#isolated herd

[vox-anglosphere]

The world's last herd of wild cattle has been enclosed at Chillingham for 800 years. They remain fierce with humans and with each other.

[felsicveins]

Alrighty, another ex revealed! Meet Barley! I demanded that @persistenttenderness conjure up a bf for John Dory and this is who they came up with ❤️ 🐎

[randomwriteronline]

It was Nokama's fault. Of course it was Nokama's fault. It had to be Nokama's fault, because Nokama always got him to do what she asked.

Because they were friends, and he could never deny Nokama anything she asked.

So there he was. Standing before a big, stupid something that he recognized but refused to address as it should have been, perfectly frozen, glaring at what little he could see of a Ruru and Mahiki and Komau as they peeked through the barrier in their work.

His friend nudged him forward, saying nothing. He gave her a tired look; she squeezed his hand in her own with a small sad smile and crawled into the structure to help, leaving him to decide what to do on his own.

He felt so exhausted.

Whenua's head perked up beyond the barrier to look him in the eye.

"We're working for you too, you know," he said simply. "I don't think anybody would complain if you got up here. Maybe even lent us a hand with that Matatu of yours."

"Whenua," Nokama murmured.

"I know. I know."

Matau just leaned over and extended a hand towards him invitingly without a saying single word. Nuju took it, allowing himself to be hefted into the structure by his fellow Turaga.

It felt comfortable and enveloping in the best of ways, like a light embrace draped over one's shoulders. The flooring was soft yet perfectly solid under his feet; considering the rocky outcrop on which it was perched did not have a shape that could have been considered pleasant to lay or even just stand on, they must have been hard at work for quite some time now.

He watched them as they went back to their business while he could not move an inch.

His limbs seemed filled with molten lead. No matter how much he told himself to at least do the bare minimum, even just get out of the way so he could allow them to work on the spot he was occupying, his body simply did not register his demands. He was stuck in it like a pebble fallen deep into a too thin vein, blocking the until then streaming flow behind as it struggles in vain to push through, only managing to clog it further.

Steady hands grasped him and dragged his unmoving form back - both to reality, and towards an edge of the structure that evidently the others had deemed complete.

He was sat down with little force on the soft pavement; a lukewarm palm pressed slightly on his back to force his posture straight before he hunched miserably towards the floor. Something about the action reached into his entrails to unlock something, an uncomfortable feeling of resignation he had been trying to crush between his gears for days: weakly, he shut his eyes hard and leaned back as far into Onewa's chest as the other allowed him.

His fellow Turaga said nothing, grazing the back of Nuju's head with his mask.

The silence was unpleasant.

He couldn't bring himself to break it.

Fingers covered in scars, that had been broken many times, caressed his arm - he found his eyelids flying open all of a sudden, caught by surprise despite swearing he had been aware and alert. Had he dozed off? While they'd been working? Some useful member of the team he was, at a time like this nonetheless. Matau met his gaze without accusing him of anything: he offered the colder being half of an embrace that he accepted wholly despite a tired dullness dampening any display of appreciation with a lack of enthusiasm, eyes sinking into the greenish shoulder.

Nuju felt the two press against him as they leaned further onto him, as though they were the ones in dire need of support; it wasn't long before Nokama and Whenua's rustling stopped, and their weights too gently added themselves to those already pinning the Turaga of Ice to his seat.

His whole frame shuddered, wrecked by a sudden chill.

Arms tangled around him to trap him within their loving web. The other four swayed his body gently alongside their own, pushing and pulling him with a magnificent tenderness to lay him down, down with them, in their embrace, in their nest, falling into place against each other like puzzle pieces of a still incomplete enigma, haunted by the void they could not fill but trying, at the very least, to bring one another a glimmer of solace despite the absence cutting into their limbs and chests.

Nuju curled tighter into the affection surrounding him to try and stave off the lack of heat.

-

The firespitter was dragged away from the Agori healers who discharged him with feverish vigor and many hurried thanks that Whenua forgot to speak out loud and Onewa had to relay for him - they would compare the frenzy of the Turaga who came to pick him up to that of many mice, or bugs, scuttling about as fast as they could to grab all sorts of crumbs with their quick little fingers before anybody could chase them out of the room.

He was weak, still, during the first few days, and so the others had agreed that nobody was allowed to see him. If any of the Toa wanted to catch a glimpse of him they would either have to wait or seek audience at the foot of the nest he'd been hushered into, only being allowed any closer by a unanimous vote.

There was no need to fear for his condition anyways: he was being cared for in more ways than the healers could have provided, and they knew that.

Vakama had no intention of removing himself from his kin's embrace, either.

No matter who asked to see him he remained willingly lodged between them, kept warm by their presence around him as his body struggled to heat up in the way his element demanded he be able to, safely tucked within Nuju's arms; he clung to the Turaga of Ice in his sleep as hard as the other clung to him, and surrounded by friends in one another's grasp they slept better than they had in weeks.

[enniewritesathing]

shots from each scene

[beingatoaster]

Equine bliss: rolling around in the dirt ten feet and a fenceline from your best buddy that you've never touched because you're both ridiculously fancy show animals and god forbid one of you get nicked or bruised in a normal horse interaction

[undeadhorse]

9pm is like. consistently the time of day where i go completely insane for an hour or two. my brain is a sad and frustrating creature some days. my meat has issues that pervade my day to day life and present bizarre invisible emotional mazes for me to navigate.

[twinterrors29]

Ahsoka is a young ambush predator, and does not handle the 'hurry up and wait' pace of life between battles well at all

so Rex develops a game for her:

Rex will discreetly tag one of the troopers with the equivalent of a space kick me sign on the back, and Ahsoka then has to isolate them from the herd and pounce

not only does this serve as Enrichment in his Commander's Enclosure, it's also a good test of his men's situational awareness

not to mention, it's a good mechanism for a little petty revenge every now and then

he'll occasionally also 'loan her out' to Wolffe or Cody as a chance to stress-test their own troopers' level of vigilance (and give Torrent a break from her reign of terror)

[sai-int]

LOW COUNTRY | INTRODUCTIONS

johnny mactavish x reader

[NEXT] [AO3] [MLIST]

mild swearing, lots of plot

The farm isn’t just a home—it’s a responsibility, a burden you never planned on shouldering alone.

You left this place once you were fresh out of high school, eager to escape the quiet, the isolation of the small town you grew up in. The city called to you, and you answered. New York City—the hustle, the noise, the lights. It was everything your small-town heart dreamed of. The world felt wide and full of possibility. You imagined yourself growing into the person you’d always wanted to be. College and a future in the city, away from the farm, away from the confines of the life that had always been so familiar, so small.

But then, one night after a bar-crawl with your friends marking the end of your Senior year, you got the call.

Your Ma had passed away. Just like that—no warning, no time to prepare.

You dropped everything. That’s what you do when family calls. You go home. The city and all your plans  felt so far away as you packed your bags and made the drive back to the farm. When you drove up the long driveway, the house sat there in the distance, almost looking the same, but so much different all at once. It felt wrong without your Ma's laugh echoing through the halls, her hum in the kitchen, her steady presence.

The funeral came and went in a blur of emotion, family, and loss. It was all a whirlwind, a blur of faces, of handshakes, and hushed condolences. But when the dust settled, the reality set in. Your Pa needed help. There was no denying it. He wasn’t the same man anymore—not without your Ma beside him.

So, you stayed. You told yourself it was temporary—just a few weeks, maybe a month at most. You’d help him get back on his feet, make sure everything was squared away, then go back to the city. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Mere months  turned into two years. One look at your Pa—slow-moving, his back hunched a little more each day, his hands trembled a little more than they used to—and you knew.

You couldn’t leave him.

The farm, with all its heavy tasks and responsibilities, became yours. For a while, your Pa tried to help, tried to keep his old pace. But as time passed and his grief only grew, his strength had faded, and soon, the weight of the work was yours to bear alone. He couldn’t lift the hay bales like he used to, couldn’t herd the sheep the way he had before. And those trips to the farthest corner of the farm on horseback, checking the fences, making sure everything was secure? You reckoned he couldn’t even get on a saddle.

You didn’t mind at first. It was just the two of you now, and you loved this place, loved the land, loved what it represented, It was home. But there were moments—the quiet ones, when everything slowed down—that the weight of it all settled heavily on your shoulders. You weren’t a farmhand. You were a woman who had spent her whole upbringing dreaming of more. A different life. But now, you’re tied to this place. Tied to your Pa. And your Ma's laugh still lingers in the walls, thick and heavy like the humidity that Summer brings each morning. 

You’re exhausted, frustrated—running on fumes. You can’t keep doing it all, but there’s no choice. The farm, the animals, the crops, the house... and Pa. You’re stretched thin, your bones aching under the weight of responsibilities that pile up faster than you can manage. The idea of doing it all alone feels like a cruel joke.

Something’s got to give. 

The help-wanted flyers were your last-ditch effort. You spent the better half of the previous night making them yourself, attempting to make them each as uniform as possible. 

‘FARMHAND WANTED. 

DEPENDABLE WORKERS AND SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY. 

CALL XXX-XXX-XXXX FOR DETAILS.’

If you didn’t find someone soon, you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it together. So, as the clock striked 8 AM the next morning, you climbed into Pa’s old pick-up, the engine coughing to life as you made your way into town.

You’d been born and raised here. The downtown—if it can even be called that—of Williston is small, everyone knows everyone, and most folks are working-class, middle-aged. The kind of people who offered a warm smile and a helping hand without a second thought. You’d grown up with their kindness, and now, as you hung those flyers in their storefront windows, you could feel the weight of their stares—half concern, half curiosity.

They all know your story by now. They’d watched you grow up, watched you leave, and then watched you come back after everything fell apart. You could feel the sympathy in their eyes, but they never let it show—there was a quiet understanding between you all. Their hospitality was something you could never take for granted.

But no amount of kind gestures could change the fact that you need help. And fast.

You pull into an empty parking space a block away from Main St, quickly hopping out and make your way through town, handing out flyers to shop owners and sticking them to cork boards. It’s routine. A simple task, but the weight of it all makes it feel heavier than it should. The town’s small enough that you’re familiar with most of the faces, and it feels like you’ve talked to half the town by the time the afternoon rolls around. You’re famished—your stomach growling louder than the engine of Pa’s truck as you finish your rounds.

You head into the local bar/diner/cafe/pawnshop, the comforting smell of fried food and coffee hanging in the air. The place is familiar, cozy—its booths all torn leather, worn but inviting. Al—or Crazy Al, as most call him—the owner, gives you a warm smile when you walk in, his graying hair poking out from beneath his old baseball cap. He’s been here longer than anyone can remember.

“Ya look like ya could use a milkshake,” he says, already putting scoops of vanilla ice cream into the blender.

You nod, grateful for the small kindness. Al gestures toward one of the metal bar stools in front of him, you sit and his eyes narrow a little when he notices the exhaustion written across your face.

“What’s got’ya  all wound up, kid?” he asks, pouring the milkshake in a mug and handing it to you

You eye the mug with momentary confusion before you choose to ignore his choice of cups. You take a deep breath, the weight of the day hitting you all over again. “It’s the farm,” you say, swirling the straw in the thick milkshake, not sure where to start. “Pa’s slowing down. I’m running everything from the crops, to the cows, to the house. I can’t keep up.”

Al nods, his expression softening in sympathy as he leans back against the counter. “That’s a helluva load for one person. Yer doin’ right by yer Pa, though, kid. Ya know that?”

You smile faintly, but it fades quickly. “I’m just doing what needs to be done, but it’s just not enough anymore. So I’m trying to find someone to help—a guy, young and strong, you know? I just can’t do it all by myself.”

You slide one of the flyers across the counter to Al, asking him to keep an eye out. “If you see anyone, just... send them my way? I’m desperate, at this point.”

He takes the flyer, his gaze flickering to the paper before meeting your eyes again. “Funny ya mention that,” Al says, scratching his chin. “There’s a new guy who popped up not a day ago. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but he was askin’ around for work. Thought he looked a little outta place for this town, but...”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘out of place’?”

“Just dun’ seem like he belonged, I guess. Looks like he went to Iraq or wherever they’re fightin’ these days.” He shrugs. “But hey, if ya need someone, ya might want to track ‘em down. If I see ‘em again, I’ll send him yer way.”

You nod, feeling a spark of hope. “You’re a Godsend, Al.”

About a week later, it’s a humid Wednesday morning in the heart of August. The kind of heat that clings to your skin, even when the sun’s hiding behind a blanket of clouds. A slight fog lingers in the air, and the scent of sweet grass drifts through the open windows, carried by a lazy breeze. The sun’s rays begin to break through the mist, casting long fingers of light across the fields and trees in the distance.

You finish cleaning up after breakfast, the dishes clinking softly in the sink. Pa’s moved from the dining table to sit in his ratty old armchair in the corner, eyes half-lidded as the local weatherman drones on about tomorrow’s rainstorm. It’s a quiet, familiar morning—the kind you’ve gotten used to in the last couple of years. Your hair’s tied up, a few loose strands sticking to your sun-kissed skin as you wipe down the counter, sweat beading lightly on your neck.

Then you hear it—boots on the porch.

Your body tenses instinctively, the old reflex kicking in. You consider grabbing the shotgun atop the door frame, but a second later, you shake the thought off. It’s overkill, and you’ve got enough sense to know it.

You open the door, not expecting much, probably some girl scouts, or worse, another annoying sales rep. from out of town.

You grasp the handle, pulling open the door, “Look, whatever you're selling, I ain’t buying. I got enough shit to pay fo-”

Standing there is a man, 6 '2 if you had to guess, built like a damn ox, all sharp angles and hard muscle, hair a cropped mohawk that looks like it belongs on someone ten times tougher than him. His eyes are so blue they nearly blind you, but they seem to hold a storm behind them, like he’s seen some shit.  But what really gets you is that smirk. It makes you want to both slap and kiss him at the same time.

And then he opens his mouth, and…

Definitely not American. Not even close.

You blink, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve stepped into some strange dream. You’ve always been more open-minded than most of the people in town, but hearing that thick accent in the middle of your quiet, rural world makes everything suddenly feel a little too strange. Now you get what Al was talking about when he mentioned, “Not from around here.”

He’s dressed in a dark blue flannel, sleeves rolled up to reveal a white wife beater underneath, the fabric stretched tight over his chest. A neat, tiny gold cross between each pec, as if to say ‘Hey! Look at my man-tits!’ His denim jeans are worn, the brown scuffs on the knees looking like he’s been praying in dirt. And those forearms… Thick and muscular, veins running like rivers beneath his skin- stop it.

You force your focus back up to his face, and it’s just as distracting. Soft stubble accented by the sharp slope of his nose. He stands tall, looking at you like he’s waiting for something—oh. He spoke, and now you were supposed to respond. That is how conversations work.

 You’re not the type to generally stare at people, but something about him, something in the way he carries himself. You try not to notice how his broad shoulders fill the doorway like he’s daring you to le- STOP.

He shifts on his feet, a hint of uncertainty behind that cocky grin. You can tell he’s not as sure of himself as he’s trying to appear. Maybe that’s the only thing stopping you from slamming the door in his face.

Still, you don’t trust him. Why would a guy like that want a job on a farm in the middle of nowhere? He looks like he could be doing much more important things—literally anywhere else—but he’s here. Standing on your porch with your flyer slightly crumpled in his big hands. 

“What can I do for you?” You try to sound cool, collected, but your tone comes out a little sharper than you meant.

He tilts his head, the smirk never wavering. “I hear ye're lookin’ for a hand.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That right?”

“Aye,” he answers, his accent thick and heavy, rolling the words in a way that makes the air feel hotter than it already is.

He steps a little closer, just enough to make you take a half step back. “Name’s Johnny-” he stretches his hand out, “Mactavish. I’m lookin’ for work. Could use somethin’ steady.”

You study him for a second, arms crossed, and wonder if you should even entertain this. A man like him could be trouble. Hell, a man like him is trouble. You take his hand in yours, giving it a solid shake.

“Do you know anything about farms?” with crossed arms and raised eyebrows, you don't bother to hide the skepticism in your voice.

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I’ve done my share o’ heavy liftin’. Hard work don’t scare me.”

“Alright,” you hum, stepping back and letting the door swing open a little wider. “Come on in. I’ll get you something to drink, but don’t think you’re on the job yet. I’m just…” you pause, “Interviewing, I guess.”

He gives you another smirk,more amused than cocky as he steps past you. “Yes ma’am.”

You step aside, letting him in, and the moment he crosses the threshold, he fills the space. It’s not just his size—though, yeah, the man is big—it’s his presence. Something about him shifts the air, like he’s the sun and everything around him are just mere planets, susceptible to his magnetic pull. The house, your home, suddenly feels a little too small.

His smile fades, just slightly, as he takes it all in. Maybe it’s the warmth of the place, the scent of coffee lingering from breakfast, the old family photos lining the walls. Or maybe it’s just the quiet—different from whatever he’s used to.

“The hell is this?”

Pa’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and confused. He’s already halfway up from his chair, eyes narrowed, hands braced on the armrests like he’s about to stand but isn’t quite sure if it’s worth the effort. His gaze flicks between you and the very large, very unfamiliar man now standing in his house.

You sigh, already anticipating the reaction. “Pa, relax,” you say, walking over to him, ready to placate. “I was just looking for some help around the farm.”

Pa squints at the stranger like he’s trying to figure out whether he’s real or just a heat stroke-induced hallucination. “Help? With what?”

“With everything, Pa.” You lower your voice to a whisper-shout, rubbing your temple. “You can’t keep up the way you used to, and neither can I. We need someone else.”

Pa grumbles something under his breath before scoffing. “And how exactly do ya plan to pay ‘em, huh? We can’t afford that.”

You set your jaw firm. “I’ll make it work, I promise”

That makes him pause. He knows that tone. Knows it the same way he knew your mother’s, unyielding and steady, like a tree standing firm against the wind. Your roots bury deep in the ground you walk on, just like her. There’s no use arguing when you get like this, and he’s too tired to fight a battle he knows he’ll lose.

Still, his lips press into a thin line, his weathered hands gripping the armrests of his recliner before he exhales, slow and resigned. “Stubborn like your mother, I tell ya.”

The words land heavier than you’d like. You huff out a breath, shoving it down before it can settle too deep—before your guest gets too curious. You don’t need a stranger poking around and popping stitches.

So instead, you turn away from Pa as he sits back down, still muttering under his breath, and quickly clear the dining table of a few lingering cups from breakfast. The kitchen’s only a few steps away, the open floor plan letting you move freely. You rinse out a glass and fill it with cool, sweet tea, condensation already forming on the outside as the humid air clings to it. It’s an old habit, a simple kindness—making sure guests have something to drink.

When you turn back, you see that Johnny’s wandered toward the wall, where a small collection of family photos are hung in mismatched frames. He’s standing still, his broad shoulders relaxed but his head tilted slightly, studying them. Studying you.

Your stomach twists when you realize which one he’s looking at.

It’s old, a little faded in its frame, but still clear—you, small and bright-eyed, cloaked in your Ma's too-big dress and classy jewelry, drowning in fabric and pearls as you grin at the camera. Your Ma's crouched beside you, laughing, her arms wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. The slight shadow of your Pa holding the camera, capturing a moment frozen in time.

You clear your throat, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of last night's baseball game replaying from the tv. Dave Winfield hit his 400th home run last night against the Twins. Johnny’s attention was pulled back to you. His blue eyes flicker with something unreadable before he schools his face.

You don’t give him the chance to say anything. Instead, you hold up the glass and gesture toward the dining table. “Sit.”

He does, pulling out one of the side chairs and settling into it with an easy, almost lazy confidence. You set the glass in front of him and take the seat at the head of the table, watching him as he wraps his fingers around the sweating drink.

And for the first time since he showed up, he’s quiet. 

You realize, rather suddenly, that you’re not actually sure what to ask him. You’ve never interviewed anyone before—never had to. The farm’s always been run by family.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly in your chair, trying not to feel small under his gaze. He’s watching you—not in a way that feels threatening, but in a way that makes you hyper-aware of yourself. Of the way your fingers tap against the tabletop, of the bead of sweat still clinging to your collarbone from the August heat.

You square your shoulders and push past it. “So,” you start, “what kind of experience do you have with hard labor?”

He leans back a little, forearms flexing just enough to be distracting. “Done my fair share,” he says, voice casual, like he’s talking about the weather.

You arch a brow. “Like?”

His lips twitch, just slightly, like he can tell you’re trying to keep up the tough act. “Military.”

That gives you pause. Military. You study him again, looking past his too-relaxed posture. Yeah, you can see it now—in the way he holds himself, in the sharpness of his gaze, in the way he takes in a room like he’s cataloging exits.

“What branch?” you ask.

“UK Special Forces.”

That surprises you, but you keep your face neutral. You wondered what brought him here, of all places. Obviously he wasn’t American, he sounds like Groundskeeper Willie, for Christ's sake. Your fingers tap against the table once before you ask, “What’d you do?”

He hesitates. It’s slight, barely there, but you catch it. His jaw tenses for just a fraction of a second before he exhales through his nose. “Served where I was needed.”

You tilt your head. “Iraq?”

His eyes flicker—not with surprise, but with something else. A shadow. It’s gone just as quickly as it appears, buried under that same easy smirk. “Among other places.”

You don’t push. You just nod, sensing that it’s not something he wants to talk about all that much.

You’re fine with that. Everyone’s got their wounds.

You exhale, shifting slightly in your seat, fingers drumming lightly against the wooden tabletop. “How much can you lift?”

Johnny takes his time answering, reaching for the glass of sweet tea. He swirls it absently, watching the condensation bead and trail down the sides before taking a slow sip. “Depends,” he finally says, setting it down with a soft thud.“What’re we talkin’? Hay bales? Fence posts? You?”

Your lips press together in a flat line. You refuse to bite. “Let’s stick to hay bales.”

His grin is slow and amused, like he enjoys getting under your skin. “Can handle hay bales no problem.”

You roll your eyes and shift topics before he can drag this out. “Ever ridden horses?”

He stretches slightly, rolling his broad shoulders before settling back into the chair. “Aye, a few times,” he says, tipping his head. “No’ often, but I ken how.”

You nod, working through his accent in your head, but ultimately satisfied enough with that. “Ever herded sheep?”

His brow quirks, and he tilts his head just slightly, giving you a look. “Aren’t there dogs for tha’?”

You let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking your head as you lean forward to rest your elbows on the table. “Yeah, there are. But Dixie’s old now and too nice for her own good. Sleeps with the sheep more than she herds them. Think she likes being part of the flock.”

Johnny’s expression shifts just a fraction—nose wrinkling, jaw tensing like he’s biting back a reaction. Then, casually, like it’s nothing, he mutters, “No’ really fond o’ dogs.”

Your fingers tap against the table once before you hum, neither surprised nor bothered. “That’s fine. Dixie’ll leave you alone if you don’t want to interact with her, she’s a sweet girl though.”

Johnny exhales through his nose and nods, shifting in his chair. He leans back, resting one arm over the backrest like he owns the damn thing, settling into an easy, almost lazy posture. You, on the other hand, are still sitting straight, trying to keep some sense of control in this conversation. You move toward the standard questions—his work ethic, reliability, how soon he can start. Hopefully ASAP.

He answers everything with the kind of confidence that makes it clear he’s no stranger to hard labor, though he keeps the details vague, like he doesn’t see the point in spelling things out to you

Eventually, you sit back, rubbing your hands over your thighs before resting them in your lap. “Look,” you start, exhaling slowly. “I’ll be honest with you. I can’t pay much. It’s a lot of work for a little money.” You’re already bracing yourself for rejection.

Johnny’s quiet for a moment, like he’s really thinking it over. His fingers tap lightly against the table’s edge before he shifts, rolling his shoulders once more before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I’ll work withou’ pay,” he says finally. “So long as I get a place tae sleep. An’ meals.”

That throws you a little. Your fingers tighten around the fabric of your worn jeans as you study him, searching his face for any flicker of dishonesty. But he doesn’t look like a man trying to con you—just someone who’s already made up his mind.

He watches you right back, head tilted slightly, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll argue.

You think on it. It’d be more cost-effective to add a couple extra eggs or greens to each meal rather than shell out cash on the daily. You don’t particularly like the idea of someone working for free, but if he’s willing, if it helps keep the farm running.

You nod, exhaling through your nose. “That can work.” This time you extend your hand first, across the table and palm up. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Johnny glances down at your hand, then back up at you. Slowly, he reaches out, his grip firm and his hand dwarves yours. Working hands, warm, rough with calluses. The shake lingers just a second longer than necessary before he lets go, settling back into his seat with an easy smile.

“Guess I’m yours then, boss.”

You spend the next few hours showing Johnny around the property, riding side by side on horseback. Before you even get 5 minutes out of the barn, you realize—for all his confidence—he’s not the best at riding. His posture is stiff, his grip on the reins just a little too tight, and when the horse starts to trot, it becomes painfully obvious—he can’t post to save his life.

You bite back a smile, watching as he bounces awkwardly in the saddle, his jaw tight with concentration. Yeah. That’d be a lesson for tomorrow.

For now, though, you make things easier on both of you. You have Johnny dismount the horse and put her back in her stall. He does so with a small huff, rubbing the back of his neck in embarassment, and you gesture for him to get on behind you on Shimmer—your brown beauty with a white patch on her forehead. She’s steady, calm, used to being ridden double.

He hesitates for only a second before swinging himself up behind you, settling in close. Closer than you’d realized he’d be.

It makes sense, he takes up a lot of space compared to you. Granted, Shimmer is a horse for your size, not his. His chest is flush against your back, warm and solid, and suddenly, you’re very aware of just how big he is. His arms rest lightly on either side of you, long enough for his hands gripping the saddle’s pommel as he adjusts. 

You swallow hard, fighting the blush creeping up your neck. Focus.

“You good back there?” Your voice is steady, but barely.

Johnny shifts slightly, just enough that his chest presses firmer against you. “Aye,” he says, low and smooth. “Though, I cannae say I mind the view from back here.”

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on guiding Shimmer forward instead of the warmth of him against your spine.

Tomorrow, you’ll teach him how to properly ride a horse.

You guide Shimmer across the acres, Johnny still seated behind you, his chest a steady presence against your back. You don’t bother overwhelming him with too much about the animals—there’d be time for that later. For now, you focus on the land itself, pointing out the ins and outs of the property. The best routes to take. The spots where the fence needs checking. Where the land dips and swells, where the ground gets soft after rain. What to avoid.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just nod along like he’s only half-listening—he absorbs everything.

You’d expected some level of attention, but Johnny takes it to another level. He’s perceptive, and alarmingly so. He never asks you to repeat yourself, doesn’t need clarification. His responses are short but sharp, repeating directions back to you with precision, like he’s filing everything away for later.

It shocks you a little. Most people take weeks to learn the best ways around the farm, to memorize which fence posts need reinforcing, which pasture belongs to which animal.

Johnny’s picking it up in hours.

You exhale, eyes scanning the land ahead as you consider it. Must be the military. You don’t know much about what exactly the UK has their Army doing, but you imagine remembering terrain was part of the job. Mapping escape routes, tracking paths, knowing where to move and when. James Bond shit.

It’s a little unnerving, if you’re being honest. But at the same time, it’s... reassuring. If he can learn this fast, maybe he’ll actually be useful around here.

By the time the sun starts its slow descent, painting the sky in hazy streaks of orange and pink, you’ve spent the better part of the day word-vomiting everything Johnny needs to know about the property. He took it all in with that same sharp, unnerving focus, barely asking questions, barely missing a beat. You’d expected him to lose interest, to at least seem overwhelmed, but he never did. It’s strange.

It’s late afternoon. You bring him inside, leading him upstairs to the guest bedroom.

The layout of the house is simple. All the bedrooms are on the second floor. Pa’s bedroom is to the left of the stairs, along with a storage room and a couple of closets down the hall. He’s got his own ensuite bathroom, which is a luxury in a house this old. There’s a small common area at the top of the stairs, more of a nook than a real room, where an old desk and a shelf full of worn books sit untouched most days. To the right of the stairs and down the hall is your bedroom, and next to it, the guest room—now Johnny’s room. Directly across the hall is the bathroom, which, as of now, isn’t just your bathroom anymore.

It’s Johnny’s too, now. You just had to pray he would remember to put the seat down. 

You pause outside the guest room, pushing the door open so he can step in. It’s simple—a sturdy bed, a nightstand, a decently sized dresser. Nothing fancy, but clean and comfortable enough.

Johnny steps inside, tossing his bag onto the bed and glancing around. He gives a small nod, like he approves, before shooting a look over his shoulder.

"Cozy," he remarks, that damn accent making the word sound richer than it has any right to.

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “My room’s next door,” you tell him, nodding toward it. “And we’ll be sharing the bathroom across the hall.”

Johnny quirks a brow at that, glancing toward the bathroom before his gaze slides back to you. His lips twitch—not quite a smirk, but damn close.

“Hope ye dinnae take long showers, then,” he teases.

You huff, pushing off the doorframe. “I don’t. I won’t be in your way. Hope you won’t be in mine.”

He chuckles, low and amused, before stretching his arms above his head, the hem of his wife beater riding up just enough to reveal a dark tuft of hair, tastefully accented by a vline and the bottom half of some abs. He sighs, rolling his shoulders. “Well, as long as ye don’t mind m’walkin’ around in a towel,  we’ll get along just fine.”

You blink. Once. Twice. He’s messing with you, but you wouldn’t mind a bit. You don’t give him the satisfaction of hearing that. “I’ll let you get settled,” you say, tone flat. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Johnny watches you for a second, then grins—a lazy, wolfish thing that makes your stomach flip in a way you’d rather not acknowledge.

“Yes ma’am,” he drawls. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. You turn on your heel and head back downstairs, exhaling as you step into the kitchen. Dinner. You’ll focus on dinner. For you, Pa—and now, Johnny.

Like it’s normal. Like you’re not dangerously aware of the Greek God now living just a door down from you.

The sun’s nearly set by the time dinner’s on the table, casting a warm orange glow through the kitchen windows. The air is thick with the scent of home-cooked food—something rich, filling, the kind of meal that sticks to your ribs after a long day’s work. You don’t cook fancy, but you cook damn well, and the proof is sitting right across from you.

Johnny practically groans after the first bite, dropping his fork against his plate and leaning back in his chair like he’s just had some religious experience.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” he mumbles, chewing through another mouthful, shaking his head in near disbelief. “This is th’ best thing I’ve eaten in—hell, I dunno how long.”

You scoff, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork. “You act like I just served you the cure for cancer.”

Johnny just points his fork at you, eyes damn serious. “Might as well be.”

Pa huffs out a chuckle, though he’s still regarding Johnny with that wary, fatherly suspicion. He’s been watching him since he sat down, not quite unfriendly, but assessing. The kind of look that says ‘I don’t trust you yet, but I’m willing to tolerate you.’

“So,” Pa starts, setting his glass down, “what’s a young guy like yourself doin’ lookin’ for farm work? Dun’ seem like the kinda thing a soldier would go for.”

Johnny doesn’t falter. He wipes his mouth with a napkin before answering, “Needed a change o’ pace,” he says. “Figured I’d try m’hand at something new.”

Pa isn’t impressed. “Ya ever worked on a farm before, boy?”

“No’ exactly, no.” Johnny pops another bite into his mouth. “But work’s work, aye? Ye put in effort, ye get results. Simple enough.”

Pa hums, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “... And where’d ya say your from, again?”

“Scotland.”

“Huh.” Pa leans back slightly, arms crossed. “Ya don’t say.”

Johnny just grins, sensing the old man’s suspicion and, by all accounts, enjoying it. But then he shifts gears, effortlessly steering the conversation in a different direction. “Caught some of tha’ baseball game ye had on this morning.,” he says, casually, like it’s just an offhand remark. “Did nae get tae see th’ end of it, though. Who won?”

That gets Pa’s attention. His eyebrows lift slightly, suspicion briefly forgotten. “Ya watch baseball?”

Johnny shrugs. “Not often, bu’ I like a good game when I see one. And from what I saw, th’ Angel’s were struggling there for a bit.”

Pa scoffs. “Struggling? Boy, they were getting their asses handed to ‘em. Pitcher was all over the damn place. If I’d been on the field, I’d have-”

And just like that, the two are off, talking baseball, going back and forth like they’ve known each other for years. You groan, pushing your food around on your plate as the conversation carries on, completely hijacked.

You should’ve known this would happen. Give two men a sport to bond over, and suddenly, they’re best friends.

You zone out for a while, chewing absentmindedly, half-listening as they talk about batting averages and pitching speeds. You don’t notice it at first—a gentle nudge against your ankle.

You flinch slightly, assuming Johnny just bumped you on accident. You shift your foot away under the table.

He follows with his own. Your brows furrow slightly, shooting a glance at him. He doesn’t even look at you, still chatting with Pa like nothing’s happening.

A moment later, another nudge—softer this time.

You realize he’s doing it on purpose.

You sit up straighter, stiffening as you move your foot again.

Johnny follows.

Your jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. What is he doing?

You flick your gaze toward him again, and finally, he meets your eyes. Just for a second. Just long enough for the ghost of a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth before he looks back at Pa, completely unfazed.

You resist the urge to kick him under the table, opting instead to glare daggers at him, your expression screaming ‘What in the absolute fuck are you doing?’

Johnny, the absolute menace, doesn’t react beyond the occasional brief glance in your direction, his smirk lingering like he’s enjoying this way too much.

Meanwhile, Pa’s none the wiser, still going on about how baseball’s gone soft over the years. And you’re stuck sitting there, silently fuming, trapped in a footsie war like you’re in grade school.

Dinner winds down, the conversation between Johnny and Pa finally tapering off. Johnny, mercifully, lets up with the footsie nonsense, though not before giving one last, slow brush of his ankle against yours—like a final, smug little victory lap. You pointedly ignore it, pretending not to notice, even as heat creeps up the back of your neck.

Eventually, Pa calls it a night. He pushes back from the table with a tired groan, muttering about how he’s “too damn old to be up this late,” before shuffling off toward the stairs.

You listen to his slow, steady footsteps as he heads up to his room, waiting for the familiar click of his door shutting. And then—you’re alone.

Johnny lingers in the kitchen, standing near the island, hovering. He looks out of place for the first time since he showed up, like he’s not sure if he should offer to help or just let you do your thing. Instead, he leans against the counter, arms crossing over his chest, his weight shifting from one foot to the other.

It’s awkward—unlike him.

You stack plates, rinsing them under the faucet, letting the warm water fill the quiet. But you can feel him watching you. Not in a weird way—just... observing. Like he’s waiting for something.

And you’re not about to let that something slide.

“So,” you say, voice casual as you scrub a dish, “what was with the footsie?”

Johnny makes a noise in the back of his throat, amused. “Thought ye’d never ask.”

You scoff, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “Seriously?”

His smirk is pure trouble. “Could nae help myself, lass,” he says, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on the countertop. “Ye just looked so serious, sittin’ there all quiet, tryin’ not tae react.” His voice drops just a bit lower, teasing. “Was cute.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest, a traitorous little skip that pisses you off.

Because, genuinely, what the hell? Sure he’s probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, and potentially your exact type to a T, but you’ve only known this man for a day. There’s no way you could be that desperate, no way you’re already feeling anything. Right?

The thought alone makes irritation creep up your spine. You shut the faucet off with a little more force than necessary, turning away from the dishes completely so you can fully face him.

“What are you playing at?” The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. You fold your arms, leveling him with a look. “Are you actually here to work? Or are you just here to freeload an-”

Johnny pushes himself off the counter, not playing around. He stands up straight, tall, and present. And when he looks at you this time, there’s nothing cheeky about it.

“I’m here tae work,” he says, steady, certain. “Ye need help, and I can handle it. Tha’s why I’m here.”

His smile returns, but it’s softer this time. Honest. He lifts a shoulder in a slow, lazy shrug, his voice dropping. “But you’re gorgeous, and there’s no denyin’ that. Just sayin’.”

Your brain stalls. Stops working entirely. There could very well be steam coming out of your scalp.

He moves beside you, completely unfazed, grabbing a towel like it’s the most natural thing in the world and starting to dry the dishes you had already washed. Meanwhile, you just stand there, staring where he was just standing, still feeling the heat of his gaze on your skin.

You’re in trouble.

[buttercandy16]

Asylum

Chapter Two: The Fire Inside

PAIRING(s): Psychiatrist!Agatha Harkness x Patient!Reader x Inmate!Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: Wrongfully imprisoned, Reader becomes the obsession of Agatha, a cunning psychiatrist, and Rio, a fiery inmate. Together, they’ll ensure she’s theirs—forever.

WARNING(s): Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Confinement, Madness, Dubcon, and Betrayal.

A/N: Sorry for writing them short 😅

Chapter 1

The clang of the cafeteria doors echoed loudly in the cavernous hall as the crowd of patients filed in, their shuffling steps blending with the murmur of guards barking half-hearted orders. Every part of the room felt wrong. From the chipped white tiles to the flickering fluorescent lights that made everyone’s skin look pale and sickly, it was designed to strip you of any sense of dignity.

Your tray clattered as you slid it onto the table, lowering yourself into the corner seat you’d claimed the past few days. The stares from other patients were impossible to avoid. Some were blank and distant, their minds a thousand miles away, but others were laser-focused, studying you like a predator waiting for its moment to pounce.

Rio Vidal was one of those predators.

You had noticed her the first day you’d been herded into the cafeteria. How could you not? She moved like a force of nature, every step deliberate, every sway of her hips radiating confidence. Her olive skin and piercing eyes—blazing with some barely-contained energy—set her apart from the broken shells of the other patients.

She was dangerous. You didn’t need her record to know that. The way she smiled, sharp and slow like a blade sliding into its sheath, told you everything you needed to know.

“Nice seat,” her voice drawled, rich and melodic, as she sank into the chair across from you without waiting for an invitation.

Your gaze snapped to hers, the food on your tray forgotten. Her smile widened, like she could feel the nerves prickling under your skin.

“I don’t—” you began, but the words faltered under her intense scrutiny.

“You don’t what?” she pressed, resting her chin in her hand as if she were utterly captivated by you. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something taut and alert about her, like a tiger lounging just before the kill.

“I—nothing,” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on your food. You stabbed at a piece of gray meat, hoping she’d grow bored and move on.

Instead, she leaned closer, the metallic scent of the room replaced momentarily by the faint, earthy spice of her perfume. “I’ve seen you,” she said softly, almost like a confession. “All quiet. Trying not to be noticed.” Her grin widened. “Doesn’t work on me, though. I notice everything.”

Your breath hitched, the chill in the air replaced with the suffocating weight of her presence.

“I’m Rio,” she offered, her hand sliding across the table toward yours.

You didn’t move to shake it, but she didn’t seem offended. If anything, she seemed amused, her eyes glittering with challenge.

“I didn’t ask,” you managed, though the words felt weak, your defiance like a candle trying to burn against a storm.

Rio laughed then—a throaty, melodic sound that should have been beautiful but sent shivers racing down your spine. “Oh, I like you already,” she purred, pulling her hand back but not her attention.

For the rest of the meal, she sat across from you, her gaze heavy and unrelenting, even as you pretended not to notice.

Later That Day

The courtyard offered little relief. Enclosed by tall concrete walls topped with razor wire, it felt less like an open space and more like a cage. Still, it was a break from the sterile walls of the asylum, and the pale sunlight brushing your face almost made the frostbite of Rio’s attention worth enduring.

The few patients brave enough to venture into the yard that afternoon kept to themselves, pacing the perimeter or sitting in isolated clusters. You found a quiet corner near one of the dead trees and sat with your knees drawn to your chest.

For a moment, you let yourself believe you were alone. But then you heard her voice.

“Found you.”

Rio’s shadow fell over you as she leaned against the wall beside you, casually twirling a cigarette between her fingers.

“There’s nothing to smoke here,” you said before you could stop yourself, glancing up at her.

She smirked. “Doesn’t mean I can’t pretend.”

Her gaze lingered on you, her weight shifting as she crouched down to your level. Her knees brushed against yours, the casual touch igniting a spark of unease in your chest.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said softly. “Makes me wonder if you’re scared of me.”

Your lips parted, but you had no answer. Were you scared of her? The logical part of your brain screamed yes, but there was something more than fear bubbling in your chest—a strange, reluctant curiosity.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you finally said, though your voice wavered.

Rio’s lips curved into a grin. “Liar.”

Before you could reply, the sharp click of heels interrupted the moment, each step crisp and commanding. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—Dr. Harkness’s presence was unmistakable.

“Ms. Vidal,” Agatha said, her tone smooth yet laced with warning. “Shouldn’t you be in session?”

Rio didn’t flinch, standing and slipping her cigarette into her pocket. “You mean the one you canceled, Doc? That’s on you.”

Agatha’s expression didn’t shift, though her eyes narrowed faintly. “Take a walk. Now.”

Rio held your gaze for another second before shrugging and flashing you a wink. “See you later, querida.”

As she strode away, her footsteps blending with the whispers of the other patients, Agatha stepped closer, her shadow falling over you now.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice softer than before.

You nodded hesitantly, but the way her gaze lingered on your face made it clear she wasn’t convinced.

“Ms. Vidal has...a tendency to latch on to people,” Agatha murmured, her fingers lightly brushing your shoulder. “If she’s troubling you, I need you to tell me. Immediately.”

You looked away, her touch sending a chill down your arm despite its gentleness. “I’m fine,” you said, though you weren’t sure if it was true.

Agatha knelt, lowering herself to your level. Her eyes searched yours, their steel-blue intensity burning with something indecipherable. “You’re not alone here, [Your Name],” she said quietly. “No matter what you may think.”

Her words sounded kind, but the undertone—calm yet undeniably possessive—made your stomach twist.

_-_-_

Please don't forget to vote, reblog, and tell me what's on your mind in the comments 💚

[highway-143]

in the dark- nishimura riki

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut, vampire au

pairing: vampire!riki x fem. villager!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, blood, (duh) biting, (duh) general gore, arranged marriage, masturbation, somnophilia, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, mean dom riki, cowgirl, subbier riki, breeding kink, oral, (f. rec) the line of consent is grey at first (ToT) it gets better trust

synopsis: riki, a mysterious stranger, suddenly appears in your town. nobody knows where he comes from or what he's doing there. but he does. he knows exactly what is going to happen. he needs fresh blood.

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @vrusha01 @minkilicious @planetmarlowe (TAGLIST IS OPEN!)

word count: 8.8k

song: bite me, still monster, and given-taken- enhypen

a.n- so i felt the urge to write a vampire au bc ive been binging all the enha mvs, and given-taken and bite me rlly made me think "damn, i havent tried this before!" so here we are.... lmk if yall wanna see more vampire au oneshots or longer (lmao as long as i can write, i need work) fics :D

(proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to harm any idol in the story

------</3------

it had been weeks.

not really. it was two days.

two days of the most antagonizing pain riki had ever felt in his life.

he couldn't control anything. his constant thirst for blood, to the point where he was practically starving without it was absolutely horrid.

but his rut was so much worse.

vampires only went through one every four years, and the last time riki had one, he had a partner to cure the ache. but now there was no one.

his old village had burned, down to the very last weed. and everyone had ran. families gathered their children and fled, trekking to another kingdom.

and riki was left alone. he had taken a short trip to the sea to get away from the rising suspicion that the town was beginning to place on him.

he came back to ashes.

his mate had left with her family, leaving him without so much as a note.

so riki left. the village held no more meaning to him anymore. he started his journey, hiking through snow-capped mountians and flower filled valleys to another village.

one that was perfectly thriving. from where he stood on a hill surrounding the quaint town, he could see everyone going about their business.

farmers were sowing their crops, merchants were flaunting their goods for sales, and he could just barely make out the sound of metal on metal coming from the blacksmith's workshop.

and so riki started building. it wasn't his strong suit, but he wasn't a terrible craftsman. he had enough supplies to build a small home, a square room with a bed tucked in the corner, a table and chair opposite it, and a round basin on a counter.

it wasn't much, but it was his home. for now.

he got a job as a farmer, raising the herds of sheep, pigs, cows, and a flock of unruly chickens that didn't take a liking to him.

nobody really knew riki. he spent most of his days in the fields, sometimes swinging an axe at trees or tending to the crops. when he wasn't working, he was at home. his house on the hill rarely visited by villagers.

and that's where he was now, laying on his bed. his back arched as a pathetic moan slipped from his lips. his hand was fisted around his hard cock, pumping swiftly, the throbbing slowly subsiding as he jerked himself off.

this was what his rut did to him. he couldn't fucking see straight when it happened. every attempt to play the normal (or as normal as an isolated man could be) villager was too hard. he constantly had to take breaks at work to relieve himself of an erection, his pants strained to the point of tearing.

when riki finally came, hot liquid spurting from his softened member, he started to think.

he had a few options. one, he could keep his act up and potentially be discovered. (the amount of raw meat he was buying was suspicious, even under the guise of his "all meat diet")

two, he could find a mate. he was too new to the town, too secluded in his house on the hill. nobody would trust him farther than they could throw him.

three, he could take a trip. maybe hike into the woods, lay low for a few weeks, feast on foxes and deer for his blood intake.

three was the best option. it was the only option at this point.

riki started packing his belongings into his satchel. some extra clothes, flint and steel, a knife, bread, and blankets. he rolled up a small burlap tent and strapped it to the bag, locking the door and walking into the forest.

a few hours later, he finds himself at a waterfall, the flow into a pond providing a peaceful enviornment, but also a good place to set up a camp.

riki got to work, pitching the tent next to the pond. he gathers rocks and branches, creating a ring with the stones for a firepit.

and again, his hunger overcame him.

riki's eyes slowly shifted, the chocolate colored irises tinted with a reddish hue. his incisors stang with need, gums tingling at the root.

he needed blood.

as the sun set, riki began to stalk. he used the shadows of trees to his advantage, his vampire instincts telling him what to do. where to go.

a rabbit hopped to a rock by the pond, finding its perch on the slippery surface. riki crept behind it, his feet making almost no noise against the fallen twigs and plants.

the rabbit dipped its head closer to the water, preparing to take a sip until-

squeak

riki's hand shot out, grabbing the creature by the neck. he squeezed, the rabbit thrashing in his grip.

and then it went limp.

dead.

riki licked his lips and bit the animal in its side, finally getting a taste of blood.

but it wasn't as good as human blood.

nothing could beat its sweet, coppery taste. the slight burn as it poured down his throat. riki imagines the rabbit to be a human, the blood tasting a little better in his imagination.

the games had only just begun.

------</3------

"y/n! come here, there's someone here to visit you!"

you slowly walk down the stairs, closing the door of your bedroom behind you as you mother calls you from the living room.

"hello, y/n. it's good to see you." says dongmin. his voice is bland, like he has nothing of real importance to say, just words being forced out of his mouth.

dongmin was another villager. he lived on the opposite side of town, closer to the mountians that surrounded the valley than most. his family was well known, his father was the butcher, mother the best seamstress in town.

but dongmin was, to put it bluntly, a fool. he skipped school frequently, choosing to spend the day with his other delinquent friends, exploring the forest or mountians. he was a frequent troublemaker in the town, pulling stunts that any self respecting man wouldn't dare to try.

"dongmin was hoping you would accompany him on an evening stroll tonight, how does that sound?" says your mother, giving you a look that said "if you have any idea what's good for you, you'll go."

you sigh and turn your head to dongmin, nodding. "yes, i would be happy to join you. give me a moment to grab my things."

dongmin frowns and stands up, waiting by the door as you climb the stairs to your room.

when you come back down, your scarf wrapped around your shoulders and your hands wrapped in lace gloves, dongmin holds his arm out. you hook yours around his and he guides you out of your home.

"so, dongmin. what's all this about?"

he sighs and shakes his head. "my parents said it was about time i find a woman to marry."

you stare up at him in shock. sure, dongmin was a handsome boy. he had sharp features and a strong body that was only accented by his fitted clothing, courtesy of his mother, but you couldn't imagine yourself attatched to such a brute of a man.

"and you chose me?"

"do you really think i would choose you?" he asks, laughing sarcastically. "my parents chose you because you're the mayor's daughter. i don't want some prissy socialite princess. i don't even want a wife yet." he shakes his head again. "but i don't really care. i'll just marry you to please them."

you laugh incredulously. "so, let me get this straight" you say, hand tightening around dongmin's bicep. "you're only going to marry me because it's convenient. did you ever stop to think i don't want to marry you? that i have choices too? or did you perhaps think that every woman just pines after you?"

dongmin pauses, his steps halted at your bold words. "yeah, pretty much."

you pull your hand off of his arm and push him, hands splayed against his chest as you heave with all the force you have in your body.

dongmin stumbles back, staring at you in shock.

"oh you messed up, princess." he says darkly, his eyes turning into something meaner.

dongmin reaches out and grabs you by the arm, bruising your skin as he pulls you with him. you beat your free arm against his hand, trying to pry yourself out of his grasp while he drags you toward your home.

"let go! let go of me you filthy bastard!" you scream, only earning a tighter grip and a glare from dongmin.

"who's the bastard here? me or the little bitch who won't do as her family wishes?"

you furiously dig your heels into the dirt road, trying to stop dongmin, but he only pulls you harder, tugging you towards your front door.

your mom opens it, looking confused at the screaming.

"what on earth is going on?"

"he-"

dongmin cuts you off. "your daughter is refusing to marry me. i suggest you talk some sense into her, or else my parents won't keep up their end of the deal with you."

"y/n! what in the world has gotten into you!? apologise to dongmin right now!"

you bite back snarky comments and mutter "sorry."

"give her a few days to think. i promise you she will have an answer soon." your mom says, patting dongmin's arm in the exact spot where you were just hitting him.

"fine." dongmin turns and walks back down the road, not giving you a second glance.

after a long scolding from your mother, you find yourself locked in your bedroom, instructed to not come out until you agreed to marriage with dongmin.

the evening glow cast shadows around your room, figures appearing on your walls that once scared you as a child.

but the meadow outside your window was beautiful. lit with the same glow, the sunlight cast golden light onto the scattered daisies and dandelions. the grass waved in the wind, bringing the scent of spring to your nose as you gazed out at the pretty scene.

without even thinking you begin to climb. you lower one boot-clad foot out of the window, eventually swinging the other out to sit on the edge.

it was dangerous, but you didn't care. the beauty of the meadow was calling to you, your room was growing more and more suffocating by the minute.

so you jumped. right off the second story window.

thankfully, there were a few hay bales there to break your fall, but it still didn't feel good. your dress caught on a few reeds and you had to pause to untagle them.

you grab a lantern from the hook by the front door and run, racing through the meadow, past a small home on the hill, and into the forest.

------</3------

riki groans into the frigid night air, his hands working at his cock so fast, the skin was turning red.

he pumped erratically at his hard member, trying to calm the incessant throbbing that seemed to follow him all day.

he didn't wear clothes anymore. it didn't matter here, and it made everything easier anyways. whenever he got hard, he didn't have to fumble with his pants or catch his shaking fingers on his shirt.

he let a loud moan escape his lips, his hips stuttering against his hand as his load of cum poured onto his hands, his thighs, and then the ground, soaking the soil below him.

and then he freezes.

because he hears a voice.

"hello?" you call, seeing the faint glow of embers illuminating a tent near the pond.

you were a frequent visitor to the area, the calming beauty of the flowers near the water's edge providing solace when your parents were too infuriating.

you hear scrambling coming from the tent, and it rustles as a figure appears, coming out of the tent and into the glow of your lantern.

"what are you doing here?" asks the tall man standing in front of you.

and you gasp, averting your gaze.

because he was naked.

"i... uhhh.... i just..."

the stranger smirks, stepping closer to you. you try your hardest to look in any direction but his, try to pretend you dont see anything.

but you cant help it.

the way his chest is so perfectly sculpted, abs shadowed in the glow of your light. his shoulders taper to his waist, the slope so effortlessly smooth.

and then his hips lead to-

your eyes snap up to his face, stopping yourself from looking at his cum-soaked dick.

and god, his face.

his hair fell around his ears, not long, but enough to where it was unruly and slightly tangled. his eyes were like a crystal ball, his dark gaze piercing your eyes, a faint reddish hue to their color in the dim lights. his nose was perfectly angled, casting a shadow over his high cheekbones, and his lips were so beautifully full.

his grin widens maliciously. "what are you doing here, sweetheart?"

"i... i came to get away. to relax." you manage to say.

"relax? so late at night?"

"yeah." you walk over to the pond, taking a seat on a rock. "why are you here??"

he struts over to you, taking a seat on the ground below you, legs spread provocatively.

"i came to get away too. needed a break from everyo-"

you cut him off, unable to focus on his words while he sat so sexily.

"excuse me, can you... cover up? it's a little uncomfortable."

"what's wrong, sweetheart? never seen a naked man before?" he laughs at the blush that spreads across your cheeks.

"please."

he stands and walks to the tent, leaving you to wave your fingers through the cool water of the pond.

riki pulls on his trousers, debating his next move. he should gain your trust, become your friend. but the temptation to feast on your blood, to fuck you senseless, to break you, was too great.

he needed something, anything, to get him through this rut. and having such a pretty little meal like you would be the perfect way to solve his problem.

riki climbed back out of the tent, his pants fastened around his waist now. but there was still a bulge in the fabric.

"as i was saying," he starts, startling you from the trance the water had you under. "i came out to take a break. people can be too much, you know?"

you laugh bitterly. "yeah."

"what's your name?" he asks.

"y/n. yours?"

"riki. nice to meet you. what happened to you? why are you running so late at night?"

you shake your head. "my parents want me to marry a complete retard of a man. they locked me in my room. i had to get out."

"fair," says riki, nodding his head and pursing his lips. "i get that."

"do you mind if i stay here tonight? there's a cave behind the waterfall that i have some blankets and stuff stored in."

riki looks at you in surprise. "really?" he asks.

"yeah."

he laughs and walks back to his tent. "be my guest."

you wait for him to go back into the tent before preparing to go to the cave. the pond surrounded the waterfall, so the only way to get into it was to swim in. you had done it plenty of times before.

but riki wasn't there any of those times.

no one was.

so when you begin to remove your dress, unbuttoning the front until it slid from your shoulders, unlacing your corset, and pulling off your undergarments, you feel exposed.

you've never felt so vulnerable. riki stayed in the tent, but knowing he was only mere inches away sent a thrill through your body.

you dive into the pond, the icy water sending a much needed shock into your system. when you reach the waterfall, you duck under and pull yourself up on the rocks hidden behind it, climbing into the spacious cave.

the box of blankets and food that you had brought in were still there, untouched. you pull a blanket around your shoulders and huddle against a smooth patch of rocks, the sound of the waterfall helping you relax as you drifted off to sleep.

------</3------

riki crawls out of the tent, the light of morning sending a glow through the little grotto. he starts another fire, and gets up to find his prey once more.

but then he stops.

because your clothes, all of them, are sitting right there. right by where he slept only minutes ago.

he groans at the thought of you, somewhere behind that waterfall, naked. completely vulnerable to him. unable to call for help.

unable to run away.

he picks up your corset, feeling the soft leather bend in his hands, tracing the line of where your breasts once rested.

then he snatches your undergarments, the lace panties so delicate, so you.

and riki brings them to his nose, sniffing the fabric, smelling you.

his hand immediately travels to his bare dick as he inhales your scent, fingers sliding around his hard member, hips thrusting into his hand.

damn, he wishes it was you. wishes it was your little hole he was pounding into, ripping apart.

so he does the next best thing. he wraps your panties around his cock, the cloth burning it as he thrusted into it.

and when he finally came, he let it gather in your panties, the garment catching his thick release, sure enough to stain it.

riki groans and tosses the spent material to the ground, along with the rest of your clothes, as he starts to hunt.

today's victim was a fox, the unsuspecting animal meeting the same fate as the rabbit, and many others before it. riki sinks his teeth into the dead body, drinking his fill of it's blood.

and wishing it was yours.

------</3------

riki makes his way back to the camp, hoping to find you awake.

but he is disappointed. your clothes are exactly where he left them, and nothing looks touched.

that's when he has an idea.

he picks up all of your belongings, carrying them to a fallen tree, the leaves providing a hiding spot for the bundle of fabric that riki held.

the perfect way to keep you vulnerable.

riki chuckled to himself and went back to his tent, waiting for you to come out.

and his wait was not in vain, because only minutes later, he heard a splash that could only be you hitting the pond.

he climbed out of the tent, faking sleepiness as he went to the fire, pretending not to notice you swimming under the water.

you surfaced near the rocks, gasping for air as you climbed out, pushing the hair away from your face.

and when you catch riki staring, you let a shriek sound through the woods.

riki just laughs, watching as you desperately try to hide your bare body from his gaze.

"where are my clothes!?" you say, practically yelling.

riki plays dumb. "what clothes?"

"the clothes i was wearing yesterday," you run over to the tent, crawling in and giving riki a splendid but infuriating view of your ass as you grab the quilt and wrap it around your chest. "the clothes i left right there."

"i never saw any clothes," riki lies. "maybe an animal took them?"

"yeah..." you say, irritated. "how the hell am i getting home now?"

you sit on the rocks, watching the waterfall, not even noticing as riki stands up and goes to the tent.

he comes back over to you, clearing his throat to get your attention.

you look over at him, and see him handing you a shirt.

"thanks." you say, smiling up at him.

"sure."

riki smirks to himself as he heads back to the fire. he has your trust. it was too easy.

he can't help but adjust himself in his pants as you sit by him at the fire, his shirt hanging just below your ass, and your nipples peaking against the thin blouse. fucking sexy.

his breaking point was when you turned to him, starting to ask a question.

you never got to finish.

because riki cut you off by tackling you to the ground, pinning your arms to your sides as he sat on your legs.

"riki, what the hell are you doing!?" you scream, twisting your body in a desperate attempt to get out of his grasp.

he remains silent, bending down to press a soft kiss to your neck, sucking on your skin.

you moan in pleasure, and riki laughs, his smile pressing against you.

"what are you doing?" you repeat, this time less urgently.

"what i wanted to do last night, sweetheart"

and then he bites.

you scream in pain as his teeth pierce your skin, the sensitiveness of your neck not aiding in how much the bite had hurt. you feel his tounge stretch out to suck the puncture, sucking on the warm liquid pooling out of you until you began to feel lightheaded.

and then everything went black.

------</3------

you wake to the feeling of water on your face.

not just water, rain. the trees above you provided minimal cover from the droplets that were falling from the sky faster and faster.

you roll over, and immediately throw up, your gut heaving as you emptied your stomach. your ribs ached as you lay back down, acepting the splashes of rain on your face as you recover.

what happened last night?

your hand trails up your uncovered body, trying to find where that stinging sensation was coming from.

riki.

he bit you. he drank your blood.

what was he?

you sit up, head spinning. your body feels so sore, especially between your legs. your thighs hurt with a pain you had never experienced before, your cunt feeling stretched and... used.

did he... there was no way.

you storm to riki's tent, finding him laying back on the quilt.

"afternoon, sweetheart. you slept all day." he smirks up at you, hands resting behind his head.

"what did you do to me!?" you scream, not caring how both of you were naked. that was the least of your worries.

"what do you mean?" says riki, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"you know what you did, you fucking pervert!" you grab the end of the quilt and drag riki out into the rain, his smirk never ceasing even when the water soaks his face.

"yeah, i do. and it was worth it."

you scoff and kick his leg, making him laugh. "you know, you were pretty tight while you were asleep. it felt so fucking good. but next time, i want to hear your screams as you beg for me to ruin you."

"you must be stupid if you think there will be a second time."

riki stands up, hair soaked from the rain now. "there will be a next time," he growls, grabbing your chin with his hand. "you know why? because you're mine. all fucking mine." he leans down to press his lips to your ear, making you shiver at the touch. "and you know you want it. don't fucking lie, sweetheart. you love the ache between your legs, you want more. am i wrong?"

you whimper as his hand grips your waist, holding onto you like you would run away.

you should've ran.

but you couldn't.

riki pulls you against him, and you give a halfhearted fight, not willing to admit that the way his cock pressed between you was glorious.

he tilts your chin up to look at him, and then his lips crash onto yours.

the rain continued pouring, now in torrents as you and riki embrace, lips locked in a passionate dance fuled by anger and need.

riki nips at your lip, pulling at it as he moves away.

"where are you..."

he answers you with a jump into the pond, and you follow him, joining him as he swims for the cave. the rain pattered against the rippling surface of the water, riki's strokes creating waves through the pool.

when you had reached the dark room, riki was on top of you again. his lips trailed over your jaw, working their way down to the curve of your collarbone.

and you moan when he presses his hands against your chest, neading your breasts as his lips trailed firey kisses around your neck.

he paused at a particularly sweet spot below your ear, licking and nipping at your skin.

and then he bit you.

again.

the burning pain had your body writhing in riki's grasp, your hands clenching on his biceps as he dug his fangs into you, taking more of your blood.

but he held back. enough so you wouldn't pass out. so you would stay awake while he fucked you.

you whimper when he pulls his teeth out, the two puncture wounds leaking blood. your head spun from the feeling of riki's hands on you, mingled with the loss of blood. everything was too much.

riki's dick rubs against your stomach, and he starts grinding against you, slipping a thigh between your legs to apply a small amount of pressure to your cunt.

you groan at the feel of him, the impossible hardness of his cock grazing your skin was heaven.

"feel that, sweetheart?" he moans, his grinds against your pelvis never ceasing. "feel what you fucking do to me? damn slut, walking around like that. you deserve this, yeah?"

your only response was his name, called out like a plea.

because it was. it was a plea for him to destroy you.

riki pushes you to the ground, forcing your knees to the cold stone. he bends over you, settling between your spread legs.

"little whore. so fucking needy," he groans, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder harshly, like it was a sack of potatoes.

"riki... please!" you whine, tugging at his shoulders.

he smirks again. "begging now, sweetheart? please what? please let me go, riki? or maybe please fuck me, riki. please fill me up like the good little cumdump i am." he mocks you, giving your thigh a slap.

"ah- riki, please... please fuck me!" you groan as riki's thumb presses against your clit, rubbing your tender nub as he chuckled.

"new it. fucking knew it. such a little slut, begging for a vampire to fuck her. such a needy little baby." his fingers leave your clit, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. riki slaps your thigh again, causing tears to well up in your stinging eyes. "you take what i give you, slut. don't whine to me when i'm about to give you my fucking cock."

riki lines his dick with your entrance, and shoves in, not giving you any warning before he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing cunt.

"ah, so tight. tighter when you're awake, shit..." he starts thrusting into you, his cock easily sliding in and out of your wet pussy as he pounds into you.

a tear falls down your cheek, and the sobs follow, painting your face like the rain falling outside. riki's cock buried into you, hitting so deep you jerked at every thrust.

"crying, huh? what does a little whore like you have to cry about? fucking begged for my dick, now take it." riki thrusts harder, the sounds of his wet skin against yours echoing through the cave. everything sounded so loud.

when riki sensed your orgasm approaching, he pulled out, keeping you on the brink of release.

"riki! please... i need..." you grasp for his arms, hips scooting towards him, trying to push his dick back into your needy hole.

"aw, sweetheart, what do you want?"

"wanna cum! please!" the desperation is etched across your face as riki laughs at you.

"you cum when i cum, slut."

you whine as riki pushes back in, his cock filling you so perfectly. exactly how it was supposed to.

when riki finally started feeling his orgasm approaching, he let a loud moan rip from his swollen lips, filling the cave. "want to cum, sweetheart?"

you nod wildly, words failing you as you cried.

"ah.. gonna fucking fill you with my babies, yeah? gonna send you back all filled with me, carrying my kids.... gonna be a mommy, yeah?"

"yes, riki... please, please give me your babies..."

his hips smack against you one final time before his seed spills into you, filling you up while you shook around his cock, clenching around him.

"god, y/n... fucking perfect... my sweetheart," riki smiles and collapses over you, his dick buried deep inside of you, keeping his cum in you for as long as possible.

"riki," you whisper, afraid.

"what?"

"y-you're a vampire?"

"you thought i bite people for fun?" he flashes his sharp canines at you, a little grin gracing his full lips. "yeah."

you stare at him in fear. "what does that mean?"

"well technically, i'm half vampire. i can live normally most of the time, i can go in the sun and stuff, but i do have the ruts and i need blood every once and a while."

your brain expands, taking in all the impossible information he was giving you. "so... when is it over?"

"'bout two more weeks. that's why i came out here. it was easier."

"hmm...."

riki's hand grips yours, and you fall asleep next to him, the cool cave calming your heated bodies.

------<3------

"i need to go back now," you say to riki, his eyes filled with sleep and hunger from you waking him so early.

"mhmm..." he groans, grabbing a stick to toss in the fire.

"people will wonder... it's been a whole day."

he nods and frowns. "why can't you stay out here?"

"riki, my family will worry. if they haven't already started to. and i will come back for you, i promise."

"swear on the moon."

"the moon?" you look over at him, confused.

"a vampire thing. it's like swearing that you will uphold your promise no matter what, like the moon is always there no matter what. it's there even during the day, always watching."

you laugh and comply. "i swear on the moon."

but as riki watches you go, wearing nothing but the shirt he had given you and carrying your lantern, he couldn't help but worry.

because what if you didn't keep your promise?

------<3------

everything was quiet.

it was creepy, the way the town was so lonely and cold during the first hours of dawn. a faint glow came from the horizon, turning the sky a lighter shade of blue where the sun would soon rise.

you dart down to your house, climbing up the wall and into your room, shutting the curtians quietly.

the whole house was quiet, the sounds of your parent's and sibling's snoring coming from their rooms.

you silently tug off riki's shirt, the flowy material soft in your hands as you stares at it with teary eyes. you stow it inside your pillow, hiding it from your family.

you slip into a nightgown and climb into bed, tugging the covers over your shoulders and feigning sleep when you hear footsteps outside your door.

your mom knocks against the wood, and you pretend to stir from sleep. "what?" you call, rustling in your bed.

"let me in." she says, voice flat.

you stand and open the door, and your mom barges into your room.

"i know you haven't decided yet," she starts, "but it doesn't matter anymore. you will marry dongmin, you will uphold the family name, understood?"

your protests were futile. your mom cuts you off at every attempt to argue that you wouldn't marry dongmin.

you couldn't.

not when riki was in the forest, waiting for you. needing you.

and you needed him. needed the escape he offered, needed his dominance to ground yourself in the mess that was your life.

your mom leaves the room, leaving you a fit of tears, your hand caressing the marks riki had left on your neck.

you wouldn't marry dongmin.

------<3------

now that you were being forced into marriage, you were out of your room. all day, in fact. you were dragged around town by your mother, preparing for the wedding.

four days. that's how much time you had to find a way out.

you could run, but you didn't know how to survive in the wild for a long time, and you had never been farther out of the valley than the waterfall.

you could camp there, but it was close enough to the town that search parties would look for you there.

so your best bet was to destroy the arrangement from the inside. but you couldn't figure out how.

after a long day of delivering invitations, you collapse on your bed. everything was too much.

you needed riki.

so you pull on his shirt, grabbing a pair of working pants from your older brother's wardrobe and pulling them on.

you hike past the house on the hill and into the forest, lamp in hand, anticipation swirling in your veins.

------<3------

riki sighs, his arms floading at the surface of the pond. it was relaxing, really. the way the water clung to his body, cooling the heat that had been there all day.

his head snaps up as he hears the rustle of leaves. perhaps a deer, coming to drink from the pond, a perfect meal.

but it wasnt a deer, it was you.

riki groaned at the sight of you, hair loose and flowing down your shoulders, his shirt clinging to you with sweat.

and you weren't wearing anything under it.

your breasts rubbed against the fabric, nipples showing behind the thin material. so provocative.

so beautiful.

you sit at the water's edge, leaning forward to look at riki, a look of uncertianty painted across his face.

"i promised," you say, grinning as riki swims closer to you.

"yeah, you did." he breathes across your face, sweeping your lips into a tender kiss. "i knew you would, little whore. my whore"

you moan into his lips, his tounge swiping across your mouth, then barging in, prying your jaw apart as he tasted you, swirled his tounge around yours.

you reciprocated, tounge caressing his fangs, eliciting a strangled sound from riki's throat.

"don't fucking do that," he says, gripping your arm. "i can't take it... shit"

you look up at him, eyes big and sweet. "riki, let me help you," you whisper, the words charged with something bigger than the both of you could possibly imagine. "let me take care of you."

riki moans and tugs you into the pond, moving towards the cave.

you wade into the water, still clothed as riki guides you under the waterfall and lifts you into the darkness.

he sits down, pulling you into his lap and resting his back against the cavern wall. his hands slide under the band of your wet pants, pushing them down your legs gently.

you rub your hands over his bare chest, massaging his taut muscles as he kisses you, teeth digging into your bottom lip. every noise was amplified in the cave, every shift heightened in the darkness, the waterfall covering most of the sound.

riki whimpers against your mouth, gripping your hips as you rolled them against his hard cock. his senses were hightened in the damp cave, the cool rocks on his skin grounding him as his dick throbbed for you.

"please-" he moans, biting your lip. he couldn't think straight, he was lost in you. lost in you scent, your body, everything.

you grip his cock, earning a few supressed noises from riki as you lined him with your entrance, slowly taking all of him in, sitting on his lap fully.

"ah- sweetheart... fucking hell, you can't do this to me." his lips trail from your lips to your neck, licking at the spots where he had bit you before, nursing the red scars.

you whimper and start rolling your hips, riki tensing below you, his hands bruising your waist through his thin blouse as he held on to you for dear life.

his pitiful wimpers fill the cave, his pelvis jerking as you fucked him, riding him to the brink of losing his mind.

"ah-ah... sweetheart, please... please, fuck, i can't" he digs his head into the curve of your shoulder, you could feel the wetnes of his hair fall down your back as you rode him harder, thighs burning.

you squeeze riki's arms, almost close to your release. "cum for me, riki... please"

he goans and spills into your slick cunt, his cum painting your walls white as you shiddered around him. his teeth dug into your shoulder, but the pain was less noticeable while you rode out your high. he lapped at your wound like a hungry beast.

because he was. he was a hungry vampire with a thirst for blood.

------<3------

riki holds you close, his arm wrapped around you as you sit against the cave wall together. his hand threaded through your messy hair, stroking your head. the sensation was absolutely wonderful, his long arms holing you close.

like somebody cared for you. about you.

"what's happening with the marriage?" he asks, carefully treading the sensitive topic.

you sigh and curl against him, tracing your fingers over the outline of his abs. "well, there's no way out. they're forcing me to marry dongmin."

"dongmin? you mean the butcher's son?" asks riki, looking down at you.

"yeah, why?"

riki laughs and shakes his head. "that little douchebag wouldn't know what to do with an apple if his parents didn't tell him first."

you chuckle. "yeah. i don't want to marry him though. my parents are adamant about it."

"mhmm..." riki rests his head on yours, the pressure soothing you off to sleep.

------<3------

"lets go, y/n." your mom grips your wrist, pulling you out the front door.

today was the day before the wedding. and everything was wrong. you hadn't seen riki in two days, too tired at the end of the day to hike to the pond. dongmin followed you everywhere, along with your mom. there were eyes on you at all times, even while you slept.

now was time to get your dress. your mom took you to dongmin's mother, mrs. lee's shop, having her fit you for the dress.

the fitting was fairly normal. as normal as a room filled with resentment could be, at least.

when mrs. lee has you take off your dress and stand on a pedestal, she gasps.

the bites.

she saw the bites. the marks riki had left on you, the ones you thought could be hidden by high necked dresses and well placed hair.

but no, now your mother and mrs. lee knew.

"what is that!?" yells your mother, face red in anger.

"what is what?"

mrs. lee shakes her head. "you have bites, dear. what are they from?"

you fake innocence. "i don't know what you're talking about, i haven't seen any bites."

"well dear, they're clear as day. do you have bedbugs perhaps?"

"maybe," you say, nerves shot with fear. "i probably do. but they'll go away."

mrs. lee nods her head, fiddling with scraps of fabric. "it's fine, we'll just have to do a high neck dress."

you bite back a groan, sitting straight while she messed with the dress. your mom glared at you, sending a chill through your body.

------<3------

that night, you climb out your window again.

you had to see riki.

the lantern provides better sight in the haze of dusk. you took some fruit from the basket in the kitchen, slipping a few apples in your pockets as you ran through the field.

the house on the hill was lit, a faint glow coming from the windows, dimmed by red curtians.

you speedwalk past it, trying to go to the forest unnoticed, but a whistle stops you.

your head swivels, searching for the sudden noise. you look towards the house and see riki hanging out the window, smirking at you.

"riki!" you drop the lantern and run to kiss him, hands cupping his jaw.

"hey, sweetheart," he says when you break apart. "i missed you."

"me too." you agree. riki offers you his hand and you climb through the window, sliding into the tiny room.

"i didn't know you lived here," you spin around the room, taking in the place that a vampire called home. "it's cute."

"you know how much i love cute things," says riki, laughing while shaking his head.

"you like me, i'm pretty cute!" you joke, sitting next to him on his bed. he was so obviously hard, his erection showing through the fabric of his trousers. it took all of his strength not to pounce on you, not to fuck your brains out on his bed.

"yeah, i do."

you sit in silence for a heartbeat, words that the two of you left unspoken threatening to show themselves in the candlelight. you had so much to tell riki, and not enough time.

"riki, i-"

"y/n-"

you laugh at the awkward situation, and riki rubs the back of his neck with his hands. "you go" he offers.

"i like you riki. more than i should. i know that all this... physical... stuff was just because of your rut, but i've fallen in love with you. and i feel like i'm drowning and nobody can save me, except for you. the wedding is tomorrow and i don't know how things are going to turn out, but i love you, and i had to tell you before it was too late."

all riki can do is look at you in amusement, his eyebrow raised cunningly.

"i'm in love with you too, y/n. every moment with you feels so right. i feel so comfortable with you, so normal. being a vampire doesn't matter to you, and the fact that you were so willing to help me was what made me realize that this is love. when you talked about the wedding and dongmin... i got so angry. all i want to do is protect you, to help you like you helped me. but i don't know how to do that." he buries his head in his hands, shoulders hunched.

you rub his back, his spine tensing at your soft touch. "its okay, riki... i will find a way to get out of it. i can't marry him... i won't. i swear on the moon i'll find a way."

he leans over to you, pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss, his mouth moving in perfect harmony with yours. he grabs your chin with his hand, pulling your lips harder into his, opening his mouth to you.

you climb onto his lap, straddling him and gripping his shoulders while he deepened the kiss, his hands finding your waist. he kissed you so passionately, promises laced with need as he groaned into your mouth.

promises to keep you safe, to love you as much as he could.

he twisted your bodies, laying you gently against his bed. "sweetheart, i'm gonna try and go slow for you... but i might break... i'll try."

"do whatever you want, i love you."

"fuckkk-" he groans, lips catching yours in another eager kiss.

he slipped his hands under your waistband, pulling your pants and undergarments down your shaking legs. his calloused fingers scraped across your skin sensually, every brush like fire on your already hot skin. he laughs as an apple rolls out, the sentiment sweet.

"let me taste you... please?"

you nodded your head, words unable to form in your mouth. riki worked his way down, spreading your legs wide, arms pinning them down.

"damn... baby, your cunt is so gorgeous..." riki groans as he leans his head down to smell you.

and then his tounge sticks out, giving a tiny lick to your clit, and you spiraled.

everything felt so new, so amazing, that you could barely breathe. every sensation pushed you closer and closer to the brink of collapse. riki moved a hand to your folds, slowly twirling circles around your hole as he sucked on your clit. his fingers gathered your slick, and he shoved them in his mouth, sucking your taste off of his digits.

your legs trembled around his head, his strong arms the only thing keeping them from snapping back around his head. his tounge darted out in precise movements, licking through your folds.

his cock was throbbing now, the pain only made up for by how sweet you tasted. riki unbuckled his pants and pulled them off, rubbing his member with his hand. there was already a pool of precum on the tip, dripping down his length.

he sucked on your clit, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his wet muscle on your cunt. you thrusted your hips up into his face, begging for more.

your hands found their way to his head, threading through his thick, dark hair, pushing him deeper into you.

he laughed against your pussy, the vibrations enough to make your legs twitch violently. his tounge jutted into your hole, sending a harsh moan from your mouth.

"ki... ah- i'm gonna cum, please!" you whined, his tounge swirling inside your pulsing cunt. every sense was heightened as you were pulled closer to release. riki's lips continued their assault on your aching hole, sucking on your swollen folds.

he continued pumping his dick, almost close to cumming himself. "cum on my face, baby" he groaned.

you snapped, the pressure building in your stomach released as you pulsed around his tounge. your legs closed around his head, holding him in place while he lapped up your wetness.

his own relief came as well, his cum flowing from his dick in rivulets, pouring into his hand and onto the floor. riki climbed over you, pushing his cum covered fingers into your mouth.

you groaned around his digits, his salty taste filling your mouth as you licked his fingers clean of his cum.

"fuck," he moaned, taking his hand away. "so beautiful... taste so good"

your hands wrap around him, nails scraping his back as he kissed you again. you could taste yourself on him, and riki could taste his release on you.

everything else seemed to dissapear, it was just you and riki on his bed, loving each other so passionately that the rest of the world was quiet.

but as you were wrapped in riki's arms, the sounds of night echoing outside, you couldn't worry about tomorrow. because all that mattered was that riki was with you now, loving you now.

and you wished it could last forever.

------<3------

you wake to the sound of birds chirping.

the moring light seeped through riki's curtians, painting the room in a hazy red light. his arms were wrapped around your back, hand tracing patterns on your spine.

"morning" he says, smiling with sleepy eyes.

"hey" you reply, leaning up to give him a peck on the lips.

you lay in his embrace, his warmth enveloping you as you started drifting back to sleep.

and then you froze.

you shot up out of bed, eyes wild with fear. "shit, the wedding!"

riki groans, rolling over. "just stay here"

"riki, i can't..."

he frowns, brows furrowed. "yes, you can."

"they're gonna look for me if i don't show up."

you stand up, collecting your clothes from the floor. "i'm sorry, ki. i will find a way out" you slip your pants on. "i swore on the moon, remember?"

riki turns, looking out the window, hiding the tears that were beginning to form in his dark eyes.

you don't notice as a tear falls down his red cheek, his hand sweeping up to collect it quickly. "yeah."

he stands and walks over to you, grabbing your hand. "if you dont find a way, please know that i love you. that someone loves you."

your own tears start to fall, and you pull riki into a hug. "don't say that, ki... we have to keep up hope, please."

another tear escapes his eyes, slipping into your messy hair. a mark of how much he cared for you left unknowingly.

"i know."

------</3------

dongmin stands next to the reverend, his hair styled nicely for the first time in forever. flowers surround the aisle, the field set up for a wedding ceremony.

your legs shake with fear as you walk between the aisles of chairs filled with people you barely knew. your hands trembled around the bouquet of roses that you held, threatening to drop them.

your gaze catches riki's house, only yards away. your eyes well up with tears as you walk towards a life that you didn't want. one you never wanted.

the piano that had been wheeled out plays a hymn that should've brought happiness, but only scared you. the tune of the keys sounded otherworldly as you reach the reverend.

your parents glare at you with knowing eyes, telling you not to mess up without even uttering a word.

the reverend starts speaking, his speech sounding like another language as you stare blankly into dongmin's eyes.

on the hill, riki gazes out his window, watching the ceremony. the words carry on the wind, the reverend's voice reaching his home.

sobs filled his body, his heart feeling like it had been crushed under your foot. he shouldn't have done this. he shouldn't have gotten attached.

but he did. and now you were getting married to somebody that wasn't him.

the tears turn to rage as he watched dongmin start talking, presumably speaking false vows, promises that would undoubtedly be broken.

he snaps, jumping from his bed and racing out of his house, running barefoot down the hill to the venue.

you stare at the reverend as he turns to dongmin. "do you, lee dongmin, take y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"yes."

"and do you, y/n-"

"wait!"

the crowd turns their heads, confusion spread across everyone's faces as they searced for the face of the deep voice that interrupted the ceremony.

riki stands at the end of the aisle, bent over and completely out of breath.

your mom jumps up. "what are you doing?! who are you!?" she shrieks, voice strained.

"i..." riki catches his breath, looking up at your shocked face. "i came to save y/n"

your mom stomps over to him, grabbing his arm. "she doesn't need saving."

he tosses her off with ease, his height an advantage as he walks up to you. "yes, she does. doesn't anyone see how unhappy she is? how much she doesn't want to be here?" he turns back to the crowd. "or are all of you blind? does she look like a bride filled with joy?"

dongmin pulls riki away from you by the shoulder, and riki shoves his hand away. "don't you dare touch me, bastard."

dongmin steps closer to riki, grabbing his wrist. "i do what i want." he whispers. "leave. this has nothing to do with you."

riki doesn't bother to stay quiet. "i won't leave. you know why? because i love y/n. i really love her. and i'm willing to do whatever it takes to get her away from you."

dongmin laughs and shakes his head. he looks down at you, his chest shaking with sarcastic laughter. "what did you do? little whore. probably slept with him, huh?"

you stay quiet, scared. riki stands between you and dongmin, shielding you from him. "so what? it doesn't matter what happened. she doesn't want this, so why are you forcing her?"

dongmin glares at riki. "fine, you can have the little bitch. fucking used anyways."

riki growls and grabs dongmin by his arm, pulling him back and-

crack

the next thing you know, dongmin is curled on the floor, blood pouring from his nose. everyone is scrambling, either to help him or to talk to you, bombarding you with questions and accusations.

riki turns to you amidst all the chaos, wiping blood off of his fist, pulling you close to him. "did i mention you look beautiful?"

you laugh and give him a kiss, turning to find your mother, who was pressing through the crowd to get to you.

"i won't marry him, mother. i love riki. that should be enough for you."

she pauses in her tracks, looking from you to riki, then back at you.

she frowns, but nods her head, a silent acknowledgement of your decision. one she might not be happy about, but can agree to.

as the masses disperse, you walk over to where dongmin was sitting on the grass.

you lean down to him, whispering so only he can hear.

"this is for being a complete asshole"

and you kick him in his soft spot, riki's laugh ringing loud and deep from where he was standing behind you.

------<3------

a.n- oh my lorddddd that was a roller coaster for me.... i cant with vampire riki damn.... also i realized like halfway through its giving disney movie meets dr. quinn vibes help ToT again, if you want to see more vampire aus lmk and the taglist is always open if youd like to join!

as always, comment or reblog if you liked it!

masterlist

[kivino]

MEANT FOR EACH OTHER || ZOMBIE AU || KÖNIG X READER || PART I

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes hold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝ȃ̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

tags. zombie au (twdg inspired), stalking, obsessive behavior, themes of paranoia, fear, distrust, isolation  

w.c. 2.7k

a.n. i had a post about this fic quite some time ago, but only got to finishing this fic right about now. it’s my bad, folks! still, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! let me know your thoughts and like and reblog, please!

|| PART 2 || || PART 3 ||

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

You were not okay. Unstable. Dangerous to the group. That’s what you kept hearing every time you would try to speak up about your worries. “Help your fellow man” your ass. Delusional assholes, all of them, you thought, after having to endure this torture that appeared endless. Constant paranoia eating away at you, piece by piece, making you look over your shoulder more than look straight ahead, forcing your sleep to become so light you’d wake up from the slightest shifts of your companions dosing off in the tents beside yours. Or from the wind rattling the rusted metal sheets on the roof of the abandoned storage house you camped out in. You felt exhausted which was no less shitty than being unheard. Or, rather, straight up ignored.  

It’s been weeks…months of it? You weren’t quite sure anymore. You had trouble tracking the days at this point in time, any disruption turning you into a likeness of a jittery rabbit – head on a swivel, ready to dart at the merest visible sign of this…unknown and incomprehensible danger. So naturally, days blended into nights, and nights would smother themselves in-between the days, and there was no end to it. At times, anything felt as a sign of some foreign, unfamiliar and very unwelcome presence. The whole world ending, shriveling away into a primitive, disconnected and scattered realm of endless violence was bad enough, but then there was something else…You weren’t quite sure what started out this deep terror within you. But you just knew, after bumping into someone’s empty, but clearly frequently used hideout in a dingy, and frankly, nasty motel, nothing has been the same.

Stretches of makeshift barbed wire across all the fences and, in places, even the ground, where the passage wasn’t interrupted by wrecked cars forming a barricade in front of the dark building with the windows boarded up shut. As you approached the place, you swore you could hear a low purr of a generator and smell the fuel, heavy in the air, and thick on your tongue. However, the place, though well protected, seemed to be deserted. Not a sign of a human presence from a quick glance. A lawn chair on the second floor of the motel, right behind a study looking railing with the paint rubbed off in the center, however, threw you off a little bit, as well as the doors, either locked, or boarded up shut from the inside. No bodies, no signs of fight or struggle, very little blood, while the place itself was locked up so tight you’d think a herd of was mere hours away from reaching it. Who’d put so much effort into making this motel a fortress, only to then abandon it, since there were no bodies that would suggest an attack from the walkers, or a raid from a fellow man.

Things clearly didn’t line up and you didn’t like that. Your group, however, didn’t bother with technicalities and nuance. Safe place was a safe place, end of story. Having nothing to offer in terms of resources – apart from a couple of already ransacked vending machines, the motel was quickly moved on from after the group spent the night. Since no one managed to get a single door, but the one leading to the laundry room of the dreary place open, the decision was made to sleep in the tents within the barricaded parking lot. “You’re welcome to freeze your ass off outside the fence, if you’d like, love, I couldn’t give two shits” – grumbled Rory, a woman in her thirties, who was clearly not having your cautious behavior. You were more than sure that she probably had to sleep in places much colder and dangerous than this dirty godforsaken motel, so you let it go. That night was the last night of undisturbed and calm sleep you’ve had before the unrest took hold.

You haven’t told anyone (as if that would change anything, your mind adds with palpable bitterness), but you swore there was something at that motel. Always conveniently just out of the corner of your eye, avoiding you so well you were ready to scream in frustration at the lack of substantial evidence for your suspicions. A giant, hulking shadow, faster than your reaction speed. A suspicious, bright glint from stuffy darkness of a boarded-up window. A loose stretch of a chain-link fence with dull grass crushed underneath. But then, why would it be? Unless it pinned the lifeless blades of greenery to the ground while sliding out (or in) below the fence.  

Of course, without outright noticeable evidence it was just that. It. But you were just scared to admit that this shapeless, inexplicable “It" you kept in your thoughts day and night, waking up and going to bed with an insistent tremble in your chest and shaky hands, was someone. That this “It” would suddenly develop a form, a conscience. Then, a goal. You didn’t like that. Not in the slightest. Frankly, who would like the phantoms that reside in their mind to suddenly become real? Nobody. And definitely not fucking you.

Regardless of your limitless turmoil and anxiety, non-stop coiling within your gut, you had to wake up. Stirring awake in your stuffy, hot tent, you don’t waste any time finding a zipper on the cheap rainproof fabric and dragging it down, to let some (relatively) fresh air inside, letting your lungs enjoy it while it lasts. Your group of seven has already been obviously busy; you can hear some chatter and clacking of pots over the fire in the middle of the camp. Didn’t even wake you up? Odd. You’ll take it though. An extra hour of sleep is better than none.

You shuffle towards the opening in your tent, your hand snaking towards the half-empty backpack, laying on its side right in your reach. Empty-minded, you let your fingers pick at a bunch of zippers and clasps, while rubbing your eyes off the scarce leftover sleep. Your hand, much like a lithe spider finally gets inside the backpack to pull a sweatshirt out, until you hear a clear, almost deafening crunch of plastic in the morning quiet.

You can feel the blood in your veins turn to ice.

The hand snakes deeper inside, trying to get a feel of this plastic package that was definitely not there last night, before you went to sleep. Finally, you fish out multiple packs of ramen from your belongings and you sit there for a moment, in silence that only you can comprehend.

None of your group store their food in their personal backpacks. You included. Nobody went on any supply runs this week. And you definitely don’t remember ever having problems with sleepwalking. Your head finds its way into your hands. There “It” is again. You’re on the verge of hysteria. And even if your try to say something, it’s going to be the same song, all over again.

“You’re overthinking simple things.”

“Maybe you put it there before, but just…forgot about it?”

“What does it matter anyway? You’ve got more food to last you, would you stop being hung up over nothing?”

Same things, same voices, same thoughts. You were sick of it. Utterly and completely.

Finally!

You found it!  König could feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as you took out the gift he so carefully placed in the bag during the night. Sneaking around the other tents, careful with every step, suffocated with anticipation and worry. Now he had the perfect view of you from the shattered roof window of the storage house, which couldn’t have made the moment any better. Setting up this vantage point was his best decision yet…Apart from deciding to trail behind you, tagging along until your useless group members make the slightest mistake that will cost them their life. And then, König will be able to swoop in, finally help you openly, get you to join him (because why wouldn’t you? Your refusal was not even a possibility in his mind). The mere thought sent shivers of excitement down his body, sweet and languid. He couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of peeking out from behind the window once again, tilting his head ever so slightly, so his dark hood is not too visible over the vivid backdrop of the winter sky – off-grey and dull, much like a dirty slush that was this year’s snow, resting in a thick, melting blanket over the dark earth.

His eyes are zeroed in on you, squinting through the bright light penetrating even the dull clouds hanging over the earth and he could just feel the familiar, loving tremble in his chest when he sees you taking out his little surprise from your bag. It would seem that you’re lost for words – clutching your poor little head in your hands, mulling over who it might be from. Or maybe you’re already drowning in despair, deep in the realization that no one from your group can protect you properly, if someone was able to sneak into the camp in the middle of the night. Yes! Yes… König couldn’t have asked for a better reaction.

This…utter distress you were displaying, fanned the flames within him like no other person ever managed to, even before the world has ended. Frankly, anything you did would set off this insistent, lasting spark deep within his chest, burning König up from inside out, until it felt like he was smoldering if his eyes couldn’t catch a glimpse of you for too long. His insides would churn with an unknown, heavy feeling, it almost felt like he was drowning in a bog, being dragged down in the depths of his mind with little to no resistance. Only catching a glimpse of you helped to stop that feeling. So, keeping away just wasn’t an option. Never was. Never will be. And how could it ever be, if even in his restless dreams he searched for you, while every waking thought revolved around you. How determined he was to see his plan through, how desperate for the closer presence of your light in his life, finally being able to bask in it without your disgusting group getting in the way.

König never thought the accidental encounter at the motel he’s been holed up in would end up in him packing up everything he had to follow your useless group. You. You were the first living soul he’s seen up close since the world started falling apart so rapidly. It awakened something he completely forgot about in the months he hasn’t seen any people. The newfound hope.

Your carefree smile near the bonfire first confused him. How can you be happy and laugh the way you did when nothing around you was in its original state – shattered, broken, locked, rotten, spoiled or otherwise; when he the danger was around the corner, lurking just out of reach, ready to pounce and consume the measly, weak remains of humanity any time. Nothing to smile about for him. Despite his initial, less than generous assumption about your mental abilities and level of intelligence, you proved more cautious and careful than any people from your group. Stupid jackasses, satisfied with the surface-level search. How pathetic.

It would be such a pleasure to finally get rid of them. Give them all that they deserved. Every blow, every bite and every scratch. But not from him, sadly. He has to be even more careful, so you don’t have any basis to even assume König had anything to do with their deaths. He’ll…nudge them in the direction of death, but he will not be the deliverer of justice. As much as he wished he could.

Not you, though. Oh, never you. That day, as König peeked from the darkness of the motel room around him, through tiny slits in the dusty curtains that obscured everything behind the wooden boards he hammered in himself, you seemed like you started figuring something out, looking over the spots of the motel he most often frequented. Almost like you could feel or see his presence there, only hours ago.

Carefully, but nonchalantly walking around vending machines, the good spot overlooking the front gate and the parking lot with König’s chair on the second-floor balcony, his sleeping spot on warm nights, in a bed of a pickup truck, and finally, attempting to open the room where the man would sort through the supplies he had. When he was completely shrouded in darkness of said supply room, it felt like you could see right through it, like you caught sight of him through the dirty glass window. Your narrowed eyes, suspicion-ridden expression, laced with fear at the same time that he glimpsed at before tearing himself away from the handmade peephole in a manner too reluctant and terrified for him.

There and then, leaned on a wall with his breath short and face burning up under the hood that obscured his face, König realized. You shared a connection, deeper than any. You must be. How easily you picked apart each of the places that belonged to him, like you felt with your whole being the dark, smudged stains of his presence left behind, how observant you were, it couldn’t have been a simple lucky guess, he was sure of it. You were meant for each other. Yes, yes, that’s it! The world fell apart, but it was always supposed to happen, you would find each other no matter what. The thought, for the first time in many, so many months filled to the brim with blood, gore, loneliness and hunger filled him with comfort.

That was what drew him in, there was nothing easy or outright understandable about you to König. He didn’t mind, though. You were meant for each other, that was all that mattered. He would bathe the world in blood if it meant you’ll be there to find way into his arms. He’ll protect you, just like the comfort from the smallest glimpse of your charming self protected him from the darkness that caged him in for so long. Only König can protect you. You just didn’t know it yet.

Of course, he realizes that his attempts might be too…forward for you, but it was for the best. He was doing it for you only, for your wellbeing, and no one else’s. Of course, he could be much more discreet, yet instead König chose to be meticulous with how he approached leaving behind signs of his presence. It was charming and so, so endearing, how quickly you picked up on the smallest traces left by him, how your brows would knit together in careful consideration, piecing together every clue given to you by König’s generous hand. Like a conversation between only the two of you. König had to let you know that your savior, your protector is coming. He wasn’t worried about you pointing out things left by him to your group; figures that they would choose to ignore it – it wasn’t meant for them.

König cherished every expression, every tiny reaction you gave to the smallest traces of his presence, keeping them hidden, locked away in his mind, recalling every and each one while lulling himself to a sleep that was sure to bring more dreams of you. The man savored them like there was nothing better than seeing your eyes widen in horror, hand clasping over your mouth to contain a loud scream of terror, as you stumble across a large, neatly stacked pile of festering, unmoving walkers that just a day ago creeped upon the camp, with no one from your group noticing, as expected. Of course, König could easily dispose of the whole pile elsewhere, burn them, bury them, or dismember them until there was nothing but rotten mincemeat left on the ground, but he wanted to send another message, by leaving the bodies for his beloved to find. Just so you’ll know, he’ll do anything to keep you safe. Anything to keep you all to himself.

Or when the shuffling within you tent momentarily stop after he would intentionally snap a twig with his full weight while doing a round through your camp, intent on putting another food item in your bag. Clearly you took notice of someone lurking through the camp, but didn’t dare to check what was the noise you heard. How cute. König needed you to know that you won’t go hungry with him either – he’ll give away the last he has for you to last longer. The world will have a little more light with you in it, rather than with him.

König also knew you could see his shadow from the corner of your eye at times. Those days, he was intentionally being sloppy, allowing himself more and more of the simple, invigorating pleasures of taking in your beauty just a few more seconds before ducking behind the thick trunks, scattered bushes or a corner. His blood would come to a boil almost instantly, the hood that usually allowed for normal breathing would soon become suffocating for him, and his hands would start to tremble until his teeth would find a way to bite into his flesh, flashes of pain searing the incredibly joy the image of you gave him.

It was hard to wait. So hard to not act on his deep-seated, loving urges and finally take you all for himself, like it should be. Like it was meant to be. Every day without you in his arms felt more and more like torture, hours ticking away with him wasting himself out of your embrace he craved so restlessly. Anything seemed to remind him of you, pulling along the slow realization that you were not there to ease his heavy mind out of the instability that threatened to spill over in destructive, bloody violence. It was worse than bad. König needed you. So wholly and desperately he couldn’t exist or function in the way he was used to.

Soon. He’ll set everything in motion very soon. König already started carrying over all his stuff and equipment from the roof to a camp he put together carefully, a safe distance away from this storage house. You’ll need a safe place to stumble into, after all. And, from that safe place, right into his arms.

You won’t have a choice. Because you were meant for each other. You just didn’t know it yet.

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[comicaurora]

Are there any tropes or lessons you like to see used on the five man band.

I.E.: the lancer needs to learn the power of friendship or the heart needing to learn self care

Oh man. So many. Just off the top of my head-

The Leader is out of commission and The Lancer gets their wish of being in charge! Oh god why is everything so difficult this is like herding cats how does The Leader stand it

The Smart Guy has friends now, so it's easy to forget that before The Band they were isolated and awkward and overall very alone. Let's unpack that!

Oh nooooo The Lancer was overconfident and got their ass beat by bad guys and now they need to get rescuuuuuued nooooooo what if they learn a lesson about truuuuuust

The Heart supports the team without complaint… but what happens when they need support? (hugs. hugs happen)

Has The Lancer… betrayed us?? (maybe a little, as a treat, but not for long so relax)

Everyone else is out of commission! It's up to The Smart Guy to sneakily save the day!

The villain of the week made someone in the group experience Deep Emotional Issues and now The Heart is going to straight-up murder them if nobody stops them

hey bad news they brainwashed the chillest friendliest member of the gang and now we have to do an absolutely terrifying fight scene about it

Everyone on the team is relying on one member's unique skill to save them all while the rest of them buy time, and the only person who isn't sure they can do it is the person doing it

One of them is cornered, but wins using a skill they picked up from a teammate (and possibly complains about it nonstop)

Everyone is being independently interrogated about something they all did and every single one of them is either stonewalling or lying outrageously

Okay one of the team is out of commission let's try REALLY HARD to take care of them and handle any problems WITHOUT BOTHERING THEM I'm sure this won't result in a comedy of errors

Everyone gets knocked flat in a one-shot move but how cool is it when the powerhouse is the only one who manages to get back up

Okay you guys go handle the main villain I'll stay here by myself and hold off the entire army of minions no sweat

Oh hey, turns out this Heart character we've been underestimating isn't weak or underpowered, they're just usually much too nice to kick anyone's ass half as hard as they deserve. congrats on finally finding their breaking point tho

One of the characters is feeling useless, sure hope they don't push themself to deeply self-destructive extremes to compensate

Somehow The Leader has been temporarily compromised to the side of Evil I sure hope The Lancer doesn't take it upon themself to solve this the only way they know how (running off on their own and getting their shit rocked)

Local Lancer Unfortunately Concludes They Are Undyingly Loyal To These Idiots

[serpentface]

The (now extinct) utosai, the last of the great lacetors.

Lacetors are a clade of warmblooded reptiles that fill niches as large grazers. The only genera surviving in the contemporary are relatively small (averaging about the size of cattle), but many older species grew bigger than elephants. Utosai were the last remaining members of this branch, dwindling towards extinction as their once vast grasslands experienced rapid desertification over a period of a mere few millenia, becoming the massive, mostly uninhabitable desert region colloquially known as the Deadlands.

They would historically live in herds consisting of one male, several (sometimes dozens of) females, and their associated young, which would migrate vast distances to follow seasonal rains. Males would fight each other to gain control of their mates or tempt away singular females, with young males roaming in bachelor herds. As reliable grasslands grew sparser, these herds grew much smaller, with the last remaining utosai being found largely as small bands of females and lone, wandering males that would opportunistically mate when they were lucky enough to find each other.

Utosai had very thick scaly skin that folds in plates, in part a vestigial defense mechanism against large predators that had LONG vanished. Like many other lacetor, they had partly bony facial pads that grew large and colorful in males as display features. Their tremendous curving horns served predominantly as additional display features, while the smaller, jutting horns partly figured into intraspecies combat, with males standing side by side and front to back and swinging these horns at each other in ritualized combat behavior.

These horns were clearly of value to the people who once inhabited the same ranges as utosai, as their ivory figured heavily into their craftwork and holy objects and can be found near-ubiquitously in the burials of high ranking people in the east interior Deadlands. These surviving utosai ivory artifacts are of tremendous value, with the mere prospect of obtaining them tempting many graverobbers and other such wealth-seekers into the remains of ancient human settlements (a mostly futile and often deadly task, most accessible tombs have already been plundered and those still left in peace are hidden deeply beneath the sands).

Utosai lasted far longer than many of their counterparts, surviving on (and trapped within) dwindling patches of coastal grassland fed by ocean rains, too isolated within stretches of desert for any chance of migration to grasslands further from the equator. These last fragmentary populations were discovered by traders and treasure seekers sponsored by the early 2nd Burri empire, with many hatchling utosai being taken back overseas hundreds of miles north. It is unknown when the last wild utosai died, but all but the tiniest fragments of their coastal grasslands are gone and the great beasts are nowhere to be found.

The captive animals were bred in Bur and eventually produced a relatively large (and heavily inbred) population, probably maxing out at around 1000 individuals. They were never truly domesticated but could be made tame and well accommodated to handling, which eventually developed into their use as mounts, forming an elite cavalry unit used in warfare. A war utosai was outfitted with a shielded tower upon its back from which archers could fire from height, and would be driven by a rider on its neck. Their use was functionally similar to irl war elephants, being utilized for intimidation, to scatter enemy formations, and to lead (or break) charges. These were the largest animals that most people would have ever seen, and were often reckoned as nigh-invulnerable. The utosai was heavily used in Bur's wars of conquest, and became an esteemed animal emblematic of the second Burri empire's might.

Very few consistently effective counters to the war utosai were discovered during the duration of their use. One very famous, very successful counter was used by the pre-Wardi Ephenni tribe in its war of independence against the second Burri empire (which was already beginning to collapse). The province of Ephennos was of key import to the empire as a breadbasket, being highly fertile lands and providing much of the grain that sustained the empire. A cavalry of ten utosai (a VERY excessive number against a less well-trained, less well-armed group of soldiers) was brought overseas to assist in crushing dissent and were devastating in battle, with only two of the ten being killed in three years of protracted warfare.

In an act of cleverness, desperation, or both, a trio of khait were covered in pitch and set ablaze, and spurred into hurtling towards the bulls in the utosai cavalry. The utosai panicked and fled, trampling many Burri soldiers in the process and utterly destroying their formations, with three of the eight utosai falling onto their sides (weighed down by their towers) and killed by Ephenni soldiers. This allowed for victory in battle, and this victory ultimately turned the tide in favor of the kingdom of Ephennos and its eventual independence. A motif of three khait wreathed in flames is still widely used in this region and as emblematic of Ephenni heritage (who, while broadly assimilated into Wardi nationality, still retain a sense of individual identity, and pride in their city-state being a center of power and birthplace of kings within Imperial Wardin).

The use of utosai in warfare dwindled after the discovery of this fairly effective counter. They were no longer reckoned as nearly invulnerable, and the great cost of transporting and feeding these animals became increasingly inviable. Captive breeding began to dwindle along with their use in warfare. The last utosai were lost, killed, or slowly died off in the Burri wilderness during and after the empire's tumultuous collapse. Some folklore describes hidden populations surviving in some wilder areas- there are several places in Bur where people claim to sometimes see the silhouettes of these great beasts against the horizon, and the rural parts of Ephennos are rumored to have a few of them (perhaps descendants of the surviving war utosai, perhaps their ghosts). Otherwise, they are lost to the world.

[takemeinyrarmy]

BoyBoy book club⭑.ᐟ

These books have either been mentioned or recommended by the boys, list made to the best of my memory, some notes added for context + little abstract. [(A.) = Aleksa's rec; (L.) = Lucas' rec; (Al.) = Alex's rec] Reply or reblog to add more to update the list thanks! 

⊹ Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation - Silvia Federici  (A.) [Aleksa's commentary: Also 'Caliban and the Witch' by Silvia Federicci is brilliant. It's a great marxist-feminist retelling of the European witch-hunts, it's really really cool. It completely flipped my view of the birth of capitalism... She posits that capitalism is a reaction to a potential peasant revolution in Europe that never succeeded, and situates the witch-hunt as a tool of the capitalist class to break peasant social-ties and discipline women into their new role as reproducers of workers.] || Is a history of the body in the transition to capitalism. Moving from the peasant revolts of the late Middle Ages to the witch-hunts and the rise of mechanical philosophy, Federici investigates the capitalist rationalization of social reproduction. She shows how the battle against the rebel body and the conflict between body and mind are essential conditions for the development of labor power and self-ownership, two central principles of modern social organization.

⊹ The Age of Surveillance Capitalism - Shoshana Zuboff  (A.) || This book looks at the development of digital companies like Google and Amazon, and suggests that their business models represent a new form of capitalist accumulation that she calls "surveillance capitalism". While industrial capitalism exploited and controlled nature with devastating consequences, surveillance capitalism exploits and controls human nature with a totalitarian order as the endpoint of the development.

⊹ Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia -  Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari (L.) || In this book , Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari set forth the following theory: Western society's innate herd instinct has allowed the government, the media, and even the principles of economics to take advantage of each person's unwillingness to be cut off from the group. What's more, those who suffer from mental disorders may not be insane, but could be individuals in the purest sense, because they are by nature isolated from society.

⊹ Open Veins of Latin America - Eduardo Galeano (A.) (Intro to LATAM history, infuriating but good.) (Personal recommendation if you know nothing about LATAM.) || An analysis of the impact that European settlement, imperialism, and slavery have had in Latin America. In the book, Galeano analyzes the history of the Americas as a whole, from the time period of the European settlement of the New World to contemporary Latin America, describing the effects of European and later United States economic exploitation and political dominance over the region. Throughout the book, Galeano analyses notions of colonialism, imperialism, and the dependency theory.

⊹ The Origin of Capitalism - Ellen Wood (A.) || Book on history and political economy, specifically the history of capitalism, written from the perspective of political Marxism.

⊹ If We Burn - Vincent Bevins (L.) || The book concerns the wave of mass protests during the 2010s and examines the question of how the organization and tactics of such protests resulted in a "missing revolution," given that most of these movements appear to have failed in their goals, and even led to a "record of failures, setbacks, and cataclysms".

⊹ The Jakarta Method - Vincent Bevins (A.) [Aleksa’s recommendation for leftists friends] || It concerns U.S. government support for and complicity in anti-communist mass killings around the world and their aggregate consequences from the Cold War until the present era. The title is a reference to Indonesian mass killings of 1965–66, during which an estimated one million people were killed in an effort to destroy the political left and movements for government reform in the country.

⊹ The Anarchy: The Relentless Rise of the East India Company - William Dalrymple (L.) [Not read by the boys yet, but wanted to read.] || History book that recounts the rise of the East India Company in the second half of the 18th century, against the backdrop of a crumbling Mughal Empire and the rise of regional powers.

⊹ The Triumph of Evil: The Reality of the USA's Cold War Victory - Austin Murphy (A.) || Contrary to the USA false propaganda, this book documents the fact that the USA triumph in the Cold War has increased economic suffering and wars, which are shown to be endemic to the New World Order under USA capitalist domination.

⊹ Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism - Yanis Varoufakis (L.) || Big tech has replaced capitalism’s twin pillars—markets and profit—with its platforms and rents. With every click and scroll, we labor like serfs to increase its power.  Welcome to technofeudalism . . .

⊹ The History of the Russian Revolution - Leon Trotsky (A.) [Aleksa's commentary: This might be misconstrued since I'm not a massive fan of Trotsky... but... his book "History of the russian revolution" is amazing. It's so unique to have such a detailed history book compiled by someone who was an active participant in the events, and he's surprisingly hilarious. Makes some great jokes in there and really captures the revolutionary spirit of the time.] || The History of the Russian Revolution offers an unparalleled account of one of the most pivotal and hotly debated events in world history. This book presents, from the perspective of one of its central actors, the profound liberating character of the early Russian Revolution.

⊹ Rise of The Red Engineers - Joel Andreas (A.) [Aleksa's commentary: It's a sick history book, focusing on a single university in China following it's history from imperial china, through the revolution and to the modern day. It documents sincere efforts to revolutionize the education system, but does it from a very detailed, on-the-ground view of how these cataclysmic changes effect individual students and teachers at this institution.] || In a fascinating account, author Joel Andreas chronicles how two mutually hostile groups—the poorly educated peasant revolutionaries who seized power in 1949 and China's old educated elite—coalesced to form a new dominant class.

⊹ Adults in the Room: My Battle with the European and American Deep Establishment - Yanis Varoufakis (A.) [Aleksa's commentary: The book I mentioned earlier - "adults in the room" - is amazing. There's a great description of Greece's role in the European economy [as an archetype for other, small European countries] and the Union's successful attempts to discipline smaller countries to keep their monetary policy in line with the interest of central European bankers. I'd definitely reccommend it!] || What happens when you take on the establishment? In Adults in the Room, the renowned economist and former finance minister of Greece Yanis Varoufakis gives the full, blistering account of his momentous clash with the mightiest economic and political forces on earth.

Edit: Links added when possible! If they stop working let me know or if you have a link for the ones missing.

[zzencat]

5 Urgent Messages You Need To Hear Right Now - Current ⌛️

5 bullet points. Raw, honest, and on the go. What do you need to hear right now? Includes: what to work on, what to be wary of, warnings, hints, potential downsides + rock-bottom consequences.

For better accuracy: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

From left to right. Breathe and choose.

——————————-

Pile 1. Not all is what they seem.

if something seems suspicious or too good to be true, it probably is. you can either gain or lose what you have.

some of you will be greatly rewarded for your hard work. beware of who you share your abundance with. be even more careful with the information.

someone you know is two-faced. be careful who you trust. (for most of you, this is someone you know but feel indifferent towards or don’t consider close.)

keep an eye on your material possessions, especially ones that others may envy. don’t leave valuable things around without surveillance.

something that tempts you should be reconsidered—especially with money. weigh your options. count the pros and cons.

Hints: look for the signs, laziness, liars, manipulation, sneaking around, stealing, caught red-handed, someone acting poor, colleagues, fake friends, seemingly likable colleagues, greediness, homelessness (3x), people in power, parents, offers, scams, impulsive spending, pretending to care, bad and hidden intentions, fire signs, scams.

+ failing to do so results in: isolation, fear, anxiety, social withdrawal, unceasing paranoia, loss.

————————————

Pile 2. It’s time to grow up.

laziness is an issue. put effort in your work and prioritize your time wisely.

revenge is not worth it. this is a wake up call to mature and practice humility.

you are worth as much as everyone else. no one is higher or lower. death takes everyone either way.

not everything has to be a fight. not everyone is out to get you. work on defensiveness. learn to let go.

doing more research improves open-mindedness. don’t be afraid to be wrong.

Hints: wasting time on small issues; pettiness; too much time on social media; purposefully engaging in controversial topics; immaturity; gossip; sudden aggression or anger; playing up one’s own importance; merely one among billions; holding grudges; big ego; spoiled; hard time saying sorry; owning up to mistakes; nepotism; the wrong connections; narrow-mindedness, inability to accept criticism or differing views and opinions.

+ failing to do so may result in: being too competitive, poverty/unstable income, irresponsible, ignorant, “puppet,” that people laugh at, no close friends/family, missed opportunities, no control in life, boredom, ignoring hard facts and truths, lacking uniqueness, sheep of the herd, having no dreams, not achieving much, lack of focus, poor social life and skills, jumping on the bandwagon, poor mindset, unlikable personality traits, disingenuous, misery.

——————————

Pile 3. Balance is key.

take breaks from time to time (especially the workaholics.)

rebalance your life. too much of anything is bad.

work on confidence and self-esteem issues.

moving too fast isn’t always a good thing. you will miss what’s happening in the background.

become more resilient. learn to bounce back from bad situations or inconveniences. prepare for sudden heartbreaks.

Hints: not having enough time to appreciate what’s around you; relationship resentment; sudden losses; self- negligence; waiting until it’s too late; stability requires effort; not making time for others in your life; make time for yourself; not considering mental and physical health.

+ failing to do so may result in: unknowingly losing a connection, poor work-life balance, (I’m hearing static- idk why…), not giving attention to loved ones, unintentionally negligent, loneliness, poor adaptation skills, being forced to watch something inevitably fall apart, betrayal, dwelling in sadness, ghosting, confusion, neglected mental health, too long of a hiatus, stagnancy, poor health, poor-to-no social life, no growth in character, absolute ruin.

——————————

**Ending Teddy Note: Hey guys! Hopefully you took something from the reading. These were tough deliveries, but they had to be said. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Reblog or lemme know what you think. I appreciate the feedback. Rmr to stay hydrated!! 😎✌️

[pleasuresofsohodolls]

⋆.ೃ - Infected!Reader

Infected!Reader who was literally bitten on the first day. Girl can not catch a break. She was trapped in the schools when they all got locked up for 'the time being' and got bitten while on the way to the gym hall. She freaked out and ran away from her friends, locking herself in the classroom. The bite was ugly so she didn't dare look at it, instead letting herself just sit in the room and contemplate life. What about her parents? Siblings? Friends? Teachers? She's had a few of those things try and get in the room but they always got distracted. It was on day seven that she ran out of water that she'd been stealing from the bags people had left in the classroom that she decided she should finally leave the room - she hasn't heard noise in a while so it should be fine, right? Second she opened a door a Geek appeared right in front of her, and all it did was walk past her.

Infected!Reader who just wanders around Virginia in the herds, sleeping in trees and bathing in the rivers or lakes. She's joined a few small camps but they never worked out - they were too dysfunctional. When someone found out about her bite the first thing she did was panic and stab the guy in the chest before running away - into another herd of walkers until she finds another place to rest.

Infected!Reader who's always wearing sleeves. Whether it be the hoodie she snagged after visiting her home once she made her way out of the school (how it still fits she doesn't know), or it be whatever long-sleeved shirts she can find.

Infected!Reader who is basically a living dead girl. After getting bitten on her right wrist and letting it heal over, it's turned into the ugliest, purple and black scar you could ever see. Her flesh is literally rotting there and the veins are dead - how she can still move and use her hand she doesn't know. Her body is tilted to the left so far that she has to physically hold herself up so someone doesn't walk past and try shooting her because they think she's a Geek. She's clumsy too, she falls over a minimum of ten times an hour.

Infected!Reader who found an abandoned neighbourhood - which she later discovered was an old army training base - and now lives there. She's the mayor and the community, and the Geeks are her friends visiting from neighbouring towns. (You go a bit loopy after constant isolation and the only things you're able to trust are literally dead).

Infected!Reader who met Aaron before she met Carl. She ran into him when he was scouting one day, trying to convince her to join Alexandria. She refused despite how insistent he was, and they actually spoke for a bit. Every now and then they meet up, he gives her some food that will go unnoticed from the pantry. And they're genuine friends, he sometimes even complains about the Alexandrians when he can spare it.

Infected!Reader who was entranced the second she saw Carl wandering around the abandoned neighbourhood she's coined as her own. He was just wandering around with a care in the world, but still somehow constantly on guard. Clearly he needs to get better if some girl managed to successfully stalk him for almost three months.

Infected!Reader who's first meeting with Carl was him chasing her down after catching her following him around the run down neighbourhood at gun point. The only reason he even ended up catching her was because she tripped over an invisible brick, or something like that. She was faced down leaning on her arms on the floor when he'd finally caught up, and when he made her turn over and drop her weapons, she almost squealed like some fangirl. She's only slightly obsessed.

Infected!Reader who's honestly a bit loopy. She talks to herself, talks to the Geeks, is so socially awkward that instead of just approaching someone she decides to stalk them. The first words she ever uttered to Carl was "Erm, my bad?" After he asked her why she was following him - at least he doesn't know she's been stalking him (yet).

Infected!Reader who when her and Carl started becoming friends, would refuse to step anywhere close to Alexandria. She doesn't do communities and she doesn't trust people except for Carl and Aaron. It's easier to be alone or with one other person than to be in a community of over fifty where one wrong movement could disclose such a ghastly secret. In the end it takes a year for him to finally convince her to even step fifty feet in front of Alexandria (just a few months after the end of the Saviours war).

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Technically this couldn't happen but it's okay 💜. Some of this (most of this) is actually inspired by a bot on JanitorAI by Allyluvsu, and the whole Aaron knowing her is inspired by carlsangel "Ghost in the Woods", go read it its really good !!