sleepr-agent420

[sleepr-agent420]

gale picking fights with other tributes and bucky having to fucking babysit him. "dude come on why are you trying to kys before the games u suck."

[sleepr-agent420]

Hear me out:

John taking Gale’s toothpick out of his mouth and putting it into his own without breaking eye contact the entire time

Gale lighting John’s cigarette for him while it’s in his mouth and then later taking it out of his mouth and casually taking a drag off it himself before handing it back to John’s amused and bewildered delight

John and Gale trading the same piece of gum back and forth, chewing a few times before taking it out with their hand and putting it into the other’s mouth

That is all

[sleepr-agent420]

[sleepr-agent420]

grabbing their hair to make them bare their throat to you for wings possibly

On AO3 here Prompt Gale's been recaptured by Martin, who's not happy his pet escaped him. Hurt, absolutely no comfort (yet). Set before the other Wings whump I have.

He wasn’t surprised, not really. He knew John couldn’t keep him safe. Hoped? Yeah, he’d hoped. But that was the thing about hope, Gale thought, it was blind, based off nothing but some nice words and a smile. He knew better. He did. And yet… He’d fallen for it. Fallen for John. Fallen for the hope he offered, the safety of his words, the warmth of his hands. And look where it’d gotten him.

“Nice try, Bluebird,” Martin’s voice, cruel and cold, amused, and Gale flinched away from it, “thought you could fly the roost, huh? Well, guess we’re gonna have to do something about that delusion,” Martin continued, Gale shrinking in on himself, his bound wings trembling, “someone took good care of you, at least, huh, pet?” he said, and though it was phrased as a question, Gale knew better than to answer. Even if he could answer. He had been drugged, bound and gagged, a blindfold tied too tight around his eyes, before being thrown in the back of a truck. Gale flinched when he felt a hot, large hand land on his wings— his newly grown, healthy feathers— and bit down hard into his gag. Martin made an unimpressed noise as he stroked the feathers and Gale curled tighter in on himself, bracing himself.

“Gotta clip these pretty wings, huh?” Martin asked nobody in particular, grabbing a handful of the brilliant blue feathers and ripping them out of Gale’s sensitive wing. The gag helped muffle the scream, but Martin still heard, a wicked grin splitting his face as he held the handful of sapphire up, as if trying to get a better look at them. Gale sobbed around the ball of fabric and rope in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut under the blindfold. He refused to think about John, refused to send out a silent plea for the human to find him. He wouldn’t. That would just welcome hope in, and he couldn’t handle more of that. Couldn’t handle more false words, broken promises, deceitfully soft touches. Because at the end of the day, Martin was right. Gale was a pet. Something to be owned. Contained. Used.

“Get him out of here,” Martin barked at someone, ignoring Gale’s whimpers and sobs, the way the gag felt like it was choking him, his whole body trembling in terror and pain. Three sets of hands grabbed at him and he tried to scream, tried to thrash and struggle, but Martin grabbed another handful of his carefully regrown and kept feathers and Gale stilled, chest heaving.

“You’re gonna wanna be a good lil’ pet for me right now, bluebird,” Martin whispered into Gale’s ear and Gale was no stranger to the dangerous, knife-sharp tone. He tried to nod, to show he understood, and relief flooded him when Martin released his terrible hold on his wing. The sets of hands returned, grabbing at him and hauling his body— still and pliant, the only movement, his ribs expanding and contracting with his harsh, panicked breaths— away. He was almost relieved when he was dropped onto something dangerously soft, but then he felt it move, rolling under him, and he sobbed again. The three men moving him were muttering to each other, laughing and joking, but Gale’s ears were ringing too loud for him to understand anything they said. He didn’t know where he was being taken and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The cart he was on stopped suddenly and Gale’s body jolted, still bound tightly with his arms and ankles behind his back, tucked under his equally tightly bound wings. One of the men said something, the others both making noises in response, and then Gale was being lifted as if he weighed nothing. Which, he supposed, had to be true, John had constantly been trying to get him to put on weight— no, Gale jerked his wrist in the ropes, feeling the burn on the open sores, making himself refocus, no, he wouldn’t think about John. He couldn’t think about John. He was already chipped, cracks spreading, but thinking about John? That would splinter him. Martin would enjoy that far too much.

“I dunno, man, maybe just the legs?” The words punched through the fog in his brain as he was dropped, carelessly, onto the ground. Gale felt the concrete scrape along his clothed belly and ribs, felt his bones protest the fall, felt the cracks in his just-recently-healed ribs.

“It can’t do much with its wings and arms bound, I think the legs’ll be fine,” another one said. Gale cringed and whimpered, the stark reminder that Martin and all his men viewed him as an object, as property, in the man’s words.

“Shut it,” that was the first one again, his steel-toed boot connecting painfully with Gale’s hip. Gale bit down on the gag, stifling the yelp that would have gotten him in more trouble.

“Ya, free its legs,” the third piped up after a moment, the sound of a knife being freed from a sheath following his words. Gale tried to hold still when a knee landed on his side, digging in painfully, a hand grabbing the rope holding his ankles to his hands. When it gave to the sharp blade, his legs instantly swinging to sit straight, knees and feet smacking into the hard, cold, unforgiving concrete, Gale wanted to sob. As much as it hurt to whack his legs on the floor, the instant rush of blood returning to his limbs felt infinitely better. The knee in his side shifted, the owner sitting heavy on his legs, and the knife sawing at the rope wrapped multiple times around his lower legs, binding them together. When it gave, Gale turned his face into the floor, stifling his relieved groan— though it morphed into a barely surprised yelp of pain when the knife sliced into his leg.

“Oops,” the second voice said, though he didn’t sound upset or apologetic at all. And then the weight was off his legs, a knife returned to it’s home, and the three steps of footsteps started to retreat. Gale tuned them out the moment he knew they were leaving, waiting till the door slammed shut, lock clicking, before he dared to move. The concrete had leeched what little body heat he’d had before, and he shivered as he struggled into a seated position. For the moment, they’d left his clothes— though he was sure Martin would come for those— and Gale was grateful for the small amount of warmth the thin shirt and threadbare jeans provided. He shifted himself backwards until he felt the wall against his sore wings, letting himself lean against it. His ribs hurt, his jaw hurt, his eyes hurt, and his knees and feet and ankles were starting to hurt. He could feel blood along his inner calf, the cut the man had given him after freeing his legs, as if to remind Gale he was property.

As if Gale didn’t remember well enough already.

He leaned his head back against the wall, wishing that they’d at least removed his gag, teeth clenching the soggy fabric to keep it from slipping too far back in his mouth. But, he supposed, he was being punished. It wouldn’t be a punishment if he weren’t miserable, would it? The fact they’d undone his legs was already a small blessing. So, Gale sat there, jaw clenched, leaning against the wall, clearing his mind of anything, retreating into the small place within himself that he’d hoped to never go to again.

Hope.

There is was again.

He’d thought he’d rid himself of it years ago, then John had come crashing in— literally, although it was Curt who crashed through the door, the sentiment still stood, in Gale’s mind, anyways— and reignited that spark. It had roared too big, too fast, too hot, while he’d been with John. Now he was getting burnt and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

His shoulders were aching, his arms long since gone numb, and Gale let himself fall sideways, letting his shoulder take the impact, feeling the joint scrape against itself before popping out of the socket. A dislocated shoulder, while maybe painful, was the least of his concerns. Gale knew Martin had much, much worse in mind. How many times had he spouted colourful threats when Gale hadn’t even been thinking about escape? Well, now he hadn’t just thought about it, he had done it, but he’d only made Martin mad, only given him a reason to carry out all those horrible things. Martin would. Happily. Gale had no doubt. John had promised. He’d promised and assured and reassured Gale. Martin would never find him, never catch him, never torture him.

It had been a lie.

The driver had said something about having to pay someone, the person who’d turned Gale in, how someone had tried to skim something off the top but been caught. How whoever had called him had had the sense to count their payment and how he’d had nearly gotten a bullet for their hard work, all because the other had tried to steal. How he’d actually been stealing from Martin. How he was going to report his partner for that.

It had been around that point that Gale finally realized he wasn’t alone in the back of that van. That there was someone else, though he didn’t sound tied up. He sounded like he’d had the shit beat out of him to the point he couldn’t move, and therefore wasn’t worth wasting rope on.

That must be where Martin was, then, Gale thought, trying to distract himself from the focal point of the memory. If he thought about the other man sent to retrieve him, and the punishment he must be receiving, Gale didn’t have to think about how he was sold out, how someone had told Martin where to find him in exchange for a good chunk of change. Gale didn’t know how much the information sold for, but he knew Martin, and he knew how obsessed Martin was with him. It didn’t go cheap.

Gale shook his head, trying to refocus on the thief, wondering how Martin would punish him. If Martin would kill him in the end. Maybe that would get enough of Martin’s rage out that by the time he came to Gale, he’d be even the slightest bit merciful. Maybe Martin would drag the would-be thief's punishment out so long he’d wear himself out, wear his anger down to a dull arrowhead, only capable of bruising his ribs, not puncturing through his body, dragging blood and organ with it.

That… felt unlikely. Gale knew he was, and would remain, the main focus of Martin’s anger. After all, he wouldn’t have had to get his men to go pay a man for information about Gale if Gale hadn’t run away in the first place. No, this was, at its core, Gale’s fault.

And Gale knew would pay Martin back.

Maybe not in money, but definitely in blood.

Gale turned his head into the concrete, a muffled sob forcing its way out of the gag, as he curled in on himself, knees to his chest, despite the ache that set off through his hips. He was used to going to sleep in pain, though it had been a few months since he’d had to. The skill didn’t seem to have left him, though, Gale thought thankfully, as he felt sleep pull at his consciousness. He let it take him.

Ever attuned to his surroundings, Gale burst awake out of a deep sleep when he heard the clicking of a lock, the creaking of a door. He forced himself to sit up— though it was hard, his ribs ached and his bound hands were useless— and leaned against the wall, drawing his legs to his chest to make himself look small. He didn’t know who was there, only that someone was.

“Have a nice nap, bluebird?” Martin asked, voice deceptively soft. Gale barely kept from flinching. “Ya. Ya, you did, didn’t you?” Martin continued, uncaring about the lack of response from his captive prize, “I had other matters to attend, bluebird, but I’m here now. Do you know why I’m here now?” Martin asked and Gale heard his footsteps halt in front of him, could smell him as he bent over, his hot, acrid breath brushing along Gale’s face. He tried not to react, but he flinched, shoulders pulling up to his ears.

“Boss,” a new voice said from the doorway and Gale heard the clicking of a cart being pushed along the hall, stopping and then starting again, clanging as it went through the door frame. Gale stiffened at the sound. He knew that cart. Knew it alarmingly well.

“Leave it and go,” Martin barked, straightening, likely to look at all his toys and tools. Gale took a deep, shuddering breath, even if the gag made it hard. He was grateful for the breathe a moment later when Martin’s hand grabbed his dislocated shoulder, jerking him to his feet, uncaring for the cry of pain the harsh grip forced out of him. He heard the distinct swish of a knife being unsheathed and he clenched his jaw, unsure what Martin planned for him.

The cold metal bit into his cheek, inches from the edge of his mouth, dragging up, parallel to the curve of his jaw, and Gale sucked in air through his nose, biting down hard on the gag, his hands twitching and twisting uselessly in their bindings behind his back. His wings strained at the chains holding them to his body and he knew there were tears in his eyes once again— he’d thought he’d run out— when the knife finally eased out of his skin, tracing along his oh-too-prominent cheekbone, before slicing the blindfold off. It fell away and Gale screwed his eyes shut against the sudden, blinding light. Martin just laughed, a humourless, harsh noise that set shivers down Gale’s spine.

“Well, lemme see those pretty blues,” Martin growled, inches from Gale’s face, his foul breath nearly making Gale gag. Martin’s hand came up to grab Gale’s face, thumb pressing on the fresh cut, and Gale cried out in pain, making Martin laugh again. He reluctantly opened his eyes, knowing that’s what the man wanted, his vision swimming dangerously before Martin’s leering face came into focus.

“I see your escapade didn’t entirely erode your manners,” he hissed. Gale kept his gaze locked on Martin. It was one of his rules, and Gale knew he was in enough trouble already without breaking any more. The older human stepped back, bringing the blade up in a flash, cutting through the rope holding the gag in place and slicing into Gale’s other cheek. This time, when Gale gasped, the gag fell free from his mouth, making an obscene noise when it landed, wet and heavy. Martin smirked, expression flashing angrily, and Gale knew that the other punishment he’d carried out had only wet his thirst for blood.

Gale dropped his chin, breaking eye contact, when Martin raised the knife to his lips, lapping at Gale’s blood on the blade.

“No, no, none of that now, pet,” he snarled, grabbing a handful of Gale’s hair and jerking his head back, making Gale look towards the ceiling, his back arching painfully, throat bared to Martin’s brutality and whims, “you know what I should do to you?” it was a rhetorical question, Gale swallowed thickly, feeling the prick of a blade along his throat, and he tried to look at Martin, though with his head pulled back as it was, that was hard. Biting the inside of his cheek, Gale tried to keep his breathing steady, feeling the slightest increase in pressure, instinct screaming at him to fight back. But he couldn’t. He’d be shot dead before he even landed a blow, if Martin didn’t slice his throat first.

And just like that, the knife was gone and Martin leaned forward, pressing his lips to Gale’s throat, to his jaw, to his lips, and Gale could taste his own blood on them.

“You belong to me.”

[sleepr-agent420]

Hii, I just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing because it's been a while since I've seen you on my dash 🥹 I hope life is treating you well but sending you love and good vibes anyway <3

yeah i have no good explanation for why i disappeared. BUT ALI UR SOOO SWEET FOR CHECKING IN ILY 😭😭😭😭

[sleepr-agent420]

why is there no hashtag mota posts on my timeline this is NOT cool goodbye 😭😭😭

[sleepr-agent420]

Give your fanfic writers a boost and share your favourite MOTA AU

i think @polifandom tagged me

start taking your chances by @meyerlansky. THIS FUCKING FIC GUYSSS i thrive for a good curtbuckbucky threesome and this one is SOOO GOOD

Its a Scream, Baby! by @feyd-meowtha the link isnt working but. clegan in a scream au. :D enough said go read that

the hand of a good man by @stereobone LINK IS STILL NOT WORKING ?? anyways i dont usually like daddy kink stuff but THIS ONE. NGHHRNJF sooo normal about this fic

all we got by @wayrad i give up on the link you people can use your fingers and search for them. THIS ONE is so beautiful i literally love everything karma writes and its BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN WITH CLEGAN HELLOOOO who wouldnt read that 🙄

our love, for eternity by @alienoresimagines i think? this ones short but its so cute and i love this royalty/bodyguard au

this must be the place by @blixabargelds AH! THIS! AHHH!!! i love when my boys are put in situations :D not to mention. slight gore and gross stuff haha

Skys wing au that doesnt have a name yet by @skyyguy wings on gale gale has wings ans hes sad and gets beat up a lot kinda and bucky helps him and stuff and fuck martin hes the bad guy

theres like a lot more but my stomach hurts so. goodbye

[sleepr-agent420]

sorry that i ended two consecutive messages with "lmao." i don't know why i did that. it looks really dumb doesn't it. i'll edit one to get rid of it. you can end my stupid pathetic life if you want

[sleepr-agent420]

Last Line (more like paragraphs haha)

tagged by @wayrad

its LONG so um

A tall man dressed in shadows, a drooling, snarling dog at his heels. Gale notices it’s not the only one. Scattered in the woods behind the man are dozens of dogs, their yellow eyes watching his every move, their white teeth glowing in the moonlight. The one at the man's feet seems to be the smallest.

The man stares at him a few more seconds, eerie seconds that feel like hours. Gale blinks and they’re gone. All of them. The man, the dogs, the wind, the creeping feeling in his stomach and chest. The light. Gale fumbles for his flashlight, banging it against his hand when it doesn’t flick on right away.

He sweeps the coned light across the lining of trees, taking a cautious step back. The sounds from the gathering filter in like a radio being turned up slowly.

Rowdy shouts and over dramatic screams and laughs. With a frown he takes one last look into the trees. “Creepy fucking-”

“Gale, you’ve been over here for too long, come back.”

“I saw something.”

Gale hears the snow crunch and squeak under Brady’s boots when he walks closer, bumping his shoulder against Gale’s with a puff of warm breath. Gale remains rooted beside him, their shoulders brushing against each other, creating a warmth that seeps through the fabric of Brady's heavy coat.

“Probably an animal,” Brady sniffs. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Gale. They look into the woods together in silence. Gale’s flashlight flickers out.

“I want you to meet someone,” Brady finally says, turning to Gale to watch him knock the flashlight against his palm again. The button isn’t working anymore. Click. Click. Click. Gale sighs. He’s out of batteries. He knows because he remembers the last two falling out of their plastic box, and one landing on his foot. And then his dog stole the packaging.

“Gale.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Gale can’t tell if Brady believes him, he’s not even sure he believes himself. Is he fine? Besides having a broken flashlight and no batteries, and maybe the fact that he keeps seeing scary men with scarier dogs everywhere, he’s pretty good. He stuffs his stupid, useless flashlight back into his coat pocket.

“You don’t believe me.” It was more of a statement than a question, and Gale regretted speaking as soon as the words left his mouth. Gale avoids looking at Brady, his fingers running over the grooves in the handle of his flashlight inside his pocket. He sucks his lip under his teeth, biting down until he can feel pain. It’s so cold.

“No, I don’t,” he confirms. Gale appreciates that he doesn’t try to catch Gale’s eyes. “You talk about seeing things a lot. Things no one else ever sees. I think I would be a bad friend if I wasn’t concerned.”

Gale nods. His breath comes out in clouds. When he was a kid he used to pretend the vapor was cigarette smoke. A small roll of paper acted as his cig and he would walk around and blow air into his friends’ faces like he’d seen his dad do to his mother a million times before.

np tags: @skyyguy @wolveshine @trashbag-baby666 @whitetrashjj @irregularcollapse

[sleepr-agent420]

tagged by @skyyguy mwah

last song you listened to: every morning by sugar ray

silver or gold jewelry: SILVER

tattoos: none :(

piercings: lobes and seconds 😮

currently reading: red dragon by thomas harris

a hobby i wanna try: jewelry making lwk

coffee or tea: tea

fav video game: rdr2

star sign: cancer

biggest hear me out: 2016 honda accord in silver i KNOW its a car please

np tags: @wayrad @soliloquy-dawn @alienoresimagines @rangerelizabeth

[sleepr-agent420]

i think im gonna make a personal blog so i can yap

[sleepr-agent420]

only on this app when my friends post whoops

[sleepr-agent420]

beg for the vampire prompts perchance

Prompt beg: your muse begs my muse to turn them into a vampire. NGL I still misread this as you telling me to beg you to send me a prompt 😭😭😭

It had been a bad day. For both of them. They were both tired, hungry, cranky. John's hand ached and Gale's whole body screamed in pain. Nothing quite as loud as his head and his heart, so Gale ignored the physical ache. Instead, he pulled John's burnt hand into his lap and worked on gently unwrapping it.

"Buck, I'm fine," John tried to insist, but he didn't pull his hand away, letting the human continue to unwind the strip of cloth until the burnt and destroyed flesh was visible.

"Like hell," Gale snapped in reply, "you went into the sun, you're not fine," he continued. John couldn't tell who Gale was angry at, just then.

"Not the first time, won't be the last," John said, shrugging, his mix of accents catching on the words. Gale had once asked where the accent was from and John had simply stared, unsure how to answer. You live long enough, you move enough, you pick up accents from everyone you've ever loved, you make them your own. That's what John had done, before he learned to stop loving, before he learned to stop trying to live. He wasn't living, wasn't alive, would never be, so he stopped pretending, stopped preening, retreated from the vibrancy of life to the shadows. Until he met Gale. Gale had told him once that the shadows, the black and white, the dark didn't suit him. John knew he was right.

"It better be the last," Gale replied, stern and unyielding as always, "if I catch you darting out in the sun to protect me again, I'll kill you myself, sun be damned."

"Hey now," John started weakly, knowing he had no real ground to stand on. He shut his jaw with a click at the look Gale gave him, holding up his uninjured hand in surrender. He was lucky it was only the one hand that got fried, it could have been a lot worse.

"If…" Gale started, though his voice was barely more than a whisper, "if you turned me, we wouldn't have to—"

"No," John cut him off, voice harsher than he meant it to be, and Gale flinched at the threat of violence in his tone. John took a deep breath and tried again, "no, Buck, I won't turn you. You don't know what'chour asking for. I won't inflict this curse on anyone else," John's tone was softer now, but still held firm, and Gale looked down at John's hand, cradled in his own.

"Maybe I don't know all of it, but I know I'd be with you," Gale said, turning red as he caught wind of his own cheesy words, "and you'd never have to risk the sun to save me again, since I wouldn't go in the sun either," Gale rationalized, rubbing his thumb over the damaged skin, "and you wouldn't have to worry about hurting me by drinking, either," he continued, glancing up at John through his eyelashes. John groaned at the thought of being able to taste Gale's blood, to freely drink without fear of killing his lover. Gale had split his wrist and forced the cut to John's lips before and John had savoured every sip of blood, but the fear of draining too much and hurting the blond human had forced him to stop, had ensured it was a one-time thing.

"Gale, please," John whimpered, begging Gale to stop. He only had so much self-restraint.

"Bucky," Gale muttered, leaning and pressing a kiss to John's wrist, where the flesh was still intact and uninjured, "John, please?" it was a perverse echo of John's plea, "I want to be with you. Please, John, turn me. Make me yours. Make me so completely yours," Gale begged softly, breathe warm against ice cold flesh.

"No," John gasped out, his resolve wavering slightly, evident in his tone, "no-not yet," the moment the promise left his lips, John knew it was true. He would turn Gale. Just… Just not right then. Not now. Gale looked up at him from beneath his lashes again, lips parted in shock at the whispered promise. A smile replaced the shock after a moment and Gale sat up straighter, wrapping a hand around the back on John's neck and pulling him into a searing kiss.

"Okay. Okay, I can wait," Gale muttered against the vampire's lips, knocking their foreheads together, "but I'm not a patient man, John."

"I know. I know, doll, I know," John whispered the words into Gale's mouth as he caught him in a kiss, moaning into the warmth of the living mouth, "your birthday. I'll turn you on your birthday," John promised. It was four days away. It felt right. It would be Gale's last birthday, the last time he technically aged. A day for celebrating a new life. A day for celebrating a new death.

[sleepr-agent420]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹ill count for you thats 14

Prompt

You're a brat 😭😭💖💖💖💖 As requested, though you might have seen this bit already, wings au:

He cradled the man against his chest and nodded at Curt, who collected his backpack and slung it over his own shoulder, casting a dark look at the bloody rings, the open shackles, before falling into step before them.  “Name’s Gale…” the man in John’s arms croaked out, words slurred and almost incoherent. John smiled softly.  “Fitting name. I’m John and this other loud mouth is Curt,” John introduced, though he was sure Gale had heard their names already. Gale hummed, but the noise sounded broken and pained. John wanted to tell him to be quiet, just so he didn’t have to hear the cracking. He didn’t, though, and the noise faded out anyways. Curt kept step before them, making sure the way was clear. They made the trip quickly, wasting no time in getting to the trucks. John was relieved when the medical truck door swung open and one of the others hopped down to help lift the morph into the truck. “We got one other from here,” Rosie muttered in John’s ear, “a lot better shape, though, says his name’s Ken.”  “Good. Anyone else?”  “No. Not even Martin,” Rosie said the name softly but Gale must have been listening because he flinched, hard, at the name.  “Easy, Gale, it’s okay, he’s not here,” John immediately soothed. Rosie looked behind him and then at Gale, considering something. “Let’s get him in,” Curt cut in, looking behind them as the rest of the team started returning to the trucks. John and Rosie nodded and started maneuvering to get Gale in the truck, laying him out on one of the beds in the armored vehicle. 

[sleepr-agent420]

I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.

[sleepr-agent420]

✎ vampire inspired action prompts. feel free to reverse if necessary.

bloody: for your muse to find my muse covered in blood. 

feed: for my muse to offer up their neck/wrist for your muse to feed from. 

bloodlust: for my muse to attack your muse to drink from them. 

intimacy: in a heated moment, my muse bites your muse's neck. 

injured: your muse finds my muse injured after a vampire hunter finds them.

turned: my muse turns your muse into a vampire. 

sunlight: my muse accidentally steps into sunlight and your muse finds them. 

coffin: your muse and mine share a coffin together. 

reveal: your muse reveals to my muse that they are a vampire.  

caught: your muse catches my muse feeding from an animal or person.

realise: your muse realises my muse is a vampire.

beg: your muse begs my muse to turn them into a vampire.

hunted: my muse is a vampire and your muse is a vampire hunter who's after them.

entranced: my muse hypnotises your muse to forget they learned they are a vampire.

threaten: your muse threatens to stake / toss my muse into the sunlight.

bat: my muse gets stuck in their bat form and your muse has to babysit them (whether they know it's your muse or not.)

hurt: your vampire muse finds my human muse after they've been injured in some way and notices their blood.

dress up: your muse helps my muse get ready by doing their hair/makeup since they cannot see themselves in the mirror.

messy: your muse catches my muse cleaning up after a kill.

washing: your muse helps my muse wash the blood from their clothes after a messy kill.

confuse: my muse tells your muse their true age / details about the life they've lived purely to confuse them.

kiss: my muse's fangs accidentally cut your muse's lip while they're making out.

noticed: my muse notices your muse's fangs. 

prey: my muse is out hunting for blood and they come across your human muse.

[sleepr-agent420]

saw a gif of austin rolling his head back