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chrollohearttags · 5 months

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where the heart is • eren x black!fem reader

synopsis: the holidays had never been a great time for you or EJ but that quickly changes when you guys share your very first Christmas together.

content + themes: super sweet fluff, domestic au!,musician eren, him being so in love, mentions of alcohol, very light mentions of angst, lots of humor, all around cuteness ♡♡

word count: 1.3K

📝: just something super short and cute. Realizing I hadn’t written any Christmas fics yet but I might do more with all of my characters if y’all like them!

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christmas…the time of year filled with cheer, delight and all things bright. Trees topped with snow, front lawns illuminated in bright colors and inflatable decorations waving about in the cool winds. Not to mention, the overwhelming scents of peppermint, chocolate and apple cinnamon wafting through the air at every establishment. A true sign of the times..of course for others..it wasn’t always the best occasion. For some, it was a reminder of the loneliness that came with being away from family and loved ones. Spending the cold nights by themselves and watching others celebrate the harmonious holiday surrounded by warmth and happiness. For EJ, he happened to be the latter. Always holed up in a studio, chained to his desk as he worked right through Christmas Day without so much as a pause..it didn’t bother him much. He wasn’t exactly close to his family after leaving home years ago and his friends preferred to spend the evenings partying alongside strangers. Not something he had an interest in engaging in. Needless to say, he couldn’t wait for it all to be over. That was until the renowned rapper wound up meeting (y/n)…

“ ‘Rennieeeee! Come dance with me, baby!”

“Princess! Get down from there, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

the ever so lovely and vivacious pole dancer turned influencer who not only took the world by storm but captured his ice cold heart as well. In a couple years’ time, the two of you had gone from perfect strangers to absolute lovebirds, enjoying domestic bliss in the comfort of his spacious three story home as soon-to-be husband and wife. Being in a relationship meant learning about the other person, becoming accustomed to their habits and all of their lovely quirks and in between. That stood true for Eren as well..it wasn’t until the two of you were out on your usual Sunday stroll through the Downtown District of Miami that he’d learn that you were a huge fan of Christmas. Although the warm temperatures didn’t mirror the occasion, shops and streets alike were strewn about garland and ornaments. Snowmen, reindeers, the works..! It was all a little suffocating for the stoic producer but you? You were beaming as bright as Rudolph’s nose! He couldn’t believe it. Seeing those gorgeous brown eyes glowing with excitement at all the decorations and themed treats, it made his chest flutter. Seeing you happy brought him more joy than any cheesy flare and overhyped song ever could. Since childhood, you have adorned the holidays; baking and cooking with your grandma, going to church and of course, opening presents. You loved every aspect and couldn’t wait to celebrate with your own family someday. However, your future husband was a little concerned that you may have been going a bit too far in your celebratory efforts…

“C’monnnn, pleaseeee? You look so cuteee!” Alluding to the reindeer headband sitting atop his brown locks.

“Yes, (y/n). I will dance with you, baby. But would you please get down from that ladder before you fall?!”

the two of you had been living together for some time now and he had grown quite accustomed to your habits. Waking up to warm kisses as he cradled you, getting to spend all this time together and lately..watching you frolic about the living room with knee high socks, shorts and fluffy red sweater with gingerbread men knitted on the front. Your butterfly locs were laced with red bows and scents of sugar cookie body mist radiated from your skin. You had even managed to convince him to partake in the festivities by baking cookies and helping set up decorations. Something he would’ve never done on his own accord. But he’d listen to you recount your holidays growing up and knew that he’d have to help you recreate the magic. You guys would even make jokes about how you’d never experienced a ‘real’ Christmas because there was no snow in Florida. He was absolutely infatuated with you and how adorable you were. Eren had only retreated to the foyer for a moment to grab some more ornaments and such, only to find you dancing atop the ladder; twerking and whining to the music that played and even belting Mariah Carey to the top of your lungs in an off key. He was trying to feign his laughter and keep a watchful eye on you all the same. He knew you were trained to dance and twirl at these outrageous heights but the fact that he had just watched you down four glasses of spiked eggnog consecutively with no pause, had him a little concerned. Knocking them back and becoming quite lively.

“I’m fineee! Now can you hand me those angels, please? I want them up—“

but as you made your way down the rungs and to the floor with only a couple steps left, you’d come tumbling down in a drunken haze and right on top of your fiancé! Who could do nothing but laugh as you immediately ‘sobered’ up upon the sight of seeing him lying flat on his back, covered in glitter. “Oh my gosh! Baby, are you okay?! I’m so sorry—“ cupping those fingers decorated in sparkly red acrylic tips over your mouth as you examined him. Making certain that he was alright but honestly? He had never felt better and in fact..you were utterly confused as to why he was so hysterical. His cheeks were red and he was cradling his stomach as he cackled.

“Yeah. I’m fine, princess..never been better. I’m just really happy.” Which allowed you to breathe a sigh of relief. For the first time in a long time, Eren had felt joy like he had never experienced before. All those years of spending Christmas Eve throwing money on dancers, pretending to enjoy drowning his sorrows in liquor or even mashing away at keys to avoid taking a trip back home to confront his family, none of it seemed to matter at that moment. The realization had hit him that this was his future…he was going to get to spend every day, every year having these beautiful moments and exciting times next to the love of his life. Leaning up, he’d grab your face and place a kiss on top of your forehead. He’d take a moment to examine your gorgeous features and just take in your presence. “Aww! I’m so glad..but why? You just fell.” A little confused by his sudden confession. He found your almost innocuous nature to be the sweetest thing in the world.

“Because..I have you, don’t I? Knowing I get to do this for the rest of my life..I can’t help but to smile..” Out of all the jewels and handbags you had been gifted, this was by far the greatest. Quality time and unconditional love that was priceless beyond comprehension. Moments that couldn’t be bought with the largest of riches, and the two of you were forever grateful for it. “I love you, princess. I really do..” which unironically sent you into a fit of tears and he’d immediately try to console you. “What’s wrong?!” Nearly bursting into overwhelming hysterics. Attributing it to your drunken stupor. But soon, you’d drape your arms around his neck and fling yourself across him with a tight embrace. “I’m sorry—I just—love you too, baby! I love you so much!..you’ve made me so happy.” You honestly never thought you’d have another Christmas like this or truly feel this type of love again but he made it possible. It didn’t matter how far you guys traveled or where your busy lives took you..right here, home and in each other’s arms..

“..thank you for tonight. I’m having so much fun.”

was where his heart heart was!

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porcelainseashore · 14 days

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Into the Ether (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Elysium

Within the next 24 hours, you had been given a crash course into vampiric, or otherwise known as Kindred, unlife. Leon taught you how to rouse the blood, something you would need to do every night before you could rise from your dead slumber.

“Never go to bed hungry,” he warned. “You may not wake up for weeks.”

The next important thing was to use it for what he called the ‘Blush of Life’, so that you could pretend to look human. Without it, your skin was the color of ash, you were icy cold to touch and had no heartbeat. You remembered the shock on your face when you peered in the mirror at your grayish body and listless eyes. Resting his hand on your shoulder, he murmured, “You’re still beautiful to me.” You shrugged it off without a response.

Mending wounds required rousing the blood and so did using certain powers within ‘Disciplines’, but you hadn’t fully crossed that bridge yet. Apparently by focusing and channeling it through your blood, you would eventually be able to call upon the innate gifts endowed by your clan.

Some already occurred passively for you. Like when Leon tested you by hurling a glass at your face spontaneously. You caught it with perfect timing, assuming it was just by pure luck. But he rewarded you by throwing another, which you seized again flawlessly; your reflexes working double time compared to normal. He said it was dubbed ‘Celerity’.

“What the fuck, Leon?” you seethed, before smashing the glasses to the ground.

He sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

As for the other abilities, they would come with time as you honed your craft. Leon appeared to be positively cheerful about the whole thing though. “You’re doing really well,” he praised. “I’m sure you’ll pick them up fairly quickly, especially the simpler ones.”

“Like the Jedi mind trick?” you scoffed, referring to the time he pulled that on you in the park.

Pursing his lips, he ignored your jibe and clarified cautiously, “Yes, though that would be under Presence.”

He stretched out his back on his armchair; it took a lot out of his patience to educate you. You weren’t the easiest student to handle, seeing as how you were the opposite of what he had been like with Ada, always challenging him head-on, as if you were trying to catch him out on any slips he made. Not to mention the endless snarky remarks you doled out.

“There’s one more — Auspex, but we don’t have to worry about all of this for now.”

You huffed, shaking your head at all the strange terminology you had to put up with this evening. There were many things that depended on rousing, but that also meant that sometimes your hunger would increase. It was like Russian Roulette, you never knew when you’d get hit. And then, the topic that you’d been dreading came up.

“Feeding,” he began. “There are many ways to do it, but keep it discreet.”

“I’m sure bashing the guy on the head the other night was warranted,” you argued, your tone still fraught with bitterness.

His brows knitted into a slight frown. “It was an emergency,” he muttered, before attempting to change the subject.

Heading towards the fridge in his open plan kitchen, he opened it and handed you what appeared to be a blood bag. “If you want, you could try one of these… but they’re not to everyone’s tastes.”

You squished the liquid contents inside the PVC bag between your hands, causing it to pool on one side and then the other. Playing with your food. You shuddered. The concept was still so alien to you.

“The medical ones are almost undrinkable. However, the unprocessed ones could work, at least for you. Doesn’t really do anything for the older ones among us,” he explained, though there was a momentary pause when he noticed your discomfort.

“Hey, you okay?” Reaching out for the bag, he placed it back on the fridge shelf after you surrendered the item to him silently. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now. But, uh, we can go slow.” He swallowed anxiously, hoping he hadn’t touched a raw nerve with the subject matter.

Gesturing towards the compartment, he mentioned, “I have a couple of these in here now. You’re free to have them at any time… or not.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” you mumbled, nodding despondently as you turned in the other direction. He was trying to be nice, but everything that had happened so far felt like a bad dream you wanted to escape from. You still couldn’t accept your new reality.

“Would you like to take a break?” he asked tentatively. “We don’t have to continue with this tonight, if you want.”

Clearing your throat, you waved away his concern, trying to put on a brave front. “No, it’s fine. You said it won’t be long before we’d be called in front of the Prince… and Sheriff?” The pitch of your voice rose at the end of your sentence, uncertain of whether you had used the right titles; they sounded foreign to you, as if you were living in medieval times.

He had already explained to you the rough details of what had happened when you’d been attacked. It was difficult to wrap your head around the implications behind it, but the demonic face of your assailant continued to haunt you. Did you now have to testify in a sort of court? Would they bring you in for further questioning? How exactly did the judicial process work in this world?

According to Leon, Kindred culture and politics were a completely different ball game from those in the mortal world. So, as much as you had a tendency to wing it in your previous life, you were way out of your league in this one.

“I’m guessing with the shit that went down, I should try to be prepared.” You gazed at Leon intently, trying to read from his expression how bad the situation was.

There was a slight shift in movement of his lips, but other than that, nothing. Damn that man and his poker face.

“Okay, I’ll teach you what I can.” He took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. This time, you didn’t pull away. “Just stop me at any point.”

He spent a substantial period enlightening you about The Traditions, the laws of the Camarilla — the sect you now belonged to, unfortunately not by choice. The first law and most crucial of them all, was to uphold the Masquerade and prevent anyone from knowing about the existence of your kind. As of now, Leon, being your creator, or sire, was responsible for your actions until you progressed on from being a fledgling to a neonate. Basically, a point in time where you wouldn’t be treated as a baby anymore.

You began to understand that this was the same crappy autocratic system you had despised as a human, rife with contradictions. Especially when Leon proceeded to tell you about what he jokingly coined ‘Tradition 0’.

“The thing is, I can go on about all these rules, but whatever you do, don’t get caught.” He adjusted himself uneasily on his high stool, supposedly half-regretting what he had just informed you. You had a rebellious streak, he always knew that, and perhaps even liked it; living vicariously through your actions. But he was putting you in a dangerous spot by encouraging it.

“You’re telling me this?” you coughed out a laugh.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he cautioned right after, but you rolled your eyes at his remark. Typical.

“I’m just saying some rules are bullshit—”

“Glad we can agree on something,” you taunted.

“Right, well,” he sighed, the dull pounding at the temples of his head starting to grow more persistent. “Be smart about it.”

With that, he presented a burner phone and pager, nearly identical to the ones he owned. You grimaced at the old-fashioned, brick devices in front of you. One of the things Leon had iterated was the Camarilla’s blanket tech ban. He said it was a safety precaution against the Second Inquisition, or ‘SI’ for short, who’d managed to infiltrate hordes of Kindred through their carelessness. Personally, he shared his doubts about that, surmising it was more about the older generation’s fear of technology, and using the ban as yet another form of control.

“Technically speaking, you’re not even allowed to have one of these.” A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he jiggled the phone, hoping you’d appreciate his word play. You didn’t, providing him with nothing more than a scowl.

Tough crowd, he shrugged before setting it down on the counter. “Anyway, I’m guessing your colleague’s gonna start worrying about your radio silence very soon.”

Fuck, Patrick. In the whirlwind of events, you’d forgotten about your instructions to him the other night.

“Pager’s usually for any comms from the Prince, among other more, uh, unconventional methods.” He recalled one of Hunnigan’s rats tailing him along the street with a spellbound look in its eyes, the dead drops, and the codes in graffiti at specific locations around the city, mimicking secret messages on ancient Venetian walls.

First things first though, you needed to allay any worries that resulted from your absence. You grabbed the phone, flipping it open. What was once a novel experience with Leon at the cafe now felt like a chore. You were unused to the stiff buttons, tiny screen and pixelated graphics as you punched in the numbers.

Pressing the age-old phone to your ear, the ringtone eventually came to halt, and you heard someone fumble on the other end of the line, along with a muffled shout over a wall of background noise, “Yeah, just a minute!”

“Patrick?” you addressed purposefully.

“Jesus! Where’ve you been? I tried calling you a million times; went straight to voicemail. Everyone’s been asking around for you! Did that guy—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I, um—” you glanced over at Leon as he eyed you inquisitively, wondering how you’d talk your way out of this one.

“Lost my phone; think I dropped it somewhere,” was the classic excuse you settled with.

Leon nodded approvingly.

“Explains the unknown number,” Patrick inferred. “Anyway, you coming in?”

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Uh, actually, I’m not feeling so hot.” That was at least a partial truth. “Gonna take this shift off too. Tell the rest I’m sorry.”

There was a low, static chuckle. “Must’ve been a wild night, huh?”

“Come on, seriously?” you guffawed, cursing workplace gossip with a passion. “It wasn’t—”

“Later, boss,” he drawled. “You deserve it.” He hung up before you had a chance to argue any further.

“Yeah, fuck you too, Patrick,” you grumbled, slamming the phone’s cover back onto itself as Leon failed to stifle a snicker.

He’d eavesdropped on the entire conversation. You flipped him off in response, which earned you an even louder chortle.

Both of you were interrupted by a series of beeps coming from Leon’s pager. He swiped it up in his right hand, taking a peek. His jaw tightened visibly, setting into a hard line as he regarded you with a rigid expression.

“The Prince beckons.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Huddling under the parasol that Leon held out to shield you from the pouring rain, you walked briskly beside him. Your heeled boots clacked along the city pavement, as you headed towards what appeared to be an inconspicuous underground shelter. Drawing closer, you saw the distinct mark of the Umbrella Corporation logo at its entrance.

Security cameras lined the walls and an access control pad lit up by the side. Scanning his magnetic token against the reader, he keyed in a numeric code which caused a set of doors to open, allowing you to enter an elevator shaft.

“Umbrella’s involved?” you gasped in incredulity. It never occurred to you that the multinational conglomerate would be so intrinsically tied to the underworld.

Leon shot you a dour look, his brows puckered as a clear sign of his discomfort. “Yeah, the Prince is its biggest investor.”

You clucked your tongue. No wonder they’d always seemed shady. “So, this Prince… has he got a name?”

“Mm hm, Wesker.”

Given the way he had spat it out, you didn’t have to be a genius to guess that Leon wasn’t very fond of the man in any respect. It wasn’t a surprise, since to you, all corporate overlords were the same — evil, money-grabbing assholes.

“You would do well to follow my lead when we meet him,” he counseled gravely, as you reached the bottom level of the place, and stepped out onto the platform that serviced one of Umbrella’s many private subways across the city.

You were the only ones in the empty station. It was eerily silent until you boarded the automated train, whereupon a robotic voice announced, “This train is bound for NEST. Do not exit until the final destination.”

Leon’s mood seemed to grow increasingly morose the further you journeyed towards Elysium, where the Prince had his quarters open as a neutral ground for the Camarilla vampires to be entertained, relax and attend to important discussions. It just so happened that Wesker considered himself to be the greatest scientist ever known to mankind and fancied his Elysium to be instated within Umbrella’s laboratory complex. Apparently, the location had been considered unorthodox, but no one dared to challenge the Prince, instead resorting to petty complaints behind his back.

As he gave you a brief rundown of the place, who you should avoid and how you should behave, the train braked, stopping at the facility’s station. Leon’s final words of warning echoed in your ears, “Remember, you answer to me, and only me. Not to my sire, not to anyone else. Got that?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have made some flippant remark and opposed his sudden display of authority over you, but you’d never seen him this unnerved before. He steeled himself, his countenance turning stoic and impenetrable; the only remnant of who he was shone through his sapphire eyes. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person and you weren’t sure what to make of it. Instead, you chose to hold your tongue and observe the situation. Nodding quickly, you stuck close to him as he requested while entering the sterile, clinical setting of Wesker’s inner sanctum.

As you walked across an extended bridge towards the East Area, you noticed cliques of what you assumed were other vampires hanging around the pathways and the circular main shaft. Sipping on scarlet liquid in wine glasses, they whispered to each other, sneering as they gave you the side-eye.

Your ears pricked up as you tried to zero in on their hushed conversations. All at once, you heard a cacophony of voices surrounding you.

“She won’t last a week.”

“I’ll give her three days at most.”

“I heard she tasted delicious.”

“No wonder Leon couldn’t restrain himself.”

The voices were overwhelming, coming from all directions, and at times sounding right up close to your ear. You felt woozy and nearly stumbled, if not for Leon wrapping his arm around to catch you. He threw you a look of concern, but said nothing as he led you away from the crowd.

“Easy there, wouldn’t want to accidentally fall off the ledge now, would we?”

You ignored the feminine voice, allowing her silvery laughter to wash over you as you resolved to focus on the task ahead. Harden yourself, you breathed, imagining a void abyss into which your emotions could be emptied. Leon had mentioned they would try to faze you, and you knew now, more than ever, that in order to make it out of here in one piece, you’d need to place your trust in the man who had upended your very life.

From one door to the next, the way this complex was built seemed to mimic that of a spacecraft. The final set of doors swooshed open as its panels glided along the tracks. You set foot into a neatly manicured greenhouse, its lower temperature and misty atmosphere contributing to the lushness of the plants it housed.

There was a tall, athletically built man in a full black formal ensemble, topped with a smart, matching coat, standing with his back to you on an elevated section of the room that served as a podium. His sandy, almost platinum blonde hair was gelled back neatly, and his hands, donned with fitted black leather gloves, were interlocked behind him in a military stance. He appeared to be fixated on something through a glass window below him.

At his side stood a svelte lady with a tousled, brunette bob, dressed mostly in camouflage garb except for a striking cobalt blue tank top. She wielded a broad, heavy-duty steel machete, its surface catching the light and casting a menacing glint. A Doberman Pinscher sat obediently by her side, vigilantly surveying its surroundings.

It was only when you passed through the pathway connecting the entrance to the podium that you realized others were lurking around the shrubbery. Their eyes gleamed in a variety of otherworldly colors as they looked on with aroused interest at the spectacle before them. The vibe was tense, but you couldn't quite place your finger on the exact cause.

As Leon reached the edge of the stairs leading up to where Wesker was standing, he placed his hand diagonally across his chest, bowing in reverence. “My Prince,” he greeted, casting a stern glance at you to indicate that you should follow.

You dipped your head in an awkward semi-bow, feeling completely out of place amid the formality of such a situation. He wrinkled his nose at your halfhearted attempt but left it at that, deciding it would work more in your favor not to make an obvious fuss over it. It was only then that the formidable man turned around to acknowledge the pair of you. His height, accentuated by the elevated platform, made him appear even more imposing as he towered over you. Although he sported a pair of pitch black sunglasses, you could still see the red glow of his eyes like burning embers behind them.

“Leon Kennedy and his newly Embraced childe.” He grinned wolfishly, though you didn’t understand what was so funny. “I realize your initiation to unlife was under… rather dire circumstances. My sincerest apologies.”

The tone of his voice seemed to suggest that he was mocking you, rather than being genuinely sympathetic to your plight. Your temper was beginning to flare up again, but when you peered over at Leon, you saw the strained look in his eyes and the tautness of his neck, almost as if he was pleading for Wesker to show some form of mercy. His vulnerability struck at your core, and you felt a sense of pity for him to be reduced to such a docile position. Biting your tongue, you quelled the simmering anger that was threatening to boil over.

“Such fire in her eyes,” Wesker tutted, smirking at Leon knowingly, though your sire remained expressionless. Holding out his arms, he welcomed you with them, “Let me have a closer look at you.”

For the first time you had entered Elysium, a bone chilling fear ran through your entire body, though it was soon replaced by the warmth and weight of Leon’s hand on your back, gently coaxing and ushering you towards Wesker with a reassuring gaze. You knew he was supporting you through this, despite harboring the same trepidation and dread within himself.

Once you were inches away from Wesker, he reached out, tucking his fingers under your chin to tilt your face from side to side under the harsh beams of light hanging overhead from the ceiling. “Hmm, not bad.” He licked his lips suggestively. “Tell me, Leon, did she taste as good as Sherry?”

Sherry? Who was—

“I am certain that Sherry is more suited to your palette, Prince.” His evasiveness carried a wisp of sadness.

A respectable Prince never needed to rely on any of his Disciplines to incite fear and control over others in Court. Wesker, as a Ventrue, was more than skilled at Dominate, and could have chosen to use it indiscriminately. But what good is a Prince who relies on the powers of the blood to achieve his desires? A weak pushover. An idiot who should’ve been overthrown yesterday.

Leon knew that Wesker reveled in prodding at his vulnerable spots with an invisible stick just to put him in his place. In turn, he was expected to perform this little monkey dance each time around the Prince for his acceptance. He just prayed that you would continue to be sensible; you were trying your best so far to temper your emotions and he was proud of you.

“Very well.” Wesker released your face, before signaling to someone at the back of the room. “Bring the rat in,” he summoned.

A scrawny man clad in a torn and bloodied hoodie was dragged by his chains towards the center of the room. His face had been mutilated and bizarre, occult symbols were burnt into his skin. Kicked to the ground, he sniveled woefully, scrambling to clasp his hands together as he begged, “P-please, I-I don’t know anything else, I swear!”

“Silence!” his captor roared.

Turning back to you, Wesker gestured towards the prisoner. “This abomination was part of the group that attacked your kind. They conducted what we call a Mass Embrace,” he lectured.

“If your sire taught you well, you would know which of the Traditions were broken?” The lilt at the end of his sentence informed you that this was a test, as he peered at you expectantly.

You caught a glimpse of recognition in Leon’s eyes, as he offered a subtle smile in encouragement.

“Two of them,” you answered, crossing your fingers that you had memorized the text correctly. “Breaching the Masquerade and unsanctioned siring of another Kindred.”

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. “Indeed,” Wesker commended.

For some reason, he then decided to recite the Third Tradition in its entirety, as if hinting at something to you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder. If thou createst another without thine Elder's leave, both thou and thy progeny shalt be slain.”

Before you could respond, the woman with the machete stepped forward. “I am ready to fulfill my duty, Prince.”

“Oh, Jill.” He gave her a fond side smile. “So eager for blood.”

There was a slight pause before he nodded. “Final Death. See to it then, my trusted Sheriff.”

In an instant, she leapt across the wide distance separating the Prince from the captive, and hacked off the screaming man’s head with one clean sweep. You flinched, shielding your eyes from the gruesome display as the other vampires murmured to each other animatedly.

This was meant as a lesson. Wherever you went, you would be observed and judged, and if necessary, put down like a dog just as that vampire had been.

As the corpse was carried away, the rest of the audience took their cue to leave the vicinity, boredom setting onto their faces once again as they sauntered out. You were about to head down the stairs, when Wesker grabbed your wrist, motioning for Leon to join him as well. “Wait a moment, little one,” he cooed.

When the room had emptied out save for the three of you and Jill in the background, Wesker spoke up, directing his question to your sire, “Since you were at the scene, any guesses as to who might be responsible?”

“Well, based on the particulars of the Embrace, and their love for creating shovelheads, the obvious choice would be the Sabbat. The clues seem to point there at least,” Leon deduced logically. “The Anarchs would be fools to pull off something so bold… and stupid.”

“The Sabbat, those insolent rats,” Wesker hissed. A hint of rage tainted his voice, as he balled his gloved hand into a tight fist, causing the leather to pile and squeak. “Do you know how much trouble this incident has caused me?”

“The Raccoon City newspapers and broadcasting network have been going off their rockers about this,” Jill piped up, making her way over with her Doberman in tow. “The fire covered up any real evidence, but the Raccoon Police Department suspects foul play. They’re calling for witnesses.”

“Leon, I have come to value your experience, especially with such delicate matters,” Wesker remarked. “I want you to investigate this for me. We can’t have any more of these imbeciles popping up where they shouldn’t be. Next thing you know, the SI comes knocking at our door.”

He glanced over at you again as a calculating smile spread across his face. “Take the fledgling with you. Let this be a way to prove herself as an asset to our domain.”

“As you wish, my Prince,” Leon obliged, though you could tell that he was dismayed by the outcome.

“Jill will brief you about the case after you’ve had your refreshments,” he continued. “Otherwise, our meeting here is concluded.”

At this, he released his grip on your wrist, the imprint of his hand still visible around it. Leon took the opportunity to loop his arm protectively around your waist, pulling you snugly against him as he escorted you toward the exit. You hated to admit it, but after the overwhelming events of today, you were thankful for the comfort he provided you.

However, after settling into a private booth in the lounge on the lower level of the East Area, Wesker’s words came back to haunt you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder.”

The tenet ran through your mind over and over again, until it finally dawned on you that your Embrace was by no accident. Leon had planned to turn you all along. You would have been beheaded by Jill if he hadn’t acquired Wesker’s permission in advance.

Your lips quivered as you stopped drinking the ruddy fluid from the glass that had been offered to you on the way in. It clinked as you placed it down on the crystal countertop before facing the man in question.

“You’re a goddamn liar, you know that?” you reproached, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With just one look at you, he knew that you had discovered his dirty little secret. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. I was going to give you the choice,” he asserted, shuffling closer in desperation as he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand.

“Like hell you were!” you jeered, pushing him back by the shoulders.

“I’m telling you the truth!” he exclaimed, unwilling to let you go as his eyes darted in panic, and his expression crumpled into despair. “Please, you have to believe me.”

Suddenly, the curtains drew open as a sultry, contralto voice rang out, “There you are!”

You jolted towards the source, finding yourself face-to-face with a glamorous lady in a rouge thigh-high slit dress. Her raven black hair was styled into a sleek, angular bob cut which was tucked behind her ears. A foxy smirk played across her bold red lips.

“Oh, Leon, why haven’t you introduced us? I’ve heard so much about you.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

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hanjisick · 1 year

Note

Hey how do you feel about writing yandere stray kids with fem stylist darling, like for Chan it’s romantic but for the rest of the kids it’s platonic, kind of like a little yandere family where neither the ‘parent’ or the ‘kids’ want their darling to leave them.

STRAY KIDS ‘FAMILY’ HEADCANONS.

a/n. okay, bare with me. i love this concept so much and had so many ideas for it— and i also had no clue how to organize it all. i hope this works!

warnings. violence. kidnapping. yandere themes.

word count. 2.1k

stray kids was a popular boy group that you didn’t know very well

you were chosen as the main stylist for the boys.

each of them were very kind boys, but specifically, bang chan stuck out to you.

and you had no idea what you would be getting into.

it began with how kind he was towards you and the backstage team

he would show off his charming smile and thank everyone any chance he got

even onstage during concerts, he would take a moment to thank the staff

then you began to realize how attractive he was.

you couldn’t help but stare as he would come backstage in a rush, sweaty from performing, tearing his shirt off, with the other boys following close behind

hesitating, you would hand him the next outfit for him

he’d flash you a smile and a quick ‘thanks’, running a hand through his damp hair as he changed

you didn’t know if you were just being hopeful at first, but you began to realize that he formed an attraction to you as well

you would be tugging on the cloth of his shirt, smoothing it out, fixing every wrinkle and misplaced accessory on his body

and chan would stare at you unapologetically, even if you met his gaze

there was obvious tension between the two of you

one day, he lingered for longer after an event to chat with you, ask you for tips on what colors would work best on him, what to wear in his weekly livestreams, and more

the rest of the boys lingered around him, quietly— which was quite unusual for them, there was rarely a time where they weren’t yelling

“i know this is technically against the rules, but would you be willing to take a visit to our dorm room and go through my closet with me? i really need fashion help. id be willing to pay.”

“it’s okay, i’d love to do it for free.”

you weren’t as oblivious as you pretended to be.

you knew he didn’t just want help with clothes and you could think of a billion other ways that he could easily figure out what to wear

but the biggest giveaway was the desire in his eyes, looking at you in ways that would never be considered a professional relationship

“do you want my number? i could text you the address, just don’t leak it, please.”

“you have my word.”

that night, you drove to their dorm, knocking on the door to be greeted by chan in his natural habitat— a hoodie and sweatpants, messy hair, no makeup, and a shy smile on his face.

“sorry for the mess, me and seungmin were trying to clean before you got here.”

you stepped into the dorm, finding exactly what you’d expect from eight boys living together. a complete mess.

but what you didn’t expect was for changbin to immediately guard the door after locking it.

“you know, me and the boys were looking for someone else to help take care of them.”

you fell right into their trap. and there was no escape from this sick, twisted family roleplay that they forced you to be apart of.

BANG CHAN.

he would never allow you to leave the house under any circumstances.

he would be the one to go to your apartment and grab your absolutely necessary things

he was also extremely possessive

you are only allowed to refer to him as your husband or darling, anything else will get a member of your actual family killed.

he’s absolutely obsessed with playing the role of a wonderful husband

it’s almost sickening how well he pretends, as if he actually loved his “wife” and his “kids”

of course, nobody could love someone if they’re keeping them captive, though.

pet names came naturally to him. he was always referring to you as his sweetheart, his honey, and most importantly, his wife.

your daily tasks involve waking up the kids and helping with breakfast, then sitting together to eat as a family

while he is gone, he expects for you to clean the house, do the laundry— typical housewife things

of course he would help you with these tasks normally, though, as a good husband should do, once he is home

when he gets home with the boys, however, he expects a kiss on the lips, and to be asked how his day went

dinner must be started, and chan never fails to comment on how good it smells.

it’s almost like every day is a repeat, the same script over and over.

and any time that you go out of line, chan will simply ignore you, and eventually you learned to just play along

at night, you must lay beside chan, wondering how you somehow used to be attracted to the monster as he held you tightly in his arms from behind.

LEE MINHO.

minho, labeled as the oldest child, was cold and eerily quiet at first

he didn’t talk to you, instead choosing to hang out with one of his ‘brothers’

once he was sure that you wouldn’t escape, he would begin to show little signs of acknowledgment towards you

things like a nod or a wave when he walked in the door or thanking you for cooking him food

soon he would ask you questions about yourself like asking about where you grew up, or how you became a stylist

soon, while he didn’t exactly follow you around obnoxiously the way that jisung would, you would always find him nearby, keeping a watch on you

“can i help you cook dinner?” he eventually asked, avoiding eye contact

when you agreed, he would perk up, immediately washing his hands and helping to get the ingredients

that became you and minhos thing. every time you would cook for the boys, which was at least twice a day, often three, he would join you

“getting along well with mom, i see?” chan would ask him with a grin.

“i love mom. she’s wonderful.”

“i knew you would eventually warm up to her.”

SEO CHANGBIN.

changbin was the first one that you learned to despise

he was deemed as the guard for you, since he was the strongest, and therefore was always the one to catch you first when you tried to leave multiple times

“where do you think you’re going?” he would growl, his expression full of what you thought was hatred

if he was so annoyed by you, why would he keep you in the first place?

although chan claimed him to be your “son”, he easily manhandled you, picking you up and dragging you back into the house despite your thrashing, and throwing you down as if you were the child.

but as your escape attempts became less and less frequent, you began to see a different side of changbin

one that was softer, kinder, less scary to be around

he would help you around the house with chores, such as doing the dishes or making the beds

“i wanted to make you smile”, he would say, causing your heart to skip a beat

he would grow on you quickly once his outer shell broke

HWANG HYUNJIN.

“why do you want to leave, mommy?”

most of the boys called you mom, but hyunjin was insistent on calling you mommy.

it made your stomach churn in an uncomfortable, frightening feeling

“i promise i’ll be good. i’ll make sure my room is clean and i’ll brush my teeth every night. just don’t try to leave again.”

you would grit your teeth and watch him beg, as if they weren’t holding you hostage, as if chan hadn’t done the sickest things to ensure that you would stay.

you didn’t know what kind of issues hyunjin and the rest had, but you didn’t want to be a part of them.

most of the time, hyunjin acted like a fragile child, like he would start to cry at any moment

he always wanted your attention, more than the other boys

“can you hold me, mommy? and sing me to sleep?”

you wanted to say no, but you couldn’t, or else he would tell chan.

“of course. come here.”

you would shakily comb your hands through his long hair, rocking him back and forth until he fell asleep on top of you.

HAN JISUNG.

clingy cuddle bug number one

jisung was always at your side if he wasn’t being swept away by minho to play

“where were you? why were you gone for so long?” he would ask on your first night trapped in the house

he played the role a little too well, as if you had genuinely left without any reason for his entire life

but now you were back and he wasn’t going to leave you alone

“do you want to draw with me?”

“i have to make the beds.”

“can i help you make the beds?”

“you’re gonna mess them up, jisung.”

he would stare at you silently for a moment.

“call me sungie,” he would whisper, his entire expression changing in an instant

your breath would hitch as he continued, “or else i’m gonna tell daddy. and he’s going to hurt grandma. really badly, too.”

with tears brimming your eyes, you would restart. “sungie, you’re gonna mess the beds up. let mama do it.”

a switch in his brain seemed to flip, going right back into character. “why do you always have to do boring things? why can’t we play?”

“why don’t you play with lixie until i’m done?”

LEE FELIX.

felix was always more gentle than the others even from the beginning

when he found you crying, he would be the first person to wipe your tears, hushing you, telling you that it would all be okay

he seemed like the closest to sane one in the house

you felt like you could trust him, that he actually had a heart

maybe, just maybe, he was being forced to play along too, maybe he was being held captive

you could tell by the pained look in his eyes when he saw you being scolded by chan for trying to run away

which is why you came to him with your plan.

“felix,” you pulled him into the laundry room, “i think i’m gonna run away.”

“you’re going to what?”

“you need to help me. we can act like we’re together so that bang chan doesn’t get suspicious.”

his eyes were wide, crazed, as he shoved you against the wall, harnessing strength that you didn’t think could come out of the soft boy.

a knife was pulled against your throat, the harsh metal digging into your skin.

“you are never going to run away from daddy and your children, mom. you should forget about it,” his deep voice boomed throughout the house

KIM SEUNGMIN.

seungmin really didn’t seem all that attached to you like the other boys

but he was quite the troublemaker

chan would call you to scold him for teasing the others or to break up arguments

he was definitely exhausting to deal with

“minnie! don’t call hyunjin that!” or “what did i say about throwing food?”

what was the most agitating is that both seungmin and chan seemed to enjoy it, as if they had decided that the family needed a troublemaker.

he would stick his tongue out at you, egging you on, thinking that you wouldn’t do anything just because you didn’t want to be his real mom.

“go to your room!” you would yell, as chan smiled behind you, “or i’ll have to drag you in there!”

“fine!” he would groan out in defeat, slamming his door behind him.

“good job, my sweetheart,” chan would praise into your ear, “you’re finally acting like the mother that you are. but hyunjin is crying because of seungmin’s words now, would you be a darling and go comfort him?”

YANG JEONGIN.

as the youngest of the boys, everyone seemed to deem him as the most important thing in the world

you could admit that he was definitely adorable

but the way that the others treated him was unbearably obnoxious

“can you cut up jeongin’s food?” chan would ask you sweetly, his arms wrapping around your waist in the kitchen

you grimaced, thankful that chan couldn’t see your face, “of course my love.”

cutting up food for a twenty-one year old was something that you never thought you’d have to do

but as long as nobody else died, you would do it.

“can i have apple juice?” “can i have the smallest fork?”

it was never-ending with the babying of the person that you couldn’t see as anything but a full grown man.

but at night, you would find him slithering in between you and your husband, his chest replacing chan’s against your back and hot breath against your ear

“you love me, right, mom? don’t you love baby jeongin?”

#skz #stray kids #yandere stray kids #skz yandere #han jisung #bang chan #yandere skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #skz fanfiction #skz fanfic #minho scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #seungmin x reader #skz x reader #kim seungmin #stray kids scenarios

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bas-writes · 3 months

Text

your blind date is waiting for you...

A suitor is awaiting for @honey-deku who as their dream date wanted to go to an amusement park. I hope you will spend lovely time together!

gender neutral reader | ~900 words | suggestive themes and mentions of alcohol

You like the touch of her hand.

At first glance, it's just a hand—a petite hand of an elegant woman, soft and smooth, adorned with rings and well-manicured, long nails. You expected her hold to be as faint and feminine, but she proved you wrong with an exceptionally firm and strong squeeze; one you would rather associate with a man used to physical labor.

A pleasant surprise adding to the overall pleasant evening.

Utahime grabbed your hand when you were leaving the roller coaster station and hasn't let go ever since. It's the first time she dared to cross the border of physical contact, a few hours into the date, but it came so naturally you haven't even pointed it out. It would be a shame to spook her right as she's warmed up around you. And you're sure your hand would feel too cold and lonely without hers.

It's the middle of workweek, off-season, so the amusement park is not crowded, a perfect atmosphere for a casual date, not too intimate but not too public either. You're even spared of long queues for attractions—so far, the longest you had to wait for bubble tea to soothe your tortured with adrenaline throats—so the night has been passing nicely and smoothly.

The queue for another ride is no exception. You would say it's even less busy: the attraction is not the most besieged one, quite off the main trail, seeming older and, as much as you're informed, slower than the crazy rides you've tried before. Utahime has stubbornly pulled you here, visibly pleased with herself as you secure your position for the waiting. The distance between you two is gradually shrinking, her hand leaves yours just to lock a new position in the nook of your elbow. Your shoulders are touching, you can feel the soft curve of her breast way too close for just a casual date. If you focused enough, maybe you would pinpoint the scent of her perfumes in the air.

Scent you would very gladly investigate even more profoundly, you realize with a slight shudder wandering down your spine.

"Do you want to grab some sushi after?" As if reading your mind, Utahime sneaks into your personal space with close to no shame. You have a feeling she would climb your lap if only you were sitting.

"We're done with rides?" The amusement park was your idea, but she agreed for it with such enthusiasm that you were sure you hit the jackpot. And now she's done after barely two thirds of what this park could offer?

"I might be hungry..." She tilts her head to the side, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck. "And thirsty. Just a little."

Elegant fingernails graze the inner side of your arm, a few sneaky inches up and down, back into the secured place, before it could grow cold, "I know a good place, two or three train stops away from here. Wednesday night, all drinks from the front menu are twenty percent off."

She doesn't look like a heavy drinker, nor like a party animal. All this time you were under an impression that she's more of the coffee shop and bookstore kind of a girl. Have you judged her wrong? Have you walked into a precisely set seduction trap? Are you reading a little bit too much into a simple proposal of turning the date into a dinner one?

Maybe you just wish there was something behind her words?

"You have quite a thought ride written all over your face." Utahime doesn't laugh but there's a lot of amusement in her voice. "Did I spook you? My bad. I know I can be quite...direct. Just tell me, if I'm too much."

"Not too much," you promise and pull her hand into you with more confidence. "I quite like it about you."

Chaos swallows you two after the ride stopped and people exchanged seats. You're right by the railing now, bright light fills her face with crazy colors and deep shadows. The scar she tries to cover with a thick layer of powder stands out more prominently now; your gaze lingers over it more by accident than anything but those few seconds are enough for her confidence to falter.

The hold on your arm grows weaker, ready to drop at any moment.

"I like that about you too." You pull her close again, ready to fight against the consequences of your little faux pas, but her good mood returns as fast as it started withdrawing. "And I like some good drinks too, if we're already at our preferences."

Utahime doesn't even think twice, you can tell from the not-so-subtle jolt of her shoulders and bright smile in her eyes, "Twenty percent off is a great deal, right?"

"Great, yes. Easy to lose control."

The next line is so obvious, with the way she's been clinging to you, with her doe eyes seeking yours right from the very beginning of the date, with the amount of adrenaline rushing in your veins after you've screamed your lungs out on rides and carousels.

But your cheeks still get a little warmer when she, hesitating just for a few seconds, finally drops it on the table, "My place is nearby, just on the other side of the street. If you—"

"I would." You dare to move your arm and wrap it loosely around her waist—and you're immediately accepted. "Would love to stay over, if we lose control."

#utahime x reader #utahime x y/n #utahime x you #utahime imagine #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #bas writes #jjk #iori utahime #blind dates #gender neutral reader

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she-is-juniper · 2 years

Text

The Devil I Know — Austin Butler x Reader

Pairing: Austin Butler x f!Reader

Type: Oneshot (i could be swayed to write more for this AU though...)

Summary: Between the two of you, Austin has always been in control. But when he denies your pleasure for his own gratification after two weeks away, you decide to make matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 7K...a monstrosity...

Rating: E (Explicit) ***18+ only. Minors DNI or you will be blocked.

Warnings: there's a lot.... Oral sex (male- and female- receiving), biting, bondage, dominant/submissive relationship, degradation, spanking, deepthroating, edging, orgasm denial, "sir" kink, power play, consensual sexual manipulation, forced orgasm (all of this is consensual)

A/N: At long last, it is here ♡ This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Austin Butler or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized. Please note that the representations of body types in my moodboard are not intended to exclude anybody of any race, ethnicity, or body shape.

And please, for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance!

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

It all started when you and Austin Butler locked eyes from across the red carpet. And now you lived together in a beautiful house with a cute dog and a big backyard.

Ever since you’d started dating Austin Butler, your life had turned into a dream. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had. He treated you so well, communicated with you, wasn’t shy to share his emotions. He celebrated with you, cried with you, enjoyed the little things in life with you. He whisked you away with him on travel, both for his job and for holiday: London, New York City, Bali, Rome. He kissed you in front of paparazzi without any inhibitions. He treated you as if you were a personal gift from God sent directly to him, and you loved it.

But sometimes, dating Austin was a nightmare. Speaking facetiously, of course. But you’d never before been treated the way Austin treats you in bed. You’d never met someone with an appetite quite like his, sexually speaking. You’d never been with anyone before who was so singlemindedly determined to inflict such deliriously agonizing pleasure upon you. Austin was a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and you were at the focus.

Tonight, you and Austin were planning on going to a party hosted by one of the designers who worked with him on his latest project. The party was sure to be attended by all of the heavy-hitter celebrities in Austin’s circle. It was a themed party—The Devil I Know as the theme. According to one of your friends who’s planning on attending the party with her actor boyfriend, too, the name of the game for the party’s theme was red and black. You could just see it…a swath of partygoers clad in luxury leather and velvet, fur coats (faux, of course—this is Los Angeles, after all), fishnets, sleek tailored suits, chains, chokers. Think, Lucifer in luxury brands, your friend had elaborated.

And you had the perfect outfit. A tight-fitting number that looked more like glorified lingerie than a dress. It was the color of expensive Cabernet, with a V neckline accentuated with straps. The dress’s hemline was made of lush satin and delicate lace, under which you wore micro fishnet thigh highs and a garter belt. And of course, the outfit was elevated by decadent gold jewelry, your black Prada bag, and your trusty Louboutins. It was utterly indecent, even considering the party’s racy theme. You might as well have been wearing actual devil's horns as the cherry on top.

But you don’t intend to leave for the party at all tonight. In fact, you had other intentions entirely for this night. Plans involving making Austin pay for what he’d done to you last night.

This summer, Austin had been traveling much more than usual, doing interview after interview to promote his new movie. That’s not why you want to punish him. In fact, you didn’t mind that he’d been gone more often than not lately; you’d been keeping busy with a life of your own, too.

Last night, Austin flew back home after a two-week span away, mostly in New York. He’d wanted you to come with him on the trip, but you had work to do and had to decline. Austin was such a baby about that—he called you most every night, nearly begging you to catch the next flight to JFK and join him. You’d just laughed and told him you’d see him soon back in LA. Of course, he’d understood—but he made it clear to you every night (in the form of provocative texts and lewd photos) how badly he wanted you, needed you.

So when he finally returned home last night, he had two weeks worth of pent-up sexual energy. And he absolutely bombarded you…

“Please,” you’d begged him, your voice absolutely shot with agony. Your hands strained against the handcuffs on either end of the headboard he had locked you in.

Austin loomed over you like a stormcloud of dark desire. He had one of your legs pinned down with the weight of his own body, your other leg draped over his shoulder. And a vibrator, pulsing agonizingly slowly, pressed to your sex—enough to elicit a fine sheen of sweat on your forehead and a rivulet of moisture from your pussy, but not enough to actually get you off.

He smirked maniacally up at you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You plead his name, trying to grind yourself against the vibrator. He brought his lips to your inner thigh and bit it gently with his perfect teeth while he turned up the setting, and you moaned in relief, finally able to lose yourself in the pleasure, which starts to grow and grow in rapid swells—

Until he shut the vibrator off entirely. You wanted to scream in frustration, wanted to seize the toy in your own hands, but you couldn’t. And he had the audacity to grin maniacally at you.

“Now you know how I’ve had to feel for the past two weeks without you,” he purred and did the whole thing all over again.

As you let last night’s memory flood your mind again, a furious warmth rushed to your core. He hadn’t let you get off that night, not once. He hadn’t given you a single thing you’d wanted. He hadn’t even given you himself—he’d made you watch while he got himself off to the idea of you being denied. And once he was done with you, you were far too exhausted physically and mentally to do anything about your neglected arousal.

He would pay. He may have been the one in control last night, but not tonight.

You smirked to yourself at the thought and let your hips sway to the sound of the music playing through your AirPods as you finished washing up the last of the dishes. You were already dressed and ready to go, heels and all. It was nearly 6 pm; Austin was due home at any moment from a meeting with his agent. The plan was to leave the house by 7, get to the party by 7:45. Your clandestine agenda was to make sure that you never even left the house.

You suddenly felt a warm body press against your back and a pair of greedy hands slide over your waist. Those hands slid up your body, up your neck, all the way to your AirPods, and gently pulled them out so you could hear his reproving voice.

“You can’t possibly mean to go out like this.”

“What?” you asked him, your red-lipped pout betrayed by the playful glint of your smokey eyes.

And your boyfriend’s eyes, filled with barely-restrained hunger, raked down your body. God, you loved when he looked at you like that. “You look… You look…”

“I look what?” you smirked. Austin seemed momentarily at a loss for words, and your smile only grew as you noticed the bobbing motion of his throat. You were well-aware of the sort of punishment from him this behavior would elicit. “This is the theme, isn’t it? The Devil I Know?”

He didn’t reply. You stepped back and placed your hands on your hips, taunting him. Challenging him. His eyes followed the movement.

“What happened to the dress your stylist picked out?” he asked. “The one you’d texted a picture of to me last week?”

Indeed you had a different outfit picked out last week, an elegant number by Armani, shipped straight from Italy. But you went this morning to shop for the alternative.

“This seemed more fun,” you said dismissively.

You had to admit, Austin looked pretty fucking debonair in his sleek suit, perfectly tailored and made of jet black satin. Your Armani dress was supposed to be his perfect match—black and black. But you hold firm, smoothing down the front of your new dress, which was just barely excusable for evening attire.

And which was apparently was driving Austin all types of mad.

Just as you’d planned.

“You look…dangerous,” Austin finally finished his thought. You turned away to pat your hands dry on the kitchen towel, but you couldn’t hide your grin.

“Dangerous? Does that mean you don’t like it?” you simpered with concerned eyes. You already knew the answer to that.

“I didn’t say that,” Austin muttered as a means of evading your question. But his eyes were quickly growing dark, like low-hanging clouds in the sky.

“I guess I’ll just have to go change, then,” you purred, slowly stepping around Austin toward the bedroom. He didn’t hesitate a second to grab you gently by the arm, pulling you back.

“Don’t change clothes,” Austin grumbled, and the rasp of his voice reeled you in like a fish on a line. You turned back to face him, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“So we’re going to the designers party after all, then?”

“I think we’re going to be a bit late.”

Whatever spell you’d cast on him was instantaneously broken. Austin pulled your hips toward him so your body was flush against his. You made a surprised sound, but your next breath was quickly stolen away by Austin’s fervent mouth against yours. His warm hand braced the back of your neck while the other snaked lower down your back, down toward the hem of your ridiculously short dress. A low growl vibrated across Austin’s chest as he touched the hidden garter belt. He gave your ass a squeeze, a motion that sent zings of warmth between your legs.

“Austin,” you gasped the moment he broke away. His pretty mouth was smeared with your lipstick. “I…”

But you couldn’t finish your thought. Austin’s fingers were inching down again, tracing a line across the bottom curve of your ass.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it,” he said. When you nodded, he chuckled lowly. “You devil. Such a naughty girl.”

“If I’m the devil, then I’m right on theme,” you smirked at him. You barely registered as he guided you across the kitchen.

“If you’re the devil, take me to hell with you.”

Your hip bumped against the side of the kitchen table. “You’d like it there,” you jested. “Nice place. Gets quite hot in the summertime, though.”

The jokes were over, though. In one swift motion, Austin spun your body around so you were facing away from him. The next thing you knew, he bent you over at the waist, and your chest was pressed against the dining room table, arms splayed out in front of you.

Oh.

“We really are gonna be late, aren’t we,” you giggled, tilting your head to the side to face him. Austin stepped back for a brief second, his breath catching in his throat. What a sight you must have been…your backside shining up at him over the edge of the table, your dress—already so damn short—riding up your hips, revealing the prize hidden beneath.

You arched your back, eager to show Austin all you had to offer—when Austin’s phone rang on the table.

“Fuck,” Austin grumbled, straightening up.

“Better get that,” you teased, letting your gaze fall conspicuously to the tent in his trousers.

Austin gave you a venomous glare as he answered his phone. It must be his agent again. He stalked into the kitchen, murmuring softly into the phone. He took a paper towel and wet it with water from the sink to wipe off the lipstick from his face, glancing back at you reproachfully a couple of times. You smiled to yourself, satisfied.

By the time the call was over, Austin stalked back into the dining room, you’d perched yourself on the table, your fishnetted legs crossed.

“We told Alexandra we’d be there at 7:45,” you reminded him, your voice sing-songy. “Reckon we should get going. Don’t you think?”

Austin didn’t answer your question. “I didn’t say you could get up,” he said.

“You didn’t say I had to stay there, either.” You met his angry scowl with a wicked smile. All your teasing was working. The storm brewing in Austin’s eyes was growing more and more turbulent.

“Y/N,” he warned. He wasn’t getting what he wanted, and you weren’t about to give it to him so easily.

“I can think of a dozen better positions, anyway,” you purred and beckoned for him to come close. He stayed back, but the second you uncrossed your legs and spread them wide, some of the steely resolve in his eyes seemed to dissolve. You took advantage of his moment of weakness and reached for his silk collar, already unbuttoned at the top two buttons. You pulled him to you, between your spread legs. He couldn’t resist.

“Let’s make this quick,” you continued, grasping his stubbled chin with your other hand. “We have a party to go to, after all.”

You brought his mouth to yours and kissed him, slowly and voluptuously, indulging yourself in the sweet taste of his lips. Your lips spoke one thing, but your intentions spoke another. If you played your cards just right, this ordeal wouldn’t be quick at all—it would be excruciatingly drawn out, which was precisely what you wanted. Reverse-psychology. It worked like a charm, every time.

Sure enough, just as Austin was beginning to lose himself in your kiss, he stiffened and pulled away. You barely had a chance to register what he was doing before he grabbed your hands, pulled you off the table, flipped you around, and bent you over once more.

“Oh,” you grunted as Austin pressed your cheek into the table, hard. The action was careful but rough, and you loved it.

“I’ll decide how I want to take you,” he snapped. The hand on your head moved to your hairline, smoothing it back and away from your face. His other hand pressed heavily into your upper back, keeping your torso firm into the table. You could feel his pelvis against your ass, and upon assessing how hard he was through his trousers again, you bit your lip in anticipation. This was Austin’s favorite position. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t yours, too. But you weren’t about to admit that.

Austin’s hands moved down the sides of your body. You felt him grind a little against your ass. You moved, too, appreciating the low “fuck” that came from his mouth as you arched your back toward him.

“Everyone’s going to ask where we are,” you said, still moving your hips.

“Don’t care.” Austin’s hands reached the hem of your skirt. “This is all you’re wearing underneath?” he asked as he pinched the thin straps of your garter belt. No underwear. You yelped as he let it snap back against your skin. Austin tsked. “Can scarcely believe you wanted to show up to a designer’s party like this.”

“I can wear what I want to wear, thank you very much,” you grumbled half-heartedly. Austin’s touch became feather-light as he traced a line down the backs of your thighs. You realized he was moving to kneel on the ground behind you.

God. You pressed your legs together, almost embarrassed by how wet you felt, how there was no underwear there to stop it from gliding down your inner thighs.

Austin saw you squeeze your legs together and gently guided them back apart. “That you can, love,” he murmured, his words deliberate, calculating. “You can wear whatever you’d like.”

“Then what—” You cut yourself off, swearing. Austin’s finger was circling a spot on your pussy, right at your entrance, where you knew the wetness has seeped. There was no hiding your arousal now, not with his face right there.

“Going out with you looking like this,” Austin continued, pressing his fingers against you more firmly now. “I wouldn’t be able to contain myself at that party. And you knew it.”

“You seem like you can hardly contain yourself now,” you mocked, a derisive edge to your tone. It seemed to fuel some furious energy within him. Austin growled again, pinching the insides of your thighs so hard you felt like your knees might buckle.

“You know I don’t like being provoked, darling,” he scolded you. His face was so close to your body now that you could feel his hot breath fanning out over your thighs. “Better curb that attitude of yours. Or else I’m going to have to fuck it out of you.”

Which was precisely what you desired. You wanted him, and you wanted it rough. But you played the game anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, finally showing your submissive side. The non-bratty, submissive side. But Austin pinched you again, and you couldn’t contain the breathy moan that spilled from your lips.

“What was that?” he chided.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s more like it.” He spanked you then, lightly, but the action was so unexpected that you yelped and arched your back. “Tell me, darling, who’s in charge here?”

You tried to answer, but with the way he was suddenly caressing your thighs so lightly was bringing goosebumps all over your skin, and you couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N,” Austin murmured. He smacked your ass again, harder this time. Your body flushed with heat and desire. “Answer me. Who’s in charge? You or me?”

“You, sir,” you gasped. “You’re in charge.”

And he was—at least outwardly. But he was a fool for not realizing quite the extent to which you had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Good girl.”

You played the game the way he wanted, and you arched your back, eager for your reward. And Austin, who started kissing his way up the insides of your legs, seemed just as eager to give it to you.

This was how it worked with Austin. You rile him up a bit, then you back down and submit just enough to give him what he wants, and then you rile him up again. Rinse and repeat. You wondered when, if ever, he’d catch onto the pattern.

But you’d worry about that later. Right now, Austin’s mouth was preoccupying your thoughts.

Gradually, he kissed his way up, up, up. When he finally reached his destination—the summit between your thighs—he planted an open-mouthed kiss to the place you were the most wet. You moaned at the onslaught of heat from his mouth. His stubble—he hadn’t shaved for a few days—scraped against the sensitive skin of your thighs and your ass. You couldn’t get enough. Nor could Austin, it seemed. He seemed impatient to taste you.

“So goddamn wet.”

He spanked you again, and you knew there was going to be an angry red spot on your ass for the next few hours. He flipped the hem of your dress up onto your back so it was out of the way and slapped his hand to your ass once more. You shifted, uncomfortably turned on, desperate to feel the heat of Austin’s mouth again.

“Remind me our safeword again,” Austin asked you.

You wanted to answer right away, but the tickle of a single finger circling right at your entrance replaced your words with a high-pitched moan.

"Y/N, safeword," he prompted again.

“‘Stop,’” you recited in a gasp.

As instructed, Austin withdrew his finger.

“No, don’t stop,” you corrected yourself. Austin chuckled. You and he decided right at the beginning of your relationship that the best safe word was the only one that truly only had one meaning: stop. God, you couldn’t imagine stopping now. The establishment of the safe word gave you both a sense of reassurance, however, that seemed only to perpetuate the passion between you two. But stopping was the last thing you wanted right now.

“Just checking to see if you remembered.”

Austin buried his face between your legs from behind.

A moan bubbled out from your throat, followed by another, and another. You felt your knees threaten to give out again, but Austin’s arms, wrapped securely around your thighs, steadied you.

He felt unreal. The sounds his mouth was making against your pussy were obscene as he lapped at you, a feeling of silky smoothness and warmth coupled perfectly with the roughness of his beard. The thought of him burying his whole face in your ass, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his dick jumping to life in his trousers… fuck, it was going to be the death of you.

And just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get any better, a sensation like no other sent jolts of electric desire across your body—his tongue slipping inside you.

“Austin, fuck, I—fuck,” you panted. Your hands raked across the wooden table, desperate for some kind of purchase, for something to grab onto. They found nothing. You were slowly but surely beginning your spiral toward an orgasm, a realization that nearly alarmed you—he’d only just started with you.

And you knew he didn’t like it when you came too quickly.

Yet, he did not let up. He gently pulled your legs apart even further, and as his tongue slipped in and out of you, his deft fingers zeroed in on your clit.

“Don’t come until I say so,” Austin instructed.

Fuuuuuck.

He worked you into a gasping, moaning, dripping mess. You don’t know when his mouth had moved from your pussy, but you saw stars as you felt his tongue against your asshole—holy fucking shit, you could come just from the sensation. As minutes passed, you were gradually losing your grip on reality. Your climax was approaching sure and strong now. While your mind fought against it, knowing what would happen if you let go too soon, a veil of primal lust overshadowed every rational thought.

You had only one choice, and that was to sit here and take it and chase your high.

And Austin knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to you; he was setting you up for failure. He wanted you to come too early. He wanted to punish you.

“Baby, please, I—I can’t, I’m—Austin,” you cried in a dazed moan. His other hand had slipped inside your pussy while his mouth was preoccupied. This wasn’t fair. He really wasn’t letting up. He pulled his head away just enough to bite the skin of your upper thighs, gently, but enough that you could feel his teeth. His fingers moved faster and faster on your clit, giving you absolutely no way to come down. There was nothing to do to stop the approaching orgasm on the horizon.

“Hold off for me, baby,” he encouraged. “You can do it. Don’t give in, not yet.”

Edging. He wanted to edge you, again. But you wouldn’t have any control this time. And you didn’t want him to stop.

“Austin, I can’t,” you keened. Reaching around behind you, your hands finally found something to hold onto—Austin’s head, keeping him in place against your ass. You cried out and buried your fingers in his hair, pressed his face into you.

And that was it. You were past the point of no return.

Austin’s fingers slowed as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. You felt your desire swell over you like a tsunami, and your whole body convulsed in response. Your moans peaked in volume and pitch as you thrashed against his touch. It was so good, so fucking good, that you couldn’t think about what was happening, what you’d just done.

You fell limp against the kitchen table. It was over.

You lied there gasping for breath. Time had stopped and restarted itself. Droplets of moisture—a mixture of Austin’s saliva and your own pleasure—rolled down your thighs.

Austin stood up and said nothing, but your mind was still too hazy to turn and face him. You heard him make a small, exasperated sound. But he was silent.

You took a shaky breath. “That wasn’t…” You gulped, your throat dry. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Stand up,” Austin said bluntly. You took your time to heave yourself up from the table and turned to face him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was a sight to behold…his hair mussed up, his cheeks flushed, his mouth glistening with your wetness. Despite his facade of disappointment, you could tell by the way his pupils were blown wide that he was absolutely ravenous about what just happened.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said in a quivering voice. As if to discount your words, an aftershock came across you, and you jolted and sighed. Austin watched the brief shudder run through your body. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You know the rule about coming,” he chastised.

“I—”

“Only good girls get to come,” he continued. You saw his hands, which rested on his hips, twitch toward the center of his hips. “And only when I say so. I didn’t say you could come yet, Y/N.”

Normally, you’d make some kind of bratty comment that you were well aware of his stupid rule, but the implication of his words made you shudder again.

“I didn’t mean to, baby,” you said quickly as you squeezed your thighs together. “I just couldn’t…I couldn’t resist.”

“Couldn’t resist?” You didn’t miss the way Austin took a small step toward you. “Well. If you couldn’t resist coming, love, that was your decision. But you know the rule. You leave me no choice.”

“I know,” you said, hanging your head, although your body buzzed like a live wire. Austin lifted your chin to his with a single finger. His eyes were bright beneath his heavy lids.

“Such a filthy girl. My dirty little slut. Down on your knees,” he demanded. “Now.”

You resisted the urge to drop to your knees right away; instead, you took your time, playing the role of reluctance. Once you settled into a kneel, you blinked up at Austin with a doe-like gaze.

An angel wearing the devil’s clothes. At least, that’s what you were going for.

It worked. Austin’s face softened a bit, and he rubbed your cheek with his thumb. That same thumb came to your mouth, dragging across your bottom lip. Your lipstick was probably everywhere, but that’s exactly how he liked it.

“I love you,” Austin mouthed. A check-in, you knew. The slightest of role-breaking. But it was enough. You just bit your lip and smiled coyly, whispering it back response.

And then his hands were fumbling with the belt on his pants. You waited patiently as he unbuttoned and unzipped, and as he guided his trousers off his hips, you helped. Austin’s briefs looked uncomfortably tight. With those, he let you take the reigns with pulling them off.

His throbbing erection emerged and sprung out, hard as a metal rod. God, after all this time, and you’ll still never get over his cock and the fact that it was yours. You squeezed your thighs at the familiar sight.

His phone rang—again. “Don’t answer it,” you told Austin.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Austin murmured as he pumped himself a bit. “You look too fuckin’ gorgeous down there.”

“You want me, baby?” you asked him.

“Always,” he answered. You licked your lips in anticipation. “C’mere.” He beckoned you, and you crawled closer to his legs, eyes glued on his manhood. Desperate to help him out, you brought your hands up to his, but he swatted them away. “Hands by your sides.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “There’s my good girl.”

You smiled. It really was that easy.

Austin kept jerking himself gently off with one hand and brought his other to cares your cheek. You sat up straighter and parted your lips. “Open up wider, baby. Show me your tongue.” You did, and Austin cursed again. You inched your head closer to his cock, breathing through your mouth so he could feel how warm you were.

“Doing such a good job listening to me,” he said. “Almost makes me feel bad about having to punish you.”

“Please punish me, sir,” you pleaded. “I deserve it.”

“You want this dick, darling? You want me?” When you nodded, he said, “Need to hear you say it, Y/N.”

“Yes, please, I want you. So bad.”

“Good.” He started moving his hips toward you, and secured his hand to the back of your head. He tilted the tip of his cock toward your open mouth. “I’ll give it to you, baby.”

You kept your eyes locked on Austin’s as he slowly, slowly slid his member between your lips.

A guttural sound came from the back of his throat. As you took more and more of him, inch by inch, his eyelids fluttered and his throat bobbed.

“Shit,” he groaned. The hand around the back of your head stiffened into a fist around your hair. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m—fuck.”

You closed your eyes, tasting him. Salty, but clean. Undeniably Austin. You loved this. You loved getting punished. Maybe he’d catch on one day that this was why you acted out so often. It wasn’t much of a punishment when you loved it this much.

Austin was so deep now that he filled your whole mouth. You wrapped your lips around his shaft, and sucked, gently, just a little. But at the sight of your puckered red lips and hollowed cheeks, Austin let his head fall back with a loud moan.

The hand on your head guided you, but it wasn’t like you really needed it. You knew exactly what to do. You pulled away slowly, letting the bottom of the head drag along your tongue, and then pushed it right back into your mouth. Again, and again, and again. With each thrust, you let him hit the very edge of your throat, right at the soft palette. And it was driving Austin insane.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby,” he groaned. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. God, you feel so fucking good.”

He was likely too distracted now to notice if you move your hands. Grasping the base of his dick, you pumped him with your hand while your head moved. Austin’s hand fell from the back of your head, and by the dazed look on his face, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. Literally.

Just when you were getting into a groove, you pulled all the way off of him with an obscene sound, a string of saliva and precum stuck on your tongue. He was so swollen he was almost purple, and the lipstick marks all over his shaft was a delightful sight. You gave your mouth a rest and worked him with your hands, spreading the slickness all over his shaft before jerking him off. Responsive as always, Austin let a stream of groans and praises fall from his parted lips.

You wondered if he could tell how much you love this, this punishment. Your enthusiasm couldn’t be mistaken, surely. He looked like he needed some love elsewhere, so you dipped your head and kissed his balls. He yelped a little in surprise as you sucked them ever so gently, and then licked a long stripe up from the base of his shaft to the very tip of his head.

There, you tasted the fresh droplets of precum that had accumulated there from your ministrations. Austin breathed in a shaky gasp as you flicked your tongue along the most sensitive place on the underside of his head.

“Jesus Christ,” he swore.

His phone buzzed with a series of texts.

You gave him a wry look, wrapping your lips around just the tip, and to your surprise, he seemed not to have even noticed his phone. Which was good. There was no way you were stopping things now. You knew you were skilled at this, and you knew you were working him to his limit, which is why you didn’t have much time. Pretty soon, he’d be pushing you off of him to prevent himself from coming too soon, to buy himself enough time to fuck you properly.

What he didn’t know is that you wanted his cum in your mouth, all over your lips, dripping down your throat.

And you had the perfect trick up your sleeve to get what you wanted.

Sure enough, as soon as you started bobbing on his cock again, Austin squeezed your shoulder. “Slow down, darling,” he said, his jaw clenched.

Not a chance. You smirked around his cock and didn’t slow down one bit. He seemed to lose the words to ask you again to slow down. You moved with new vigor and brought your hand to the base of his shaft, moving it along with your mouth.

“Y/N,” Austin moaned—a panicked warning. His hand squeezed your shoulder again. You knew he knew the safe word. But he wasn’t using it.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked as you bobbed on him, just the way he liked it, just the way you knew would make him start falling apart. It was working. Austin’s back arched and his breaths grew shallow and strained. Between your lips, you could feel him swell.

“Y/N, please,” he gasped, and you raised an eyebrow at the pretty word from his lips. Please. His hand, squeezing your shoulder, pushed you away gently, but the movement was weak. Indecisive. He didn’t want to push you away.

It was time you pulled that perfect trick out from your sleeve. Relaxing your throat just the way you’d practiced, you brought your hands to Austin’s ass and pulled his hips toward you—all the way. His cock hit the soft, warm place at the back of your throat. You breathed in and out with steady, calm breaths through your nose.

“I…I can’t…Y/N, you—fuuuuuuck!”

You took all of him, every inch. His cock slid down the back of your throat.

Through your watery eyes, you looked up at Austin and saw the disoriented astonishment on his face. And oh, how you wished you could capture the disoriented astonishment on his face in your memory forever. He looked as if he’d never experienced anything like this, ever.

Nor had you. It was a novel feeling to take him so deeply like this. Your throat burned slightly as his girth stretched it out, but you’d been expecting it. You’d preparing for this. No amount of preparation could have done any justice to the primal emotions it unlocked to be pleasuring him so intimately. You liked the way it felt, Austin filling your throat like this, spit dribbling down your chin—not to mention his reaction.

Relaxing your throat as much as possible, your lips hit the base of Austin’s shaft, the tip of your nose poking his pelvis. Austin gasped out, a choked sound. His eyes darted about, but then you hummed against his cock, and any deliberation he’d had was gone. His hips jolted at the vibration from your throat, and you gagged a bit around him, but you didn’t care. You could handle it. A stream of curses came from his mouth as your throat vibrated while he was still deep inside you.

You swallowed around him, the muscles of your throat contracting. You knew he could feel everything.

“Y/N,” he nearly sobbed your name out. His voice was so weak, almost broken. You’d broken him. “I… Please don’t stop… I’m gonna…I’m…”

You didn’t stop.

Austin’s whole body went rigid and his hips stuttered. You held him steady as his cock pulsed, and with one loud moan, Austin couldn’t stop himself. He went over the edge. You pulled out a bit and braced yourself. His knees nearly giving out, Austin arched into you and released the tension in his body. You felt his whole cock surge and pulse as he came down your throat in thick, hot spurts.

You swallowed everything.

As you slowly slid yourself off his cock, gasping for breath, spit covering your mouth, Austin nearly lost his balance. He leaned against the edge of the table, still panting, still unable to say anything. You wiped your mouth in satisfaction.

Seconds passed. Neither of you said a word until you caught your breath and Austin caught his grip on reality. He met your eyes, absolutely bewildered.

“What?” you finally asked, and you couldn’t keep the smug undertone from your voice.

“I—” he stammered, but he couldn’t finish. He looked away. He was suddenly like a completely different person, embarrassed and shy and blushing and still completely stupefied. His cheeks were still flushed with desire. He hadn’t bothered to pull his trousers back up, and frankly, he was still rock hard.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you cooed as you got to your feet. You made a show of pulling up your thong, smoothing down your skirt, fixing your jewelry.

“You… When did you learn to do that?” he whispered, dumbfounded, unable to meet your gaze again.

You smirked. “What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

“With… With your throat,” he clarified, almost angrily.

You tittered. “Oh, that? Just a little something I’ve been practicing.” You cocked your head devilishly. “Didn’t you like it, baby?”

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t… I mean, I… I did, it’s—it’s just, I didn’t mean to… That wasn’t…”

“…Supposed to happen?” you completed his sentence, your voice taunting, jesting. The same words you’d told him when you’d come too early. “Aw, honey. It’s okay.”

Austin finally looked at you again. He was finally regaining his focus, and suddenly, a glimmer of frustrated realization shone in his eyes.

It was as if you could watch the exact moment he realized what had happened. He realized that you’d been planning it to go your way all along.

“Y/N,” he said, but whatever threat he’d tried to muster up in his voice was empty.

Before you could reply, your own phone buzzed on the kitchen island. You didn’t hesitate to retrieve it.

“Hello?” you answered, sauntering back over to Austin. “Oh, Alexandra! Hi!”

His eyes trailed on you as you talked on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry, we’re just running a bit behind. We haven’t left yet.”

You let your eyes fall to Austin’s lap. He blushed a deeper shade of red, realizing, and pulled up his boxer briefs and trousers.

“You think it’ll be okay if we show up late?...Oh, great. That’s wonderful. See you soon. Okay, bye.”

You hung up. Austin said nothing.

“Alright, then,” you said cheerily. “Alexandra says almost everyone is showing up late, so as long as we’re there by 9, we’re golden.” Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure how the night would pan out. Your original plan was to make Austin stay so late with you that the party wouldn’t even be an option. But if you could still show up fashionably late, so be it.

Austin stared. You patted his thigh endearingly, almost demeaningly. “Let’s get to it. We’re already late.”

You turned to stroll away toward the bedroom, but Austin grabbed your arm. He glowered at you but didn’t say anything.

“Are you going to let me go anytime soon?” you said lightly after a long moment. “I need to go clean up, unless you want me showing up looking like I just deepthroated your cock.”

He jolted in surprise at your words. A few seconds later, he let you go. “You’re going to pay for this later,” he said, but it was more of a stammer than a warning.

You smiled through your eyelashes, rubbing at your bottom lip absentmindedly. And then you turned away from Austin, letting your hips sway as you ambled in the direction of the bedroom. Little did he know that “paying for it later” was part of your plan all along, too.

————————————————

Author’s Note: ...So are y'all sweating as much as I am, or...?

Thank you so much for reading! This is probably the filthiest thing I've ever written, and I'm not sorry about it.

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

For fanfic, blurb, or headcanon requests about Elvis, Austin Butler, or Stranger Things, please let me know via my ask box!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis movie #elvis presley #fanfiction #works by juniper

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musings-of-a-rose · 11 months

Text

Build Me Up - Chapter 4 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader (inclusive - stock photos suck)

Word Count: 3200+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: The last chapter! I never intended this fic to be super long, but I loved their meet cute(?) idea and had to write it. As always, I take asks for any of the fics I write for, even if it’s just questions or a little drabble! Thank you for waiting so LONG inbetween that first and second chapter. Y’all the real MVP’s!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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<<;Chapter 3<<

Several months later, Will takes you out for drinks after a nice dinner, your usual Friday night date. It was a great chance for you both to catch up on what the other was doing during the week, as sometimes life got so busy you’d barely get a chance to speak. This last week, Will had been out of town at a few different bases, making his speech about joining the Armed Forces, so your conversations take longer than normal. Will places a drink order with the bartender, leaning against the bar on his elbow as he watches you talk about the kids archery camp you’ve been instructing, eyes lighting up as you talk about them, when his eyes glance over your shoulder and his smile drops, his eyes instantly becoming hard. You stop talking and follow his gaze to a really pretty women, tall, lean, and blonde.

His ex fiance.

She’s with a friend but splits from them, pointing to the bar directly where Will was standing. You try to drag him away but it’s like he’s frozen, unable or unsure of what to do.

“Oh. Hey, Will.”

He stares at her for a few moments longer than socially acceptable. “Ashley.”

She glances at you and back at Will, making the connection that you’re together. She sticks a hand out to you.

“Hi, you must be the new girlfriend. I’m Ashley. Will and I used to…well, we were engaged.” She says the last word like it holds some giant meaning, like she was hoping it would cause a fight between you both. You take her hand, gripping it firmly and shake.

“Oh so you’re the ex fiance? Amber?”

Her eyes narrow at you slightly. “Ashley.”

“Right, right. I knew it was something that starts with A.”

She glares at you for a second before rallying, schooling a look of indifference on her face. “So, how long have you two been dating?” She looks at Will but he seems incapable of answering her so you take over.

“About a year.”

She raises her eyebrows. “A year? You made it a whole year?” She sounds like she’s shocked, as if she wasn’t with him long enough to be engaged.

“Yeah. Will’s great.”

She smiles at you, but the look in her eyes, like she knows some terrible secret and is going to save you from something, makes you want to punch her even more. She leans in closer to you, but still speaks loud enough for Will to just hear it over the sounds of the bar.

“He can be…a lot. Did he tell you to say that?”

“What?”

She leans in closer. “Blink twice if you’re in trouble.”

The color on Will’s face drains and you square your shoulders, sitting up straighter as you turn the full force of your gaze on her.

“That’s really not funny. And honestly? I’m glad you couldn't handle him because that made him available for me. Will is the best thing to ever happen to me-”

Ashley waves her hand, cutting you off. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait until he finally shows you who he is in bed. A real freak. If you need help, just blink and I’ll call someone.”

You stand abruptly, your barstool wobbling dangerously on one leg as you do. “You know, I have to thank you.”

She blinks at you. “Oh? So you do need help?”

“Thank you for showing me exactly what a terrible person you are. It’s easy to see who the problem is. Now, unkindly, get the fuck out of our way.” You take Will’s hand and pull him up, Ashley staring at you open mouthed as you push past her, Will’s hand squeezing yours as you make your way through the crowd and out of the packed bar, heading straight for his truck. Will fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks it, hopping in and you do the same. He starts it but doesn’t move, letting the ac cool it down.

“What a fucking bitch,” You say, half to yourself and half to Will.

He’s quiet a moment. “I never thought…I didn’t know she was still in town.”

“Well fuck her. She is so rude. I wanted to fight her but I didn’t want to ruin date night.”

Will chuckles lightly. “Now that I would’ve loved to have seen.”

“Oh? I can go in there and drag her ass out here,” You point over your shoulder with your thumb, pretending to go for the doorhandle. Will smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he shakes his head.

“Hey…where are you?” You reach out and cup his cheek. Will leans into it for a moment, sighing deeply.

“She just…brought up a lot of memories. Ones that I didn’t want to think about again.”

“You’re a good man, Will. I know I say it all the time. I’m hoping it’ll sink in that Ironhead of yours one day.”

He smiles a little brighter this time, still not reaching his eyes. “I know.”

You watch him for a few moments before scooting close to him, pressing your lips to his and letting him lead. He responds after a second or two, kissing you back and pushing his tongue into your mouth. Moaning into him, you toss your leg over his lap, your hands sliding around the back of his neck, gripping and tugging on his hair. You tug a little harder, his head moving back and he smirks at you, that glint in his eye when he knows you’re about to sparkling in the dim light. Sucking at a spot on his neck, Will whimpers, fingers digging into your hips as you let go, a hickey quickly rising in palace of your lips. Will fumbles with his belt and you slap his hands away, quickly undoing his belt and jeans, pulling him out as he gasps at your touch, kissing him once more as you take him in hand and pump him a few times. Moving your panties aside you sit up and slide yourself down onto him slowly, which apparently doesn’t work for Will as he grips your hips and pulls you down quickly while thrusting up into you, chuckling darkly at your cry.

“Fuck, Will! You feel so good!”

He guides you as you fuck him, pulling you down harder as you chant his name, random words and sounds tumbling from your lips as he fucks you. One hand is gripping his arm and the other slaps against the window and it’s then you see her. Ashley, standing a car length or two away, staring directly at you and Will having sex. As Will leans forward to suck hard on your neck, you smirk at Ashley, giving her a small wave and flipping her off as Will hits that spot inside of you and you cum, screaming his name a little louder than you probably needed to. Will comes a moment later, grunting and panting your name as he spurts inside of you, biting you hard on the shoulder. Chests heaving, Will looks up at you, eyes still dark as he takes in your face, hair all askew and sweaty.

“I fucking love you, Robin.”

A smile spreads across your face. “I fucking love you, Will Miller.”

“Move in with me?”

“Was the sex that good?”

He chuckles. “It’s always that good with you.”

“Why don’t you ask me that when you’re not balls deep inside of me.”

He grips your chin lightly with his thumb and pointer finger and you meet his gaze.

“I mean it, Robin. I’ve been dying to ask you for a few months. I just…”

“You never have to be afraid to ask me anything, Will.”

He nods. “I know. So…will you?”

“Yes. But if you feel different in the morning, it’s ok. Just tell me.”

“Deal.”

—----

He does not feel different in the morning, and he proves this to you by burying his face between your legs until you beg him to stop, overstimulated and nearly crying from so much bliss.

“742,” Will says matter of factly.

“742? Really?”

He smiles proudly. “I love to make my girl cum.”

“I still can’t believe you track that.”

“Wanna know how many times we’ve had sex?”

You throw a pillow at him and he throws it back, expertly hitting you in the head.

–

Both of you take a couple weeks to pack your things and move them over slowly, since work was still super busy. Once you’re moved in, you settle into a comfortable routine, making Will a quick breakfast and coffee before he heads into work or off to the airport to make another recruitment speech. You can see his job wears on him, but when you ask him about it, he shrugs and says “It’s what I can do.” Once you pressed him more and he said a lot of places don’t want to hire veterans that have seen active combat. They don’t outwardly say it, but he’s been turned down for jobs that he interviewed great at, making it all the way through the process until they saw his forms, suddenly not so interested. He’d once asked a recruiter why and they mumbled something about “not worth the risk”.

He takes up archery with you as his coach and he takes to it well, which doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, considering his history. Will also pays very close attention to detail, making it easier for him to hone in on the target and how best to get there. He still loves it when you come and stand behind him, fixing an elbow here or a wrist there. You finally got him to snap out of concentration Will when you came up behind him and pretended to adjust something on his posture before he drew and ground your hips into his ass. Will burst out laughing, not used to being the one grinded on and you both laughed about that for a long while.

You’ve been together a year and a half and finally, Will gets to meet your family. They’re having their annual “2nd of July” celebration, as most of the family will be inside on the fourth, none of the veterans big fans of all the firework noise. They’d had to cancel last year and so were extra excited for this year, especially since you were able to fly in with the now infamous Captain William Miller.

“Do I look ok?” Will asks, fidgeting with his collar in the hotel mirror.

“Let me see.”

He turns to face you, arms outstretched to his sides. “Do I need to change?”

“As much as I’d love to take this shirt off of you, you look fine, Will. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

“Easy for you to say. Everyone loves you.”

“They have to. They’re family.”

When you arrive, Will knocks on the door, wiping his palms on his jeans that you’d convinced him to wear over business pants. He’s visibly nervous and you can see him getting in his head. So you lean up to him, speaking quietly by his ear.

“If you relax, we can stop at the store on the way back to get that stuff for that thing you’ve been wanting to try in the bedroom.”

Will’s eyes snap to yours, darkening instantly. His eyebrows raise but before he can say anything, the door opens and your dad is there, hugging you and grasping Will’s outstretched hand, a smile on his face.

“Will! It’s so good to finally meet you! You want a burger or a dog?”

“Whatever you have more of, sir.”

“Sir! You hear him? I like him already.”

“Dad!”

He chuckles. “Alright, alright. No need to call me sir. I’m fairly certain you outrank me.”

Will shakes his head. “Negative. You are the father of the love of my life. You definitely outrank me for bringing her into this world.”

Your dad stops, looking between Will and you and seeing the look of utter devotion on both of your faces. “That’s very kind of you to say, Will. Now come on - let’s get you some food before these heathens eat it all.”

Will’s eyes widen when you step out into the backyard and he sees the amount of people gathered here. Kids running around with sparklers, throwing snaps at each other and laughing, some people swimming in the pool, and others talking, some loudly and some not, red, white, and blue colors everywhere.

“I thought you said it was quiet?” He doesn’t look at you but the corner of his mouth ticks up.

“It is. We don’t do fireworks so it’s quiet for 2nd of July.”

You make the rounds, introducing Will to everyone, his shoulders relaxing more with every new person that he meets. “You weren’t kidding - almost everyone here has served or is serving.”

“Yup. I told you the truth that day in Publix.”

Everyone loved Will, but no one more than your mom. She fawned over him, squeezing his arm, making sure he had enough to eat and drink, that he knew where all the exits were and that there were no pets, the best places to stand with your back against a wall and clear line of sight to the door. The backyard was set up so you could stand pretty much anywhere and achieve this, but she wanted any excuse to talk to him. When your dad came over and pulled Will towards the grill to “help him”, your mom came up to you and gushed about Will, how he was so respectful and kind and a really nice man.

True to your word, no fireworks were had that night. Instead, your parents had put up a giant inflatable screen and played a video of fireworks with no sound effects, just classical music over top. Will and you sit on the ground, Will leaning back on his hands and you between his legs as you watch.

“This is amazing, Robin. I gotta tell the guys about this. We should do something like this back home.”

You lean back into his lap further, turning slightly to the side to look at him. “That’s a great idea! Frankie and Vanessa have plenty of room in their yard for this sort of screen. They aren’t too expensive. And their daughters would love to watch Frozen on this thing.”

The fireworks end and you sigh, stretching slightly as you stand up, finally able to make a full stretch. You turn to Will to offer him your hand, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when you look at him, kneeling on one knee, a ring box sitting in his hand.

“Robin, I know I’m not an easy man. Hell, you met me in the middle of a PTSD episode in the middle of a Publix. But somehow, even though I didn’t know you, you were able to pull me out. You saved me that day, but more than that, you’ve saved me every day since then. I feel…normal around you. Or as normal as I can be. You make me feel safe..safe to be me, all of me. I never thought that was possible. I thought that I would have to live my life half a person. You never judge me for the things I’ve had to do, any of the nightmares or quirks, none of it. Other women would’ve walked away, but you take my hand and guide me through the fog. And I hope I give you even an ounce of the happiness you bring me and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that you’re happy and feel loved.” Will opens the little black box, exposing a beautifully crafted ring. “Will you marry-”

“YES!”

You launch yourself at him, cutting off his sentence to laughter and whoops all around, your lips crashing to his as everyone cheers. You take his face in both hands and pull back, tears falling not just from your eyes but his as well.

“I love you, Captain William Miller.”

“I love you so much, darlin’.”

On your flight home, you covertly join the mile high club, Will grinning from ear to ear watching you exit the bathroom and smoothe down your dress a few minutes after he’d left the same one.

—----

Everyone flies out to your parent’s house for the wedding, as they had practically begged you to have the wedding there. And Will enthusiastically agreed, as the yard was literally set up for veterans. Everyone was there, even Santi flew up from his job in Colombia and asked you to tell him who your single family members were with a wink.

The wedding was small but grand, flowers picked from your mom’s garden were woven into your braided updo, mathing the ones your mom had hand embroidered onto the outer layer of your dress, a matching embroidered handkerchief in Will’s coat pocket.

The reception went on long into the night, the kids all passed out on sleeping bags in the living room as they watched a movie. Will always had a hand on you at all times since you said “I do”, pressed to your lower back, lightly gripping your arm, or linking fingers with you and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

You’d both decided to skip the honeymoon and save that money towards a downpayment on a house of your own, a discussion of kids sometime in the next couple of years or so. “We can always go on some fancy trip later,” you say as you take another sip of the beer Will had brought you.

You did, however, take the week off anyway and spend it in bed, only leaving it to make food and use the bathroom, Will demanding that the only clothing you were allowed to wear was one of his shirts and nothing else. When you said “Yes, sir” he growled and chased you until he pushed you into the bed, both of you living out your now shared dark desires.

And in the morning, you woke before him, watching his sleeping face as the light hits it just right and you think about how lucky you were to have been in Publix that day and how much you love the man in front of you, even if he was snoring loudly.

—----

About a year or so later, Will and you are sitting on the couch cuddling, yelling out wrong answers to Wheel of Fortune, when his phone lights up. He leans forward and grabs it off the coffee table, letting you settle back into his side while he looks at the screen.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah. I just got a text from Santi.”

“If it’s about some girl, I don’t need to know.”

“No. He says he has a job for us.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby-blog @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena-library @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully

#will miller x reader #will miller x you #will miller x f!reader #will miller x female reader #will miller #william miller #willilam ironhead miller #will ironhead miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fan fic #triple frontier ff #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam character fanfic #charlie hunnam character fanfiction #charlie hunnam character ff #charlie hunnam characters

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lazyneonrabbitt · 7 months

Note

Could I possibly request a Gallzatto x Reader about the trio planning their girls first birthday?

The planning would be absolute chaos. Also I hate planning so I hope I did this justice!!

~~☆☆☆~~

The three of you sat around the coffee table, debating about the upcoming birthday of your twin daughters.

By now all you had agreed on was the dlower theme to match their names. One wanted a big party, the other something small, and the last really wanted to go to bed since it was 1AM already and you weren't a single step closer to completing this planner.

"Can we puhleeease just decide on the cake and call it a day? I need sleep, I have work tomorrow.." You whined at them and dropped your head onto your crossed arms.

"Seriously if you don't decide right now I'm calling Marcus and do it myself."

"Chocolate cake, obviously."

"Vanilla, for sure."

"Alright screw this. I'm off to bed." You grabbed your mug and brought it to the sink before going past the table again to kiss both boys goodnight and head off. "Goodnight you two."

A defeated sigh left Lip's lips. "I don't get why she's so moody about all of this." He looked over the list of things that still needed to be decided on with multiple scribbled notes at the sides.

"The girls' birthday is nice, but you're forgetting that day was a nightmare come true for their mom." Carmen's comment had Lip take back his complaint, he felt bad remembering how you'd wake up crying night after night in the first weeks after the babies were born.

"How about half chocolate half vanilla for the cake?" Lip had taken a new piece of paper and scribbled a wonky looking cake shape, splitinto two half circles with one end saying 'vanilla' and 'chocolate' on the other. He kept writing on each side, ending with the girls' names on either side and their favorite color decorations written down as well. He turned the paper and slid it over to Carmy to inspect.

"Yeah, looks good to me. We'll ask momma tomorrow." Carmy took your list and checked off the cake bit. They moved on to the next box: drinks. A small 'alcohol?' Next to it as a means to ask the boys later. "I know I can keep my hands off it now. I'm in a good place"

So they agree on a small 'yes' next to your question, count how many people gou plan to invite and write down the amount of drinks to order for the bigger and smaller guest amount options.

A little "run by mom" note next to it in a bright color.

"Do we get their flowers for decoration?"

"What snacks are we getting? And, buying or preparing them ourselves?"

The questions that come along with your written list each took a short while to answer now that they each finally set aside the ideal birthdays they had in mind and listened to what the other had to bring to the table. They know they're stubborn and have butt heads from time to time. Hell, it led to you leaving them to figuring this out on their own just now.

"We should get momma something too."

They discussed some more before calling it a night and going to sleep.

The next morning you wormed yourself out from between them and out of bed to head to work. Your morning routine was a simple one with Rose and Lily being the easiest kids ever when it came to breakfast. You woke, fed and burped each one before putting them back to bed and gurning the volume on the baby monitor all the way up so your boys would wake up if the girls got fussy.

On your way past the dinner table you found almost the entire birthday planned out from decorations to guest lists and drinks. You only had time for a quick glance so leaving a little "let's look after dinner" note was your final action before heading out.

Together you gave everything a once-over and settled on all the details fairly quickly that evening and the party was better than expected with so many lovely gifts from both Carmy's and Lip's families. Flower themed cake and little cupcakes were available as your little girls were pampered and smothered with cuddles and kisses from everyone.

After the party was over and the girls were asleep you happily cleaned up together and went off to bed. The boys wanted to have one last smoke before joining you and came in with a small box wrapped in a little bow.

"We know today is our baby girls' day," Lip started as he sat down on one side of the bed.

"But you deserve something special too." Carmy added as he sat down on the opposite side and handed you the small box.

Opening the box you couldn't keep your eyes off the thin gold chain with an engraved heart shaped pendant on it.

The front read 'Momma' in a beatiful cursive lettering, and the back had both Lip and Carmy's full names on them.

#sometimes i write #gallzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #lip gallagher #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #lip gallagher x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #shameless

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thislovintime · 9 months

Photo

On the set of Head, 1968.

“‘What stood out for me with Davy as an artist was his spontaneous stagecraft,’ Tork recalls. ‘He enjoyed himself on stage, for sure, gloried in his part. He was so alert as an entertainer and so relaxed that things would come to him out of the blue and he would just go with them. He could be incredibly funny. Micky and I were always breaking up on stage. [...] I’m so sorry he’s gone. I’m going to miss that wit and heart.’” - Billboard, March 1, 2012

“Genuine, reliable and huggable, Peter is a natural person — really gets off on talent — loves other musicians and can jam along with the best of ‘em. I saw him holding his own with Hendrix, Stills, Young. He encouraged me no end. Bought me my first guitar and my first drum kit. […] Never really got into fashions — he had his own. The first guy I ever met who wore different-colored socks. Wore his belt buckle on the side. Hated boots. Always had on sandals or moccasins. He used to walk with a swagger, swinging his arms with a confident air. He calmed hysteria, and lifted depression. ‘Dried banana, anybody? Piece of orange?’ — smiling, waving, running his hand through his hair. He knew all the crew by their first names. Kids crying at his feet he lifted and hugged like a father calming a child. Health food was just starting to catch on in the sixties and Peter was kind of a forerunner of that whole scene. I’m afraid that sort of image was a little thin for two other guys I could mention, but I understood — I really did. And I think he knew it. […] He’s the most musically talented of us all by a mile. His songs are real. ‘For Pete’s Sake’ — which replaced the Monkees Theme at the end of the some of the shows of the second season — is one of my all-time favorite songs by anybody. I’ve joked a lot about Peter giving everything away. But it was true. He was always giving his spare room to someone who needed it for the night — anyone. And he always seemed far away somewhere — in a different space. But I’m glad I know him. Of all the things he gave, he gave me lots of laughs — and food for thought.” - Davy Jones

“[Micky] and Mike and I have a very cordial relationship and share a lot of common topics. We go to lunch together when we’re all in town and have a good time. I love and respect each of these guys in their own way, although the real joys that I shared with Davy were special. At one point we had some good hard connections but as the years rolled on, those things faded away. But I am sorry to see Davy go. He was the one member in the group that I had the strongest human connection with. I still have two guys that I love and respect left from the band, but we share a different dynamic.” - Peter Tork, Review Mag, May 27, 2016

"I only now have, in the last couple of years, come to understand how smart and good-hearted Davy Jones could be. I did not have the skills to notice that, even though I was drawn to it without knowing exactly why. But I certainly did not have the first clue of how to encourage all of the good stuff from Davy that I loved. I wish I could have known how to do it - and he might still be with us, even.” - Las Vegas Weekly, September 14, 2016 (x)

“Well, I’ve never been really close with Michael [Nesmith] for some reason. You know, I have a lot of respect for him and admiration. But somehow we’ve never integrated. We’ve never been warm with each other. We worked together and did pretty well at it really.” - Peter Tork, Clevescene, March 13, 2017

Q: “I’m curious about the various reunions that happened over the years. Is it safe to say that you guys were never really friends?” Peter Tork: “Oh, I don’t know. I would say I was pretty good friends with Micky, and there was a lot of love between me and Davy. I have a lot of respect for Mike Nesmith and we’ve structured ways to work together. Things rotate. It’s like having a basketball team. You know, gosh, it’s like having a championship basketball team. They go on the road every so often and do tours, you know, just exhibition tours but fortunately your music skills don’t deteriorate as fast as your basketball skills do, but I wouldn’t know what else to compare it to. We had a chance to go out together and we took it, and we had a great time, and if we were not friends at all we would not have been able to do it. We played tours months and months long: ‘86, ‘87, ‘89, ‘91, ‘92, ‘96, ‘97, 2001, 2002 and 2011, so we couldn’t have been such enemies.” - Phawker, circa 2012; re-published 2019

And a throwback to Michael's 1972 Hit Parader comments about Peter in an older post.

#Peter Tork #Davy Jones #Micky Dolenz #Michael Nesmith #Tork quotes #The Monkees #Monkees #Peter and Davy #Peter and Micky #Peter and Michael #long read #Head (1968)#Billboard Magazine #Clevescene #Las Vegas Weekly #Phawker #can you queue it

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pochipop · 2 years

Text

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — FALLING FOR YOU (DILUC X READER).

#. synopsis! — diluc ruminates on autumn and all it brings forth .

#. characters! — diluc.

#. warnings! — mild angst .

#. word count! — 1.5k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. notes! — this fic was written for a fall themed event hosted by @teyvattales + my chosen prompt was the quote "autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go" <3

Diluc wasn’t always so indifferent to the fall season. In fact, when he was much younger —still a happy-go-lucky mess of locks sewn from burning embers and eyes of roaring flames— he quite liked it. Autumn brought a bitter chill, one he used to relish in after the heat of summer became daunting to play in. Now, it serves only to remind him of memories he’d much rather keep buried deep inside. The nippy atmosphere reminds him of dark, stormy nights, of blood on his hands that seeped into the lines of his palms and into the grooves between his twitching fingers.

The cold reminds him of the brother he lost and has yet to regain, and of the father he simply cannot.

Then again, autumn isn’t all bad. It was around this time two years ago that Diluc spent three nights and four days working up the nerve to tell you what ended up being a jumbled mess of things that all but boiled down to “I love you.”

And love you he does, with every waking moment and every feeble beat of his waning heart. But loving autumn is another story entirely, —one Diluc hasn’t rewritten yet.

Still, he likes the way the leaves turn colors before they fall to the ground, like they’ve been staving off one last performance before the curtain closes on their vivid season. He also likes the crunch of dead leaves beneath his feet in the aftermath. The sound is comforting in a way he can’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it’s cathartic to hear something crush beneath his weight when the world has all but shoved him to his knees under its own every chance it’s gotten for Celestia knows how long by now. Maybe he just thinks the sound itself is satisfying. Maybe he’ll never know one way or the other.

The sudden rise of innocent giggles through the chilly autumn air pulls Diluc from his contemplation. You stoke the dimming fire in his chest when you snicker a little.

“They’re so cute and carefree,” you comment, a smile tugging at your lips.

Diluc nods, but says nothing in return.

Kids have always loved to play in the leaves that pile up around Dawn Winery this time of year. They come and go as they please knowing Diluc has no complaints about it. His father always let the local children of Mondstadt come by whenever they wanted, making it a well-known destination for little feet and tiny hands to come clambering through.

Although it feels like it was centuries ago by now, Diluc was once just like them. He has many fond memories of being in their shoes, rummaging about with Kaeya as their father tended to the grapevines. They’d play much like the kids just a ways off are playing now; gathering all the leaves together into a pile, then counting to three and jumping into them to watch as they scatter up into the air.

These days, Diluc lets the local kids play at Dawn Winery, both in memory of his late father’s wishes, and to commemorate the days of his youth. . . The youth he shared with Kaeya, who’s now the acting Cavalry Captain for the Knights of Favonius. Such a fancy title for someone so indignant, Diluc thinks, but he can’t say that his sibling doesn’t deserve it. Unfortunately, Diluc also can’t say he doesn’t love Kaeya, or that he sees him as a stranger, despite the obvious fractures in their tattered relationship. He may well hold a lot of grudges against the younger, but the starry-eyed knight inside of him knows all too well that Kaeya will always be his little brother. Diluc always wanted one of those.

“You’re quiet today,” you comment, reaching out to take one of Diluc’s large hands into your own.

Quieter than usual, anyway, you think, but choose not to tack on.

Though your hands aren’t much warmer than his, you rub your skin along his so that the friction results in heat. For someone with a Pyro Vision, Diluc’s hands are prone to being cold.

“I’m just. . .” he begins, but trails off a bit, searching for the right way to say it.

“Just thinking,” he decides.

That’s putting it mildly, for certain, but it’s the only way he knows how to phrase it.

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer.

It’s a pleasantry, —one that Diluc appreciates, but won’t take you up on until he’s been pushed a little closer to the edge. Right now, these feelings weigh heavily on his heart, but they’re nothing he can’t handle. When the scale tips a little, he’ll seek your guidance. If the scale doesn’t tip at all, he might do it anyway. That’s the way he’s always been.

“That’s okay,” he replies.

Somewhere between the nod and the smile you offer in response, there’s a silent “but thank you very much, because I know you’d listen if I chose to talk about it”. He doesn’t have the words or the will right now, and he’s been searching for them since that fateful, rainy night all that time ago. You don’t get it, but you get him, and there’s not much else to understand as far as Diluc is concerned.

He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. His fingers are still cold.

“On the count of three we jump, okay?” One of the little boys asserts, to which his friends reply with a chorus of affirmations.

A part of you can’t help but to imagine that Diluc played a similar role when he was that age. Confident and effortless to follow the lead of, it’s easy to think your lover was the head of the pack, even if he’s quiet and likes to work alone these days. You didn’t know him back then, but you’ve heard your fair share of stories (especially from Kaeya, who might not know it, but his unhidden eye sparkles with fondness when he talks about his brother.) They might not be related by blood, but the bond they have is undeniable; even in the thick of their shared anger and bitterness. Some things take time to soothe over, and you suppose that’s one of them.

Diluc doesn’t say it, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes that tells you his train of thought isn’t far off from your own. There’s lots of things he doesn’t say, but over time, you’ve gotten quite good at reading between the lines he draws for you. For someone so complex, Diluc can be starkly simple, and you love him for it.

“What’re you smiling about?” He asks.

You hadn’t realized that your lips were curling up ever-so-gently at the sides, but with Diluc on your mind, it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Nothing in particular,” you shrug, grin widening. “I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Today is nothing inherently special, but Diluc can’t say he doesn't feel the same. Your hands don’t warm him much, but your love has set him ablaze. Again, he says nothing in return, but the mimicking grin that etches its way across his face speaks volumes he can’t find the voice to. It’s easier to appreciate the good of the world when you’re next to him, —easier to appreciate the beauty of autumn instead of mourning the losses all around him.

Diluc decides then that he’ll make apple cider for you this year. He’s sure his father would have wanted you to try it anyway. Maybe he’ll send a bottle Kaeya’s way as well, even if his little brother never liked it nearly as much as he did. When he thinks about it, his chest feels a little lighter. You’ll put the rim of a pristine glass to your lips, and he knows he’ll get a little lost in the way they form to match the flow of the bubbling liquid inside as you tilt it ever so gently. He’ll have to force his gaze away before you catch sight of it, lest you notice and give him a little laugh that makes heat rush to the plush of his cheeks.

There’ll be a note tied to the neck of Kaeya’s bottle, but Diluc won’t sign it. There won’t be any doubt about who it came from in spite of it. Though it’s not the Cavalry Captain’s drink of choice, he won’t hesitate to pour himself a glass. Oceans rage between them, but he’ll sit up in his office with his feet kicked up in a way his late father likely would have scolded him for, sparkling apple cider in hand. He’ll finish the bottle before the week comes to a draw, and he’ll know that the crashing waves between them have settled, if only for a little while.

Diluc might share a glass with you when the mid-fall moon rises high into the sky, —when Dawn Winery is awash in the humble glow.

Maybe then Diluc will take a moment to realize just what he can learn from the season when autumn shows him just how beautiful it can be to let things go.

#diluc #diluc and kaeya #diluc ragnvindr #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x y/n #diluc angst #genshin angst #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #genshin x reader angst #diluc x reader angst #diluc x you #genshin reader insert #diluc reader insert #diluc ragnvindr x reader #im falling for you collab event

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sungie · 2 years

Text

ROOMING WITH CATER DIAMOND

GOOGLE SEARCH – IM FEELING LUCKY!

ACCOUNT SIGN IN: CATER DIAMOND

[HOW TO: MAKE GOOD FIRST IMPRESSIONS]

The moment Cater’s scrawly signature appears beneath yours on the apartment lease, he legally binds the two of you together for a year. And a long one, by the looks of it. Cater hightails into your life without any care for speed limits, which clearly explains why he has the audacity to assume the two of you are already best friends.

“We’re not,” you correct, crossing your arms. “We’re roommates.”

Click. Beside you, Cater’s winking cutely at his phone, holding a lazy peace-sign just below his jaw. Click. He takes another one.

“Did you just … ignore everything I said?”

At your exasperation, Cater grins cheerfully. “Gotta show off my new roomie!” He shows you the photo, zooming in on your face. “Okay to post?”

Five seconds ago you glowers at an out-of-frame Cater. “Huh? Yeah.”

“Yay!” Cater looks positively thrilled. “What’s your user?”

[caycay] requested to follow you now

Accepting his request feels like lining up to an early death. And you’re half-right, seeing how quickly your phone fills with Magicam notifications.

[caycay] liked your post 3min ago

[caycay] liked your post 3 min ago

[caycay] tagged you in their story now

The boldness of it all amuses you. Cater Diamond. He’s … definitely something.

“Stalker.” You snicker, scrolling through his feed. Despite trying (and failing) to keep Cater at arms-length, you can’t resist a little tease. “Don’t go falling in love with me now, caycay.”

To your surprise, he isn’t fazed. Not in the slightest.

“Too late!” Cater laughs, slinging an arm around you. “Just kidding. I’m gonna be the best roommate you’ve ever had.” And then, mirroring your words with a wicked grin: “So, don’t go falling in love with me now, (Y/N).”

“I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

You tap on Cater’s story, amused at the contrast between the two of you. And you almost skip to the next, until Cater leans over your shoulder. Too casually.

“Like and reshare? It helps the views come in.”

“You’re so. Oh my god.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! You’re super cute. Bet you’ll get a bunch of followers.” He hums in affirmation. Then, “maybe I shouldn’t have tagged you?”

He pouts, dipping his head into your field of vision. “Don’t like any of them better than me.”

“Maybe a hot barista will slide into my dms. Know any?”

“I know a hot baker,” Cater hums, counting on his fingers. “Hot TA, hot single dad with kids, hot influencer times two. Shameless self-promo.”

“Cater, what the hell, I’m not looking for a sugardaddy–”

“Really? Too bad. I’d show some ass for a couple hundred.”

“Up it to a thousand, then we’ll talk.” You glance down at your phone.

[trappolace] requested to follow you 5m ago

[traytarts] requested to follow you 3m ago

[kalim] requested to follow you 3m ago

[therealriddlerosenhearts] requested to follow you 1m ago

[dil.lillia.f] requested to follow you now

“Well,” Cater grins, pointing at your phone, “speak of the devil!” He goes on a list, “hot baker, hot TA, hot single dad. Didn’t snatch the influencer yet … whomp whomp. If it makes you feel better, neither have I.” Then he blinks, leaning closer to your phone.

He sighs. “Seriously? It took me days to convince Riddle to follow me. And all it took was … five minutes?” Cater sulks.

Already back to his phone, he speed-dials Riddle, eyes twinkling. “Well, well. Welcome home, cheater.” He turns back to you, playfully sticking out his tongue before disappearing off to his room. “Pretty privilege. Share some with the rest of us, yeah?”

[HOW TO: MAKE HOME FEEL LIKE HOME]

IKEA runs? Disaster. Cater throws himself onto bold and abstract red couches, claiming a sentimental tie to a Night Raven College Heartslabyul dorm blast-from-the-past.

You helplessly point at the beige, drawn to minimalist-themed apartments. So, as all things go, you compromise. Your common-space clashes, full of vibrant colors and light, simple decor.

Even stranger, Cater side-steps all offers of your housewarming cookies.

“Sure you don’t want any?” You frown in concern. “I promise there’s no catch, or anything.”

“Nope,” Cater says, popping the ‘p’. “I’m allergic to chocolate.” He winks, playfully. “Maybe I’ll have you replace Trey as hot baker.”

Strangely, you watch Cater melt a whole piece of chocolate into his chili. No hives, no allergic reaction, nothing. Unfortunately, you don’t do a good job of secretly scrutinizing his appearance. Cater takes the rest of his dinner to his room, clearly creeped out.

You: ▓▒░(°◡°)░▒▓

Cater: (〇_ｏ)

As result, you don’t let Cater near any of your cooking for a month, positively convinced he thought your housewarming cookies were gross. It gets so bad, Cater's forced to clarify he hates ALL sweet food.

“I wanna bake stuff you like,” you start, “but I don’t know what to make. What’s a savory pastry?”

“Wanna try a quickie?”

You blink at him deadpanned.

“Quickie, Quish … you know. Quiche. Egg tart.” A lazy smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Egg tart with chives, cheese, and ham. Ever done that before?”

“I know you know how to say quiche.”

Cater shrugs, mischievously. “Thanks (Y/N)! Love you!”

You wake up the next morning to a reaction video posted on Tiktok, and flowers on the kitchen table.

To (Y/N), thanks for the quickie! normally i don’t pull out after the first date, so don’t kiss and tell! thanks babes xo

Cater’s phone vibrates within the next couple minutes:

from cute roomie: I HATE YOU. SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN

from cute roomie: thank u for the flowers i love them <33

Cater, unsurprisingly, likes trends. He also loves photos.

“There’s this trend going ‘round I want to try. You take polaroids of everyone who visits, then have a whole gallery by the end of the year. Cute, right?”

At your excited reaction, Cater laughs. He sighs, running a hand through his hair to mock-whine. “Aw, if only Trey were as cool as you, (Y/N).” He leans in, as if sharing some important secret: “He called it a silly fad. Can you believe?”

He pulls out his phone, simultaneously chatting with you and typing quickly. “Just for that, I’ll have him treat us to a housewarming tart. Got a favorite?”

Beat. Whoops.

Cater realizes his slip, then keeps his eyes glued to his phone, clearly aware of the dirty look you’re sending him (still 12% miffed about the housewarming cookies). “Nope. Never tried any.”

Cater’s eyes pop out. “No? You gotta try Trey’s tarts. They look so good, you won’t want to eat them.”

While moving boxes into his room, Cater takes one trip to ground-floor, arriving ten minutes later with arms full of globular, orange and red blobs.

“Cater …”

“Aha, (Y/N)! Prop the door open for me?”

“Why do you have pervy pillows.”

Cater’s jaw drops. “Huh? They’re cute. See?” He holds the perviest blob up to your face. “You’re looking at the newest addition to the FUN collection.”

You almost get the ick. “It’s your fault when my sleep paralysis demon looks like that.”

“You’ll really love my sexy body pillow, then.”

Cater lets you take a peek into his room from time to time. It consists of three main colors: crimson, black, tangerine. Four-poster bed with an abstract tangerine duvet and pervy pillows. He’s got a desk with a couple photos framed on the wall, with cello, bass, and guitar cases leaning against the wall. You haven’t heard him play, yet.

The one thing you agree on wholeheartedly: warm lighting. Pretty light fixtures and cute lamps.

Surprisingly, Cater spends most of his time in his room. When he’s not hopping on the latest trends, flirting with a random victim, or adventuring to get the perfect-photo, Cater isolates and doesn’t come out, except with headphones that mean: don’t-talk-to-me-or-i’ll-take-out-your-entire-family-and-not-on-a-date.

You learn, quite quickly, to give Cater space. He’ll come to you on his own time.

Sometimes, it’s strange. Exhaustion circles darkly beneath his eyes, and even the shine in his hair dims. A couple months ago, you’d have thought seeing Cater like this would be impossible.

[HOW TO: MAKE FRIENDS WITH UR ROOMMATE (REAL)]

Half-way through your lease, you firmly declare that Cater Diamond, aka fake-ginger, aka number one on your “smack-a-bitch” list, suffers from Chronic Flirt Syndrome.

“No,” Cater whines, “I just like getting to know people. That’s all.” He rubs the back of his neck, sneaking a glance at the growing polaroids on the wall. Yellow post-it smiley faces tape over about ¼ of the photos, cueing countless hook-ups gone wrong.

“Inside and out?” You try, innocently.

Cater whines. “Gonna report you for bullying. So mean, (Y/N).”

And even worse, he’s a terrible roommate!

You find out he’s not even a real ginger, when he makes you bleach his roots and help wash his hair, while he later applies red hair-dye all under the guise of “roommate bonding”!

“You’re just lazy.”

“Yeah,” Cater agrees, raising his voice over the Jpop blaring from the bathroom, “but it’s fun! Right?”

While waiting for bleach and dye to set, Cater makes playlists for you and sends them over. Success rate of containing good music: ⅔

Switches the sugar and salt containers just to film a #reactions video on Tiktok! Even posted one reaction video with you in a facemask and greasy hair! Which. was. the. one. that. went. viral.

You made Cater pay you fifty for emotional damage.

But that’s not even the worst of it. He films thirst-traps in the living room. Apparently, the lighting looks ‘oh, so much better than from his room!”

You’re convinced this is a huge lie. No way, Cater likes the mismatched furniture aesthetic in the common room better than his pervy pillows.

One time you saw Cater filming and he actually looked good.

(╬ Ò﹏Ó)

#HOLYWATER #NOSIMPINGALLOWED

He has … little fangs when he smirks a certain way

And! Even leaves hot-sauce bottles out instead of putting them back in the fridge!

Except, Cater isn’t all bad.

Late nights of work and deadlines automatically get accompanied with a mandatory hour break, where Cater makes after-midnight ramen and fire noodles. The spice feels so good, and you can’t get enough. Sometimes it’s so spicy you cry. Maybe you and Cater eat too much spicy food, because after a while, it only brings a slight rush of heat. Cater wants to upgrade to ghost-pepper.

“You’re gonna take a massive shit afterwards.”

“More post-shat clarity,” Cater teases back. “Anyway, don’t shit shame. Rude.”

Sometimes Cater’s friends come to visit. trappolace, or Ace, continues to leech off your wi-fi, your laundry machines, and to whine about that god-awful polaroid of him pinned to the cork-board.

“C’mon, take a new one! Please, pretty please?”

Cater shakes his head, grinning wickedly. “Those eyes won’t work on me. You’ll have better luck with (Y/N).” He winks at you. “And I’ll think about it. You’re really pulling off that drunken glow–”

“Oh, dear.” You have to drag an enraged Ace off Cater and semi-permanently ban him from the apartment.

Cater draws a mustache and angry eyebrows on the Ace polaroid. The expression looks very familiar.

Underneath the polaroid reads: EVICTED!! PIN OF SHAME!!

Meanwhile, Cater starts posting on his Magicam story. just got ace-crimed :( @ trappolace sorry i told u to stop picking ur nose ,, won’t do it again #imsorry #plsforgiveme #kleenex #isyourfriend

Ace blows up Cater’s phone. You nudge closer to Cater, bursting into laughter at the notifs traveling down Cater’s phone.

[trappolace] replied to your story: DELETE THIS. 1m ago

[trappolace] replied to your story: DELETE THIS. now

[trappolace] replied to your story: YOU MOTHERFUCKER. now

“Why would you post that,” you giggle, “you’re terrible. Might have to expose you, too.”

“Oh, yeah? What for?”

“He’s a ten, but deletes his mental health to focus on social media. Probably gets off to his pervy pillows. They’re part of the FUN collection? What type of fun, huh, caycay?”

Suddenly, you remember why the eyebrows Cater drew over the Ace polaroid look so familiar.

Cater cackles. He playfully pokes you in the side, resting his head on your shoulder. “You think I’m a ten? Look,” he half-wraps his arm around you to show you his phone, “he’s still going.”

You can’t stop laughing. It hurts your ribs, and you struggle to breathe in, gasping at air. “Poor Ace. And you’re a one. One.”

“There,” Cater murmurs, and you can hear the amusement in his voice. Think he’s not quite talking about Ace now. Feel the warmth of his gaze against your skin, the comforting hold of his arms. “That’s why I posted it.”

You blink. The look in his eyes.

“Wanted to make me choke?”

Cater snickers. “Maybe later. At least ask me out first.”

You lightly whack his chest with each word. “Chronic. Flirt. Syndrome.”

Cater pouts, wrapping his arms around you. “Aw, (Y/N)! You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Tell that to your hook-ups on the wall.”

“I don’t do that anymore!”

“Uh huh.”

Cater does, in fact, delete the story after you’ve seen it.

Or traytarts, whose user you learn belongs to Trey Clover.

Ends up bringing housewarming tarts five months late.

Apparently, the two of them met during their first year of NRC.

While Cater’s off taking phone-calls from work or piss breaks, Trey grumbles that Cater tried disappearing from his life five times after they graduated, until he eventually gave up.

So, don’t take it personally if he does that, Trey warns. It might happen soon.

Cater happens to walk-in at the tail-end of your conversation. He looks, amused? “Ah, IRL ghosting, am I right? Boo boo. Trey didn’t let me. So sad. Now I’ve got to look at his tarts every. single. day. ”

“It wouldn’t kill you to do a promotion out of the goodness of your heart,” Trey chuckles.

“So cheesy,” Cater mimes a hand to his chest, then smiles, wickedly. This smile feels a bit different, then Cater’s usual smiles. “Besides, we’re not best friends. Remember? Get outta here, Trey.”

A while later. “Why do you have so many followers?”

Cater laughs, plopping down on the couch beside you. “I’m super mega-cute,” he teases, flashing you a charming smile. “Nah. I moved around like, eight times before NRC. Got a bunch of followers from different schools, and they stuck around because I’m so cool and hip! The rest? They swarm to me after perfectly curated posts, hashtags, and TOD: time of day.”

“Why so much?”

Cater shrugs, glancing down at his hands. “My dad’s job. Absent father trying to provide for a big, happy family. That sorta stuff, hah.” His gaze flickers back to you, guiltily. He reaches out, nudging your chin up. “Hey. Don’t look so sad,” he says, tentative smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It wasn’t so bad. Got to travel around the world! How many kids can say they did that?”

“Cater,” you murmur.

Cater presses a finger to your lips. “It’s fine. Really.” He grins. It feels … forced. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to a couple places I lived. I’ll be like a real tour-guide. Fun, right? It pays to know the locals.”

Later, Trey’s words circle around your head.

Cater fell off the face of the earth like, five times after NRC. Plus a couple times during NRC winter breaks. But try not to take it personally. He’s,” Trey pauses, sighing. “let’s just say he’s gone through a lot more than it looks.

Google Search: how does frequently moving affect you as a kid?

The results make your head spin.

[HOW TO: FIGURE OUT IF THEY LIKE ME?? QUIZ]

After showers, Cater smells like shea butter. He takes care of his hair and skin religiously, switching up his routine based on new products shipped to him by different companies, but he always keeps his showergel the same.

Sometimes, you wake up to a fresh-cup of coffee. Cater wafts the cup beneath your nose, obnoxiously poking your cheek to rouse you. He’s lucky he made you coffee, otherwise you’d yell at him for touching your face. If Cater doesn't wash his hands …

Other nights, the two of you find each other relaxing on the couch, limbs tangled together and things just feel right. You’ve both got dating apps open, giggling at different matches and comparing them.

“No,” Cater says, staring in horror at the account displayed on your screen. “He looks like a total bore. Wanna bet he uses Axe body spray religiously on first dates?”

“Pfft. Don’t be mean. Sebek?” You try, sounding his name on your tongue as you swipe through his selected photos. “Maybe not. He seems a little obsessed with … um? Does he have a boyfriend?”

Cater nudges closer to you, peering at your phone. He laughs. “More or less. Left!”

One night, Cater proposes a game of truth or dare. The empty pink bottle of sake spinning between the two of you blurs in and out like sea-glass and kaleidoscopes.

“Truth,” you mumble.

Cater takes a while to think. “When we first met and joked about falling in love … What do you mean, you’d never make the same mistake twice? If not,” He gestures to the small flask of hiya sake, then shakes his head. “Just down some water, or something. Don’t drink anymore.”

He sighs, amused and exasperated all at once. “You really can’t handle your alcohol, can you? Gonna have to find myself a new drinking buddy.”

You shrug. “Meant what I said. Last roommate and I had a thing. After our lease ended, they ghosted. Probably annoyed them.”

Cater spins the bottle. He doesn’t wait for it to land. “Dare.”

You stare at the ceiling. “Can you like … stop being so fake?”

Cater’s voice steels. “What?”

“Sorry,” you stumble back, “didn’t mean it like that.”

“Insert cringe motivational quote: drunk words mean sober thoughts. Just say it.”

“Okay,” you continue, not aware enough in the moment to read social cues, “you do this thing a lot. You know, where you’re not feeling it. And then you put on this act. Dare you to stop doing that. With me.” Your voice falters. “It makes me sad.”

The silence stifles. It’s so heavy.

“You might not like me so much, anymore.”

“I already like you too much. That might be a good thing.”

Cater laughs, quietly. “You know, for all the times you drag me for being a flirt, you’re out here doing the exact same thing. Especially when drunk.”

“Just telling the truth. That’s not flirting, Caycay.”

Cater smiles mirthlessly. “Alright. That’s enough.” He picks you up, carrying you to your room. When he tucks your duvet up to your chin, his thumb brushes against your cheek, lingering seconds longer than he should. “Night, (Y/N).”

“Cater,” your voice slurs. “It really hurts.”

He’s already doubling back, knees scuffing against hardwood as he stumbles to your bedside. “Did I hurt you? Where does it hurt?”

You lightly poke his chest. “There. When they left,” you mumble, dozing off. “You won’t leave me, too, will you?”

Cater looks like he’s seen a ghost.

[HOW TO: RUN AWAY (AGAIN).]

Cater spends less time at home. He knows your schedule so well, he ends up leaving before you wake up, and returning when you’re done with dinner. On the chance you wait for him, he takes his dinner to his room.

Sometimes, he switches. Like, he feels bad for the way he’s acting. Sometimes he’ll greet you in the mornings with a cheerful smile, and you’re so stupid for thinking things will go right back to how they were. It’s a slap in the face when the next day, his wall slams back down. Distant.

“Cater,” you whisper one morning, stepping in front of him, “what’s wrong?”

The archaic smile on his face never falters. “Nothing. Never better.”

Living with Cater starts to feel a lot like the last couple months with your ex-roommate. And it scares you.

HOW TO: GET FEATURED ON ‘HEY REDDIT, AM I THE ASSHOLE’?

[caycays]: (y/n), i’m gonna be super honest ,, i think we’re getting too close. and it’s really scary. i can’t keep friendships longer than a couple years, much less relationships. i think we should start acting like roommates. just roommates.

[caycays]: i’ll move out after lease ends. sorry for being that second mistake.

[HOW TO: REACT WHEN THEY WON’T LET YOU DO. THAT]

A couple weeks later, you sit Cater down on the couch.

“I’m not gonna try to change your mind,” you start, before he says anything. “I want to give you space. I’m not mad.” You gauge his reaction, careful not to overstep. “But I need to know what I can do to be a better roommate for you.”

“What?”

“Boundaries, Cater. Times you want me out the apartment. Things I can do to make you feel more comfortable.”

The look in his eyes. He blinks quickly, then rubs a hand behind his neck. “That uh. That works.”

You and Cater set up schedules to give both of you time at the apartment alone. Cooking meals every other day. You take M,W,F, he takes TU, TH, S. But leave the pot simmering on the stove – he’ll take his meal in his room, or be on his phone with headphones at the dining table.

For you: make breakfast together on Sundays. Treat me like I’m a person, not invisible. Let me use the TV screen to watch my favorite show Fridays at 10pm. Alone.

“And Cater,” you murmur, “I’m sorry for that night. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. It’s not your responsibility to act like my ex-roommate gone right.” You start to get up. “I’m sorry for projecting. It wasn’t okay.”

Cater reaches for your wrist. He looks at you, then darts his gaze away to stare hardly at the light fixtures. “I,” he starts, “It means a lot that you’re still here. After everything.” He releases your wrist, then drapes his arm across his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

[HOW TO: GO BACK TO NORMAL? IS THAT POSSIBLE?]

Cater feels … kinder.

Is that a thing? He’s the same Cater over text, Magicam DM, Twitter, Tiktok, you name it. Same sense of humor, cheery persona, perfect mood-setter. But at home, he seems to unwind. Slowly.

Sometimes, you’ll arrive home to Cater cooking dinner, nervously gesturing to the table already set with tableware. “Wanna eat together?” He’s attentive when he listens to your day, hesitantly sharing some details about his own … at least, how his day really was. Not the stuff he puts on Magicam.

Other nights, he’s the same. Same Cater you’ve known since day one. He twirls you around in the living room, laughing when he sees the smile spread across your face. Rests his head in your lap while your run your fingers through his hair.

Now, he even lets you listen when he plays cello. Says it's easier to express things through music.

You missed it by a long shot, when you called him fake. Because Cater’s not … fake. He’s a lot of things, all at once. Shameless flirt, chronically online, depressed adhd introvert, glamorous influencer, life of the party, intuitive roommate.

Cater laughs when you tell him this. Tells you to stay tuned for more during the second year of your apartment lease.

SIGNING OUT: CATER DIAMOND

SHUT DOWN? MONITOR AUTOMATICALLY SLEEPS IN 30 SECONDS.

#cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond hcs #cater diamond headcanons #cater x reader #cater hcs #twst

279 notes · View notes

allzelemonz · 2 years

Text

Dinner Mystery of Love: Rajesh Koothrappali X Male Reader

It’s been three weeks since you and Raj started dating in an official sense. Before that there were instances that seemed quite a bit like dating, but you’d never put any sort of label on it. Your hands might linger when they brush while flicking through comics at the store, you might meet when Sheldon says something odd, or you might navigate to one another to stand close in an awkward situation. It all came together three weeks ago, and you both agreed not to tell your friends right away.

However, recently, Raj had that dinner party itch. The one where he has to throw a themed night full of mystery or he’ll turn to a ball of pure whine. He’ll mope around about how no one ever wants to come to his parties and how he loves throwing parties and you’ll tell him how much you adore the parties and the little mysteries. It’s a whole thing. So, you convinced the group to enthusiastically agree when Raj invited them and to keep their complaints for later on.

In the grad midst of his planning, the apartment looking like a conspiracy theorist with a knack for color coding was let loose, he had an idea pop into his head.

“You know, this would be a perfect time to tell everyone about us.”

Your adorable boyfriend, pen still in hand, says this out of nowhere and nods along as if it’s a new hot take. The cup in your hand nearly slips at the sudden idea.

“What?”

“That could be the final clue!”

He turns back to the papers in front of him and he starts scribbling again.

“Woah, woah, woah. You want to tell them that we’re together through your dinner mystery?” You sit down next to him on the couch.

“Of course, it’s perfect!”

The bright light in his eyes makes your heart melt, but something about telling them this way is concerning. Raj’s pure enthusiasm spreads over to you as he begins to ramble about how the whole dinner can be a subtle love theme.

“As long as you rig it so Sheldon doesn’t find out first, you can do whatever you want.”

Raj launches back into his excitement, planning out every little detail for the Friday night dinner. You have to make him go to bed as he gets so caught up in how fun the night will be.

When the dinner rolls around you arrive at Raj’s to find it decked out in roses and candles. The subtle romance theme has turned into full on romance. His outfit is the most dapper thing you’ve ever seen him in, cane and top hat included. He makes it work.

His excitement spreads to Howard and Bernadette when they arrive. Penny and Amy get wrapped up in it as well. You have to elbow Sheldon to get into things, but he shows his effort with a smile. Penny brings Leonard around after you convince Raj to let them play the mystery as couples.

It’s not as elaborate as some of his other parties. Everyone stayed in the same building at least. It didn’t stop Bernadette from practically picking up and throwing Howard across the room when he got in her way of the next clue. In the end it’s Penny that finds the final envelope and reads it.

“I can't be bought, but I can be stolen with a simple brush of hands. I am shared with many, but most recently, between the two most handsome men in the room. What am I?”

“Well that’s subjective.” Sheldon whines. “You can’t put opinions in a riddle, it ruins the riddle.”

The group is quiet for a moment and you wonder if they’ll see through Raj’s wording.

“Oh,” Penny breaks the silence. “Was this all just to tell us you guys are dating?”

Raj takes your hand in his with a grin on his face. “Penny wins.” His gaze stays on you, and you find yourself almost as lost in his eyes as he is in yours.

“We already knew that.” Howard says.

“What?” Raj turns to the group.

“It was rather obvious.” Amy chimes in.

“Yeah, you guys are always staring at each other and stuff,” Penny says from the snack table, pouring a glass of wine.

“We are not.” You laugh.

“Your eyes might as well turn into hearts when he’s talking.” Howard raises his eyebrows at you.

“I think it’s sweet.” Bernadette smiles.

“Thank you.” Raj nods.

“Sheldon, I think you owe Leonard something.”

Sheldon looks at you with annoyance. “Rats.” He mutters as he gets out his wallet and hands Leonard five dollars.

Two months ago, you overheard Sheldon betting that Raj and Howard would engage in coitus before Raj got into a serious relationship, according to relevant statistics. Leonard challenged, and now it’s paying off.

#rajesh koothrappali #rajesh koothrappali x reader #rajesh koothrappali x male reader #the big bang theory #the big bang theory x reader #x reader #x male reader

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porcelainseashore · 28 days

Text

Into the Ether (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Authors' Note: Suggestive themes, violence and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Fires of Rebellion

“So, talk,” you demanded, crossing your arms as you kept yourself at a suitable distance from Leon.

Both of you were currently walking up north along Good Street towards the City College. The plan had been to take a left at some point and head over to the park by Warren Street, where hopefully there would be some benches for you to relax on. It was still early enough in the night for your surroundings to be relatively bustling with people, so you weren’t too worried that the man beside you would try anything risky or stupid. In any case, you knew where you kept your pepper spray at hand if things went south.

“You’d already sensed it from the beginning,” he stated, swallowing thickly. How was it this hard to tell you who he really was? If he could sweat blood, he’d fill a whole bucket’s worth. Pig’s blood. A cop in pig’s blood. He knew plenty of people who’d pay to see him drenched in the vermillion fluid. “That I’m not exactly normal.” That was what he settled with.

“What, you mean like a serial killer or something?” you scoffed, shaking your head in mild vexation.

“No.” His voice was solemn but firm as he glanced at you briefly, making eye contact. “I didn’t… assault you, not in the way you think.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I just— I do things… that aren’t exactly normal.”

Great, Leon. You just made yourself sound like a fucking magician. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and paused his footsteps. “This is going well.”

You almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to be having such a difficult time articulating what he wanted to say. Was it some sort of kink he was talking about? The logical part of your mind berated you, insisting that this could go down far worse than you imagined, but you pushed it aside.

“Like what?” you asked, your morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

His jaw tightened as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side.

Before he could respond, you took the initiative, positioning yourself in front of him as a form of challenge. “Show me,” you requested.

His head darted in every direction, scanning the area with an animalistic instinctiveness and you thought you saw his eyes illuminate in a different color. However, when you blinked a second later, it had returned to its original pale shade of blue. “Too many people,” he muttered. “I’ll do as you ask, but we need to head somewhere quieter.”

You should’ve ran off after he said that, but your legs stayed rooted to the ground. Your lack of self-preservation was alarming. “The park, then?” you suggested.

He nodded in compromise. “I could work with that.”

The rest of the walk there took place in awkward silence, as you dwelled on what he would do and whether you were walking into one big, fat trap. Well, at least Patrick had his business card. And PIs, they had a registered license, didn’t they? It was too late to back out now, you’d gone this far and you wanted to see it through.

When you had found a secluded bench at one of the shaded corners of the park, he spoke up again. “Do you remember the first night we met? When—”

“You offered me cigarettes in exchange for coffee,” you finished the sentence for him.

“Yes,” he said with a wistful smile, as if reminiscing about a day he’d cherished but had long since passed. “You felt it, didn’t you? Compelled to stay, but with no reason why.”

Despite your reluctance, you had to agree with him. That moment between standing by his table and sitting with him to share in a smoke had been like entering the twilight zone. You were you, but yet, at the same time, weren’t.

“I can do it again here, if you want,” he murmured, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to bore right into you.

It wasn’t the first time you had leaped before looking. You’d always been known to be a little more reckless than your peers, but it seemed like you never really learnt your lesson well. “Be my guest,” you gestured melodramatically, as your hand swept across in one grand motion.

“Now, you’re just mocking me,” he chided, though a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips.

This time, there was a tingling sensation in your body, like an invisible warm light gradually enveloping you, except it seemed to exude from him. You were entranced by his stature, the minute details of his face, everything about what he was, to the point where you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.

“Sit,” he directed gently, placing his hand along the back of the wooden bench.

You felt nothing but desire. Desire to do anything he wanted you to. Without a word, you sank onto the bench like a doll, still giving him that doe-eyed expression one would normally reserve for a celebrity they were starstruck by.

Taking his seat beside you, he urged, “Come closer.”

Obediently, you shuffled up along the bench towards him, except it wasn’t out of fear of punishment, but a strange, radiant love that emanated from within you. When you were just inches away from his face, he slowly revealed the tips of his canine teeth, which were pointier than usual, and seemed to grow with each passing minute. As his features eased up, you could feel the uncanny warmth dissipate from your core, and though you were still captivated by him, his face seemed to lack the same lustrous sheen it held moments ago. Like a wandering spirit, you had arrived back into your own body. You were you again.

His eyes latched onto you, waiting, watching, biding his time, to see what you would do. Though he remained poised and composed, the unsteadiness of his breathing and the flicker of trepidation across his irises gave him away. He was afraid that you would leave him, for good. And after what he had given to have the right to Embrace you, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself if he were rejected.

It felt like hours had gone by until one of you spoke up. “Do you hate what you see?”

“No,” you answered, almost too quickly, cupping his cold cheek in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully into it, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It felt moist and heated against your skin.

You surprised yourself with how well you were taking all of this in. This shouldn’t have been possible and nothing about what he had shown you made sense. You blamed your tolerance on the late, sleepless nights and hanging around with the offbeat characters who frequented your cafe.

What if monsters did exist? you humored. Maybe not in the literal sense of vampires, but someone who relished the flavor of blood, and who’d learnt a few tricks of hypnotism. You tried to rationalize it as much as you could, but there were still so many missing pieces you did not fully understand.

“How many times?” you asked. “Did you force me… each night?”

He lowered his gaze, marred by shame, while looking to his hands nestled in his lap. “It was just that once,” he whispered. “I wanted you to stay with me.”

He pursed his lips. “The rest, later on… was you.”

“Did you—”

“Yes.”

You didn’t even need to continue your sentence for him to know what you meant. Yes, he tasted your blood. Yes, he enjoyed it. Yes, he came back for more. And more.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.

You didn’t acknowledge his apology, allowing even more time to slip through your fingers. A while later, you ran them along his cheek towards his lips, where his teeth which now looked more like fangs lurked. Right, how would you explain that away?

He didn’t stop you when you traced one of their edges, as if trying to figure out if they were real. He let you press the tip of your finger against its peak, purposely pricking yourself in some kind of deluded masochistic fantasy. The rush you felt from it was indescribable, like a spike of venom flowing into your veins, though it wasn’t as intense as the previous times to truly immobilize you. Grasping onto the back of the bench, you steadied yourself from the dizzying sensation.

A dark, ruby bead blossomed at the site of the puncture. His mouth lay open as he inhaled sharply, gripping the trousers on his thighs, and there was a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. However, he remained motionless, restraining himself somehow, as if awaiting your instruction.

“You like this?” A mixture of bewilderment and arousal seeped into your tone, as you brought your bleeding finger to rest just at the entrance of his mouth.

All at once, his veneer of calmness shattered. He swirled his tongue against your fingertip, causing you to gasp as it made hot laps around the miniscule droplet of blood you had to offer him. Dipping his head, he took the rest of your digit into his mouth, eventually sucking on it whole as he emitted a low groan in pleasure. When he finally let it go, a slick string of saliva connected to it from his lips, wet and hungry with need.

“I, um—” you shuddered, at a loss for words, as you retracted your finger, folding it into your hand.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened up in his seat, adjusting his attire and hair, as if he had come back to his senses once again. “You don’t have to decide on this right now,” he assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded shakily, your mind spinning from all the events that had just transpired. “Could we take another short walk before I head home?”

It would probably help to cool off a little, you thought.

“Anything you need,” he asserted, getting up as he took another glance around the park, before extending his hand to you.

You stared at it, contemplating further. “Just don’t—” you hesitated, pausing to rephrase your words. “I want to trust you, Leon.”

“I’ll earn it back,” he promised. “However long it takes.”

That was all you needed to hear from him. Perhaps you were naive to a fault, but you took his hand anyway, allowing him to lead you out of the park, and to whatever else fate had in store for you that night.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the course of the evening, a thin fog had developed, shrouding the sky and enveloping the moon and stars in a blurry veil, casting a muted light over the city. You and Leon had taken a short detour towards the more touristy part of town, where the landmark Saint Michael Clock Tower overlooked the grand waterway.

The ornate, Gothic structure loomed intimidatingly ahead, its roof cloaked in a wispy gray mist, though you could still make out the time on its huge clock face. Ten minutes past midnight. It was getting late, and although you were accustomed to working until the wee hours of the morning, you preferred to get some sleep on your nights off when possible. However, right now, a part of you wished that the night would last longer.

There wasn’t such a wide distance between you and Leon as before. In fact, your fingers were nearly touching, but neither of you had taken it further to close the final gap. Even in complete silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the city’s buzzing nightlife, both of you had somehow agreed on which pathways to take, falling in sync with each other’s footsteps, pauses and turns, like an unspoken dance. It was nice like this, having no expectations of the other person, just walking and feeling the thread of connection that bound the two of you.

Every now and then, he peered at you inquisitively, and you wondered if he had something to say, but when you looked his way, he turned his gaze back to the street in front of him. Coming to the entrance of a tunnel arbor near the clocktower, you paused to admire the sight of the vines and flowers that were wound around the metallic arches, interspersed with marigold fairy lights. There were still a decent number of stragglers in the vicinity. Probably the remaining tourists for the day who didn’t quite want to wrap up yet, some of whom were posing for pictures near the picaresque arbors.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Always the instigator and taking the confrontational approach. That was what you were known for.

“Hm?” he deflected, yet smiled at you knowingly.

“Just looked like you had something to say.” You shrugged, placing your hands on your hips.

“Nothing escapes you, huh?”

He was teasing you again; you were certain of it. Though this appeared to be twofold, where the second part was meant as a misdirection to hide a secret from you.

“It should be obvious that I like you,” he stated plainly.

Obvious to the point where he couldn’t afford to have one of those obnoxious Anarchs stake their claim over you, just for a bit of territory. You were worth so much more to him than that. Surely, it would be the lesser of two evils for him to be the one to Embrace you? It was all he could think about when he made that deal with Ada. Always justifying and compromising. That was what he was known for.

You couldn't fathom the sheer astonishment and joy that overcame him when Ada returned with the news a few weeks later:

“The Prince granted your wish,” she mentioned with an indifferent wave of her hand.

“How?” he choked in disbelief. “It usually takes years!”

“You underestimate me,” she scoffed. “Have you forgotten that I’m the voice of society?”

“No, of course not.” He hung his head in disgrace, as if he had just been told off by a parent.

“Anyway, I don’t have to tell you twice that you should thank him in person.”

Lifting a bejeweled chalice to her lips, she tasted its contents, allowing it to linger on the palate before letting it wash down her throat. “And by ‘thank’, I mean ‘grovel’.”

“Yes, sire.” He bent down on his knee and kissed the back of her hand in respect.

A shadow of annoyance flickered across her face, morphing into a frown. “You do know this makes you look weak?” she questioned rhetorically. “Being unable to convince the Prince yourself?”

He knew better than to respond when Ada was in such a mood.

“Don’t embarrass me.”

Her warning rang loud and clear in his ears.

“Who is it obvious to?” you challenged, pulling him out of his reverie. Maybe you had an undeniable urge to see him lose control over you again.

At this, he drew closer towards you, his eyes ablaze like a blue flame, as he snaked his arms around your waist. That was it — the thrill, the feeling you missed. It rippled through your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But before he could go any further, a sudden force tore him from his hold on you, hauling him violently backwards. He was flung in the air across a couple of yards, landing against the wall of a building with a sickening crack.

In the background, you heard screams coming from all directions, alongside whooshing sounds, followed by loud thuds. One soon popped up behind you and in an instant you found yourself smacked to the ground. There was a shrill ringing in your ears, your eyes watered, and your vision blurred as you started seeing double in front of you. You felt the back of your head. Wet. Sticky. Flowing. Your fingers were red and the concussion you suffered induced a dizzying spell.

A grizzly face appeared before you, but you couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features, except for the familiar shape of long fangs that glistened under the arbor lights. There was no time to put up a fight or even cry out for help, as you began to sink deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Leon had watched the entire scene unfurl before him like a twisted snuff film coming to life. The attack had taken him by surprise, but he quickly got up from his fall, resetting his bones and shaking it off like nothing had happened. The whole place was awash in scarlet. Blood streaked the city streets, trickling into every gap and crack, as the victims were messily drained of their lifesource. Whoever was behind this wanted the world to know. And that was when he witnessed the first of them turn.

A Mass Embrace? These Kindred definitely reeked of the Sabbat, and if not, they weren’t anyone who had been presented before the Prince; he would know. There wasn’t a second left to spare — he had to find you immediately. In his line of sight, he saw one of the culprits feeding on you greedily, and the primal rage he felt within him almost caused his Beast to take over. He hunched over and growled ferociously. His features transformed into something monstrous and his eyes were crazed as globs of saliva dribbled down his mouth.

It was fanning the flames of a Frenzy, one where he would slaughter every being in his path regardless of who they were, tearing them from limb to limb, and eviscerating their carcasses for what they had done to you. But his concern for your well-being won him over. Mustering up his willpower, he resisted the Beast as much as he could, and though he was still enraged, he needed to think straight and prioritize getting you to safety. That was all that mattered.

In the bat of an eye, he zipped across, yanking the other vampire away from your limp body, as they traded rapid blows. Another aggressor joined in the fight, as Leon dodged their swift counterattacks with deceptive ease, before connecting his right fist to one of their jaws and dealing a precise uppercut with his left to the other’s ribs, catching both of them off-guard.

Everything seemed to pass by in quicktime as he moved with an unnatural grace, spinning mid-air over one of their backs, only to grab the other from behind and slam him to the ground savagely. Gathering the rest of his strength, he took advantage of the momentum to stomp on the vampire’s head with the heel of his shoe. There was a nauseating crunch as his skull caved in from the blunt force trauma, splintering and sending blood splashing across the pavement, driving him straight into torpor. One down, one more to go.

The brutality of the violence he had displayed unnerved him, yet fuelled his excitement as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He attributed it to being partially influenced by the Beast the moment those bastards had put your life in danger. At least he had not fully succumbed to it. That was what he tried to tell himself while putting a lid on his unquenchable thirst for more. More violence. More bloodshed. They deserve it…

A cacophony of ghastly howls erupted from a distance, bringing him back to reality. Jill, it had to be, Leon realized. The Sheriff was coming to subdue this severe breach of the Masquerade. As the other vampire lunged at him, Leon’s reflexes took over, timing it such that he skirted the edge of the assault unscathed. Instead, he circled around, placing the attacker in an unyielding headlock. The vampire struggled vigorously, attempting to kick and claw his way out of Leon’s grip.

It was then that he heard Jill’s gruff yells in the vicinity, as the pack of dogs under her control barked and gnashed their teeth viciously at the remaining offenders, clamping down on their legs to prevent them from escaping. The Hound, a group of Kindred who reported to her, had arrived in tow, twirling wooden shafts in their hands, each sharpened at one end. Grinning menacingly, they struck at the assailants, staking them immobile before dragging them away.

“You need this one?” Leon called out. He might as well play by their rules where he got the chance, even if the Prince himself had decreed a perpetual Blood Hunt on the Sabbat. Anything to be in the former’s good graces. It was all for show, anyway.

Jill turned sharply, her mouth contorting into a wicked smirk, as she stalked towards him. “Leon… always at the right place, right time, huh?” Her voice was more akin to brutish snarl, but he knew when she meant her threats and when she didn’t. At this point, she was on his side.

“We have our hands full of the rebellious trash.” She jerked her thumb back to her crew, who were skulking around in the dark with their catch. “Kill this motherfucker.”

Without hesitation, Leon snapped the vampire’s neck clean, ripping his head off in the process as his lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Letting out a huff from the effort, he tossed the head aside, feeling nothing for the wretched being that lay at his feet. Or did he? He chose not to dwell on it any further, finding something else to distract himself with as he glanced down at his clothes, frowning when he noticed they were smeared with all sorts of fluids and innards. Dry cleaning was gonna be a bitch.

Jill signaled towards your body with her chin. “This one’s barely alive.”

“She’s mine.” A deep-seated possessiveness surged through him as he stepped between you and Jill, unwilling to let you be snatched away from his grasp again. Swooping down, he lifted you into his arms, ready to cart you off from this gruesome site. “Please, I don’t have much time.”

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head and a low rumble reverberated from her chest. “Alright, pretty boy. You’re answerable to the Prince though,” she warned.

“Understood,” he replied snippily, cringing at the nickname she often used to wind him up.

Directing her attention once again to her Hound, she commanded, “Torch the rest!”

The poor, newly created vampires never stood a chance, dealing with both the life-changing alterations to their bodies and the molotov cocktails now lobbed at them. They had no idea what was happening as they were set aflame in the towering bonfire, screeching and wailing until they were reduced to nothing but ashes. The smell of singed skin and flesh hung in the air.

Tightening his grip on you, Leon recoiled involuntarily in fear as he fled from the raging inferno. “Hang in there for me,” he whispered, praying to a long-forgotten god that he wouldn’t be too late this time.

Racing like his life depended on it, he kept to the shadows, using the cover of darkness to navigate through the maze of Raccoon City towards his haven.

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