie from his lips.

“If you are not one of Taehyung’s clan then tell me, why do you address me in that manner?”

“You don’t know why I call you princess?” He gazes upon you, his eyes narrowed in confusion as you recoil once again. This time he takes your hand, which bears the weight of both the iron shackle and bitten brand, to hold you still. When you wince from the pressure of his touch, he looks down to examine the sensitive spot. His jaw stiffens as he finds the source of the pain. “What has he done to you?” He whispers softly as his fingers trail over the wound on your palm.

...

“Open up princess, I have a gift for you,” Taehyung orders, standing over you as you sit on his desk. Gripping your jaw, while your lips remain sealed in defiance. “I said open.” His hand tightens, forcing your mouth to unfasten and expel a cry of pain. He presses the bloody tip of his finger to your tongue, dragging his index from the back to the front coating it with the thick fluid. “Now swallow.”

Your mouth begins to salivate with the intrusion of his blood. You know if you take it in you will lose everything once again, you’ll lose the will you’ve been building back up to defy him. He is never truly out of your system, you still have gaps in yourself, but the need to disobey always has its way of creeping back to you first. To be forced back into obedience within your own body and mind is nothing short of torture.

You refuse to allow him to drag you back to the dark willingly, spitting your saliva along with his blood into his smug expression.

Taehyung chuckles darkly as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right my princess. How could I think that only a drop would be enough to dispel your greed? You deserve more.”

This time he bites into his hand allowing the blood to pool, while the other takes hold of your neck. The dripping flesh of his palm covers your gasping mouth. Your head is tilted back by his grasp as the blood drains down the back of your throat.

“You will keep this down. You will accept my control. Every time you look at yourself you will think of me. When you close your eyes you will dream of me, for you can not run away only toward. You will remember nothing before me, and nothing before the night I bestow you with this.” His thumb passes over a three month old scar on your neck, continuing to mark it as the cornerstone of the earliest memory you possess.

Every week without fail he reweaves his bonds inside you, tending to them as a doting hunter with a valued prey. He takes his fill of you in between, sometimes it’s only a taste and others a full meal. Treating his desk as a dining table and you the feast, placing you down upon it for his consumption.

“I will have to leave you weak in the knees today princess if I must go without you for a fortnight.” His finger catches a drop of blood that escapes your mouth running it back along your lips before his hand moves away and down, trailing deep red lines down the skin of your jaw and neck. “I’m sorry to leave, but there are some pressing matters which I must attend to.” He portrays a look of sorrow, but you know better than to believe that he can possess a single human emotion. “You’ll be good while I’m gone won’t you? Shall I give you something to remember me by? Another mark unhealed for you to see? You can watch as it slowly means, knowing that I’ll be back to tear you open again.”

He lifts your hand to his face with his own bloody fingers. How you wish you could slap him away, but your body refuses to move on your behalf, after consuming his blood it yields only to him.

He does not hesitate before sinking his teeth into the base of your palm. Matching his own wound that he inflicted on himself, but as yours grows deeper, his begins to heal. He takes a long draft before releasing in a pant. Your blood acts like a drug to his system, making him as he so often puts it, ‘Feel alive again.’

He wipes his palm on yours allowing the breach to clot, he doesn’t mend it completely, instead leaving the painful imprint of his teeth, branding you anew, just as promised. “Appetizer, now entree Princess,” he mutters as he moves on, shifting to cradle your head and neck in his arms. You attempt to pull away, but that only forces him to issue the command, “Stay still.”

His face hovers over the pulse of your neck, with you now frozen beneath. His fangs are careful not to dive too deep, retracting just as the blood begins to trickle from your throat. It collects in the well of your collar and trails down your chest, seeping beneath the bodice of your dress. The white fabric of your garment starts to bloom with scarlet. He could have chosen a gown of darker cloth for your personal wear, one that would be less prone to display the gruesome patterns of his actions, but he prefers to see the art of your suffering, your clothes and body becoming a canvas for his great masterpiece. He mutters how beautiful it looks while his fingers add to the display, painting a ruby-red choker around your neck using the blood as a stain.

His eyes linger taking in the sight before he moves in again to collect the flow, lapping it off your skin like a beast amidst a drought. You cringe as his tongue crosses your flesh, relentless in its desire to gather every drop it can. And just when you think he’s finished it makes another pass, accompanied by a growl and another sharp nip.

Unlike your hand, he completely remedies the gash on your neck, leaving only the one scar upon your throat from his first feeding. The loss starts to hit you, your skin turning cold like his, your breathing shallow, and your pulse quick. You hope that might be the end, that he has had his fill and needs no more, but his hand then fastens on your leg having pushed up the hem of your skirt and thin petticoat. “Let me in princess, I still have room left for dessert.” His teeth skim across the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh mapping his preferred spot from your pained twitches.

You whimper as he clamps down for his last bite. The only solace you can take is that he will not be here for two weeks. You have more time without him feeding, time to gain back control, and time to escape. You stare off to the woven tapestry map behind him, not knowing where to go but longing to be anywhere but here.

...

“D-don’t call me that.” Your demand catches and cracks at the back of your throat.

“But it’s what you are-”

“I am not his dinner, I am not his slave, and I am most certainly not his princess! I will not go back. If you have any mercy, please... drain me here. For I am far more willing to meet death, than I am to see him again. ”

To your confusion he looks shocked that you would even suggest such an act. He takes a moment before looking into your eyes with a narrowed gaze, “You don’t remember anything do you? It’s not just me you’ve forgotten.”

You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes, “I remember nothing before him.”

The vampire holds what’s left of the iron shackle in his hands, bending it apart with only his grip, freeing you from it’s clutches.

There's another sigh from him as he takes the space on the saddle behind you. His body is uncomfortably close to yours, with his breath on your neck, and arms wrapped on either side to take the reins. “And I thought he could sink no lower...” He urges the horse forward with a nudge and a few mumbled words far too low for you to hear. “You are right, you are not his meal, nor his property, but it is not simply a given moniker to which I am referring, it’s what you are. You are the only living heir of a human kingdom just east of here.”

“You lie, there is no way I could be,” This is just another game of his. It has to be. “If I am what you say, how could I have ended up where I was?”

“You went missing, disappearing from your bed in the night. Your people assume that you were kidnapped, that you were taken by a monster, not knowing what we are. But I assure you, you are the lost pr-” He stops as you stiffen once again. “I can take you home, back to your family, back to your people, if that’s what you wish.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I broke a promise long ago, I plan to remedy that mistake.”

“I fail to see how that applies to me.” You mutter as you slump down in the saddle, no longer fighting your current fate. This vampire too can easily overpower you, he can take you wherever he desires to go, but as long as it’s away from Taehyung you have no wishes to slow him down.

He pulls a skin of water from his horse’s pack offering it to you. Your dry mouth wants to empty it in one swig, but the possibility of what else it could contain holds you back. You turn your nose up instead fearing that he’s drugged it with his own blood.

“I have not tampered with it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You keep assuming your words carry weight with me. I will need more than that if I am to drink this.”

“If I intended to manipulate you with blood I would have done so already instead of fighting to get you on the horse.”

He’s right, it would have been far easier. You take a careful sip rolling over your tongue, trying to detect even the slightest taste of iron before your swallow.

He holds out food too, in the form of a few pieces of dried meat. Your mouth waters at the sight. The unaltered drink gives you the confidence to abandon your worries and take it, asking more questions while you eat. “You said I forgot you, but how was it that I knew you Yoo-” You pause trying to recall the name he led with when he found you.

“Yoongi.”

You wait for more but he doesn’t continue, after swallowing your current mouthful you press further. “Are you not going to tell me?”

“It would be better if you remembered.”

“You expect me to trust you, but then you hide truths?”

“I expect you to trust me because I want you to recall your truth of our encounters, not mine. When you do I will gladly discuss it with you, but not until then.” His tone is stern, boasting an air of finality to his argument.

You huff back in frustration. “Can you at least tell me how long you’ve known me?”

“More than ten years now, you were a child of fourteen when we first met.”

“So you must know my name? My real name?” You ask with near excitement, hoping it might stir up some of your past within you.

“I do.” But as he recalls it, whispering the name for you to hear, nothing happens. You thought when you heard it again that everything would come back all at once like a spell broken by one magical word. But the name that comes from Yoongi’s lips has no meaning to you, no memory, no warmth. It bestows only a cold emptiness, a fear that you’ll never quite be able to bind yourself together with the person who bore that name before.

...

Hours later Yoongi pulls his horse off the path and into the woods, trotting down what looks to be an overgrown trail. You finally come to a stop in front of a mound, backed by an elevation of stone and earth, bearing a small cave-like entrance.

“What is this?”

“An old mining site. We’ll have to stop here for now.” Yoongi helps you down off the horse before removing the tackle and taking the large pack, he ties his steed up with a long lead on a grassy patch. Once finished you follow him through the dark and into the cavern, lagging a few paces behind with your legs stiff and sore from the night’s travel.

“But there’s still another hour or two until the sunrise. Why stop here?”

“Because this is the last dark space that’s marked for the next fifteen miles.” He opens one of the bags pulling out a lantern, he lights it, dousing the cold and damp walls of the cave in a warm glow. Taking out a thick piece of paper next, he unfolds it with careful precision, laying it gently across a leather pack. He acts as though it’s a precious heirloom passed on to him from a loved one long gone. Your heart starts to race upon realization that it’s a map, and how with it’s aid you’d be able to find your own way home.

Dark circles on the heavy parchment denote what according to the key is a resting spot. He opens it further pointing to both your current position and destination, your fingers tracing over a kingdom which he says is yours. With still three times the distance you’ve travelled yet to traverse, much of your contentment fades.

Despite the blow to your morale, you continue your examination of the map, hoping to learn as much from it as you can. It’s beautifully intricate and precisely made, the only flaw is an ink smudge in the lower left hand corner, which appears to be a faint mirror image of the compass rose on the right. Likely the result of the map being folded before the ink had completely dried. You run your index over the blot feeling much the same. A partial imprint of your past life, and a great distance away from what you must have been.

Yoongi watches you with a keen eye as you attempt to commit your future route to memory. “Does it look at all familiar to you?”

“No, I remember nothing of this land.” Not the names of rivers or cities return to you. How can you call a place home if you know nothing of it? “Thank you for your assistance. I know you have to stop, but after seeing this I feel that I should keep going.” You offer cordially, praying that he’ll agree to parting ways here.

“Oh no you don’t. You’ll stay here until the sun sets, and we’ll continue together.”

“Why should I? If the sun is out I’m not at risk from vampires.”

“It is still a while before we reach your kingdom. You can see that can’t you? At least two more nights where you would be alone if I let you leave. Not to mention the risk from your own brethren. You haven’t been among other humans enough to know that they can be just as malicious.”

“Then give me your horse and I’ll out ride them.”

“When was the last time you rode a horse on your own?” He asks lowering his brow, scoffing as his tongue pokes at the side of his cheek.

“I-I...” Naturally you can’t remember, and he knows it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes of course you’ll be fine, it’s not like there will be vampires nipping at your heels the whole way home. Do you know I could smell the blood trailing from your feet a mile away? I can’t imagine they are in a good state. If the horse were to unseat you and run off, would you even be able to continue?”

You wince at the thought of treading forward on foot. The blisters are already a source of great agony, it’s painful to think what they would be like after another mile or two.

Yoongi notices the show of discomfort in your face, “Looks like you’ll be staying with me then your highness.”

“I’d rather not...” You're grateful he’s stopped calling you by the other title, but that still doesn’t prove his loyalty. “Why are you so insistent on taking me home? What’s in this for you?”

“Your company.”

“I am serious,” you groan, casting a dark glare back at him over the candle light.

“So am I.” He mutters his response, it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

“You are insufferable! I should be taking advantage of the daylight, I should be putting more distance between myself and his prison. You should have left me there in the forest so I wouldn’t have to deal with your so-called assistance.”

“Forgive me for wanting to keep you alive and safe. It must be truly awful to have someone come to your aid.”

“You are not someone, you’re a vampire,” you bite back against his sarcasm. “I take no pleasure in being in the company of your kind.”

Yoongi sighs looking defeated, following it with an odd request. “Give me your hand, the one with the wound.”

“Why?” You clutch your palm to your chest in defence.

“I’ll mend it properly for you, your heels too if you’d like. I want to help undo the damage that my kind has done to you. He should never have left you scarred like that.”

“He shouldn’t have fed off me in the first place!” You shout back your voice echoing off the walls.

“You’re right,” Yoongi levels with you. “But I can’t imagine you want to keep it.”

“I don’t, but I also don’t want help from you! I would rather carry this than any more of your poison. So you can keep your blood to yourself.”

“As you wish,” Yoongi responds, yet he still shifts towards you, encouraging you to back away and keep the space between you.

“I’m not going to...” His tone sounds exasperated but soon changes to a softer register as he looks at your terror ladened face. “Just, take this.” Yoongi passes over a bed roll before pulling one out for himself from the woven pack.

You stare at the bedding, questioning it, the convenience of such an item along with supplies all seem too good to be true. “Why would someone who travels alone have a second? Why would a vampire have a stash of water he can’t drink, and food he can’t eat?”

“I brought them for you. I knew you would need them on the journey.” His answer comes off as thoughtful, but the explanation still doesn’t sit right with you, surely there can be no rational reason as to why he was so ready for your escape.

“You expect me to swallow your perfect timing? That you just happened to be in the right place at the right time, ready to play the role of saviour-”

“Who said the timing was perfect? It has been anything but ideal,” Yoongi growls cutting you off. “I have been trying to get you back ever since I learned that you were taken. But we have limitations that prevented me from just storming his castle. A vampire can not enter the home of another without permission. I tried to get you, believe me I did. While you were trapped inside for five years, I was kept outside for just as long. But I have always been prepared to leave with you at a moment's notice.”

You were ready to continue your argument again just as he was to finish, but one of his last reveals disarms you with an all too unpleasant fact. “H-how long did you just say?”

“Five years?”

“No... that’s not possible, I can’t remember more than a few months.”

“Prin- your highness.” Yoongi catches himself as you turn to panic.

“Please don’t tell me that he held me for years.” You panicked whispers become sobbing pleas, you would gladly take the lie now. The thought of more tortures of imprisonment lying just below the surface of your memory is enough to make you want to do away with your entire past. Blindly tossing it all away and building it all anew, if only it worked that way.

“It’s been years, I’m so sorry, but you’ve been with- you’ve been missing for half a decade.”

“Why? Why would he take that too?” You whisper stand up clutching the scar on your neck, the mark you thought to be the first was likely a only a sequel to many. How many more lie hidden in your skin, healed and masked his blood? Feeling a pull to leave, you stumble towards the mining shaft’s entrance, unable to take another minute beside a monster who could do the same. Yoongi grabs you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist to prevent you from progressing any further outside. You strain against him determined to go back out into the open air. “No, let me go.”

“I can’t do that, your highness.”

You turn into him pushing against his chest as you shout. “Let me go Yoongi.” He doesn’t stop you from shoving, or cursing him out. He just stands there holding tight as you take out your loss on him.

“If I were to do that his hunters would find you,” Yoongi warns. “Is that what you want? Because I’m not ready to lose you to him again...” The last of his sentiment drifts off as if he’s said too much. His grip loosens to the point where you can slip away. As much as you want to turn out and run towards the sun he’s right, you can't risk losing another five years or maybe more. He nods down to the bed roll abandoned on the ground. “You should get some rest, you’ll need it for the journey tomorrow.”

You obey, taking the bedding and lantern, wandering back farther into the cave and further away from the vampire. Slipping off your boots you find the cloth you had wedged in earlier caked with blood. You glance over to your nocturnal companion seeing if the reveal had any effect on him, but he’s already lying down, his back towards you, paying no attention. Desperate to dispose of the temptation you hold the two strips of fabric above the lantern flame. Fortunately they are dry enough to burn, leaving only ashen traces of the linen scraps. You redress your wounds with more fabric from your garment, but before curling under the blankets for the day you take one last precaution. With numerous broken branches littering the floor of the cave, you take the most jagged and sturdy, tucking in by your side. The sharp twig is not quite a stake, but a better defence than nothing at all.

...

Even after travelling all day and night with little rest it takes an age for you to fall asleep, not because of the hard ground, not due to the pain in your legs, nor the questionable motives of your new guard, but the knowledge of who you’ll see once you do. Although Taehyung’s blood has lost control of your physical movements, his hold on your mind is still tight. You know you’ll see him when you drift off, but your exhaustion is unwavering and your need of rest undeniable.

It seems like only moments after you close your eyes that you’re reunited. He lies there beside you back in his castle, with his own eyes closed, his face content with a small smile as though he’s just fed. But on this night, something’s different. You finally feel as though you have the power to fight back against him. The stake you had stolen from his collection, and promptly lost to the forest, found again by your side. You’ve always wanted this moment, taking vengeance on the one who put you through hell. Even if it is only a dream you’ll embrace it though reality.

Mere inches away from his chest your hand is stopped by his. His eyes fly open and he tackles you back. “Killing me won’t grant you freedom, it won’t stop others from coming for you.”

“Then let them come,” you sneer back at him. “For any life without you Taehyung will be a vast improvement, no matter how short or perilous.”

There’s a quizzical look on his face, his thumb pushing into your palm trying to get you to realise the stake, “Wake up your highness, it’s not what you think.”

You are pulled from the dream to find yourself with your pitiful excuse for a weapon in hand. Pointing it at Yoongi’s heart as he hovers over you. You drop it quickly, and attempt to slide out from beneath him out of fear of retaliation. “I thought you were him.”

He places a heavy hand on your shoulder preventing any further retreat on your part. “I figured that to be the case. Do you have these dreams often?” His tone is not angry, but concerned.

You relax with his understanding, “Every night, he made sure it was so.”

“I know it won’t mend the past, but I’m sorry... for what he’s done to you.”

“I’m sorry I attacked you...”

“I can’t blame you for that,” Yoongi admits with a curling smile on his lips. “If I looked at myself and saw Taehyung I would respond in the same manner.”

You let out a small chuckle, leading to a surprised expression on Yoongi’s face. His smirk soon turns into a sad smile. “I want you to know, when you are with me, you are safe. No one will feed from you, no one will touch you, myself included.”

...

You wake to the sound of a raven in the early evening, the deep croaks of the bird carrying through the mine. Keeping your head down you glance with narrowed eyes to spy on the vampire who currently ties a small roll of parchment to the leg of the dark creature. It waits patiently on his knee until the knot is firmly in place, letting out another loud cry once Yoongi’s hand retreats.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting more then?” Yoongi takes his index, and presses it down onto one of his sharp teeth, allowing a bead of blood to form on the tip. The raven then takes his finger into his beak and tilts his head back as it feeds on the red droplets. You start to gag at the sight, alerting Yoongi to your awakened state. The bird takes flight as your escort gets up to check on you, but as he comes closer you draw back. He pauses after his first couple steps, and asks from a distance instead. “Are you alright?”

“Why did you feed it your blood?” You heave again at the thought, but with little in your stomach there is nothing to come up.

“He’s delivering a letter for me. The blood is his reward; it keeps him healthy, but it also allows me to convey where he needs to go and who he needs to find.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“The raven is more than happy to take it as payment for his service. But I know of what you mean, when the exchange is done improperly...” Yoongi pauses as another wave of nausea overwhelms you again, “Forgive me, I thought you were asleep, I didn’t know you would be watching.”

“What were you sending?”

“Notice to my clan. I left my surveillance post, they will wish to know why.”

“Will that be a problem?” You hadn’t considered groups other than Taehyung’s, but if you can avoid interaction with them all the better.

“No, returning you home will be a greater blow to Taehyung. He has likely built a dependence on your blood and without you he’ll be left in a far weaker state. We might finally have a chance to diminish his hold on the region.” Yoongi takes a brief glance to the entrance and starts to pack away his supplies. “You should ready yourself to leave. The sun is almost down.”

You climb out from your bed roll to find that in the night the blood had seeped through the new makeshift bandage. Yoongi clenches his teeth, and makes another offer. “Please just let me heal them, you'll only need a drop.”

“That’s one drop too much.” You move back unsure if you should be more worried about Taehyung’s men tracking you down, or the more current and looming threat of the vampire in front of you. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” “No,” he confirms, however there’s a slight hesitation in his answer. “But you should go wash up before you lose all daylight, there’s a river just down hill.” He takes a kerchief from his pocket and places it on a rock between you. “You can have this if you’d like. I don’t have any bandages to offer, other than the treatment you find so distasteful.”

You reach out and grab it. “You won’t be getting this back.” You eye him darkly.

“That’s fine, just go clean them off before others who may be nearby take note of your aroma.” You observe him with caution, hesitating to pass by his threatening mouth to get to that of the cave’s. “Unless you want to stay and watch me eat.” He comments as he pulls out another soft flask which he carries in his jacket. You cringe as he holds in what is likely a stolen meal.

“What?” He fires back at your critical glare.

“Do you drain all your victims into wine skins, or just those you wish to save for later?”

“The one who gave me this was not my victim. They were willing to part with it.”

“Willing?” You scoff. “I find that hard to believe. Are you sure you did not slip them some of your own blood first?”

“No I did not, but if you have a problem with how I conduct my feedings you only have yourself to blame.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Now hurry, so we can make use of this night.”

You do just that, darting past him you leave the mine heading down to the river in the fading sunlight.

...

As you return Yoongi is already outside and packing the horse. With his back to you he pulls an apple from the saddle bag, and the horse turns his head towards the treat with it’s mouth open and reaching. He pulls it back and away from the creature, “I know, I know this should have been yours, but you’ve had enough grass and she needs food. Do you mind sharing?” You watch as he rubs his steed behind the ear and it gives up on it’s want for the fruit. “Thanks, next one is yours, I promise.”

“Am I to thank you or the horse for my meal?” You call out to the vampire.

“You may thank him if you like.” Yoongi hands off the apple to you as you approach.

You can’t help smile as you stand in front of the massive and beautiful stallion letting him smell the back of your hand before you reach you pet the star on his forehead. “What is his name?”

“Horse...” Yoongi admits.

“Horse? Surely you jest. Why would you not give him a proper name?”

“He went for so long without one it just stuck.” Yoongi responds as he tightens the girth of the saddle. “What would you have named him?”

“I’m not sure, but certainly not horse. You poor beast, first he deprives you of a suitable name, then an apple.” You take a few bites but with your stomach still queasy and unable to take anymore, you give the rest to the poorly named steed. Once the bridle and tackle are secure you mount up despite the instant outcry from your legs. You find Yoongi watching you, taking notice but remaining silent. You’re grateful for his lack of discourse, not wanting to have to explain the tenderness of your ass and thighs owing to yesterday’s travel.

Regrettably, the aches become worse, and after only a couple hours of riding you’re barely able to stay upright. If Yoongi’s arms weren’t circling around you to keep hold of the reins you would have slid to the ground long ago. It seems that he’s no longer able to disregard your comfort though. “Are you well?”

“Relatively speaking, yes.” You whisper holding in a groan.

“Relative to what?”

“Relative to a week ago.” To your time with Taehyung. You grimace further with each mounted stride.

“I think your scale is skewed. We’ll slow for a bit. Though you might think differently, I have no desire to see you in pain.” He slows his steed to a walk and dismounts, letting you lean back as he leads the horse forward.

“This is nothing I promise. We should keep the pace up.”

“You wish to be rid of me so soon? Even if it causes you agony?”

“Yes.” Your short reply is enough to make him pause for a second, his face splitting into an open smirk before he continues again.

“Though I appreciate your honesty, the horse could use a break too.” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “You’ll have to learn how to hold that tongue of yours again once you return to court.”

You take in a sharp breath as a chill runs down your spine. You’ve been so focused on what you are running from you haven’t given thought as what you are running too. “Do you know much about my family, about my life back home?”

“Some.”

“You said I was the last remaining heir. There must have been a time when that wasn’t the case.”

“Your brother...” Yoongi explains, his gaze fixed on the road. “He passed away a few weeks ago. He was very ill, had been all his life.”

You take a deep breath as you register the news, but it’s hard to properly grieve when you can’t recall what you lost. “I wish I could remember-”

Yoongi must be taking pity on you as he delves further without your prompting. “You loved him very much, but you weren’t as close as you would have liked to have been. His ailment was unknown to many and it prevented him from spending much time with you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you told me.” He whispers, finally meeting your eyes again.

“Wh-what else do you know? Will you tell me?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Give it time and you’ll remember on your own. His hold won’t last forever.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t say more.”

“Because I don’t want to give you a false sense of your past, only to find out later that it was different than I thought, than I hoped. Your affection for your brother was obvious, but with other focuses of your adoration I cannot be sure. So please do not ask much of me. You’ve gone through enough, I have no wish to plant false regard for things you did not actually love.” While Yoongi continues to look up to you his expression takes a sudden shift. His nose lifts into the air and takes a deep breath, before his head snaps back at the road ahead. “Humans... four of them.”

Your heart leaps at the prospect, but Yoongi cuts your anticipation short. “Don’t get too hopeful. They are currently trying to conceal themselves on the path ahead. I doubt their motives are well intended.” He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair that had fallen out from your cap. “Stay on the horse and keep quiet. I’ll deal with them.”

“But-”

“For your own safety, please do what I ask.”

The trees growing around the road are thick and dense, your eyes dart between the trunks in hopes to catch movement, but with the forest cloaked in darkness you have little ability to find anything. Minutes pass and just as you are about to question Yoongi, you spot a man with tattered clothes lying in the middle of the dirt road ahead. Thinking he might be a victim of the others mentioned, you make an attempt to dismount. But Yoongi holds your hand firmly on the reins, while he calls out to the casualty. “The wounded traveller? Do people still fall for that?”

There’s a moment of silence before a man emerges from the forest to the left. “You’d be surprised,” he responds, while two more appear on the right.

The destitute wayfarer on the road gets up and dusts himself off. “It’s a shame you didn’t fall for our ploy, it’s much easier both for us and those who do, so much less blood. You look to be worth the effort though. I’m sure we could fetch a pretty penny for a steed like that.”

The four close in ranks and advance. Yoongi stays by your side, eyeing their approach, he gives a warning. “For your sake, I hope there will be no blood involved.”

“Is that a threat?” One of the highwaymen asks. “I should like to see how you plan on besting us without a blade.

The man closest to you, with a dagger drawn, reaches out to grab hold of your leg. “Come down off the horse lad. There's no point in putting off the inevitable, it’s ours now.” In spite of his weapon you ready to kick the man off, but before your foot can lay into him his grip is torn away. In the blink of an eye Yoongi is on the other side of the horse forcing the assailant to his knees with an arm behind his back. There’s a loud pop from the thief’s shoulder, resulting in a cry of pain. One of the other bandits charges to free his ally, his sword ready. Yoongi succeeds in dodging the initial thrust of the steel, and with one hand takes the saber, turning it instead on it’s owner. Your vampire escort issues another caution with the point at man’s throat.

“If you would like your friend to keep use of his arm then I suggest you all back away.” While the disarmed thief retreats backward with his hands in the air, the rest are frozen in place refusing to move. “You think I jest?” Yoongi’s grip tightens while his captive lets out a shout. The little effort used on the vampires part to make the man submit finally prompts his fellows to take two steps back. “I swore to my companion that no one would touch them on this journey. You’ve made me break that promise, and I am not pleased.” There’s a deep growl to his voice that sends chills through even you. “I should take this limb in payment, and maybe one from each in your party too.”

“Yoongi....” You whisper in a low tone.

He turns back to you with a slight smirk. “But you are lucky, my friend prefers mercy. It’s far more than you deserve.” Yoongi lowers his head muttering into the bandits ear. “I’ll tell you what. You may keep your arm, but you and your men will abandon your camp, head south and keep walking. You will tell no one of us, and if I ever come across your path again I will not hesitate to act on my threats.”

Yoongi releases the man allowing him to scramble away as he clutches his shoulder. The other three support their injured cohort as they run off.

Yoongi takes hold of the horse from the ground once again, leading you off the road. “Their camp it’s just this way. They might have had some supplies which will be of use to us.”

You only nod in response unsure of what to say, after what you just witnessed. The first humans you had interacted with in years, and here they intended to rob you.

The smoke of their smouldering fire draws you in. Yoongi’s hunch was right, they had a good deal of useful items. Rations for you, along with spare changes of clothes. He fills a bag and ties it on the saddle, leaving their stolen riches along with the blade behind for someone else to find.

He mounts up behind you again, carrying on forward for some time before speaking again. “Are you well your highness? You’ve been very quiet.”

You give him another nod, while chewing on your lip. “Why south?”

“That’s where my own clan’s territory lies. If they try to pull something like that again they’ll regret it.” He shifts in the saddle behind you, “Back there, I-I didn't scare you did I?”

You fall silent again, unable to confess he somewhat had, but also that the terror of your fellow mankind outweighed his by far. You fear the idea of having crossed them alone. They would have taken advantage of your mercy, who knows where you would be now if it weren’t for the self-proclaimed guard at your side.

Yoongi seems to take your lack of answer as confirmation of his worry. “I needed them to see me as a vicious monster, had they not backed off I would have had to become one. I’m sorry you had to witness the threat but it was necessary. I needed to terrify them for their sake and yours. I promise didn’t intend to frighten you, only to keep you safe. ”

...

Coming close to the break of day you find rest this time in a small abandoned house. The windows shuttered completely to prevent even the smallest stream of light from entering. Unlike the night before Yoongi doesn’t light the lantern. It’s so dark inside that he has to lead you to an empty space of floor for you to rest on. He takes a couple steps away, giving you some space before settling down himself once again between you and the door.

“I’m not going to run, you’ve made your point, or I should say the thieves did.”

“I don’t rest between you and the exit to keep you here, but to stop others from entering,” Yoongi explains. “These spots I’ve scoped out, I am not alone in using them. They are how my kind travels, some might have found different places to rest away from the sun, but I can tell that others have used this location. Don’t go examining your surroundings too closely, you might not like what you find.”

Now thankful for the darkness, you take your bed roll from Yoongi. “Rest easy,” he mutters as you climb in between in the blankets.

“Not likely,” you whisper back. “But thank you.”

Unfortunately you are correct, your sleep is once again disturbed by Taehyung. You catch a glimpse of his face before you're surrounded by him. The darkness holds you in a suffocating grip, your mouth slowly filling with blood. You struggle trying to breath reaching out to take a hold of anything that would pull you out.

A hand grabs on to the side of your face, another on to your arm. Finding the shine of Yoongi’s eyes once you're able to open your own, you gasp out to him begging for some sort of relief. “Can’t see... can’t breath...”

He picks you up only to set you back down on the floor a second later. There's a click and the front door opens to reveal a narrow shaft of sunlight. A single beam a couple inches wide, but it’s enough to dispel the darkness inside. Your eyes start to water, blinded by the light, but it’s far too warm and comforting to deny yourself the sight.

To your disgust there’s a lingering taste of blood in your mouth. Reminding you of the shackles that still bind you to Taehyung as it continues to overwhelm your senses. Yoongi’s voice flows from the darkness just to the side of the door, his eyes glowing like that of a predator’s. “I think you might have bitten your tongue in your sleep, your highness.”

He’s right, you find a sore spot as you press it to the roof of your mouth. You make an attempt to focus back on the sun. You sit there in silence letting your breath and heart return to a normal rate. All while Yoongi’s eyes continue to watch you, burning in the darkness. He apologizes for his gaze, but does not withdraw his attention, “Sorry but it’s been so long since I’ve seen someone bask in the sun. I’ve forgotten what it feels like myself...”

“How long?”

“I lost count around the century mark, but it’s likely been double that.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes, but I understand. Immortality is a large price to pay, and every monster must have an equal weakness.”

“But I suppose, not everything it repels is a monster.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow as if he’s hiding a small smile in the darkness. “Dare I say, that sounds almost like a compliment?”

“Merely an observation,” you whisper, but your words trigger something inside you, a pain and longing which you can’t explain. “Yoongi, what were we to one another before...” Before Taehyung interrupted your life. “Please I know you don’t wish to speak for me, but I need to know your view of what we were.”

“We were friends, just friends.” He responds but you're not convinced, just friends do not wait outside the home of their enemy for five years. Just friends don’t put their entire life on hold for another. Just friends aren’t overwhelmed with the desires that seem to be returning to you now.

You’ve seen this expression on him before, you know you have. On the edge of your memories lies a dark cavernous stone built hall, one in which only you and him resided. You find him crumbling under the weight of what he is and what he’s lost because of that. Fragments of your words and his surface in your mind.

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here... You would be better off if you forgot me entirely.”

You remember your wish to comfort him, to embrace him and prove that he has not lost everything because of what he is. With the recollection fading, falling from your grasp, you panic out of fear of losing the brief moment of memory. Closing the door you move towards Yoongi, the only focus you have of your previous life, hoping the scene in your mind might continue.

“I don’t need saving from you,” you mutter, blinded by the rapid loss of light, reaching out in an attempt to find him again.

He takes your hand and holds it, his cool fingers trailing soothing lines over the mark on your palm. “If not from me, then at least from my kind,” he responds, following the path of your dialogue from long before. “You remember our last meeting?”

“Only a fraction of it. I remember wanting to...” To confess to him, to kiss him, that was your past self was leaning towards. You thought well enough of him to desire an intimacy with one who feeds on others... that can’t be right. But even now you can start to see the appeal your younger self cared for. His soft touch on your hand, his calming presence, and protection, those are not qualities of a monster. And in the memory you were worried that he would reject your affection, that he would be the one to pull away, not you. “Did you ever desire to be more than friends?”

His eyes grow wide at your question, but his stance remains the same. “You know I will not answer that.”

“But this is regarding your feelings, not my own!”

“I will say no more of us. I’ve told you far too much already.” He leaves the topic at that, directing you to your present state instead. ”There’s a few more hours before sunset... do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

You shake your head and move to sit with your back against the boards of the wall. Your reply is slow to come, and muddled with the first gasp of tears. “I can’t...” The prospect of closing your eyes again is too terrifying.

Yoongi comes to sit beside you, as he continues to hold your hand, his other arm wraps your shoulders as you let out the pain. A couple of hours ago you would have pushed him away out of fear, but with the spark of your past self craving his presence, who are you to deny the support it needs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I have to keep my view from you. I don’t want to add to the damage that has been done.”

“There is not more damage that could be done. All I have to remember is a few months spent in agony and terror. How can I find comfort or rest when that is all I have? I have no knowledge of who or what made me happy, or of what dreams chased away the nightmares.”

“An adventure,” Yoongi mutters, his head bowed to the floor as he concedes with another part of your past. “You always dreamed of having an adventure.”

You let out a broken and weeping scoff, crestfallen that your ambitions to learn more only exposed a further divide. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Your parents were overprotective, because of your brother's condition. You were forced to keep to the castle, you just longed for something different.” His thumb rubs along the back of your hand as he holds it.

“But I don’t feel like one to see the risk of adventures as desirable.”

“You’ve been through much since then, fear has a way of changing what we want. I will admit I wished for you to be more careful back then, but never at a cost like this.”

“I don’t know if I will ever be that person again...” You draw your knees to your chest letting your head lull to the side and onto him.

“That’s okay,” His arm grips you tighter, as his face lowers to the top of your head. His lips briefly brush against your hair, before his cheek comes down to rest, taking their place. “That’s why I’m taking you home.”

...

#bts smut #yandere bts #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts thriller au #bts vampire au #yandere taehyung #min yoongi #kim taehyung #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #suga x reader #v x reader #bts blood bounty

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plan-d-to-i · 4 years ago

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the truth – at least to me – is that the closest from the novel, the better. for exemple, I am madly in love with the manhua and I love the audio drama. and, to be honest, yes. I hate the changes. Omg, I feel like if cql was an adaptation of something else, I would like It a lot, but it's from mdzs. they changed the small details, which are the ones that make the whole point?! wtf is up with wx's relationship in the past?? wwx and the whole Wen remnants mistreatment stuff??? wwx making lwj drink against his will?? omg,

I hate it

what build their relationship were the small details, the fact that they were not really friends, not really enemies, not really lovers, not really had a classification bc— it was very fucked up because of the circumstances and miscommunication!!!! the whole point is that they are not so close yet, lwj couldn't do anything insane to help yet, they didn't know they were soulmates yet!! in cql, it feels like wwx is doing to lwj the same that he does to the Jiang siblings, pushing him away to protect him from the dc to keep lwj's reputation safe or something, when. WangXian Essential Point Is That Wwx Does Not Need To Risk Himself Or Be Alone To Protect Lwj, bc, for the first time, somebody who he loves is strong enough! can keep themselves on their own feet!

IS GOING TO HELP HIM, NOT TO SCOLD FOR DOING THE RIGHT THING!!!

and the personalities— oh fuck, I WAS ROBBED! give the fuck to me my wwx who wants to fucking eat the rabbits, who was glad to be expulsed from lqr's class, the one who doesn't cry much and the one who actually has A LOT OF EMOCIONAL CONTROL!!! GIVE MY MAN BACK!!! AND WTF IS UP WITH THE WAY HE DIED ON CQL???!!! DID THEY REALLY WANT TO CLEAN IT UP TO JC SO BAD??? THEY! EVEN! MADE! WEN QING! HELP WEN RUOHAN!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUUUCKK!! MAKE JGY MAKE THE 'EVIL' THINGS WWX DID FOR SELF DEFENSE??!! WWX WAS AMBUSHED, THAT'S WHY HE ATTACKED!

Wwx never moved to harm people without provocation!

so, yeah. they lost the point of the whole fucking thing with the changes. what the FUCK AND THE WHOLE FANDOM ACTS LIKE THIS SHIT IS CANON!!! they do be thinking wwx's demoniac cultivation is bad for his health and is going to kill him💔 that JC is a little meow meow who did nothing to deserve that end 💔💔 wwx moraly gray 💔💔💔 RESENTFUL ENERGY CONTROLLING AND AFECTING HIM 💔 I HATE THIS ONE SO MUCH WHY THE FUCK DID THEY MAKE THIS?! wwx can't be attacked and attack back without an explanation? fuck, he was attacked, that's the explanation! that's why he killed so many!!

and I didn't say even half! so, in this essay, I will—

haha I love the formatting of this, I completely agree with you. Also love the art style in the manhua, love the audio drama etc. BUT I can't believe you made me read "JC is a little meow meow" with my own eyes.

I'd just add- personally even if cql were an adaptation of something else I would still have problems with the plot having loose ends and the flow of the story- but it's true that comparing it to mdzs makes its shortcomings all the more glaring. AND not only did they make Wen Qing help Wen Ruohan w the Yin Iron ©Yang Xia bs, but they ALSO made her put up w jc's: here's a comb but leave your fam to die love ballad.

#cql negative #answers

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weirdmageddon · 4 years ago

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my rheumatologist has done more for me towards getting a POTS diagnosis than my cardiologist thats kinda sad bro

i came in to the cardiologist the other day (finally after waiting MONTHS) hoping for a tilt table test to see how my heart rate and blood pressure react to orthostasis in a controlled setting. the doctor didnt actually do a thing to test me for it in-office, i was just told to schedule an echo (which is fine), holster (alright) and stress test (why). but i was also prescribed eastern medicine as a treatment....“superbrain yoga”? like i dont want to seem closeminded because she is an indian doctor and there are some things that western medicine hasn’t caught on to but i realy wish i was told why it is supposed to work. like i want to know physiologically how and why it supposedly works. get technical and mechanical with me bro i have le autism, thats my language if you wanna really convince me. if it’s about toning up the muscles in my legs to squeeze the blood into my core upon standing why dont i just do squats? why do i have to do all this really specific stuff like hold my tongue at the roof of my mouth and face east, crossing my arms (right arm must go over left) and maneuver my hands in a certain way to grab my earlobes while doing those squats? is that merely a concentration sort of thing to make your brain focus? if so, why not just let me know what the purpose to these specific movements are (and what does focusing my brain have to do with treating POTS symptoms anyway)?? i’m not a spiritual person so the spiritual aspects of it do nothing for me. but at least i wasn’t given intensive aerobic exercise because i cant do that lol. i was just prescribed core strength training with planks and crunches (fine with me) and “superbrain yoga” (the specifics still confuse me but i’m doing it anyway)

but i didnt even get a tilt table test while i was there, i asked about it and she said “we stopped doing tilt table tests a while ago” and i was like ????????? thats like the gold standard to test for POTS my guy. based on just my symptoms she said i had dysautonomia and i asked “what about POTS?” and she said “it could be” and i was like ? could be? bro you didnt even test for it?

the whole visit just felt really vague and dismissive to my issues (yet again). fucking even my rheumatologist said before this visit to the cardiologist that i “probably have POTS”

so when i left the cardiologist the other day i wrote this up because i was very upset, felt dismissed, and took matters into my own hands to show what kind of medical concepts i’m capable of comprehending and the kind of language i want doctors to talk to me about my conditions in. and today i read it to my rheumatologist during today’s appointment:

the cardiologist says i have dysautonomia, “caused by dysfunction of the small blood vessels”. in the clinic, the nurse measured my laying vs standing blood pressure (which increased rather than decreased) but they didn’t do my heart rate there for some reason. but on my own i’ve measured my heart rate to jump above 30 bpm within 10 minutes of standing, so with all the symptoms lining up exactly with what’s expected of POTS (heart rate increase greater than 30 bpm within 10 minutes of standing, no drop in blood pressure, lightheadedness, brain fog, palpitations, prolonged fatigue, heat intolerance, excessive sweating etc), i’m convinced that the type of dysautonomia i specifically have is POTS, not just the umbrella term “dysautonomia”, and the specific brand of POTS i have is the neuropathic POTS subtype which is thought to be caused by sympathetic denervation (partial autonomic neuropathy) in the lower extremities. this causes the blood vessels in my legs not to constrict as they should when standing, which in turn causes blood to pool in the legs and not return to the heart, causing the heart to have to source its blood supply from elsewhere in the meantime to compensate (with an overall lower venous return), driving up the heart rate and causing lightheadedness. my blood tests also showed i am also very slightly anemic by 0.1 point below the normal range (11.6 g/dL) the resulting denervation hypersensitivity from the sympathetic denervation what is thought to cause erythromelalgia—which i express all the hallmark symptoms of as well in my feet (redness, increased skin temperature, burning sensation (feels like walking on a hot pool deck), cold to touch and bluish purple when not actively flaring, flaring occurs at night, symptoms worsen with exposure to heat and exercise (including walking on feet while flaring) and are relieved with cooling and elevation). i have no response to the cold unlike with what is seen in raynauds. i actually consider cold exposure my savior; the heat is my worst enemy, it makes me feel faint and lightheaded dysautonomia-wise and it makes my feet flare up rheumatologically.

“Several previous investigations have provided clues that patients with the postural tachycardia syndrome have peripheral autonomic dysfunction. Streeten et al. found that patients with orthostatic tachycardia had excessive venous pooling in the legs while standing and suggested that denervation of the legs was a mechanism of the syndrome. This hypothesis was supported by the finding of hypersensitivity to infusion of norepinephrine into the veins of the foot, despite high plasma catecholamine concentrations. [...] These stimuli increased norepinephrine spillover in the arms of both the patients with the postural tachycardia syndrome and the normal subjects, with similar increases in the two groups, but failed to increase norepinephrine spillover in the legs of the patients. [...] The reduced clearance of norepinephrine in the legs, without a similar reduction in the arms, may result from impairment of norepinephrine-reuptake mechanisms due to isolated damage to nerve terminals in the legs. [...] CONCLUSIONS: The neuropathic postural tachycardia syndrome results from partial sympathetic denervation, especially in the legs.” — (https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJM200010053431404)

“The laser Doppler flowmetry signal after sympathetic stimulation of reflexes mediated through the central nervous system, was significantly diminished in patients with erythromelalgia as compared with healthy controls. [...] Vasoconstrictor responses involving central sympathetic reflexes were attenuated in erythromelalgia. Local neurogenic vasoconstrictor regulation, vasodilator response to local heating and hyperemic response to ischemia were maintained. [...] The finding of reduced skin perfusion before provocation is in accordance with the clinical observations that many erythromelalgia patients exhibit cold acral skin between attacks. [...] These results indicate that postganglionic sympathetic dysfunction and denervation hypersensitivity may play a pathogenetic role in primary erythromelalgia.” — (https://linkinghub.elsevier.com/retrieve/pii/S0022-202X(15)41629-X)

“Denervation hypersensitivity is a phenomenon peculiar to smooth muscle innervated by the general visceral efferent system. Following denervation there is increased sensitivity of the muscle to neurotransmitters. This is evident in smooth muscle innervated by sympathetic neurons when the postganglionic axon is affected. Such denervated muscle shows hypersensitivity to the application of epinephrine or to circulating epinephrine released during excitement.” — (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780721605616500198)

although my rheumatologist is in no position to give me a POTS diagnosis she very much agreed with the connections i made and said she thinks i am right on the mark with my conditions. she told me im a real academic patient and even that i’d be well suited for going into medicine lol. not only is it refreshing to have a doctor that doesn’t disregard their patient’s knowledge, but it’s good to see what i’ve learned about nerves from my biopsych classes (and in my own time for funsies) paying off in ways concerning my health. my mom who is a nurse also agrees that neuropathic POTS and erythromelalgia are what i have.

anyway the POTS symptoms have been a massive thing for me since puberty and the erythromelalgia developed a year or so after my POTS symptoms started. but i’ve always had freezing cold clammy hands and feet since i was a young child, they just hadn’t started changing colors and flaring until after i hit puberty. i’m not sure what destroyed the sympathetic nerve fibers in my legs (as most POTS happens in teenagers due to some viral illness but i’ve never had that?), i was also just tested for a bunch of autoimmune factors and disorders and my results came back negative. maybe it’s just a genetic factor, who knows, probably something caused by a hormone’s cascading effect gone awry at some point. it seems a lot of autistic afab people have POTS or some other type of dysautonomia for some reason and i’m curious as to why.

anyway i’m really stuck in a liminal space because i have no official diagnosis beyond “dysautonomia” but i’ve been sure of what it is for like over a year and it keeps getting clearer and clearer that i was right all along

#pots #dysautonomia #erythromelalgia #chronic illness

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loveylangdon · 5 years ago

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Go To Town

Word Count: 4.2k

soft jj x best friend reader

A/N: I have no idea why but 'Go To Town’ by Doja Cat reminds me of JJ (listen it if you want to), so I came up with this lil scenrio based off the song but not really? but who doesn’t love a good dance sesh to tease a cute boy. Just some cute JJ love tbh, everyone has the angsty, hard ass jj heres a lil content smol jj. This is my first jj fic so pls be kind. truly a white mans whore so i’ll include my masterlist for my other writings Xx

*not my gif credit to owner*

y/n p.o.v.

“If you're down, boy, really down, baby let me watch you go to town” You and Kie screamed at the top of your lungs dancing on the Pogue. It was your turn to pick the music playlist for the day out on the marsh and you had more of an open love for all music. When it was your turn to pick the playlist it was a bit of everything everyone loved but today you just wanted to let loose and have fun. You vibed heavy with the reggae and soft jazz the boys usually picked or the pop-rock JJ chose, but you wanted to have more fun before the kegger tonight. Your vibe was usually infectious and you wanted the others to be able to let loose. Hence listening to some Doja Cat in the middle of nowhere with also the slight hope of catching JJ’s attention more so than usual.

Your cousin came down from the mainland and showed you some new artists and ‘Go to Town’ by Doja Cat was on her playlist which reminded you of your little blonde hair blue eyed crush. JJ Maybank possibly royalty amongst the pogues and rightfully so with his charm, good looks, and his ability to fix basically anything he was a guy every girl wanted to sleep with. But to you he was an angel in disguise. Glancing over at him you saw him smirking behind his beer bottle and looking at you intently in your swimsuit dancing with Kie. “Go down, go down, go down, go to town” You and Kie kept screaming out “and she shave it all off Charlie Brown with it” dropping down and dancing on each other. John B laughing and throwing his head back, Pope smiling like an idiot, Sarah refusing to dance provocatively with you two trying to hold on to John B’s arm for dear life. Today was gonna be good. You had JJ’s attention from the moment you stepped on the boat and that’s all you wanted even if it was because you were currently grinding with Kie.

Together but not together, you and JJ were in this endless cycle of teasing and flirting constantly but today you were winning. Watching him while dancing on Kie you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. Making sure your eyes were locked for most of the provocative parts of the song or when you dropped lower than normal. Watching how his eyes get a deeper shade of blue and how he was holding on tighter to the neck of the beer bottle John B handed him before you guys anchored down. Smiling to yourself you turned and gave Kie your full attention again dancing and acting foolish screaming lyrics to the wise words of Doja Cat “If he don’t eat it, he a D-bag, He can use a submarine, I’ll call him seaman”

You were kind of this untouchable girl in the group, maybe even a better girl version of JJ easier to tame. Young, wild and free. Pretty, smart, fun always up for adventure but you had the spirit of Pope calculating and thinking things through but you knew when to let go. The perfect balance, Smart and quick on your feet, great at getting out of certain situations you became the mediator for Pogues and Kooks. Not being much of either you were what they would call a “Pookie” in the middle, not exactly a full Pogue but not much farther from being a Kook but not good enough either. However the group accepted you far quicker than they accepted Sarah Cameron, pure at heart and no ill intentions just wanting to have fun, Plus it didn’t hurt that you stopped Rafe from attacking them the first time you met them on the island. After they knew you were badass and down to earth how could the 3 boys refuse to let you in their secret club. Kie joined later which you were thankful for, loving your boys endlessly for 4 years but you couldn’t say no to another girl to help keep these boys corralled.

While being associated with the Pogues it didn’t stop Kook guys trying to get at you. You were invited on figure 8 anytime as well as the cut. Princess of peace some would call you, you could get Kelce and Rafe to back down from a fight more often than not. Rafe not wanting to get on your bad side because you had a fire in your eyes and he wouldn’t want to hurt his chance of possibly getting laid if the “opportunity arises” you would never but it didn’t hurt to make him think so. Being Pookie came with power. Being able to control Rafe meant power over the Kooks. Hurting you could hurt Mr. Cameron’s business in some ways, you didn’t have a big mouth but you never forget what happens, you’re a more credible person to believe than the Pogues if it came to spilling some of Rafe’s secrets. And Rafe never forgot that. So he played nice-ish when you were present. Plus it didn’t hurt that he was attractive. So what if you flirted and hung out with them once in a blue moon. Young, Wild, and free.

Again though JJ, JJ Maybank was it. You guys were without a doubt each other’s person. You weren’t going to make the first move you were gonna let JJ do it. Watching him mack on Tourons hurt but nothing your friends and some fun couldn’t fix. You and him were endgame anyways so why fret over what’s inevitable. That’s what you told yourself. You were confident and you definitely had that boy wrapped around your finger. Knowing each other’s quirks, body language, food taste, being each other’s other half you guys had mastered for a couple of years now. Up until recently the tides have shifted your guy’s love for each other grew in a way neither of you suspected but it didn’t change anything. Maybe more lingering touches, a couple more conscious forehead kisses or escorts home. Yet the blue-eyed angel still couldn’t make it official so you did what you do best tease him any chance you got.

“D to the TF, got your bf in my DM, got him all up in my hair” You make your way over to where Popes sitting pointing your finger at him to join you and Kie.

“No-No” Pope lets out moving to get up, you wink at Kie who is laughing at Popes wide-eyed frantic figure who finally figured out what the songs about while trying to maneuver in the small boat. You and Kie finally get pope stuck between you two “cause I can’t believe my eyes and her man between my thighs” you and Kie keep screaming. Peaking over Pope’s shoulder you see JJ watching you “And it’s clean but messy like a pizza” you sing right at him making eye contact, you see the blue-eyed boy shift uncomfortably in his seat adjusting his swim trunks, eyes locked on you. You wink at him and see pink dust his cheeks as he clears his throat.

Turning to John B with a smile on your face makes Sarah squeal, “My boyfriend too y/n” she lets out, fake shock evident in her tone

“Sorry Cameron I don’t have a boyfriend so I need to steal yours” you giggle holding your hand out for John B who has his hand over his heart and an awe look on his face flattered you chose him. He kisses Sarah on the forehead and stands up leading you next to Kie and Pope “If your down boy really down, Baby let me watch you go to town” you’re back is to John B’s chest dancing to the beat yelling out the lyrics, you feel John B place his hands on your waist and see Kie trying to get Sarah to join you guys.

You feel heat on your waist and it's not John B’s hands, someones staring at you, looking over to JJ you see him glaring at John B’s hands holding onto your hips, guiding you to the beat. Rolling your eyes at JJ you huff, only JJ would get jealous over a guy who has a girlfriend and still not do anything about it. Pope went to go sit next to JJ since Kie left him to drag Sarah to dance before the song ended. You leave John B and dance your way over to Kie and Sarah.

“No, No, No” Sarah squeals when you grab her wrist and Kie grabs the other you guys get her to stand up and push her to the front of the boat for the last chorus. Squishing Sarah between you and Kie you guys are lazily grinding on each other with the three boys sitting at the front of the boat whooping and hollering at your antics “let me see you go to town, baby, go to town yeah”

Making eye contact with JJ again you notice his tensed features, his jaws clenched and he’s biting his lip, his hairs messed up and you assume from him tugging on it. His eyes snap up to your face knowing he got caught checking you out he smirks opening his legs wider as if daring you to go to him and do your worst.

“Baby let me watch you go to town,” you say making your way over to the boys, John B’s eyes widen hitting JJ on the shoulder “Oh my god” Pope lets out

You make grabby hands to JJ, grabbing his hand that was covering his crotch innocently grazing his chest making pope let out a whistle, JJ stands up immediately taking your hand in his smirking while a goofy smile graces his features. You walk him to the middle of the boat turning your back to his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist immediately, you can feel his breath against your ear as he holds onto you tighter. Rocking your guy’s body’s together to the beat, you lean your head back and whisper into his ear “It’s your one chance, baby, never or now yeah” you hear him groan gripping you tighter if possible. Giggling you push your ass against his crotch and hear him gasp “Okay that’s it” He lets out with a clenched jaw and you unravel yourself from him and go back to dancing with Sarah and Kie again “Go down, go down, go down, Yeah let me see you go to town” Screaming when the songs over and the next one starts to play you guys laugh turning around looking at the boys who just sit there or stand in JJ’s case with a shocked expression

“What the hell is wrong with you guys,” Kie asks crossing her arms, “You’re killing the buzz” she whines while Sarah walks over to John B and climbs in his lap causing you to laugh

Pope clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out causing you and Kiara to laugh “Look y/n you broke Pope” and Pope looks offended

“No, she didn’t,” Pope says but his voice cracked causing everyone to laugh

“I haven’t seen y/n dance like that since the party with Rafe” Sarah comments teasingly and suddenly everyone gets quiet. Kie rolls her eyes at Sarah for even mentioning him

“Okay, y’all act like you’ve never heard a song like that chill” you chuckle going to the cooler to grab a beer and take a drink

“No we have but like wow that was so-” Pope starts out with hand movements and everything but Kie shoots him a look raising her eyebrow

“So what Pope?” She asks and you go to say something but JJ cuts you off

“That was hot, like really hot not gonna lie I liked it, I liked it a lot actually” JJ speaks up from where he’s standing on the boat looking at you. John B hits him upside the head “Bro what the fuck” JJ lets out turning to look at John B

“Stop being gross” John B states matter of factly “They’re having fun they don’t need a perv ruining it”

You give them a confused look “Okay I’m going to swim, coming Kie?” You ask as she nods. Diving into the marsh instantly cools off your body, you hear Kie jump in after you. Swimming to the other side of the boat. The boys and Sarah out of view you hear Kie next to you

“So JJ is still a dumbass” she huffs out rolling her eyes in the direction of JJ. Giggling at her you shake your head and she goes to speak up about his failed attempt to get down with you to Doja Cat when you guys hear JJ whisper shout trying to be quiet, you shoot a look to Kie and raise a finger to your lips telling her to be quiet while she nods

“Okay I stand corrected that was hot. Pope you should be worried about Kie leaving you for y/n did you see the way Kie went in after her” JJ lets out a whistle and you and Kie giggle quietly moving your arms around to make it seem like y’all are still swimming

“Shut up” Pope lets out exasperated

“No Pope listen I’m serious that was so hot like y/n dived flawlessly she’s perfect and the way Kie followed right after her like girl on girl action it just-”

You snorted looking over at Kie who had an eyebrow raised, you made kissy faces at her until she splashed you. You could imagine JJ using his hands to emphasize his point

“You’re disgusting JJ” you heard Sarah let out which caused you and Kie to start giggling until you heard a splash of water assuming it was Sarah. You and Kie swam a little ways from the boat to not give away that you two were snooping

“Great, you pissed off Sarah great going JJ” you could faintly hear John B huff

“What guys I’m being honest, you’re gonna tell me that wasn’t even a little bit hot,” JJ asks and you can see his arms extended out

“Okay JJ yes but we don’t say that shit out loud” you hear Pope mumble. Your head shot straight to Kie who has a shocked expression on her face at Popes sudden small outburst and then to Sarah

“You little snakes you heard them” Sarah gasps out

“Sarah shut up oh my god, it’s so fun to tease them” you flick water at her and head to swim back to the boat seeing John B and Pope join the girls in the water. The water had done its job cooling you off you wanted to tan.

Climbing back into the boat you hear a whistle coming from JJ “Take a picture it’ll last longer” you let out reaching for your towel to dry off

“Only if you let me take pictures of the entire view and” he pauses popping the ‘and’ while pointing his finger at you “you stay wet” JJ lets out biting his lip as you shoot him a fake glare. He’s reaching for your waist and you let him pull you to sit down between his legs

You pout “I wanted to tan”

“To bad come keep me company” he smiles pulling you down, kissing the crown of your forehead nothing unusual but it didn't stop the butterflies from forming in the pit of your stomach

“How you feeling,” You ask him as he wraps a towel around your figure before wrapping his arms around you. Knowing he didn’t get in the water because of his recent fight with his dad. His bruises were taking a little longer to heal than normal and he didn’t want anyone worrying about him. You helped apply cream to them but he couldn’t stay out of trouble long enough for it to heal properly.

“I’m perfect right now” he hums in content and you move to look up at him, his chin is resting in the crook of your shoulder and his eyes are closed, his arms wrapped across your torso holding you close to his chest. The sun is hitting his face perfectly making his blonde locks glow and there’s a sense of calm he holds. He looks content, at peace and all you could ever ask for was this boy to feel all the love in the world and a part of you hoped he felt that with you. Placing a soft kiss on his chin you feel him shift, you turn your body to watch the rest of the Pogues in the water. They’re having a splash war and you can’t help but let out a giggle at the girls trying to take down John B.

“You missed,” JJ says

“Missed what?” You ask confused eyes still on your friends in the water

“You missed” He lets out annoyed at the lack of attention you’re paying to him

“JJ what the fuck are you-” His hand grabs your chin turning you to him quickly cutting you off and his lips are on yours.

Your lips melt into his instantly. His hand goes to hold the side of your face in his hand, tilting your head a bit to deepen the kiss. You feel like your heart is going to fall out of your chest. His other hand goes to pinch your ass as you let out a gasp he uses that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. Attempting to fight for dominance you gladly let him win. He tasted like beer and spearmint with a hint of weed he probably smoked earlier. It was addicting.

Pulling away for a quick second he groans, his eyes still closed you can see him rolling his eyes like breaking away from him was the end of the world. You place quick pecks onto his lips while moving to straddle his lap, you feel him smirk against you. Pulling you closer to him, he has one hand on your ass holding you to him and the other holding the side of your cheek to keep you close, you pull his bottom lip into your mouth sucking on it as he groans. Pulling away reluctantly both of his hands find their way to the bottom of your ass.

Opening your eyes looking at him he sits with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face, eyes closed, lips red and swollen. He looks like a kid in a candy store and you can’t help but let out a giggle. Placing your hands on either side of his neck you lean into him and place a couple of kisses on his lips he happily partakes in and you can feel his smile widening if even possible. Pulling away you’re met with blue eyes and a smirk. You lean up to place a kiss on his forehead as soon as you place it there his face nuzzles into your boobs and you can’t help but laugh and he groans “you’re so perfect, fuck” he speaks into your skin playfully biting your chest

Tangling your hand in his hair behind his neck, you gently pull him away from your boobs, he leans in planting another kiss on you quickly “I like this” he places another kiss on your lips “I like this a lot” he whispers to you as you break away for the third time.

Trying to chase his lips with yours you nod at him “Yeah?” you smirk tugging at the hair gently on the back of his neck, tilting your head a little more back feigning innocent while he groans moving his hands to hold the side of your face to keep you from moving away any further

Something flashes across his face you haven’t seen before causing you to furrow your eyebrows together and then his eyes go soft and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to melt into a puddle “Yeah I like this a lot actually” he breaths out in a sincere whisper placing a kiss on your nose, you scrunch it up as he places gentle kisses all over your face until you’re pushing his face away to stop him you guys are both left laughing, He plays with a few strands of your hair just looking at you as if he’s trying to remember every little detail as if he didn’t know it by heart already

“Um what are you guys doing,” Pope asks from the side of the boat with a questionable look only Pope could make

“Pope what the fuck man” JJ lets out pinching the bridge of his nose glaring at him. You move to get up and grab JJ another beer, noticing John b climb into the boat as well. “Can’t you see I’m trying to make magic happen” JJ gestures towards your standing finger and you scoff placing a hand on your hip

“You’re gonna need a lot of magic JJ little Pookie here has a wide range of options” John B teases knowing JJ gets all defensive when your other affiliated party is mentioned the Kooks

“She’s mine and everyone knows it” JJ scoffs crossing his arms making his biceps bulge a little bit

“My brother doesn’t” Sarah chimes in climbing into the boat next to you and you try to stifle your laugh at JJ fuming. Kie climbs aboard and starts arguing with JJ alongside Sarah about the logistics of a relationship and what that entails. You’re sure you hear something about ownership and women’s rights and you can’t help but smile at your friends being idiots

John B pats the seat next to him for you to sit down, clinking his beer with yours or was suppose to be JJ’s “Salud” he chuckles ruffling your hair “I think Pookie is finally a Poguie, we can talk about custody over him later” he jokes

“No” you hear JJ say over the music holding his hand to Kie’s face to shush her while pointing a finger over at the two of you “actually, she had full custody the entire time” you hear JJ shout over Kie trying to shove JJ in the water

“Whose pussy whipped now,” John B asks him raising an eyebrow making everyone burst into laughter and Pope lets out a low whistle

“I don’t know ask Rafe-” JJ started which earned a shocked expression from you that lasted 2 seconds and a knowing look from Sarah before Kie finally pushed him over the edge and into the marsh resulting in a gasp from him and a content smiley Kiara

“I’m sure Rafe would gladly go to town with y/n, he’ll take his one chance” Kie yelled towards him and a bunch of “oohs” come from everyone before she continues “Hmm actually let's put that on the playlist for the kegger tonight see what prince Kook wants to do with princess Pookie” She goes to put her hand on her chin pouting her lips earning a nod from Pope

“That's it you’re dead” JJ pushes himself up into the boat and immediately grabs onto Kie throwing her back into the marsh, turning around he headed straight for Sarah

“JJ no, JJ-” Sarah screams out when he nears her “John B I swear if you let him-” but it's too late JJ is holding her bridal style in his arms tossing her over into the marsh

“Sorry Kook you’re related to the guy can’t have you spying on us revealing intel” He salutes the two girls in the water going to sit in between your legs on the floor of the boat, his back against the seat

“Yeah he’s pussy whipped” Pope states pointing a finger towards you guys, JJ fake glares at him taking off his cut tank that is now soaked due to Kie pushing him in. Hoping it'll dry before the kegger tonight, you wrap a towel around his wet figure playing with his blonde hair and placing a kiss on the top of his head

“Jokes on you Pope” JJ starts shooting him a look “I’m about to be treated like a king” JJ leans back shaking his wet hair into your lap which causes a groan from John B who was in the splash zone “Beer me women” he shouts holding his arms out earning a smack to his chest from John B, rolling your eyes you hand him the beer that was originally intended for him. He raises the bottle as the girls climb into the boat glaring at him. A shit eating grin on his face “Salud” which earns a chorus of saluds back and a “how does he do it” from Pope causing everyone to burst into laughter while he starts the boat up to head back to the chateau.

The sun, the water, your boy and friends. Pogue style.

______

A/N: this is my first jj writing and she isn’t edited v much I wanted to get it out bc this idea has been in my head and I think about it every time I listen to the song, and its on my summer playlist rip. This could be a two parter? the ending was kinda meh because I was torn between dragging it out and giving it an ending. Either way I hope you enjoyed it. Any feedback or commentary is welcomed my inbox is always open, I hope yall are staying safe Xx

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj #maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj obx #jj x you #obx #outerbanks #john b imagine #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #obx imagine #outerbanks imagine

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minkmousesworld · 4 years ago

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Hi! I was scrolling through your blog and oh mah lord its amazing 🥺. May I request a forest!au raccoon dog!Tanjiro x snow leopard!reader where the reader is injured, crying and shaking and Tanjiro is trying to calm them down? It's Oki if you can't! I hope you're staying safe and hydrated! Also, don't forget to take breaks bby 🤍

- 🌌

hello, honeymouse♡ thank you for your request! I wasn't sure exactly how you wanted it done, so I left it to my choice. I hope you like it! thank you so much for being so sweet. don't forget to rest and drink water♡

⌞ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ⌝

𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢: forest au

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: UST, comforting, mention of blood (wounds), mention of panic, mention of escape

𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰): raccoon dog! Tanjirou Kamado x snow leopard! Reader

writer's note: as I was advised, after I completed the request, I fell asleep... and recently I woke up because of the alarm clock, which I put on "just in case". and I realized that I didn't publish. ouch. also! it's so cute when you use au names(´ ω `♡)

Winter.

In your home, in the mountains, it was almost always winter. Pure snow lay on the mountains, untouched by the hot sun or the footprints of others; except that mountain goats and other snow leopards touched it. And you were comfortable with such a neighborhood.

Down below, it was different. Even the air here wasn't as clean, but it was easier to breathe in. You'd even enjoy it.

If only your lungs weren't burning from running for so long.

When you stepped on the fresh snow with your broad paws, you left shallow, bloody footprints, which the snowfall immediately covered up, covering your tracks. It was hard to move, every step was like stepping on sharp stones, but you tried to get as far away as possible, limping and gasping for breath.

Even if you had no idea where this road would lead you.

The wind began to howl even rougher, driving you forward in icy gusts. The blood flowed more slowly, took on a maroon color and froze on you in thin lines. Even the thick fur didn't help with the cold, which was chilling to the bone.

It seemed that with each breath of frosty, dead air, everything inside you cooled and froze. Trapped in the forest, you had no idea where to go to find shelter.

Running away from one death led you to another. You tried to wipe away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and prevented you from seeing further.

Too much stress.

You snuggled up against the tree and buried your nose in the bark, catching your breath. Memories of the past flashed slowly before your eyes, as if frozen. The moment when you were born, when you lived in a cave; when your mother first took you on a Groundhog hunt; when she said that "a good Snow leopard always knows their snow, and a bad Snow leopard dies in the mud".

When she left and you were alone, surrounded by snow and caves. It wasn't something painful, although at first it was unusual to realize that the only reason you might want to see other snow leopards is "mating season". But soon moving forward, finding a cave to sleep in, and getting food was all you cared about.

While the inhabitants of the forest built burrows, formed pairs and hid from the rains and snows, you ran around the mountains, balanced between cliffs and killed future food, sometimes breaking down from the mountains with prey in your teeth, just to make sure that you would have food.

Until They came.

Wrapping a long tail around your leg, you tried to hide from the wind behind a thick trunk with the last of your strength. They smelled of blood and dead things, and you were running faster than you knew what was happening. That alone saved your life.

"Strangers always bring trouble" — that's what your mother told you. She was a very wise snow leopard. [If you had the strength left, you would hope that They didn't reach her, she deserved more].

You put your arms around your shoulders, hugged your knees to your chest, and hid your face in them. The wind will soon stop, and you will be able to find food for yourself. Then go back... there will be no strangers there. You hope for this and that you will find your way back.

Your eyes were uncomfortably close from crying, and your cheeks ached from the cold. It was morning by your biological clock, the time when it was time for you to fall asleep in a cave, tucked into a strategically advantageous corner.

Your head was spinning — from the other air, from the cold, or from fear, you didn't know. The body that had carried you forward on pure fear and lust for life was now a weak meat that needed to rest. Perhaps a little sleep will help you feel better ... Thick fur will protect you from frostbite, frozen wounds from the cold will not disturb.

The wind became weaker. You were sure that by the time you woke up, there would be no wind at all, or it would be very weak. The spirits of the Mountains are merciful to those who need their mercy.

But you couldn't rest.

The smell (pleasant, tart, a stranger) suddenly came up to you. Following the smell, you heard the soft rasp of snow. Something was creeping up on you.

They. They found you.

You didn't understand when you abruptly got to your feet, one paw gripping the trunk of a tree to keep from falling, and when your body became so weak that the sudden rise made you dizzy. It wasn't important.

Your entire body was focused on the outsider, who, meanwhile, was in no hurry to come out of hiding. It was sitting in a thicket of thin branches, and at first you thought you were imagining it.

Before something jerked their ear and you froze in horror. Your throat is parched from the cold; even if you could speak, what would you do? Purred?

Your fingers ached, and you knew that with claws as broken as yours, you would rather catch on to this creature than scratch it. Run away? But where? What if it gets you faster?

Meanwhile, the creature twitched its ear again and... crawled out. It looked a little like a gopher: round, small ears; intelligent, curious eyes. Only the color of this creature was dark, which made it perfectly hide in the bushes and near the trees, but it looked like a bright spot against the background of snow.

When it came out of hiding, looking timidly at you, you didn't move.

It (he? she? the creature looked androgynous, and you didn't understand what gender it was) looked defenseless and tiny, like a weak herbivore that was attracted by an unfamiliar smell. So it wasn't a threat.

Herbivores do not attack without provocation.

But it began to come closer, coming too aggressively fast in front of the bushes.

"Shhh...", the creature stretched out its arms, "it's fine…"

And you staggered back in horror and fell to the snow. The creature paused, letting you catch your breath a few times before starting to get closer. Tears began to gather in his eyes again, making the creature blurry.

But you didn't even try to wipe away the tears.

"Don't cry... It's okay… Don't be afraid of me…"

The creature stretched out its arms. Checkered clothes, hair in a short ponytail, short stature. If you run now, it might catch up. Better to bite. Poor view to aim at the neck.

Even if the review was good, you wouldn't jump at it. Just running.

But it seems to have understood your intentions.

"Wait! I really---"

You immediately rushed back, but fell due to weakness in your hands.

The tears began to gather in her eyes even faster. Your chest ached even more, and you couldn't stand it anymore, sobbing, shaking, trying to crawl as far away as possible. Your body ached for pain and resentment, for your weakness, but your mind screamed that it would devour you, strangers bring only trouble.

The creature stopped. Then it reached into the bag (which, it turns out, was behind its back), and took out something.

Meat.

"You must be hungry," it said softly. "I just want to feed you. Will you let me?"

You couldn't take your eyes off the meat. Not yet frozen, large… you were sure you could smell it. Your body began to whine about hunger, your mind was silent.

"Here, food… I'll just come over to give, okay? I'll leave right away"

The creature crouched, became even smaller and more defenseless, and slowly began to come closer. When it was at the minimum safe distance, it carefully threw a piece of meat closer to you. And then it went away, as promised; timidly (I think, even with regret) looked at you and... went behind the bushes.

And you were left alone. The meat was softer than you thought, but a little bitter. Maybe it was a little rude to chase the creature away like that. On the other hand, what if it was afraid of your reaction and therefore ran away? You just wanted to protect yourself.

With such thoughts, having been sated and warmed, you fell asleep. And even the wounds seemed to hurt less.

◇◇◇

You didn't know what you were dreaming about. The dreams were vague and frightening, and you couldn't get out of them. The images became more eerie and bloody, the sounds grew louder and higher, and you felt trapped.

The only thing that calmed you down was the gentle melody you heard when things got particularly creepy. It was as if there was no escape. Like everything was fine.

The spirits of the Mountains are merciful to those who endure all trials with fortitude, and send their helpers. Sometimes, in your dreams, that creature appeared — with a gentle smile, which said that everything was fine.

And you believed it.

And then they fell back into oblivion.

◇◇◇

You woke up in a warm place.

Earthy air and little light... it was a hole. And you would have rushed up to find the owner and find out what you were doing here, but your body was too weak and your mind was too exhausted. You took a deep breath and looked up. Definitely a hole.

"Good morning", you heard a gentle whisper nearby. "Are you feeling better?"

And after a couple of seconds, next to you sat... a creature.

There was silence. He (up close you could see that it was a rather cute boy) looked you over tenaciously before he began his monologue again:

"You had serious injuries, so I brought you to my house", he raised his head, looking around as if for the first time, "do you like it? Not as cozy as my family's burrow, but after I became an adult, I tried to recreate the same atmosphere at home..."

The boy turned to you with a sunny smile.

"My name is Tanjirou. I am one of the raccoon dogs, Kie's son. You probably haven't heard of me… But I'm still happy to see new residents in the forest! It is sometimes quite lonely here, especially during heavy snows. It's a great stroke of luck that I managed to find you! You're so inconspicuous in the snow!"

Tanjirou paused, looking at you. You only nodded weakly, supporting the monologue.

"You're not from around here, are you? From somewhere in the mountains? I... ", the boy suddenly fell silent.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter where you're from, I'm glad to see you anyway! You can stay with me as long as you want, but I won't let you leave until your body is healed! It's important to take care of yourself, you know? And take care of each other too! We're all friends!"

He looked at you kindly again.

"You're lucky you were able to come down. When I saw you, your wounds were monstrous… You're very strong… Is that what I was talking about? Oh, yes! In the forest…"

And under his quiet, lulling voice, talking about all sorts of nonsense, you involuntarily fell asleep. Only at the edge of consciousness did you feel a light, soft kiss on the forehead, and a quiet "sweet dreams" before falling asleep.

◇◇◇

Tanjirou kept his promise and nursed you for a long time until you looked like a healthy snow leopard.

He constantly brought you food and water; changed your bandages and smeared your wounds with medicinal herbs; helped you warm up your muscles when you were finally able to get out of bed on your own. He massaged your shoulders and didn't ask what happened. During bouts of fever, he brought down the temperature, sometimes sat with you at night and gently held your hand, even if you convinced him that you could handle it yourself!

Tanjirou just shook his head, refusing, and did not move away.

◇◇◇

"The season of flowers is here", Tanjirou once told you, as you were doing muscle exercises, preparing to get completely out of his care. "The snows are gone. You?.."

You gave him a curious look.

Tanjirou hesitated uncomfortably and looked away.

"Recently… I mean, you don't look like that anymore...", Tanjirou took a deep breath, and continued quietly: "I mean… Are you planning on leaving?"

You didn't even have to turn your heads to know which face he asked it with.

Sometimes Tanjirou looked like a real puppy.

#🐹.🌌#kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #demon slayer scenarios #tanjirou kamado x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #🍮.forest au #gender neutral reader #🍑.tanjirou kamado #🍭.comfort #🍭.ust

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tetrakys · 4 years ago

Text

Eldarya A New Era - episodes 1 and 2

Let’s start with a brief recap and then my comments at the end.

Not much happens plot-wise, which makes sense since the first chapters are always about exposition and introducing the characters.

Episode 1:

We wake up in the new Crystal room and are swiftly taken by Huang Hua to the infirmary, we are perfectly healthy and have a chance to meet one of our old friends. Since we have been revered as a deity for the past 7 year sin the Crystal, Huang Hua has to make an announcement to the whole HQ saying that we are back into the living world, then we can finally explore HQ, meet old and new friends, get a new outfit and later attend a party in our honour. This is pretty much the plot of the first episode.

Episode 2:

In the second we have the chance of picking a Guard to belong to, Huang offered the Light one but Erika refuses because she doesn’t feel ready yet. We also get a new sword that Jamon has created for us and we can train a bit with him, afterwards we join a mission and go the forest. Once there we realise there is something wrong, as if some areas looked corrupted. We find a hurt companion and a very human shotgun bullet next to it and an evil-looking companion who attacks us causing us to end our very first mission at the infirmary, as usual. Once we are back on our feet we talk to Huang Hua about the bullet and realise that there is something she is hiding from us, then we help Ewe making a potion to save the companion. The companion got attached to us so we decide to adopt it.

Now a bit of info dump about the characters:

Huag Hua is the new head of the guard since Miiko went back to her family obligations. She is no longer the Phoenix apprentice although we don’t know why yet, she is in a romantic committed relationship with Ewelein who is still the head of the infirmary and member of the Light Guard.

Aleja and Sonse got married and left, Colaja joined them and she and Jamon broke up since he stayed. He was sad for a bit but then got over it. Kero left when most people left no one knows where he is. Ezarel left with Twilda and Mary Anne to try to make a new life for themselves. Memoria disappeared and no one knows what happened to it and all the dragon spirits. Karuto is still he chef and he became much nicer in time, also is food much better after fruits and vegetables in Eldarya became edible. There is speculation about his relationship with Feng Zifu who is still very polite but much older looking, however nothing confirmed yet.

Huang Chu is the new head of the Absynth Guard, she looks and acts kinda strict and matter-of-factly but she is also surprisingly open-minded, she encourages Erika to think with her own head and never blindly accept anyone’s order not even her own. She doesn’t get along with Mathieu at all.

Koori is a kitsune member of the Absynth Guard, she is funny, provocative and flirty. She wants to become friend with Erika and even flirts a bit. We see her both flirting with and mercilessly teasing Mathieu, not sure if she’s actually hitting on him or playing him, but this seems to be her normal behaviour.

Chrome is now the head of the Shadow Guard, he and Karenn are still together and while he is the official head it seems that she is his boss as usual so hierarchy is a bit blurry. The both became more mature in time, she is less into gossip and he went through a rough self-blaming patch, but he looks pretty happy right now, eating a lot and constantly making lame jokes, and she seems to have become a real fighter (everyone is recommending to never train with her).

Adalric is a sylph, Erika comments he kinda looks like a genie. He has constantly his head in the clouds forgetting all the most trivial tasks, he talks with the stars and the wind apparently.

Ophelia is this little girl we see for just a moment, we feel that she has the same aura as the Oracle, we hug her but she just smile and leaves. We are told she showed up after the White Sacrifice and no one actually knows anything about her, not even if she sleeps and eats and where.

Mathieu is a human who stumbled in a mushroom cricle about one year ago, he was sort of a recluse with no friends nor family on Earth, only thinking about fantasy and adventure, so he is very happy to be in Eldarya and couldn’t care less about going back to Earth. To his dismay the test assigned him to the Absynth Guard and he’s constantly hoping to be reassigned to the Obsidian instead. He’s the happy-go-lucky type but seems to also have a certain depth that we will hopefully find out.

Nevra is now a member of the Light Guard and Huang Hua’s right hand (he basically got Leiftan’s old job). He looks more severe and it seems that the events of S1 hardened him. He is back to his slutty ways but in episode he admits frivolous relationships don’t bring him happiness.

Leiftan got out of the Crystal with us but it took longer for him to wake up. He says that he needs to find himself and wants to put distance between him and everyone else, in fact he refuses to rejoin the Guard. When Erika asks him to train her aengel powers he refuses and says that he won’t ever touch a blade again and will never be responsible of further violence. Nevra can’t stand him at the moment because he thinks he is escaping his responsibilities.

COMMENTS:

Since people liked the expression I’m going to repeat it again, let’s address the elephant in the room first. (Guys “elephant in the room” is a figure of speech, it’s not a real elephant lol). No one mentioned who is the head of the Obsidian Guard, when Erika tries to ask one time the subject is swiftly changed and people seem to go out of their way to not go there. Everyone, including their grandparents, their cousins, neighbours and the cousins of their neighbours has figured out that the head of Obsidian is Lance, who is name dropped constantly. I know that there are some people who still like to live in denial, kudos to them. BV all but told me that Lance is coming in episode 3 before Christmas, the release pace is like MCL’s so I’m expecting episodes every second Wednesday of the month at this point, but we’ll see.

The situation with Nevra and Leiftan is heavy not gonna lie. I’ve only played the episode with Nevra so far and my heart broke in tiny pieces, but I want to savour the angst and enjoy the ride. I don’t blame either of the two, Leiftan went from traitor to saviour in a matter of what two days? He had not time to think about his choices and properly reflect on himself. I think it’s fair that the writing his giving him a bit of depth as a character now and not just using him for his abs and to kill and save people when needed. So yeah, I approve him going to therapy or whatever is going to do to achieve self-growth.

Nevra is a bit trickier, he spent one year moping in front of the Crystal every day, then moved on simply out of survival, and he’s well aware that the life he has now brings him no joy so one would think he would jump into Erika’s arms immediately? He is probably still very much hurting about everything that happened and he still has a fight or flight reaction about everything regarding it, his subconscious reaction when he saw Erika must have been DANGERDANGER RUN. Sleep around is easier because he doesn’t care and can’t be hurt again. While I can understand this, I also think it’s pretty cowardly and I would’ve liked to have given the reaction to get mad, to demand him to spend time with us, because yes he hurt but we spent 7 freaking years in a coma and no time has passed for us, the day before we were swearing love to each other and now this coldness. And yes I could’ve chosen angrier options with him instead of being understanding, but then my LoM would’ve dropped.

So what I think I’m trying to say is that I would like to have the option of getting mad without having devastating consequences on all the relationships. I know that the next episode is called Rage-something so I am hoping Erika will blow up. We are probably going to run into Lance, find out that he’s been forgiven and working with the Guard and go full violent mode. And hopefully she will get mad with the other guys as well. Homegirl needs to unleash since episode 13 AT LEAST.

Also, since Leiftan refused to train her, I’m expecting that Lance will at some point. Sweaty training sessions with a strict instructor who she kinda hates but also kinda thirst for... 😏😏😏 I have expectations now.

My general comment is that I like the writing so far, I see much improvement from the previous season although it’s too early to judge. I loved the shade thrown at Miiko and the Guard test, you can really tell the writer’s thoughts sometimes, he uses Mathieu to tell us what he thinks.

The one think I didn’t like is that, while I can understand most of the choices and the events of these two episodes, I don’t understand how the writing can justify Erika not looking for Ezarel if she were on her route. No time has passed for her, anyone would go looking for their lover in a situation like this, not just “oh well, he’s gone”. I know he can’t be brought back, but give me a good, logical reason in game. (Also, I hope to never see him and Valkyon as secondary non-datable characters because I would die inside).

About the other characters, I like Koori and Huang Chu, I don’t like Adalric, just personal taste, he seems to be the type of person who would be into yoga and spiritualism and it’s just not me at all lol.

#eldarya #eane #tetra eldarya rambling #a new era #eldarya recap

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paperanddice · 4 years ago

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Ghosts often gain powers related to their method of death, and each kind is slightly unique. The bridge haunt is a ghost that died falling from a bridge in some way, whether accidental or murder. Whatever the specific circumstance of the death was, the person is trapped with some kind of unfinished feelings and seeks to replicate its manner of death. Some ghosts believe that replicating the death perfectly will allow them to pass on, while others simply wish to inflict pain on the living out of rage at their own death. Whatever drives them, truly manifested ghosts are a dangerous threat, and even those who don't seem to understand their undead condition will lash out at the living without provocation.

The haunt cloaks itself and its bridge in illusions that shape the encounter to appear how the haunt likes. A rickety and broken bridge may look whole, while a perfectly sturdy one may appear to have holes in it to encourage those crossing to stick to the edge where the haunt can more easily push them off. As soon as a creature is vulnerable, the haunt attacks, lashing out to try and send a creature falling to its death.

Permanently destroying a ghost is always a challenge, as the emotions that hold it to the world aren't removed simply by dispersing the ectoplasm that makes up its form. Given a few days the ghost will inevitably return, forcing the next traveller to contend with it again. Instead, the source of the ghost's fury must be directly fixed, either by destroying the bridge or finding the wish that holds the ghost to the world and fulfilling it. Most bridge haunts wish for something important to be brought to where they sought to travel, usually reuniting the person's body or treasure to a living family member.

Originally from the 3.5 Monster Manual V. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as a spot on the Paper and Dice Discord server, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

A creature forcefully pushed off of a bridge by the haunt must attempt a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw to catch onto the edge. Otherwise, it is thrown down and lands somewhere below painfully. The terrain below the haunt's bridge is rarely safe, often being fast moving water or simply a very far fall, and any character thrown off has a good chance of being removed from the fight entirely without smart thinking or magical assistance.

Bridge Haunt Medium undead, any evil Armor Class 17 Hit Points 71 (13d8 + 13) Speed 30 ft., fly 30 ft. (hover) Str 4 (-3) Dex 16 (+3) Con 12 (+1) Int 10 (+0) Wis 13 (+1) Cha 19 (+4) Damage Immunities necrotic, poison Damage Resistances acid, cold, fire, lightning, thunder, bludgeoning, piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks Damage Vulnerabilities force, radiant Condition Immunities exhaustion, grappled, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, prone, restrained Senses darkvision 60 ft. passive Perception 11 Languages any languages it knew in life Challenge 5 (1800 XP) Bridge Dependent. The bridge haunt is mystically bound to the bridge it died at. As an action, the haunt can magically merge with the bridge it is bound to. While merged, the bridge haunt cannot be detected by nonmagical means and can't be harmed or targeted by any spell or effect. The haunt can see and hear normally while merged, but can't take any actions except to exit the bridge from any point as a bonus action. When the bridge haunt is destroyed, it restores itself and returns to the bridge it haunts in 1d4 days. If the bridge haunt is somehow forced more than 1,000 feet from its bridge, or if the bridge it is bound to is destroyed, it is permanently destroyed. The bridge haunt also has a personal quest that can allow it to pass on, usually taking a piece of its corporeal remains of its former body, or a possession important to it in life, and delivering that item to the place where the creature was going before it died. Unnatural Aura. The AC of the bridge haunt includes its Charisma bonus. Innate Spellcasting. The bridge haunt's spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 15). The bridge haunt can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components: 3/day each: suggestion (as a 4th level spell) 1/day each: mirage arcana Actions Multiattack. The bridge haunt makes two push attacks. After it makes both attacks, a creature hit by the bridge haunt must make a DC 14 Strength saving throw or be pushed 20 feet directly away from the bridge haunt. If a creature is hit by both attacks, it has disadvantage on the saving throw. Push. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 13 (3d6+3) force damage.

13th Age

The bridge haunt is a mixture of terrain element and creature, and is partly only significant if the area below the bridge is threatening enough to make falling a serious issue. No 10 foot drop into a slow stream, we're talking violent rushing river or deep ravine. A fall removes a character from the fight without a proper spell, magic item, or possibly an Icon benefit to save them. It isn't instant death however, simply draining some recoveries and separating the character from the group, and they might be found after assuming they succeed on their death saves.

Bridge Haunt Triple-strength 4th level spoiler [undead] Initiative: +9 Vulnerability: Holy Shove +8 vs. PD (2 attacks) - 18 damage Natural Roll Above the Target’s Strength: The target pops free of the bridge haunt and loses its next move action. Dual Hit: If both shove attacks hit during the same turn, the bridge haunt can make a violent hurtle attack during its next turn as a standard action. [Special Trigger] Violent Hurtle +10 vs. PD (up to 2 engaged enemies) - 25 damage and the target pops free of the bridge haunt and loses its next move action Natural Roll Above the Target’s Strength: The target is thrown over the edge of the bridge, and is helpless as it clings to the side. The target or another nearby character can attempt a DC 20 skill check to end the effect, but each failed check deals 2d6 damage to the helpless target. A character that can fly or has any special climbing abilities automatically succeeds on this check. If the helpless creature is reduced to 0 hp, it falls and loses 2 recoveries as it strikes the ground below, likely getting entirely removed from the fight and having to rely on making its death saves without help. C: Come to Me +8 vs. MD (1d3 nearby or far away enemies) - The target is hampered (save ends), and must attempt to engage the bridge haunt on its next turn Limited Use: 2/battle, as a quick action (once per round). Bridge Bound: The bridge haunt is bound to a specific bridge, and cannot leave it. When the bridge haunt drops to 0 hit points, it disappears but does not die. It reforms on its bridge after a number of days equal to its level. If the bridge is destroyed, the bridge haunt is also destroyed. The bridge haunt may also be destroyed by performing a personal quest for it, usually requiring finding a piece of the creature’s corpse or an important item to it and bringing it to the spot the creature was going before it met its death. Flight. Ghostly: The bridge haunt has resist damage 14+ to all damage except force damage. Living Visage: The bridge haunt cloaks itself and its bridge with illusions to trick creatures into approaching it. The bridge haunt looks like a living creature, and the bridge takes on whatever appearance the haunt wishes it to. A creature must make a DC 25 skill check to see through this illusion. This effect vanishes as soon as the bridge haunt starts flying or attacking. Meld With Bridge: The bridge haunt can merge with its bridge as an action, removing itself from the battlefield until it chooses to spend a move action to exit from any spot along the bridge. AC 18 PD 14 MD 18 HP 120

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #13th Age #homebrew #my homebrew #monster #undead #long post

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ri-ahhh · 5 years ago

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desert secrets

MJ meets a helpful stranger in the desert that turns out to be more than she hoped for.

7k holy shit lol

warnings: some pretty unrealistic fluff that might get your hopes up that you’ll have a meet-cute with Grayson

***

Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Shit on a fucking stick. You actual fucking idiot, MJ.

A stream of thoughts along these general lines becomes her stream of conscience as MJ Macias plops down on a large rock, throwing her head back to the sky to bask in the sun and her own general incompetency. Maybe the heat of the desert mountain sun beating on her face will cause her to shrivel up and disintegrate to become lizard food or something — the thought isn’t altogether unwelcome.

Her trip to the middle of nowhere was meant to clear her mind both through exercise in the form of a nice, long hike, as well as simply by being alone amongst nature, under an endless expanse of clouds and stars. The week had been pure hell for her: she had been let go from her dream job at her marketing firm in the latest round of budget-related layoffs; received a ticket from a dickhead cop for going 34 in a 30; and discovered last night that the hot water heater in her apartment had broken. To top it all off, her ex had been harassing her relentlessly over texts and calls, wanting to meet up and ‘talk about things’ since she had dumped him two months ago.

So as she cried hot tears in a frigid shower that morning, thoroughly wallowing in self-pity, an idea popped into her head that was so spontaneous and ridiculous she didn't even try to talk herself out of it: go on a solo camping trip.

MJ really has no idea why this of all the therapeutic outlets available to her was something her brain decided was the right one, since a camper she is not. Sure, she loves being outside in the sun for a good hike, or a swim in the ocean once in a while — nature isn’t the problem. It’s the whole navigating-desert-terrain-alone-and-sleeping-on-the-ground thing that isn’t usually at the top of her list of fun weekend activities. The tent and sleeping bag that she had been forced to purchase for the ridiculous bachelorette party of one of her very outdoorsy friends had called her name as she paced manically around her apartment that morning, though.

Did she have every intent to return them after their one-time use? Absolutely. Did they both end up getting thrown to the back of her storage closet and thus forgotten about until then? Also, yes.

Both her practically nonexistent camping experience and her general lack of enthusiasm for the activity as a whole should have been her first clues at how moronic she was for thinking this is a trip she should (or could) handle alone. But, now determined to have the ultimate self-care weekend, she had: packed a backpack as an overnight bag; tossed it with her shitty little tent and a cooler full of snacks and water in the back of her car; texted her best friend Lainey to sound the alarm if she wasn’t home in 36 hours; and driven away to the first camping ground Google showed her that was at least 100 miles outside of LA. It seemed adventurous and spontaneous an indie movie-esque at the time.

But now, as she sits on this rock, feet and back aching, utterly fucking lost, MJ is starting to feel more like she’s on a self-inflicted episode of Punk’d. Being very directionally challenged, she had been using the maps feature on her phone to find her way back to her campsite after going on a winding, hilly hike, until her phone had suddenly died. The trails have no legible signs so between her use of the GPS, the borderline stalker-ish calls from her ex, and the heat of the sun, she’s left without her lifeline much sooner than she could have anticipated.

She thinks of her backpack and the battery-powered charger in her tent. In a moment of pure rage with herself for being such a lost, ill-prepared dumbass, she wants nothing more than to run back up the mountain and punt the now useless little piece of metal and plastic into the abyss. Her inner drama queen thinks maybe the best thing that could happen is that it will fall on a mountain lion, which will devour her out of anger before she shrivels up into lizard food, and put her out of her misery early.

MJ rolls her eyes at how ridiculous she’s being, and forces herself to take a deep breath and think. Her inner antics really do bring up an actually pressing issue. There are plenty of animals out here that don’t need any iPhone provocation to attack, and she’s only armed with a half-empty HydroFlask and a sparkly purple tube of pepper spray. Not to mention, judging from the incurring pinkness of the sky, the sun is going to set soon, and with that means it’ll be getting cold as well. She looks down at her thin Lulu Lemon tank top and shorts.

Fuuuck.

Knowing she has to make a decision, MJ doesn’t second guess herself when her feet heave her body off of her rock and set off further down the trail. Her only hopes at this point are to either miraculously stumble upon her camp before dark, or pray that she runs into fellow campers that might have a portable charger and that also aren’t serial killers. The only people she had passed on her hike had been a middle-aged couple and a woman maybe a little older than herself with a dog, but she couldn't have any idea if they were staying on the campgrounds or merely taking a day trip. Like she should have done.

MJ walks down the trail a solid 20 minutes, and wonders where the hell she had actually gone on her hike to be so far out from her own campsite. Inexperience with the outdoors had made her assume all the trails met up in a circle, but clearly that isn’t the case here. She’s already out of the hiking trail and in one of the areas designated for camping, but there are a couple of those around the park and she has no clue which one she had chosen.

Trying and failing to keep the creeping worry out of her spine as a few clouds turn orange and the noises of the nocturnal wildlife start up, she picks up her pace.

She’s about to resign herself to huddling in an unoccupied camping spot for the night when she suddenly sees flumes of smoke about a football field away. The Hallelujah chorus fills her head, and she mumbles out a quick ‘thank you’ to whoever is listening as she practically speed-walks to her impending safety.

The smell of the crackling wood draws her nearer and nearer. When she finally rounds the corner, she’s surprised and disappointed to see that while there is indeed a small fire burning, as well as a deconstructed tent piled on the ground, the occupant of the campsite is nowhere to be found. MJ hesitates and looks around for any sign of them, not foreseeing this issue. Should she wait around like a creep? Keep walking and hope to run into them?

“Can I help you?”

MJ startles out of her skin and lets out an embarrassing little squeak. She whips around and is thoroughly unprepared to see what just might be the hottest guy she’s ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes on in real life. Judging from her own height, he’s maybe six foot or a tad over; his thick arms are laden with a bulky backpack and a sleeping bag, and his dark hazel eyes observe her warily behind a flop of dark wavy hair.

“Uh,” she begins stupidly, slightly stunned by both his sudden appearance and his masculine beauty. “Yeah, um, I’m so sorry to intrude on your space but, I, you know, got a little confused on the trails and, uh…”

He raises a naturally arched eyebrow expectantly as she pauses and stumbles over her words. MJ looks at him, then releases a huge breath she hadn't even realized had been held in her chest until this moment, officially giving up on not sounding like a complete and total idiot.

“I’m fucking lost. I have a terrible sense of direction and was using a map online of the trails to find the pin I dropped on my campsite, but my phone died. Is there any chance you have a portable charger I can use for, like, twenty minutes?”

The guy chuckles, and despite her pure mortification at the situation, MJ cracks a smile too, glad to see he isn’t pissed at her for lurking around his campsite like the actual weirdo she is. Unfortunately for her, though, his crooked grin somehow makes him even more attractive, which doesn’t bode well for her already inevitable awkwardness.

“Uh, yeah, I have my Mophie in here somewhere,” he says, indicating the backpack in his arms. He nods his head in the direction of his campsite where there is a large stone clearly put there by park officials as a makeshift bench. “Come on over and I’ll find it.”

“Thank you,” MJ sighs in relief. She follows him through the gap in the log threshold, and when he drops the items he’s carrying on the ground, she gapes; holy shit, the man is built. She could tell he had pythons for arms, but the stuffed backpack and sleeping bag had hidden the way his plain white t-shirt stretches taut over every solid, muscled crevice of his torso.

She shakes her head and hopes he can’t sense her obvious stare that has since traveled from the breadth of his shoulders, down his tapered waist, settled on his ass, and finished on the multitude of tattoos decorating his legs as he walks in front of her. MJ finds every one of these aspects of him immensely appealing; she’s never felt so viscerally attracted to a complete stranger in her entire life.

MJ settles on the rock and, sensing some of the aforementioned awkwardness about to settle in the air, searches her brain for a way to alleviate it. She knows she’ll only be here a short amount of time, but she feels compelled to get to know him even just a little bit. And to not make a complete fool of herself, if possible.

“What’s your name?” she asks. That’s a safe place to start. She hugs her knees to her chest as she watches him arrange the stuff he had just dropped into a neater pile.

“Grayson,” he replies. Grayson crouches down to dig through his backpack and flashes her a friendly, blinding smile over his shoulder. “Yours?”

As if she couldn’t embarrass herself any more, she feels a flush rise to her cheeks. For fucks sake, she isn’t 16 talking to her high school crush — she’s a grown woman who has been with plenty of guys and knows how to have a simple conversation with one, no matter how hot they are.

“MJ,” she finally manages to get out.

“MJ,” he repeats, testing it on his tongue, nodding approvingly. “That’s cool. I don't think I’ve ever met a girl with that kind of name. What does it stand for?”

He stands and turns to face her. He extends the little black charger to her and MJ looks up at him through her lashes as he towers over her, biting her lip. Flirting isn’t her strong suit whatsoever, but she can’t help trying; it’s not like she’s going to see him again by the time the sun sets.

“It’s a secret,” she answers after a brief moment, taking the Mophie from Grayson and accidentally-on-purpose brushing the tips of her fingers against the back of his. “Thanks.”

Grayson raises his eyebrows, but a humored grin graces his full lips. “Okay,” he says, surprising her by taking a seat next to her as she plugs in her phone. “But who better to spill your secrets to than a total stranger, you know?”

MJ can’t help the giggle that escapes her throat, humored more by the fact that he seems to be having the same idea of fuck it, we won’t ever see each other again, as her, than his actual question. His nearness should make her uncomfortable, but it just…doesn’t; he’s close enough for her to smell his scent emanating from his warm body. Clean, like laundry and soap, but also hints of an earthy, masculine cologne and an admittedly enticing musk from being in the sun. She wants to lean in and inhale him.

God, she hopes she isn’t coming off as insane as she feels inside. What is wrong with her? He’s just a guy. A guy whose close proximity as a stranger should be making her feel intimidated rather than buzzing with electricity.

“You’re very right,” she says, leaning back on her hands to appear more relaxed. “If I die out here in the wilderness, killed by my own stupidity, I wouldn't want the last person to see me alive not know my real name.”

Grayson throws his head back and laughs, and it draws one from herself as well. She likes his laugh because despite the deep timbre of his voice, the sound is carefree and boyish.

“It’s Makenna Jean,” she finally admits once they both quiet down. “I’m named after my grandmothers, but my mom didn't like your typical shortenings people might automatically give to Makenna — you know, Mack, Ken, Kenna, all those. So she just started calling me MJ to avoid it all, and…that’s me, MJ.”

He nods in understanding. “Gotcha.”

They continue effortless conversation for a while, words and laughter flowing freely from their lips with an ease that MJ hasn’t experienced in years. In the first lull, though, MJ fills it with a sigh and extends her long legs to stretch them as they tire from being folded so closely to her body, flexing and pointing her toes. She knows her shorts are a little too short, her tank top a little low cut, even with a sports bra on. It’s another one of those accidentally-on-purpose moves that starts as inadvertent in the way it exposes and elongates her body, but ends in her relishing the way his eyes quickly dart across her form. She’s reticent to admit that she isn’t mad about it. Not even a little.

She ducks her head and bites her lip to hide a triumphant smirk as Grayson clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “So, are you out here by yourself?”

For the first time since she met him, a little swoop of nerves unrelated to her attraction to him passes through the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s always had a spot-on instinct for determining someone’s ‘vibes’, and Grayson has only given her good ones since the minute she saw him. Maybe she’s fallen victim to the Ted Bundy effect, though…

He seems to pick up on her hesitation, and Grayson slaps his palm to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, sorry, that was so creepy. I didn't mean it like that, I was just, uh, making conversation.” He opens his eyes and rubs his forehead and, to her shock, is he blushing now? “I promise I’m not a murderer.”

She might have still been weirded out by a guy even putting the word out there in this situation, but her gut is telling her that Grayson is harmless, and she prides herself on being a pretty good judge of character.

“It’s okay,” she says, giving him a serious look. “I promise I’m not either. But you should know that I’m packing heat with a fully loaded can of mace and my best white belt skills from the karate classes my mom made me take in 4th grade.”

Grayson gives her a disbelieving look. “Fourth grade karate, huh?”

“Yep. For real, I’ll karate chop your arm off if you try anything sketch.”

“Try,” he challenges with a beautiful, dangerous smile, leaning in ever so slightly and looking her dead in the eye. It takes her breath away a little bit. “I dare you.”

MJ scoffs, still keeping up this facade that she isn’t fighting every primal urge to mount him, especially with the unmistakeable tinge of flirtation in his last words.

“Fine,” she accepts. Grayson grins wider and leans back, offering her his right arm. “Get ready.”

“Oh, I am.”

She lines her hand up with the dip in his muscles between his shoulder and the top of his bicep, rears it back, and —

“Ow!”

The side of her hand simply bounces off of the solid mass of his bulging arm. Grayson does that head-back belly laugh again and she pretends to pout as she rubs her sore hand. “That hurt way more than it should have!” she exclaims. “What are you, Superman?”

Grayson, still laughing, grabs her hand in his and strokes it rather tenderly considering the sheer size of his palm compared to hers. And it’s so cliche, but MJ swears she feels tingles where their skin connects.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, biting his lip in an attempt to contain himself. “It’s just, in the least misogynistic way possible, that was high-key cute.”

“Hmph.” MJ scrunches her nose at him as her heart drops to her stomach in the best, scariest way.

Uh oh. He's a stranger, MJ; you’ve known him for half an hour, MJ; you’re in the middle of nowhere, MJ — you can’t catch feelings for a stranger you’ve know for half an hour in the middle of nowhere, MJ…

She clears her throat and gives his hand a slight squeeze before extracting it from his grip, hoping that conveys that she doesn’t disapprove of his touch. But the sun is well on it’s way to setting, and she does need to check her phone battery. It’s at 28%, not as much as she hoped for but probably enough to do the trick.

Shit. MJ really, really doesn’t want to leave him, but she can’t exactly invite herself to stay longer. She had already kept him from building his tent, and his fire is starting to die as well. She turns back to face him only to find his eyes trained on her, brow slightly scrunched. Her belly swoops again.

“I should, ah, probably get going,” MJ admits quietly, fidgeting with her fingers. A shiver runs down her spine and goosebumps raise themselves up the skin of her arms, too, as the setting sun steadily lowers the temperature around them. She crosses her arms across her chest, partly for warmth and partly to hide her stiffened nipples that peak through her thin sports bra and tank. “Or I really will kill myself out here in the dark by walking off a cliff or something.”

Grayson smiles woefully and lets out a little huff, ducking his gaze down for a moment and picking at a thread on his shorts. “Yeah, I understand.”

Is it her imagination or does he sound…disappointed?

When he looks back up at her, the sudden intensity of his gaze makes her swallow thickly. She wants so badly to ask for his number, his Instagram, his last name, but it all seems too weird given the circumstances and the amount of time (or lack thereof) they’ve spent together. Besides, she thinks, she’s still dealing with a psycho ex amongst the rest of her life falling apart, and doesn’t need any more boy problems in her already crazy-stressful life.

MJ stands and dusts off the back of her shorts. “Thank you, Grayson, seriously. You really did save my ass,” she says with a sad smile.

“Of course,” he replies, standing with her.

She unplugs her phone and pulls up both maps before setting off down the trail with one last wave at the gorgeous, sweet man she’s so reluctantly leaving behind.

“MJ, wait!”

She stops in her tracks, black Nikes skidding in the loose, sandy dirt. Turning around in time to see Grayson dig his hands in the backpack to fish out a sweatshirt and flashlight, her heart lifts when he starts jogging toward her. Despite her elation, however, she looks up at him confusedly.

“I’ve actually been to this place a few times, so I’m pretty familiar with the trails and campgrounds. I would feel a lot better if I walked you to your tent. Not that you need a man to help you anywhere or…whatever, but yeah, only if you want —”

“Grayson,” she interrupts, touching a slim hand to his forearm. She smiles, endeared at how flustered he’s getting. He runs a hand through his hair again. Is this him wanting to spend more time with her, or him simply being a gentleman? “I really do appreciate it, but I’ve already kept you from setting up your own camp. I couldn't ask you to walk me all the way to BFE and risk you coming back alone in the dark.”

Grayson shakes his head. “I swear, it’s fine. I’ve got a flashlight.” He clicks it on and shines it under his chin, illuminating his head in typical campfire story-time style, and makes a face at her. MJ giggles. “And you can’t be too far from here; there are only two main campgrounds and they’re less than a mile apart from each other, so I should make it back before dark one way or the other.”

A shiver from the cold overtakes her body suddenly. “Oh, here,” he adds, extending the purple hoodie to her. She starts to protest, but he shakes his head and holds it at her more insistently. “I know you’re cold.”

MJ flushes, but takes the soft garment from him gratefully. “I never said I was cold,” she remarks as she shoves her arms in the sleeves and slips it over her head. It practically swallows her, but it smells just like the laundry/cologne scent she had picked up earlier, only more concentrated and delicious.

Grayson eyes her up and down slowly, grinning. “I’m observant,” he says teasingly.

MJ raises her brows at him amusedly. Again, she should be creeped out, but there’s something about him that sends all potential red flags out the window.

“And I might not be done sharing secrets with you,” he adds quietly, smiling the softest, sexiest smile she’s ever seen and utilizing the ultimate puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

Well, twist my arm, MJ thinks sarcastically. “Okay,” she says without hesitation now, her insides jittering with a strange mixture of happiness and nerves. He beams at her and jerks his head in indication for them to continue down the trail.

“So, you never said what you’re doing out here by yourself,” Grayson prompts, nudging her with his elbow.

MJ shakes her head and smiles up at him. “Nuh-uh. Not only is that a sob story no one wants to hear, it’s definitely your turn to share. So I could ask you what you’re doing out here by yourself?”

Grayson shrugs as if to say ‘fair enough.’ “I’m not, actually. I’m with my brother and his girlfriend because she wanted to camp, but my brother doesn’t know shit about it. I only came under the agreement that there was going to be no funny business while I was around, only to come back from getting firewood to find them going at it, so I chose to remove myself from the situation. They’re still at our original campsite further down the trail. I needed to make sure I was far enough away to not hear anything.”

MJ sucks in a sympathetic breath through her teeth. “Ooh, yeah, there’s nothing worse than being the third wheel, especially when you have nowhere to escape.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, turning to her with his hands raised. “Thank you! Ethan told me I was being dramatic, but it definitely sucks. He’s been with her long enough now, I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to be the lonesome outsider.”

This is the perfect segue for the question, but it gets stuck in her throat. Come on, MJ, grown woman, remember? She’s sure she already knows the answer based on what he had just said, but it never hurts to check.

“So…you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.” She glances up at him to find him staring straight ahead with that lopsided, boyish grin. He looks back down at her and reciprocates the question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.” MJ is mortified to hear it come out as a whisper. She clears her throat and diverts her gaze to the sunset. She had literally, quite literally, just met this man — he should not have this kind of effect on her.

Just then, her phone buzzes, and she’s infuriated to see the deleted number of her ex pop up on the screen. She groans in frustration. “But it’s not for my idiot ex’s lack of trying to get back together,” she complains, wiggling the phone and sending it straight to voicemail.

“I’m sorry,” Grayson says, shaking his head understandingly. “I’ve definitely been there. How long have you been broken up?”

MJ swipes the voicemail notification away and rolls her eyes. “Over two months. We weren't super serious and it wasn't a crazy bad breakup or anything, we were just in different places, and I’m not one to be in a relationship just for the sake of it. Especially if I’m not feeling any aspect of it. I didn't hear a word from him the first month or so, but he’s acting like we were soulmates who had some tragic ending, calling and texting me nonstop the last couple of weeks.”

Grayson shrugs. “Sounds like he’s just realizing what he missed out on,” he says, grinning. MJ’s breath catches in her throat and she rolls her eyes again embarrassedly with a smile, flushing pink yet again. “Why don’t you block him?”

She sighs. “I probably will. I don't like to burn bridges like that unless someone really does me wrong, but it’s getting ridiculous at this point.”

Grayson nods. “I’m not just saying this, but I feel the exact same way. And about what you said with being in a relationship just to be in one. Like…” he ruffles the back of his hair, something she now detects as a tell for when he's uncomfortable. “Ok, like, this sounds so ugly and conceited, but if I really wanted to be with someone, I could. Ethan and I do social media for a living and we have a decent following, so it’s not a lack of girls, but that’s not me. Maybe when I was a little younger, but…yeah, not now.”

Wow. What does that mean, a decent following? Her job requires her to know the ins and outs of the social media side of marketing, but she isn’t super invested in it for herself entertainment-wise. Mainly, she’s active on Snapchat with her friends and just occasionally uses Insta, so with the knowledge of the spectrum of social media followings, that could really be any number in her book. “So you’re, like, an Instagram model or something?”

He chuckles. “No, no. We make YouTube videos mostly. We’re identical twins so a lot of them are stupid things based on that — challenges and skits and stuff. It’s pretty chill. We’re starting to dabble in documentary-style projects, too.”

MJ gawks at him playfully, though she is actually surprised by his admission. “There are two of you?!” she gasps.

Grayson gapes back at her jokingly. “Technically, yes. He’s my absolute best friend in the entire world and, like I said, we’re identical, but half the time we really couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. I’ll show you our channel later, if you want, and you’ll see.”

“Hmm,” MJ hums, catching her lip with her teeth briefly. “Well I’m sure Ethan is great, but I’m glad I met you, then.”

He bumps her with his hip. “Are you saying you like me?”

MJ rolls her eyes good-naturedly at the teasing lilt to his voice and hopes that the light is low enough that he can’t see the seemingly permanent tint to her cheeks. “Since we’re sharing secrets…maybe. Yes.”

“I like you, too,” he replies, just as quietly. She picks up a barely-detectable lisp on the ’t’ and the East Coast lilt on the ‘oo.’ It’s adorable.

Her heart flutters.

They walk steadily a few more feet in silence, when suddenly she feels his hand brush hers gently. She assumes it was accidental until it happens again, only this time there’s more assertiveness in the movement, clearly indicating what he’s trying to do. Her heart jumps in her throat as she gladly lets his palm dwarf her own as he takes her hand in his. They happen to both glance at each other, only to duck their heads simultaneously, each attempting to hide giddy smiles.

“Ah, so, secrets,” MJ says to break the silence that’s thick with the best kind of tension. “How old are you?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Old enough…almost,” he answers cryptically, side-eyeing her.

His reply actually makes MJ stop in her tracks, and she’s jerked a bit by their joined hands as he continues moving. “What?” she asks incredulously.

Grayson laughs heartily and squeezes her palm, melting her insides a bit. He’s clearly pleased with himself at catching her so off-guard. “I’m kidding. I mean, I am legal, but people tend to think I’m older than I am.” He observes her standing there, waiting for his answer, and finally relents. “I’m 20.”

MJ shakes her head, stunned. “Shut the fuck up!” she exclaims. “Twenty?! Dude, yeah, no kidding people think you’re older. I definitely did.”

He tugs on her hand to keep her walking, and MJ obeys dutifully, still amazed at yet another shocking disclosure. “Is that an issue?”

She shrugs; she feels like it should be, but he doesn’t look or act 20 at all. But also…an issue for what? They literally just met. And she should only be thinking of being friends; she can be friends with a 20 year-old.

That thought doesn’t stop her from answering, though, because time factor aside, something is happening between them. Something more than friends, if she’s letting herself be honest. “I guess it’s only an issue if it affects maturity, but that doesn't seem to be a problem here that I can tell.”

Grayson squeezes her hand again, and a shot of sparks zings up her arm this time. “Good. Now, are you gonna make me ask, or are you gonna tell me how old you are?”

MJ groans. Twenty. She’s basically a dinosaur compared to that. “God, I don’t even want to say now. I’m 24,” she admits.

“What’s wrong with that?” Grayson asks with a chuckle.

“Because…” How do you explain to a young, hot 20 year-old man that every year that you creep closer to 25 only means one year closer to the downhill to 30? “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel old. And stuck. Especially lately. And you seem like this super young, super successful guy. It’s a little intimidating.”

Grayson is quiet for a moment. “If there’s anything I know, it’s not to judge your path based on other’s. If you’re feeling stuck, something will happen that gets you unstuck. Age has nothing to do with that.”

His answer catches MJ by surprise in its sincerity and maturity and thoughtfulness. Before she can form an answer, they pass what must be his brother’s tent. She has to hush her fit of laughter into her free hand when Grayson makes a disgusted little noise and flips off the dark red canvas that is, indeed, rustling suspiciously.

From there on they share anything and everything about each other, with each other. Against her word from earlier, she tells him about losing her job and her other woes from the week; he briefly opens up that he had lost his dad a little over a year ago and is still coping with it. This shocks her a bit, but his openness leads her to sympathize with him by sharing how her mom had passed away in a car accident when she was 15. By the time they reach the next campground, their fingers are completely intertwined and she’s leaning her head on his shoulder, his smell enveloping her completely from both his shirt sleeve and the collar of the hoodie. MJ has truly never felt more connected to a man on this level, and it’s both exciting and terrifying.

They aren’t even to her tent yet and she already doesn’t want him to go.

“Should be just around this corner,” Grayson says, squinting at her phone before concentrating on the trail again.

Sure enough, the next turn reveals her campsite, complete with the tent she had miraculously managed to construct herself and her cooler propped next to the same rock-bench that they had sat on at Grayson’s camp.

Her free hand clenches around his elbow. “Yep, here it is,” she says.

They stop and stand to face one another. “Thanks again, Grayson,” she tells him sincerely. “I didn't really know what the hell I was doing coming out here. In more ways than one, obviously.” This earns her a smile and — God, as if her heart could feel any more sappy in that moment — he brings their clasped hands to his lips to kiss the back of her palm. “But in the hour that I’ve known you I think you’ve helped me take my mind off things more than anyone else back home could have. So…thank you.”

“Of course, MJ,” he says quietly. “I could say the same. I rarely talk about my dad with anyone besides Ethan, let alone someone I just met.” Her heart warms at his confession, and a heated moment of quiet and intense eye contact passes between them before he breaks it. “Come on, I’ll help you start a fire.”

She nods, and they release their grasps on one another to gather sticks and dry brush at his suggestion.

“You know,” he says as he leans over the fire pit that’s now filled with their findings with her lighter, breaking the short silence, “I was going to spend the night alone since E was clearly pretty busy. I don't think he would miss me if I stayed for a bit. To keep telling secrets. If you want, that is.”

MJ swallows. What the hell is this night? She’s pretty sure sad, lost girls meeting and mutually falling for beautiful, polite, genuinely funny boys in the desert is something that only happens in the likes of cheesy Meg Cabot novels. Yet, here she is, living out her nerdy 16 year-old fantasies in real life somehow.

“Yes. I want you,” she murmurs finally, and though she doesn’t mean for it to come out as a bit of an entendre, she doesn’t regret her wording; even in the low light of the late sunset, she can see his eyes darken. “Won’t he notice eventually, though, if you stay gone for very long? And it’s getting dark…”

“If I can borrow your phone, I can text him,” he explains. “I don't have any service but you do somehow. I guarantee he’ll use the wifi in our car to check his phone before he goes to bed, so he’ll get it eventually.”

She nods and unlocks her phone for him. “How do you have service out here, actually?” he asks as he types out a new message.

“My brother,” she answers, entranced by the way his thick fingers fly across the keyboard of her phone. “Being a firefighter, he gets to be on this plan for first responders where he gets first access to a bigger network in case he’s in the middle of nowhere on a call or in a crowd during an emergency or something. I was able to sign on with his account and get all the benefits of it.”

Grayson looks up at her, surprised, and smirks when he hands her phone back to her. “Wow, a firefighter? So he could probably kick my ass if he wanted, huh?”

MJ laughs. “Normally I would say yes, but somehow I think you've got a solid 20 pounds of muscle on him, even though he's a little taller than you,” she admits.

She finally can’t resist anymore and runs her right hand over a bicep that is truly bulging right beneath the edge of his shirt sleeve, and allows herself to take in unabashedly the way the fabric stretches across his wide shoulders, his defined pecs…fuck, he’s sexy.

He swallows hard and she looks up at him. For the second time that night, the intensity of his gaze stuns her into silence and stillness.

When he ducks his head to meet her lips with his, however, her insides are screaming and the hand not clutching his arm travels to grip the front of his shirt, then the short hairs at the back of his neck.

More cliches, but it’s a perfect first kiss — soft but intense, not too much tongue but just enough as it deepens. MJ sighs into his mouth, deciding she would be perfectly content to do this with him forever despite the fire now lit within her at his touch that has her body begging for more.

It could have been a few seconds or a few hours that they stand there entwined with one another, but eventually they part, eyes closed and breaths panting heavily in the minimal space between them. The longer she isn’t distracted by his lips, the longer she stands there trying not to overthink things.

But the beauty of what this trip has been — what Grayson has been — for her is that it was the opposite of overthinking; it was instinctual, impulsive, and honest. In short, her motto had been ‘fuck it.’

Her green eyes open and lift to his hazel ones. “Grayson,” she whispers, “we’re telling secrets tonight, right?”

“Right,” he replies just as breathlessly.

She swallows past a small lump as an inexplicable rush of emotion hits her.

Fuck it.

MJ’s hands cup his angular jaw and she forces herself to keep eye contact with him. She takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m not into drama and feelings and fairytale shit. But I like you. I really like you, way more than I should considering we’re basically strangers, which fucking scares me. And even though I barely know you, I trust you for some reason. I just…need you to tell me if you feel kind of the same, or if this is starting to feel like too much now that I’m putting my thoughts out there. Because my gut is telling me this is mutual, but we can both walk away now and write it off as a crazy, whirlwind thing in the desert. I go in my tent, you go in yours, and we never see each other again.”

Her words come out in a rush, her last sentence almost painfully so. She also suddenly considers the idea that maybe he’s only using her as a fun story to tell his friends about, the pretty girl he met in the desert, wooed by his charm and good looks into her tent, only to be ghosted by him the next day.

Maybe the uncertainty in her life is leading her to be too impulsive with her wants and desires right now.

Maybe she’s starting to overthink things.

Grayson catches his lower lip with his teeth and mimics the position of her hands with his own. His thumbs brush the ridges of her mandible and his long fingers overlap at the back of her neck, scratching lightly. Despite herself, she could have purred at the sensation, almost does when it’s combined with that of his lips brushing hers tenderly.

“MJ,” he says lowly, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not a fuckboy, I promise; like I said earlier, if all I wanted was a warm body beside me, I could have that in a second. What’s so hard for me is to find someone who's not after clout or money or anything that comes along with being in the social media space. Almost every girl I’ve talked to in the last couple of years has been attracted to one of those aspects of my life, not me. Once I find that out, no matter what they look like, I’m never interested in being in the same room as them, let alone in a relationship with them. I can tell you don't give a shit about any of that, and I love it. I love how funny, genuine, and kind you are. I love how naturally, absolutely gorgeous you are. That’s what I look for, that’s all I go for, and you’re all of it.”

Holy fuck, how is this guy real? It’s like he could read her mind. Her thumb tugs on his lower lip and he takes that as his cue to kiss her thoroughly again.

“Promise me now, then,” she huffs when they break apart, “no matter what happens tonight, we try to stay friends, at least, tomorrow.”

“Deal,” he agrees with a grin.

MJ bites her lip and smirks up at him. “How about we, uh, keep sharing secrets in my tent?”

Grayson raises his brow, his smile widening. “It is getting a little chilly out here.”

#this might have originally been written w smut #but i wasn't sure if i wanted it to be official #should i post it as like a continuation?#hmm #dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan oc #grayson mj

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tolkienhorror · 4 years ago

Text

My pain, your thrill, chapter 2

Warnings: Abuse, torture, cbt, watersports.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given by @outofangband on my main blog. Prompt: Morgoth/Sauron, Omorashi

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"Where do you think you're going, Lieutenant?"

Mairon cursed inwardly but he knew better than to turn his back on his Lord when he was regarded with that certain icy hiss in Melkor's voice, especially in front of a whole group of orc and Balrog commanders. Oh, so one of those days it was. "I have a pressing matter in my office to tend to, milord. It will be but a minute." He tried, though he knew how small chances were of convincing his master once Melkor had got it in his head that this was another good moment to remind Mairon of his place.

Of the annoying fact that years after what had probably the biggest failure in Mairon’s career, he still deserved retaliation at every chance, even and especially in the presence of others. Nothing better to keep possibly rebellious minions in check than demonstrating every now and then that not even the highest people in Melkor's ranks were safe from his power. And that very decision being made in this fortress had to be sanctioned from the highest place – not least because last time Melkor had given Mairon free reign, they'd lost their most valuable prisoner. Melkor could hold grudges for an incredibly long time. "If there's any dealings more pressing than debating strategies to increase our hold on these lands, Lieutenant, maybe you would be better advised servicing the enemy." The temperature in the room seemed to drop with every of Melkor's venomous words until Mairon was shivering under the flimsy fabric of the ruby robe matching his hair that he'd chosen for this gathering in the weak hope of appealing to his master's occasional appreciation for beauty in his bedroom.

Another failure, obviously.

While the orcs, too, shivered and ducked their heads at the aggression suddenly roaring through the hall, more than one of the greyish, scarred faces showed a scornful grin.

A weak flame of delight flickered in the red sockets that were Gothmog's eyes from the other side of the room. From the way, the tip of the Balrog's whip wrapped around a leg of the table, Mairon could tell, the bastard was fondling the handle of his preferred weapon, probably daydreaming about Melkor becoming angry enough with Mairon to order him to serve his most hated rival tonight once more.

Mairon had no interest in a repeat performance of that kind and bowed his head in apology, quickly taking his place behind Melkor's chair again, his face blank as he forced himself to listen to every detail for the upcoming attack wave that he'd long memorized anyway. This was not about his uninterrupted presence in a wholly expendable meeting, of course. It was another test of will, of physical endurance. If he didn't have to be so careful about his lover invading his mind to monitor his thoughts, Mairon would probably allow himself to silently admit that he was getting a little tired of these games. Even coming up with the most attractive and mighty new shapes when the last one got too ruined became tedious at some point, especially when your master had no second look to spare for it.

It wasn't just that Melkor refused to forgive him. He refused to touch him.

Well, that was if Mairon didn't count choking on his lover's cock every once in a while. It felt like at least two Ages since Marin had last been fucked; and since his lover forbade him from finding at least his own pleasure alone, the growing yearning was mixing with more frustration by the day.

Even more so since Melkor had found out that it was a lot more fun, torturing Mairon when he also prohibited him from using any of the powers his folk was gifted with, merely reducing his physical and mental resilience to the embarrassing fragility of an elf.

Mairon wasn't only mildly irritated and impatient any longer. He was miserable. What had Eru been thinking, bringing something so flawed and insufficient to life? When it wasn't some deep cut in this far-too thin skin from his master's whip that Mairon had to sing together every other week, he ended up mending bones or pushing some organ back where it belonged. It was time consuming, it was most uncomfortable and most of all it was humiliating.

Yet, apparently, his lover was of the opinion, none of that had been humiliating enough yet. Mairon should have been suspicious already when Melkor had insisted on sharing a couple of cups of wine too many before this meeting. And he still handed him a new one without even looking at him every now and then, though Melkor himself was doing the talking and Mairon certainly had no need for any more wetting of his throat. Debauchery usually was not for either of them.

It was only now, hours in, that Mairon started to feel, he needed a bathroom break rather sooner than later. And how very inconvenient it was when you were not allowed to just cleanse your body out with a few hummed tones from your lips. It went from inconvenient to distracting after the next cup because Melkor still made no move to end this stupid discussion about arms deployment anytime soon. By now, Mairon's robe was starting to stretch uncomfortably around his midsection, and the muscles in his lower body cramped from the growing need to relieve himself. Only now, it started to dawn on him why his Lord hard insisted on him attending this gathering from this very particular spot, with no empty chair in sight. Distraction turned into annoyance and growing anxiety when the first few pairs of eyes turned his way repeatedly because it became more and more impossibly to stop shifting his weight and trying not to press his legs together too conspicuously. Inside his head he was cursing in all languages he knew the choice for this nothing of a piece of clothing, the white and gold color of which would give away immediately if he failed to control even such a primitive, basic function of this useless body for just a second. Mairon thought, he was doing a pretty good job, still hardly moving a muscle, but whenever he caught just a glimpse of his master's twisted mind in the shredded, cloudy bond between their souls, he could feel the lazy acid bubbling there that was Melkor's sadistic arousal, and he knew, his little, inaudible gasps and the heat of his temperature rising, radiating from his body more by the second, did not go unnoticed.

More than one of Mairon’s own subjects was openly leering at this point, some whispering and chuckling darkly as pale eyes watched the small beads of sweat from strain building on Mairon's forehead.

Gothmog was shamelessly staring at his midsection and licking his lips with his forked tongue, clearly indulging in the perverted fantasies of all the things he would be allowed to do tonight if Mairon managed to anger his Lord enough with his mortal weakness.

It was mostly the stubbornness not to give in to these wordless taunts that helped Mairon, somehow, to hold on to the last of muscle control by sheer willpower alone until the room finally started to empty.

"Am I excused, my Lord?" he got out between gritted teeth, his hands hard fists by his sides just from the effort of not grabbing his bloated midsection, or his aching cock through his clothes, to make sure he would make it the few feet down the hall, to the next free chambers, to finally empty his bladder.

"Not until I decide you learned how not to fail me," Melkor said flatly, still not turning around but busy gathering the last of parchments from the notes one of the orcs had taken during the conversation. "But if that's what you mean: Since you are obviously not even able to control a weak shape like this for half a day, you may go. Try not to make a mess on the floor."

Another day, Mairon might have returned the provocation, might have stayed just in spite, to prove to his master that he was very much capable of everything his Lord asked him to do. Only he was not, not when he was deliberately slowed and restricted in his powers. Mairon was ready to prove himself to his Lord anytime, but not if it was only for Melkor's amusement. If he wanted to be a thrall, he could as well have stayed in Valinor. "Milord." With a rather cool nod, he finally walked past his master, his steps as stiff as his posture. Not for long though, because just before he could get out of reach, a harsh slap from a huge hand suddenly landed on his behind, hard enough to bruise. Thanks to all his muscles contracting from the unexpected impact, a sinister pain stabbed his midsection. With a small scream, Mairon toppled over and reached between his legs in growing desperation to prevent the worst, but it was too late. His hand came back wet, and another hot, treacherous stream trickled down the insides of his thighs, darkening the front of his robe, leaving a sharp-smelling trace on his skin and dripping from his knee-high leather boots on the uneven, rocky ground.

"Look at that. Here I was just thinking about complimenting your excellent fashion choices, my pet, and you had to ruin it again." The same unforgiving hand grabbed his hair and pulled him back upright before he could regather his composure. The ominous lights of the Silmarils shining on his master's pale forehead stung in Mairon's eyes when Melkor pulled him close and licked the salt of sweat and tears of humiliation off his cheeks, off his lips, then biting the sensitive skin hard enough to bruise.

The other hand found the bulge under Mairon's now-ruined robe and pushed against it until Mairon cried out, fighting the hold on his braid in vain, shuddering both in disgust and relief when another small trickle of shame escaped his straining cock, the wet patch at his front growing.

He had long learned better than to beg, but his eyes were apparently a clear enough mirror of the torture of the last few hours, because Melkor's sharp-toothed grin only grew; he let go of him unexpectedly and pushed him away to get up, a clear bulge of arousal showing under his own tight pants. "It looks like we'll have to start teaching you discipline from the very start again, my pet. I will see you in my quarters tonight. I trust you will keep yourself properly hydrated until then." With that, his master left him to his shame.

*********

Mortified and wrathful as he had been, it turned out, it didn't take Mairon long to wish himself be back in that moldy conference hall full of people amused by his comparatively meager suffering.

"Is this not what you wanted, my favorite pet?," Melkor chuckled when another pained groan came from Mairon's lips at the merciless metal pull of metal rings around his cock and balls, endangering his skin that was already stretched beyond its limits, raw and chafed, more by the minute.

Even if he could have, Mairon would not have granted his lover the satisfaction of an answer. But he tried to turn his head away from the thick metal phallus stretching his mouth open anyway, in vain, when another gush of ice cold water came through the hole in the middle of the toy, flowing fast and harshly right towards the back of his throat. Which left him no choice but to swallow again though his belly was already bloated painfully from too much fluid once more, hanging low from where his master had strung him up by his wrists and ankles, swinging and gurgling lazily with every thrust of his master's enormous cock into Mairon's lube-dripping hole. Swinging, just like the huge bucket that his master had tied to his swollen genitals with heavy chains, positioned in such a way that every unwanted new stream of waste from Mairon's bound cock filled it up further. It was really only a matter of time until this easily breakable flesh would no longer be able to resist that gruesome tug, and Mairon had a vague idea, his master had no plans of patching the deadly, tasteless kind of wounds up that unpleasant moment would leave. Apparently, another body had run its course. What bothered Mairon most about spending all his energy once more on another disposable shape, was that his lover was right, of course … This was exactly what he had wanted. Finally being the center of his lover's attention again, being speared open by that magnificent cock, used and abused only for his master's pleasure … He thought he might even have been able to come just from this, in spite of the pain in his groin, if his lover had not once more made sure he couldn’t. No, the noises from his lips were not of protest. They were offense. After all these punishments Mairon had endured today – in all of these last years, really –, the least he deserved was finally being allowed to come properly again.

But his wishes, as was life in Melkor's fortress, were rarely of any concern for his lover, so he had to be satisfied with the telltale twitch of his lover's crooked cock inside of him when Melkor reached under him to feel the grotesque swellings of Mairon's overfilled stomach and bladder and press his sharp-nailed fingertips deeply into the cramping organs until Mairon screamed around his gag and relieved himself unwillingly into the bucket once more.

If it was only the pleasure of his suffering that could close the wound of hurt pride and tactical disadvantage that Mairon's mistakes a few years back had torn, he would happily sacrifice another dozen bodies. Something tore between his legs that was not supposed to come off when the relentless pull of the chain ripped harder on his flesh, and Mairon was pretty sure, that was no longer just waste in that bucket, but that was also when his lover came deep inside of him, finally, the comforting, too-hot pulse of rotten seed warming his shaking body from the inside. Mairon's trapped balls gave another helpless pulse of their last ruined orgasm before they came off with a wet gush. As he gave him to the darkness of agony washing over his mind, Mairon decided, his next shape definitely needed a bigger bladder.

#Sauron #morgoth #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #outofangband #angbang

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