#pardon the quality I just had to gif them

[like-rain-or-confetti]

When the Past Fades (Demetri Volturi x Reader)

Demetri and some of the other guards had travelled to the Cullens territory to check on Renesmee's development. What he hadn't expected amidst his visit was catching Renesmee in tears.

"Pardon me, are you alright?" Demetri raised a brow. Renesmee jumped slightly wiping her eyes and turning. "Yeah!" She said a little too forced. "I'm fine just..." She looked down taking a breath. "I'm being stupid. Sometimes I get...overly emotional, I guess. The human part of me." She sniffled. "I see." Demetri hummed. "And what has provoked this?" He asked. "You'll think it's silly." She shook her head. He smirked at the challenge. "Try me."

After a moments pause, she no longer could see the harm. "Sometimes... I get really, really terrified. That...that my body will fail me. That...that I'll succumb to the human in me. I...I forget things and my parents, my entire family, they don't. They spent so long worrying I wouldn't be here for long and now I worry if I'll be here longer than I can function." She sniffled. Demetri thought for a moment. "You're worried you'll forget things? Like humans do?" "That I'll forget important things. Pieces of my life." Renesmee clarified.

After a moment, Demetri gestured to the couch across from him. "Take a seat." She looked a little confused but complied with his request, sitting down. "Do you know my mate, (Y/N)?" He asked as he sat down. Renesmee shrugged. "A little. Human. You've been together for-" Renesmee was cut off by Demetri. "Eighty-eight years." He smiled, knowing she'd get it wrong. Renesmee looked taken aback. "But they -" "they're human? Not quite, but they certainly look the part, hm?" He smiled. "I changed them eighty five years ago but something went wrong. We still don't know what it is, a defect. It's mostly deemed a fluke. (Y/N) can heal quicker than a human, doesn't age and is warm blooded, but their stomach can't take human food." He leaned forward. "The most challenging thing of all being as their life goes on, they forget their past. Much like humans do. (Y/N) can't quite remember what year we met. I have all of our memories whilst theirs fade with time as we make new ones. We believe one day, they'll forget how we met or when or why. I'll just have always been there and i always will be. As it stands, they don't remember their parents faces or voices but can piece a brief description of hair colour or height or body stature. For someone who you'd think would be miserable forget such things and will even forget that they forget one day. Well I think you or I would think their life was as good as done. Yet they're thriving. They won't know what they're missing. Not for long anyway." He leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. "That's the part humans forget. Very rarely, almost impossibly, as their bodies slowly break down or their sense of self and the world begins to fade away - they're never alone. They have someone to make sure they're alright and that they'll carry on with the best quality of life they can have.Do not doubt that in the end, you won't be alone. You're loved too much to be cast aside. Everyone is remembered by someone and every single human I guarantee has that exact same fear...but don't let it own you when it's a part of life that you won't know, Renesmee." Demetri finished with a reassuring smile.

After a moment of silence, he got up to leave. Renesmee watched him, scrambling for a response before she stood up and followed after him out the room. "Demetri!?" He turned. "How do you handle it? That (Y/N) forgets?" Renesmee asked and Demetri smiled. She may not have looked her physical age and mentally even older still but Renesmee Cullen in this moment was just a child in his eyes. Too young to have to have a care in the world. Her anxiety's showing the flicker of humanity Isabella had transferred to her. It lived through Renesmee. Perhaps that was comforting to Edward. That if he stopped for a moment, he could see the humanity he had adored in his mate. His answer came with warmth. "When we're back in our territory, almost every night might i add, I find them reading by the window. Enthralled by my diaries."His tone softened. "I wrote them for (Y/N). So that even if it didn't jog their memory and was too far gone, theey'd still have something to look back to. They relieve them over and over as much or as little as they wants. Every night when they sleep as they must. I write for them. I will continue to write everything. It's how I show my love."

[silentmoths]

A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you. 

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.” 

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you. 

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead. 

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

-

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’ 

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb. 

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived. 

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on. 

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up. 

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?” 

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear. 

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him. 

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny. 

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array. 

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.” 

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing? 

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore. 

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!” 

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life. 

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.” 

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down ��jus’ breathe.” 

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack. 

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him. 

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it. 

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

-

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day. 

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips. 

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage. 

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive? 

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

-

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you. 

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired. 

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.” 

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated. 

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles. 

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so. 

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?” 

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing. 

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly. 

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles. 

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.” 

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him. 

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch. 

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens. 

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him. 

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it. 

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.) 

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play. 

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots. 

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now. 

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you. 

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…” 

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear. 

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand. 

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.” 

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter. 

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates) 

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass. 

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard. 

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you. 

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you. 

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful. 

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?” 

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.” 

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ║ ❝𝐖𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

(A/n) ➳ Started watching Hazbin Hotel again, gotta say, it’s a good show. I was hoping to get to the next chapter sooner. I thank you guys for being patient, I seriously had a massive writer’s block.

Word Count ➳ 1.7k

Content Warnings ➳ Swearing, light sexual content, mentions of anger issues, mentions of abuse, mention of unrequited love, mentions of marriages, alcohol use, mentions of criminal investigation…

JUDAS Masterlist

“DON’T YOU MEAN THAT SHIT DINER?”

You let out a playful scoff, acting offended. “Well excuse you Daryl, The Golden Bite is an amazing diner!” You spoke to him over the phone.

That’s when your coworker, Annie came walking with a plate in hand that had a half eaten burger. “Still tastes like cardboard.” She sang as she headed back to the kitchen.

“Annie-”

“Still not gettin’ it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Gonna come and say it to my face?” You flinched at the loud voices coming from the kitchen, Annie was once again arguing with the cooks.

You don’t blame her, the cooks the manager hired are shit and so is the quality of the food. It’s a shock that this place hadn’t been shut down yet.

You heard Daryl laugh and the infamous sound of his motorcycle. “I still wanna live another day and get another taste, still thinkin’ of ya.”

Your face immediately became hot, you thought you would break your phone with how tight you were clutching it.

“Daryl!” You harshly whispered.

“I’m an honest man and I’m honest when I say, I wanna bend you over my bike again.”

“I’m at work!”

“That ain’t gonna stop me.”

Annie poked her head around the corner. “Oh yeah, Meredith said that the sheriff wants you. Ain’t taking anybody else.” She disappeared before you could retort.

“That’s my cue.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Judas.” You set your phone in your pocket and looked over your shoulder for a quick glance, right by the window.

Shane sat at the table, looking over the menu as if he hadn’t been here for the hundredth time. You snapped your head back at the coffee machine the second his eyes drifted away from the menu.

You were still reeling from the conversation you had with him before, the two of you hadn’t talked, texted, or called each other. He didn’t stop by whenever he was in the neighborhood, did he feel guilty?

You walked to his table with a pen and notepad in hand. “Hey, Shane, what can I get you?”

“Just the special and a large coffee, nothin’ in it.”

“I’ll get that-”

“Can you give me a minute?” Shane interrupted you.

You looked up from your notepad and lifted an eyebrow. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Jus’ sit, I won’t be long.”

You sighed. “If I get busted, it’s gonna be on your head, Walsh. I need this job.”

Shane chuckled. “You could always become a stay at home wife.”

You scoffed, clicking your pen. “Yeah? Who the hell’s gonna deal with my bullshit?”

“Me as your husband.”

Your heart sank into your stomach. “What?” You needed to bite this in the bud, like Amy said. “Look Shane, I don’t think-”

“You say that but what ‘bout later? Down the line? What happens when the jackass becomes borin’? Or worse? Hurts you?”

You could only shake your head in disbelief, Daryl was many things. He’s wild, secretive, and could be distant at times but he would never hurt you.

“Seriously? Do you really think that low of Daryl?! You don’t even know him.”

“Do you even know him?”

“That’s-”

“Do you know where the guy lives or any idea what he does for a livin’?” Shane then grabbed your wrist to pull you closer, his hot breath hitting your face. “I know you, (Y/n). I know that you like to chase after people who ain’t good for you and you know it! He’s one of them. And I know you’re better and safer with me.”

“I don’t-!”

“Pardon me!” Annie made you both jump back, Shane releasing his tightening grip. “Are you lovebirds done arguing?”

“Annie-!”

“Because we would like you to keep the volume down or take it outside.” Annie cut you off before you could even explain. “Or you can get back to work and not lose this job.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, scurrying off to the kitchen.

Annie’s eyes turned to Shane who she glared at. “You ain’t good for her. Not even close.” She turned on her heel and followed you.

She found you in the break room, rubbing your arms and taking deep breaths. She could see it in your eyes, the slight anger.

“Need me to ask Miguel to toss that guy out?” Annie placed a hand on your shoulder.

“No, no.” You waved her off, your hands now fidgeting with your fingers. “I don’t know what that was.”

“That was a glimpse of an asshole.” Annie explained. “And a jealous one from what I heard, no ‘mout of therapy can fix that man.”

“You could never know-”

“I know ‘em (Y/n).”

“He’s probably cooled off by now.” You took one final deep breath. “I’m jus’ gonna hear what else he gotta say then I’m done, I’m out of here.”

“Workin’ or him?”

“Most likely both.”

Meredith peered into the break room. “Think she’s gonna reject him?”

Annie shook her head, her hands on her hips as she took a couple steps out the break room, seeing you sit back down with Shane. “The girl loves thrill and danger. Safety is never in her handbook.”

“Worried for ‘er?”

“I’m scared shitless.”

“Look, (Y/n) I know I ain’t your type of guy. But it could all change.” Shane explained.

“I ain’t got time for this, I ain’t got time for whatever you’re dreamin’ of. It’s all it is, a dream.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do.” You retracted your hand when he went for it, speaking as sternly as you could without drawing the attention of customers. “And if you understand, you would stop askin’ ‘bout this guy.”

“I’ll understand when I get the chance to show you that a life with me is a safer choice than whatever you have with that guy.”

You groaned, was he really going to do this to himself? “You would rather be in a loveless marriage?”

“It ain’t gonna be loveless. What I’m askin’ you to do is to go out with me.”

“HE SAID WHAT?!” Andrea snatched the pillow that hid your frustrated expression, she threw it behind her and asked the same question again, even louder if possible.

“You heard me.” You mumbled.

You didn’t know how to feel other than uncomfortable. The lump in your throat didn’t want to leave, making you feel bothered.

“What did you say?!”

“Didn’t say anythin’, told me to think ‘bout it.”

“Dammit (Y/n)!”

“I know!” You stopped her before she could scold you. “I know I should’ve said no!”

“But you gotta admit, he’s gotta be loaded with cash.”

“...He kinda is.”

“S-Seriously?”

You nodded, you grabbed another pillow to squeeze at, trying to sooth yourself. “There would be times where Shane would pay for my expenses, like rent and water.”

“Oh he’s serious ‘bout you.”

“That’s the sad part. Even if things didn’t work out with Daryl, I don’t want Shane to be a second option jus’ ‘cause I couldn’t have Daryl or it becomes borin’. I wanna be sure that if I choose Shane, it’s gotta be true.”

You jumped at the sound of the wine bottle being popped open, you stared at Andrea as she poured you a rather large glass of wine.

“Then go see Shane.”

“Y’know I can’t-”

“See Shane and see how you feel. If nothin’ changes or worse comes to worst, you feel repulsed, then tell ‘im. You can continue to see Daryl with Shane hanging over your head.”

Andrea pushed the glass into your hands. “And what if it doesn’t? What if I end up fallin’ for him?”

“Then you could lose a man you love or a man who’s only sticking ‘round when he needs you to blow or fuck.”

“Daryl doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Then that’s worse, choosing between two guys is a fuckin’ nightmare.”

‘Im on my way’

You read the text again from Shane, silently hoping all of this was just a dream and you never heard Shane asking you out.

You shut your phone and stared into the mirror, you sighed, taking your tenth pair of earrings off. You were annoyed with yourself, how hard was it to say no? Especially to Shane?

The knocking on your door made you annoyed even more, you weren’t in the mood for a guest but it dropped when you saw Carl with Rick… Carl with Rick.

You opened your door. “Hey Rick.” Then you turn to the boy. “Carl!”

Carl quickly wrapped his arms around you, nearly knocking you down. You could never stay mad at the boy.

Rick stepped in and closed your door. “I’m callin’ in a favor.”

“Shoot.” You said, managing to get his arms off to get him a little snack.

“Lori’s mom canceled on us and I know your workin’ tomorrow. I was hopin’ if you could look after Carl after your shift. Jus’ for a couple hours.”

“It’s no problem, you know I don’t mind takin’ care of your rascal.”

“Hey!” His shout made you stick out your tongue at him playfully.

“So… What’s gotcha all dolled up? Goin’ out with that guy?”

“What guy-? How did you know I was talkin’ to someone?” Rick fumbled over his words. “Grimes.”

“Shane, he was worried ‘bout you.”

“Jeez, y’know I can take care of myself.”

“Said that last time, remember what happened?”

You rolled your eyes. “It was once.”

“Three times, three guys who broke your heart.”

“It was nothin’. They were nothin’. They jus’ broke up with me, nothin’ crazy.”

“You say that now but what if it’s different?” Rick pulled you away from Carl and whispered. “What if he has a criminal record or is involved in some deep shit?”

“I can find that out.”

“And so can I but quicker, jus’ give me a name.”

“I ain’t gonna give you shit, Grimes.” You walked back to Carl. Your smile came back as you watched Carl become happy when you let him get some more.

Rick wanted to get it out of you, but if he couldn’t get it out of you, surely Carl could.

You could never say no to him.

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

Taglist ➳ @deansapplepie , @ladylincoln , @gamingfeline , @lady06reaper , @alanamarie , @daryldixmedown , @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @itwasntaphasema , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @itsrainingbisexualfrogs , @ingstadstarlight , @gamingfeline , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @the-lonely-abyss , @number1bashbabe , @xmaeyonaise , @suniloli , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells , @sexyxdylanxobrien ,

⊰ Chapter 3 ⊰ » » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 5 ⊰

[cinnaminsvga]

🥀 | yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!

When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.

He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.

Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.

It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.

For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.

You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.

You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.

You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.

When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.

Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.

“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.

Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.

“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.

Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.

Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.

Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.

Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.

So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.

That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.

Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.

Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.

Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.

“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.

Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”

Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”

“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.

(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)

“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.

Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?

“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”

“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”

If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.

“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.

“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.

As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.

“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.

“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”

“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”

“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”

Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.

(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)

“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.

“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.

“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.

Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.

You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.

To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?

Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”

Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.

Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.

“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.

Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”

But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.

“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.

“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.

When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…

“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.

Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.

Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.

Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.

“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.

In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.

Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”

[hismercytomyjustice]

Other fics will absolutely still be completed, but I have shocking news…

I’m planning to do RadioApple AU Goggles week in May…

Day 4 is “Favorite Movie.”

I almost went with trying to emulate my KSci boys, but Lucifer and Alastor have such pilot energy.

However, I’m still trying to bring this energy to the function (apologies for the quality, couldn’t find a better version with the very important subtitles):

📻🍎🤖🦖 📻🍎🤖🦖 📻🍎🤖🦖

“Is that Crimson Shadow?” the stranger prompted, close enough he didn’t have to raise his voice much to be heard.

Alastor couldn’t help but grin with pride. “Yes, she is! The finest Mach-1 to ever grace the program!”

“Is that why the pilots have you wasting time prettying her up? Kind of like putting lipstick on a pig, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s eye twitched. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t understand why they put so much time and energy into maintaining such an ancient model. Have you seen the newest Mach-5s? It’s like looking at a prop plane next to a military jet!”

“Bells and whistles aren’t everything,” Alastor answered, eyes narrowing. “And I’d argue the newer models have more than they know what to do with, not because they actually need it, but because these newer pilots need all the help they can get.”

Like Adam, the dictionary definition of sloppy. The man lacked both discipline and control, and Alastor was genuinely shocked he managed to tie his own shoes, let alone pilot a jaeger. He certainly wouldn’t be able to without the latest technology doing the bulk of the work for him, along with his sycophantic copilot, Lute.

Alastor was convinced she was the only one capable of not losing a fatal number of brain cells from drifting with that moron.

“Or maybe her pilots need to get with the times,” the man retorted, wandering closer. “And now with one of them out of commission, the PPDC is gonna be pressed to find someone else willing to work with a dinosaur like that.”

Alastor got the distinct impression he was referring to both Crimson Shadow and him.

Well, if he was a pilot, at least he’d already done Alastor the favor of removing himself from his list of potential candidates.

“I take it you only have experience with the newer models?” he prompted.

“Yeah! Fallen Angel! Ever seen her?”

Ah. He must be Lucifer Morningstar then. The nepo baby who’d undoubtedly used his father’s clout and money to get himself into the program.

Of course he piloted that monstrosity. Perhaps that was why he gravitated to his outfit, wanting to match his garish mech. The damned thing had a small set of decorative wings of all things. True, they housed missiles within their feathers, but wings? Really?

That was exactly the kind of thing that happened when people became too focused on form rather than function.

Crimson Shadow, however, had both in spades.

“Isn’t she currently being turned into scrap?” Alastor drawled in answer.

Lucifer actually stomped his tiny foot, his boot ringing against the metal of the catwalk. “No! She’s just undergoing repairs!”

“Caused by a Category Three kaiju. How embarrassing. She has…what, three kills?”

“Four!” he snapped back at him. “And it was the biggest Category Three that’s ever come through the breach!”

“A Mark-4, too… Why, Crimson Shadow is sitting here just fine after her latest battle against a Category Four!”

He smirked when Lucifer’s face turned as red as his ridiculous jacket. “Big talk coming from someone like you!”

Like him?

He glanced down. Upon recalling he was in his bland gray maintenance uniform, he laughed outright.

“Oh, I’d rather spend my days touching up the paint on a legend like Crimson Shadow than waste even a second in Fallen Angel!”

“I bet you would!” Lucifer seethed in answer. “Unlike you, I have somewhere important to be right now!”

He stormed off, Alastor’s laughter following at his heels.

[weirdmorefics]

Hello! May I request a Az x reader (she/her) x Crowley where the reader loves the wind and has long hair (she grew her hair out specifically for this reason) and so to mess with her, Crowley and Az decide to play a prank where Crowley generates strong winds to play with the reader’s hair? Thank you so much and have an ineffable day!

Wind and Ducks

Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

A/N- Have ineffable day as well!!!

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

Warnings- None

Word Count- 767

Summary- The three of you are spending the day in the park on the same bench you always do and feeding ducks but the wind seems to be following the reader wherever she goes.

"Who has the frozen peas?" Y/n shouts.

"Darling, I think we are out. There is bread where I keep the tea." Aziraphale responds.

Y/n gasps "Have you no decency for life!"

"Pardon," Aziraphale's head whips back to face her.

"Angel, you know bread causes obstructions in ducks," Crowley reminds.

"Sorry darling, I was distracted new shipment of books came in. Couldn't wait to open it," he smiled sheepishly.

"But we neeeed peeeaas," she whines.

"Then peas we shall get," Aziraphale kisses the top of her head.

"Let's get a move on then," Crowley ushers the two of you out of the store.

The door swings open with ease the wind blowing it back. Y/n's hair whips back into her face a small gigle escaping her lips.

"I hope the wind doesn't disturb the ducks, I do love the breeze though," she smiles.

"I am sure the ducks will not care about the wind once they see your smile," Aziraphale grins.

"Oh you big softie," Y/N pushes his shoulder.

The three of them spent way more time in the shop than was needed. Aziraphale looks at sweets, Crowley judges the plants' quality, and Y/n looks for the best peas to please the ducks. As the group exits the wind seems to have picked and Aziraphale and Crowley exchange knowing smiles unbeknownst to Y/n.

Y/n giggles a strand of hair gets tucked between her nose and lip. She turns to Crowley with a big grin, "You like my mustache?" She twirls the end of her hair as if it were a curly mustache on her face.

Crowley rolls his eyes but his smile tells another story. The wind comes in and goes and each time it picks up Aziraphale and Crowley would exchange silent glances. Y/n starts to pick up on these glances as they become more frequent but does not make the correlation.

She turns to face them pointing an excusing finger at them as they make their way to the park, "What are you two up to?"

Crowley raises his hands up in defense, "I have no idea what you are on about darling."

Y/n ignores Crowley and sends her glance to Aziraphale expecting him to be the more likely one to break but he says nothing and shrugs with an innocent smile.

She puts to her eyes and back to the duo, "I've got my eye on you two." She turns back around and continues to make her way to the duck pond.

Crowley and Aziraphale sit on the same bench as always and Y/n sits closer to the water to accommodate the ducks. She hands out the peas delicately and more and more ducks seem to surround her. Crowley looks at the ducks with envy to be treated so kindly by Y/n was a gift what did these birds do to deserve it. As his jealousy gets the best of him the wind picks up the heaviest it has today making the ducks scurry off. Y/n frowns but the wind causes flowers from a nearby bush to land gently in her hair. She stands smiling letting her hair flow more wildly and dancing around. She followed the direction which the flowers came from and picked some more for the boys.

She sat on the bench once she returned and tucked the flowers in the men's hair, "Crowley if you were jealous of the ducks all you had to do was say not make a windstorm."

"I haven't the faintest clue on what you're talking about," Crowley plays coy.

"Aziraphle," She states.

"We just love seeing you so happy when the wind plays with your hair," he smiled sheepishly.

"See love it wasn't out of jealousy it was for joy," Crowley argued.

"Whatever you say," Y/n giggles.

"I am serious Y/n," he says defensively.

"You are fooling no one, Crowley. Even the angel doesn't believe you," She smiled as the angel looked away hiding a smile.

"Come on, let's leave. I am getting quite tired of you two ganging up on me." Crowley ends the conversation leaving Aziraphale and Y/n smiling and chuckling.

"I must say I did enjoy seeing you so happy with the wind today. I am glad it was accompanied by a signature Crowley tantrum," He whispers into her ear.

Y/n smile widens even bigger and she whispers, "Me too."

"Oi, what are you to whispering about over there? It better not be about me! Let's get a move on," Crowley shouts and the giggling pair follow.

[9mysterybook6]

Rhylie You are an unreasonable person

I am sure that you will never feel any regret or shame for your actions.

The reason I didn't reply to you before is because I wanted to forget about you

But You want reply? I will give you an reply😠

I mean what about those?

I beg your pardon

What war are you talking about?

The war that you started from the beginning

You are the one who continued with these actions and behaviors despite everyone's warnings.

What about this?

First of all, this is harassment and suspicious and someone is toxic

If you are interested in someone you will respect their wishes.

Your actions are wrong now

You just prove my words and others more and more about you

What about this too?

girl, read the room

You are asking someone who, you harassed and bullied And you do art hatred for them And you spread lies about them and steal their publications and works. if you would be on the good list.

So naturally my answer will be To you have a mountain of coal for Christmas

You are definitely on a bad list for your actions and behaviors.

I mean what did you expect from my answer after everything you did to me and others?

I see you still living in your imagination

What do you mean you are the only one who can lead?

You are a person who does not have leadership qualities

AND No one wants a leader who harasses and bullies others.

I mean have you looked at your background?

Just because you deleted your blog doesn't mean your actions are deleted too.

Even though I didn't reply to you And I was giving you the silent treatment and ignoring you

you do this

You are still living in your imagination if you make yourself the leader of gacha

No one agrees with this and do not ask others' opinions.

What annoys me the most about you is this

I really find this annoying.

You are now trying to avoid your actions and act like you did nothing.

You try to be good to everyone as if you never did the drama in the first place.

You act innocent and try to make excuses for your actions.

You act like you didn't do anything at all and now you're saying

((Together, We're Justice For Bringing Peace And Harmony To Pamithebunterfly2007 And nicky-toony27

With Our Leader @9mysterybook6 and second Leader me And Commander @megamanzerov20

We're Here To Stop This War About Turning Against Me.

I will never ever forever be damned, so spread the word for safety and protections of others.))

I beg your pardon again

I didn't agree on anything about making you the leader.

And another thing, it is the decision of the people in Communities who want the leader of gacha

And another thing, you realize that I'm not even a real leader, right?

I'm just Admin on the gacha Community in tumblr

But if they had a choice between you and me, it is clear that they would choose me because at least I do not harass people or say meaningless words.

When I say meaningless words

I mean what you say about you are 21 But at the same time a minor

Everyone thought your words were meaningless and incomprehensible.

How do you say you are the first 21 old minor

You never even explained anything about this.

What about this part?

You say that we should not say that we should turn people against you.

I did not incite anyone against you or anyone else, you are the one who did this to yourself

You are trying to avoid your actions, that is why now you are trying to befriend me and others

You haven't even changed your behavior.

Nobody here wants to go through the trouble of a toxic, harassing person again.

The reason people don't give you a second chance is because they're afraid you'll do it the second time.

And apparently this is true.

You haven't learned anything at all and you're still doing what you're doing.

You're just playing low now

Now you're playing defense

And now you are playing the victim card and innocent

What about this too?🙄🤦‍♀️

You are just pathetic now With all these actions of yours

You really never change

And again you say we are turning everyone against you

You are the one who continued your actions and did bad things to others.

We all advised you and warned you, but you ignored our words and continued to harass and bully others.

This is what I call karma for the hypocrites.

You said you would leave us alone, but you didn't.

You are still the same manipulative and lying person

 And this is nicky-toony27's comment about you

Flash News

How long will you realize that your actions cannot be forgiven or fixs?

What's done is done and you can't change it.

There is no shortcut or quick fix to what you did.

Your actions are not the kind that can be easily forgiven.

I just tell the truth and facts

You're now like a bad copycat of Dr. Jekyll.

You apologize and then harass people again.

You're acting like you're the victim here and we're like your accusers.

No one is responsible for your actions but yourself.

It's your fault from the beginning

the Others and I wouldn't even be in this drama at all.

It all started with your disagreement with pamithebunterfly2007

Instead of respecting their wishes, leave them alone.

You kept stalking them.

pamit did not feel comfortable with you and your actions.

Do I have to mention your actions with prometheus2007

She was just advising their friend.

And you started spreading lies about her and harassing her

Because she was just helping and defending a friend from you.

prome also tried to reconcile with you.

prome tried to help you and advise you so you understand the situation you are in

But talking to you is like talking to a stone wall.

All these problems started from this

You continue in succession and an another one is not related to the topic at all.

You are the one who continues with your nonsense and bad actions

ignore the main problem

And don't forget that you harassed people because they expressed their opinion about you or were defending someone from your harassing.

You clearly have no idea what you are doing In your defense

No one is to blame here but yourself.

as everyone said, stop stalking us And leave us alone

But like I said, talking to you is like talking to a stone.

Where is my hot chocolate drink?

I need to get back to my area aka cozy room and get rid of this crap.

This is really a ridiculous situation.

Here is a personal advice from me rhylie

Take a break from the internet

Ask someone From your family or someone you know about your actions and ask their opinion, maybe they will make you understand your mistakes.

Find a hobby you do or a series you like to watch.

You shouldn't stay here any longer on the internet.

Aren't there better things you should be doing instead of online?

[sapphic-woes]

Can't help but think about a Vampire!Tav x Karlach... so part 1 of this idea :) pardon the lack of quality haven't done this for a while.

Vampire!Tav x Karlach:

You're one of Astarion's siblings, and let's say here that the rite simply Does Not Exist and we just gotta kill Cazador cuz he's already bad enough as is. The scars are indeed a shitty, Raphael style poem.

You and Astarion are basically double trouble, absolute menaces, downright diabolical together...but then Halsin comes along and ruins everything.

Astarion is...good? Suddenly? Or at least, he tries to be. Because Halsin is as good as people get, and for once...it's actually affecting Astarion.

And ugh. You hate it.

He's all smiles and rainbows now. Giggling like a lovesick idiot. You pity him for looking like such a fool. Doesn't he know how easy it is to string someone along? How easy it was to hand them over to Cazador and then just...forget them? How little love actually meant?

At least, that's what you tell yourself when you watch them being together. In reality, you're jealous of Astarion as much as you are a teeny tiny bit happy.

What could it be like? Loving someone just...because? To finally feel safe around another person? Protected? Cared for?

Astarion doesn't look afraid anymore, whereas you can't go a day without hearing Cazador's voice ordering you around. To sit up straight, to know your place, to never dare to drink the blood of a another–

"Soldier? Mm it's not even morning yet... Huh? Hey, easy-shit–easy there soldier! If you need to, uh, eat? Wait hang on, it's more like drinking isn't it? Well, you know what I mean! What I'm trying to say is, if you need blood..."

Your band of misfits had been hurrying to Baldurs Gate like maniacs, leaving you little time to feed. Sure, you caught your occasional animal, but unlike Astarion, you didn't have a humanoid blood bank willing to be your donor. You'd been hungry for days, however, you still thought you had everything control.

"...could ya ask before you try to take a bite outta my neck?"

Coming out of your hunger induced daze to find a surprised Karlach underneath you was...alarming, to say the least.

Not because of the position–she was warm and so fucking firm underneath your skin, sharply contrasting your cold, undead body. You nearly wanted to melt into her arms.

When was the last time you'd experienced warmth apart from blood and tears? Let alone the warmth of another person?

But this wasn't a time to loose focus. Karlach has already warned Astarion when your secret identities had been revealed. She'd wring your neck for actually trying to bite her now. Sure, you were strong–buy you'd be a fool to think you had a chance against the tiefling.

You're frozen in panic so long that Karlach begins to move, slowly trying to prop herself up with her elbows. She's trying to make sure you don't fall off her...

Though at the realization, her efforts are in vain as you lurch yourself away in horror.

Shit, shit, shit–

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I wasn't in my right mind. I swear I would never... I-I know you said to keep our teeth to o-ourselves..."

Your dead heart pounds, and you're certain she'll snap you in two after this. Why couldn't it have been Gale? Or even Wyll? At least with them you had the chance of survival. With a barbarian like Karlach?

This time, you really were going to die.

You squeeze your eyes shut when she finally rises from her bed and stalks toward you. Slow, purposeful steps. Her eyes are troubled, and you can't fathom why.

That is until she stops you and softly speaks.

"I thought you'd been looking a little tired these days. I shoulda brought it up early, but I know you like your privacy. Y/N..."

There's a beat of silence, and then everything is sweet. Mouthwatering. The scent of blood invades your senses. It's good. So good.

Your head snaps up, and Karlach has her knees bent, thumb out like she's telling you 'good job!' However, what catches your eyes is the cut on it–dripping blood onto the dirt between you two.

"I don't mind sharing...if you don't mind the heat."

It's an amusing sight for Karlach, you're sure, but you'd abandoned your pride long ago.

Well, more like 5 minutes ago–but can you blame a girl when she's starving?

You suck on her thumb like her blood is holy, eager to satiate your hunger. Karlach shivers, and you swear she grits her teeth, but you can't stop.

Her blood is intense, like chugging molten lava straight down your throat. Yet it doesn't actually burn. It tingles, it warms, it... rejuvenates you. Was this what it meant to drink from a thinking creature? Or was Karlach simply the best meal you'd ever had...?

[ageless-aislynn]

From @mrtobenamedlater for the Halo ask game

💕🌌📷

💞 - favourite moment in a game?

From a story-telling, cinematic p.o.v., definitely this one in Halo 4:

Just the bittersweetness of her finally being able to touch him, his confusion, the first time I'd ever heard him stumble over his words, the realization that she wasn't coming back with him, had sacrificed herself to save him... All of it, man. Just right in the heart, oof!

From a gameplay p.o.v., saving 3 Echo 57 on the mission ONI: Sword Base from Halo: Reach. The troop transport Warthog is supposed to explode before you can get to it but there's a way to zoooooooom over there (Acrophobia skull works best) and stun it with a charged-up plasma pistol so it doesn't cross the invisible line where it'll blow up.

Me: This is for your own good, marines. Trust me, you don't want to keep driving that way! *ZZZZZZZAP*

You make the driver get out so you can quickly but carefully drive it out of there, avoiding a few other invisible lines that will ALSO make it blow up. Then you can bring it back, fill it with marines, and take it through almost all of the rest of the mission! I always save my 3 Echo 57 marines if I'm not doing a speedrun or something else that keeps me from doing so! 🤗

(Yeah, it always looks like it's on fire but it's just cosmetic. It has the same health as any other Warthog as far as I can tell. 😎👍 Also, please pardon the ABSOLUTE POTATO QUALITY. I chopped it out of an existing GIF and that did it no favors, eek!)

🌌 - what made you interested in halo?

I've always had an interest in video games but no way to play them, so when Youtube walkthroughs/Let's plays/etc became a thing, I watched a LOT of them. One of them was Halo 4 (where I imprinted on that version of Cortana, lol). Fast-forward many years later to the first commercial I saw for the tv series, thought it sounded interesting, and watched it when it came out. As soon as I did, I seriously WANTED to play at least one of the games. Found the MCC on a rad sale at Steam and decided to see if my old man (previous computer) could play it. He could and the rest, as they say, is history!

📷 - 'aesthetic' photo you associate a halo character with

Hee, thanks so much! 😎👍💖

[skzoologist]

Heya! This is the previous anon screaming ab the new chapter being released

THE NEW CHAPTER OMG??? IK I SAID THIS BEFORE BUT YOUR DESCRIPTIONS 💕💕💕💕 The descriptions of the imaginary sceneries make each scene so vivid, holy shit (/pos), it's like I'm standing in the middle of each scene in person and taking pictures of it in HD

AND JISUNG CRYING?? AND THERE WERE CUDDLES AFTER?? BRO 😭😭 (if you couldn't tell already I'm Han biased :D)

FUCK THE PERSON WHO TRAUMATIZED BAE AND THE DUDE WHO CAME UP TO HIM, BINNIE, AND THE PUPPY 🤬🤬🤬

anyways, I'm so normal about this series 😁 (I'm lying, I will now be rereading all the chapters again for the 4th time)

You've outdone yourself again, thank you sm for the wonderful writing 💕💕💕💕

Please pardon my use of cuss words in this ask 😭

(one last question, uhhh can I be 🐹 anon?)

H-hold on, I- I need some tissues, because you are so sweet and aAAaaAaaaaaAAAaaaa

My apologies, I had to let it out.

I am so, so, SO happy you liked the chapter this much, I didn't feel like it was up to my usual standards of quality 😞I had to go back several times and make sure the descriptions were like, you know, okay and not just a few sad words left there to rot x'd

Jisung crying, ah yes, the part that I wrote under an hour because surprise surprise (it isn't), he is my bias wrecker. So much so that after half a year I am still reeling from it, so you are in luck with him being your bias! 😄 (I will forever write stuff for him, I need it to LIVE omg) I was scrambling around, trying to hide this fact and write more for Seungminnie, but I might have failed lmao. Hopefully the Seungmin biased readers won't come for my throat haha 😅

You're gonna curse some more people in the future, not gonna lie. Like. A lot. And quite a few times. Sorry in advance, dear 🥲

You are so not normal about this series and I am so not normal about your reactions (never stop them, please, I am begging you-). Your 4th time??? HeLLO?? THAT IS SUCH AN HONOUR, I WILL CRY 😭😭😭

No no, I don't mind cuss words at all, don't worry! I actually use a lot while speaking, it's a bad habit of mine, so I am quite desensitized to them.

And yes, you can be 🐹 anon, in fact you already are! Welcome, hope you enjoy your stay! (you have that tag now as well for yourself)

Me after seeing this ask, accurate depiction:

[jaundicehinch]

Until the Last Drop

Part 3

Severus' lessons have ended and gone, surprisingly smoothly through the first week. That is, aside from the one time Neville Longbottom's shrinking solution went terribly wrong. Though Hermione Granger saved him and his toad before he could kill it.. The Potions Master was quite disappointed he couldn't finish off Neville's toad for brewing such a horrendous, god-awful potion. To say it even 𝘪𝘴 a potion was an utter insult to potioneers. Snape didn't feel marvelous about having to teach the son of his former bully, but he had to do it nonetheless.

He was just as insufferable, arrogant, ignorant and selfish as his father. He spent most of his days grading terrible excuses of assignments. Though it would always make his bottom lip curl when he came across assignments with the name 𝘠/𝘕 𝘓/𝘕 in the right upper corner. Her assignments were always tip-top quality, with an eloquent handwriting and the most intricate, trivial of details being put to use, always using elegant and advanced words that over half of the students in her year wouldn't have a clue what they mean.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Y/N was strolling around the castle, her black, long robes and cloak swooping behind her like flowing clouds of smoke. Her eyes were unforgiving, sharp and observing. It wouldn't be rare for Neville Longbottom's knees to buckle, and teeth to clatter at the mere sight of her. Could you blame the boy? Her aura of authority, intelligence and power were quite intimidating. And deceiving.

Y/N stopped walking abruptly and tilted her chin to normal height, closing her eyes and smiling creepily as she spotted Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley talking. "She's mental, I'm telling you!", Ron exclaimed with wide eyes, and Harry nodded in agreement, or that's what it was supposed to be. Ron clumsily tripped over Harry's foot and fell over, groaning.

Harry laughed and bent over to help Ron, when Y/N approached them. "Would any help do you good, boys?", she inquired silkily.

Ronald stood up with a grunt and fixed his red hair, he bared his teeth. " What're you playing at?", he asked in disbelief, unsure of Y/Ns actions. The girl towered over Ronald and just laughed lightly. Creepy, really. "I beg your pardon? I am merely trying to be polite, yes." "Then what's with the fancy words?", Harry stepped in and raised a brow.

Y/N sighed while rolling her eyes and spun around on her heel, muttering under her breath and shaking her head as she strode opposite their direction. "Dunces.."

Ron was about to lunge at her when Harry restrained him by the arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

From that day on, Ron had developed a great distaste for the Slytherin first-year. The trio was in the courtyard, on a bench and talking. Ron and Harry were rambling about Slytherins, and Hermione decided to join in. As silly as she knew it was, it was quite exciting to join in in the latter. "She's mad! Like all Slytherins, of course. You seen how she talks? And how she smiles, like a madman? Bloody girl's a menace!", Ron complained and huffed. "You know, 𝘪 heard she never gets along with anyone, not even Draco. Many people say that because her mother is an auror, she's gone insane or something." Hermione chirped, accentuating the i.

A stranger in a leather coat and a pointy hat, who had a 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘵 paper in their hands and glued to their face, shuffled and spoke up. "And i heard she's absolutely crazy, and that her mum once went to Azkaban." the anonymous person chimed. Hermione leaned over to see their face but failed, and raised a bushy eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm her.", the stranger pulled the newspaper away from their face and revealed an iconic scowl, and knit eyebrows. Y/N.She stood up and strode away in a swift motion, while Hermione and Ron's jaws were on the floor. "How.. She, what?!" Ron screeched and Harry shrugged with his shoulders.

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

After another such.. Strange incident, Ron decided to never initate a conversation about Y/N, anywhere aside from the Gryffindor common room and dorms. He'd learned the hard way, yes...

Though Y/N didn't seem too phased. She kept calm, and didn't hesitate from talking to the trio whenever she pleased, offering them help or advice, mostly. She wouldn't have much to talk about with a pair of dunces and a know-it-all, did she? Although she wasn't immature, gossip wasn't a reason to stop initiating conversation with someone. She found it childish, whoever found such a reason to be valid.

Professor Binns was giving yet another god-forsaken, discombobulatingly boring lesson on the History of Magic, not even Y/N seemed to want to pay attention much. But, she bothered taking notes of what Professor Binns said in his monotone, depressingly slow, coma-inducing voice.

Y/N sighed desperately as she rolled her wrists and bent her fingers, putting them through unnecessary torture by copying down a long text of nothing useful Professor Binns had said about the history of Hogwarts. She would chew and bite on her cheeks solely out of boredom. Neville was the only eager one to hear to the professor, smiling and writing down every single word the ghost said. Honestly, even Peeves the poltergeist seemed like a better teacher. Ron had fallen fast asleep, and Harry's eyelids were drooping.

Hermione was trying to wake them up with desperacy, nudging their ribcage with their elbows. "Come on you two, wake up!", She whispered with knit eyebrows and sighed. Y/N couldn't help but smirk at this. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she flicked the two boys' foreheads sharply, and they woke up with a groan. "Wakey wakey, you two. We're in class if you didn't forget." Y/N whispered with sassiness and Ronald rubbed his forehead and his eyes.

"Not our fault Binns is so awfully boring.. Makes me drowsy.", he protested and Y/N hummed. " Can't disagree with you on that one, Weasley. You have good reason.."

Hermione smiled weakly and Y/N gave her a wink of reassurance, which was unusual for her. 'She's not so awful', the two of them thought.

[belladonna-wright]

SWYNWRIMO2023

November 11 – Short and Sweet One-Shot: Write ten short-short stories of no more than a paragraph long (can star one or multiple characters.)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, and crime.

I.

“No. No,” Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as she let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry.” She apologised easily to the flustered looking shop assistant who was expecting a full category five customer melt down, by the looks of things. “It’s not your fault.” Jessie insisted, and watched as the woman in front of her seemed to relax more, lulled into that false sense of relief. “I guess I’ll just keep them.” She gestured to the array of expensive face creams, the perfume, the make-up. “Could I get a bag, at least?” Jessie watched as the shop assistant nodded and began to load the ‘returns’ into a paper bag branded with the department store’s logo, ready for Jessie to take back home.

II.

“Excuse me, Sir?” Jessie seemed to practically tremble as she stumbled into the path of the wealthy looking man in a suit. “Could you help me? I’m so-” She cut herself off with a stricken sort of sob. “Somebody stole my purse!” At that the gentleman began to look around, worried about whatever wretched lowlives might be hoping to take his pocketwatch next. He missed the hand dipping expertly into his pocket. “Could you direct me to the nearest police station? Please-” He began to give her the instructions, officiously. Men always were so happy to provide some chivalrous assistance.

III.

“Madame,” Jessie inclined her head politely, as she held up the coat towards the wealthy lady who was tossing her hair back, clearly impatient to get on with the rest of her evening now that dinner was out of the way. Diamonds glittered as she thrust out her chest, and then turned around, arms outstretched to be clad in her fur coat. “Did you enjoy your meal? Oh. Pardon me-” she apologised as she fumbled slightly in slipping the coat onto the woman’s left arm. She did not miss the displeased scoff in the back of the woman’s throat, nor the headshake and the complaint about the quality of the staff going downhill as she walked away. The watch glinted very slightly as Jessie slipped it into her pocket.

IV.

“Oh well actually my boyfriend is buying,” Jessie looked through her eyelashes at the tall man at the bar, who looked put-out for half a second. Then he saw her glance over at the stranger in the booth at the back of the bar. The man was paying her no attention. Jessie made sure she looked a little heartbroken. “I wouldn’t bother with that-” the tall man postured loudly. “I’ll pay. Just you remember it, you can come say thank you later,” he leaned in to whisper it to her. Obviously he was hoping that he would reap some reward for it later. Jessie gave him a coy glance, before gratefully accepting the drink as it was handed to her. She knew who’s tab she was going to be putting the rest of her drinks on then.

V.

“Ah see it’s all about the misdirection, you see?” Jessie laughed, and explained to the small crowd who had gathered around her. “That’s the name of the game with street magic.” She shuffled the cups she was using for a variant on the shell-game yet again, showing off her slight of hand. “So while I’m waving this hand over here-” she waved her right hand up in the air in a dramatic flourish, “My left hand is doing something else.” She showed that hand tipping up one of the cups to palm the pea out from under it. Her right hand patted the poor guy who’d just given her a fiver’s arm. Her left pocketed his car keys.

VI.

Someone shoved a hand into the burly man at the bar’s back. He turned angrily, and shoved the bloke behind him. Someone let out a soft scream and stumbled back away from the two men who were now grabbing each other and starting to shove more. Alcohol and tribal football loyalties were a powerful mix. Jessie reeled back into somebody, who caught her and set her right. She smiled gratefully, and squeezed further back away from the scene as the bouncers made their way in. She slipped the wallet into her coat pocket, as she stepped back out onto the street. 

VII.

“Jess?” Jessie watched as the dark-haired woman began patting down her pockets. “Have you seen my-” Ellen looked up, and then frowned as Jessie dangled her keys in front of her face. Ellen snatched them back, and rolled her eyes. “And I don’t suppose you’d have seen my-” Ellen sighed, wearily. Sure enough, Jessie produced a purse from her other hand. “You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?” She shot, eyebrow raised as she shoved both things into her pockets. “I do.” Jessie smiled a broad grin. Ellen shook her head, then leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you later.”

VIII.

Jessie let out a loud and desperate shriek. “Oh no! No! Stop him!” Predictably, the whole area gathered around the market turned to stare at her, and then to stare at the figure darting away from her through the crowded stalls. A few people made as if to grab the figure, with his bandana pulled up around his eyes. A few kind stall-holders rushed over to Jessie’s side and offered kind hands to help pull her back up. Nobody was looking at the hands that had swiped things from stalls during the whole ordeal.

IX.

The cashier turned their back to start faffing around with removing a security tag from something behind them. Jessie simply couldn’t resist. It was like a reflex. Before she had done anything, her hand had snaked a twenty out of the till. It went unnoticed as she finished being rang up, and dutifully paid. As she walked away the note weighed heavily in her pocket. “Oh fine,” she murmured to herself, and slipped the twenty into a charity box by the door. Bloody conscience.

X.

“Joe?” Jessie hurried towards the man who was smoking in the alleyway. He grunted, confused, and gave her the once over. “Oh thank god, there you are! Mr Hansdown told me to come and find you, you’re supposed to be showing me what to do only I couldn’t find you, and then he was telling me we’re super behind our schedule-” The man cut her off with a wave of his hand, and took a long drag of his cigarette, before he swore and stubbed it out with his shoe. “Nobody bloody tells me anything,” he grumbled, as he crossed back to the side door of the hotel. “You’d better follow me.” Jessie smiled, broadly, behind his back. Yes, she would. And when the office safe was emptied? Well that would be just too bad. 

[fear-ne]

these witches do be bitches

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

SFW🌿

・Cannibal is known as the omen of death. The bringing of destruction. He could not be tamed, as his hunger for other dragons was too strong. Anyway who tried to ride him was killed, either by his dragon fire or by his ferocious nature. 

・You were just a dragon seed. A bastard. A low-born human who felt like no one would ever care about you. You had no purpose. You felt lost in life. 

・But something told you not to lose hope. Just one more day. 

・The world had hardened your heart. Although you still had one, it felt like there was a shell around it. A protective barrier that kept you safe

・It’s known that a dragon rider will bond with a dragon that has similar qualities to them. Like Balerion and Aegon, both had a commanding presence. Visenya and Vhagar, they were both vicious opponents. Rhaenys and Meraxes, were both adventurous dreamers. 

・So it can be said that your nature has ... common traits with the wild Cannibal. 

・He had gotten his name because of his feeding habits. He didn’t hunt specifically for dragons. But if the opportunity was there, he would take it

・Now you know that that isn’t a similarity you share with the Cannibal - you don’t eat dragon ... or ... human. 

・So how could this beast of a dragon be yours? 

・You found out the day you were summoned to the King. Or rather, the Queen, as she now presided over all that of the King’s duties. 

・You had no idea why you had been summoned - you weren’t of noble blood, you weren’t even a servant, just a common townsperson. 

・But the Queen had requested you by name, and that was terrifying ... well, not for you. For her. 

・Cannibal and yourself had grown a reputation of sorts. 

・One of death and destruction. 

・You hadn’t meant to create it like that, but the world had wronged you and you wanted revenge. 

・Maybe it was that fire, that aggression and rage that connected you and Cannibal. 

・Or maybe you two felt like the only beings who weren’t meant to be born

・That your very existence was a mistake

・That you were meant for another world, or another time 

・When Queen Alicent had beckoned for you at court, you flew Cannibal into the training grounds and climbed off his back. 

・You looked at each other and he let out a puff of black smoke. A promise of fire. 

・In the Throne Room Alicent stood in front of the Iron Throne. Her back was incredibly straight. Like a metal rod was making her so. 

・ “My Queen,” you bowed low, your arms opening in such a dramatic sweep that it was obvious you were mocking the custom. 

・And you had the power to. Because Cannibal was right outside, and he would burn this city to the ground if he knew a hand was laid on you. 

・ “Mmm,” her upper lip stiffened and you could see her distaste. It was lovely. 

・ “Why am I here, your grace?” you folded your arms behind your back and stood on one leg. Your body radiating what a waste of your time this was. 

・ “Yes. I have something to ask of you, and I hope you will agree.” 

・She went on to tell you about her son Aemond, and that he needed help with unrest in certain parts of Westeros. Aegon was too important to go and Heleana was too soft. 

・She couldn’t send armies because they needed to stay in King’s Landing because of the opposing Targaryens. 

・Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, and Tessarion would stay here, while Vhagar and Cannibal left. 

・She promised you rank, but you declined. Riches, and that sparked your interest. But she promised you what you desired most - pardons, for all you had done and were to do in the future. 

・ It was during this ... adventure ... that you and Aemond bonded. It was tough at first. He didn’t like you, and you him. 

・But saving his life a few times made him soften up. 

・By the time you came back to King’s Landing, you and Aemond had fallen in love. You had been gone for nearly 2 months. And in that time, you spent nearly every day together. 

・Your personalities weren’t so different. Both of you had big emotions, but you showed it more readily than he. 

・Cannibal and Vhagar were weary of each other for a while. But the fierceness of Cannibal intrigued and delighted the old Vhagar. 

・The relationship continued to deepen in King’s Landing. But Aemond found it difficult because of the displeasure from his mother

・Aemond was set to marry a Baratheon Princess, to strengthen the alliance. And that’s what they needed now, more people on their side than ever. 

・Aemond would tell you these things, and you would shrug:

    “You either have all of me or none at all.” 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: 

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢 & 𝐶𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑏𝑎𝑙: Mermaids by Hans Zimmer

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢 & 𝐴𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑: There’s Always A Flaw by James Newton Howard

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

 ✧ Unhinged x Partially Hinged

 ✧ Forbidden Love

 ✧ We Pretended to Hate Each Other

[hattiewritesalot]

Hello! If you’re taking votes for the Jane volturi fic I’d vote for a part 2 :) it’s really good, love your writing

tysm! that means a lot to me :D

~Misunderstanding~

Jane Volturi x gn!vampire!reader

Part 1 here!

Summary: So it turns out that (Y/N)'s mate is one of the deadliest vampires out there. Which, y'know, isn't good. But it seems the only thing on (Y/N)'s mind is why their twin Alice didn't see it coming.

Warnings: okay so I've accidentally made Alice seem really horrible in this and I am very sorry for that. Also (Y/N) is too funny in this and it goes terribly off-script and off-plot. soz.

A/N: cleaning out my drafts look at me goooo

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

"What the fuck." was the first thing (Y/N) said, it being the first thing that came to mind.

Jane blinked a few times, dark eyelashes fluttering against her alabaster cheeks, before standing up straight and glancing at her brother, before looking back at the group, refusing to look at her mate.

"Come, Aro is waiting."

And with that, she turned and walked towards the elevator, the rest of the vampires, and a lost-looking Bella, following.

The entire elevator trip was silent, besides from the gentle tune of music. Except, it wasn't quiet inside (Y/N)'s mind.

They were holding onto the wall for dear life in an attempt to make sure they wouldn't fall over. Their head flooded with questions, ones that needed answers, as they stared into the back of Jane's head.

That was when they turned to their twin, who was busy staring at the ceiling. They closed their eyes and began speaking in Alice's head, a bonus to their mind-controlling power.

'This is so weird.'

Alice turned to them, acknowledging their statement with a sad smile.

'I know, I could see the way your face fell, I'm sorry (N/N)'

No messages were transferred through minds for a couple of seconds, before (Y/N)'s head shot up and they closed their eyes again.

'Alice?'

'Yeah?'

'How didn't you see this coming?'

'I… don't know what you're talking about.'

'Yes you do, your visions, how did you not-'

(Y/N) turned to glare into the side of their twin's head, who refused to even look them in the eye.

'Did you… know about this?'

'What? Of course… not.'

The conversation was cut off by Edward digging his elbow into (Y/N)'s side, hissing at them to shut up. Oh yeah. They must've forgotten that Edward reads minds. Whoops.

And as the group left the elevator, (Y/N) couldn't help but think that there was something Alice wasn't telling them.

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

The room was large and extravagant, with three elegant chairs in the middle, each occupied by a different vampire.

Aro, you guessed, as he looked exactly like how Carlisle had described him to, rose from his throne thingie, and began speaking. In all honesty (Y/N) was not really listening, instead focusing on the ruby gaze of another vampire.

They didn't look at Jane, in fear of her looking away, but they could almost feel her nervousness. Times like this were when (Y/N) wished they had Jasper's power.

Then, far too quickly, it seemed, Edward was suddenly being beaten up on the floor. Okay, that was rude. Yeah, (Y/N) didn't like Edward very much, often having late-night-talk-shit sessions about him with Rosalie, but that was low.

"Okay emo boy, calm yourself." Aro turned to look at them, as did the rest of the Volturi.

"I know this bitch can be a handful, but don't throw him on the floor because you're mad that his hair is less greasy than yours."

The rest of the vampires seemed shocked, insulted even, but out of the corner of your eye you could see Jane and Felix cover their mouths with their hands to try and hide little laughs.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm just being honest. It's my best quality, y'know." The red-eyed vampire shrivelled up his nose as their teasing. "Somebody get this hideous creature out of my sight." He said, waving his hand dramatically.

"I don't think you can talk about being ugly, you look like you got no love as a child and now drown yourself in hair gel to get some form of attention."

Aro's eyebrows furrowed at their sassy remarks, and turned to Jane. "Jane. Now."

(Y/N) turned to look at Jane, who's slightly panicked eyes met theirs for a second, before she turned to look at Aro again.

"I… cannot."

"Pardon?"

"I- they-"

"They're mates."

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

Alice had finally spoken up, forcing her way through the small crowd. Gasps erupted from around the room as (Y/N) stared harshly into the side of their twin's head.

"I've seen it, in my visions, for longer than I care to admit. We wouldn't want to separate mates, now, would we?" She asked, her tone slightly taunting.

If (Y/N) could cry, they would've in that very moment. How could Alice, their own twin, the one being they cared about more than anything, lie to them like that.

Aro scoffed, turning to Jane for confirmation, who simply dropped her head to stare at her feet.

He turned again to stare deeply into (Y/N)'s golden eyes, before sighing and flicking his wrist.

"We take the (H/C) one. The rest are free to go."

"Wait what? No you can't do that! I-"

(Y/N) stopped speaking as a large object collided with their head and they collapsed. Due to their power, their head was extremely sensitive, and their weakest point.

Jane watched as Demetri carelessly dragged her mate towards her, essentially flinging them at her feet. She kneeled down to move a few stray strands of hair from their face, before retracting her hand as if she had stung herself.

No, this wasn't right.

It had to be one big misunderstanding.

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

[heliotism]

MILK COOKIE GENERAL YANDERE HEADCANNONS.

requested by: @average-unpaid-therapist ! ty for requesting!

warning! worshipping, murder, su!c!de, kind of gore? be careful when reading this one! milk is also very delusional!!

ive been writing those hcs for twenty minutes and i lost everything im gonna sob i have to restart everything

anyway.....,.,.

milk is a huge worshipper, and basically sees you as a god. you're above him, in every possible way.

"what's your religion?" "[y/n]ism" /j

he's so in love with you - absolutely enthralled.

it almost disgusts him. you're his god, you're superior to him. thinking about dating you feels like the biggest sin he could ever commit.

you're just so perfect in every aspect.

and him? he's just a mere worshipper, someone who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you.

anyway. *clears throat*

milk cookie gives you so many gifts everyday. whether it's stuff you like, jewels, or food - or even more symbolic things, like a pendant he says connects the two of you.

after a month, your drawers are filled with all the little things he gave you.

since you're so perfect, milk cookie does not accept any type of [y/n] slander 🤺🤺🤺🤺

even the tiniest things such as 'oh man i suck at this lol' or 'i'm so dumb i forgot about that' are enough to make him go "grrgrgrr stop saying that abt urself"

as if his everyday compliments weren't enough, he'll start to list all your qualities, and trust me, you're in for a very, very long ride.

might take a few hours. might.

and it's even worse if he overhears someone insulting you, even light-heartedly.

he'll rush in to interrupt your conversation and will force the other person to apologize for what they just said, even though you aren't actually offended.

after that, he'll remind the both of you that you are superior to everyone else, and that they had absolutely no right to slander your name.

your friend is kind of weirded out, and therefore, they decide to leave. so now, it's just you and milk.

you are rightfully upset about milk's behavior and decide to confront him about that.

not only that, you also start to feel uncomfortable with the way he seems so obsessed with how 'perfect' and 'god-like' you are.

“milk, can you please stop attacking my friends whenever they jokingly insult me?”

“yes”

l i a r

milk isn't stopping anytime soon, even when he's right next to you, and if he hears people bad mouthing you, he'll be very, very mad.

once again, milk does not accept any type of [y/n] slander 🤺🤺🤺

in milk's mind, those scummy people have no right to slander your name. and if they don't stop, well...

“murder, when done for a good cause, isn't a sin.”

that's the only thing that plays into his mind when he's slaughtering the cookie who dared calling you an 'asshole'. he doesn't hesitate, and he's so violent - but he doesn't care at all.

“such disgusting calumnies must be punished.”

milk is covered in jam, and he feels filthy for that. he's covered in sins. their sins.

him?? he hasn't done anything bad, he just punished the sinners :]

he doesn't feel any remorse, and once he's done, he doesn't even bother to clean up the mess he did.

anyway. this was milk being a violent little thing ☺️☺️☺️💐🌺🌻🌼🌼💮🌸🌷🌷🍀

so, would milk ever consider manipulating you??

certainly not! he'd never do that. he's very careful with his words!!

if anything, you are the one that could possibly manipulate him, if you're an evil, evil person.

everything you ask for, he'll deliver. and if he can't do it, he'll beg for your pardon.

ask him to kill someone in the most brutal way possible? sure! ask him to slander and start false rumors about a close friend of his??

... your wish is his command! milk holds no real care for anyone that isn't you, after all. <3

you can basically use him like a doll. he'll do anything for you.

“if i can please them by doing this, then i don't mind it.”

you can even ask him to hurt himself!

in a world where he'd have kidnapped you (he'd feel so filthy and disgusting for it), you'd probably be mad at him. mad enough to tell him horrible things like, “go kill yourself!”

huh.

well. if you ask for it...

BUT that's just in a time-line where you got kidnapped, and speaking of kidnapping - milk would never dare lay a single finger on you.

literally. touching you without your consent feels like the biggest sin ever, even worse than thinking about dating you. so a full on kidnapping?? that would never happen, unless it was really, really needed.

so, overall, milk is a disastrous yandere to have. he's very dangerous and holds you a bit too close to his heart. and while he'd never hurt you, he can't say the same thing about anyone else...

*throws this at you and runs away*