#I think about the bleeding heart dove for him a lot

[xx-riffraff-xx]

𓄿 ~ rabbit in a wolf’s jaws ~ 𓄿

premise; You're struggling after a hard week of failures and Sylus gives you a task you can't complete.

warnings; ANGST, I kinda put you through the ringer on this one, half-vent fic, lots of projection, panic attack, perceived anger at you, breaking prized possessions on accident and freaking out about it, there IS a happy ending

a/n; i'm not super happy with this one, but it did satiate the horrible beast clawing at my insides. heed the warnings, you are the subject of the angst in this piece. with that, enjoy! (feat. text divider i made!)

You were feeling off. It had been a long, difficult week. Everyone kept asking too much of you and they were angry when you couldn’t deliver. You had been chewed out by your managers and yelled at by coworkers. You hadn’t dealt with a massive Metaflux fluctuation fast enough to keep everyone from getting injured and faced the sneers of their families.

Usually, when you’re feeling inadequate, Sylus always knows how to bring your confidence back. He soothes your aches, prods just the right places to make you feel like yourself again. When the two of you have finished playing, you feel refreshed, reset, and ready to take over the world. You head straight for his house on your day off.

When you arrive, Sylus is quick to note that something is wrong. “Have you had a bad week, kitten?” He opens his arms for you. You mold yourself into his chest and nod. Whatever challenge Sylus gives you, you’re sure you can conquer it.

Sylus materializes a little glass dove into the palm of his hand. “If you can hide and protect this dove from me for 24 hours,” he taunts slowly, “I’ll let you do anything you want to my hair.”

Your eyes light up. You’re already picturing all the stupid colors and styles you could create. He said anything. There’s a nagging pull in your gut that you can’t do this. Despite this, you eagerly accept his deal.

”You have fifteen minutes of head start. Better run, little rabbit.”

And run you do. You race through the halls, looking for a suitable hiding spot. You anxiously count the seconds down, nowhere feels good enough. Wherever you hide it, it needs to be somewhere Mephisto can’t see and Sylus won’t think to look...

Your gaze lands on a wilting potted plant. The perfect hiding spot! Just when you think you might be able to win this—

You. Drop. It.

The bird’s body shatters as soon as it hits the floor. It’s deafening to your ears. Sylus surely must have heard it. You panic, surely the bird was expensive, everything Sylus owns is. It must be worth triple your entire net worth. He’s going to be pissed. You failed, again.

You drop to your knees, frantically trying to pick up the pieces with your bare hands. Maybe it’s salvageable? You wince as the shards of glass embed themselves in your fingers. You don’t want to know what happens when Sylus finds out you broke the dove, he never told you a consequence. Surely he has one in mind. You’re not going to stay to find out what it is. You tear a piece of your shirt, wrapping the shards up delicately. You think you got them all, you have no idea, but it doesn’t matter because you hear Sylus coming.

You run. Your heart beats like a rabbit’s. You know this is futile, but you’re prepared to defend the evidence with every ounce of courage you have. You’re trying not to leave traces of your blood everywhere, that would really set him off. Tears gather on your lashes, blurring your vision.

You yelp when Sylus appears in front of you, scrambling the other way. You never had a chance. You’re a bunny in a wolf’s jaws, slowly bleeding out where the teeth pierce your flesh. You think you’re hyperventilating, there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the air. Maybe your lungs are filling with your own blood. You trip again, your knees scraping on the carpet.

You try to get up and keep running, but Sylus pulls you back with his Evol and settles you in his arms. A pitiful sob escapes your closed throat. “Sweetie, what happened?” You cling to his soft timbre like it’s the last time you’ll hear it.

”I-I broke— I broke the— I tried to— I—“

”Sweetheart, *breathe. *It’s alright.“ He kisses the top of your head. “I’m not upset.”

You take a shuddering breath in only to cough it out again. It’s hard to trust what he’s saying when all you can hear is your feeble heart racing in your ears.

”That’s good, you’re doing well. One more breath.” Sylus settles on the floor, holding you on his lap with your ear to his chest. You can hear his slow, steady heartbeat and his even breaths. You suck in another breath.

”Good job, sweetie, keep breathing for me.” You sit together in the middle of the hallway for who knows how long. Sylus praises you for every few breaths you take. When you’re finally calmed down enough to breathe, your body decides it can cry. You place the bundle of glass shards in his palm.

”I—I broke the dove. I didn’t mean to, I promise! I just— I dropped it and- I was worried— I thought you’d be mad at me. Please don’t be mad.” You confess pathetically through your tears.

”Sweetie, I could never be mad at you for this. I should have given you an easier challenge after the week you’ve had.” Sylus says softly. He discards the bundle in favor of inspecting your hands. “How about we take care of your hands and watch a movie instead?”

You nod. Sylus carries you to his room. He cleans and bandages your wounds with the cutesy patterned bandaids he bought just for you. You snuggle up together on the couch to watch a shitty comedy movie, and you think, just for a moment, that maybe everything will be okay.

[mavuikas-wife]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆Yandere Sunday˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Part 2 of this fic

Warning:controlling behavior, threatening, Sunday

Yandere Sunday, who calls you to his office when you are about to end your shift. You don't think anything of it first, assuming he is calling you to discuss some matters regarding the upcoming charmony festival. As you were heading to his office, you noticed that the dwelight pavilion seemed a lot emptier than usual, yet you can't help but feel like you're being watched....

Yandere Sunday, who is camly standing in front of the miniature golden hour sand pit with one hand on the back and the other elegantly at his side.

Yandere Sunday, who looks up to you when you open the door and greets with a smile on his face.

After seeing Sunday's gentle smile, you relax a bit. Maybe you were being paranoid, and this is just a normal meeting....oh, how wrong were you

"Take a seat, dear." Sunday's gentle voice lures you towards the chair as he sits across from you with his legs crossed and taping his fingers on some files. "Do you know what are in these files dove? Take a guess. " Sunday asks as his gloved fingers trace the edges. ".....um.. I am not sure perhaps reports from the alfalfa family?" You responded, trying to remember what else is left to do for the charmony festival."Hmm,... incorrect, you see, we got reports from the bloodhounds family about a storeaway. " Your heart thumps loudly at the revelation,"and from the looks of it, you also have something to do with it, correct?" You try to act oblivious, trying hard not to incor the calm man's wrath. "Me? w-what would I have to do with the bloodhound family, much less a storeaway? Are you trying to imply that I brought a storeaway inside the dreamscape? Surely you jest Mr Sunday...." You let out a laugh trying to cover your nervousness. "Oh, but I am not. You see, the hounds have reported to me that you have been spotted with this man on many occasions and have been actively hiding him from the family. " Sunday gives you an eerie smile as he walks up to you, and his fingers lift up your head."Who knows what would happen if everyone in the family knew about this.... I may be forgiving, but I can not lie to the dreammaster now, can I." Your eyes dart around frantically, and your hands fiddle with the ends of your top as you think of a way to escape this situation."Mr. Sunday I- I will do anything, but please don't let any harm come to him, please. " Sunday's smile grows even wider if that's even possible."Anything, you say," " Yes, anything," your response doesn't seem to surprise him as if it was what he was planning for in the first place. "Then listen closely, my dear, for the harmonious Aeon have not shown you mercy today, but I have." At this point, you have your hands joined together as you look up to at mercy."Then I shall tell you what to do my dove..." Both his hands cup your face."You shall start a new life as my one and only wife." At this revelation, you stand up startled "w-what" Sunday's smile, not wavering a bit at your actions."What's wrong dear, you said you do anything, right? Don't tell me you're backing out now," you watch him still prossing his words. "Don't worry dear, I would never force you after all you still have a choice. You could say no to my offer, but your lover would would face the precautions, or you could join me, and nothing would happen him no one would press charges against him and you would never meet him again but he will be safe..." You clench your fist and bite your inner cheeks to the point it almost bleeds. ".....fine do what you want, but don't forget that I will never love you the way you want me to," you replied as you looked at him in anger. "Only time will tell my dear I certain that you would change your mind in the near future." His voice was all that you could hear as he caged you in his arms....

Yandere Sunday, who meets your family as your new lover and gets their blessings for marriage. Your family, who never thought you bag the representative of the family, the most handsome man in penacony, of course, they would say yes for the marriage this Sunday, the most respected man in penacony who in the right mind would say no?

Yandere Sunday, who also informs his sister Robin about his lover and about getting married. Of course he left a few details behind there is no harm in white lies is there?

Yandere Sunday, who plans the entire wedding along with the invitations and sends them to all the family members and penacony after all this is a grand celebration

Yandere Sunday, who spends a lot of money and time to make sure that your weeding dress matches his perfectly and the overall theme.

Yandere Sunday, who threatens tells you not ruin his image in public or else the people closest to would get hurt

Yandere Sunday, who makes sure everybody in penacony no in this universe knows that you are his beautiful wife♡

[once-upon-an-imagine]

You Keep Me Hangin' On - Steve Harrington

A/N: sooo, apparently it worked 😂😂😂 thank you to everyone who voted, I might keep this up since it helps me focus on a specific story😊 I mixed three different requests here so I really hope it makes sense, this one is mostly angsty but I am planning on a part two, so let me know what you think  

Requests - dawninparis​ asked: is this how you request something? i don’t know i’m a bit new to all this 😳 anyway i saw you were accepting st request so i was thinking maybe steve and reader are in an established relationship but with all the stuff happening in s4 and reader not being aware of all the supernatural stuff she gets jealous of all the time he spends with nancy and the fact he is hiding everything from you just to protect you and just basically a lot of angst (bc i like to suffer) and ending however u like even tho my heart is easily broken with sad endings 

- Anonymous asked: I would like to request a Steve story that takes place in season 4 where him and reader are dating already. Reader has noticed how awkward he has been around Nancy and vice versa. How they’ve been talking a lot more (good thing Eddie was there to keep them company😉). [full request here]  

- Anonymous asked: Hello babes, I'm not sure if you want to write this but may I request for a Steve Harrington angst to fluff fic? Haha! I just want to torture myself again with all these angsty stories. Somewhere around, reader is pining for steve and thought that she have a chance with steve but the latter thought that maybe he's still not over nancy. Reader felt hurt / embarassed by this and decided to date someone else, when she did steve realizes that she's the one that his heart has been longing for the whole time and not nancy. Thanks

Warnings: pretty angsty and Steve is kind of an asshole but also a jealous asshole xD and Jason (he deserves his own warning) let me know if I missed anything 

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things :) gif isn’t mine :D  

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You Keep Me Hangin’ On

Set me free why don't you, babe Get out my life why don't you, babe 'Cause you don't really love me You just keep me hangin' on

You had known for a long time now. You had just, for some reason, held on to a stupid little hope that kept you hanging to this stupid little crush. Although it wasn't that little. And that voice in your head that kept you hanging sounded an awful lot like Robin insisting that Steve felt the same way you did.

You tried to believe her. You really did. Steve was very caring and affectionate towards you. You remembered the first time you drove him home, drunk, and he asked you to stay with him. And you did. And he said it felt nice to not wake up alone. And then, it became a natural thing between the two of you. He would call you whenever he needed you. And you would call him whenever you needed him. And he showed up. He always showed up. Which made you believe Robin when she said he felt the same way you did. But neither of you spoke about it. You hugged. You kissed. You did more than kiss. You couldn't imagine your life without him. But you weren't entirely sure if he could do the same. You feared that he could. He could live without you.

And right now, it was more evident than ever. You instantly dove into the water when he was pulled back into the lake. You pulled the bats off him and fought them with whatever you could find before Nancy, Robin, and Eddie also appeared to help. You were about to help him stop the bleeding right before Nancy ripped off the bottom of her blouse and started patching him up. And you saw it. You saw the way Steve looked at her.

"You're bleeding" you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Eddie by your side.

"Huh?" you asked, confused.

"Your arm" he pointed out. "It's bleeding" he repeated and you looked down to see that he was right. You hadn't even noticed. You were bleeding. Badly.

"Holy shit!" you panicked a little, not really knowing what to do.

"Here" he said, gently grabbing your hand and taking the black bandana out of his back pocket.

"Oh, I don't want to stain your bandana. I know that's your favorite one" you told him, not really noticing the smile that appeared on his face when you did.

"Don't be ridiculous, princess. It's just a piece of fabric" he insisted, grabbing your hand and cleaning your wound gently. You lifted your head from your arm to watch Eddie as he worked on tightening his bandana around you. You found yourself smiling a little at how careful he was being. He did not seem like the loud, careless guy you always saw in school. "How's that? Is it too tight?" he asked, worriedly.

"N-no. That's perfect" you smiled. "Thank you, Eddie" you told him.

"You know, it was pretty badass, w-what you did" he chuckled.

"It was?" you asked, feeling a little nervous for some reason. You never really thought of yourself as badass enough to get that credit from Eddie Munson, who you considered to be one of the most badass people you knew.

"Yeah, I mean, jumping in the lake and fighting those bats. That was metal, princess" he smirked.

"You also jumped in the lake and fought those bats, Eddie" you reminded him.

"Yeah, but after all of you ladies did" he insisted.

"Well, you still did" you told him. "And that says a lot" you smiled.

"So, uh" Eddie cleared his throat, pulling away from you a little. "This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?"

"Yeah, pretty much" you nodded.

"Wait, watch out for the vines" Nancy said as Robin started walking around. "It's all a hive mind" she explained.

"It's all a what?" Robin asked.

"All the creepy crawlies around here" you told her. "They're, like, one or something" you told her. "Step on a vine, you're stepping on a bat" you instructed. "You're stepping on Vecna" you finished.

"Shit" Eddie said, next to you.

"But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?" Robin asked.

"As far as I understand it, yeah" Steve said.

"So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate" Robin suggested.

"I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin" you told her. "But guns, yeah, sure."

"Well, we don't have to go all the way downtown for guns" Nancy added and everyone looked at her. "I have guns in my bedroom" she shrugged.

"You, Nancy Wheeler" Eddie started. "...have guns, plural, in your bedroom?"

"Full of surprises, isn't she?" Robin asked, excitedly.

"A Russian Makarov and a revolver" Nancy explained.

"Yeah, you almost shot me with that one" Steve said.

"You almost deserved it" Nancy smirked back at him.

You tried to hide your upset expression but Eddie seemed to notice before he threw his jean vest at Steve and he glared back at him a little.

"For your modesty, dude" he said, making Steve roll his eyes before putting it on.

"Hey, are you okay?" Steve asked, walking closer to you.

"I'm fine" you said with a firm smile.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he questioned, looking at your arm.

"Yeah, but don't worry. Eddie fixed it" you told him.

"Oh" Steve said, not entirely loving that part. "O-okay" he sighed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a scratch" he said, trying to make you laugh.

You barely smiled before you followed Eddie and Robin who were climbing on trees and rocks, careful not to step on the vines. When Robin accidentally stepped on a vine, the five of you felt the Earth moving under you when an earthquake happened. Your instinct almost made you run to Steve, but you saw he quickly grabbed Nancy, who was closer to him, and he pulled her to his side. You couldn't even register the whole thing before you felt two arms grabbing you and making you fall to the ground with him as you felt Eddie's arms tighten around you.

"Holy shit!" you heard Robin, not so far from you.

"So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me" Eddie said.

"Yeah, me too" you said, feeling your cheeks burn a little at how close you were to the metalhead and not noticing a pair of eyes glaring your way. "Uh- um" you cleared your throat. "Thanks" you smiled shyly.

"Don't mention it, princess" he said, helping you up.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

As the five of you walked to the Wheeler's house, Steve could barely register what Nancy was telling him. His eyes were glued to Robin, you, and Eddie walking ahead of them. Specifically between you and Eddie Munson. He noticed he was trying to make you laugh because he could see the worried look on your face. And the worst part was that he was succeeding. He didn't like the feeling he got whenever you laughed at something Eddie Munson said. He didn't like that you had his bandana on your arm. He didn't like that he was walking a little too close to you and the worst part was when he saw his hand trying to reach for yours.

"Uh, yeah, Nance, hold on a second" he said, not even trying to understand what she was talking about as he ran over to the trio in front of him.

"Hey, Eddie" Steve said, catching up with you. "Uh, could I... talk to you?" he asked, making Eddie look at you a little confused. You simply shrugged and Robin pulled you away to go join Nancy instead, leaving the two boys behind.

"What's up, Harrington?"

"Hey, man. Uh... Listen, I just, uh... I just want to say thanks. For saving my ass back there" he smiled.

"Shit. You saved your own ass, man" Eddie told him. "I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there!"

"Ozzy?"

"When you took a bite out of that bat. Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat's head off onstage" he explained as Steve looked at him confused.

"I don't-"

"You know? Doesn't matter" he shrugged. "It's very metal, what you did. That's all I'm saying" he told him.

"Thanks" Steve smiled.

"Henderson told me you were a badass. Insisted on the matter, in fact" he explained.

"Henderson said that?"

"Oh yeah" Eddie nodded.

"Shit!"

"Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea. It's kinda annoying, to be honest" he mocked Steve. "I don't even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, but, uh, guess I got a little jealous, Steve" he smirked. "I guess I couldn't accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche? No way, man. No way" he chuckled. "That, like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine" he explained, making Steve laugh and roll his eyes a little. "Still super jealous as hell, by the way. Which is why I would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any, uh... normal circumstances. Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that's what I've learned about myself this week" he muttered the last part.

"Give yourself a break, man" Steve insisted.

"See? The only reason I came in here was 'cause those ladies came in straight after you. Now, I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind" he explained. "But, your girl, right there" Eddie said, pointing at you, walking ahead of them. "She didn't waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in" he told Steve as they stopped walking for a moment and Steve looked at you while you walked with Robin. "Now, I don't know what's going on or what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would not take her for granted, man. 'Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen" he told her. "And if you let her go, someone else might not be so stupid" he informed him.

"Are you talking about... someone in specific?" Steve asked, glaring a little at him.

"Maybe" Eddie shrugged, patting his back. "I'm just saying, Harrington. Don't be the douche I always thought you were" he said before he walked away from Steve.

As soon as you all got to Nancy's place, she, Robin, and Eddie started making their way upstairs. You were about to follow them when Steve gently pulled you back.

"Hey" Steve said, smiling nervously at you, a few steps down. "Uh- I just... um, I wanted to ask if uh-" he said, running a hand through his hair as he always did when he was nervous. "If w-we're okay? I mean, are you- uh are you feeling okay?"

"Are you?" you asked, a little confused.

"No- yeah, uh I'm fine" he sighed. "I just wanted to check if you were also... fine?"

"I'm fine" you said with a firm smile before you turned around and you tried going upstairs but Steve stopped you again.

"It's just um... you got hurt" he said, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he looked at the bandana wrapped around your arm.

"So did you" you told him. "And I think yours is... much worse" you said, looking at Nancy's blouse wrapped around him.

"No, it's fine" he insisted.

"Great. So, you're fine. I'm fine. We're both..." you sighed. "Just fine" you said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, frowning.

"Uh- nothing" you quickly said. "We should... get up there-"

"No, what did you mean by that?"

"Steve, this isn't the time or the place-"

"But you're upset!"

"No, I'm not, I just told you, everything is fine!" you insisted.

"Really? So, if everything is fine, why are you spending so much time with Munson?" Steve asked, accusingly.

"Ohh, you noticed that? I figured you'd be too busy with Nancy to even pay attention to anyone else!" you replied.

"Wait, is that what this is about?"

"No! I didn't mean to ugh-! Just... forget about it, okay? We have bigger things to-"

"Shhh!" he shushed you, holding up his finger.

"Um, excuse me?"

"Did you hear that?" he asked, looking the other way and walking away from you.

"Hear what?"

"Henderson!" he said, walking around the empty room.

"Well, it finally happened. He snapped" you muttered under your breath.

"HENDERSON!"

"What's going on?" Nancy asked, walking over to you with Robin, and Eddie.

"I don't know. He thinks he can hear Dustin-"

"I don't think! I can hear him! HENDERSON!"

And then, you heard it.

"Oh, my God! DUSTIN!"

"There has to be a way for them to hear us!" Eddie insisted as the five of you tried to look around the room.

"Wasn't there a way that Will communicated with Joyce when he was here?" Steve asked you, pointing his flashlight at the light in the middle of the living room.

"THE LIGHTS!"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Robin, for the fifteenth time, I'm okay" you replied as you two tried to grab anything you could use at the War Zone.

"It's just that you and Steve have barely spoken since-"

"Since he decided to stay back at the UpsideDown because Nancy was cursed by Vecna and he now refuses to leave her side?" you snapped a little. "Sorry" you sighed. "There's just... a lot going on right now" you told her.

"I know that, but... well, you and Eddie on the other hand-"

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Come on, you can't tell me that there's nothing there-" she chuckled.

"There's literally nothing there" you laughed. "I don't think Eddie likes me that way" you rolled your eyes.

"Do you like him that way?" she asked, curiously.

"N-no" you said, nervously. "I don't know. Like I said, there's too much going on right now. And Eddie has been nice to me. He's always nice to me and... I don't know this isn't the time to focus on stupid guys, okay?"

"Love, it's never the time to focus on stupid boys" she laughed, making you laugh a little too but she quickly stopped when she spotted Vickie on the other side of the War Zone with her boyfriend.

"Rob" you said, feeling sorry and placing your hand on her arm.

"Have you ever felt like someone just ripped out your heart?" she asked, looking back at you.

You smiled sadly at her and then looked past her. "Yeah, I... have an idea" you said silently and she followed your stare to see Steve laughing with Nancy at something she had said. "Aw, well that's fun for me" you smiled, sarcastically. "I'm gonna go over there, okay?" you quickly said, walking away from Robin as she rolled her eyes and walked over to Steve, punching his arm.

"Ouch! What the hell, Buckley?!"

"Well, I wouldn't expect to find you here" you turned around hearing that dreadful voice.

"J-Jason" you said, nervously. "Yeah, well, it's just... scary times" you smiled. "Uh- I'm... sorry about Chrissy" you told him.

"Want my advice?" he asked, getting closer to you. "Shotguns are not good for much of anything past killing small birds" he said. "I mean, they got power, sure, but not much range" he said, as you stepped backwards, creating space between the two of you but he got even closer. "And that's just gonna force you into close-range combat, then someone can just grab that barrel like this..." he said, grabbing the weapon from you. "...and redirect it" he said, smiling, making you feel uneasy. "Well, you look nervous" he chuckled.

"Uh -like I said" you tried to smile. "Scary times" you told him. "Could you let go, please?"

"Sorry?"

"She said 'let go'" you heard Steve behind you and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Harrington" he said, letting go of the gun. "Didn't see you there" he said, stepping away.

"Well, now you do so..." Steve said, nodding his head so he would take the hint.

"Lovely seeing you" Jason said, before turning to look back at you.

"Hey, you okay-?"

"We need to go, now" you said, grabbing his hand.

"But-"

"But nothing" you said, pulling him with you. "Eddie's outside" you whispered.

"Right" Steve muttered a bit upset. Munson.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Hey" you were snapped out of your thoughts when Eddie sat down on the grass, next to you.

"Hi" you smiled.

"So... I guess this is a dumb question but... how are you feeling?"

"Funny, I was just going to ask you the same thing" you smiled.

"Me? I'm having the time of my life, princess. Are you kidding me? We're about to go to the UpsideDown and fight for our lives, really... it's where I pictured my life at this point, he chuckled, making you laugh a little.

"You know, you don't have to do this, Eddie" you insisted.

"Are you trying to rob me of my hero arc, princess?" he said, making you laugh, which you didn't know how was possible with how anxious you were feeling. "I was just going to tell you the same thing" he told you.

"It's just... you've been through a lot in like... what, 48 hours?"

"Yeah, it's been intense but... well, you being here kinda makes it better" he admitted.

"It does?" you asked, feeling your cheeks burn.

"Yeah" he insisted. "I mean, if... it were up to me, I wouldn't want the situation of us hanging out to be in a creepy world fighting this... monster but... I guess it's pretty badass" he chuckled.

"Well, if it involves you I would assume it would have to be badass" you smiled, making him blush a little. "So... if it were up to you... what would the situation be? U-us hanging out?"

"Well- uh-"

"Hey, Munson!" Steve said, suddenly appearing and interrupting the two of you. "Um... Henderson's asking for you" he said.

"Um- sure" Eddie said, looking back at you. "Sorry, princess. Raincheck?"

"Sure" you smiled as he got up and he helped you up too. "See you in a bit" you told him before Steve replaced his place.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" you asked, confused.

"You and Munson?"

"We were just talking" you shrugged.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?"

"What? What are you talking about, Steve?"

"I just find it interesting that every time I look at you he just happens to be there" he said, glaring at you a little.

"Well, maybe we were just talking about our part of the plan, since you made me stay back with him and Dustin!"

"I knew you were upset about that! Nancy and I just decided this was the best way to make the teams!"

"Oh, what a lovely coincidence that you get to go with Nancy!"

"And Robin!" he added. "Why does that make you so upset? Because you don't get to come and physically kill Vecna with us? I need you to stay back with Eddie and Dustin!"

"Why? Because you don't trust me as much as Nancy!? You don't-" you stopped yourself before you could say 'You don't love me as much as you love Nancy'.

"Nancy knows what she's doing!"

"Oh, and I don't? We were all down there, Steve! And in case you didn't notice, I was the first one to jump when you were dragged back into that lake! Not Nancy! I am just as capable as she is-!"

"I didn't say you weren't but I just..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I need you to stay back with Dustin and Eddie okay?"

"Fine!" you said, reluctantly. "I can't do this anymore Steve" you sighed.

"Sweetheart, I know it'll be hard, but we have this plan and-"

"No, not that! This!" you said pointing at him and yourself. "I am tired of just being your option when Nancy is not around!"

"That's not true and this isn't the time to-"

"Right... it's never the time" you sighed.

"Well, not when we're about to go face Vecna in the fucking UpsideDown!"

"You're going to face Vecna with Nancy and Robin! I'm staying back with Eddie and Dustin!"

"That's not how it is!"

"Yes, it is! That's the plan that you two came up with! Together!"

"Look, what do you want from me? It made more sense this way!"

"Just admit that you still have feelings for Nancy and be done with it so I can just... I don't know, move on!"

"M-move on? From us?"

"There is no us, Steve! Is there?"

"Why would you say that?"

"I don't know, Steve! I'm tired! I'm tired and I can't do this anymore! It's not fair!"

"Ugh! I'm not trying to make you feel like this on purpose! I don't have feelings for Nancy, okay? Why does everyone think that I still have feelings for Nancy?"

"Oh, really? Everyone thinks so? So, I'm not the only one then!" you said, feeling your heart starting to break.

"No! I didn't mean it like that! Nancy is my friend! Okay! That is it! I care about her and I don't want her to die!"

"Nobody wants her to die, Steve! But you keep following her around like a lost puppy-!"

"How would you even know since you decided to stay with Munson every chance you get?! I can't believe you're being this dramatic over Nancy. SHE'S MY FRIEND!" he snapped. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, we are all on edge, and... I just... I need to do this, and I need you to stay with Dustin and Munson!"

"I don't want to fight with you either, Steve, and I know this is probably the worst possible time, I just-"

"Hey, guys!" Dustin shouted, interrupting you. "Time to go!"

Steve sighed, tiredly and looked back at you, not really knowing what else to say, so you did.

"You know what? You're right, we have more important things to deal with right now" you smiled with tears in your eyes and you placed your hand on his arm. You were about to follow Dustin but Steve pulled you back, pulling your hand.

"Listen, I care about Nancy, yes. Of course, I do. But, I swear, she's just my friend" he told you. "And I care about you too. I do, a lot" he said, nervously. But something wasn't letting you believe him anymore.

"As a friend?" you asked, with your voice breaking a little.

"It's... complicated" he said, making your heart break into little pieces. "And I swear we'll talk about it, after this, I just-" he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Something was telling you that he would never love you as he did Nancy. That little voice was becoming louder than Robin's telling you he loved you just as you loved him. And you felt your eyes watering. And you knew he could see it, but he didn't say anything. Because you knew time was running out and you had to follow Dustin. So you just smiled sadly at Steve and cupped his cheek with your hand.

"I love you, Steve" you whispered, having the strangest feeling in your heart that this may be the only chance you would get to tell him this, so you kissed his cheek. Like you always did and you gave him the saddest smile Steve had ever seen on someone. "And I really hope you get her back someday."

To Be Continued

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

[Part 2] 

A/N: sooo, I am definitely not evil enough to just leave it there :D this is definitely going to have a part two... so let me know what you think xD (and also, who you think she should stay with) 

[gingermintpepper]

I think a lot about the depictions of Troilus' death that feature Achilles trying to prise him with a gift of doves instead of the immediate promise of death.

I've alluded to it before, but I tend to look at Achilles and Apollo as comparison cases - maybe not explicitly foils because I'm petty and that would imply that Achilles is narratively equal to Apollo and I don't want to give him that kind of honour even in a bit of casual analysis - but certainly as characters who gain a great deal of complexity when their actions are contextualised in context of each other's. The ambush of Troilus is just one of those funny little things that gets my mind a-whirring.

Because to me, Apollo's 'Troilus' so to speak is Kassandra. Kassandra, who Apollo coveted and wished to court. Kassandra, who was offered a great gift that would have undoubtedly forever marked her as one of Apollo's if she had accepted. Kassandra, who takes the gift but rejects the god and is cursed for her deception. Kassandra, whose curse makes her experience a thousand deaths over and over with no way of communicating such disaster to those around her.

The Achilles who falls in love with Troilus upon seeing his beauty and wishes to make a conquest of him is much the same to me. The biggest difference between Troilus and Kassandra though is that Troilus' rejection is much more physical. Those doves are nothing more than a symbol of the type of sacrifice Troilus would be; if he accepted them, he would die a docile death, sweet and quiet, a necessary casualty to turn the winds like Iphigenia. Except Achilles' love is nothing like Agamemnon's and it is nothing like Apollo's.

In the face of rejection, Achilles' instinct is to maim, it is to destroy. He was always going to kill Troilus - for the sake of the campaign, the boy had to die - but there was no dove's death, no quick and easy knife through the heart, no spit into an open mouth. Troilus' death is a brutal, drawn-out thing, a chase through the sand, a dragging that bruises his skin, a ripping of his hair, a violation of his flesh, a maiming of his corpse. As far as sacrifices go, it's an apalling one. None would dare to treat an animal set to be sacrificed before a god with that kind of brutality, sacrifices were meant to be blemishless and beautiful, something the gods would find appealing. Iphigenia was given away in her wedding finery, Kassandra was dressed as though to seduce a god. Troilus was a dove with his wings broken and his feathers pulled, whose death cries must've been like the terrible hollering of all birds when they try to alert their kind to a predator.

And as fucked as that is, I love it. It sets Achilles' love as this stormy, squallish thing that bleeds into his rage, it establishes that for him, love and wrath are but two sides of the same blade. Troilus was a necessary sacrifice, but he is in no way given even a modicum of the same dignity his contemporaries are and a part of me is just continually intrigued by this.

[blueberri-blu]

Ch.4 Mea Vita ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡

[rise]Future!Donnie x Future!Reader & Donnie x Reader (Post Krang Invasion)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, gore, injuries, may add more

Please heed the warnings

←Previous Next→

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Previously...

You two were interrupted, however, by a loud crash, and Older Leo yelling for Older Donnie. "Stay Here, please" he whispered.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Back home, your Donnie was, obviously, panicking.

You were in an alternate universe, supposedly helping other, future him, save their family, because he had lost you.

Sure, he had thought of the possibility of you dying before him, of course he had. That's why he tracked your vitals, your location, and checked for any injuries through your steel grade titanium watch, similar to his.

But it becoming an actual alternate reality?

It was just... Too much for Donnie.

Of course he wouldn't have had any motivation, why would he? When the love of his life, no, his life, was gone?

And How did you die? Did you die in front of him? Did you bleed out? Were you captured by the Krang? Were you just lost?

All Donnie could think about was What Happened?

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

While you obeyed Older Donnie's plea, you thought of just that. Well, not exactly, more so how your Donnie was holding up. You had already been here for 4 days. You and Donnie hadn't gone so long without contact.

You were rudely pulled out of your thoughts by Older Leo grabbing you and running.

"Hey Leonardo!! What The Fuck!!"

"please, y/n, calm down, we need to leave, now"

"and go where?? We are literally 100 meters from the base??"

"you really think we only had 1 base?"

"and what about Donnie?"

"he's just getting some of his things and he'll meet us there!"

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

The new base seemed even bigger, almost as if the one you were at was the backup.

That's when you say Older Mikey again, he greeted you just as excitedly as last time. And he wasn't busy enough to keep him from showing you around this time.

You two walked up to the Med Bay area, and you saw Older Donnie, he wasn't extremely injured, but it was still debilitating.

"Donnie! Hey, are you ok? How're you feeling?" Your soft voice caught Older Donnie's attention, distracting him from his conversation with Older Leo.

"Hello dove, thank you for actually listening to me, *amused chuckle* you always were very stubborn, but I suppose you also knew when things were serious."

His gaze upon you felt... Different.

Even though he was from a different universe, from a simple look, you knew.

You knew he was reading you like a book, as if he had known you for ages, like you were old friends.

Though you suppose that's technically true.

Thankfully his injury only needed stitches, but he was still advised to lay low and to take a break.

Compared to when you had first met, he was a lot more relaxed. However, you couldn't tell if it was him getting used to your presence, or the drugs Older Leo had given him for the pain.

Either way, you made great company for him while he rested. As Older Donnie had previously pointed out, you were stubborn, and took Older Leos instruction to heart. You would barely let Older Donnie get up to use the bathroom, definitely not letting him go to his newly set up lab to work.

It was strange. Older Donnie asked you about problems your Donnie didn't know about yet, and hed accidently talk about memories your Donnie and you hadn't made yet.

Tonight was no different, soft talks, light laughter, and nostalgia. You were helping him get into his bed, and that's when you caught a glimpse of it again. The necklace with the 2 beautiful bands on it.

Your hands betrayed you, and reached out to gently take them between your fingers. Older Donnie froze, then snatched them out of your grasp.

You and Older Donnie just sat there, frozen, not knowing what to do.

"my apologies, I didn't mean to be so rude. However, I fear that it is merely out of habit."

"it's.. it's ok, don, I shouldn't have touched them to begin with."

"sigh, they... They were ours. You were so excited, I had made them out of high grade titanium, just like my tech bo, so that they'd last. Sad chuckle, you said that they represented how strong our marriage was..."

you could tell he wanted to cry, to scream, anything, everything, just to get his you back. And you couldn't help the lump in your throat.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

That night you two grew impossibly closer. By now, you were back to helping him in his lab, he was making you trinkets that helped those problems he had talked to you about.

However, as Deadpool once said, life is full of commercials of happiness, and now, you were back to your regularly scheduled program.

It was a simple gathering mission, get in, grab the stuff, get out.

But of course, it was never that easy.

In fact, it was what you could only describe as, the absolute worst day of your life.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Omg- another cliffhanger?

[pastelhills]

Dovesoul refsheet🕊️

Bought this cutie from @/tigersunii (on Instagram) as an adopt design (along with some art) and been obsessed with him ever since, here's some infos about Dovesoul because I need to ramble about my son:

⭐ While drowning in the Crystalpool (their version of the Moonpool) after accidentally falling in he gets a vision of being the clan leader of a new clan, after being saved by the healers and seeing one of the apprentices looking exactly like one of the cats in his visions the idea of forming his very own clan never left him. He eventually does it and names it Dreamclan, after his hopes and dreams of a better future and clan.

⭐ He was found in a birds nest (specifically bleeding heart doves) as a kit by the Springclan leader, Skunkstar, and adopted by her. He can speak bird because of that and has a close connection with one of the hatchlings of the nest (she's named Mango and is basically his sister).

⭐ Dovesoul had some trouble with speaking and pronouncing stuff in his younger years which led to him being ostracized and made fun off by his peers, which spurred his dreams of building a clan that accepts cats that are deemed "different" even more.

⭐ He somehow got a star blessing while almost drowning in the Crystalpool, which basically gives you extra strength or abilities that matches your rank or talents (all leaders, healers and prophecy cats are star blessed which gives them a stronger connection to Starclan). He had to get specially training by a mentor who's also star blessed ( it was brutal but necessary), he can take on opponents 3 times his size but doesn't like to show off so his clanmates don't know what he's capable of until it gets serious.

⭐ Dovesoul often acts before thinking which can lead to some pretty stupid ideas but he has a heart of gold and puts a lot of effort into trying to get to know every new cat that joins Dreamclan, his new clanmates can't help but be charmed by his stupidity and obliviousness.

✦☁️✦🌟✦🕊✦

[theharrowing]

An Ghealach

Field Linguist Jimin Park travels to a remote island called An Ghealach off the coast of Ireland to research and document an endangered language, just in time for the community’s Beltane festivities. What he encounters is both horrifying and mesmerizing beyond his wildest dreams.

🌑 Jimin x Female Reader 🌒 word count: 9k 🌓 speculative horror, gore, major character death, dub con, smut, nsfw, 21+ 🌔 warnings: 🕊 dead dove! creepy folk horror themes (shapeshifting, human sacrifice), unable to tell dreams from reality, gore (mention of entrails, mention of bleeding someone dry, cutting palm and drinking/smearing blood), dubious consent (use of magic to put into a trance & coerce), angst, infidelity (mention of an engagement), smut (voyeurism & exhibitionism, oral & vaginal sex, a bit of ass eating, rough sex, holding of throat, blood licking, a little biting, forest sex, a need to be cum inside of), nickname "pet", major character cloning & off-screen death. 🌕 note: hello, and welcome to my fun little Beltane horror fic! appearance of reader in this fic shifts, and is therefore described. sometimes she has pale skin, other times dark, purposefully left vague aside from hair and occasionally eye detail. this story is a bit rushed because of yoongi concert week and final exams happening in the same month; i had a lot of ideas, but the time just kept creeping up and up and up, and here we are, at the end of May!

🌖 i also made a lot of shit up in terms of the magic, left a lot of shit vague, and did not worry much about whether things make any sense, so...go into this with a grain of salt; this is not meant to reflect any real Beltane rites or rituals, even if certain things (like the maypole) sound familiar. it is also not meant to depict a real place or a real dialect of a language. the Gaelic words are meant to feel wrong and strange because this place is wrong and strange. (a friend of mine who is Irish & a linguist helped me with the words; i promise you, the intent is to feel wrong.) enjoy!

🌗 mc goes by the name Rí; Jimin's pov appears in italic paragraphs

🌘 written for A Spring Offering Collab! check out the other works! 🌑 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 🌒posted may. 2023 | read on ao3

Cross his heart, hope to die Hang his entrails, bleed him dry

He is Here. He is here. Heard, have you? He is here.

The women of the island chirp and coo at one another, heads tilted inward, as if sharing a profound secret. Their voices are low but lilted with excitement, and the language in which they whisper is old – nearly extinct. 

Your footfalls crunch through grass that has hardly seen rain – unseasonably dry, despite the air holding onto a thick, shrouding dampness. Soon, the sun will stay risen for more than eight hours, and, if this summer is bountiful, the clouds will open up and shower your island with abundance. 

Seen the man, have you? They whisper, unused to men from outside the confines of the island; unused to skin darker than porcelain. No outsider has stepped foot permanently on this land since your father had, all those years ago; only mysterious strangers who last as long as the holiday allows. 

Strange, his name is. They whisper. And the sun, his skin shines with deep hints of its rays. 

"Girls," you call in a tongue that whisps through your lips, wind fluttering between delicate petals, ancient. "Our manners, let us not forget."

"Our manners, Rí," the women respond in a chorus, pulling their expressions straight, only to begin giggling the moment they think you are no longer listening. 

Bright orange hair falls in tight curls to your shoulders, which are exposed to the sunlight. You wear a white long-sleeve chemise that rests mid-bicep and is tied loosely in the front over perky cleavage. Your emerald green bodice sits under-breast and opens to a long emerald skirt that falls to your bare feet over a hoop skirt made of layers of cloth. 

Your girls are dressed much more simply in white chemise dresses and underpants. Some wear modest green or burgundy bodice dresses, and some wear plain white or black cloth shoes. 

The propellers on the white aquatic plane whirr as you approach, and you hear two male voices speaking loudly over its engine. One man, dressed head-to-toe in a white pilot uniform, docks with the help of four of your women, and he exits the small aircraft. 

After a pause, another man appears wearing a tan blazer over a white tee that is tucked into fitted blue jeans, with a black leather belt and black boots. Around his neck, a white kerchief is tied, and his hair is coiffed delicately off his forehead, casting a beautiful wave of silvery-blond that hardly blows in the winds coming from the sea. He looks as if he is dressed for a weekend getaway to somewhere far more exotic than here, and you find it absolutely adorable. He is more petit than you anticipated – average height and slender – but what stands out the most is the man's face. 

Even from this distance, the man is breathtaking. His full lips pout as he straightens himself out, and he seems surprised and apologetic when the girls begin to assist with his things, pulling suitcases from the plane. 

At his shocked expression and attempts to communicate with precious creatures who do not speak a common tongue, you make your way forward, holding your many skirts in hand so your feet do not trip. As soon as you approach and begin to shout to the girls to be careful, the man's eyes lift, lips part, and you watch the moment he notices you, deeply breathing in and holding it while you speak. 

"Girls, girls," you call in the ancient tongue, "handle gently."

As his things are brought to the pier, the man begins to organize them. Everything is on wheels, and he must deem a certain suitcase more important than the others, taking it by its extending handle and dragging it to dry land first. There is a short set of steps between the path and the pier, and you walk down and reach a hand out to offer help. 

"Thank you," the man mutters, seemingly uncertain whether you are one of the many who do not speak English. 

"You must be Jimin Park," you say, reaching for the handle and watching as recognition and relief paint his pretty features. 

Up close, Jimin is a thing out of fairytales. Wide, dark eyes glance curiously at the landscape, and each curve of his face is soft and delicate, despite his profile being sharp lines. An anomaly of beauty, carved with careful hands. 

Jimin guesses at your name and you nod, flashing a sweet, welcoming smile – you had been the one corresponding with him before his arrival. He must relax, because as you begin to tug for his suitcase to lift it up the three short wooden steps, his hold loosens, and he eventually allows you to take it, only letting his gaze linger a moment before he turns to grab more of his things. 

You help him with his belongings – four black cases in total – and each of you take two to wheel down the dirt path past the open field, along the edge of the woods that peeks out into the village, to the inn that sits ahead, to the left. Although your home is in the woods, you have prepared a room in the inn, sharing a wall with Jimin.

The village is quaint. There are a few homes at the far end of the walk, along a stretch of foothills. A town hall rests between the homes and the inn, and there is a small store room holding onto all imported wares, farmed goods, and hunted items. To the right is all forest until the cliffs open up to the vast ocean, and on the other side of the wood, village elders live out their days, never minding what you and girls do on this side, so long as their bellies stay full and hearths stay ablaze. 

"Have you lived here your entire life?" Jimin asks slowly, annunciating each word with precision. There is a hint of his own accent giving the English a very pretty lilt. 

"Nearly," you respond, eyes slowly wandering from the inn, sweeping the small hints of village that come into view, landing on the forest. "My parents arrived when I was little, but my mother was born here. The island is in my blood."

"And you are the only person here who speaks English?" Jimin asks, voice a bit shaky and hesitant.

As you turn to gauge his expression, you find hints of anxiety. You wonder if Jimin is not the kind of person who likes to seek the help of others; if, perhaps, you will have to be assertive in offering assistance with everything he may need. 

"I am," you respond with a smile, "which means you and I are going to become quite well acquainted, Jimin Park."

Over dinner on the first night, Jimin opens up about growing up in South Korea and attending university both at home, and in the United States. As girls come to fill your plates with more cured meats, he notices that they call you Rí. 

Jimin is an inquisitive fellow, whose pretty dark eyes are wide and curious – and somewhat glossy after two cups of honey wine – and you smile with feigned shyness, nodding your head demurely when he asks you about the nickname. 

"It means king," you tell him with a grin.

"Ah," Jimin responds with a growing smile of his own. "So are you their king?"

With a chuckle, you shrug and say, "I suppose I am. We have elders but they live on another part of the island. I'm the one who takes care of the girls."

"And the hunting and farming?" Jimin asks. 

"Much of our bounty is from the autumn equinox," you admit shyly, vaguely. "We had an abundant winter."

"Wow," Jimin responds curiously. "Good weather last year?"

It was luck that two cops came snooping around the island just before Samhain; their blood was the perfect offering to the old gods. With their entrails strung up, dangling from the trees, and slowly drip-draining into the grass below, the skies shined favorably through the cold season, and wild animals practically skittered and galloped happily into your traps. 

"Yes," you respond simply, smiling fondly at the memory of the two transmuted squirrels who were sent home in the men's stead with nothing to report on but normal goings-on, on the island. 

Magic of that caliber works best on the holidays, when the passages are open and the power from the other side covers your island like a rich fog, sparking it to life with intrinsic energy. A shame you used that power to create two men of the law, but the last thing your little homestead needs is more blue-capped guards snooping around for their missing men. 

With the perfect specimen for this year's festival sitting beside you, your excitement shimmers, vibrating under your skin and making the air around you feel charged. You had hoped that, being as young as he is, you would be sent someone without a spouse, making it easier to fall under your spell – buying you a little time before having to clone the poor guy and send him back. 

A shame that this season's sacrifice not only comes with a gold engagement band around his finger, but is so dreadfully pretty that you almost lament the thought of watching the light drain from his eyes. 

But the land is hungry, and feed, she must.

“Cross his heart, hope to die. Hang his entrails…will he have pretty entrails, do you think?” you sing-song, lifting a handsome red squirrel in both hands, holding it eye-level to inspect. It had come to your window at the stroke of midnight, cheery and pliant. 

An offering from the land. 

A host. 

“What a shame I can’t just keep him for myself,” you muse, considering the fact that you were able to transmute two men before. “Perhaps I will have to make a second clone, this time. Can you bring me a friend?”

The sound of thumping is what wakes Jimin up. At first, he thinks it may be a tree branch tap, tap, tapping against the window. But as sleep falls away to wakefulness, he realizes the sound must be coming from the other side of the wall. 

Your wall.

Falling asleep was difficult, in the first place. Something about the island, and especially the inn, feels incredibly ominous, like there is a presence looming just out of the peripheral, never fully seen. And the scent that you carry – spiced cloves and fresh bouquet of wildflowers – lingered in the air, filling his head with thoughts of you. 

Now, as he blinks through the darkness, he wonders if he had slept a wink, at all. 

Jimin rolls over, attempting to ignore the sounds in favor of getting more sleep, noticing in his brief moment of wakefulness that it is still pitch black outside. But then he hears it…humming…low and inviting, causing all the little hairs on his arms to stand at attention. 

Somewhat mindlessly, Jimin pushes the thick quilted blanket away and climbs out of bed, heavy-lidded and barely aware of his surroundings in the mostly-empty room. Golden lantern light glows in through the window, allowing him to see ahead of him just enough to make a clear path toward the sound.

In his dreamy haze, Jimin imagines voices whispering – beckoning him forward. Come to me, they say, tangling and slipping over one another, mostly incomprehensible flits of lips, teeth, and tongue, spoken too softly to truly be fully heard. 

Jimin places his hands against the wall, presses his ear against the wood, and listens. The humming continues, muffled delicately by the layers that separate it from him. Is it Rí, he wonders.

As he continues to listen, his eyelids flutter closed. The thumping sound is rhythmic and soft, and the humming has shifted into something more sensual. Moaning, perhaps? Whimpering, even? He feels entranced by it and presses harder against the wall, feeling the cool wood against his cheek gradually heat, until his breath huffs out sticky-warm against it.

Come to me, Jimin, he is certain he hears in a voice that can only be yours. Don't be shy.

He feels drunk and loose-limbed, rubbery and pliant, and he sways his hips to the inviting song, dragging his blunt fingernails over the wall. The humming – the moaning – it intensifies, drawing his breath ragged, forcing small sounds of his own to come falling past his lips. His body feels electric – charged with a current that runs ultraviolet through his bloodstream, desperate for more, picking up hints of spiced clove and musky floral notes.

With a crescendo of whimpers, the thumping quickens and abruptly ends, and Jimin gasps, waking from his stupor, stumbling listlessly from the wall and wiping drool from his face. His head feels hazy as he blinks and turns, taking in the dark room and wondering what kind of dream he was just having. 

In the quietude of the night, he stands still and listens. Had he imagined hearing something before? Was it all a dream? Only the scent of the trees below his cracked-open window fills the space, but he inhales deeply in search of something more. 

Silence settles, heavy but somehow light, and he sighs, runs a hand through his damp silver-blond hair, and returns to the bed, trying his best to ignore the ache in his pants – hard and neglected. 

"Not tonight," he whispers, scolding himself. Not over the thought of you. Not when he has someone waiting for him back home. 

"Sleep well?" you ask at the sight of Jimin exiting the inn. 

He wears a black tee tucked into black fitted jeans, with his black belt and shiny black leather boots, and you smile to yourself, both over the simplicity of it all, and from how much he stands out in a place like this. 

Although denim is not frowned upon in the village, and is worn often by the elders on the other side of the island, the girls love to dress up in renaissance-reminiscent clothing and make believe that every day is a fairytale. After all, on An Ghealach, it can be. 

You are modestly outfitted in a white chemise dress that is cinched at the waist, with an undershirt to hold your breasts in place, and simple cloth white shoes. Your straight, black hair falls waist-length, braided intricately away from your face, letting the sun hit your deep-golden skin. 

"I slept alright," he responds, voice rough from disuse. 

Jimin smiles softly, and you check for any glimmer that he has noticed the shifting of your appearance, of the outside of the inn, of the stone path that stretches around the forest edge. When Jimin smiles and asks if there is anything he can do to help set up for Beltane, seemingly unaware, you nod and lead the way. 

"All there is to do today is prepare the land, which the girls have under control," you inform. "We can discuss phonemes in the meantime, if you have your equipment handy.”

With a wide smile, Jimin pulls a small recording device and notebook from his back pocket and holds them up. "Always prepared."

You chuckle and mutter, "Perfect," continuing along the path to the field where the girls are cutting the grass with old, metal devices on wheels, and gathering all the prettiest weeds and wildflowers to fashion into crowns.

Jimin makes good company, curious and open-minded without asking too much. You can see in the way he watches the girls that there is so much he would like to know – can read each question that flits over his eyes, only to be blinked away. Where did they come from? Why do none of them speak English? Where are the men? These are questions that just hang for brief seconds at the tip of his tongue but that he never works up the courage to ask.

Perhaps he knows it is best not to know. Perhaps some part of him is aware of the horrors that might lurk behind the corner of posing one question too many. 

The two of you spend the day discussing vowels, consonants, and syntax. His grasp on modern dialects of Irish Gaelic is enough that he instantly begins to draw similarities between those and the older language spoken on the island.

And as the sun moves from burning hot overhead to sinking beneath the horizon, moving your studies into the inn's tavern, you find yourself scooting close on the bench while offering more honey wine to your eager, beautiful guest. 

Jimin has never sleepwalked before. In fact, he tends to lay so still that often, his neck and limbs are sore the next morning, popping as he stretches in an attempt to get the blood flowing adequately. 

So when he opens his eyes to find himself standing barefoot in the woods, hands outstretched toward the trunk of a tree, he yelps and jumps backward, nearly fumbling to his butt. 

“What the fuck,” Jimin mutters to himself as he glances around, eyes becoming more alert. 

The woods are nearly pitch dark, save for the bright glow of the waxing gibbous moon shining through the trees. What luck, he thinks, that the clouds are scarce tonight. 

Although there is no foreseeable path, the ground appears mostly clear of thick brush. Jimin turns and makes his way out, careful not to step too hard, gently shuffling his bare feet outward with each step, avoiding sticks and rocks as best as he can. 

Fear simmers just below Jimin’s skin. He attempts not to spiral, telling himself that he could not have possibly walked far. His blue flannel pajamas are warm, but thin enough that the chilly night air would likely have woken him quickly. And so, onward he presses. 

A flickering yellow flame glows through trees ahead, just to the left, and Jimin lets out a deep sigh of relief as he changes course. Although he is pleased to be making his way back to civilization, his new worry is being disruptive as he walks back through the old, creaky inn. He does not want to disturb Rí, who he imagines must be asleep at this hour. 

Despite the island being mostly covered in dense forest, the night is surprisingly quiet. Eerily so. Even in the daytime, insects and rodents are lively to the point of seeming cacophonous. How is it possible for everything to be so…still?

The sound of a particularly loud stick snapping – not underfoot but ahead – has Jimin tensing and freezing with fear. He holds his breath while his shoulders raise to his ears, trying his hardest not to be detected, until smoked clove hits his senses, and—

“Jimin!” you call softly, certain that his fear has spiked nearby, radiating like heavy, bright fumes between the birch trees. 

And then you hear it, a soft, delicate voice, calling a tentative, “Rí?”  

Ah, so the pretty thing is just ahead, and your plan to at least get him into the woods has worked without a hitch. You wonder what it was that snapped him out of his trance too soon. Next time, you think to yourself. You still have one more night to get him into the passage of his own volition. 

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, feigning worry and exasperation. 

“Ah—“ Jimin begins, voice sounding somewhat closer. “I don’t know. I must have been sleepwalking.”

“Is that something you do often?” you ask, holding the lamp higher. 

Jimin’s pretty face comes into view, peeking from between a thin birch that separates you, and you smile wide and welcome, taking in the blend of fear and affection that wafts from his pores and surrounds you. 

“No,” he responds softly, eyes wide and curious. “Never.”

“Strange,” you mutter, momentarily stuck in time and space from him standing so close to someone so dreadfully beautiful. 

“Yeah,” he says soft as a whisper, blinking heavily before standing straight and rounding the tree. 

You also straighten out and take two steps backward to give him room. When Jimin appears before you, your eyes drop to his bare feet, and you frown, making a mental note for the next time. 

With skin shades darker and hair shorter than earlier, you wonder if Jimin catches onto the new appearance. But his face gives nothing away. So the spell is just as strong, even if he broke the call of the other side just before entering the passage. Interesting. 

“How did you find me out here?” Jimin asks as you turn and lead the way back to the inn, searching the shifted dirt path for a believable excuse. 

You slowly lead the way toward the inn, and Jimin quickly falls into step beside you. When you walked outside to follow your guest just moments ago, you had left doors open and lights on intentionally, and you raise a hand to point in the general direction of the building. 

“I came out of my room and your bedroom door was wide open," you say. "The front door, as well. So I grabbed a lantern and ran outside; I figured you could not have gone too far.”

“Oh,” he responds, already sounding ashamed even from one syllable. “I’m so sorry.”

With an insistent shake of your head, you say, “Not at all. I am just glad I found you.”

“What if an animal, or—“ Jimin begins, but you cut him off. 

“There is nothing on this island that we fear. Closed doors are only such to keep the cool air out where it belongs. In the temperate months, doors and windows are left wide open.”

You are the witch of the wood, after all. Nothing that lives and breathes on this isle exhibits an ounce of free will if you wish it otherwise. Which reminds you… Slowly, you will the creatures of the night to stir – a scurry here and a dance of wings there – gentle enough to keep Jimin from noticing. 

Except he does notice. You can practically feel each hair on his body stand at attention the moment a squirrel is heard clawing up a tree, and you take a step just a little too far to the right, bumping into him softly with the hope of providing a bit of a distraction. 

"S-sorry," Jimin mutters, rubbing his hands on his blue pajamas. He seems nervous. Cute. 

"Lost my balance," you respond, shaking your head with a gentle chuckle. "It is past bedtime, I am afraid."

"Sorry again for the trouble," Jimin says as you reach the inn, passing through the threshold and stopping just at the foot of the stairs. 

You turn to Jimin and give a soft, sympathetic gaze. 

"It is no trouble at all," you mutter sweetly, smile saccharine. "I'm just glad I was able to find you."

Jimin hums, nods, and says, "It won't happen again," with a light bow of his head, then makes his way up the stairs, dirt-dusted feet falling quietly on each step until he is down the hallway, past your room, and closing his door softly behind him. 

The look of wonderment on Jimin's face really is something. As you walk through the small town, past the stretch of woods in which you found him last night, he keeps turning his gaze back to the trees. Is he wondering what it is he was doing there when he woke up from sleepwalking? Is he curious what drew him to that spot? 

You watch his micro-expressions as his brows knit and he wets his lower lip with just the tip of his tongue. He had been mid-sentence before, trailing off the moment you approached the spot through which he emerged. 

Jimin's gaze drifts to you, and he seems shy suddenly, cracking a soft smile while blush rises to his cheeks. Once you pass the wooded area and come up to the opening of the field, he seems a little more present. 

"Sorry," he mutters, and you continue to study him, noticing how his shyness seems to steadily build the more you watch him. 

"Has something caught your eye?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder toward the line of trees. 

A dark mist pulsates between the slender, white and brown trunks and branches, beckoning with tendrils that billow out and evaporate – yearning for the pretty man with the soft smile. Soon, you want to tell it. Be patient. 

"Ah," Jimin mutters, scratching the back of his head with his face scrunched as if searching for a memory. "I guess I feel a little strange about sleepwalking last night. How did I end up in the woods, of all places?"

You hum in understanding and say, "The wood calls to us all, I suppose."

Without giving Jimin much time to dwell on your words, you hold out your hand and point him to where, in the center of the open field, some of the girls are setting up a maypole, and others are building a tall triangle of logs in the center of a stone circle. 

Jimin takes out his small recording device and field notebook, and you begin to describe the scene before you in a mix of English and the ancient tongue, carrying your studies through the evening and into the early night.

In the woods again. 

Jimin stares down at his hands covered in dirt and wonders how he has managed to sleepwalk two nights in a row. He stands with his shoulders slumped forward, bent slightly at the knee with an arm outstretched as if he was reaching for something before waking up. In front of him is the u-shaped opening between two thick tree trunks. Or is it the same tree? Jimin cannot quite tell – too difficult to parse in the dark – and he tucks the information away to ask Rí about later.

He would be freaked out, only the smell of the wood – rich, earthy, and damp, with the sweet, musky smell of blooming flowers – feels calming now that he is confident that he can find his way back. He takes a deep breath and resists the urge to wipe his hands on his pajama pants.

The walk back to the inn is short, and although there is no path where he is, a golden lantern glow flickering past the thin birch trunks guides him. As twigs snap underfoot, he notes that he took the time to put his sneakers on before sleepwalking, relieved to not be barefoot again.

Jimin thinks he can hear faint sounds of voices – whispering, or, perhaps, chattering. Maybe singing. The island inhabitants certainly are an interesting bunch. He supposes that being far from modern civilization and with minimal technology would make people behave a little strangely. With Rí being the exception. 

Something about you seems…different. And not just because of your appearance. There is an aura about you that feels almost otherworldly. Perhaps in the way you carry yourself. Jimin finds himself intrigued by you...he wants to know more…

"Right there," you sigh in a tongue as rich and ancient as the soil, tilting your head back to reveal more of your neck, switching to English. "Feels so good, little pet. Don't stop." 

His kisses are tentative and shaky, but he grips onto your hips with purpose, pressing his chest firmly against your back to hold you steady. Golden lantern light flickers through the curtains, one long, bright glow of a lamp that hangs just below your window, signaling that your friend is awake and that he has not entered the passage. 

The woods are calm tonight, seeing Jimin swiftly return to tilled earth without interference. It is only a matter of time before he breaks through the forest edge, and you huff impatiently. Tomorrow is your last shot; you will need to beckon him with a blood ritual. 

You reach for the ties on your chemise and begin to pull them open, but your pet takes over, raising his hands to deftly do the work while his lips and teeth drag over your neck, sending a small but steady tingle of arousal through you as the sticky-sweet huffs of breath warm your skin. With the top undone, his hands freeze in place, and you yank the fabric open, exposing your breasts as they fall past the thin white material. 

"Touch me," you sigh, needy. "Touch me the way he desires to."

On your command, his hands cup your breasts eagerly, fondling your nipples until the skin is pebbled and sensitive, making you hiss with pleasure. Your dress falls down one shoulder and he sinks his teeth gently into the skin, sending a flow of electricity through your body, exiting in the form of a moan. 

You tremble and tilt your head further to the side, giving his mouth more room to explore while his hands fall lower, attempting to gently lift the cotton layers of skirt and farthingale hoops before impatiently taking handfuls of the garments and shoving them up, over your hips.

Clear of the woods, Jimin moseys along the path, in no rush to return to his room, enjoying the crisp but warm night air. Something about tonight feels ominous, and he tips his head toward the sky, noticing a bright moon shining back. Is it full, he wonders. It must be, given the way it glows past the thin sheets of cloud, illuminating his path even more so than the lantern light that hangs from the inn. 

As he approaches the inn, Jimin glances up, noticing light coming from one of the windows on the second floor. He wonders if it is the room you stay in, and what you might be doing awake at this hour.

Gravel and dirt crunch underfoot, quiet and calming as he walks down the path. Shadows seem to dance over the window above, and Jimin finds himself gazing upward. Briefly, he thinks he sees the appearance of palms pressing into the window, halting his steps. But the glass is frosted, and he cannot clearly see through. 

Shame travels up Jimin's neck as he gets his bearings, realizing he had been trying to peer through someone's window. He shakes his head and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air as he presses forward. 

Voices continue to chatter and sing, but Jimin does not see where they are coming from. Rather, the sounds seem to be lifting and floating with the wind, settling around him on all sides only to slip away into the night. Despite feeling fully awake mere moments ago, shivering against a chilly gust that blows his hair into his eyes, there is a heavy sense of drowsiness that begins to tug at him, pulling him forward, as if willing his feet to take each new step, craving his bed. 

The man behind you grips your hips tightly, then sinks to his knees, sliding his hands down to your ass as he lowers. He grabs firmly and spreads you, causing you to fumble forward and place both hands against the glass. Below, Jimin glances upward, attention caught by the movement. You wonder what he would think if he saw you like this – breasts exposed and mouth parted with surprise. 

Perhaps it is the way eagerness and curiosity emit from Jimin, or how your own excitement from being touched has mewls and gasps falling from your lips, but the man digs his tongue eagerly into your ass, slurping and sucking over your hole, sending a steady wave pleasure and arousal coursing through you. 

"That's it, pet," you whimper, nails scraping down the glass as you get your bearings. "Don't stop."

The man attempts to bend you further, tongue trailing down to your cunt, in search of your clit, but bending more would be too precarious, especially with the layers of material gathered, making it tough to move. He shuffles back instead and takes you by the hips to spin you roughly, causing you to yelp as you attempt to get your bearings and not fall over. 

When you look down at the man – the imposter that was spawned from the flesh and blood of a mature red squirrel, crafted perfectly to look just like him – you gasp. 

His plump lips are slick, glistening, and soft, reddened by the dim lamplight, and his short, silver-blond hair is a mess as he stares up with an eagerness that has you burning with desire. Ordinarily, you keep the clone for a bit; play with them a little until you have to wash their memories of you and send them home. But staring down at an imitation of Jimin just makes you want him – the real deal. 

“Please,” you mutter, breathy and aroused. “Don’t hold back.”

The imposture rakes his blunt fingernails up your thighs, sending a shiver through you that escapes with a gasp, and he leans forward, eagerly lapping over your cunt with his tongue. It feels charged and galvanic – a hum that vibrates in your bloodstream on a low but steady frequency. 

As your head lolls back you hear a gentle footfall on the bottom step. 

Jimin finds it odd that your light is on at this hour. He hopes that somehow his absence from the inn has not awakened you again, and he does his best to tiptoe up to the landing. 

It is soft, but he hears what sounds like a moan coming from your room, and he freezes, foot suspended in air just before your doorway, which is cracked open two enticing inches. A sliver of golden light casts a streak against the otherwise dark hallway, and Jimin feels a pull to it, eager to have just a tiny peek.

A whimper of the words please don't stop has the hairs on his arms standing tall. 

Come to me, Jimin, he thinks he hears the voice say lowly, inside his head. Don't be shy.

Jimin wills his feet to move – exerts all the force he can muster into taking three more steps ahead. And then he stops in the light that shines from within, and he looks.

Surely, he must be dreaming. There is no other way to explain how he is standing in the doorway to your room, watching as a man who has his exact same hair and body type devours you. Your legs are spread, one ankle over his shoulder, toes outstretched as you hold him close, and your bare breasts heave as you pant softly and beg him not to stop. 

Since this must be a dream, he allows himself to watch. As your fingernails dig into the wooden edge of whatever the look-alike has you pressed against, you unravel from his mouth. His sounds are lewd and wet, slurping and humming in a low tenor that Jimin recognizes as his own, and arousal stirs between Jimin's legs. He grants himself permission to touch, just this once, gently grasping onto his erection and squeezing it over his pants. 

Since this must be a dream, he allows himself to whimper from the warmth of his palm, eyelids flitting from pleasure as he listens to the man who looks just like him eat you out. He wonders what you must taste like – wonders if you would let him crawl in there on his hands and knees and try for himself. 

The man stands, turns his head slightly to the side, and wipes his hand over his mouth, leaving a trail of slick behind. The jaw, the nose, the shape of the brow – he is a spitting image of Jimin. How Jimin is in two places at once, he does not know, but he keeps his eye on the man who undresses in a flash, displaying his own tattoos exactly where he remembers them, flexing familiar taut muscle that he has spent years building and maintaining. 

When you wrap your leg around his hip and pull him close, your eyes find Jimin, gazing over his look-alike's shoulder, and he gasps, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. You shift before his eyes, hair turning black and then orange and then blonde, and he begins to question how you are supposed to look; he cannot remember your hair, nor eyes, nor skin, but nothing he sees now feels incorrect. 

"That's it, Jimin," you moan, eyes trained on him, looking over the look-alike's shoulder, and causing his aching cock to twitch in his pants. "Don't stop."

Jimin squeezes his eyes closed tight, and when he wakes up suddenly in his bed, he gasps for air, covered in sweat. The heat from what he presumes had to be a dream covers him like a blanket, and he cannot stop himself from relieving the ache between his legs. 

Guilt and shame do nothing to stave off just how hard he cums thinking about you. 

"Just this once," he tells himself, whispered softly like a prayer. "Just this once."

Today, you have returned to the long, orange curls, with piercing green eyes. Shadow and light morph your skin tone with each passing step, as the full strength of the island's magic fills you from the crown of your head to the tips of your fingers and toes. When Whitman waxed poetic about the body electric, could this have been his meaning? Certainly not. 

Beltane begins today. 

Around the maypole, you and Jimin will dance, with a belly full of cured meats and a heady concoction of honey wine laced with blood and a generous dash of magic. But first, you must greet your sleepy guest, and you tiptoe to his bedroom door dressed only in a thin, white chemise dress with light blue embroidered hems, and rap your knuckles three times against the stained wood. 

"Just a moment," Jimin mutters from the other side, sounding sleep deprived. 

What must he have dreamt about after stumbling like a lust-sick zombie back to his bed to the sight and sound of his clone fucking you breathless? Did he come to in a cold sweat, gasping for air? Did he touch himself thinking of you?

When Jimin opens his door, he is dressed in a loose-fitting white cotton shirt hanging over matching cotton pants. Along each hem is an embroidered design of light blue rounded flourishes that match those on your dress, and on his feet are plain white shoes. You offered the clothing to him last night, to be worn for today's festivities, and you are pleased to find him outfitted in the attire. 

His silver-blond hair is somewhat disheveled, and he has a hint of bags under his pretty, deep brown eyes. As he takes in your appearance, his petal-soft lips part, and you watch as his eyes linger here and there, as if tracing the faint outline of a memory, for split, fleeting moments. 

"Good morning, sunshine," you tease, adding, "May the fires of Beltane light your path," with a gentle bow of your head. 

When you glance up once more, Jimin is still staring, curious eyes glowing with a new spark that seems entranced and somewhat foggy. Here but also not. You allow him to stare until he begins to blink and shake his head, and then he smiles softly and returns your greeting with a hint of blush darkening his cheeks. 

"Merry Beltane, Rí," he says with a slight bow to his head. "May the fires of Beltane light your path."

At the breakfast table, down in the decorated inn tavern, Jimin laments having no pockets for his recorder and field notebook. "What if there are things I want to make note of?" he pouts so cutely beside you. 

"Today is a day for celebration," you insist, dropping a generous serving of spiced honey into his tea and scraping the wooden spoon against the porcelain just enough to make Jimin stir where he sits. 

"For celebration," he responds in a tired, malleable haze.

Lust and curiosity pour from Jimin, covering him in a rich cloud. Each time you speak, his body shifts ever so slightly closer, gaze lingering on your lips and throat, flitting down to your breasts. Shameless, the way he does not seem to care that you take notice.

"My dear, did you sleep poorly last night?" you ask, trying not to tease, pretending not to notice the way his cheeks darken further and he heavy-blinks again and again.

"I had a dream I woke up in the woods again," Jimin responds, slowly reaching for his tea and raising it to his lips. His eyes flutter closed as he breathes in the sweetened chamomile and spice. "And then…you were there."

"In the woods?" you ask, tilting your head with feigned curiosity. 

Jimin shakes his head. "In the inn. Your door was cracked open and I walked by. I saw you—"

Pulled from his trance just enough to mind his tongue, Jimin cracks a soft smile and lets out a breathy chuckle. 

"My dreams have never quite been so lucid before," he continues after a quiet moment. 

You hum in response and mutter, "Perhaps the magic of the wood is calling to you."

Jimin nods, slow and shallow movements, brows knitting a hair before he concedes to the notion. "Perhaps."

Jimin certainly is an eager man. 

Eager to drink from the wineskins and learn all the steps to the harvest dance and dangle colorful ribbons from nearby trees. Eager to join the girls around the maypole and cast his wishes and fears and desires into the tall bonfire which licks at the stars above. 

At nightfall, under the glow of the full moon, you slice open the palm of your hand with a stone dagger and allow droplets of blood to fall into his cup of magic-imbued wine. Jimin sits unaware, eyes glazed over as he watches nude bodies jump over the dying fire. You lick over your wound, tasting brassy warmth, and pass him his cup, which he grabs automatically to sip from. 

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, leaning close. 

Jimin hums in response, downs his cup, and turns to you with wide, ever-eager eyes, hair sticking out on the sides from beneath a daisy crown. 

"What have you done to me?" he mutters after a long moment, and you giggle in reply.

"What do you mean?" you ask, watching as his eyes travel to your lips and back up.

"I feel…" he begins, eyes widening as he gazes at the celebratory scene before him, then back at you again. "I don't know. High?" 

Jimin searches your features, which shift in the flickering flame light, and he shakes his head lightly. "How do I feel so high?"

"Blood ritual," you respond with a grin, noticing as Jimin's face and scent alternate between fear, acceptance, and confusion – unsure where to land. 

"Blood ritual?" he asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

With a nod, you lift your hand and begin to stand from the wooden bench, beckoning Jimin to follow you with your index finger. Blood trickles down from your palm to your wrist, tickling the skin. 

"Your hand," Jimin mutters as he stands in a rush, stepping forward to inspect your wound. 

"Follow me," you sing-song, taking large strides into the wood as the dripping red begins to stain your sleeve. 

"Rí," Jimin mutters sadly, following dutifully with his eyes trained to your wrist, reaching out with limbs that are just slightly too slow to grasp. "you're hurt."

As your footfalls snap twigs and the world around you darkens under the cover of trees and long rainbow ribbons, you press yourself against a thick trunk and reach your uninjured hand out to grab onto Jimin's wrist and pull him close. 

"Rí," Jimin pouts, "I can't—"

With a whispered, "Shh," you reach up and smear your spilled blood over Jimin's lips and chin, pulling a surprised gasp from his lungs. 

"You're mine now," you say, and Jimin nods as he lunges forward, slotting a knee between your thighs as his hands lift to your chin to draw you close. 

Jimin's lips are pillow-soft and tangy-sweet with blood and wine mingling deliciously. He moans as you open your mouth for him, and he eagerly licks inside, tasting and taking like a man starved. 

Blood smears across his neck and into his hair as you pull him close, and he gasps and moans between your lips as his hands begin to untie your modest cloth dress and push it down past your arms, past your hips, to the forest floor. 

"Need you," Jimin growls as his fingertips press harshly into hips and, waist and he lifts one of your legs to rest over his hip. 

He shoves his pants down and in one swift movement, spears you on his hard cock, stretching you with a pleasure-pain that has you sobbing into the night. Jimin fucks you in a rough tangle of balanced limbs, skin slapping desperately against skin, and you clench around him, working yourself up as pleasure unfurls in rich tendrils through your bloodstream. 

Once he cums inside you, there will be no going back. He will belong to you – to the land – and the passage to the other side will open up and swallow him whole.

But his hips still before he reaches his orgasm, and he pulls out and drops to his knees, making you whimper in confusion before clawing at the tree for stability from pleasure the moment he tastes you. Your eager pet was good at mimicking just how greedy and talented Jimin's mouth is, but pales in comparison to the real thing. Jimin hums and moans as his tongue laps at your cunt, devouring you while his fingertips sink into your soft flesh. 

How can you sacrifice something so remarkable? Will the lands forgive you if you keep this one, just this once?

Pleasure builds and breaks suddenly, and you cum on Jimin's tongue, gasping and sobbing into the cool night air as the trees flutter and rejoice all around you. The air is effervescent, filled with power, engulfing and billowing around you, reaching its greedy fingers for your sacrifice as you ride your high, trembling on his soft, kiss-swollen lips.

When Jimin stands, covered in a pink smear of blood and your slick release, he yanks his borrowed white shirt over his head and throws it to the ground. You pull him into a kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth until only faint traces of your essence remain.  

"Please," you whine as you spin and grip onto the tree, rubbing your ass against his throbbing cock. "Please, Jimin."

Never have you needed to be filled with the seed of a sacrifice so badly; never has the oxygen coursing through your bloodstream shimmered opalescent for someone like it does tonight.

Jimin lines himself up with your entrance and wraps one hand around your throat, sinking himself in slowly while manicured fingernails dig into your hip. The pleasure is white-hot intense, quaking through you as you tilt your hips backward, desperate to feel full.

"So tight," he groans as he pulls out and snaps his hips forward. "Been wanting you so bad."

You moan as Jimin slowly pulls out and roughly thrusts in, asking, "Yeah?" when you find that no other words are able to form.

"Feels like I'm going fucking crazy," Jimin groans, slowly pulling back and roughly snapping forward, back and forward, back and forward. "These woods…the blood…what are you doing to me?"

Before you can respond, Jimin's grip on your throat tightens, and he fucks you at a rough, quick pace, forcing air to punch from your lungs as arousal and pleasure ebb and ebb endlessly. 

You scratch at the tree, ripping away chunks of bark while you lean your head against your wrists and try not to collapse under the treacherous, horrifying weight of euphoria as Jimin thrusts hard and deep, filling the night with the sounds of skin against skin and feral, animalistic grunts. 

The hand on your hip reaches down between your legs, and as the pads of Jimin's fingers swirl deliciously over your clit, he growls, "Cum for me" into your ear. 

Your walls pulsate and squeeze, and you follow his command, building and building your pleasure until you can no longer hold back, allowing the floodgates to burst as you cum once more. 

"Fuck, that's it," Jimin moans with a drag of his lips and teeth over your shoulder and neck. "Feels so good. So fucking good. I'm so close."

"Cum inside me," you beg, desperate, squeezing around him with every last ounce of willpower you have.

As if having a sudden moment of clarity pulling him from your spell, Jimin quietly mutters, "Wait…I can't," against your shoulder, dropping his hand from around your throat. 

"You must," you beg, petulance rising as Jimin's hips begin to slow and his whimpers die. 

"What are we…" Jimin mutters softly, "I shouldn't be doing this."

With an exasperated huff, you pull away from Jimin, letting his cock slide out, then spin, resting your back against the tree once more. Jimin's eyes are wide and afraid as he takes you in, and he begins to glance around as if searching for a way out. 

You reach the hand that remains covered in blood and drag it over one of your shoulders, scraping tiny pieces of tree bark against your skin as you tilt your head and say, "Have a taste."

Drawn by the scent of your blood, still under its spell, Jimin leans in close and drags his lips over your skin, chest lightly grazing over your hard nipples, and he hums as it fully takes over his senses once more. Jimin's fingers grip roughly at your hips, and you lift your leg, wrapping it around his hips and pulling him forward as you reach for his hard, slick cock and guide it back inside you. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close while you adjust once more to the stretch – your pussy feeling used and sore. Jimin licks over your skin and begins to move his hips, and when he straightens out and fixes you with his dark gaze, he appears equal parts entranced with bliss, and afraid. 

Jimin's eyes are somewhat absent of their full glaze when he thrusts forward, and you watch as slivers of doubt cast over his features. Although your magic is strong, the will of a man can be difficult to break, even on a holiday such as this, when the ritual is strongest. 

But as you squeeze around him and let your scent of spiced clove and musky wildflowers fill the air, Jimin's pupils blow wide, and he leans forward, dragging his lips and teeth once more over your bloodstained skin.

As he sets a steady pace and chases his high, Jimin begins to suck and nip at your skin, huffing moans and groans while holding your ass firmly in two hands. Your body is tired and sore, back scratched, and hair matted from rough tree bark, but the pleasure overpowers, building like the clouds of an impending storm, thick and foreboding. 

Cross his heart…

"Close," Jimin whimpers, and you tighten your leg around him, keeping him from pulling out as his hips thrust and quake unevenly.

"Come for me, Jimin," you command, sinking your fingernails into his shoulder while your other hand tugs at his soft, silvery hair and holds him close. 

Hope to die…

Jimin mouths at your shoulder and neck, digging nails into your hips so hard you wonder if the skin might break. And then, with a desperate, almost pained groan, Jimin's hips still and then shake, and he fills you with his release. 

Tendrils of fog wrap around each of Jimin's limbs, dancing over his throat, as the passage opens up and begins to swallow the two of you whole. Once he is on the other side, he can be prepared for sacrifice, and in the light of the morning sun, this land can drink of his blood. 

Hang his entrails…

"Good boy," you mutter softly, as Jimin's teeth clamp down weakly, and he sobs through his orgasm, pressing his body into you as it convulses and quakes. "You've done so well."

"What—" Jimin mutters into your skin, then moans deeply as his cock continues to pulse and drain. "I can't s-s-stop."

"Shhh," you whisper softly, stroking blood-slicked silver-blond hair and pulling him close. 

Jimin shivers as the smoke dissipates, skin sweat-sheened and shining in the bright moonlight, and you run your palms up and down his back. His body begins to give out, and he leans his weight into you, dropping slowly to the ground. Around you, the voices of the others – the inhabitants of this side – whisper, sing, and chant. As you assist Jimin to lay on the forest floor, exhausted from his journey to the other side, you kneel and then drape yourself over his chest, playing softly with his hair as you fall fast asleep. 

Bleed him dry…

Dawn breaks as you stand tippy-toe, dangling dripping tissue and sinew from branch to low branch like a holiday garland. 

"Pretty entrails, indeed," you beam as you take a step back, covered in dripping blood, to admire your work. 

"Merry Beltane, Rí," Jimin's rich tenor greets you, just before two strong, warm arms wrap around your bare waist and pull you into a back-hug, skin against skin.

"Merry Beltane, pretty," you respond, turning your head to the side just enough to greet him with a soft, chaste kiss. 

Upstairs, in the inn, a copy of the man sleeps soundly. Today is his last day on the island before his research is concluded, and you pull your nude, love-struck Jimin past the edge of the forest, where you will leave him with one last kiss before shifting the wood to appear normal and free of bloodied guts. 

You bow your head to the land and thank it for the bountiful summer you will undoubtedly receive, then turn your head to the rising sun, and beg it with eyes closed to allow you to be greedy and keep a pet, just this once. At least until the long days shift to long nights, and, on the precipice of Lughnasadh or Samhain, a new eager stranger comes along. 

comments & reblogs are the lifeblood of this site! and likes are nice, too! thank you so much for reading!!!

tags: no tag list for dead dove oneshots.

An Ghealach is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[the-kr8tor]

God ProwlerHobie! my beloved.

All cuts and bruises, strong hands who kill but are so gentle with you that it almost hurts.

Him showing you how to punch, making sure you're safe even when he's not around. He tries to be, he really does. And yet the house is still cold most of the time

Getting roses or flowers randomly delivered at your doorstep, there's no name but do you really need a name to know who they're from by now? (Hell maybe he even goes around learning a bit of flower language just to leave messages w every small bouquet. "I'm sorry" "I miss you" "love you forever")

Prowler Hobie who absolutely still listens and makes punk music. He's unsure as to whether it does get better, but when he's in your arms all bruised up and healing he thinks there might be a small chance to make it out.

You who probably has had to learn so much about first hand care it's unfunny. "S'alright dove" "OH IS IT? YOU HAVE A GUNSHOT WOUND?"

He usually steals mostly for gray/good reasons in my book. But what's a little jewelry theft for his beloved in the end (you would rather he be there, you'd probably trade a whole lot of the jewelry he's given you so he just stays and sticks around longer)

Motorcycle? He's leaning on it and making heart eyes at you as he waits for you to slide your (his) jacket on.

-🪦

We need more prowler Hobie content!! There's so much angst potential and also fluffy stuff!!!!!

I love this hc sm it really screams prowler! Hobie 😍

Ah yes big strong man doesn't give a shit about a gunshot wound even tho he's literally bleeding out (he only cares that you're dirtying your hands with blood) Love this trope sm

The last bit gave me such good visual 🥴🥴 (he's definitely checking you out in his jacket)

[liquid-luck-00]

Marks of Magic

Day 9 Witch of Maribat Spooktober 2023

First *** Previous *** Next

Language and cursing is used

1600 Words

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari didn’t have a clue where she was going to land but she didn’t care. And if her suspicions are correct, she isn’t about to be interrupted, by one of the few people she would rather slap across the face, than talk to. Her coat was warm enough, but she summoned a scarf that she wrapped around her neck, covering her up to her nose. She didn’t know why she actually left, just that something, or someone (the kwamii), wanted her to be somewhere.

She walked through Gotham’s streets and of course she would notice them.

Street kids darted through the alleys and it hurt her heart. There was a reason why she helped Prince Ali often, she loved making the kids smile, she loved them since they reminded her of him. So she went into a dinner and ordered a giant pot of chicken soup, with chopped vegetables. Lugged it back to where she saw one of the braver kids, who was the look out as Jay pointed out to her so long ago.

“Go get the others.” She smiled at him but he just watched her suspiciously. She sighed and set the huge container on a sturdy looking box. "It’s only a little thing but…" She scooped out a serving and handed it to him. "I want to help if I can."

The boy tentatively took the cup of soup, but asked her, probably because of her accent she assumes. "Why do you care, you aren’t from around here?"

"A friend of mine was from here and he…" She doesn’t know how to say it. "He got out, he talked about it a lot, so if I can help in some small way."

"They already know." The boy said and just as he did several children walked out of the shadows. She started handing out cups and the smiles and rosy cheeks that the soup warmed made her smile.

The soup should have run out a long time ago but every child received seconds even thirds in some cases.

She kept pouring Mullo’s magic into it, multiplying its contents, and added a bit of heat to it as well, making sure they were all full.

"Miss?" A little girl, she was tiny and couldn’t be more than 6, tugged at her jacket. "Are you a witch?"

"No, I’m not." She lightly brushed the hair from the girls face.

"But that doesn’t make sense. You have to be."

"And why would that be?" She asked in return, not truly expecting the girls response.

"The soup hasn’t finished and it’s still hot."

Mari blinked. She hadn’t thought it through, sure it was a spur of the moment thing, but she didn’t expect them to notice. But she should have expected it, Jay was always more observant of the world around him them than she was. Maybe it was a street kid thing. They had to constantly be on the lookout, constantly on edge, and no child should have to be in that situation.

She smiled and then whispered to the child. "Yeah, I’m a witch."

The little girl’s eyes went wide before she squealed in joy. "What magic…" She stopped mid sentence and paled.

Mari couldn’t hear the children anymore the little girl beside her seems to be the last one. The others left her behind.

"What do you think you’re up to?" A voice to her left, blocking her into the alley, demanded.

She turned towards the voice slowly, pushing the little girl behind her. "I was only trying to help…"

But she was interrupted. "Bullshit. What are you’re really doing?"

The person stepped into the light. Red Hood, from what she recalled, while she was updating herself on the rogues, stepped forward a gun trained on her. She might be able to get away, but she can’t risk the girl.

She slowly pulled the scarf off behind her, placing it around the little girl, bleeding some of her luck into the cloth.

"Run!" She pulled the little girl onto her back charging at the rogue, who acted almost immediately. So she feigned a right, but at the last second dove to her left springing off the wall.

"Shit!" She heard him collide either with the other wall or the ground she couldn’t tell, but didn’t look back. So she ran as far as she could. Sure she noticed that Red Hood seemed to have a soft spot for kids but she didn’t want to chance it.

She stopped when she found a good place to hide the little girl. She tugged the scarf around the child to warm her a bit better. "Hide. And when you think it’s safe go and find the others. You’ll be okay."

"But what about you? He’s a rogue and… "

"Don’t forget." She tapped the child’s nose. "I’m a witch."

She heard heavy footfalls from somewhere above her. And started to run again. She just has to disappear, and what better way that from up high, so she ascended the first fire escape she found. Then a thought occurred to her.

Maybe… just maybe.

•••

All the kids were running off somewhere and he didn’t like it. Something felt weird and it didn’t sit well with him. So he followed behind a few of them until he spotted them.

A group of kids, there were maybe twenty to thirty kids were in an alley and a woman was with them. She seemed friendly enough but he knows no one is nice without a reason, especially towards street kids; even more so in Gotham.

He moved closer, the woman seemed oblivious he was there, and Mary, he recognized came up to her.

"Miss?" Mary tugged at the woman’s jacket. "Are you a witch?"

"No, I’m not." The woman brushed the hair from Mary’s face.

"But that doesn’t make sense. You have to be."

"And why would that be?"

"The soup hasn’t finished and it’s still hot."

The woman smiled and then whispered, Jason was barely able to hear. "Yeah, I’m a witch."

Jason then took action, it didn’t matter how nice she seemed, she just became a danger to these kids.

"What do you think you’re up to?" He stepped forward and most of the kids scurried away. He pulled out a gun and trained it on her.

The woman turned towards him slowly, pushing Mary behind her. "I was only trying to help…"

But he didn’t let her finish. "Bullshit. What are you’re really doing?" He stepped into the light his gun still trained on her. She seemed to freeze.

Good. She should be scared, for what she was going to do.

"Run!" She shouted as she pulled Mary onto her back charging at him. She ran to his left side, and he tried to get Mary away from her, but she dove to his right springing off the wall.

"Shit!" He crashed into the wall, since he over stepped, without having the extra weight and momentum to spin back.

She was gone, but he had to get the kid back safe. He took to the roof tops to get a better vantage point and that was when he saw her duck into another alley. He was going to jump down, but she had climbed up. He could still see Mary clinging to the woman, but they still ran.

The woman, he has to admit must be agile and in good shape. She has kept the same distance between them and doesn’t slow even when jumping between the roof tops. She’s done this before, and that makes this so much worse.

Then she turned, stopping in the middle of a roof. He looked around and noticed all the warehouses, so they were alone. He pulled out both guns, when the air around her rippled. Mary was gone.

"Where’s the girl?!" He barked, at the unknown woman.

"Safe." She smiled, cocky.

Was she going to go back to where she stashed her.

"You’re not as bad as they say." She hummed.

"And what do they say?" He retorted.

"That you’re bloodthirsty, and will tear anyone to shreds."

"And what if they are right?"

She shrugged, stepping forward. "But you care about the kids. And I know that anyone who does at least has some of their humanity."

"At least you can die, with that idea of me." He cocked the gun still in his hand.

"Before you do, I have a favor."

"And why would I do anything for you?"

She grinned, and for a second he remembered Marinette and her ludicrous ideas that always succeeded, but always started with a similar grin. "I want you to help me kill the stupid fucking clown."

"That’s a bit broad isn’t it?" He hasn’t made it known, his personal grudge against the Joker, so why choose him. It couldn’t be just because of his reputation or even this little test she pulled. No there was something else.

"Fine, Joker, narrow enough for you?" She quirked a brow and he lowered his gun slightly.

"What, you have a personal vendetta against him? You, ain’t from Gotham, Pixie."

"I’m not but a good friend of mine was, and Joker killed him in front of me. So yeah it’s personal." She didn’t back down from him, in fact she stepped forward, stopping just in front of him, extending a hand to him.

"You have to be a witch." He holstered his guns, not shaking her hand just yet.

"Yeah I’m a W.I.T.C.H." Her eyes sparked, reminding him of his old friend. "A Woman In Total Control of Herself."

That grin was back on her face, but with that Jason couldn’t help but trust her.

"Fine I’m in."

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop @starling218

[tarpitbell]

October 12, Sunday (morning).

In sickness and in health, I’ll always be by your side

(MWAH!) I wanna suck dry your spicy tears (Please, I want you. Let me comfort you, shake shake, with the talent of love) , save your dissected heart (If you don't cry, I'll dry up, I want to stay wet). —Monitoring, DECO*27

Hello!

This is my revamped intro post!

This sideblog was made by @sotogalmo for venting purposes, but this will also just be more exploring who I am, finding some terms that might fit and such, along with things I'm uncomfortable with posting on my main (ranfren mainly, but also with some Hetalia posts, etc).

Almost a lot of my posts would be me wondering about my identity (therian, otherhearted, copinglink, etc for example) — I follow from @sotogalmo . Do know that I'm trying my own way of healing along with any time I can go to therapy. My New Year's resolution for 2025, is to be kinder and the first step is to be kinder to myself.

Please refer to me, if you were to ever talk to me— as.. anything befitting for me. I don't mind as I will accommodate to that role for you (but don't use living language to refer to me. I am a being, but not fully alive; a dream, if that makes sense)

^ if this doesn't work out or make sense, use she/him/he/her on me.

I might even think I have other mental illnesses. But I'll make sure of that with my therapist (I most definitely have some sort of derealization/depersonalization of sorts, I heavily might have BPD, depression of a weird kind, etc. but I'm settling for the fact that I'm just a weird girl)

I separate a lot of my feelings to be their own characters. And then those characters would be then influenced by other characters. And then they just become different parts of me. That's why I use their names and such (most notable is Kel from OMORI)

I heavily relate to winged cats, Maine coon cats, dogs?, bleeding heart doves, Garrett Schmidt, Satoru Tsukada, sensations of being a robot, Satan from Obey Me, Itzusumi from Dungeon Meshi, Luka ALNST, There Is Something About Amy! (Series) Amy Rose, maids, dreams and especially Geno Sans from the comic Aftertale. Sometimes I will say "me" when you refer to a character (canon character or your own oc it's only because I heavily relate to them and they have shaped me as a being- which I will project onto them). I might relate to characters you hate (Alnst Luka is one of them I believe).

A warning: I am emotionally apathetic, I am used to many gross and scary things, I am forgetful. But I am also obsessive and generally unpleasant to be around.

I selfship, I write x readers (one in drafts)

The closest to my robotic/maid feelings is VYT-24 by VIVINOS

[sanscat0414]

Last call

Hawks x Hero Reader

Scenario: You got caught up in a clasping building, heavily injured and the only thing you wanted was to have a call with your favor bird man. Only this was your last call to him.

Masterlist

————————————————————————

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Click*

“Hey, Dove! What’s up?”

You smiled at hearing his voice. You mustered up the most energy you can to sound normal.

“Nothing, just miss you.”

He laughed, God that laugh, its as sweet as honey, something you’ll never get tired of hearing no matter how long you and Hawks had been together.

“I miss you too.” He cooed.

“How’s your day?” You asked as you stared down to you blood covered abdomen with your hand applying as much pressure as you can.

“You know, this that, some borrrrning paper is work. I should have just taken it home and did it there.” He whined.

You smile imagining his cute grumpy face as he complain about work.

“Kei~”

“Yeah?”

You knew there was no hope for you. You’re stuck under rubble and there’s no chance for anyone to find you in time. At least you get to hear him one last time.

“Can you sing for me? I wanna hear your voice.”

“Of course any thing for you.”

You close your eyes listening intently to his voice. He started humming a song and then fully singing it. A song you recognize oh so fondly, it your song together, a song you coined to perfectly describe your relationship together, Best Part by H.E.R. You can’t help but smile listening to soothing voice of Hawks. Sure he no professional singer but his voice always calmed you even now when your near your end.

“That was great love. You should be a singer.”You joked.

“Why thank you~ but this voice only works for you.”

“Way my name won’t you?”

“Only if you say my name too~”

“Keigo~” you said full heartedly with a sweet tone.

“______, my baby bird.”

You giggle, of for it hurt, but it’s worth it. You loved him with all your soul, you didn’t want him to worry about you, at least not right now.

“I don’t want to keep you long.”

“Okay, I love you. And thanks hearing from you made this boring day a lot better.”

“I.. I love you too, more than you’ll ever now Keigo. So much.” You said as tears started to run down your face.

“Talk to you later, Dove.”

“Yeah, Goodbye Kei. Love you.”

*Click*

You let out laughed to yourself, thinking how cruel the world can be. You promised him, you promised each other to be together forever. Here you are under a broken building struggling to even move anymore wishing more than anything to be with him. To hold him and to cherish him. To make silly jokes together. So many things you wish you can still do with him.

You wonder what the world would be like without you as you bleed out. You’re sad knowing how much you’ll hurt him when you’re Gone. You hate seeing him down in the dumps. Imagining him so devastated after finding out made you feel guilty. Hawks will be the last thing you ever thought of and the last person to ever hear you. You looked at your phone, now very cracked but still useable. You shakily held it to record one last message before you fell limp.

———

Something felt off to Hawks. That goodbye didn’t sit with him right, along with that wobble in your voice when you said you loved him.

“They’re fine, I’m probably worried over nothing… right?” He said to himself.

He thought he’s probably just over analyzing, but then again he over analyzes everything about you. Your voice, your beauty, your personality, everything that many you so charming to him. Still he could not shake that sinking feeling in his heart.

He couldn’t sit still and was bout to go look for you, knowing you where you go on patrols when a call came in. He was anoyed but still answered.

“Yes?”

“We need you here, there’s a collapse building and we want to find any survivors.”

Though he was no rescue hero, his quirk was always handy when it came to fining survivors beneath rubble so he does get the occasional call from rescue heros to help.

“Okay send me the location and I’ll be there in a flash”

His eyes widened when he saw the location. It was were you were patrolling that day. That feeling he got earlier in the day just got worse and he rushed out of his office as quick as he could worried sick about you.

Once he was there he was filled in by the other heros. Apparently this was caused by a villain but they couldn’t find them yet. Hawks asked if anyone has seen you since he knew you somewhere closed. They didn’t which made more anxious than before. He’s praying, hoping you’re safe. He tried to call you.

*Ring*

*Ring*

‘Come on baby please answer.’ He thought as he sent out of feathers to help look for survivors.

*Ring*

“Hi, this is H/N! I’m currently working so I won’t be able to answer your call! Sorry if you need anything please call my agency.”

You didn’t answer and Hawks was growing increasingly more concerned that you were bought up into the rubble.

He was able to find many survivors but not you. He felt a clearing under the rubble though his feathers but nothing seemed to be in their until he felt something soft as his feather rushed. Around the clearing.

“Hey! There’s a gap over here, there might be someone trap under,” Hawks called out as he carefully pulled some stones away.

After a few minutes work of him and some heros, they were able to see inside. Hawks heart sunk as soon as he saw the sight. You were leaning on a still standing pillar, unmoving and a slash wound on your stomach. One hand holding a cracked phone, the other hold on to your stomach. Hawks dived in to grab you but you felt cold.

“Baby?” He said softly in disbelief.

He held you tight not caring about the blood or the fact there is other heros were there watch him with pity. He started to cry holding your limp body.

“No…: no ______ why…. Why did it have to be you…” he hugged you close so close.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Hawks.” One of the heros said “At least now we found them.”

“And we found the villain too.” Another said looking across form where you laid to see the villain’s body crushed under the rubble infront of you.

“Common let’s get them out first this place is dangerous.” The hero said placing here hand on Hawks shoulders.

Hawks was silent but nodded.

One they were out of the area, Hawks held you for along time before someone pried him off of you. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t accept you were gone. He had your phone you were holding with you, still had the cute chicken charm he gave you hang on it. He turned on the thankfully still working phone, first thing to pop up after being unlocked was a recording app. He opened the last thing that was recorded.

“Hey… if someone find this. It’s a message for Hawks... it’s private so this is only for him.”

He could hear how exhausted you sound in the recording, realizing it was probably your last words.

There as a long pause before you said something again.

“Birdie…. I’m sorry. I broke our promise. Please don’t be sad. Thank you for singing to me earlier, it really helped with the pain. Smile for me will ya?”

He could stop his tears, it was then it click in his mind. That was your last goodbye to him. Even in your last moments you were on his mind.

There were so many questions in his mind “why didn’t you tell me… why didn’t you ask for help…. Why couldn’t I tell that you were dying…. Why didn’t I….”

Hawks stood there for along time crying to himself. Finaly he muster all his emotions together just to smile.

“I’m smiling… just for you… Dove. Wherever you are.” He said broken and shaken.

Finally he walked off, going back to a now cold apartment with surrounded by everything you both owned. Everything a reminder of you which he will never get rid of because he wanted to keep you alive in his own way.

“I.. miss you already.” He said as he plopped himself on your side of your shared bed taking in your scent as he cried himself to bed.

[g0ttal0ve101]

Sam <3

[a/n]: you can’t GUESS how old they are ❤️ tw: stalking, sexual references.

I can’t live without him.

Sam stared at those words for a long while. The black pen that once gracefully slid across the paper left a big blotch in the middle of the letters “OUT” in “without.” Now it looked more like —

I can’t live with him.

It was a strange coincidence. Even then, Sam couldn’t bring himself to recognize it as such. In his eyes, this was just another example of his misfortune, since the message would now be conveyed completely wrong to whomever read it in the future. He had gone through his whole journal now. This was the last page. Therefore, all of this was piling up in his mind and making him more pissed off than ever before.

Shutting the cover and tossing his pen back into its cup, he sighed heavily and stood to go flop on his mattress. He hated whenever he messed up in his journal. It was supposed to be as exact as possible since it was dedicated to him.

Decorated on the front with impressive cursive letters and various stickers in the form of hearts, doves, flowers, and cupids, was his name written in bold — Thomas Gabriel Hall. It made him giddy to think he was the only one who knew of his middle name, even giddier when he started to ponder what other names his parents had in mind. He wanted to know that, too.

There wasn’t a lot that Sam didn’t have checked out on his list of MUST KNOW things, but still a couple rounds. The one that bothered him the most was the identity of his biological mother. He didn’t have a picture or even a name to put in that category. The rest of the bloodline was sorted out though, all the way up to his great, great, great grandparents. Sometimes when he was bored, he’d compare their features to Thomas just to see where he got his beauty from. It turns out that his father, Adrian Hall, hit the genetic jackpot. In other words, his mother must’ve been a beauty to create a perfect facial structure like Thomas.

But that was neither here nor there. Sam wanted to bang his head against the wall, slit his wrists, and bleed out slowly from how much misery that boy put him in. After practically begging for Lindsey to give him a solid answer, he found out that Thomas caught the flu and would be out of school for the next week. Upon hearing that, Sam thought he might die right then and there. Of course he got sick the day after they had a big fight. God worked that way. So now Sam was forced to cope with Thomas’s absence, his illness, and their petty argument.

Petty was the best way to describe it. Putting cameras in your boyfriend’s bedroom shouldn’t be such a big deal. Maybe he snuck one in the shower too, but it wasn’t like he was a creep or anything. Anybody in their right mind would like to watch their boyfriend shower.

It was cute to see him get water in his eyes.

Smiling to himself from just the mere thought, Sam bit his nails so much that he began to bleed. He thought about pulling his computer up and watching the clips he had downloaded again, but…

“Delete all of that shit!”

Sam bit his lip thinking about it. It wasn’t very often that Thomas raised his voice at him like that, but when he did, it did numbers to him. His entire body felt warm and fuzzy thinking about the pure terror and disgust in his eyes, the warm sensation of actually getting that boy to feel anything. Sam had done it. Sam made him drop that stupid facade and actually act on emotion.

Grabbing his phone, Sam dialed his number again. He already had it saved, but he wanted to test his memory out to see if he still remembered. He did.

After a few rings, the line dropped. Sam called again. Again, another drop. He called again. Then, finally…

“Sam—!”

“H-Hey, baby. Are you okay? Lindsey told me you were s…that you were s-s…sick.”

The soft buzzing of the cellular device rang through Sam’s ear as he awaited a response. After a moment or two, he could hear Thomas breathing sharply on the other line.

“Can you call me back…?”

“N-No! I wanna know how y…ou’re doing!”

“I’m doing fine, okay?”

“N-No fever?”

“No…”

“What is it? Your sinus? Your tummy?”

“A little bit of everything, I guess. Now—!”

“I-I could make you something and b…bring it over, if you wa-a-ant! Anything you want!”

Again, a long pause. Sam could still hear him breathing heavily, only a little quieter this time. He listened intently with wide eyes. Even his breathing patterns were cute to him.

“…Sam, this is really not a good time.”

“Who do you have over?”

“Wh-What?”

Sam clutched at his hair, tugging it a little as he tried to keep himself from getting in trouble again. He already acted out enough last night, he didn’t want Thomas to get more upset. Then again, the anger that bubbled up inside him from the thought of someone else sucking his dick pushed him to the edge.

“I called you twice. The last one hung up earlier than the first. You h-hung up on me. Then, you decided to pick up this time. So, who’s over there right now?”

“Baby, nobody’s over. I’m sicker than a dog right now.”

“You’re lying.”

“Sam…”

“You never call me baby unless you’re trying to comfort me or persuade me. If nobody was over, you would’ve just called me Sam. So, I’m gonna ask you again. Who’s up there with you?”

Thomas groaned. His vocal cords sounded angelic against his eardrums. “Okay. I’m still pissed from last night, so I called Anna over. I’m sorry.”

“And she’s sucking you off right now?”

Almost panicked, Thomas started rambling. “No! She’s…she’s going home right now.”

“No, that’s al-alright. I’m not m…m…mad. I just…I need you to tell me you won’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry.”

His apologies were adorable. Sam knew all too well why he was apologizing — because as soon as this call was over and she left that house, that little whore would be no more.

“Sam, come on. Don’t do anything to her.”

“Why? You l-l-l-like her?”

“No. Her parents are rich and they’re gonna poke around way more than you think. I can only cover your ass so much.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit.”

Sam sat up from his bed, feeling himself getting antsy again. As much as he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to knock his teeth down his throat, too. “I-It is bullshit and you know it! You had multiple police officers, teachers, fuck, even judges go silently. You can do it with some fuck ass b-blonde bitch too.”

“Sam…”

“…Don’t worry about it anymore.”

Sam could hear him shifting in his bed from the distant sound of the mattress creaking and sheets moving, sighing heavily into the microphone. It sent chills down Sam’s spine.

“I’m tired. Can we just…talk things out tomorrow?”

“I can always c-come over now.”

“No, Sam. I need space.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. Well, love you, Sammy. Get some sleep too so we can see each other bright and early tomorrow, okay?”

“You’ll show up to school?”

“You’ll show up to my house if I don’t.”

Sam giggled and bit the tip of his thumb. “You’re so c-cute…”

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye.”

Sam tried to say bye back, but he hung up too early. That was fine. Since Sam had his whole nightly routine memorized, he knew that he was heading for the shower next before going to sleep. With that in mind, he snatched the laptop off his desk and hurriedly pulled up the live footage from the other camera he hid inside the room, eagerly waiting for his arrival.

[sweetestlittledarling]

Because I enjoy thinking about these things:

My Analysis of my second Tav: Willow (She/Her) Halfling Nature Cleric or Yondalla.

(all of these templates come from the wonderful Halkuonn on Kofi: Support Halkuonn on Ko-fi! ❤️. ko-fi.com/halkuonn - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.)

So, to start off Wilow's has a lot of connection to the sun (her Halfling name meaning 'Bringer of the dawn') so her colors often reflect that in a lot of golds and sunrise colors. Plus, I love her in the gold armor in game. Her plant again connects to the sun with a sunflower and her animal is the morning dove.

Her scent I decided is an early morning thing (take that as you will) and her song is 'You are My Sunshine' by Christina Perri (which is a little on the nose, but it is a pretty song, and it makes me think of her mother). Her spell is Guiding Bolt which I used...a lot.

Now on to the relationships:

Originally, I had Haslin in mind for Willow but for some reason she felt drawn to Astarion as well pulling the vampire into a loving poly relationship that is both beautiful and probably gives him the most stress of his life.

Alright so starting off, Halsin is the most extroverted out of the bunch followed by Willow who is kind of a ambivert at times. Astarion is very much an introvert, most of the time not even wanting to be touched by many people. He often times needs his own space which his lovers are willing to give him.

Haslin is probably the most agreeable with Willow not far behind. Again, i feel Astarion is at the other end of the spectrum but that is a good thing because I feel him being argumentative is his way of reminding his lovers (who are both bleeding hearts) that they don't have to stick out their necks for everyone and that they need to protect themselves as much as everyone else. It's part of his love language.

I feel the most protective person is Halsin, literal papa bear. Both Willow and Astarion are a little more chill understanding each other's strengths and having faith in each other (which is not to say Haslin doesn't I just think his animal nature sometimes is a little more forceful).

Astarion is the most secretive (trauma related) while Haslin is the most outspoken not really seeing the need to keep secrets. Willow is in the middle being willing to tell her lovers everything though at times being a bit more a secret keeper of omission (like not letting anyone know that her adopted father is a dwarven billionare and having sisters).

Astarion of course is more formal, loving the fancier thing in life. I do think that Haslin is not accustomed to the fancy things but he's not against them (maybe enjoying a bit though needing to get back to nature soon to recharge that half of himself). Willow is kind of weird because she grew up a bit fancy, so she gets a bit ichy being forced back into that life.

Haslin and Willow both are kind of the middle for gifts vs favors while I think Astarion is more a gift kind of guy, maybe something shiny.

Astarion is more a quiet music guy though on occasion has been known to dance to a jig. The same with Haslin. Willow leans into the fun side of music.

Haslin I think is more a brawl person, not to say he doesn't have brains as he had a great one but his more animal nature, I think comes out in a bit more of defensive kind of way. Astarion and Willow on the other hand both are in the brain side, Willow a bit more so as she takes her time where as Astarion can get a bit frustrated when he doesn't think people are listening.

Willow and Haslin both are PDA people and enjoy snuggling while Astarion again sometimes needs his space, though in private he is a bit more loving and affectionate then he is in public.

Astarion is hot, no doubt about it while Haslin and Willow often fall into the cuter. I put Haslin there because while I believe he is built hot his attitude and love are 'cuter'.

Finally, all of them are kinky for the most part, especially with the bear XD.

And that is Willow <3

[sillydeimos]

I'm back to thinking about winged au

Still don't know what wings Sanford would have, but I did remember bleeding-heart doves exist. Thoughts on those for Jeb?

-💻🌌

ohhh yeah bleeding heart doves! those would look great on jeb!

theres a lot of different answers we could do for sanford, i feel. right now ive been considering owl wings or something? i kinda like the idea of him with brown pattern wings....

[elvisabutler]

Miss girl!!! I was looking at the old old red carpet pictures of Olivia in the turquoise dress with Austin and it made me think of little dove and how if they hadn’t spoken since the end of filming/occasional red carpet - how does she feel watching his career now? and his girlfriends? and how he looks like a superstar now but he used to just look like a pretty, sweet boy?

curious to what we're talking about? click here for the little dove verse.

MISS GIRL. god no one ever calls me that anymore. it's always MISS MA'AM. you've won me over and forced me to give you my heart for that. and thus get an answer

okay! so. the infamous well if they never got back together sort of timeline/idea. see, when eurus and i first came up with this au she was always more of the girl who did it where they never came back together/spoken that sort of thing. but in the time since then i have thought about it. and it's truly sort of the basis of this au i once got asked about where they come back together 10 years in the future.

and here's the thing, she'd be proud of him. for all of the mess that would be attached to their relationship in her mind, she'd still care for him and be so proud he's doing so well. because there was pillow talk about where to go in their careers before the character bleed really took hold. and she'd know he wanted to do more work and the producer element. she'd know all this and she'd be the first person who read the article and went that's my boy. wouldn't post about it, probably. but she'd be so unbelievably proud. though, she'd be jealous of the girlfriends. like she'd try not to be, but she fell so hard and deep for him- even if she thinks when they break up it's just the bleed from playing priscilla. that seeing him be in love with someone else? that stings a lot. lily was a lot. and then kaia is a lot and just. she tries to not dwell on it too much.

as for him looking like a superstar? um. let's just say she perhaps enjoys the videos from like the ysl campaign a bit too much and generally swoons a lil seeing him on occasion. it also makes her step her game, oddly enough? like call it being competitive, call it wanting to make herself more equal to him? it's weird. she really just wants to get that same sort of glow up. like used to be sweet little girl ( who has those rumors chasing her ) and now look at her being a superstar queen.

so basically proud as punch but also jealous and a bit you could be the king but watch the queen conquer vibes for her own life.

[a-rogue-god]

Dove (mostly Dove/John ship) lore master post GOOOO

Things are subject to change ofc when I learn more about Shoreside and we're given more information with new episodes.

General information ofc

She/they/he basically any! She's bigender so some days she leans toward a more masculine look or more feminine look. Gender at birth is ambiguous. I don't know where I lean. Both appeal to me and exist simultaneously. Shrodingers gender. Bisexual/pansexual :]

5 foot 5 inches tall (almost a foot shorter than John at 6'4")

She's 25 years old, birthday: 5/12/1998 (using the day I first ever talked about the concept of her, may 12th! 1998 since I asked when shoreside is set, and it's set in 2023, time just yknow catches up on you when you make things so in 2023 shes 25. John is 35 in 2023 so this makes him 10 years older than her)

She lives in Florida around the Daytona Beach area with her grandparents! I imagine she's originally from another state (coughs. Pennsylvania) but probably got sent down to Florida to be raised by her grandparents due to some shitty parent drama ofc.

She works in the local library with her grandmother. Does all the running around putting books away that the older librarians can't do. Outside of that she also helps her grandparents around the house. Very helpful woman. Does a lot of the yard work, puts up Christmas lights. She'd be unassumedly strong for how she looks imo.

Some of her hobbies include jogging, writing, drawing, reading, baking. Kind of asocial until you get to know her, then she's a silly fellow. Sarcastic by nature, but harmless. I named her after bleeding heart doves, and which bleeding heart can kind of be used to describe her. Very soft hearted and kind most of the time which can be detrimental lol. Lol. (Her working with John probably makes her morals more aligned with his overtime, changing her personality slightly to be more similar)

Uh. Random facts: She has really bad eyesight. Has an old fat orange cat actually named Garfield funnily enough. Shades of blue are her favorite colors. She smells sweet. Carries uh. A sketchbook, other miscellaneous note taking stuff. Always has candy on her hajfjsjdj favorite animals include ofc pigeons, cats, axolotls, snakes. Her music taste is very all over the place, she likes Frank Sinatra and other that era crooners thanks to her grandparents, while also enjoying hard rock music, metal, pop, some techno, punk. Her faaaavorite TV show is Twin Peaks. Good lord she can't shut up about it. Has a crush on Dale Cooper.

Rest under cut for length reasons. Some shoreside spoilers.

In 2011, when the massacre happened and pieces of people were washing up on beaches, Dove was ~13 at the time and remembers seeing that shit in person on the beaches of Daytona, and all over the news. Traumatizing! But puts a want to understand what's Going On till adulthood. Probably has a phobia about the ocean! Hahaha:)

I've been playing with the idea of maybe doves grandparents being involved in the house club? But I don't think they would be!

when she hits adulthood, and specifically in her 20s, she puts effort into researching this shit in her free time.

(A lot of this is speculation and not knowing shit after this)

The first time she meets John Gein (outside of seeing him on the TV back in 2011 when he used to work for CNN) in person, I'm sure it was because she was probably trespassing somewhere she shouldn't be while he was investigating the area simultaneously where he runs into her. First it's of course all suspicion and you can't be here, and he kicks her out.

She being the stubborn woman she is, she keeps showing up and keeps having run-ins with John who, out of some begrudging admiration for her dedication to discover things, reluctantly lets her begin helping him with the shit he's more interested in, and not the goals of the company he's working for.

(He's both relieved and annoyed that Dove doesn't want payment. Yaay he doesn't have to pay her and ugh. Unpaid labor. That's okay John the only thing she wants is you to pay for both of you when you go out to eat and discuss the things you've discovered)

They probably met and began this whole thing maybe a couple years before the events in 2023, maybe 2020 idk? She'd be just out of college. At first they're just uneasy acquaintances, but eventually as they continue working together, they become friends (as they grow closer you just KNOW dove is sending him silly memes. The more weird the better), the two warming up to each other. They both greatly appreciate each other and enjoy being in the other's company, at some point both crossing a "i have romantic feelings for you but neither of us have admitted this yet" threshold where their friendship holds a more tender feeling, where they begin sharing drinks ("one large strawberry milkshake please. No we don't need two, just one for the two of us please! :]") and what not.

Everyone assumes they're dating at this point. They're not yet, but ofc dove gets teased relentlessly by her grandparents. ("Ooohhh Doveee your boyfriend is here!!" "He's not- not my boyfriend." cue very amused John look. "Oh make sure you're being safe and protected!" Wink wink nudge. "MOM-MOM PLEASE.")

Do they love each other? Of course they do. I think it would inevitably be John to say he loves her first. He'd probably say it while she's panicking about something and being worried so he decides to like. Catch her off guard and get it off her mind via kissing her, which works! Works very well because sure enough she can only focus on him holding her, cupping her face and letting her know he loves her and not to worry about whatever she was freaking out about. Yaaaay entering the actually dating now era yippeeee

Cue them now actually doing couple things outside of their working together... John gifting her sweet things like flowers, candy. Gets her a little pigeon plushie because it reminded him of her. (That plush will now be cuddled to death when she sleeps alone bc of him jfjsjfjsj) Dove's grandparents would probably trust John so much they'd give him a key to their house to let himself in to see Dove whenever tbh. Sometimes he lets her know when he's coming, othertimes not so. Showing up while she's not expecting him and jumpscaring her a lot hahaha. I'm sure he finds it funny (he does). That's fine you keep jumpscaring her like that John, well fuck you get your hat STOLEN loser! Yoink! Ope girl now you're getting grabbed and hoisted into his arms and- ooohh they're cute together actually hehehe

Their relationship is very equal despite the 10 year age gap ("MYS THATS BAD" - they are two consenting adults. It's fine. 35 isn't old. Leave me alone), Dove, unfortunately, would probably be too dedicated to him even as he kind of becomes more uh. Crazy? Ig I can use that to describe it. Not seeing anything wrong with him harassing Noah Risse for answers, only kind of at least being mad at John's attitude toward Porter's and Bryan's deaths and John being fired for it, but being just as eager to get the information they want. Would definitely help him kill someone if she had to. Hah. (Idk why I enjoy the idea of him teaching her how to shoot his gun. Yknow. Just in case. No reason! :] )

Um. I don't know what else to add. If you read this and have questions about her feel free to reply/shoot me an ask.