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marwritesgood · 2 years

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Stepping on the Last Train

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Summary: Tensions in the Hopper household come to a peak when El runs away under Y/n's supervision.

series masterlist // main masterlist

A/N: this is a side-story (though technically a back-story) to my Steve series, Cardigan. i recommend reading the first two parts of the main storyline, if you haven't already, for better context.

September 18th, 1978

Sara let out a tired yawn as her older sister read the last sentence of her favourite storybook. The hospital bed was the least bit comforting, nothing at all like her bed at home. Sara frowned as her sister closed the book shut.

"The end," Y/n sighed, relieved one of the longest days of her life was finally coming to an end.

Between school, her neglected chores and the daily trips to the hospital, she had barely any time to sleep. Even when she did catch a break, she never could go to sleep. Not when her baby sister was sitting in a cold gloomy hospital room, their parents both a mere shell of the lively people they once were.

Some nights, Y/n would dream the four of them were all dancing in the living again. Her stepping on her dad’s toes as her mum lifted Sara up in the air. On those nights, she could not help but wish she could sleep and dream that forever.

Y/n turned to place the book down on the chair beside the bed, but Sara grasped her arm and stopper her. She huffed, knowing where this was going.

"Again," the little girl spoke softly.

Her big sister's voice was a significant upgrade from the hospital ambiance and the annoying beeps from the heart monitor. The older girl sighed. Those days, it felt like everyone wanted more from her than what little she had left to give.

"No, Sara, I'm really tired."

The young girl pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and staring up at her sister until her eyes watered. She had gone from almost always having her way to not having any say at all. It wasn't fair, they both thought.

"Pleeease, Y/n," she pleaded, weakly grasping onto her sister’s forearm.

Y/n frowned, her heart sinking. Sara huffed defeatedly as her sister leaned in and kissed her temple apologetically.

"It's getting late, Sara bear,” Y/n whispered with a weak smile. Time was no one’s friend in the hospital. “- We should really get some sleep.”

As Y/n shift the hospital bedsheets to sit up, the faint sound of her father's voice could be heard. Her eyes shot up to the silhouette of her parents through window, as their conversation in the corridor escalated just as it always did.

"I'm doing everything I can!”

Hopper threw his hands up in frustration which only infuriated his wife more. Livid, she inched closer with a deathly glare and a horrified expression.

"What, and I'm not?!"

Y/n winced and instantly looked down to Sara. Their parents fighting had become routine now, but she knew that didn’t stop the youngest Hopper from trembling in fear every time.

Y/n shifted back into her original spot and wrapped her arms around her baby sister. What was one more late night, she told her. Sara already had her fair share of things to worry about.

"Let's read it one more time, ok?”

Sara sniffled and looked up to her big sister, nodding her head as she tried to bring herself to smile. Y/n frowned before leaning in and kissing her temple softly. She opened the book to the first page again and made a point of raising her voice and doing extra goofy character voices to drown out the sound of her parents.

***

December 20th, 1983

Y/n gulped down a mouthful of soda as she studied her father from across the room. He said goodnight Eleven and carefully closed shut to the door that Y/n guessed would now be her bedroom.

Once he turned to approach the kitchen table, Hopper met his daughter's hard gaze with glazed over eyes riddled with guilt. He was grateful she waited until he sat down opposite her before ripping him a new one. El needed a decent night's sleep, among so many other things.

His daughter huffed, surrendering the death grip she had on her soda can. How was he so calm and casual about something that impacted their day-to-day lives massively? Y/n leaned in and glared at him with knitted brows.

“What the hell, dad?”

She spoke in hushed tone, yet her voice still projected with a piercing sharpness. Hopper sighed. He knew his daughter well enough to suspect she would not take the news of El moving well. Even so, he couldn't help but hope it bode over a hell of a lot more smoothly.

“Listen, bug, I know-“

Y/n scoffed, cutting whatever explanation he had short.

“Look, I get that she’s alone and needs a safe place to stay," she reasoned. "- but you can’t just take in a child we only met a few weeks ago and just expect me to be on board.”

Hopper pursed his lips as his posture slumped. That was a fair point, one he had always been aware of but chose to overlook. It was easy to do when El looked up at him the way she did.

“I know it’s a big change-"

"It's a massive change," Y/n corrected.

This was a much bigger deal than bringing in a stray cat. Eleven was an entire person who needed and deserved more than what Y/n had been just barely getting by with that last few years.

Hopper leaned back against his chair and ran his hand over his mouth. After a moment's deliberation, he turned to his daughter once more. Y/n felt uneasy as he looked to her with pleading eyes. She knew then he was not going to give up easy, and that only made her feel worse.

"I just thought that maybe after all she's done and all she's been through…” Hopper shook his head, unable to even fathom just how much that little girl had endured.

He looked to his daughter and sighed once more. They could go back and forth all night about what it was that led him to making such a rash decision. However, ultimately, Hopper's reasoning was simple.

“She needs me, bug.”

Y/n winced. Finally, she was able to put her finger on what it was that made her so uneasy. In one chance encounter in the woods, Hopper dropped everything to bring El home. In one encounter, he made the call to step into her life and be a parent with seemingly little hesitation.

Where had this version of him been for the last few years?

Hopper reached out and placed his hand atop Y/n's, causing her to jump. He waited until she finally looked back before pressing further.

“She needs us.”

Y/n stared blankly at him. She blinked a few times then moved her hand away. This was not a movie, or some storybook tale. There were very real factors to account for and very real considerations to make. He needed a cold hard reality check, Y/n told herself.

"You work first thing in the morning and show up drunk in the middle of the night almost every night, dad,.” Y/n’s voice was calm and level, which sent chills down her father’s spine.

He didn’t feel like the parent in their conversation. He felt like a kid sitting in the principal’s office. Y/n sat back and narrowed her eyes, only heightening that very feeling.

"Do you really think your guardianship is what she needs right now?"

Hopper scoffed defensively.

"Hey, now that's not fair.”

He wasn’t new to the parenting scene. Sure, it had been just him and Y/n for a while and sure, he had been asleep at the wheel for a while too. But he was still a parent.

Y/n eyes only narrowed further.

"It isn’t?"

She licked her lips and swallowed thickly. She knew she was in the right, but that did not stop the guilt from creeping in. Maybe there was a nicer way of going about it. Maybe she was being a bit harsh.

Y/n dismissed that train of thought immediately. If not for Eleven’s sake, then it would be for hers. She already had her hands full trying to keep the lights running with just herself and Hopper. Adding another kid into the mix would only complicate things further and Y/n knew if things went south she would be the one to have to step up.

Lord knows he father knew nothing about doing that.

"Look, I don't want El to be out on the streets, but... and I'm not trying to be cruel,” she had to make sure he knew. “I just… I don't see how she's gonna be better off here."

Hopper’s stomach sank as he struggled to think of a decent retort. There was none. Their kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes, half-empty pizza boxes and a plethora of empty and almost-empty beer bottles. Their living room was no improvement. Old boxes Hopper had moved out of the spare room to make space for El, piles of policework and cigarette burns all over their sofa.

Y/n pressed further, though she suspected he was already getting the hint.

“I mean… how do you plan to look after her when you've barely been able to look after yourself the past few years?"

Much less her, the person he was already responsible for.

Y/n had to look away and excuse herself from the table. If she stayed and kept looking at him, she knew she was either going to scream or cry hysterically. Waiting for him to come to his senses was pointless, but she always struggled to resist doing it.

She was still his daughter, after all.

Hopper heard Y/n’s bedroom door close and leaned forqard again, this time putting his head in his hands and lettig out a quiet groan. What had he done? What had he gotten himself into.

Y/n words echoed through his head as he tried to figure out the best way around it. He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to reach for the whiskey he kept in the kitchen cabinet. She was right, he realised.

He hated that she was right.

Balling his hands into a fist, Hopper glanced over once more to the pile of dirty dishes among the mess that was the kitchen. That was one way to start. He let out a huff and then got up from his chair and approached the mess, turning the faucet on and making a start on what he knew would be a long journey and an ongoing process.

If for nothing else, then it was to make sure Y/n thought of him as more than a drunken deadbeat.

***

October 31st, 1984

El looked up to Y/n with glossy eyes and pouted, her shoulders slumping defeatedly. She knew it was a long shot, but Y/n always came to the rescue when El had disagreements with Hopper. She did not thing she was asking for much.

Y/n sighed and glaced past her little sister. She could just make out Steve’s car pulling up to front of the cabin. As much as she hated disappointing El, Y/n did not want to get caught in the crossfire.

"That's Steve. I have to go now.”

She sped past the pouty young girl and reached for her bag from the kitchen table. Before she could make it to the door, El raced to block her path, this time with her hands clutched together pleadingly. That was new.

"Y/n, please,” El cried.

One night. All she wanted was one night out of the cabin doing somethings kids her age were doing. Something Mike was probably doing, though she would never know for sure because of Hopper’s stupid rules. Y/n frowned.

"I'm sorry, El, Hopper already said no."

Usually, Y/n could not care less what Hopper had to say, but when it came to El he was an otherworldly kind of strict. If Hopper banned Steve from coming over for a week after she missed her curfew twice in a row, Y/n dreaded imagining what he would do if she took her little sister out.

"I never leave," El complained, her brows knitting together as her frustration reached an all-time high. If Y/n was not going to take her side, what were the chances that anything was going to be different?

"C'mon, you know I don't agree with him, but I can't just-"

"Please, Y/n.”

Y/n froze for a moment. El sounded different. She didn’t sound like a kid throwing a tantrum because her dad wasn’t letting her go and play.

She sound like a kid who desparately wanted a break. She sounded like someone who needed their big sister. She sounded like Sara. That was enough for Y/n to give in.

"Go put on your costume."

El didn’t need to be told twice before bolting to her room and coming back out with the white bed sheet she had cut out holes into. Y/n could not help but smile as she opened the door for her and followed her out to where the BMW parked.

Steve had been waiting outside, leaning back against the hood of his car. As El came racing out towards him, he instantly stood straight and embraced her as she hugged him excitedly. Y/n smiled nervously as he looked to her in confusion.

"What's going on?"

Y/n shoved her house keys back into her bag and crossed her arms anxiously. It was too late to go back now.

"El wants to go trick or treating,” she explained nervously. Steve toyed with the car keys in his hands as he only felt more puzzled.

"I thought your dad said-"

"It's too dangerous," Y/n nodded. Glancing between her little sister and her boyfriend, she scratched the back of her head. "So- I don't know- I was thinking we could just drive around and El could stay in the backseat and watch? That way no one sees her."

Steve couldn't help but feel bummed their movie plans were being given a rain-check, but one look at El and her adorable costume and he knew he could not say no.

"Yeah, sure.”

He went to open the door for Y/n when he took notice of the way El lowered her head and left out a huff. Even with her expression concealed behind the white sheet, Steve could tell she was disappointed.

He reached his hand out for Y/n's, halting her from getting into the passenger's seat. She turned to him, puzzled.

“Or maybe..." Steve gave El a small smile before turning to her older sister. It would be worth a shot. He gave his wristwatch a once-over. "I mean it’s only 5 o’clock. Muncie's just a little over an hour away, and we don't know anyone there."

Y/n furrowed her brows, unsure whether she felt more startled or touched by what Steve was implicating.

"You wanna drive to Muncie?"

Steve shrugged, as if it was no big deal. To Y/n, it was. He stood behind El and placed his hands on her shoulder, feeling assured he was doing a good thing by the way the young girl was already jumping with excitement.

Maybe it wasn't trick-or-treating with Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will, but it was a hell of a lot better than sitting in the backseat on the outside looking in.

"I want El to have the full Halloween experience."

"I do too, but it's risky," Y/n argued, folding her arms and taking a step towards the two of them. "What if someone sees her?"

"C'mon, she has the best costume to disguise her," Steve nudged El's shoulder gently, prompting her to lift her hands up.

"Boo!"

"See? Terrifying."

Y/n laughed beneath her breath then pulled Steve closer to her as El stood behind with a hopeful gaze. As much as she wanted to indulge, she could not ignore how risky it would be.

"Steve," she whispered. "If my dad finds out, he's gonna be pissed."

"I’ll get you both home before he gets off work, I promise," Steve assured, snaking his arms around her waist and closing the gap between them almost entirely.

Y/n pursed her lips, still unsure. Steve, not wanting to let El down after already getting her hopes up, pressed a soft kiss against his girlfriend's temple and then leaned his against hers until she met his eyes.

"Please, baby?"

Her knees weakened. Something about the way he called her baby always seemed to have that effect on Y/n. As if she was not already convinced, a small hand tugged on the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Yeah, please, Y/n?"

With two pair of eyes glued onto her, Y/n felt completely cornered. How was she to say no to the two people she loved most? Letting out a sigh, she playfully rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms.

"Ok, fine."

El hugged her briefly before speeding to the BMW, where Steve stood holding both right-side doors open. Y/n was glad he brought up the idea of going to Muncie. El deserved a normal kid-experience. Maybe they could even make a habit of it.

Steve upheld his promise and got both Hopper girls home safe well before Hopper was due back. While Y/n turned in early, El stayed awake. Between the bucket of candy she had to hide in her closet and the numerous exchanges she had with kids and other families, she was awestruck. El didn't know when or how.

All she knew was that she wanted to go again, and soon.

***

November 10th, 1984

Hopper's truck was already parked outside the cabin when Steve pulled up with Y/n in the passenger seat. She mumbled a curse beneath her breath, dreading having to leave the car. She leaned back against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut.

“My dad’s gonna kill me.”

This was beyond missing curfew or letting El outside in broad daylight. After their massive argument and broken television, Hopper stressed that his eldest keep an extra close eye on his youngest. And now she was nowhere to be found. There was no telling how Hopper was going to react.

She tried not to think about the worst case scenario. Just the situation in itself made her a nervous wreck. Feeling helpless, Steve reached for her hand and held onto it firmly.

“We can keep looking, baby," he spoke softly. If she wanted him to drive her halfway across the country, he would. There was very little he hated more than seeing her so upset.

“It’s no use,” Y/n huffed defeatedly. “We’ve looked everywhere.”

There was no other place in Hawkins she could think of that they had not already been to. Even if there was a place they had missed, it had been hours now. There was a greater chance El was out of Hawkins entirely, maybe even Indiana.

Y/n unbuckled her seatbelt and sat up straight. The longer she stayed in Steve's car, the more time she would have to psych herself out.

It was time to face the music.

“Do you want me to come inside with you?”

Steve's offer caught her by surprise. She smiled weakly and shook her head. Showing up with Steve would only agitate Hopper more given how much he already had against him.

“It’s ok."

Y/n waited until Steve was out of the driveway before going inside. The cabin was eerily silent, so much so Y/n was beginning to think Hopper was in his room. The she turned to the kitchen.

“Where is she?”

Hopper ascended from the shadows of their dimly lit kitchen until he and Y/n stood facing each other from opposite ends of the kitchen table. He crossed his arms and waited for a response, though he already knew the answer.

“Dad, I can explain,” Y/n whimpered quietly.

However, before she could even start, Hopper was muttering something about a report a woman made to the station with a description that matched El to a tee.

“What the hell happened?”

His voice was chillingly level, in a way that made Y/n's chest hurt.

“I came home from school with Steve, and El was still really upset and she asked me for some eggos, but we had none left. So I told her I would be super quick, and I was!”

Hopper furrowed his brows.

“You left her?”

“For five minutes, dad,” Y/n reasoned, her voice breaking. Suddenly, she felt like a little kid again. “Steve and I drove to the nearest store, got some eggos and came back but she was already gone.”

If it weren't for Steve suggesting different solutions, Y/n would have probably been on her knees crying and hyperventilating for hours. She looked to her dad and hoped he would at least acknowledge how distressing that must have been, but his expression was unchanged.

He was still looking at her like she was a sorry excuse of a person. Like she should have been the one missing, not El.

“And you didn’t call me?”

Y/n winced. Steve suggested doing that, but the prospect of it terrified her.

“I thought maybe she wouldn’t have gotten that far yet," Y/n defended, though it was a mere half-truth. "- so Steve and I drove around looking for her.”

“How could you be so irresponsible?"

She clenched her jaw. He did not have the right to say that to her. Not with his track record. Even so, Y/n bit her tongue. Escalating the situation was the last thing she needed, but he was sure testing her.

“If you had kept an eye on her, she would have never left," Hopper added, inching closer and narrowing his eyes at his daughter.

He could not believe it. The one person he thought he could always count on let him down massively. Adding insult to injury, she scoffed at him. Hopper's blood was boiling.

“Well, maybe if you had given her a bit of freedom she wouldn’t feel the need to retaliate by running away," Y/n hissed. Had he already forgotten the very reason he and El fought just a mere day ago?

“Don’t turn this around on me," Hopper growled, pointing his index finger at her. She was toeing the line of going too far, something she once never did but seemed to make a habit of in recent years. "I'm not the one who lost her.”

“No, of course not," Y/n laughed dryly, her tone saturated in a sarcasm that only angered her father more. "You can never do any wrong, all your rules are completely reasonable and not at all controlling.”

“El never disobeyed my rules until you started encouraging her to," Hopper argued pointedly.

"You mean until I listened to her and encouraged her to exercise her freedom of choice?”

“Since when does lashing out at and keeping secrets from their dad fall under freedom of choice?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. Did he not know anything about teenaged girls? Maybe if he was sober when she was 13 he would have even a semblance of a clue as to what El was going through.

“Oh my god, fine!" Y/n yelled. "- sue me for thinking a 13 year old girl should have a bit privacy and be allowed to say how she feels.”

“Don’t do that," Hopper shook his head, doubling back. "You don’t have a monopoly over knowing what’s best for El, I know a thing or two about raising a teenager.”

He was still the parent, Hopper told himself. That had to count for something.

Y/n stared at him, bewildered. He really believed that, didn't he? She knew then any attempt she could make at convincing him otherwise would be in vain. She shook her head.

“But you have no idea what its like being a teenage girl," she pointed out. "- especially one that has to live with you, because let me tell you…”

She stopped herself. While she found great satisfaction in ripping her father a new one, now was not the time. Not with El missing and her father still oblivious as to what could have compelled her to leave.

Hopper narrowed his eyes.

“Go on," he retorted.

Y/n sighed. This was about El.

“She had questions, dad." Y/n voice and expression softened. “- Questions about where she came from and what she can do and how long she has to stay cooped up in here, and all you do is give her vague answers or no answers at all, and it just…”

She tried to find the right words. She tried to think of a way of getting the message across without provoking him further, or making him defensive.

“You know, living with you and… and being your daughter, it’s…” Y/n shook her head. Maybe there wasn't a nice way of going about it. She looked to him and let out a huff. “You make it really hard sometimes.”

Hopper's brows rose, taken aback. He nodded his head, and for a second Y/n let herself be convinced that he got it. That he finally got it. But then he clenched his jaw and suddenly his gaze became a cold glare.

“Yeah well, being your dad hasn’t been all that great either either.”

Regret seeped in the very instant the words left his lips. Hopper inhaled sharply, watching his daughter intently, terrified of another screaming match. It would be two nights in a row.

However, Y/n did not scream at him. She didn’t even flinch. Hopper didn't think it was possible but, somehow, that left him feeling a hundred times worse. Y/n shrugged her shoulders with a deflated frown. She had only one response.

“You stopped being my dad years ago.”

There was no other emotion in her voice, only exhaustion. She could never understand how he had it in him to say such horrid things to her. Perhaps there was time where she would have become livid by him saying what he did, but Y/n had little to nothing left in her.

They could go back and fourth as long as they wanted, but what use would it be? It would always end the same way; with Y/n walking away even more hurt and traumatised than she already was.

***

February 20th, 1986

“You got kids, American?"

Hopper's train of thought was swiftly intercepted as the Russian man seated next to him waited expectedly. He nodded once.

"Two girls," Hopper stated shortly.

He leaned back against the stone wall behind him and closed his eyes. If he tried, he could picture the two of them in his head and it would feel real enough to give him some comfort. It was the way he kept himself grounded and determined to stay alive.

"My youngest, she’s great," he explained, smiling to himself as he remembered El.

He recalled the way she kept him on his toes and brought so much light into his life. He could not remember how long it had been since their last movie night. He wondered how long her hair was now. God, did he miss her. Both of them.

"And my oldest? My god..." Hopper opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. His Y/n was really something. What he would give to see her again. "- She’s the spitting image of her mom, but she’s got my stubbornness."

No description could do her justice, but in simple words that was Y/n in a nutshell. All the best part of her mother and all the rough edges of her dad. Hopper knew that was part of the reason they butted heads so often.

He also knew he shouldered the rest of the blame for that.

“I was supposed to be the parent, but…” Hopper sighed, his shame getting the best of him as he remembered all he did wrong and how she always put up with it. “- Every step of the way she’s been the one looking out for me, keeping things in line and… calling me out on my bullshit.”

It was never fair, he knew that. He knew he should have never put her in a position where she had to be the one keeping the lights running and keeping him in check. Yet, even so, she did it.

She was resilient and patient and forgiving when she had every reason to be vengeful and leave him in the dumps.

“And she’s become one hell of a kid… in spite of me. Not because."

Maybe he would tell her that, if he ever made it home to her and El. Hopper tried not to think about it too much. In order to get home, he needed to get out of whatever hellhole he was in. In order to do that, he needed to stay alive long enough to figure out how.

***

i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.

cardigan series taglist:

@littlepadfootmoony @geeksareunique @agustdeeyaa @babygirlwilly @rqmanoff @midnightsgetawaycar @ilovereadingfanfics-blog @lou-la-lou @dickgraysonspersonalwhore @starkleila

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #x hopper!reader #hopper!reader #x reader #imagine #one shot #stranger things masterlist #angst #inspired by folklore / evermore

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mythological1creatures · 1 year

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/11jbnsZ7J7GofYnvqhbqd5WmboZ_myZ063Ms2eAhX0Oc/edit

Good news the doc full of monster stories is done! Ofc I’ll keep adding to it randomly but there is also a link added on the doc where you can request sexualities, monsters, situations, etc to be added due to popular request.

#masterlist #mythical creatures #mythical beasts #elves #mythology and folklore #monster lover #monster fudger #monster x human #monster x male reader #monster x gender neutral reader #monster x y/n #orc x human #mermen #mythological #mythical society

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moeswriting · 2 months

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Welcome to the Eras Fanfic Tour!! 🌻

This is my quest to write a fanfic inspired by every Taylor Swift song. This is going to be a LONG journey, so I hope you've got some time to give-- definitely more than 10 minutes ;). If you have any ideas for specific songs, let me know in my ask box; my guidelines are posted in the navigation post at the top of my page.

(Note: There are songs I haven't included because I believe that the subject matter isn't really appropriate for a fanfic. For example: Ronan or Soon You'll Get Better. I hope you guys can understand my hesitance there. Also, I'm not necessarily taking direct storylines from songs, I am simply taking inspiration. For example: the vibe of the song, a specific lyric/verse, just the chorus, the music video, etc.)

Album Masterlists:

Debut

most recent post: tbw

Fearless

most recent post: tbw

Speak Now

most recent post: mine - chapter 2 | joel miller is falling in love and you’re learning to love, but joel’s hiding something big from you that might change everything, or the first and third date (7.1k)

RED

most recent post: tbw

1989

most recent post: tbw

reputation

most recent post: tbw

Lover

most recent post: tbw

folklore

most recent post: tbw

evermore

most recent post: tbw

Midnights

most recent post: tbw

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

most recent post: tbw

general masterlist 🌼 | guidelines 🪻

#masterlist #taylor swift #eras fanfic tour #debut #fearless #speak now #red #1989 #reputation #lover #folklore #evermore #midnights #ttpd #navigation

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folkookie97 · 1 year

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hey guys what's up?

i'm here to let you all know my new and official tumblr username: say hi to folkookie97.

i was mirrorball1997 before and now I'm folkookie97 cuz i'm so obsessed with jk but i'm also a girl written by taylor swift.

my ao3 username was changed too!

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fernandoswarcrimes · 1 year

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If you want to be tagged in the song fics click here -> 🎤

Midnights (3AM Edition)

Sleepless nights comes with heartbreak, love, revenge and self discovery. Will you take the plunge?

Status: ongoing

Evermore

Coming soon…

Folklore

Coming soon…

Lover

Coming soon…

Reputation

Coming soon…

1989

Coming soon…

RED TV

Coming soon…

Speak Now TV

Coming soon…

Fearless TV

Coming soon…

Debut (Taylor Swift)

Coming soon…

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sweetbuckybarnes · 9 months

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folklore

Main Masterlist | Album Masterlist | AO3 Series

the 1

cardigan

the last great american dynasty

exile (feat. Bon Iver)

my tears ricochet

mirrorball (Colin Bridgerton + Featherington)

seven

august

this is me trying

illicit affairs

invisible string (Colin Bridgerton + Featherington)

mad woman

epiphany

betty

peace

hoax

#Spotify #taylor swift #folklore #Masterlist

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thecallfolklore · 6 months

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Moodboard Masterlist

Into the Woods

Solemn Seasides

Southern Comfort

#masterlist #moodboard #cryptid #folklore #gothic #vibes #forest gothic #southern gothic #dark aesthetic #haunted aesthetic

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essenceofelegance · 10 months

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❝ They meet again after years ❞

m.list

You’re married?

You’re even more beautiful than I’ve remembered.

You’ve waited for me this whole time?

Look at you! You’re so big now.

“You turned out alright.” “Not thanks to you.”

Do you like what you see?

You look just like her.

I have the letters you wrote me.

Do you remember how tangled we got in our feelings?

I still wear the smile you gave me.

I was gonna marry you…

Where have you been all this time?

Why didn’t you call? Even once?

You have a daughter?

You got married?

I missed you.

My oh my, how does time fly.

“I’m stronger now.” “I see.”

Do you like what you’ve become?

I was gonna ask you to marry me.

You left without a word of explanation.

“I’m not a child anymore.” “I can see that.”

⋆

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#dividers #fanfic #folklore #smut #taylor swift #tropes #drabble #angst #masterlist #fluff #azriel acotar #acotar #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #acomaf #nesta archeron

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saradika · 11 months

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hiiiii i'm not sure if you're doing divider requests rn but is there any chance you could do some that are inspired by taylor swift's folklore album? tysm!! :)

hi! sure, I would love to give this a shot 💖 I hope this captures some of the vibes of folklore, it’s my fave album!

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#if there’s other quotes you’d like to see let me know! I just picked some short faves #dividers #fic dividers #folklore #taylor swift #borders #graphics #requests #yoyok-era #saradika answers

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muzansfangs · 3 months

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Mojito + Douma & Kokushibo

Devotion.

Starring: Douma x f!reader; Kokushibo x f!reader; Douma x f!reader x Kokushibo; mention to Gyokko and Muzan;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, public sex, dom!Kokushibo, dom!Douma, sub!reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, anal penetration, double penetration, bitemarks, hair pulling, reader is a demon, manhandling, blood drinking, violence in battle, consuming humans, dispicable use of blood as a cosmetic, kind of sacrilegious scenary (sex in the shrine area);

Plot: As one of Douma’s most loyal followers, you had some privileges. One of those was being turned into a demon and trained to climb the ranks of the Upper Moons. When Gyokko died, Muzan chose you to take his place. In the middle of a training session with the leader of the Eternal Paradise Cult and the Upper Moon One, you accidentally hit them with your blood demon technique: aphrodisiac blood. Pinned down by your comrades, you were demanded to show them your devotion.

Drink chosen: MOJITO (double!penetration, threesome, anal sex, vaginal sex, marking the partner);

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The Moon glowed solitary in a starless dark sky. Under the pale light provided by the satellite, you were sitting on the cold stairs of an ancient shrine, forgotten by the neglectful humans who had built it centuries ago to probably appease the divine wrath of their god. Ivy and dirt blanketed the abandoned building, now deemed a pit of demons and curses by the local folklore. Pitiful. It was nothing but pitiful. You grimaced at the thought of the typical human inconsistency and stupidity.

Still, not long ago, you were a human too. Some memories from your past life still flashed in your mind. Who were you before you turned into a blood-thirsted creature? You were a devoted young girl, living in a Temple in which people disappeared mysteriously from their beds in the dead of the night. It was a ritual, or this is what the Leader of the Cult wanted his followers to believe. Those humans were doomed. Their naivety and faith were their downfall. However, while he deliberately manipulated the whining mass of people seeking protection and blessings from him, he had never tried to hide his identity, his nature, to you. Loyal to him, you had always stood by his side, not manifesting horrified expressions, when he devoured people in front of you. Your fingers were usually threading through his silky platinum blond hair, whilst he fed. Humming sweet melodies for him, helping him to bathe, you had gradually become his life companion, or something close to it. Along with the favors and attentions he required, he did not abstain from asking you to indulge into the bed with him.

Satisfying your Lord, though, did not feel unpleasant. There was something enthralling about the way he broke you down and built you up.

To show you his gratitude, Douma had therefore turned you into a demon to preserve your beauty. It was amusing how you had inheridated some of his characteristic. Your nails, pointy and lilac, were among them. Your devotion intensified. By the time you had trained enough to be capable of not shaking in front of Muzan Kibutsuji, Douma had suggested him to make you one of the Twelve Kitsuki. You felt on top of the world, the glory of finally standing at the top ensnared your senses and you gladly complied to the King of demons’s order to show your loyalty to him.

Standing up now, you detected the subtle attack coming from your left. Dodging it was easy, the golden tessen aiming at your neck cut a mere strand of your hair. You smirked, kneeling a few feet away from your opponent. Pearly fangs shining under the moonlight, Douma waved his hand at you casually.

“Ah, you’ve become so agile, Y/N-chan!” Douma stated, as you casually approached him with a soft smile on your red-painted lips. He, only he or another demon could say what it was smeared over your mouth.

His hand gripping your hair and straining your neck made you wince. His tongue darted out of his mouth, lapping at the dried blood you used to decorate your lips. Your clawed hand gripped his cheek, nails digging onto the smooth flesh enough to pierce his flesh and draw blood. You had become so much rougher with each other since you had become the new Upper Rank Five. Your animalistic and savage nature had kicked in, surprising your carefree friend to some extents.

“And you are perpetually needy” you whispered, lips hovering over his, before you ungraciously shoved him off of you and caused him to tumble onto the ground.

Douma was fascinated, watching as you rested your bare foot on top of his broad chest and bit down onto your wrist. Oh, how much he loved feeding from you. The sight of your crimson blood dribbling down your skin and splattering onto his face made his cock throb into his pants. The need to be inside of you was unbearable. The Upper Moon Two diligently opened his mouth, tongue welcoming the drops of blood you were so generously letting drip from your wound. Once again, you were subservient, indulgent.

His hand slided up your naked calf, squeezing it suggestively, rainbow-colored eyes locking with yours as you sighed and decided to cruelly deprive him of your proximity, of your intoxicating blood.

Douma groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows as your skin regenerated quickly “Ah, come on, what did I say to piss you off now?” he asked you, but he did not receive an answer from you, because the air around the shrine suddenly became asphyxiating. Your eyes grew round, your knees almost buckling under the pressure, upon ascertaining the Upper Moon One had joined you two. You were expecting him to come; whenever Muzan gave orders, he was the only one who never failed his expectations.

Bowing your head respectfully at the highest rank of what remained of the Twelve Kizuki, you greeted him “Kokushibo-dono, it’s a joy to welcome you here. We were just waiting for you to begin” you cooed, breaking the eeare silence enveloping the area.

You knew nothing about him, beside his sense of honor and an incommensurable admiration for the progenitor of your specimen. A rational, taciturn man who hardly ever barged into the unimportant squabbles taking place among those below him. What mattered to that man was the impertubable balance of powers.

An high-pitched gasp from behind you, caught your attention and, in a blink of an eye, Douma was standing right next to you “Ah, Kokushibo-dono, it’s been so long! You have declined all of my invitations to visit my residence… It’s a shame, really! Recently, I’ve taken in a couple of lovely girls. I looked forward to share them with you” the Upper Moon Two ranted, that fake overjoyed smile curving the angles of his lips upwards, while he sneakily swung his arm around your waist, yanking you against his side.

You sighed, a pout on your lips, before you searched for Kokushibo’s gaze to begin your training session. While you were more than capable of taking down a Pillar on your own, you still had some troubles in controlling your blood demon technique and, with the incoming war, Muzan wanted you to be extremely proficient, impeccable. Letting you train along the two strongest demons alive was the best way to improve your skills.

The former Demon Slayer sized you up, hand resting onto the hilt of his katana out of habit “Y/N. — he greeted you, his six bloodshot eyes then darting on the tall man at your left — Hard times require total concentration. There is absolutely no time to slack off and indulge into sordid, deplorable activities. Get in position” he sternly said, causing the younger demon to sneer and plant a kiss on your cheek before distancing himself from you leisurely.

You had no idea of the specific schedule he had chosen for you, yet the moment your nose was pierced by the fragrance of human blood, and your ears heard heavy footsteps rapidly consuming the road leading from the woods to the shrine, you put the pieces together. You looked at Kokushibo, not surprised by his lack of an explanation. Slayers. Those humans running straight to their death were Slayers the Upper Moon One had purposefully conducted to you.

“Oh, is that food? Please, tell me pretty girls in black uniforms are coming for us…” Douma chimed, his smile broadening as he tried to take a step towards the dark forest.

Kokushibo’s gesture of the hand, though, was enough to stop him from doing anything more than watching the scene unfold before his dreamy eyes.

Being the center of the attention had never been more difficult than now. Your eyes scrutinized the area, your nails ready to rip to shreds whomever had the audacity to attempt to slice your head off of your shoulders. A few seconds passed by before you spotted the group of young Slayers running towards you. Ready for battle, glaring at you, they unsheathed their blades. Six humans, not exactly weaklings, craved your head. But before you could just charge at them, Kokushibo spoke out again.

“Use your technique. Focus solely on it”.

His deep voice, for some reason, sent shivers down your spine. Probably, you were just enthralled by the massacre about to take place in the holy territory underneath your feet. Or maybe you were already losing control. Nevertheless, you quickly switched your attention back on the youngs group of humans in front of you.

“Good evening” you cooed, smiling faintly at the now shaking people looking at you and your frightening friends in horror.

“Upper ranks… We’re dead. Tell the crows to send a Pillar” a female Slayer blurted out, sweat beading her forehead as she frantically looked at both her sides in search for possible ways out of this situation.

“A Pillar? Are you fucking blind? We need more than a Pillar here!” her comrade said, eyes not leaving your frame as you sighed and shook your head. It was pointless. What could three Pillars do anyway against three upper ranks? Nothing.

Your eyes glinted, your hand caressing the cheek of the female slayer who had suggested to call a Pillar. You heard them gasp, when they realized you were standing practically among them, not fearing their deadly blades at all. You were blatantly challenging them, awaiting for the right moment to devour them. You giggled, before you disappeared from the small circle around you, holding the young fighter in your arms before you speaking again. Back in your original spot, you were running your fingers through the silky black hair of the girl, her body writhing under your touch as you leaned your face down to your let your lips graze her earlobe. It was time to satisfy your whims and you did not hesitate to activate your technique.

“Blood demon art: the human puppet” you whispered, the white sclera of your eyes fading into black.

Before your victim could even register what was happening, blood threds connected to her joints and she naturally dropped to her knees in front of you. Adoration in her eyes, she hugged your legs, the effects of your aphrodisiac blood driving her nuts.

“What’s happening? What did she do to her?” the head of the group snapped, trying to assess your reactions to figure out what your power could do.

Honestly, you were having fun. There was no pressure of ending things quickly for once. You had all the time in world to enjoy your minutes of glory and you did. You smiled at the girl at your feet, clasping your hands together as you listened to her words.

“How can I serve you?” she meekly asked you, cheeks flushing up as you hummed and gestured at her friends at her back, hunger for blood making your mouth salivate, albeit you tried to get a grip of yourself.

“Those people have offended me. Why don’t you kill them for me?” you asked, watching in glee as she hastily picked her sword back up and sprinted towards them. Ready to defend themselves, the slayers cursed your name as the group had apparently decided to split. You watched in interest three of them charging at you, homicidal instinct in their eyes, while the rest of them sparred with their comrade.

All the while, you had felt Douma and Kokushibo’s eyes on you, studying your moves, contemplating your choices and strategies. They had not bothered helping you out and they did not seem interested in it anyway, at least, until a disaster happened. Trusting blindly in your abilities, you had waited too long before activating your technique. The moment you did, you were forced to block the slash of a slayer with your forearm. The impact was powerful enough to cause your blood to spill, accidentally splattering on your two colleagues faces, staining their lips and inhebriating them.

Faltering, you had no time to apologize that a katana sliced through your opponent’s head. The thud of his body colliding onto the ground was followed by the screams of terror and agony of the others. Soon enough, you were surroundered by bunch of dismembered corpses, no more sounds echoing in the calm forest, if not… Heavy breaths, grunts of frustration. Affected by your technique, the upper moon One and Two were staring right into your eyes, their fangs protruding from their gums, ferally hissing to fight the primal urges of dominating the weakest prey in front of them. It was your fault. The second form of your blood demon technique was literally called ‘primal lust of the hunter’.

Taking a few impish steps back, you tried to comfort them “I promise the side effects are going to wear off in a few—”.

“How long?” Kokushibo growled, planting his sword onto the ground. You had never seen him like that.

“Kokushibo-dono, I… I—”.

A sudden grip on your forearm, yanking you towards them, made you gasp in sheer embarrassment. That look in their eyes, that way of staring you down in hunger promised nothing less than a long night of submission ahead of you.

“How long?” the Upper moon One hissed on your face, his grip on your forearm intensifying, until you confessed the truth.

“Until you reach the peak of your ecstasy” you blurted out, earning an hysterical laughter from Douma, who grasped a fistful of your hair and encircled your waist with a hand. His abs glued to your back, he rotated his hips against your rear, the clothed bulge underneath the layers he wore poking at you with unbridled hunger.

You shuddered, closing your eyes “I can help you! I can help you both!” you fretted, body on fire as their hands began to undress you with urgency.

Probably, this was the biggest mistake of your life, but the famous thing that happened once ever in a lifetime too. Lips devoured yours instantly, the guttural groan escaping Kokushibo lips made your disclose your lips automatically to let his tongue invade your mouth. Your hands threaded your the former Slayer’s hair, tugging at his ponytail to squash his body against yours. Fangs sank onto the crook of your neck, your whimper swallowed by Koksuhibo, as Douma hand slipped underneath your ripped kimono and masterly cupped your sex.

How many times had he done that to you? So many nights, so many nights but not a single one of them could compare to what he was making you feel right now. Douma always took his sweet time in tearing you apart, but his thumb did not indulge much on your throbbing clitoris.

You whined in protest, only for him to take a step back and unbuckle the belt of his pants “Sorry, Y/N-chan, but I feel… Oh, my sweet gods, I feel like I could burst into my own pants, if I don’t fuck that pretty hole of yours. Not much prep today, okay?” he rasped out, sweat running down the valley of your breasts along with the blood still dribbling down your collarbone in irregular crimson lines from his harsh bite onto your neck.

When the Upper Moon One pulled away, his hands discarding his robes onto the ground, finally granting you the celestial sight of his chiseled body, you struggled to keep your composure: the body of a warrior, the body of a divinity. The body of a man who had trained for centuries, in the desperate chase to proclaim himself the strongest slayer alive.

“Her womb is mine” he declared firmly, causing your knees to buckle, when he grasped your hips and made you straddle him easily. Douma surprisingly did not retaliate, kneeling right behind you instead as his hand slipped down between your thighs to collect some of your juices.

He growled, the pads of his fingers collecting the result of your wanton before smearing them onto the entrance of your puckered hole. You writhed, glancing at him from above your shoulder, before pulling him into a sloppy kiss “You better worship the ground I walk on after this” you whispered, only for a pathetic whimper to leave your lips as Kokushibo’s calloused band grasped your jaw unceremoniously and turned your head towards him once again.

“He’s your superior, but I personally don’t see the number one etched in his eyes” the man darkly said, pushing his hips against yours and witnessing to the way you came to realize his hakama were now loosely hanging down his hips. His cock, standing as a ramrod, was probbing at your entrance with arrogance, his free hand angling your hips to favor the penetration.

“I apologize, Kokushibo-dono. — you breathed out, arching your back as he lined the bulbous tip on you clenching hole — Douma and I are familiar with this kind of entertainment” you explained, breath hitching in your throat when the blond man at your back began to slide a finger into your backside to stretch you out a little. He was seething in anger, frustration of not having the chance to paint the welcoming walls of your pussy in white, as he always did.

The Upper Moon Two smirked “That’s right! I think Kokushibo-dono will absolutely love to hear how much of a slut you are when you are stuffed so full of cum that you twitch like a fish dying on the shore” he remarked, your eyes screwed shut as you felt your tight walls swallowing his fingers into your most private parts.

Were you going to be able to walk after this? If they actually injured you, was your demonic regeneration going to heal your wounds?

“Enough talk” Kokushibo flatly said, unsympathetically pinching your right nipple to hear you squirm under his ministrations as well.

And, gosh, you did. What made him groan out in pleasure, his stolid mask slipping, was the way your pussy squeezed him up perfectly when he entered you. Hands planted onto your hipbones, Kokushibo guided you up and down onto his length. The girth had almost made you regret your choice of taking care of their impellent needs, but the way he occasionally let the head of his cock kiss your cervix made you cry out loudly, shamelessly, your head lolling back on Douma’s shoulder as he also began to slide into you.

You had no idea how you had managed to, how your body had adapted to that tempo, to the way they were manhandly you, but when Douma had filled you up to the brim, his pelvis slapping against your arses, you knew you had showed your devotion to them.

“Fuck! I— O my God… — you whimpered out, vision blurry as tears ran down your cheeks copiously — K-Koku, Koku, I can’t” you inhaled sharply, only for him to snort at your face, a powerful thrust causing your whole body to collapse against his.

“It’s Lord Kokushibo to you”.

His words, vivid in your mind, were the only thing you remembered hearing from him after they were done with you. Panting, a mass of sweat and fluids, you were sandwitched between them. Kokushibo came deep into you, arms almost possessively keeping you in place, his gestures so cold and methodical. You wondered, you wondered if a long time ago he had been married, if he had fucked her with the only intention of impregnating her because you were damned if he had not given you that impression.

Douma was breathing heavily, tongue lapping at the umpteenth wound he had left onto your neck, as he softened into you. He had not pulled out as well, you could feel his sperm oozing out from your abused hole as you barely had the energy to nuzzle your head into Kokushibo’s chest.

He did not caress you, neither said a word, but he allowed you to rest like that for a little while. Your training had just begun.

AUTHOR NOTE.

A big thank you to the anon who had submitted this request! I said it once and I’ll say it again: writing threesomes is amusing! Also… I might have a thing for Douma, that’s pretty evident by now. Thank you for your support and see you in the next work!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

x o x o

Dt: @doumadono @mrskokushibo my angels✨❤️

TAGS: @axesfordays @flakeygod @tomatoeshater @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @crystal-freak24 @the-nex @squ4respace @akazas-left-tatted-butt-cheek @wooyugta @ilubplants @the-faceless-bride

#doma x reader #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #upper moons x reader #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo x y/n #kokushibo x you #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu smut

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saradika-graphics · 7 months

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hii!! first of all thank you so much for every graphic you make, they're so gorgeous and we're so lucky to have you! I've been using your beautiful folklore dividers a lot, do you think you could make some evermore ones? <3

ahhh hi doni, I am so happy to see you! And so glad you are liking them 💖 you are so incredibly sweet. And this was so exciting to see, evermore is such a fave album of mine!! I had a lot of fun making these & hope they fit the vibe! 🍂💕

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

#thank you so much for this request!!! 💖#aesthetic dividers #cute dividers #tumblr dividers #dividers #fic dividers #evermore #swifties #type: dividers #theme: Taylor Swift #color: grey #color: orange #color: green #morning-star-joy

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iamred-iamyellow · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Drivers At The Eras Tour

♥ masterlist

♥ blurbs for: lewis hamilton, george russell, oscar piastri, lando norris, and logan sargeant

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: none !!!

♥ a/n: in honor of charles, pierre, alex, and kika being at the milan show <3

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴇᴡɪs ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ - He showed up in a very tortured poets department-esque outfit that instantly turned heads. I think he's a folklore fan + knows all the lyrics to so long london because he’s seen too many edits of himself set to that track. He was able to get a picture with Taylor at the end of the concert and it absolutely broke the internet within seconds.

ᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʀᴜssᴇʟʟ - He's secretly (not-so secretly) a Swiftie. He's a 1989 kind of guy who surprised you with the amount of songs he actually knew. George spent some time making bracelets with you a few weeks before the concert but took hours to make a single one. He also got off topic and made ones that said 'Russell' and had a 63 on them. I'm also positive he'd become a carpenter if she was Taylor's opener the night you went.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀsᴛʀɪ - He's really confused about the costumes and bracelets but he has the spirit! On the way home he keeps asking you to play songs he liked from the concert but you could barely tell what any of them were because all his lyrics were all wrong. The next day he makes you explain all the lore regarding thanK you aIMme and the reason for Taylor's Version.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs - He surprised you with tickets to the first Paris show right after his Miami win (because he secretly wanted to attend as well). The minute you showed up about a thousand fans gave bracelets to the both of you and he wore all of them on his wrists proudly. He was enjoying the concert but got especially into it when Fearless started. I firmly believe that You Belong With Me and Love Story were his favorite songs growing up and he still knows all the lyrics.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴏɢᴀɴ sᴀʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ - You absolutely made him dress as Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince with you, but he didn’t get the reference at all. You gave him a few friendship bracelets to give to fans when they came up to him and while exchanging gifts someone gave Logan their pink cowboy hat. He was pretty sad when you didn't get Teardrops On My Guitar as a surprise song so he made you play it on the car ride home.

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ozzgin · 10 months

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Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]

In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.

Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!

TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death

[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]

He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men.

Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:

"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."

The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him.

No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood.

He has become a beast.

And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose.

That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle.

"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."

You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle.

"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin.

"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink.

The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.

Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating.

The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room.

Tonight shall be a feast.

The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe.

His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.

You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...

No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be?

The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution.

The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears.

There you are.

Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.

"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.

"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.

"You may check on her if you so desire, however..."

He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached.

"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."

You can only stare.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."

"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion.

He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.

"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"

"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-"

You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony.

"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up.

Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft.

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