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raginglesbian2006 · 2 months

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Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 1: The Song is Ended (But the Melody Lingers on)

Chapter Warnings: Murder, Mentions of rape, Death

The song is ended

But the melody lingers on

You and the song are gone

But the melody lingers on

Masterlist

"Have you ever been in love, Alastor?"

The radio static screeched to a halt. Charlie winced at this, covering her ears.

"What brought you to question this, dear?" Alastor asked after recovering from the initial shock, his ever-present grin looking a bit strained.

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Well..," she pointed at the pendant that hung around his neck, sitting atop his garments, "I see you with that beautiful pendant around your neck all the time and you're very protective of it.... so I was just wondering," she trailed off.

Alastor let out a laugh, "Oh my dear, this is nothing," he lied, "Love. What a ridiculous notion!"

Charlie could not help but not believe him, but she let it go anyway; bidding farewell to the radio demon to search for her girlfriend.

Alastor was left alone in his thoughts. His hands reached up to touch the little trinket he sought to wear religiously around his neck.

No, this wasn't nothing. This was everything.

As he walked through the halls of the hotel to reach his room, his mind lingered on you. You were the one who gave him this pendant. You were the one who stole his heart.

Yes, he was in love once. Still is.

He remembers the time he met you- when you became his safe haven. He remembers when you had to leave, far from him and he could do nothing about it.

He also remembers meeting you again- the memory etched in his mind.

It was a bright sunny morning in Louisiana. Alastor was in his studio, narrating the tragic news of the New Orleans Boogeyman striking again. This time, hunting down and killing the nation's "hero", the son of a military veteran. Arnold Miller had followed in the footsteps of his father and had joined the army. His brilliant feats of achievements served as a source of inspiration for every lad in America, more importantly in New Orleans, since it was his place of origin. To everyone else, Arnold was a good soul, always ready to help out people, never backing down from serving the nation he loved so much.

Everyone, except Alastor. Alastor knew of his true nature. Arnold was accustomed to luring in girls - often against their will- taking their dignity, ripping them to shreds, and leaving them to pick up the pieces in front of the ever-scrutinizing society. He used to brag about his "escapades" to his pals, unafraid that anyone would turn against him. Everyone loved him after all. Moreover, he saw no fault in his actions.

Alastor was more than willing to show him his flaws. He regretted not taking care of him earlier, jeopardizing the safety of so many women. But at least he was gone, having faced the end of Alastor's blade. No one would have to deal with another scum like him anymore.

His radio show went on as usual, after the initial murder reports.

He talked about the daily humdrum around the locality, cracked a few jokes on the ever-changing economy, and suggested stores that sold excellent formal wear. This was a routine he'd come to love during his time as a radio host. He was satisfied with the predictability of his shows, and his life by extension.

All in all, he was happy with the hand he was dealt with.

"That is all for today, folks! Be sure to lock your doors tonight and refrain from walking alone at night. You never know when the Boogeyman might jump up behind you!" he chuckled, "And don't forget to smile! You're never fully dressed without one!"

He turned off his feed and sighed as he slumped against his chair. He couldn't wait to go back home already. His ma, although sick, had pestered him to never skip a day of his work. She'd told him he looked miserable whenever he did skip work and she wished nothing but happiness for him.

He assured her that he was happy to stay at home to take care of her but her stubbornness knew no bounds.

"I suppose I do get my grit from her," he wondered.

He took off his headphones and stood up from his chair, stretching his long limbs in the process. He started cleaning up his station, when suddenly he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, not looking up at the opening door.

"Mr. Alastor!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

It was the young lad he had hired for the smooth running of his little business. Oliver had been thrown to the streets having been unable to pay his rent and Alastor had found him shivering in a corner of the street. Taking pity on him, the radio host offered him a job and a place to stay near the studio. Since then, Oliver had become a rather loyal help to him. Had it not been for his astounding marketing skills, Alastor's radio show would've been far from popular.

"Ah, Oliver!," Alastor hummed, still not looking up at him. He was rather busy making sure his studio was left prim and proper, "Do tell me, how can I be of service?"

Oliver was jumping with excitement, "Well, remember we were having a chat on how the radio station needed a few more hands to handle it, given its booming popularity?"

Alastor hummed as he repositioned the antiquities his mother had gifted him when he opened his studio.

"Well, I found someone willing to take on the ever-daunting task!" Oliver exclaimed and stepped aside, "Meet our newest employee!"

Alastor, still stuck in his own world didn't look up until he heard a sweet voice ringing through.

"Greetings, Mr. Alastor!"

His hands paused for a second. This voice... he'd recognize it anywhere. He turned around abruptly and finally looked at his overexcited acquaintance and the recently recruited employee.

It was you. His breath got caught up in his chest.

"Salutations," he said softly, his mind still not having caught up with the fact that you were in front of him, alive, "May I ask what your name is?"

You uttered what he had wanted to hear. His eyes could not believe it. After all these years, he was finally able to see you. The very person who'd become his safe haven when he was young, the person who'd comforted him during those dark times- when he ran away from home, when he felt scared and alone, the person who'd given him the pendant he wore religiously around his neck before they left.

"Oliver, " he glanced at the boy, "Do go get them a drink. It is quite unsightly for us to not treat the newest addition to our business."

Despite your protests, Oliver nodded his head and ran out the door, eager to please his boss.

When the door closed shut, Alastor let out the breath he was holding in since he saw your face.

He muttered your name, "Dear, is it really you?"

Your eyes blinked for a few seconds before they scrunched up with your growing smile, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me, Al."

Alastor laughed in disbelief, "Forget you? What utter nonsense. Forgetting you would be a sin so great that even Lucifer would shy away from it."

He slowly approached you, "Besides, " his hands went up to the pendant, "How could I afford to forget when you gifted me this?"

Your eyes shone and you giggled, "You still have that!" Your hands reached out to touch the pendant, but you hesitated and they stayed frozen in the space between the two of you.

Before you could apologize for invading his personal space, his hands drew yours closer. You stumbled forward, placing your hands on his chest, right over the pendant that lay atop it. You blushed at the sudden proximity. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you close. You dared to look up at him.

"By golly, you seem to have gotten much taller," you chuckled, pushing up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "Last I remember, you were still shorter than me."

His eyes and smile had grown softer, far from his usual demeanor.

"And you still look as beautiful as the day I lost you."

As if your face couldn't possibly get more heated, he managed to make it boiling hot. You tried uttering a response but stuttered halfway through. Taking pride in how he made you speechless, Alastor asked, "When did you arrive here?"

You finally found your voice, "O-oh, I just moved in yesterday! I needed a fresh new environment after having finished my schooling and I decided to come here. I was looking around for a job this morning when I stumbled upon Oliver and he offered me a position at your radio station!"

Alastor tsked, still holding you close, "Cher, you cannot just accept some stranger's proposal for a job. What if he lured you into something dangerous?"

"He told me about your radio show and I trust you with my life so...." you trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alastor chuckled as he shook his head. Letting go of you, he stepped back to pick up the coat that was hanging on his chair. Just as he was doing so, the door burst open to reveal Oliver with a piping hot kettle and a mug.

"I do apologize. Mr. Alastor here only likes drinking coffee so we have no other beverages available," Oliver explained, as he placed the utensils down on the nearby table.

"That won't be necessary now, dear boy," Alastor continued, "I'll be showing them around our city. Do keep the studio prepared and the articles ready for the evening broadcast."

And with that, he offered you his arm, "Shall we?"

You grinned and looped your arm around his and the two of you walked out, leaving behind a very confused Oliver.

"What just happened-"

Alastor's smile widened at the memory. He vividly remembers spending every waking hour with you beside him, now that he'd found you again. He had grown terribly attached to you, but you did not mind it one bit. You enjoyed the attention he showered you with and his company was something you looked forward to each day.

Oliver always joked about the two of you getting together. So it wasn't a surprise to him when you two eventually started courting each other. All he did was lament about being the miserable third wheel.

Alastor remembers how his daily "escapades" had reduced significantly with the more time he spent with you. He did not even realize that fact until the newspapers reported on the disappearance of the New Orleans Boogeyman.

His smile had strained when he'd read the article, his anger growing by every second. How dare they think of him as a coward?

However, all those thoughts dissipated at the sound of your voice. Oh, how you had captured his mind, body, and soul.

He introduced you to his ma soon after he started courting you. Although she couldn't see you properly, given her ailing health and age, she still welcomed you with open arms.

As he stopped going on his "hunts" frequently, his relationship with you grew stronger. You were there with him in every new chapter of his life. When he celebrated his 100th broadcast, you were there celebrating with him. When he experimented with his own twist on his mother's jambalaya, you were right there tasting his creation. When his mother eventually passed away, you were right there comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

On his 30th birthday, you gave him a gift he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He had been complaining about how only one of his eyes had problems with vision and that wearing a pair of glasses proved to be detrimental to his other healthy eye. Taking that into consideration, you had gifted him a monocle. You apologized for how small the gift was and told him that he could return it if he wasn't pleased with it. He had silenced you with a kiss.

You were all he thought about. A life with you beside him was everything he wanted. That is why, he stood there in front of the jewellery shop, inspecting and choosing the perfect ring to propose to you with.

When he was satisfied with his pick, he had stored the little box inside his coat pockets. Oh, how he wished his ma was there to witness all of this. She had always wanted to see him married to someone, happily living the rest of his life under the love and care of his spouse.

Things were just perfect, more than ever before.

Until karma came knocking on his door. Literally. His dead heart still pains at the memory.

Alastor had never lost control of his life after he "took care" of his father. He prided himself on that. It was the control he was after, once he landed in hell and that is what made him a formidable overlord.

But the day he lost you? He'd never felt more helpless.

Alastor brushed some dirt off his clothes as he hummed to the tune of the radio playing in the background. His calm demeanor would fool most but he was undeniably nervous.

Today was the day he would ask you to be his, forever.

Alastor had called you to the little cabin he'd bought in the forest, which also served as his hunting ground- be it for deer or despicable humans.

No matter the atrocities he committed, one could not deny how beautiful the forest looked at night. Fireflies would scatter across the expanse of the land, making nighttime all the more lovelier.

Alastor had planned to get down on one knee with the night sky lit by stars and the glow from the fireflies. He believed it would be the perfect romantic atmosphere to propose to you.

Not long after, he heard a knock at the door. His smile grew impossibly large as he giddily opened the door. Instead of seeing you, however, his face was met with the end of a gun.

"See you in hell, murderer."

Alastor quickly ducked out of the way, letting the bullet whiz past him and hit the wall. The man who held the gun let out a grunt, displeased that his shot missed. Although the man was twice his size, Alastor was able to tackle him to the ground. Still, the man would not let go of his gun, leading the two of them to struggle for the weapon.

"You fucker- you deserve to die for what you did!" screamed out the man.

Alastor let out a laugh, his face looking strained, "I just did what those scums deserved."

In the middle of their struggle, the trigger was pulled once more and Alastor heard the gunshot. The bullet missed him again, this time shooting toward the entrance of the cabin. He hadn't looked away from his opponent for a moment, fearing he'd take advantage of the situation and kill him. However, his ears picked up a singular gasp.

His eyes widened as he looked towards the door, left ajar.

It was you.

Bleeding out of your skull.

Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring at Alastor. Your body trembled as you slid down the door, blood profusely dripping from your head and onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Then, with a loud thump, you fell back, taking your last breath.

Alastor felt his soul leave his body.

no...no...surely this was a dream, right?

Taking advantage of Alastor's vulnerability, the man shoved him aside and got up on his feet, pointing the gun at Alastor.

"Too bad the little missus had to go. It wouldn't have happened if you did not do what you did," the man sneered.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Alastor took ahold of his gun and with all the strength in his body, pushed it out of the man's grasp. The gun flew to the side of the cabin, leaving the man unarmed.

Alastor stood up slowly, his facial muscles stretching in a maniacal grin. The man backed down slowly, his body trembling slightly.

"YOU. MADE. A. GRAVE. MISTAKE."

With that, Alastor pounced on the man and started beating him relentlessly, laughing all the while. He did not stop till the man's face had become red and blue beyond recognition and his chest stopped heaving.

Silence enveloped the cabin. In it was Alastor- his hands covered in blood, and two bodies. Alastor walked away from the dead body of the man and moved towards your lifeless figure.

Despite his maniacal grin still present, his eyes welled up with tears as he held your body close. His heart throbbed with immense pain and his mind turned foggy. All he could do was cry into your shoulder, wishing this was all a dream.

The night he was supposed to end with you as his spouse-to-be had now turned into him burying the love of his life. When he was done, he reached out for a stone and carved your initials on it, placing it atop your grave. He sat there for a while. His hands reached into his pocket and he pulled out the ring. He placed it on the stone.

His chest pained as he walked away from your grave. He would come back soon, he just had to dispose of the scum that decided to take his light away from him. Just as he started to turn the wheelbarrow that contained the remains of the man, he heard another gunshot.

This time, it did not miss.

Alastor fell to the floor of the forest. He sidled up to your grave painstakingly, abandoning the wheelbarrow. Blood poured rapidly from his head. Those god-awful hunters had shot him under the cover of this grim night. He somehow managed to rest himself against the tree that was situated right beside your resting place.

"Oh cher, " he wheezed out, "I suppose I wouldn't mind dying next to you."

As if things couldn't get worse, he heard the growls of the hunting dogs close by. His grin widened. So this was how karma came around, taking everything away from him. All that was left was himself.

His bleary eyes followed the imposing figures of the hunting dogs as they surrounded his dying body.

He reached out his hand towards the pendant.

Alastor couldn't even scream when the beasts tore into his body.

"Alastor?"

The radio demon turned towards the princess of hell, her hands laden with plans for the hotel.

"Yes, dear?"

Charlie hesitated, "You seemed a bit lost there. Are you ok?"

Alastor let out a laugh, "Just as jolly as the day I came to hell. Haha!"

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x angel!reader

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sherimoonzombie · 1 year

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❤ These "Red Hot P😻ssy Liquor" shirts are back by popular demand at Local Boogeyman - get your pre-orders in today! 👉 https://www.localboogeyman.com/collections/t-shirts/products/baby-pre-order ❤

#local boogeyman #we like to get fucked up #sheri moon zombie #rob zombie #house of 1000 corpses #baby firefly #zomboogey #pre order

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osirisisv · 1 year

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Local Boogeyman too old to commit war crimes! 👴🏻🎃🔪

Peepaw my beloved <3

#michael myers #michael myers 2018 #peepaw michael myers #peepaw myers #halloween kills #halloween 2018 #halloween #halloween ends #the boogeyman #the shape #slasher fanart #slasher fandom #slasher fucker #slasher thirst #slashers #myart

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iovesia · 7 months

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❛⠀TAKE MY BREATH AWAY.

kinktober 2023. — day one.

synopsis. a simple job as a counselor at your local summer camp becomes more than what you bargained for when bodies start dropping.

✶⠀ ׅ⠀ ࣪⠀warnings. slasher!john wick 𝑥 f!reader — extreme dub-con. fuck or die. murder. gore. doggy position. machetes. size kink. major character death. friday the 13th au. 1.5k words.

josie's little note. slutty slasher szn's officially begun! i'm vv excited to share this with you guys! had to postpone this fic for a hot second— but hope you enjoy ♡🔪 !!

THE CHILDREN’S SCREAMING ECHOED THROUGH YOUR BRAIN.

You groaned, rubbing your temples tiredly as the sun beamed down on you. Your terribly short camp counsellor uniform allowed the rays to gently warm your skin, as you adjusted the sun glasses on your face. It was a nauseatingly hot summer’s day in July— and the joyus screams of the campers festered a migraine.

“Hey, don’t run!” You call out to the two little girls whose feet padded alongside the lake bend. The two pigtailed wearing campers merely giggle at your expense, before continuing to run down to the dock filled with other campers.

Lifeguard duty was truly your least favourite shift. You’d give anything to trade places with Michela’s aerobics group or Jake’s hiking activity. Anything to get out of this unbearable July sun. Sweat beads spouted on your forehead as you weaky fanned yourself with today’s schedule.

A sudden loud burst snaps you from your sweaty daze as you jump up in surprise. Your eyes catch the sight of two older kids and a sad, torn inflatable toy. The plastic swims along the lake as the two boys look awkwardly at you.

“Are you kidding me?!” you groan, irritation burning on your skin along with the heat. Pulling your red shades back down, you make your way down to the dingy, old shack near the docks. A dusty little storage unit that your camp director keeps putting off on rebuilding. You let out a cough when the cloud of dust hits your face. The door damn near tears off from its weak, copper hinge.

“I’m so not doing this gig again,” you mumble bitterly as you enter. The soft rays of sunshine in through the cracked window as you search for a replacement inflatable. The dusty plastic toy catches your eye on the bottom shelf, and as you lean down to grab it—

Ch. Ch. Ch. Ah. Ah. Ah.

The hoarse quiet whisper that’s been haunting you for the last two weeks of summer. The whisper that echoed in your ears, and sent the cool breeze down your spine. The whisper that had a pair of eyes watching you.

YOU RAN.

Your worn out converse hit the bark of the forest, the tree branches slapping roughly against you as you hurry through the dark outdoors. The stain of Michela’s blood on your face, and the stench of it that burned your nostrils boiled bile in your throat.

Ch. Ch. Ch. Ah. Ah. Ah.

That whisper rings through the forest, along with the sound of metal slashing and a masculine scream… then a loud thud. Your friends were being slaughtered left right and centre. The memories of Jake’s decapitated head rolling towards you made you want to hurl, scream and cry all at once. But, for now you just ran. Ran from the 6’1, machete wielding maniac.

You heard the folk stories, and the legends of John Wick— the boogeyman. What was supposed to be one of Brad’s stupid stories to scare the boys and girls at camp, became your unfortunate reality.

Stupidly, you run onto the docks, leaving you in the wide open. For a moment, all goes quiet. You pant loudly and weakly, sobs wracking your chest as you look around tearfully for any means of escape.

Ch. Ch. Ch. Ah. Ah. Ah.

Creak.

A heavy footstep rests on the dock. Followed by another.. And then another.

You’re too terrified to turn around— or too slow to do anything as a large hand snatches your shoulder, and spins you around to face the inevitable. Letting out a blood curdling scream when you come face to face with your worst nightmare. John.

The brutish giant who towered over you, wearing what appears to be a leather coat and jeans— all gloriously painted with the blood and guts of your fellow counsellors. He glared at you coldly, his hand damn near pushing you back off the dock and into the murky waters. You watch frozen in fear as his blood covered hand lifts his machete, preparing you for your demise.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” You sob desperately, the moonlight bouncing off the machete and shining onto your face as John holds you over the ledge of the dock. “Please, don’t do this! I’ll do anything!”

John stares at you blankly, his firm hand still gripping tightly onto your top. Time freezes for what feels like ages before he lifts you back up off the ledge. He quirks his brow, his facial expression speaking for himself.

“Anything, please, just don’t kill me,” you beg desperately. John’s eyes trail from your puffy red face, past your breathing neck, to your breasts that rose up and down with each shaky breath. The colour drains from your face when you follow his eyes that scan your body hungrily. Wordlessly, you knew. John’s quick in his movements to push your helpless body down to the dock floor.

A loud wooden crack rings out and pain blooms in your side as your head bangs against the docks. Your delicate face scratched along the rough wood of the docks as John’s machete slices cleanly up the pant-leg of your shorts. The bloodied metal snags at your underwear as well as the flimsy material falls off your body and you gasp at the sudden cold wind hiding your rear and cunt. Humiliating tears brim your eyes when John’s grimy hands spread you apart, his knee pushing yours further out— almost putting you on display.

John’s low breathing reverberates in your ears and you hear the glob of spit forming between his lips as it stretches down, hitting your cold skin. Your body trembles as John’s fingers slide the spit in between your folds, and rip a gasp from your throat as he plunges his index and pointer finger into your small hole.

“Shit— fuck—” you hiss under your breath.

John simply hums at your reaction, his face remains stoic. If he’s enjoying your reactions, he’s not showing it. He slides his fingers in and out of your cunt, his one act of mercy to prepare you for his final kill. Your dignity. The squelching of your wet cunt plays over the sound of crickets and the lake moving. His agonisingly slow movements serve to prolong this tortuous and depraved experience. You whimper when John’s hands disappear, leaving your empty cunt to clench the air.

Ziiiipppp.

Swallowing the lump in your throat as you hear John’s belt buckle hit the floor. His large hand suddenly presses your head down harder against the wooden dock, the faint splinters digging into your soft cheeks. Tears well in your eyes, and you internally pray to the souls of your dead colleagues for forgiveness for what’s about to happen. Just as you try to lift your head up against his hand, your eyes meet your reflection as the machete violently stabs into the dock… Right next to your head.

“Don’t.”

He says firmly, sending chills down your spine. You whimper, like a little lamb to the slaughter. John’s hand returns to your head, his grip tighter as he holds you down. The head of his thick tip teasingly slides up and down between your wet folds. His other hand holds tightly onto the fat of your waist, dirty nails digging into your soft skin as his fat cock plunges slowly into your cunt.

His cock just hit so deep, and your small pussy is stretched to the brim. A choked sob dies in your throat as John’s eyes grow half-lidded, and a quiet sigh escapes from him. Your warm cunt engulfed him so well as he gradually moved his hips back and forth. His mushroom tip kissed your cervix, you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

You whimpered and sobbed, your lower lip in between your pearly white teeth as you bite down. The maroon copper taste fills your mouth with John’s unrelenting thrusts only getting faster. As a fruitless attempt to dry your tears up, you squeeze your eyes closed. John’s cock keeps rhythmically moving in and out of your walls, using your warm body like a ragdoll. Hot tears slide down your face, and John’s sweat hits your back, his dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes never left the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

Something stirred in your lower belly, and your toes curled in your converse shoes as guilt swam in your chest. You opened your legs, and spread your cunt for the assailant who murdered your friends.. and you were enjoying it.

John’s hold on your body grew harder, when his thrusts got faster and faster. Through short huffs and tight grips, you could tell he was close. Suddenly, you felt John spurt a thick rope inside of you, filling your exhausted cunt to the brim with his seed. The pants and sobs fall from your mouth as your body collapses against the dock. The pleasure quickly be replaced with shame and horror, as John stands up, towering over your frame.

You wince at the sharp sound of the machete being pulled from the docks. Your eyes follow his every move as his bloodied hand holds the handle of the machete, lifting it above his head, his dark eyes squint at you. Your eyes widen.

“No.. No, no, wait!”

Fin.

— taglist. @alwaysinblck @sickzmbie @hearteyedbambi @worldsgreatestsinner @rizunaur @cillivnz @beansricejc @97keanu @the-trash-site @keanuthot @sulibbyyyyy @20s7nn @aerangi @alyssagames01 @prongsio @starrgurl46 @nogr4vity

join the kinktober taglist here.

#𓂃 josie's kinktober ˚ ₊ ‧#john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick imagine #john wick smut #kinktober

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cinnaminsvga · 3 months

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🥀 | 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?”

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #min yoongi #the sleep deprived series #this has been IN MY DRAFTS for months now....#god i am so stuck in my monster phase #i want to write more... MORE...#is this what it feels like to be inspired #idk who i think i am but man... love this guy #kinda obsessed with this au tee bee aych

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sliced-n-diced · 7 months

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Local serial killer (Reader) increasingly annoyed at some new guy ( what kind of dumb name is "Ghostface" anyway???) moving in on their territory...who the hell does this new guy think he is trying to take THEIR title of local boogeyman?! Sure..they havent Actually gotten a kill in a while (turns out you can get art block for murder) but still!!

Jed, local new guy, trying to get a genuine date with Reader after gaining a small interest in them during their first meeting and just keeps failing at it (hes Never failed to score a date like this what the fuck!?)

Cue love square/Enemies to Lovers tropes

#danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #dbd x reader #danny johnson x male reader #ghostface x male reader #ghostface x gn reader #jed olsen x reader #dbdimagines #dead by daylight x reader

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mapsontheweb · 6 months

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Wherever you are in the world, you’ve probably heard of the Boogeyman: A mythical creature often used by adults to scare children into exhibiting good behavior…

But did you know that the Boogeyman has no specific appearance and that the concept varies by location and culture?

Right in time for Halloween, TheToyZone trawled through books and articles to uncover the most unique examples of local boogeymen around the world: https://thetoyzone.com/nightmare-fuel-iterations-of-the-boogeyman

#maps #submission #cryptids #mythical creatures

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2kmps · 7 months

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IN A SLEEPY TOWN

headless horseman x reader masterlist | ao3

story synopsis; “the horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

in the sleepy town of Moorwick, you are drawn into the legend of the horseman when you learn it is associated with your father’s disappearance twenty years ago. when the local ghost story turns to be anything but that, and a bargain goes awry, you delve into moorwick’s dark history with hopes of saving more than just yourself.

story warnings; graphic descriptions of gore & violence, stalking, manipulation, murder, brief mention of child murder, mc gets injured quite often, brief mentions of suicide, frightening & grotesque imagery, horror, manhandling bc the horseman is a tank, elements of mystery, very detail + prose heavy, implied parental negligence, mental illness is discussed at length in certain chapters. originally posted 11/2019.

thank you, @ceruleansol for proofreading 💙

chapter synopsis & links

chapter one; you travel to the sleepy town of moorwick in search of your missing father. with little more than some luggage and your car, you're immediately steeped in the mysterious ways of the residents and of their local boogeyman— the headless horseman.

chapter two; you spend a better portion of your day in the archives of the moorwick public library researching the phenomena surrounding the town. by nightfall, you wander into the haunted forest to confront these myths yourself

chapter three; with the town of moorwick abuzz for the parade, you make every effort to escape your pact with the horseman, only to be thwarted by suspicious circumstances. when you’re lured back to the atticus, your next encounter with the horseman is anything but pleasant

chapter four; some time has passed and you continue to return to the atticus, no closer to solving the mystery of the horseman’s head. after an encounter with the dead, along with something far worse, you were beginning to understand the horseman’s existence wasn’t so straightforward.

chapter five; you could no longer refute that your relationship with the horseman was more complex than you initially thought it to be. what did it mean? Just as you’re coming to terms with this, colson offers a gift that could change everything. and moorwick’s more prestigious residents let you know that there are eyes always watching.

chapter six; you are determined to get answers from the horseman regarding the whereabouts of your father. It goes horribly awry. to make matters worse, new information comes your way about the peculiarities of moorwick, making the search for the horseman’s head far more complex and there are some people determined to keep it that way.

chapter seven; following that bloody night in the forest with the horseman, you couldn’t bring yourself to go back. It’s only after a startling revelation from asta lang that you find the courage to return; albeit you find that the horseman isn’t your only encounter.

chapter eight; the mystery deepens as you confront the one person who may know more about colson’s intentions than anyone else: theodore sinclair. As the nature of your relationship to the horseman evolves, you’re left wondering what it all means.

chapter nine;

chapter ten;

chapter eleven;

this is a series repost from my deleted blog officiallytheduchess/cardeneiv. chapters 1-8 are not up-to-date with my current writing style, thus you are likely to see shifts in focus and storytelling as a result.

I do intend to revamp this series once officially completely and rebuild it from the ground up. as my skills as a writer have grown, so has potential for this story and the world within.

please reblog the individual chapters & the masterlist! reblogs are the only way that work gets shared around this platform and it's important to do so!

©️2kmps. all published work for this series belongs to me. you may not reproduce, translate, or publish it on any other platform without my explicit consent. fanworks are permitted with clear and obvious credit.

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