#oh and i mixed white and brown sugar

[diehellasrache]

I saw a picture of palmiers and decided I had to try them or I would die. Unfortunately there's some local festival going on impeding my ability to freely acquire pastries so I decided to make some. Double unfortunately even with dough made by someone who has never doughne that sort of thing before, they're really really very good. I wish I didn't know this. It took like four hours and dirtied every dish in the kitchen. I used this puff pastry recipe and this assembly.

[tteotlma]

Sugar and Skin

First Encounter

Bucky’s never been sure if normalcy is something he’s cut out for. But when he meets you—a baker with a pretty smile—he starts to think maybe he could try.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (1.4kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI, mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers a/n: happy new year! this year i'd like to actually begin and complete a multi-parter story so this is my attempt!

---

“Welcome in!” Bucky heard as he stepped into the bustling cafe shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, and baked bread quickly engulfed him. He looked around for the source of the voice while taking in the neatly curated shelves of novels, mismatched wooden tables and the large handwritten chalkboard menu boasting about an array of the day’s specials. Despite its charm, Bucky felt heavily out of place in his chipped leather jacket, and mud cracked boots. 

With the patrons weaving past him like he was another display in the shop he continued scanning the area noticing a few stray cats lounging throughout the space. They basked in the early afternoon sunlight that poured through the large windows. One, a sleek gray cat with white mittens and socks stretched lazily on the windowsill, while another a white cat with piercing blue eyes, watched the room with curious intensity.

The customers greeted the felines as they entered the shop and followed the line that formed at the counter where a young man with boyish charm and unruly brown hair was expertly managing the register. Meanwhile a man with a clean shaven jawline and an infectious grin moved confidently between the counter and the coffee makers. 

“You need some help?”

Bucky turned to the voice, finding himself at the end of the display case with a woman on the other side. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping to frame her face. She barely paid him any mind as she deftly unloaded a giant tray of assorted pastries and bread into the glass showcase, her movements quick and practiced. The faint smudges of flour on her apron and the way she handled each item with care hinted at her role in crafting the delicacies.

“You look a little lost,” she said without looking up, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Can I help you find something, or are you just here to admire the cats?” she asked, finally glancing up at him. Her gaze was sharp but warm, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

 Her teasing tone caught him off guard, making him glance up sharply. His ears seemed to perk slightly, before he quickly refocused. “Pick up,” he said, his voice low and clipped, offering her a tight-lipped smile that was more reflex than intentional. 

She let out a small hum. “Name?” 

“Steve.” 

“Oh yes–” Her demeanor instantly changed as she put the tray down, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me get that for you.” Her hands masterfully opened a paper bag with clear cellophane, and slid open the sliding door to the showcase.

“Sam!” She yelled, causing Bucky to jolt. “I need Steven’s special.” She called out, and Bucky's eyes flicked back to her. Steven.

He heard a faint reply from across the cafe commotion and watched as she used the metal tongs to grab two bear claws from the wax paper lined tray. Bucky almost let out a snort but instead, he opted to shove his hands in his pockets, glancing down to his boots. He watched as crumbs of dirt crumbled from his shoe and littered the linoleum floor.

“What’s the Steven Special?” Bucky suddenly heard himself say. He looked at her through his lashes. He watched a small smile sneak across her lips. 

“A medium white chocolate macchiato, with two bear claws.” She said, fingers crinkling the bag shut as she slid it across the clear surface. This time Bucky let out a snort. Before he could thank her, she went back to unloading her discarded tray. He hesitated on grabbing the bag. 

“So you’re the new guy then?” She asked suddenly, quickly glancing at him. He looked at her. “Stevie's mentioned he’s expecting a new comer, and I’ve never seen you before so—” she explained. Stevie.

“Then yeah.” He gave a curt smile, reaching for the bag on the counter. 

“Thought so,” she said, her tone a hint lighter now as she turned back to her work. “He’s been talking ‘bout you for weeks, you know.”

“Nothing bad I hope.” 

 She turned to set down the now empty tray, glancing over her shoulder, a glint in her eye. “Depends on your definition of bad.” Her tone was playful but laced with just enough intrigue to make him pause. She spins swiftly, closing the display case. 

“Nah,” She shrugs with a smirk, “He’s just psyched you're here, it’s kinda cute.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. She waves a hand in the air.

“He’s just got this way of talking about things—”

“Order up.” 

The sudden burst out causing the both of you to abruptly turn toward the man holding out an oat-colored to-go cup.

The woman cleared her throat, shifting back to allow space for the man to step in. Her smirk faded into a polite, neutral expression, her focus now on adjusting a tray of napkins nearby.

“Steven’s special,” the man announced, his grin wide and easy, breaking through the tension that had lingered just a moment earlier.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the man, who was now leaning casually against the counter, holding the cup out as if he were presenting a prized trophy.

Bucky nodded and reached for the cup, his movements deliberate. “Appreciate it,” he said, his voice steady. 

“No problem,” the man replied, his tone light and teasing. “Better get it to him quick, he’s been talking about the claws all morning.” 

“Noted,” Bucky muttered, though his gaze flickered back toward the woman, who was now bent over another display, her attention fixed on her work as if the earlier exchange had never happened.

The man cleared his throat sharply, drawing Bucky’s attention. When Bucky turned toward him, he was already side-eyeing the woman before shifting his gaze back to Bucky with a deadpan expression. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a challenge in the look—like he’d caught Bucky doing something he shouldn’t be.

Bucky’s brow twitched in response, his face otherwise impassive, and he adjusted the bag in his hand.

“Thanks again,” he said curtly, stepping back from the counter.

Sam held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned his attention away from him.

Bucky stepped toward the door, the hum of the café enveloping him once more. His grip tightened slightly on the bag as he moved, but something tugged at his attention, making him glance back one last time.

The man was now leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his head tilted toward the woman. Whatever he’d said caused her to laugh softly, her shoulders shaking with the motion. The earlier ease in her posture had returned, her movements efficient and unbothered, as though their exchange had been nothing more than a routine part of her day.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face as she replied, her voice lost in the café’s hum. They shared another laugh.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing as he turned back toward the door. Pushing it open, he stepped into the cool air outside, the bell above jingling faintly as the door closed behind him.

As he walked down the street, the warmth of the café began to fade, but the soft intensity of the exchange lingered. He shook his head with a quiet huff of air, the bag crinkling faintly in one hand while the other held the to-go cup. His boots scuffed lightly against the pavement as he approached a sleek, dark car parked a few steps ahead.

Bucky unlocked it with a press of a button, the quiet beep breaking the stillness. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he set the paper bag on the passenger side and the cup in the holder before resting his hands on the steering wheel.

For a moment, he sat there, the hum of the café replaying in his mind. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it.

With a twist of the key, the engine purred to life, the quiet power of the car grounding him. As he pulled out onto the street, the cool air rushing through the window carried away the lingering warmth of the café—but not entirely.

---

a/n: I know there's barely anything there but I have an idea and im jsut trying to roll with it -- so if you have any ideas let me know! i’m begging — pls reblog to support!

[thesecondhandwoman]

CHRISTMAS COOKIE CATASTROPHE

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: It was Christmas Eve, and you and Sevika were trying to make cookies. But, with your lack of not making a mess, even with Sevika’s help, your baking session turned into a floury mess.

The kitchen smelled faintly of cinnamon and sugar, though the full Christmas cookie experience was still a long way off. Sevika stood at the counter with a smirk playing at her lips, her sleeves rolled up to reveal her muscular arms as she expertly mixed a batch of cookie dough. Across from her, you were frowning at a measuring cup like it had personally insulted you.

“Okay, so if the recipe says ‘packed brown sugar,’ does that mean I just squish it into the cup, or is there, like, an official technique?” you asked, brow furrowed.

Sevika chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your heart flutter. “You squish it in, sweetheart. Like this.” She reached over, taking the sugar and pressing it firmly into the cup with her fingers. “There. Not rocket science.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but some of us didn’t grow up knowing how to bake cookies like an expert.” You stuck your tongue out at her, but she just shrugged, smirking.

“Not my fault I had to keep Jinx and Isha fed without setting the house on fire. You learn fast when your life depends on it, especially when Christmas time comes around.”

You snorted at the image of a younger Sevika, stressed and likely covered in batter, trying to corral two chaos gremlins while making something edible. “That explains why you’re so annoyingly good at this.”

“What can I say? I’m multi-talented.” She winked, turning back to her bowl and kneading the dough with one hand while holding a recipe card in the other.

Meanwhile, you were wrestling with a new opponent: the bag of flour. It was one of those massive ones that seemed to exist solely to mock your lack of upper-body strength. “Ugh, why do they make these so hard to open?!” you grumbled, tugging at the corner of the bag.

“Careful,” Sevika warned, glancing up. “You’re gonna—”

“I’ve got it!” you interrupted, giving the bag a sharp yank. And then—poof.

A cloud of fine white powder erupted into the air, coating you from head to toe. Sevika, who had stepped closer to help, caught the brunt of the blast as well. For a moment, there was nothing but silence as the two of you stared at each other, flour settling like snow in your hair, on her prosthetic arm, even on her eyebrows.

Then Sevika burst out laughing. It was a deep, genuine laugh that shook her shoulders and made your cheeks burn, though you couldn’t help but join in. “I told you to be careful,” she said between chuckles, wiping at her face to no avail.

“I was careful!” you protested, though you were grinning. “Careful-ish. This is totally your fault for distracting me with your smug baking skills.”

“Oh, yeah? My fault?” She leaned in, her face inches from yours, her smirk downright mischievous. “Should I let you handle the oven, too? Or are we trying to blow up the kitchen tonight?”

“Hey!” you said, shoving her playfully. “I’ll have you know I’m an expert at, uhm, stirring.”

“Right,” she teased, plucking a stray streak of flour from your cheek. Her touch lingered for a moment, soft and tender, and your playful banter melted into something warmer. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat again under her gaze. “But I’m your mess.”

Her smirk softened into a small smile, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your flour-covered forehead. “Damn right you are.”

The rest of the evening was chaos in the best way. Sevika took over most of the actual baking, but you stayed by her side, sneaking tastes of dough and occasionally “accidentally” smudging frosting on her cheek. She retaliated by flicking flour at you, and soon the kitchen looked like a holiday war zone.

By the time the cookies were done, you were both covered in a mix of flour, sugar, and laughter. Sevika pulled a tray from the oven, holding it up for you to admire. “See? Perfect. Thanks to my expert skills and your…” She paused, grinning. “Moral support.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know my moral support is the only reason you didn’t burn them.”

“Uh-huh.” She set the tray down and pulled you into her arms, ignoring the mess. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you shot back, wrapping your arms around her. The warmth of her embrace��and the smell of freshly baked cookies—made everything feel perfect.

“Still a mess though.” She teased, smirking at your as she glanced down between flour-covered eyelashes.

“Shut up!” You chuckled, pushing her back a little before tugging her upstairs. “Now let’s hurry and shower so that we can watch a Christmas movie.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

And afterwards, as you sat together that night after cleaning up, sharing cookies that were slightly too crisp on the edges but perfect in their imperfection, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

[cailinsblog]

Baking Up Love: A Cozy Pumpkin Pie Date with Lando

Lando Norris x reader

The kitchen was buzzing with autumn vibes as Y/N and Lando prepared to tackle their first attempt at making a pumpkin pie together. Lando was fully equipped with a messy apron he’d already splattered with flour, while Y/N wore her own apron, ready to guide him through the recipe.

“Alright, chef,” Y/N said with a playful grin, holding up a can of pumpkin puree. “Ready to become a pie-making master?”

Lando looked at her skeptically, tilting his head as he glanced down at the ingredients. “I mean, I feel like I’ve got this,” he said with exaggerated confidence. “How hard could it be?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Y/N teased, already laughing at his clueless expression. “Let’s start with the crust, shall we?”

She handed him a bowl and some flour, and as he poured the flour into the bowl, a small cloud puffed up around them. He looked down at the small mess and grinned sheepishly. “So… maybe this’ll be a little harder than I thought.”

They moved through the steps of the recipe with Y/N guiding him and Lando playfully pretending to know what he was doing. Every once in a while, he’d shoot her a proud grin as he successfully completed a step, and she’d respond with an encouraging nod or clap.

“Alright, next step is adding cold butter to the flour,” Y/N explained. “Here, we’re supposed to cut it in until it looks crumbly.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure. “Cut in the butter?” he repeated, poking the butter with a fork.

Y/N laughed, taking his hand and guiding him through the motion. “Yeah, like this,” she said, helping him blend the butter into the flour. “It’s like you’re mashing it up.”

He caught on quickly, and they ended up laughing and bumping elbows as they took turns mashing up the butter until the dough looked just right.

“Alright, now we just need to chill it,” she said, brushing a bit of flour off her hands.

Lando nodded, but just as she turned around to put the dough in the fridge, he dipped his fingers in a bit of leftover flour and gently tapped her on the nose, leaving a small white smudge. Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him in mock disbelief.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Norris,” she said with a grin, scooping up a bit of flour in her hand.

He laughed, backing up with his hands held up in surrender. “Hey, hey, hey, I was just trying to add a bit of style here!”

She didn’t buy it, though, and before he knew it, a small handful of flour had hit his shoulder, leaving a dusting across his black T-shirt.

“Alright, that’s it!” he said, laughing as he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and wiping a bit of flour from his shoulder onto her apron.

They laughed, both now a bit flour-covered, until Y/N finally surrendered, her cheeks flushed with laughter as they pulled apart. “Truce?”

“Truce,” he said with a playful smile, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.

Once the dough was chilling, they moved on to the filling. Y/N showed him how to measure out the pumpkin puree, brown sugar, and spices, watching as he carefully followed her instructions. The sweet and spicy aroma filled the kitchen, giving everything that warm, cozy fall feeling.

“Alright, now mix it all together,” she instructed, handing him a whisk.

Lando took the whisk and started stirring, glancing up at her with a small grin. “You know, I think I might actually be getting good at this.”

“You’re a natural,” she teased, nudging him. “By the end of this, you’ll be teaching me.”

He grinned, and they continued working together, stirring and adding ingredients. Y/N noticed the way Lando’s eyes would light up with each step, how he’d sneak little glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking. It made her heart feel warm, and she couldn’t help but think how much fun she was having with him, even in the simple, messy process of making a pie.

Once the filling was done, they pulled the dough out of the fridge, and Y/N rolled it out into a circle, carefully placing it in the pie pan. Lando watched closely, leaning over her shoulder.

“That looks amazing,” he murmured, looking impressed.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him the pan of filling. “Pour it in, chef.”

He grinned, pouring the pumpkin filling into the crust as she watched, making sure he got every last bit. They then placed the pie in the oven, setting the timer and giving each other a high five to celebrate their teamwork.

As they waited for the pie to bake, they cleaned up the kitchen, still teasing each other about the flour fight and laughing over their mistakes along the way. When the timer finally went off, Y/N took the pie out of the oven, and they both stood back, admiring their work.

“It actually looks… delicious,” Lando said, clearly proud of himself. He leaned over to inhale the warm, spicy scent and grinned. “Who knew I had it in me?”

Y/N laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’m impressed. You make a pretty great baking partner.”

“Guess we’ll have to make this a fall tradition then,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist as they admired their creation.

Once the pie had cooled a bit, they sliced into it, each taking a piece to taste. Lando took a big bite, his eyes lighting up as he chewed.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, nodding in approval. “I mean, I knew we’d nail it.”

Y/N took a bite herself, savoring the sweet, spiced flavor and nodding in agreement. “We’re basically pros,” she joked, laughing when Lando gave her a look of mock seriousness.

“Next time, we’re tackling an apple pie,” he declared, his arm still around her as they finished their slices, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories and laughing over their flour-covered adventure, both feeling perfectly content in each other’s company. The kitchen was a mess, but the warmth of their laughter and the scent of pumpkin pie made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

⚠️please reblog and send suggestions⚠️

[phantomrose96]

Hi Chrissy - i know you do vegan meals so i wanted to share the BEST vegan brownie recipe i have ever come across. Im not even vegan but this is my go-to because they are just that good. (Also: in no way was this something i created, i just have a screenshot of it and have no clue about the original source).

Feel free to try if you'd like ❤️

INGREDIENTS:

2 cups flour (separated)

1 cup water

2 cups sugar (1 brown 1 white)

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3/4 cup cocoa powder

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 cup chocolate chips (optional but not really)

DIRECTIONS:

- preheat oven to 350F

- mix 1 cup flour and water over low heat, stir constantly until it starts to thicken to about honey consistency. Then allow to cool completely.

- mix sugar, salt, vanilla, cocoa powder and vegetable oil together, then mix in the cooled flour-water mixture.

- add the baking powder and remaining flour, and chocolate chips. (Mix the chocolate chips in some of the flour before adding it to have them incorporate better in the batter)

- grease your pan and cook for about 25mins at 350F

Anddd Enjoy!!

Oh I am listening

👀📝

[fanficsbyme-causeimgay]

Disclaimer: Image this in the Van Helsing werewolf design, please. I love that movie.

Imagine, if you will, the full moon.

Now— you were never superstitious or believed in the supernatural, but when it is running at you on all fours in the darkness of the street, with sharp white teeth and with a single red glowing eye? Then, you do believe in the supernatural. So you do the sensible thing: You forget about putting the trash out, closes the door, and says, "Nope!" Before simply locking all doors and windows.

You stay in your room, door locked and under the blankets, just to make sure nothing bad could get you— After all, monsters don't fuck with you if you got a blanket on, that's the rules! You ignore the weird whining sounds and the weird scratching sounds, and fear gives way to tiredness once the adrenaline fades away.

You wake up the next day, believing the whole thing to be a nightmare, a figment of your masochistic mind paying tricks on you.

Werewolves don't exist!

But neighbors do. And you got a new one!

The first time you met was just a tiny little bit surprising, but normal when context was given— His dog ran into your porch. He had this beautiful Black Labrador that had a harness that read [Service Dog] on it, and her collar had [Leyla] written on it. And she was looking for something? She was sniffing everything around. Apparently, she was a new dog and was still being trained, which explained a lot about her behavior.

"Oh, hi- I apologize for Leyla!" He was tall. Definitely taller than you. Maybe 6'6? The most striking thing about his appearance was the eyepatch on his left eye, a plain black one. He walked with a limp and had a darkish green jacket over a plain white shirt and tight shorts. "I'm your new neighbor, Kata." And oh, his voice was just like the best thing you've heard - It was beautiful.

You soon find out that he used to be in the military. He worked closely with the K-9 bomb-sniffing unit to help clean the fields, and sadly, a newly trained dog missed one of the bombs, which led to his incident. He seemed pretty open and sincere when speaking about his experience as a veteran, not shy to express and answer your questions even going further and above.

When asked why, he simply answered: "You just wanted to learn more about me, so I taught you more." With a smile that was, honestly, quite breath taking.

Regardless of your little interactions, nothing seemed to be going on - much to your dismay - because he was clearly very hot and showed interest in you. Maybe it was the "don't ask don't tell" thing that the military has? You felt silly thinking about it, mostly because he never showed clear interest, so you decided not to assume anything of it.

In truth, however, he was unhealthy obsessed with you. He was constantly spending hours of his day listening to your breathing, to your heartbeat, to your little noises that you weren't even aware you made! Did you know you have this habit of clicking your tongue when you're playing games and sometimes something you didn't want to happen happens? Did you know you hum the sound of commercial jingles sometimes? Did you know that when you're asleep, you're quite vocal about your dreams, even if what you're saying doesn't make any sense? Did you know you smell like soft petrichor mixed with tulips and brown sugar when you're relaxed? Did you know he likes to watch you sleep from the window? Did you know that sometimes he breaks into your room while you're asleep and just stands beside you? Did you know he can't control it?

It's in his very nature.

Like humans can't help but breathe, tell stories, eat, and lie - Werewolves can't help but obsess over their Mates. Their Soulmates. Their one and only. Their destined - Call it what you will, but he loves you in ways you can't ever hope to understand... He wants you so badly, you should be happy he isn't laying it thick on you, that he is controlling himself to not jump you and fuck you everywhere, that-

Oh.

The full moon is here.

It happened really easily. You were asleep when you heard a pretty clear and rough sound of snoring, alongside the heavy weight of an arm on you, a weird, smooth, and wet sensation on your neck, and the heat of a body hugging you from behind. You couldn't move your body. Was this sleep paralysis? You look down and see arms of black fur holding you tight, and although you're confused, your mind finds reason: This is just a dream.

Oh, a dream! Of course this is a dream.

You huff... This might not be the exact first time you've dreamed of a big werewolf man and probably won't be the last! What? They're hot!

What was hotter, however, was waking up with a naked man in your bed. It was a shock at first, mostly because you're pretty sure you didn't have Kata sleeping in your bed last night...? Right? Was the dream about the werewolf his brain making up something to summarize or excuse Kata's presence in his bed? Dreams do that sometimes... But hey, looking at that dick was more than enough to make you forget about his presence for a few moments - It was, uhm, quite big.

"My eyes are up here..." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and like his tone of voice, he was looking very smugly at you: "Well, eye. Singular." He chuckled at his own words, poiting at his lack of eye - In fact, an unnaturally dark hole was there, almost like darkness originated from it.

You ask him what he is doing in your bed. Naked as the day he was born - but much, much hotter (and legal!)

And that is when he drops the ball.

So... as it turns out, werewolves are real... And they soulmates, and you are Kata's soulmate... Although overwhelmed at first, curiosity overwhelms you because of the fucking implications. What else is real? Magic? Fairies? Wizards!? Do they go to walmart!? Also, do werewolves follow normal wolf biology - Can they smell really far, hear really well, and do they mate for life too? And, also, do they have knots? As a rather curious person, you asked them.

"Well... I can show you." He replied, taking your hand for a moment and hesitating: "I-if you want?" He was rather nervous - the truth is, although he seemed confident, he was quite nervous. A wolf needs to be strong for their Mate. What about him? He is crippled. He is weak. He isn't good enough...

"...show me." Although a bit oblivious to flirting, you wouldn't say no to this.

As it turns out, werewolves do, in fact, have knots. And they can knot even in human form!

[hitomisuzuya]

HIIIIII :333

Just wanted to say I'm in LOVE with your writing, and I've wanted to ask for a while not with some baking gone wrong fluff with Scara :3

HOPE YOU HAVE AN GREAT DAY SUZU‼️‼️

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluffy fluffy fluff❤️ Modern AU

This was fun to write 🥰 And thank you very much for your kind words. How we all liking Chenyu Vale?

Scaramouche couldn't say no to you, looking at you like you had two heads when you asked him to help you bake chocolate chip cookies.

Well, first he'd said disgusting. However, it was all over for him once you smiled, something that always made his heart skip a beat and said, "Aw, pretty please?"

"Pretty no." Didn't even have time to come out of his mouth.

He did caution you, however, to never trust him in the kitchen.

"Scara? Can you get the brown and white sugar down, and measure me 3/4 of a cup of each?" You asked, turning away from him to start preheating the oven.

Scaramouche grumbled about having to touch sugar in general, but relented. Now here is where you really should've thought about what he'd told you and what you'd just asked.

You really, really should've.

While the oven was preheating, you added the butter, the sugars, two eggs, a little bit of salt, the flour, the vanilla extract, the baking soda and the chocolate chips into a mixing bowl.

Scaramouche was a adamant that he mix everything for you. He said it was because you were using an electric mixer, and it would lessen the chances of you making a mess. But really,he hated the idea of sugar flinging out of the bowl and touching your pretty hands.

It was bad enough you were going to have to roll the balls of dough by hand.

Soon, the cookies were in the oven and the 25 minute baking time went by without a hitch. Now it was time to taste the cookies. You looked a bit nervous when you'd taken them out of the oven.

"Wanna try?" You asked once they had cooled. Scaramouche made an extra show of turning his nose up at the offer.

You shrugged, broke off a piece and put it in your mouth. You saw the widest, most shit eating smirk you'd ever seen tug the corners of Scaramouche's lips.

Right before you made a sour face.

"Blech, oh my god, what the?!" Your taste buds had just been assaulted by the over whelming taste of...

...salt.

"Scara! You..you.." Scaramouche laughed a little as you exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Measured salt instead of white sugar?" Scaramouche finished for you, holding out his hands in mock defense, "I told you, you shouldn't trust me in the kitchen," Rest assured he looked quite proud of himself.

He was perfect example of what a no shame face looked like.

Ohhhhh. It must've happened when you'd turned your back to him to preheat the oven.

You could only stare at him, open mouthed. But really, you should've anticipated this. He did tell you not to trust him in the kitchen.

Now it was his turn to make your heart skip a beat.

Scaramouche put an arm around you, bringing you closer to him. "Besides, this sweet," He tapped your lips with his index finger, "is the one I would rather taste," He leaned in and gave you a long kiss that stole the breath out of your lungs.

[merakiui]

11:11 — sugar dew sewn anew.

yandere!rook hunt x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, violence, murder/death of reader, description of blood/injuries, rook is rather morbid and creepy in this fic note - this fic is the result of a character fic poll, in which rook was the winner.

“You wear a very forlorn face when you paint, mon cher.”

You swivel on the stool, legs unfolding at the ankles, to properly peer past the easel at the man who sits in a gold-and-white satin chair, backdropped by various animal heads. They’re mounted with such care, each one organized according to where it lies on the food chain. They almost form a pyramid when you look at them from where you’re seated. From a dusky brown house mouse to a pitch-black crow, the heads range in species and size, all arranged on a vermillion wall. 

The biggest one, sitting in the very center of the display, right above your client’s head, is a chestnut-colored buck with a pair of magnificent antlers curling from its scalp. From where Rook sits, it almost looks like those horns are sprouting from his head. Contemplating the discrepancies between man and buck, you swirl your brush through a muddy cup of water and survey the rest of the aureate placards until you reach the top.

There’s a mount lacking a head. 

It was the first thing you took notice of after stepping through the halls of this quaint cabin to reach the sitting room. Although, after spending hours enclosed in cedarwood walls, it feels more like a trophy room—a place meant to showcase the spoils of every hunt rather than welcome people with disarming decorations. 

Rook crosses one leg over the other and, resting his elbows upon his knee, steeples his hands. You peer at the antlers, noting the valiant curvature, before meeting his verdant stare. A grin slowly sprawls on his lips once he realizes you’ve caught his gaze. 

“I concentrate on my source,” you explain with a shrug, still twirling the brush through the water. “Steady focus makes a steady hand…or something along those lines.”

“And yet you never smile, even when working so diligently to bring your masterpiece to completion.”

“If I viewed it as such, then I would have reason to smile.” Your contemptuous scowl slides to the canvas, where you’ve painted two dull green eyes set into a freckle-speckled face. The beginnings of a smile trace the portrait’s plush lips, withholding secrets no one will ever know. “I’ve yet to create a masterpiece. Therefore I can’t smile.”

“Oh, you’re much too critical of your art!” Unclasping his hands, Rook places one upon his chest, as if he must calm his heart after hearing your response. “I’ve studied your work, both through a screen and in person, and as your devout follower I can wholeheartedly say it is beautiful in every way, even down to the miniscule flaws other critics often spot with sharp, perceptive eyes!”

“You speak as if I lead a cult,” you admit with a sheepish chuckle. “I’m just painting the things I find interesting.”

“For a reason, I assume?”

“Usually it’s to find inspiration for what I hope will be my first masterpiece. I’d like to finally feel proud of my work.” The brush peruses the colorful selection on your palette, settling into the green you’ve mixed from yellow and blue. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. I just can’t find it in me to love what I produce.”

“But you enjoy creating, yes?”

“Of course. It’s what I’ve been doing for years. Painting allows me to understand the world and its inhabitants through my own lens.” You put brush to canvas in a series of small, significant strokes. “So when I’m painting… Well, I guess I just want to try to love the things I put on my canvases, even if it’s impossible.”

“Is that so? Then I’m beyond flattered you would ever consider using me as your most beloved muse!” He tilts his head, suddenly more animated than when he first sat down to pose for you, and adds, “I love you, too. Very much, my little artiste.”

“Are you just saying that so I’ll paint you handsomely?”

“Why, I would never say anything that would influence or persuade your process! Just as I love sweetly and solemnly, I also love monstrously and mercilessly. The primal facets of humankind are not exempt from my loving eyes. Even the most dirty and deceitful corners of this world—I love those just as fiercely. So should you choose to depict me as a fiend, I will adore your representation regardless of its harsh implications. After all, there’s beauty in tragedy.”

“And would that make life the greatest tragedy?” You hum as you add a sadistic glimmer to the eyes on the canvas. They pierce you with their unblinking stare, hollowing your soul until they reach unfathomable depths. “Or maybe it’s the ability to love with such a big heart?”

“Are you suggesting love is a tragedy? I suppose, in some sad sense, it is. Unrequited feelings, shattered hearts, lovers separated by way of death or divorce, and even the type of love that curdles like spoiled milk—oh, the misfortune! Each is a tragic tale spun from a mixture of melancholy or the intensity of hatred and all-consuming loneliness. But even so, no matter how horrendous it may seem, I hold each in my heart. They’re beautiful because they have the unique ability to shape a person into someone new—for better or for worse.” 

You lower your arm, hesitating while the excuses rise to the surface, before turning to look at him. “I’ve never known real love, Mr. Hunt, which is why I’m trying to capture it while I paint. I suspect I’ll be able to smile at my work because it will be something I’ve fallen in love with. Only then can I consider it a true masterpiece.”

“Your way of thinking is simply très bien!” He drums his fingers along his knee, humming his contemplation. “I’d love to unscrew your skull and poke through your brain. I wonder what memories have shriveled your ability to love…”

“It’s not that it’s shriveled. It’s just…” You shrug, losing your previous statement. “The words ‘I love you’ are just that—words. I have no use for meaningless sentiments. If I force myself to love, it feels wrong. I can like people and things, but loving them is too much. I can’t cross that line. If I did, I’d be a liar.” 

“Ah, so it’s like that…” Rook chuckles, but none of what you said was remotely humorous. His voice lowers to a whisper, ghostly and haunting, as if wrapping around your head and settling into the very folds of your brain. “I find it charming that you’re unable to love and I love too much. We possess many differences, and yet at the very center of it all we’re merely human beings composed of flesh and blood. It’s a beauty more stunning than the most radiant sunset!”

You pretend to have not heard him, resigning yourself to your work as you spend an absurd amount of time trying to illustrate the peculiar glaze in his eyes. They’re always so bright, but here you’ve painted them as soulless, viridescent sockets—a dark, dense forest having lost its vivid greenery with winter’s frost. But then there is not an ounce of ice within Rook’s eyes. They are always smoldering with many things: enthusiasm, intellect, new opinions just waiting to be shared regardless of whether or not you wish to hear them. It’s a genuine warmth, but something feels strange. Out of place. Much like the headless mount poised right above Rook to form the tip of the pyramid. 

Why is that mount lacking a head?

Without realizing it, you’ve abandoned your task with fixing his eyes to start on the antlers poking from a head of canary-hued hair. 

“You live up to your surname, sir.”

“Please, you’re much too formal with your fan. You need only call me Rook, should it suit your fancy.” He giggles when you pin him with a dubious glare. “Is it so wrong to label myself as such? I go to great lengths out of admiration and support of your work. Wouldn’t that, by definition, make me your fan?”

“I’m not very famous.”

“In my eyes, you are the famed sun and I am merely the moon who hopelessly pursues.” 

“Really? Well, I wasn’t aware I had an eloquent hunter for a fan.”

“Do you find my hobby eccentric?”

“No. It’s normal to enjoy all sorts of pastimes. Hunting is as much of a hobby as it is a sustainable sport. In older times, most people would hunt for the sake of survival.”

Rook nods, his gaze flicking towards the heads on the wall. You dip your brush in brown paint to add more color to the antlers. “It takes immaculate patience to be a hunter. Most hunts are not always successful.”

“Is there a reason you hunt?”

“It’s in a human’s nature to obtain the unobtainable, and I seek beauty in its most visceral forms.”

“I see…”

“Do you?” Rook crosses his legs again, but this time his posture is stiffly statuesque. “Is obsession not the most flattering form of dedication?”

“It’s not exactly how I’d go about defining dedication… But then I suppose everyone has their reasons.” You steal a peek at the headless mount. “Do these heads mean anything to you?”

“Why, of course! They are the beautiful animals I have pierced with my arrow, whether or not I intended to. Often, when you trek through the territory of beasts, you might need to release a mortally wounded animal from its suffering.”

“So a mercy kill.” Your eyes return to the painting, where you set to work adding tiny blossoms along the curved antlers. “Doesn’t that upset you?”

“So goes the cycle of life, I’m afraid. I would be a daring fool to interfere with the balance of the world.”

“Have you ever lost any of your hunts?”

Rook hums, tapping out a rhythm against the top of his hand. The pads of his fingers fall in rapid succession: tick, tick, tick, tick. “As a matter of fact, I have! Just last week, after your departure, I lost the mouse I’ve been trying to catch for years now.”

“Years? Shouldn’t you give up?”

“Not until I feel that mouse’s heart beat within my enclosed fist.” He smiles wide, flashing flawless rows of pearly whites. Under the dim lighting, they appear sharp and predatory. “I suspect I’ll get lucky tonight.”

“How can you be sure? Mice are difficult to catch with bare hands. You’ll need a trap.”

“Mon cher, you wound me! I would never make such an amateur error.” He chuckles to himself, relishing in the cruelty of a joke that doesn’t quite land. “When I set my sights on something, it’s a guarantee I will catch it, even if I must play a dreadful waiting game.”

“My apologies. I was only passing on a helpful tip.”

You pull away from the canvas to inspect the strands of white dahlias curled around the man’s antlers. Frowning, you raise your arm, intending to slash through the portrait with a streak of black paint, when it occurs to you that you need only add red. 

But before carmine, you return to nature reflected in wide greens.

“Has my dear artiste ever hunted before?”

“No, not really. I seek inspiration all the time, but I wouldn’t call that a hunt.”

“Oh? Please elaborate.”

“There are stakes in a hunt. Life and death. Danger. A battle of wits between predator and prey. Looking for inspiration is just a matter of searching and exploring. It might lead some down scary paths, but for me it’s a matter of reading more books or taking a stroll through the town. I don’t like dangerous things, so I tend to avoid them.”

“It pays to be cautious, no?”

“Right. Shouldn’t you be the same, Rook? As a hunter, don’t you worry about what might happen if you aren’t careful?”

“Of course there are worries! That comes with every profession and hobby.” He gestures to the plastic tarps plastered to the floor and walls. “You worried you’d sully my floors, and to ease such a fear I put these protective plastics up. My worries for hunting may be different, but they are worries all the same.”

“I guess that’s true… Well, what do you worry about?”

“Whether I’ll be fast enough to catch my prey when they’re unarmed and unaware.”

“O-Oh… That’s a little…”

Rook laughs a guttural laugh—a sound that comes right from the depths of his chest. “Imagine something you’ve always wanted. Picture it slipping through your fingers, just out of your reach, and now you’ve lost the chance to seize it. Is that not worth a worry or two?”

“I can’t say. I’ve never tried to chase after things I knew I wouldn’t be able to have.”

“Mon cher, you must learn to take risks. How else will you live?”

“I live perfectly fine without the need to step out of my comfort zone.”

Rook hums. “I think you’d change your tune if you found yourself in a risky situation.”

“Define risky.”

“Life and death.”

You pause, your brush poised at the pupil in his eye. “Everyone wants to survive. It’s in our nature as animals. A very basic instinct.” 

“And despite our most dedicated efforts to stall the inevitable, death catches us all—some sooner than most.”

“This is getting kinda…morbid.” 

“Haven’t you wondered,” he asks, and you don’t hear the wood creak under approaching feet, “what someone might do if they found your corpse?” 

He’s behind you. Five steps away in this cubic space. The man with antlers has crawled out of the canvas that once confined him, and he’s behind you. 

The mount on the wall lacks a head. 

The man in the chair lacks antlers. 

The creature in the portrait lacks humanity.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a voice recorder tucked away beneath the chair. 

You swallow thickly, your heart in your throat. “I… I’m not sure. I’d hope they’d give me a proper, respectful burial if I died of natural causes.” 

And if it wasn’t natural causes? 

You don’t hear him verbalize the question, but somehow you catch it amidst the smothering silence.

“If it wasn’t natural causes…” You force a laugh, but it’s flat and misplaced just like the headless mount. “That would be murder, right?”

His shadow looms behind you, cast ominously dark over the earthly colored canvas. Slowly, so slowly, your free hand lowers to the pocket in your artist’s apron, where a dozen palette knives rest. Trembling fingers peruse the selection, locating the one with the sharpest point, and it’s the heaviest burden you’ve ever secured in your fist. You remain sitting horribly still on the stool, listening only to the frantic, slick sound of blood rushing in your ears. 

Steeling your frayed nerves, you whirl just as he descends. 

There’s a pause, a stumbled heartbeat, and then raw fear coagulates into confusion when you find him sitting primly in his chair, his verdant stare striking through you as if it’s an arrow he’s just loosed. It hits its mark, for it leaves you pinned in perplexity. 

He was behind me.

“And… And what about you?” you ask, your tongue heavy and thick in your mouth. “If someone… If I found your corpse, what would you want me to do with it?”

He was behind me. I’m sure of it.

“That wouldn’t happen.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile, and he angles his head curiously. “Normally it’s the other way around.”

You see it, then. The silver glint of a sharpened meat cleaver. It lies in his lap, where his fingers curl around the wooden handle, and all while holding eye contact he continues to smile. His teeth are refined cutlery in the light: artfully honed, yet not quite serrated, they’re tough enough to bite and tear and chew. Like a deer trapped in the hauntingly hypnotic glow of oncoming headlights, you don’t dare move. Perspiration wets your brow, slides down your back between your shoulder blades. You lick your lips. Anticipation claws through your intestines, nestling in the very pit of your stomach. Bile creeps its way up your throat like acidic fingers.

What’s happening?

“Come now, ma souris, don’t give me such a sullen face! I’ve shown you my hand. Isn’t that a miracle more beautiful than life itself?”

Your hold on the little palette knife tightens. “One person’s going to leave this room,” you say, your eyes sliding to the recording device, “and it’s not going to be me. Isn’t that right, Rook?”

“I can’t possibly say,” he affirms, dulcet and smooth like rivers of blood running ruby-red from a broken nose. His finger drums a rhythm against the flat side of the cleaver. “But I can certainly guess.”

Carefully, you rise from the stool. His eyes track you, so full of the vitality of the color green. More than that, they’re bright with bloodlust and you’ve been caught in the crosshairs of his cutting gaze. He peers at your unfinished painting and chuckles.

“Even your interpretation of me is beautiful! It’s an honor to be your fan, ma souris. Truly, I’m quite happy.”

You brandish the palette knife as if that will do anything to protect you from him. He stands from his seat, a monster adorned in gloomy garb. Like a stain against the red wall of heads, he no longer fits into the picture you once thought he did. Rather, he is blight in human form, a sinister omen housed within a skeleton encased in friendly skin. 

And he’s walking right towards you, putting one foot in front of the other, in no hurry to rush. The cleaver taps against his hip as he approaches, each bump mirroring every one of your heartbeats with startling accuracy. 

“Are… Are you unhappy with my portrayal?” you ask, not particularly interested in his reply, but desperate to keep him talking at arm’s length. 

For every step he takes, you take two backwards. 

“Not at all! In fact, I’m flattered.” Rook narrows his eyes at you, sickly entertained. “You’ve made prey out of a predator. Not many are capable of such a generous feat.” 

Your back connects with the door. Swallowing thickly, you search for the door knob. “Do you really see yourself as one? You don’t have to be one. Y-You can be neither. You’re only human.”

“Ah, but humans are the worst kind of predator.”

“What makes you say that?” Your fingers wrap around the metal door knob.

“Humans are afforded choices. We think through decisions. We make merry with our enemies and then hurt them after they’ve properly settled. We are complex in a way that differs from other animals. Predators are bound by survival, always trapped in high-stakes life or death, unable to truly make a decision that ventures beyond whether they wish to live another day or become sustenance for those who sit a rung above on the food chain. You see, we are not simple predators.” He raises the cleaver and points it at you. “As for humans, we can decide if we want to feel something when we hurt and kill. We can communicate in languages simple predators can’t use. Oh, the beauty of words!” He chuckles, elated. “To pluck a phrase from my vast lexicon: I’m going to take your life for myself, ma souris. Stow it within the depths of my very soul so that I may be the only one to treasure your rarity.”

The confession guts you quicker than his knife ever could. 

Wrenching the door open, you turn on your heel and step through, ready to break into a sprint, when heavy footfalls make their way towards you from behind. He covers the meager distance in seconds, wrapping a muscled arm around your torso and yanking you back into the room. You scream, words and sounds mixing into something incoherent, and elbow him in the ribs with as much force as you can muster. He releases you and you, fueled with panic and adrenaline, drop to your knees just as he swings, your hand closing around the palette knife you had previously lost. 

Somehow you manage to get back on your feet when he descends again, this time intentionally missing your shoulder when he brings the cleaver down. It cuts through the sliver of space between empty air and your own body, narrowly missing you by a hair. You throw yourself against the wall, entangled in a plastic tarp that comes loose from its hooks. They fall around you in noisy pitter-patters, something akin to metallic rainfall, and you hit the floor with a harsh thump.

And all the while, the mounts continue to peer at you with glass eyes.

“There’s no need to fall over yourself in a frantic haste. You’ll waste all of your energy, and even then adrenaline won’t be enough to fuel you. I’ll catch you if you aren’t careful…” He smiles at you from where he stands, green eyes cold with calculation. “Let’s take a moment to chat, shall we? I’d like to regale you with the five stages of the delightful thing known as prey drive. You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?”

“No, of course not,” you spit, vitriol lacing every syllable. Your pupils flit about the room, tracing the cleaver in his hand and then flickering towards the chair. The recording device sits in shadow, just within your reach. If you can stand up, take two steps forward, and drop down when he moves to intercept, you might be able to retrieve it. “Enlighten me since you seem so eager to run your mouth.”

Rook chuckles and enunciates his every step with a whistle. He reaches the chair in three steps and kicks the recording device out from under it. You watch it skid across the floor towards you, settling mere inches from your feet. You glance at it; it’s still recording, seconds stapled into it with every tick of your heart.

“A dog searches.” His back is turned to you, and he gazes at the mounts on the wall. You lower just enough to swipe the device from the ground. It’s not heavy in your palm; rather, it’s palm-sized and it slips into your pocket like a silent knife through butter. “And when it finds, it stalks. Have you caught the pattern yet?”

His neck is right there. All you need to do is rush up to him, grab him from behind, and drive the palette knife so far into the side of his neck that it’ll surely cause some sort of distress. Or you could turn and run. You have evidence. You have his address. You have your car. You can escape. You can drive far away from this horrifying cabin in the woods and never return. You can live. 

You can run.

“And from there…” 

So you do.

He whirls just as you dart through the door, over the threshold into the hall, and you miss the crazed twinkle reflected in wild, untamed green eyes. Rook’s laughter follows you, airy and light like a comforting breeze. He’s alive with murderous delight, and you’re nearly dead with fright. 

“Ensues the chase!” he calls out, so close in the cramped confines of the hall that his voice nearly grazes you. 

You swallow your sobs, pressing onwards with hardened resolve, and follow the length of the hall until it spits you out into another room. It’s undeniably a kitchen, what with the refrigerator and microwave pushed into a corner, but it’s furnished more like a lab. Nearly every appliance is metallic and the floors are tiled, constructed with surfaces that are perfect for washing away pesky fluids. A drain is built into the very center of the floor, sticking out like the nastiest bruise. You spy meat hooks hanging in place of where spatulas and whisks ought to be—both of which are innocent culinary tools meant to assist in food preparation rather than something killer. 

Spinning on your feet, you locate the door opposite of where you stand in the small kitchen-lab and take a momentous step towards it, hoping it leads you closer to an exit and further from your hunter, when a cold hand seizes your wrist, spidery digits curling into your skin. A shrill scream rips from the depths of your throat, surely shredding your vocal chords into bloody ribbons. You struggle, yanking your arm in vain, for his hold is impossibly strong. He tugs you towards him, his feet moving in time with the shuffling of yours. It’s a stiff stalemate of a waltz. You pull away and he pursues, his hand creeping up your arm in an attempt to pin it to the nearest surface. With another helpless shriek, you tear yourself free, staggering backwards against the metal table, which rolls further away on well-oiled wheels. Your horrified reflection blinks back at you in the shine, and with a sunken heart you realize it’s a dissection table. 

“Mon cher, I must say, you wear disarray so naturally. It’s far too forbidden for my simple eyes to behold.” 

“Why… Why are you doing this?” Your voice is thick with terror, sore from screaming, and you wipe furiously at your glossy eyes. “Please stop… You’ve had your fun. Now… Now let me go. I… I promise I won’t come back here again. Y-You can keep all of the supplies and the canvas. Just let me go…”

A secretive smile stretches slowly across his lips. “Oh, how Fortuna graces me with the benevolent opportunity to admire these special sides of yours. To be able to witness the rawness of pure horror after cornering the most dangerous animal of all…” He pricks his finger on the tip of the blade and adds in a breathy whisper, “Beauté.”

A disgusted shiver claws its way up your spine. You glare at him. “So it’s the thrill you enjoy, yeah? It doesn’t faze you that you’re going to kill an innocent person?!” 

He tilts his head. “Rather than snuffing your light, I intend to give new life to your excellence. In many ways, aren’t I also an artist?” 

“Like hell! You’re crazy!” You take a step back when he advances, moving towards you like a graceful panther stalking its prey. Your grip on the palette knife tightens. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this?” 

“Nothing, mon amour.”

“N-Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing!” he reaffirms, rather conversationally, and the frustration-riddled tension in your body deflates all at once. 

“But… But I thought—” You shake your head, hopelessly searching for a means of convincing him otherwise in his pursuit, and say, “I thought you… You said you loved me! Can you really hurt someone you love?”

Rook hesitates, his feet shuffling to a halt, and he peers blankly at you, all emotions veiled in a stoic mask. “While it’s true that I will always cherish you in life, I must also come to love you in death. If I’m unable to accept even the rotting and decaying sides of everlasting love that most shy away from, then I’m simply undeserving of my title as a hunter. If I seek the wonders of life, it’s only fair I seek the wonders of death all the same. You understand, don’t you?”

“No! In what world would I ever understand that logic?!” You point the palette knife at him. “You don’t have to kill me. You really don’t have to…”

“I suppose, if I’m to apologize for anything, I should ask that you forgive my greedy behavior. I’m hopelessly infatuated with your work, so allow me to thank you for all that you have shown me tonight. I promise to repay your tenderness tenfold.”

He smiles, stepping aside to allow you passage through the door, and foolishly you take the bait. It’s a run through tar—something you’d only ever experience in a dream, in which outrunning a villain is an impossible task. You make it through the door and out into the hall, and from there your only goal is to mindlessly flee towards safety. Tears obscure your vision, clinging to your lashes like fragile sugar dew. 

You think you see the outline of a faraway door, but perhaps it’s just the illusion brought on by mournful tears. 

You think you’ll make it to freedom, but perhaps it’s just the animalistic desire to survive that ignites your nerves. 

You think you can escape the horrors of encroaching affection, but it slips into your hand, tight and reassuring. 

Tugged into the kitchen-lab, your back collides with Rook’s chest. His grip is bone-crushing, and you don’t hear anything he’s saying—is he humming or waxing poetry?—but you feel the warmth of spreading blood as it soaks through your shirt and stains your artist’s apron. The palette knife slips from your grasp, landing on the floor with a noisy clatter. You peer down at your abdomen, where the cleaver is snugly nestled in your stomach. 

The cleaver. 

It’s in your stomach. 

He’s stabbed you. 

The cleaver. 

It’s in your stomach. 

It doesn’t hurt. Not at first. The shock snuffs the agony. He twists it gingerly, once or twice, before he yanks it out. Sticky strings of torn flesh and blood cling to the blade, connecting it to the injury he’s inflicted. Then you feel the rush of torturous, agonizing pain, and it stings more than anything you've ever experienced before. Red-hot, thick trails of blood trickle through your fingers when you shakily place your hand upon the wound, hoping to stop the flow. Rook clicks his tongue and guides you towards the dissection table, your feet dragging bonelessly upon the floor as you’re led along. You try to fight him, but everything’s so painful, and so all you can manage is a slight shake of the shoulders. Your world spins, and your mind reels as it struggles to process the dangerous gash. 

“After the chase,” he says, lowering you onto the table despite your blubbery protests, “the dog grabs its prey in a sharp-toothed bite and then it kills.” 

“S-Stop… You…” Your fingers curl into shredded skin, and you press down with as much strength as your shuddering body can muster. Blood continues to seep through the cracks between your fingers. “You… You’ll kill me…”

“Well, that’s the point, no?” Rook pets your cheek, fondness glittering in his green eyes. 

You peer up at him through bleary eyes, reaching for his face with a trembling hand. “Please… I’m begging you… It h-hurts… Please…” A helpless sob wracks through your frail form. “Please, Rook…”

For a while—whether an eternity or merely a few seconds, it’s hard to discern—he watches you fade in and out of consciousness, your groans a haunting melody in the discomforting quiet. Eventually, his hand finds yours on the table, limp and twitching, and envelops it in a firm hold.

Blissfully ignorant to your wheezing gasps, he begins to murmur: “‘Out—out are the lights—out all. And, over each quivering form, the curtain, a funeral pall, comes down with the rush of a storm. While the angels, all pallid and wan, uprising, unveiling, affirm that the play is the tragedy, ‘Man.’” He looms over you like a ghastly shadow, lips arranged in a gleeful grin. “‘And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.’”

The time is 11:11 at night when you finally fall into Death’s frigid embrace, never to wake again. 

11:11 - the mystical time at which the universe tugs celestial cotton from its ears and listens to wishes and woes alike. it is not a promise that all wishes will be granted and all woes will be soothed at this hour.

The time is 11:11 in the morning, and sweet, twittering birdsong flutters into the trophy room through a window left ajar. 

The sun has long since risen, casting radiant beams through the thinning slices between the trees. Rook Hunt hums as he works, deft fingers perusing various cosmetics arranged on a metal tray. Eyeshadow is applied to delicate, paper-thin eyelids, each one pinned open in the permanence of preservation. Glass marbles are set into hollow sockets, colored in memory of the eyes that were once attached to a brain via optic nerves. He matches foundation to the skin tone, which works well to hide meticulous stitching and mottled flesh. He’s humming in tune with the birds, the nearby rushing stream, and the swaying foliage caught up in a wind gust, relishing in nature’s symphony. 

“You claimed you’d finally smile after you’ve learned to love,” Rook observes, petting the top of the head, feeling human hair beneath his rough, calloused palm. “And now you beam brighter than the sun outside! Perhaps it’s because of me? You’ve always been so honest with your heart. It’s a facet I most adore.”

His gaze slides towards the unfinished painting propped against the wall, where an antlered man smiles at his viewer, his green eyes filled with a mysterious forest. 

“Have you always thought me to be prey?” Rook pauses, awaiting an answer, and snatches a lipstick from the selection. “Or maybe this is an artist’s ideal vision… Perhaps it’s a fantasy you’ve wished to see or a place you’ve always wanted to visit. Escapism is most magnificent when it’s comforting.” He opens the lipstick and surveys the color with his observant greens. He inhales deeply and catches notes of the cedarwood cabin walls and the floral perfume he spritzed on his dear artiste. “Though it may not be your masterpiece, it’s one that will forever fascinate.”

Red blooms on dry lips that can no longer scream or protest. He cups a cheek stuffed with the finest wood wool, palming an area that was once bruised and broken. The grisly mark has been painted over, and now it is out of sight and, as far as the hunter is concerned, out of mind. As the saying goes, before one can broach beauty, one must suffer some degree of destruction. 

Rook steps down from the ladder and sets the tray of cosmetics on the gold-and-white satin chair. He lifts his hands, fingers forming the borders of a rectangle to frame you in his own portrait. At long last, the headless mount has its head and the pyramid of trophies is complete. There’s a crooked smile sewn into features expertly stitched to finalize beguiling taxidermy. 

With a covert grin, Rook peers through his fingers at your head situated at the very tip of a tragic triangle.

“After all, prey are the prettiest when they’re dyed scarlet.”

[feyburner]

im the sponge cake/baking amateur anon and omg thank you so much for your words and recipes!!! i will definitely start making little things and try not to freak out and instead embrace this new hobby with all its fluctuations…i will definitely keep coming back here for questions and recipes if you don’t mind 🫡🫡🫡

Of course, anytime. Don’t worry, just start with the basics and build from there. It gets easier and more intuitive every time you do it—and there are SO many types of things you can bake, you’ll never get bored. Don’t like baking cookies? Pivot to cake, pastry, pies, bread. Think about what flavors you like and find recipes that highlight those flavors.

Oh a couple more pieces of advice:

1. ALWAYS read through the ENTIRE recipe at least 2x before starting.

2. Mise en place! Gather all the ingredients together before you begin—so you don’t get halfway through only to realize you’re out of baking powder.

Here’s my recipe for Chocolate Velvet Cake. It’s a deep, dark, rich chocolate cake. Pictured here with Whipped Cream Cream Cheese Frosting, one of the only frostings I have ever liked.

CHOCOLATE VELVET CAKE

makes 2 x 8-9” cake layers

INGREDIENTS

2 cups (240g) AP flour

1 cup (200g) white sugar

1 cup (200g) dark brown sugar, packed

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp kosher salt

1 cup (227g) buttermilk* or sour cream

1 Tbsp white vinegar

1 cup (200g) neutral oil

2 eggs

1 Tbsp vanilla

1 cup (240g) freshly brewed steaming hot coffee (or 1 cup boiling water + 1 Tbsp instant coffee/espresso powder)

3/4 cup (60g) Dutch-process cocoa powder

*To make buttermilk: 1 cup milk + 1 Tbsp white vinegar or lemon juice. Stir together and let sit 10 min to curdle and thicken.

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Grease 2 x 8-9” cake pans and line with parchment paper rounds.

2. Bloom cocoa: Measure cocoa into a large liquid measuring cup (for easy pouring later). Add 1 cup (pre-measured or by weight) hot coffee in increments, whisking in between, until mixture is smooth. **If you add coffee all at once you’ll get lumps. Add a little, whisk to a smooth paste, then add rest.

3. Mix dry ingredients: Sift flour, sugars, baking soda, baking powder, and salt into a large bowl (or bowl of stand mixer). Whisk thoroughly to combine. **Sifting really matters here. The final batter is very thin and if you don’t sift you will get lumps of flour.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk together buttermilk, vinegar, oil, eggs, and vanilla until smooth. While whisking, pour in coffee-cocoa mixture. Whisk until smooth.

5. Pour wet ingredients into dry and mix with a rubber spatula until just combined, scraping bottom and sides of bowl as needed to catch any dry pockets. Do not overmix. Batter will be thin.

6. Divide batter evenly between cake pans. Bake 30-40 minutes until a paring knife inserted in the center comes out moist but clean. Start checking at 30 minutes to avoid overbaking.

7. Cool in pans 15 minutes (no longer), then turn onto a wire rack to finish cooling. Let cool completely (1-2 hours) before frosting.

NOTES

- Cocoa: Dutch-process cocoa powder = the ultimate dark-as-night chocolate cake, but natural (regular) cocoa powder works just as well.

- Usually you can sub greek yogurt for buttermilk/sour cream, but not here. It doesn’t have enough fat.

- Buttermilk/sour cream + a little added vinegar react with the baking soda and cocoa powder to make a fluffy but velvety soft crumb. (Think baking soda volcano, but cake.) You cannot taste the vinegar at all.

[m4ttsturn]

my brother's best friend (part 4)

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

pairing: Matt Sturniolo x reader

summary: you find yourself falling for your brother's best friend

warnings: use of y/n, fem arousal, kissing, swearing (let me know if I need any others)

(not proofread)

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

as soon as we get home I decide to take a shower, wanting to rid myself of the rest of the sand that's stuck all over my body. I turn the water on, letting it warm up as I undress myself and brush out my hair. I step under the shower head, the almost scorching water relieving my muscles. I pour shampoo into my hand and start massaging it into my hair.

my mind begins to wander, depictions of Matt appearing. my face flushes. i attempt to rid myself if the thoughts, but nothing is working. I think about how Matt's body felt pressed against me when I jumped on him. I imagine what it would feel like to press his lips against my own; what it would feel like to have his hands running down my body. a familiar feeling stems in the pit of my stomach and my heart rate begins to fluctuate.

a knock on the door snaps me out of the trance. Nate's voice filling my ears "hey y/n, we're going to an escape room. you wanna come?" "uh, no thanks" I respond, doing my best to make sure my voice isn't shaky. "okay well call me if you need anything" "I will, have fun"

once I hear Nate's footsteps receding from the door I let out a breath. I finish up the rest of my shower quickly, embarrassed by the whole situation. I get out and dry myself off with a towel before putting on a clean pair of clothes, doing my best to ignore the demanding ache between my legs.

I walk out of the bathroom and into the living room. the sight of Matt on the couch only making the ache more intense. "oh hey, I thought you went with Nate?" I speak, clearly confused. "didn't really feel like it, I'm a little tired from the beach and the one they're going to is going to take forever" I hum in response, taking a seat on opposite end of the couch.

After about 30 minutes of just scrolling on my phone I let out a huff, which draws Matt's attention to me. "what's up?" "nothing, I'm just bored" I reply. "honestly, me too. you want to do anything?" the thoughts from the shower flood my brain which causes my cheeks to heat up. "uhh we could make cookies or something" he seems to think for a moment before nodding and getting up from the couch.

Matt walks into the kitchen and I follow after him. I watch as he pulls out a box of premade cookie dough from the fridge. "oh no no, we're making them from scratch" I tell him "fine, but if they come out bad it's not my fault" he says as he puts the cookie dough back in the fridge. I smile at him before turning to the cupboard and pulling out the ingredients.

I set them out on the counter and heading over to grab the mixing bowls from the cabinet. I sigh as I realize that Nate put them on the top shelf. I step on my tippy toes, but I still can't grab them. suddenly Matt presses his front to my back, reaching above me to grab the bowls. I turn to him and mumble a quick thank you, moving away from him and setting the bowls on the counter before he can see my cheeks heat up.

I preheat the oven to 350 degrees and walk over to Matt, who is now standing in front of the counter waiting for something to do. I put a cup of butter into one of the mixing bowls and place it on the counter in front of Matt, along with the beater. "Okay so I need you to beat this until it turns an off-white color." Matt nods in acknowledgment and begins to beat the butter. While he's beating the butter I sift and measure out flour before placing it into a separate bowl, mixing in some baking soda.

"I'm finished with the butter, now what?" I walk over and check the butter "nice job, looks good" I praise him, which causes a smile to form on his lips. I then pour white and brown sugar into his bowl, "mix this in with the butter until it's fluffy." he immediately turns back to the bowl and begins to incorporate the sugar into the butter. I watch as his muscles flex while he stirs. He turns off the beater once he's done, drawing my attention.

I then crack an egg into his bowl and add some vanilla extract. he begins working on mixing in the new ingredients. now that everything in the bowl is now thoroughly combined I add in the four mixture. He turns to me, once again, as he finishes. I then pour the chocolate chips into the dough and knead them in. I move the bowl over to where I set up a pan with parchment paper, using a cooking scoop to put them onto the tray. Once I'm done I slide the pan into the oven.

"okay now all we have to do is wait 12 minutes" I smile happily, he smiles as well. I begin to clean up the flour before deciding to throw some at Matt, laughing. He gasps and chuckles a little before grabbing a handful himself. I shriek before running away from him, still laughing. He chases after me and we run all across the house, trailing flour everywhere. I stop abruptly to catch my breath, this causes Matt to slam into me. I fall and Matt lands on top of me.

both of us laugh since flour is now all over both of us. Matt seems to notice our closeness first, stopping his laughter. my heart skips a beat as he stares into my eyes. my eyes flicker down to his lips before I speak "Matt-" my sentence is cut of as I feel his lips on mine. the feeling was absolutely intoxicating. one of my hands travel up to his hair as I kiss him back, butterflies bursting in my stomach.

Matt bites down gently on my bottom lip and I can't stop myself from moaning. he presses his tongue into my mouth. I pull him closer to me as he wraps his hand around my waist, our tongues now fighting for dominance. I trail my other hand under his shirt, causing him to let out a moan.

the oven timer dings, bringing us back to reality. Matt pulls away quickly and I whine at the sudden loss of contact. he gets off of me and pulls down his shirt, walking away. I follow after him. I see him walking into the kitchen, he pulls the cookies out of the oven before slamming it closed and putting his hands on his head. "Matt?" he shakes his head at me " we shouldn't have done that" "why? was it that bad?" I look up at him, my eyes full of sorrow. he looks me in my eyes and I can see many different emotions flash across his face. "no no, I didn't mean it like that, fuck, y/n you're Nate's little sister, we can't be doing this."

"he doesn't have to find out, I won't say anything" I say undoubtedly. he shakes his head, "I can't do that to Nate." I nod, unhappy with his response but understanding it. we both start to clean up the flour mess. not saying another word to each other for the rest of the night.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

a/n: sorry this part took so long to get out, I've been studying for exams. anyway do you guys like the the colors with the dialogue or should I switch it back to just white?

[viiiiiiiiiin]

Hiiiiii viiiiiiiiin!!!!!!!! Hope your doing just lovely💗💗💗💗❤❤❤❤❤❤. Last fic you wrote for me was so good thank you again your the best.!!!!😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😭😭💋💋💋💋 I was again wondering if I could please request the same type of reader(fem pls) from last time x red hair pirates again but in a different scenario it could anything from fluff/cute or angst just anything.

Thank you so much 💋💋💋😭😭🥺🥺. Have a super duder amazing day!!!!!❤💗❤❤💗❤���

~🍮 anon~

Red Haired Pirates x Fem ! Sweet / Naive Reader

Includes: Red Haired Pirates and Female Reader

A / N: Hey Puddin !! I'm glad you're requesting from me again !! I'm always happy to write for the red haired sillies LOL. I hope you have an amazing day as well <33 Also , you can call me Vin or Vix ! Sorry that this is a lot shorter than normal !! I hope you still enjoy <3

It was another casual day on the Red Force. Everyone was either chilling or playing games. You were in the kitchen , swaying your hips to a song you were whistling. You had found another recipe that you wanted to try out. It happened to be a chocolate mousse cake with a smooth exterior.

You hummed some sea shanties as you sprinkled unflavored gelatin powder over a small dish filled with water. While waiting for the gelatin to become gelatinous and clear , you heated a pot of heavy cream just until it started steaming. When the gelatin 'bloomed' , you whisked it into the heavy cream.

While you were whisking , the door to the kitchen was pushed ajar. You didn't bother to look over since you knew they weren't gonna bother you. You checked the mixer to see if the cream came out as stiff peaks , which it did. You smiled while you whipped egg whites along with cream of tartar and sugar to create a fluffy meringue.

From behind you , you heard a gruff voice speak to you. "Are you making some kind of fluffy cake ?" It was the captain of the ship himself , Red Haired Shanks. The two mixes you made were individually folded into the bowl of chocolate you set aside a bit ago. To fold , you used a rubber spatula to gently run it around the mousse and through.

"I'm making a Chocolate Mousse cake !" You responded cheerily. You continued folding the batter around until it was the perfect consistency. You poured it into the cake platter and pushed it into the already preheated oven. You turned to your captain and brought the rubber spatula to his lips. "Here , try it ! It's a new recipe that I wanted to try out." As your words slipped past your lips , his tongue trailed along the utensil.

"Sweetheart , this is delicious !" He laughed heartily and took the spatula from your hand to finish it. "Thank you , Shanks !" His laugh was contagious. Because of that fact , it caused you to laugh along with him.

"Lucky wanted to know if ya needed any help in here , but it don't seem like you need any lil missy." He patted your head , ruffling your (color) locks. Your smile widened as you pulled him into a hug.

"Oh ! When you're done , Beck says he has a surprise for ya." Shanks spoke smoothly , placing his arm around your smaller waist. "Ooh ! I have the timer going , so can I come now ?!" You asked , stars lighting up in your doe like eyes.

"Of course !" He pulled away from your embrace and gently pushed you towards the door. "Hey , Beck ! Lil Missy wants to see her surprise !" Shanks shouted from across the deck to his first mate.

"I'm right here , Shanks. There's no need to shout for me." Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The gray haired man stepped out of the shadows and stood next to you and the captain. Shanks' brown eyes met with Benn's black ones. The one armed man chuckled and stumbled away from you as Benn walked towards you. He handed you a small , black bag.

"Here. We feel bad that we ruined one of your other bathing suits , so we pitched in and got you some new ones. Along with that perfume that you said you liked. Yasopp also got you a necklace with your name engraved on it." As he said that , he showed you the red heart pendant that said 'Sweetheart of the Red Haired Pirates' on the back.

As you read it , you huffed. "Sweetheart of the Red Haired Pirates ??" Cue some laughs erupting from the crew who now surrounded the two of you. Despite your initial embarrassment from the necklace , you looked back at them with tears filling your eyes.

The crew started panicking. You heard variations of 'we didn't mean to hurt you' and stuff like that. You laughed and held the bag close to your chest. "Thank you , everyone. I appreciate it." Your smile could replace the sun , according to them. It was so bright and so sweet that it made them question how you were even a wanted criminal in the first place.

Benn patted your back gently and gave you a soft smile. "Glad you like it , doll." Your face burned a bit , but you just smiled kindly at him. "Why don't we have a party for our little missy ?!" You heard your captain yell. You turned your (color) eyes towards his direction and noticed him slamming down bottles of alcohol. The crew cheered and basically all yelled 'hell yeah !'

---

Though the party raged on , you had to retreat to the kitchen to check on your dish. You combined the layers together and waited for it to cool on the stove. You sat on the counter and huffed. As much as you loved the boys , they could be a bit too rowdy for you sometimes.

Being in the kitchen by yourself gave you the quiet time you needed to rejuvenate. Your eyes turned to the door as you heard it crack open. Your eyes met with playful brown ones. "Oh , hey Yasopp !"

"What up , missy ?" He replied , closing the door behind him. "Whatcha doin' in here ? The party is out there." He walked over to your side and stared down at you , his smirk never leaving his face.

"Oh ! I was finishing up this chocolate mousse cake ! And I needed a bit of quiet time. Hope I didn't upset you guys too much !" As if to make up for it , you kissed his chin. He laughed and slung an arm around your shoulder. "You didn't upset us ! We were worried aboutcha." He shrugged and put his large hand on your smaller head.

"I'm sorry , I didn't mean to worry you guys . ." A hint of sadness coated your voice. This made Yasopp feel horrible. He panicked and smiled nervously. "No , fuck. That's not what I meant. Forget what I said. Did ya make the cake for us ?" He asked in an attempt to change the topic. It worked. It seemed like you had completely forgotten what he said previously.

"Yeah ! I hope I made it big enough. Wanna try a piece ?" You asked as you began cutting slices into it. You pulled a piece off and placed it onto a clean plate. "Only if ya feed it to me !" He laughed and placed his rifle on the table.

You nodded and got a fork from the drawer next to the cabinet. You took a piece off of the cake and placed it towards his lips. "Say ah ~" He opened his mouth and you gently placed the slice on his tongue. He wrapped his lips around the fork and made a noise of satisfaction.

"You're gonna feed him and not me ?? Wow , Sweetheart. I'm - HIC - I'm offended !" You heard from the doorway. Your head snapped over to find the source of the voice , Shanks. He had clearly drunken too much. You swore that he would find any chance he could to drink.

"Oh , come on ya oaf. I'll feed you too." You handed the plate to the blonde , who gratefully accepted the offer. He picked his weapon up from the table and walked outside with a smile on his face.

You cut a piece off for Shanks and fork fed him as well. "And what about us ??" You sighed and shook your head playfully as you noticed the line behind the red haired captain.

---

After cutting off slices and feeding everyone , you were exhausted. You sat against the door of the kitchen and watched everyone play around and sing loudly.

You shifted as you felt someone sit beside you. "Hey , Roux. Did ya enjoy the cake ?" You asked happily. "Is that even a question ? Definitely. You're the baker of the Red Haired Pirates , missy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He took a bite from the meat he had in his left hand and laughed.

"Of course ! I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's a new recipe." You informed , taking a sip from the alcohol you had gotten earlier. "Really ? It was VERY good." He complimented while putting hid large hand on the small of your back.

"Aww !! Thanks !!" Your cheeks lit up a red shade from his compliment. You kissed his cheek and giggled softly. "Heyyy ! I want one too !!" You heard from a drunken crewmate. Another line . . Sigh.

---

After hugging and kissing everyone's chin or cheek , you were more tired. Without knowing , you ended up passing out on the deck.

---

You woke up in the women's quarters , accompanied by Beck and Shanks. You jumped out of bed and stared at them. "What are you two doing here ?"

Benn rolled to his side and yawned. "Mornin' sleepy head. You asked us to stay." You tilted your head at his words. "Yeah , you begged us to stay here with ya , Missy." Came the voice of Shanks from your right. You scratched your cheek from embarrassment.

"Fuck , sorry you two." You kissed both of their foreheads before you were dragged back down by Shanks.

"Now hush up and go back to sleep , Reader." Before you could complain , you heard light snoring from behind you. It was Shanks , of course. He was already out. You couldn't leave either , since both of them had their arms trapping you against the bed.

Eventually , you just let it happen. The smell of smoke , cologne , and alcohol have you a slight headache , but it lulled you back into sleep.

[justiceforanders]

A Recipe for Disaster

Part of the "Wings and Blades" Lucanis x Rook Stories

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook (she/her)

Rating: G

Words: 1.3k

Available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61026115

Summary: Lucanis attempts to teach Rook how to bake the hazelnut torte. "Attempts" is the keyword.

A Recipe for Disaster is a story written for @meowzilla93, as part of my "Wings and Blades" series exploring the romance between Lucanis and different Rooks.

The Lighthouse kitchen was a wreck. Flour dusted every surface like a fresh snowfall, and smudges of apricot preserves streaked the wooden table. The sink overflowed with bowls, spatulas, and one forlorn whisk leaned precariously over the edge. It was a battlefield of culinary chaos, and at the center stood Delphine de Riva, cheeks dusted with flour, triumphantly holding a mixing bowl in one hand and her dagger in the other.

“Do not move,” she declared, pointing the dagger at Lucanis Dellamorte, who was crouched behind the dining table, clutching a half-empty bag of sugar like it was his most prized possession.

Lucanis peered over the counter, his brown eyes crinkling with amusement. A streak of batter clung to his moustache. “Rook, if I recall correctly, I’m not the one who started this war.”

“You threw the flour first!” Del accused, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her delight.

“You were aiming for my head with the eggs. What was I supposed to do?” He stood and sat on the edge of the table, feigning innocence, the sugar still firmly in his grasp.

Del planted the bowl down with a flourish, sending a puff of flour into the air. She sheathed her dagger with casual precision and crossed her arms. “If you wanted me to take you seriously, you wouldn’t have that batter moustache.”

Lucanis wiped at his face, smearing the batter further before realizing his mistake. He gave her a mock glare, and she burst into laughter so loud it filled the entire kitchen. Lucanis’ eyes softened immediately at the sound, his fondness for the other Crow clear as day.

“Fine,” Lucanis sighed dramatically, setting the sugar down. He stepped around the mess toward Del, his boots crunching against what might have been eggshells at some point. “You’ve won,” he added, a small smile on his lips. “Do your worst.”

Del tilted her head, pretending to ponder, her short grey bob bouncing with the movement. “Oh, I’ll do my worst,” she said, reaching for the chocolate icing she’d been attempting to make for the dessert. Before Lucanis could react, she swiped a generous dollop of it onto her fingers and smudged it across his cheek.

Lucanis froze, blinking. Then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, amor. You shouldn’t have done that.”

The next few seconds were a blur. Lucanis lunged for the frosting, and Del ducked under his arm with the grace of an assassin, darting to the other side of the table. She grabbed the bag of flour, brandishing it like a weapon.

“One step closer and I’ll…”

She never finished the threat.

Lucanis, faster than she expected, grabbed a handful of frosting and leaped across the table to smear it across her arm.

Del gasped in mock outrage, then hurled the bag of flour at him. It burst open mid-throw, raining down on them like a cloud. When the dust settled, they were both covered in white, their hair powdered, their dark clothes barely visible.

Lucanis coughed, shaking his head like a wet mabari. “You are impossible,” he said, his voice laced with laughter.

“And you’re terrible at dodging. You sure you can handle being the First Talon?” Del shot back with a giggle, wiping her face with the back of her hand, though it only smeared the mess further, mixing with her heavy makeup.

For a moment, they stood there, catching their breath amidst the wreckage of their baking attempt. Del leaned back against the table, blue eyes shining with mirth as she looked at Lucanis. His frame, now thoroughly dusted in flour, still carried that undeniable charm. Even covered in icing and chaos, he managed to look like he belonged on a recruitment poster for the Crows.

“What are we even making?” Del asked finally, gesturing to the disaster around them.

“You wanted to learn how to make the hazelnut torte, no?” Lucanis replied, straightening up and attempting to brush off some of the flour. “At least, that’s what it was supposed to be before you declared war on your First Talon.”

Del snorted, reaching for a damp cloth to wipe her hands. “You started it when you wouldn’t let me mix the batter.”

“You were eating half of it!” he countered, though there was no heat in his words.

“And you weren’t?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Lucanis didn’t deny it. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “Alright, Rook. Let’s finish this before the others come in and decide we’re unfit to use the kitchen ever again. We can’t have Harding taking over our kitchen rotations. Truce?”

Del gave him a mock suspicious look but finally nodded. “Truce. But if you throw anything else at me, I swear I’ll…”

“Relax, Rook.” He reached past her, grabbing a clean bowl. Their hands brushed, and for a brief moment, the playful energy between them shifted. Del’s heart skipped a beat as Lucanis’ fingers lingered just a second too long against hers.

Clearing her throat, she stepped back. “Right. Let’s bake this... Whatever this mess is.”

They worked together, surprisingly well despite the mess. Del handled the frosting while Lucanis focused on finishing the batter. Their banter continued, light and easy, though every so often their eyes met, and the horrors of the world outside the Lighthouse seemed to fade.

Finally, the torte was assembled, though it looked nothing like the one Lucanis had made for Del when they’d decided to give this whole dating thing a try. Still… It was better than anything Del could’ve made on her own.

She slid it onto a plate with a flourish. “Not bad for two assassins who’ve probably spent more time stabbing people than baking.”

Lucanis chuckled, pouring two cups of black coffee and setting them on the table. “Not bad at all. Though, I think you might have used salt instead of sugar for the cake.”

Del’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

He smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

She took a tentative bite. Immediately, her nose scrunched. “It’s definitely salt.”

Lucanis burst into laughter, and despite herself, Del joined in, the sound echoing through the messy kitchen.

As they sat at the table sipping their coffee, the torte abandoned, Lucanis glanced at Del, his expression softening. In the dim firelight of the kitchen, surrounded by the chaos they had created, she looked like a masterpiece.

“You know,” he said, his voice quiet, “I think I’ll remember this disaster more fondly than any flawless mission we’ve ever pulled off.”

Del looked up, startled by the tenderness in his tone. Her blue eyes searched his face for a moment before a soft smile curved her lips. “Careful, Lucanis. If you keep saying things like that, I might think you enjoy my company.”

“I do,” he replied simply, the sincerity in his voice making her heart stumble.

Del blinked, her smile growing a little wider. “Well, you’re alright too,” she teased, though the warmth in her tone betrayed her affection. She nudged the abandoned torte in the center of the table with a finger. “Even if you’re a terrible teacher.”

Lucanis chuckled, reaching out to place his hand over hers. “And you, Rook, are a terrible student.” His fingers squeezed hers gently. “But I wouldn’t trade this mess for anything.”

Del glanced at their joined hands, warmth creeping into her cheeks. The playfulness of their earlier battle still lingered in the air, but now it was underpinned with something softer – something unspoken but deeply felt. She tilted her head and quirked a brow. “Not even for a proper hazelnut torte?”

“Not even for that,” Lucanis said, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin.

[revisitingfandoms]

Can you do a prompt similar to "menagerie of pets" except the beasts are pet owners while the ancients are pets?

ANSWERED PROMPT #3

Shadow milk pouts as animal before him whines and tries to bury itself back in the corner. “Come on vanilly~, why you gotta do me this way..” He whines as he turns back around. Mystic flour looked slightly ruffled and by the growling coming from the nearby cage. Inside of it was a great dane with a deep brown mixed with some lightly shades of purple and a ting of gray coming through.

Shadow coos at the great dane, “hello there dark cacao, ooo yes you- ouch!” He pulls his fingers back from the cage as dark cacao barely nibbles him. Shadow milk glares at the dog and then turns to face mystic flour and frantically motions to the caged dog, “hey! Why’d he bite me!?” 

Mystic flour only raises an eyebrow, “..hes broody, all five of his pups are getting checked up and I have no doubt that he’s picking on one or more of them whining.” Shadow milk grumbles and sees his pet deer curled up in the corner again. “..come on pure vanilla, really?” Shadow milk huffs and then bursts out laughing as burning spice comes out with his bird cage and looking extremely ruffled, “wh-ahah, happened to you?”

Burning spice glares at him, “Golden Cheeses wings needed to be trimmed, again.” Shadow milk goes silent. It hadn’t been the first time since burning spice had brought this up- every since… the incident, golden cheese wings have never healed.. Right.

They all knew burning spice blamed himself.. Deeply.

Burning spice sits down on the couch as he carefully sets the bird cage with a sleeping yellow cardinal lay inside with a bandaged wing. Its silent until salt stepped out. In the terrarium he held was his orchid mantis. He passed a thumbs. Which was a relief. Shadow milk chuckles, “Girls getting big, welp, I better get Pure vanilla ready to go, his turn is soon.” At the mention of the deer- they all pause and look over at the corner where… pure vanilla wasn’t anymore.

Shadow milks head immediately swirls around to spot pure vanilla with his body half way out the window. “OH NO YOU DON’T! NOT AGAIN!” before rushing off to his deer.

Mystic only chuckles as burning spice gets up to help, followed by salt setting his terrarium for white lily down and following over. A few moments later of the boys trying to get pure vanilla out from the window, out came Eternal sugar with her albino turtle, hollyberry. She stares at the scene of shadow milk trying to drag his pet deer in by its butt while the other two try to nudge its front inside.

She looks down at her turtle, “Look at the shit we deal with hollyberry.”

The call out “Language” from the three speaking members of their friend group was completely unneeded.

Shennigans, nothing but shennigans.

[hallow-witxh]

Pumpkin Cupcakes Feel-Good Abundance Spell Recipe

Yes yes yes, I know it's still summer and autumn is a loooong way away, but damnit, sometimes I want to call forth my Inner White Girl and indulge in pumpkin spice! Well, luckily for me (and for you!), I have a perfect recipe for you - because not only is it a dozen pumpkin spice mini cakes, but also a feel-good and abundance spell. So here's my abundance spell recipe - complete with cream cheese frosting and DIY pumpkin spice mix! So, without further ado, here we go!

What you'll need:

Pumpkin pie spice:

3 tablespoons ground cinnamon (adds power to the spell, prosperity, success)

2 teaspoons ground ginger (adds strength to the spell)

2 teaspoons ground nutmeg (money)

1 teaspoon ground allspice (money, luck)

1 teaspoon ground cloves (success)

Bowl

Spoon, fork, or whisk

Cakes:

2 eggs

1 1/4 cups granulated sugar (banishes negativity)

1 cup pumpkin puree (granting wishes, prosperity)

3/4 cup melted butter (enhances peacefulness)

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice (abundance)

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (self-love)

1/4 teaspoon salt (protection, grounding)

Cupcake liners (I like these! Unbleached, chlorine-free)

Wire rack (optional)

Whisk, hand mixer, or stand mixer

Large mixing bowl

Cream cheese frosting:

1/2 cup softened butter (enhances peacefulness)

8 ounces softened cream cheese (meeting goals)

4 1/2 cups powdered sugar (banishes negativity)

splash of vanilla extract (self-love)

Large mixing bowl

Hand mixer, or stand mixer (trust me, you'll want a hand or stand mixer for this)

Piping bags (optional)

What you'll do:

Pumpkin pie spice:

Add all ingredients into a bowl

Mix mix mix

All done!

Cakes:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (F) and line a 12-cup muffin baking pan with paper liners

Place the wet ingredients (eggs, sugar, pumpkin puree, and butter) in a bowl or stand mixer bowl. Whisk or mix until smooth.

Add the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder, pumpkin pie spice, vanilla extract, and salt) to the bowl. Stir until just combined.

Divide the batter among the 12 muffin cups.

Bake for 15-18 minutes, or until just browned and a toothpick inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean. A chopstick also works but leaves a bigger hole. Don't worry, you can cover it up with frosting.

Cool for a few minutes in the pan on the wire rack, then transfer the cupcakes to the wire rack to cool completely. Don't frost until the cupcakes are completely cool!

Cream cheese frosting:

Put the butter and cream cheese in the bowl of a mixer or a mixing bowl and mix until light and fluffy, about 3-4 minutes.

Add the powdered sugar, one cup at a time, and mix on low speed until combined. Add the vanilla extract and mix for a minute.

If the frosting is too thick, add 1 teaspoon of milk at a time until desired consistency is reached. You can use any kind of milk, but I don't recommend soy.

Optionally, you can put the frosting in a piping bag and pipe the frosting on the cupcakes. Or you can just dollop it on with a spoon. Or, if you're like a monster like me, you can put a cupcake in a bowl and scoop in some frosting with it. Oh who am I kidding, I mash it all up together like an ungodly goop...

I know it's a long post, but I promise it's actually quite easy! And delicious. Very, very delicious.

As always, practice safely, do your research, and blessed be!

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi!

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Faerie and Vampr

Chapter Five

Half the patrons of Marco’s Bar and Grill thought Erik had a hand in the markings on the women’s bodies. The other 50 percent thought that some of the vampire’s from bigger towns or cities had bitten Maudette and Dawn when they were out bar hopping, and they deserved what they got if they wanted to go to bed with vampires. Some thought the girls had been strangled by a vampire, some thought they had just continued their promiscuous ways into disaster. 

But most importantly, everyone who came into Marco’s was worried that some other woman would be killed next. Tamara couldn’t count the times she was told to be careful, to watch her vampire friend who popped up in town recently, told to lock her doors and take the day shift instead. Lloyd came in for both commiseration and suspicion as a man who’d “dated” both women. 

He had come by the house one day and stayed around for about an hour while Nana Sylvia and Tamara tried to encourage him to keep going with his work and doing what Lloyd normally does. But for the first time in Tamara’s memory, her handsome brother was really worried. She hated that he got himself mixed up with those women. It’s unfortunate what happened to them, but now her brother could be in trouble with the law for something he didn’t do. 

Tamara didn’t try to dwell on the deaths of the two women. Although everyone else was suspicious of her brother and Erik, all she could think about was that kiss two nights ago. His lips, so soft and skillful, had her dreaming of what it would be like to roll around in the sheets kissing him all night long. The dream didn’t go further than kissing, which was enough to have her pink and white panties wet waking up that morning, but the possibility of sex with Vampyr Erik did cross Tamara’s mind. 

It was the evening for Crimson Mist. Tamara finally pulled a simple dress from her closet after going through half of her dress collection and littering her bed. She felt it was perfect for the occasion. It was a nice date dress, if you wanted the personal interest of whoever was your escort. It was a body con dress. Tight and black. The fabric was clinging to every dip, curve, and valley. Her brown skin glowed and her cleavage showed. She completed the look with metallic silver high-heeled sexy sandals, a delicate sterling silver chain necklace that draped between her breasts, and silver hoops. She put on light glam makeup and wore her hair in a fresh wash-and-go.

Nana Sylvia’s eyes widened when she came out of her room. 

“Sugar, you look beautiful,” she said. “Aren’t ya’ gonna be a little cold in that dress?”

Tamara giggled, “No, ma’am, I don’t think so. It’s pretty warm tonight.” 

“Ya’ sure?” Nana Sylvia pressed. “a nice white sweater, the one I got ya’ for Christmas—”

“Okay, how about I grab my moto jacket just in case it cools down?” 

Tamara looked and felt sexy. Something she rarely gets a chance to feel. She was pretty excited about going on a date with Erik, though she kind of asked him herself and it was more of a fact-finding mission. Plus, it’s his bar. Would it count as a date at his own business?

“See,” Tamara showed Nana Sylvia her moto jacket, “This goes well with it, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m not tryna tell ya’ what to do.”

Tamara kisses her Nana on the cheek. A knock on the door had Nana Sylvia moving faster than Tamara to be the first to open the door. She fixed her silver hair that was styled in a low bun and adjusted her house dress with different tribal patterns on it. She gasped with excitement and opened her arms in true grandma fashion, pulling Erik’s cold body into a warm embrace. 

“Erik! It’s so good to see ya’ again! How are ya’, handsome?” 

“Takin’ it easy, Miss Sylvia. Ya’ lookin’ beautiful. I hope all is well wit’ ya’.” 

“Oh,” Nana Sylvia blushed. “It's well. All is well. Come in! Come in! Darn moths…”

Erik chuckled, swatting a few away before shutting the door behind him. His eyes scanned the foyer with immense joy before they fell on Tamara standing awkwardly to his right. 

Erik wore a white beater that left little to the imagination— an eight pack and pecs to match. Black jeans that fit tighter at the ankles and loose in the waist were on his lower half. He had on a moto jacket himself but it was black and white. Tungsten steel pendants hung from his neck and various rings in tungsten accessorized his thick fingers. Onyx earrings bejeweled both ears and high top black and white vans were on his feet. 

When he saw her, Tamara wasn’t sure if she’d overdone it because he seemed really annoyed. His face went quite still. His eyes flared. His fingers curved as if he were scooping something up with them. Tamara had to remind herself that she couldn’t hear his thoughts. The one person who she’d give anything to listen in on. 

“Is this okay?” Tamara asked anxiously. She felt the butterflies in her belly. 

“…Yes,” He finally spoke. But his pause had been long enough to get Nana Sylvia’s attention.

“Look, sugar, ya’ got this man speechless!!” Nana Sylvia laughed, “My Tammy is the prettiest girl around!”

“Oh, yes,” Erik agreed, but there was a curious lack of inflection in his deep voice. 

Tamara didn’t know what to think. She wanted to call the entire date off then. What was his fucking problem? Screw him. This isn’t a damn date anyway. Tamara stiffened her back and walked up to him, linking her arm in his.

“Ready?” She said with her own annoyance.

“Yes,” Erik turned to Nana Sylvia with a pleasant half smirk, “Good-bye, Miss Sylvia. It was a pleasure seeing ya’ again.”

“You as well, Erik, you two have a good ol’ time. Take care of my sugar foot!” she said, waving them out of the house. 

“Nanaaa,” Tamara fussed with a whiny voice.

“Girl, hush.” Nana Sylvia said.

“Always,” Erik chuckled before he looked down at Tamara,  guiding her down the porch steps. 

Nana Sylvia waited in the door until they were both safe in his flashy sports car. It’s so black Tamara couldn’t see it until they were standing right in front of it. Erik took her jacket and held her door open as she slipped inside. He shut the door softly and like lighting he was on the drivers side and entering. His car had that new car smell and it was so pristine. The leather seat was warm and molded into her body comfortably. He kindly turned on the AC and she buckled herself in. 

Erik took off and Tamara loved how smooth the car drove. Like the tires were gliding on water. Smokestack Lightning played from the Bluetooth in his car and Tamara glanced over at the way he drove one-handed with his left hand while his other hand rested in his lap. She gripped her clutch tightly in her lap, trying to find a way to break the ice.

“I’m sorry I’m not dressed to your liking,” Tamara said sarcastically, staring straight ahead of her.

Erik came to a slow halt in the woods just a mile from the road.

“Who said all that?” Erik asked, his voice very gentle.

“You looked at me like I did something wrong by wearin’ this dress, Erik,” Tamara snapped.

“I’m just doubting my ability to get ya’ in and out without having to kill someone who wants ya’.” 

Tamara slowly turned to look at Erik. 

“You’re being sarcastic.” She turned her gaze back in front of her again but her heart was racing.

Suddenly, Erik’s hand gripped her chin, forcing her to turn and look at him.

“Do I look like I am?”  Erik asked.

His dark eyes were wide and unblinking. 

“No…” Tamara admitted.

“Then accept what I say.” 

He let go of her chin and Tamara sat back in her seat while he resumed driving.

“So…ya’ like it then?” Tamara asked with a small voice.

Erik licked his lips and then stole a look at her dress before turning his attention back onto the road.

“I love the dress. A lot.” 

His eyes went to her again and he scanned her body from head to toe. He took a deep breath in and released it slowly. Tamara glanced over at his lap and she noticed that he was clenching his right fist. 

“Thank you.” 

“Ya’ welcome,” Erik shifted his hips. “What are ya’ wearing on ya’ skin?”

“Huh?” Tamara touched the side of her neck with her fingertips, “Oh, oh uh…Tom Ford. Lost Cherry.” 

“That scent was made for ya’. It enhances your natural pheromones…”

Tamara jumped slightly when Erik pressed his face into her neck and inhaled. Her eyes flashed to the road and he was driving in a straight line to her surprise. He reselfaced and his eyes were low like he was on a super high. Tamara pulled down the mirror above her to apply more gloss to her lips. The choice of music went from blues to R&B and Tamara admired his taste in music. He’d been around long enough to experience it all. 

“Can we roll the windows down? I’d like fresh air if that’s okay…please?”

“I gotcha,” Erik switched off the AC and brought the front two windows all the way down, “good?”

“Perfect,” Tamara’s long spirals blew in the wind and in her face. She smiled to herself, a surge of confidence overcoming her. 

“What are ya’ smilin’ ‘bout?” Erik asked with a smile of his own.

“Nothingggg,” Tamara smoothed hair from her eyes.

“Do I have to get it out of ya, little one?”

“How will you do that?” She turned to look at him.

Erik simply placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed it gently. Tamara’s back stiffened and she looked down at his hand. She knew he could grip her harder than that, and the thought turned her on. He started stroking her inner thigh and she gasped. He caught that.

“Are ya’ gon’ tell me, baby girl?” His black eyes fell on her and he arched a single thick brow.

“…Okay,” She rolled her eyes, “I like that you like what I’m wearing…I like that I made ya’ happy.” 

“Why was that so hard to say, Tammy?”

“I don’t know,” She blushed.

“I make ya’ nervous, Sugar?” 

It wasn’t a question. 

And why did Sugar sound so good Rolling off his tongue?

Tamara didn’t respond. 

“It’s okay. You make me nervous too.”

Tamara didn’t believe that for a second. She looked at him with an accusatory stare. Erik caught her looking and cracked a dimpled smile. 

“Seriously. It’s hard for me to act normal around ya’. I’ve never had this close of a relationship with a human in over eighty years. I’m constantly in my head, trying to impress ya’, tryna’ fight ma’ urges…”

Tamara let his words sink in. She didn’t know vampires could get nervous. She smiled again knowing that she made Erik nervous. This vampire sitting next to her. 

“We’re not so different,” Erik smirked.

Tamara suddenly had the courage to kiss him. She leaned over in her seat and pecked Erik’s cheek. He blinked twice rapidly as if brought out of hypnosis and looked at her. She giggled and shook her head before turning her body fully in her seat. Tamara slipped her feet out of her sandals and brought her feet up to rest on his dashboard but paused when she realized what she was about to do.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright—”

“I’m so used to doin’ it in Lloyd’s truck—”

“Put ya’ pretty feet up there, I don’t care.” Erik said.

“Ya’ sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Tamara stretched her legs. She noticed Erik admiring her toes with nails painted white and a gold anklet with the letter E on it. 

“Thank ya’ for the kiss. But it wasn’t exactly the kiss that I wanted.” Erik said.

“You’re driving right now and I didn’t want to distract ya’ too much,” Tamara replied. 

Erik pulled over on the side of the road and put the car in park. Without a word or a warning, he was out of the car and on Tamara’s side within one breath. She watched as he opened her door and held his hand out for her to take. After slipping on her heels, Tamara grasped his hand with a curious look on her face. Erik shut the door and walked her around to the trunk of the car. In a black night that hugged the skin, that brought full comfort to the soul, the headlights became like lighthouse beams.

“What are we doin’ out here, Erik?” Tamara questioned with an ethereal voice.

Her back is towards the car and he’s standing in front of her. He’s so close now that her ass bumped the trunk and she realized that he’d trapped her. She looked him in the eyes, waiting with bated breath. Erik’s hands molded into her waist and then he lifted her to sit on the trunk. 

“I want a proper kiss.” Erik said.

“We’re wasting time.”

“Not when I own that motherfucka’…”

Tamara tilted her head in thought. What was there to think about?

“I’m trying to decide if you deserve it—”

Erik had his hand in her hair and his lips on hers. Tamara gripped his biceps and squeezed, her body leaning forward to press against his chest. Erik’s hands moved to cup her face and their heads swiveled from left to right. His tongue swiped her bottom lip to grant him access into her sweet mouth and she parted her lips for him to divulge.

 The pouty softness of her bottom lip against the plumpness of his upper lip sent shock waves through her. The evening breeze blew her curls into Erik’s eyes and his locs fell over his forehead from the movement. Tamara broke the kiss and Erik’s eyes noticed how swollen her lips were. He could taste her gloss on his lips and tongue and their eyes met with emotions so strong words couldn’t describe. 

“Maybe we should…get goin’,” Tamara said with a feathery voice. 

Erik could hear her heart pumping through her chest. With his enhanced night vision, he could see the perspiration clinging to her exposed skin and the stiffness of her nipples. If only he had X-ray vision. Her hair is shiny; like black silk and she smelled like sweet almond milk and cherries. 

“Why are ya’  in such a rush, Tammy?” Erik asked.

“I–I’m not.” 

Erik gave her a disbelieving look with a smirk, “it’s just kissin’, baby girl. I promise I’ll excuse my hands and…other things…until ya’ give me the green light.”

He heard the tremble in her breath. 

“Ya’ seem to enjoy our kissing a lot so,” Erik took one of her curls and wrapped it around his finger, “Ya’ want more?” His lips were so close to hers, “‘Cause I do.”

Tammy closes the space between them and with her arms around his shoulders she takes the lead. Erik’s right arm came around Tamara’s waist and her back arched, pressing her soft chest against his vigorous chest. As she nibbled on his bottom lip, Erik’s right hand smoothed down her back until he picked her up to straddle him. The split in her body con dress made it easier for her legs to come around his tapered waist. Both of his hands palmed her ass and his rigid dick would have caressed her sex if it wasn’t for him sitting her back down on the car. She would have been so ready to take him with how wet she is. He could smell her arousal and it was just as sweet. 

“Ya’ right, let’s go.” Erik said between breaths.

His fangs had materialized during their kissing session and Tamara hadn’t noticed. She was having a hard time catching her own breath.

“Okay,” She smoothed her hair from her face.

She couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“Patience, baby,” Erik said, stroking her chin.

His fangs popped back in and Erik picked Tamara up and spun her around before dropping her to her feet quickly. She gasped, staring up at him flustered until a bright smile graced her face.

“I can’t stay mad at you for long,” She admitted.

“I wouldn’t want you to. It breaks my undead heart,” Erik replied jokingly.

They got back in the car and resumed their drive to Crimson Mist with his hand on her thigh and her feet on his dash.

Crimson Mist, the vampire bar and nightclub, was located on Bourbon Street. It was situated within an alleyway and secluded. The name of the place was spelled out in jazzy red neon above the door, and the facade was painted black, with a red door providing color contrast. 

Erik walked around to open Tamara’s door, and he helped her out with one hand while shutting the door with the other. With an arm around her waist, Erik guided Tamara towards the entrance where two bouncers were carding people before entering. When they noticed Erik approaching, one of them opened the door for him to enter. She could sense that those men were both vampires and Erik detected her nervousness.

They were standing in a little boxy entrance hall with red lights. 

“Breathe, Tammy,” Erik whispered into her hair, “Stick to my side at all times.” 

Past a black velvet drape, Tamara got her first comprehensive look at Crimson Mist’s interior. Everything was black and red. The walls were covered with upholstered paneling that reminded Tamara of sound proof foam. There are two bars on each side of the club, a stage for entertainment and another stage with a throne chair situated on it. Random stripper poles with beautiful women twirling from them. The music was deafening, the people were dressed in leather, chains and whips. The lighting was dim, of course, nothing unusual about that. 

Vampire groupies and tourists were among the majority of patrons and it made it easier to distinguish the undead from the living. Some of the living looked ridiculous with their capes, fake fangs, and painted blood. They were extraordinary, and extraordinarily pathetic. The undead were like real jewels in a bin of rhinestones. They mostly favored dark clothes too, but were more interesting. 

With Erik still clinging to her, Tamara continued to look around with interest and amazement and some distaste. All eyes were on them, probably because of Erik. He leaned down to whisper to her.

“You look like a white candle in a coal mine.”

Tamara giggled, and then they strolled through the scattered crowd of people to the bar. There was a never ending supply of alcohol on fancy glass shelves behind the bar and Tamara could also see bottled blood either refrigerated or warm in cases for the vampires. The laminated menu attached to the sticky bar top in black marble had signature drinks like a bloodthirsty martini or a blood orange margarita. Tamara ordered a Fangria and accepted the drink from a smiling bartender that showed his fangs. Tamara returned a nervous smile. 

“How’s it going, boss?” The bartender asked. “This pretty thing is your meal for tonight?” He nodded towards Tamara as he put her drink on the bar for her. 

“This is Tamara,” Erik pulled her closer to him, “She has some questions to ask tonight. I figured I’d bring her along to see if she can get the answers she desires.”

Tamara looked up at Erik with a slight frown. 

“Anything, beautiful,” the Indian bartender with long coal black hair looked at her with hungry eyes. 

“Do you know anything about these two women,” Tamara retrieved her phone from her clutch, presenting the photos to the bartender, “Or this man here,” She pulled up a photo of Lloyd. 

“Yes, to the women, no to the man, though he looks delicious,” said the bartender, smiling at her again, “Is that your husband?”

“No. That’s my brother. I just wanted to know if he’d been around here with any of these women. Have ya’ noticed any men around these women?”

“…that’s something I wouldn’t know,” he replied quickly, his face closing down, “that’s something we don’t notice here. You won’t either. Ain’t that right, boss?”

Tamara looked up at Erik again and he had an expression with practiced control. 

“Thank you,” Tamara said politely, realizing she’d broken a rule. It was dangerous to ask who left with whom, evidently, “I appreciate it. Thanks for the drink.”

The bartender looked at Tamara considerably.

“Let me see the girls again,” he pointed at the photo of Dawn’s picture, “that one, she wanted to die.”

Tamara leaned in to speak closer. Erik stood behind her now, both hands on her waist.

“How do ya’ know?”

“Everyone who comes here does, to one extent or another,” he said matter-of-factly. Tamara could tell he took that for granted. “That's what we are. Death.”

He chuckled and Erik joined in on the laugh. Tamara shuddered. Erik’s arm found its way on her arm, drawing her away to a vacated booth. Tamara pulled her arm away from him, clearly irritated, and just then she was blocked by a statuesque woman covered in tattoos and wearing a black lace shawl with bell sleeves, a black corskirt that hugged her curves, and a patent leather black clincher. Her hair was styled similar to those pinup girls from the 40s and her bold red lipstick made her lips look sultry. 

“Finally brought your play thing to the establishment. How sweet.”

Tamara arched a brow at Lana and she was ready to say something just as unpleasant but Erik cut her off. 

“Lana, this is Tamara. Didn’t get the chance to speak last time with everything that happened.” Erik said.

“I don’t recall wanting to speak to her last time,” Lana cocked her head to the side, challenging Tamara to say anything with her deadly stare. 

“Lana,” Erik’s eyes narrowed and his voice went deep, “Do I have to remind you of our discussion earlier?”

Lana’s demeanor changed with one look from Erik and a bright smile replaced her face. She gave Tamara a flirty wave that Tamara didn’t return because she could see that Lana was only playing nice because Erik told her so. 

“Can’t return the gesture? Let me find out this sweet little fragile thang ain’t so sweet.” Lana teased.

“I don’t do well with fakes,” Tamara replied. 

Lana’s brows rose with humor and her beautiful smile with sharp white fangs didn’t seem to affect Tamara. Erik was losing patients with her disrespect and from the way Erik looked, Tamara didn’t want to stick around to see what he had planned for his progeny. 

“Trust, the feeling is mutual.” Lana replied.

Lana strutted away from them to the throne chair that Tamara gathered belonged to Erik. She left Erik standing there and slid into the booth. He joined her and sat across from her, his pitch black eyes scanning the room before they came to a stop on her. 

“This is reality, Tammy.” Erik said.

“Do you think I came here with you to die? Because I didn’t,” Tamara argued.

Erik laughed, and if it wasn’t for her anger towards him, she would have folded. The smile and the dimples get her every time. 

“What’s so funny? You knew I wasn’t going to get any answers coming here, didn’t you?”

“…And ya’ knew that yourself. Love the determination by the way, nice touch,” Erik smirked.

“You really get on my nerves,” Tamara glared at Erik.

Erik laughed harder, “Not so fast, baby girl. We just had a moment not too long ago. You want me to give ya’ a reminder?”

Tamara kissed her teeth and Erik puckered his lips to mimic their kissing followed by a deep chuckle. Tamara rolled her eyes at his childishness.

“C’mon, fuck those dead women. You know ya’ brother ain’t do that shit. Let’s just enjoy the night.”

“And you, right?” Tamara said.

“And me. We had this discussion two nights ago, baby girl. Finish your drink off so I can get ya’ a new one.”

“So, what is this then? A date? You didn’t even properly ask me on a date to even consider this a date—”

“It’s a way for you to see my world a lot closer. And for the record, princess, I would never bring ya’ here for a date.” Erik quipped.

“I don’t even think you know how to date,” Tamara fired back. 

Erik slipped in beside her now, boxing her in. Tamara refused to look at him as best as she could.

“This isn’t the place to take a woman like you on a date. You deserve more than this. Just because I own it, doesn’t mean I like it.” 

Tamara stared at Erik confused, “What?”

Erik exhaled frustratingly, “The only reason that I own this bar is because I have to. The vampire government forced me to. They wanted me to come up with a way to welcome humans for entertainment and fun. I’m bored with all of this…”

“Then sell it,” Tamara said, “Have ya’ thought about that?”

“Yes. But I would prefer that the vampire hierarchy not track my every move. This gives them a way to be distracted. Everything that goes on here stays here. That’s the rule. As long as I follow that rule, I’m all good.”

“What constitutes fun for you then?” 

Erik’s eyes scanned Tamara’s body. She finished off the rest of her drink, the blossoming warmth of the alcohol spreading through her. 

“Going for a long drive, flying, visiting a museum, cooking, reading, dancing…just to name a few…”

Tamara’s icy demeanor melted away. She was interested in knowing more about him besides the fact that he’s an attractive vampire.

Flying?” Tamara asked.

“Yeah,” Erik smirked, “It’s a rush.” 

“I–I didn’t know vampires could fly.”

“We can do a lot of things,” Erik said with a half smirk.

“Then why drive?” 

“When I’m with a human, I’d prefer to drive. Flying with you looking all pretty would be a disaster.”

Tamara giggled, “How considerate of you. Flying sounds peaceful.”

“I can show ya’ one night. Take you up into the clouds so you can see Louisiana from above.”

Tamara’s hazel eyes went wide with excitement. Erik couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on his face. She’s so adorable.

“I’m scared!” Tamara giggles, “I’ve never even been on a plane.” 

“You’ll love it.” Erik took one of Tamara’s hands, staring at her nails.

“You said cook…”

Erik licked his lips, “Yes.”

“Were you a chef?”

“I was a food artisan. My parents had their own shop where we would sell our own items.” 

“…so that means you could cook for me?”

“I will cook for you. I can tell ya’ when something is undercooked or overcooked. I could tell ya’ when something is toxic for ya’ to consume. I know what flavors work well together, how to make wine…better than most of these people who call themselves chefs.”

 The music was loud and aggressive and it had everyone crowding the dance floor. The pole dancers worked over time to entertain everyone. Bottle girls went around to supply more drinks, and Tamara had a few more herself. She was too shy to ask Erik for a dance. But she could see that he wanted to. Three Six Mafia had the whole club banging. 

A fang-banger with a banging body and a perfect weave approached their booth. Tamara was half-hidden by Erik finishing her drink, but still, they’d all seen him enter with her. She was gorgeous, like those models in music videos. She bent across the table with her titties almost popping out to get her mouth about two inches from Erik.

“Hi, dangerous,” She said with a sultry voice. She tapped Erik’s bottled blood with a long acrylic fingernail painted scarlet, “I have the real stuff.” She stroked her neck to make sure he got the point, “Why don’t you come with me so you can have a taste?”

Tamara took a deep breath to control her temper. Erik was her date. She waited to see what he would say and if it was anything other than turning down her advances, Tamara was leaving. She wanted to mush her in the face but she held absolutely still so she wouldn’t give Erik any cues on what she wanted. 

“Ya’ don’t see that I’m with someone? Just actin’ all bold coming over here?” Erik said with narrow eyes.

“She doesn't have any puncture marks on her neck,” the girl observed, acknowledging Tamara’s presence finally with an amused look as if Tamara being next to a vampire was a joke. As if she didn’t belong at Crimson Mist.

“Like I said, I’m with her.” Erik said, his voice not so gentle this time. He grabbed Tamara’s hand and rubbed it with his thumb, “I’m sure you’ll find what ya’ want somewhere else.” 

“They say you have a big dick to match those big fangs,” She licked her lips.

Tamara gawked at the girl. Erik wasn’t her man but the nerve of this bitch to boldly say that in front of her. Erik chuckled and it irritated Tamara. What the fuck is so funny?

“Don’t matter what you heard. You ain’t gettin’ nothing from me.” Erik said. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” She sat up, rolling her eyes at Tamara.

“Yes I do,” Erik said.

The girl kissed her teeth and stumbled away. 

“You okay?” Erik turned to check on Tamara.

“Yeah.” Tamara looked down at her empty glass.

“Want another drink?” Erik asked.

“Sure.”

Erik didn’t have to get up from his seat. He just raised his arm and a server; a human from what it looked like with bite marks on her neck as well, rushed over. She was hypnotized by Erik’s presence and Erik had to repeat the order to her. She hurried away and Tamara noticed more women looking towards the direction of their booth, even men. 

“You haven’t said anything since that chick came over to the table,” Erik said. 

“There’s nothing to say,” Tamara replied, with great self-control.

“Why’s that?” 

Tamara exhaled, “I shouldn’t have to say anything. You handled it respectfully and that’s all there is to it.” 

Erik smirked, “You could have sent her on her way.”

“I’m not the one to get into petty fights with a woman no matter how disrespectful she was. And I wanted to see how you would handle it. I would have been gone if it was the other way around, Erik. You should be happy about that.”

“I am happy. And you’re the only girl I want, Tammy.”

Tamara’s stomach did somersaults.

“Do you want me wit’ you?” Erik asked her in a hushed tone that was similar to a ghostly whisper. 

The hard planes of his body pressed into Tamara’s much smaller one, blocking her against the wall of the booth. The dim light above them made his skin glow and his perfect face was close to hers.

“What do you think?” Tamara looked from his lips to his eyes.

“Ma, I’m asking you,” Erik arched a brow, “That vampire over there scanned you twice.”

“You’re teasing me,” Tamara looked towards the direction Erik was focused on. 

The vampire he indicated was handsome, in fact, radiant; a faded cut with green eyes, tall and broad shouldered, sepia skin without fault and iridescent. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a vest. He had this vicious look in his eyes and when Tamara looked up at Erik he had the same look but it scared Tamara more. 

“His name is Dean,” Erik said. 

“How old is he?”

“I’ve known him since the 20s. I’m the oldest vampire in this bar.”

“He looks mean. Why is he glaring at me?”

Erik chuckled, “We’re all mean, Tamara. Very strong and very violent. And he’s glaring because he’s trying to control himself from coming over here and taking you away from me. He knows that won’t happen.”

Dean gave Erik a mischievous smirk and started towards them as if gliding across the floor. Tamara’s breath hitched and Erik didn’t move. Dean took a seat across from Erik and Tamara with a bottle of True Blood in his hand. 

“Erik. I expected to see you sitting on your throne.”

“Not tonight. I’m here with this beautiful girl.”

“Hmm, I can see that,” Dean smirked handsomely at Tamara, “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Tamara.” 

“Ooo, I like that. And you smell,” Dean’s green eyes sparkled with intensity, “Delicious.” 

“She’s mine.” Erik snapped. 

Dean stared at him with annoyance. 

“I didn’t come over here to take her from you, Erik. I know she’s yours. Every vampire in here knows. That’s why none of us came over here to take her ourselves. But I can’t deny a sexy woman when I see one.”

Tamara blushes. She tucked her chin bashfully at Dean’s compliment. He’s definitely a smooth talker. Erik was smoldering. Tamara’s hand on his arm kept him under control.

“I want to ask Dean a question if that’s okay?”

Erik’s jaw clenched, “Go ‘head.” 

“Have you seen either of these women in this bar?”

Dean studied the pictures with his thumb grazing his bottom lip. Erik wasn’t going to take his eyes off of Dean. He knew exactly what he was capable of. 

“I have been with this one,” Dean said coolly, tapping Dawn’s picture. “She liked pain.”

Dean shot a glance at Erik and there was an unspoken bond there that Tamara was curious about. 

“This one here,” he flicked his finger at Maudette’s picture, “was a pathetic creature.” 

“Thanks,” Tamara put her phone away.

“Erik, why haven’t you brought your friend around before?” Dean asked. 

“Me and Erik are new friends,” Tamara responded with a bright smile to him, seeing that Erik was too irritated to speak.

“Aren’t you so sweet,” Dean observed.

“Not especially,” Tamara said.

Dean stared at her with surprise. 

“Well, then maybe you should bring your new friend around more often. If she can handle Crimson Mist, she can handle anything.” 

Dean reached for Tamara’s hand and Erik’s hand zipped past her to grab a hold of Dean’s throat. Dean laughed and Erik’s fangs popped out making him look like a true monster. Tamara had a hand pressed to her chest and she was frozen in fear. The speed at which they move will never get old to her. Erik squeezed down on Dean’s neck and slammed him against the table, standing above him. Dean hisses at Erik with his sharp fangs. 

“She’s…mine. If ya’ don’t want to lose your head, I suggest you keep your fuckin’ hands to ya’ self.” Erik warned Dean with an animalistic growl.

“Erik…it’s okay, calm down,” Tamara said with a soothing voice. 

Erik let go and Dean stood up with a smirk. Tamara was given a full on view of his perfect six pack and the v-cut of his waistline. The table had a crack in it and Dean’s bottle of True Blood was knocked over.  Dean dipped his head in farewell at Tamara and glided into the crowd, disappearing from sight. He didn't want to stick around. It seemed as if everyone was immune to violence in Crimson Mist. 

“You seem to be telling everyone that I’m yours,” Tamara muttered. 

“It’s vampire tradition,” Erik explained again with annoyance, “If I pronounce you mine, no one else can try to feed on you.” 

“Feed on me, that’s a delightful phrase,” Tamara said sharply. 

“I’m protecting you,” Erik said, his voice not quite as neutral as usual.

“I don’t need—”

She was stopped short. Erik took her by the chin and he turned her head to him. He looked so hard into her eyes that she thought she had tunnels burned into her brain. 

“You don’t need protection? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“…I was, but then I thought about how you saved my life. And how this killer is murdering women who associate with vampires in any way.”

“…And you shouldn’t have to worry because I’m going to protect you. No one is going to hurt you, Tammy. I promise that. Do ya’ hear me?”

Tamara exhaled a shaky breath and then nodded her head in response. That wasn’t enough for Erik.

“Words?” Erik said.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Tamara glanced at the people at the bar dancing and drinking and on the verge of hooking up. 

“Is that really the only thing on their minds?” Tamara said with a roll of her eyes.

“What are they thinking?” Erik questioned.

“Sex, sex, sex.” 

Every single person in that bar had sex on the brain. 

“What are you thinking about, Tamara?” 

“Not sex.” 

“Ya lyin’ to me?” Erik asked with a playful look.

“I was thinking about dancing but I don’t know if I should.”

Erik stood up from the booth and took off his moto jacket. He held out his hand for Tamara to take and she did. He led her out of the booth and to the dance floor. The sea of people parted for them and they found a spot in the middle of the dance floor under red lights. 

Rihanna- Work  had everyone moving their hips and when Tamara heard her new favorite song it was like liquid adrenaline being injected right into her bloodstream — just enough to make her tingle and start to move her own hips. She wound her hips in a circle, her arms came up and she felt loose and sexy. Erik stood there watching her with commanding eyes and a half smirk that showcased a deep dimple. His skin beneath the lights looked warm to the touch and the contours of his muscular arms had Tamara wishing he would wrap them around her.

While some danced, others stood around watching her move like a temptress with her hands in her hair and her slim-thick body moving with explosive sensuality. Tamara got so lost in the song that she felt as if she were the only one there. She threw her head back and did a little two step, eyes closed and a bite of her bottom lip. When Drake’s verse came up, Tamara placed her hands on her thighs and dipped her hips down to the floor where she did a little slow whine. 

Erik came up behind Tamara and held his hand out so he could guide her back up. She threw her head back to get the hair out of her eyes and giggled when she locked eyes with Erik’s intense expression. The song switched to PARTYNEXTDOOR- Wus Good/Curious

Good, lovin, feel so, numb

Ride me, 'til I'm, 'bout to, cum

I see, you are, 'bout to, clim-

-Ax so, oh, girl, don't be, shy

Is you ready?

Is you ready, baby?

You seem ready

You seem ready, baby

Girl tonight I won't be selfish

It is all for you (yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah)

Girl, my bad, I just can't help it (just can't help it)

Girl, you taste so…

Tamara faced Erik and he took her by the hand, twirling her so that her back was against his torso. Tamara could feel the powerfulness of his body against her feeble frame. She went still, allowing him to guide her movements. One of his cool hands came around to rest on her lower belly and he brought her left arm up to drape over his shoulder. He started doing a slow yet rhythmic two step and with the hand on her stomach he guided her to follow his movements. 

He pressed his face into her neck and Tamara’s heart pounded with nervous excitement. He exhaled through his mouth and then inhaled deeply through his nose and her eyes fluttered shut. The pressure from his hand forced her bubble butt to press into his crotch. The two step transitioned into Erik grinding on her, forcing Tamara to follow the motion of his hips. His free hand wrapped delicately around her neck, using his finger tips to stroke over her pulse. She felt the crotch of her black lace thong grow wetter. 

Hey, shawty, this what I'm here for, I'm ready (I'm ready)

Are you downtown when I'm round town, I'm ready (I'm ready)

Girl, just let me know what's good

Girl, just let me know what's good

Girl, you're beautiful

They won't know, they won't know what we do

Girl, you're beautiful

No, no, they won't know what we do…

The DJ did a dope mix and PARTYNEXTDOOR- Break From Toronto changed the slow motion movements to more of a bend over and pop that ass. Tamara turned to face Erik and she had her arms around his neck and they started grinding their hips against each other. Vibing to the song with smiles on their faces and their foreheads pressed together. 

That smile on your face

Makes it easy to trust you

Those in- (yeah), those in- (yeah, oh), those in- (yeah, oh)

This what 'Sauga feel like in the night time (ooh)

Watch what she do when the light shine (ooh)

Drunk niggas tryna talk in the strip club

Shawty silhouette looks like a dollar sign (ooh)

Caught-caught up (caught up)

That's just how a nigga brought up (brought up)

Blow ones for you loonie ass niggas (ass niggas)

Straight bills for you toonie ass niggas (ass niggas)

M-M-My niggas bigger than the bouncer

Roll up in the bitch still smell like an ounce (like a ounce)

Right quick, right quick

Tight jeans on, so she feels my shit, ayy (feel my shit)

Tell me somethin' good, baby

Tell me somethin', tell me somethin' good, shawty (yeah)

Come bring it to the hood, baby

Bring it-bring it back to hood, shawty (ooh, ooh, ooh)

Tamara suddenly becomes bashful and hides her face against Erik’s chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. 

“Why are you acting so shy right now, baby girl?” 

“I’ve never done this–dancing on a guy before!”

“C’mere…”

The song changed to something Tamara wasn’t familiar with but it was definitely bounce music. Erik knew the song and he grabbed Tamara by her hips, turning her again and he arched her back. She gasped in shock, one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder keeping her in that position. It was more of an ass shaking song. Jealous, envious women watched Tamara twerk on Erik, wishing it were them being bent over. 

Tamara looked back at him and his lips parted and she could see his fangs. His tongue dragged over the pointy tips, lips looking moist, eyes unblinking and scanning her body dangerously. She flipped her hair over and brought one hand above her head, ass bouncing on his stiffness poking her in the booty. She swayed her hips with each bounce, feeling tipsy and getting lost in the music, mistaking his iron hard dick for a nonexistent belt. Erik held her hand up and let her do her thing, tilting his head to watch the way her ass moved in that cinching dress. 

“Damn,” Erik spoke gruffly against her ear,“you got some ass on you, girl…best fuckin’ dancer I’d ever seen.” 

Tamara blushes, “Thank you!” 

“I ain’t know you could make it move like that, ma!”

“Now you know!” Tamara shouted over the music. 

When the song was over, Tamara couldn’t look Erik in the eye. He was all over her. He pulled her into his embrace with a hand on her ass and his other hand smoothing her hair out of her face. He brought his lips to her ear, the hand on her ass now rubbing up and down her back.

“You wanna get outta here?” He whispered in her ear.

She looked up at him with a bat of her lashes. He had a hungry look in his eyes.

“Yeah…” she spoke with a feathery voice. 

They had driven back to Tamara’s home already, but Erik had Tamara straddling him in his back seat. They had been kissing for a while now, Erik’s white beater off and the straps to Tamara’s dress hanging from her shoulders. He had her hair in his right fist and his left hand rubbing all over her ass. Tamara combed her fingers through his locs, amazed at how soft his hair is. Heads swiveling from left to right and they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

“Erik,” Tamara looked down at him, “I want you too.” 

Erik’s onyx eyes blazed with desire. He pulled her in and his lips found hers again. Harder, wetter, and maybe this could lead to even more. Tamara wanted it badly and Erik wanted it more than her. He’d been waiting to have her. Waiting for his moment to make her his. He was so close. She still needed to open up, and Tamara wasn’t an easy girl. He loved that about her. 

Tamara broke the kiss again which frustrated Erik.

“I have to go. I didn’t expect to be out this late.”

“Work?” 

Tamara nodded her head solemnly. 

“Call out,” Erik tilted his head at her with a bite of his lower lip, “For me?” 

“I can’t. I picked this shift up.” Tamara whined.

“What shift is it, Tammy?”

“…night.”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Aight, ma. How ‘bout I come see ya’ tomorrow? We can go for a drive…I’m staying here for the weekend to check on my new place…”

Tamara looked at him with confusion, “New place?”

“A smaller home away from home basically. St. Tammany is where I wanna have a private place for myself. I purchased a home right across the cemetery and it’s being fixed up as we speak.”

“Do you have other homes all over the world?” Tamara asked.

“I do…one in Jamaica, Haiti, Cuba, Nigeria, LA, New York, Miami, St. Thomas…”

“Wow.” Tamara was amazed. 

“Hm,” Erik chuckled, “I’d like to show you them one day…”

“Tamara climbed off of Erik’s lap and sat next to him. He refused to let her open her own door. He left the car and jogged around to open the door for her, holding his hand out for her to take. Erik picked her up and twirled her around again before placing her on her feet. 

“Goodnight, Tammy,” Erik whispered before giving her one last kiss.

Tamara stood on her tip toes and rested her cheek against his for a moment. 

“Thanks for taking me.”

Erik grabbed her hand, swinging it as they walked up to the house. Within the porch, Tamara opened her door while Erik waited for her to make it inside. She looked back at him over her shoulder and waved, Erik returning the gesture. Tamara closed her door and pressed her back against it.

Meanwhile, Erik was driving to his nearly finished home. It was an Acadian style home which is a true representation of the Louisiana style homes. Influenced by French and Canadian styles, these houses feature steeply pitched roofs with dormer windows, and large covered porches or galleries, often wrapping around the house. Acadian homes often have raised foundations to help protect from flooding, and the exteriors have shutters and decorative brackets. Interiors often have high ceilings with exposed wood beams, and are designed for open, airy living in the hot and humid Louisiana climate.

The interior is old world gothic and Victorian while his other home is more minimalist with steel. He had a new coffin for Lana and himself installed in the basement while the rooms had beds with automatic windows that were timed to open during nightfall. Truthfully, Erik purchased this home secretly to be away from the other vampires and Tia. He wanted to spend time with Tamara as much as he could without everyone knowing where he was. Lana much preferred the other home, so Erik would only spend time there if work was needed to be done. 

He walked around the luxury double-staircase foyer with optimism, the polished maple hardwood beneath his feet causing his footsteps to sound more pronounced. Deep purple, black, and gray decorated the first level. Each of the five bed rooms has its own complimentary color such as maroon, and navy blue but black will always be the main scheme. He had a feeling Tamara didn’t like his home back in New Orleans because it  held a memory she didn’t want to recall. They could make new memories here.

Erik took a seat on a black sofa throne chair in solid mahogany wood, Crystal tufting, and a gloss black finish. His black fireplace was handcrafted to look like skulls giving it a more haunting look. He reminisced about the evening, unable to stop himself from smiling. Tamara looked stunning. He loved when she dressed up. He couldn’t get over how beautiful her hair is. She looked amazing. Dancing with her made him feel alive again. Kissing her made him fall in love with the act all over again. As much as he wanted to make love to her, he will be patient. 

Erik wanted the time to be right for her. She’s a virgin and that made it harder for Erik to give into his urges. He’ll have plenty of time to fuck her, but first he needed to take things slow and ease her into what sex with him will be like. Erik stood up to head up the stairs to the master bedroom. When he entered the room decorated in black and gold, Erik activated the automatic windows all over the home and undressed. Naked, he climbed in bed beneath the silk black sheets and stared up at the high ceiling. 

Erik shut his eyes and a sensation overcame him. Eyes remaining closed, Erik could sense Tamara dreaming. It was like a deep psychological bond and he could feel it growing stronger. Since Tamara drank his blood the night he saved her life, it created an eternal bond/spirit union between them. He can feel the strong sexual and romantic energy, and it was difficult for him not to go to her and fulfill what she truly desires. 

He couldn’t see exactly what she was dreaming about, and he desperately wished he could. She was in distress, tossing and turning, unable to peacefully sleep because of the nature of her sex dreams. 

Mmmmmahhhhunh…

Erik’s eyes shot open. 

Was this really a dream or…

Erik…Erik…Erik…

He sat up, silk sheets pooling around his toned hips.

Erik rolled his neck. Every muscle in his body flexed.

Yes…right there…don’t stop…please…

He couldn’t take it. 

Erik was out of his bed and with only his jeans on, he sped out of the house and across the cemetery to Tamara’s.

Back at Tamara’s, within her bedroom, evening air trickling in, Tamara is dressed in a white babydoll lingerie nightgown, her curls resting on top of her head with a satin scrunchie. The cotton sheets are kicked to the foot of the bed, her legs spread open and one hand between her legs, rubbing her clit. Hard nipples pointed to the ceiling, Tamara has her eyes closed, envisioning her vampire between her legs devouring her. The way he moved his tongue over hers when they kissed let her know that he knew how to use it well.

“Fuck,” Tamara moaned softly. 

She brought two fingers down to her entrance and sank them deeply inside. She couldn’t believe how wet she was. Tamara sat up on one elbow, knees to her chest, toes curled, and bottom lip between her teeth. 

Visions of his black eyes staring up at her from between her legs has her walls quivering. 

“Eat me…taste me…” 

She felt her body begin to tense up. Tamara’s mouth dropped open and she came all over her fingers unexpectedly. She needed more. That was her second orgasm and she knew she could give more. 

“I can’t stop…” she moaned.

This is the most she’d ever masturbated.

“I’m so wet for you…”

Just when she was about to attack her clit with her fingers again, she could hear a sound at her window. Sitting up, Tamara fixed her nightgown and climbed down from her bed. Opening her curtains, she jumped back in shock at Erik looking up at her. He’d been throwing broken branches at her window. 

“Erik?” 

“Can I come up?” He asked.

Tamara looked from left to right before her eyes fell on him again.

“Yes. I’ll get the door—”

Erik had scaled the wall and crawled into the room. 

Tamara was stunned. 

“How did you?—”

Erik put a finger to her lips. He looked down at her through the curtain of locs against his forehead. Tamara noticed that he wasn’t wearing any shoes and he was shirtless. Erik inhaled and he followed the scent to Tamara’s fingers.

“Erik?—”

He grabbed her hand and sucked on her fingers. Tamara’s breath hitched. He sucked hard, Tamara growing weak in the knees. 

“You taste…so good…”

He opened his eyes and Tamara could see a red ring around his pitch black irises. 

Tamara looked up at Erik confused. 

“I could hear you…playing with yourself.”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Tamara looked away from him, embarrassed to even meet his piercing gaze.

“How? Were you standing outside my window the entire time?” She asked with a timid voice. 

“Nah,” Erik touched her cheek, “Remember the night I saved your life?”

“Yes,” Tamara leaned into his touch.

“You drank my blood. When you do that, it creates a bond between the vampire and the human. It’s similar to the bond of a maker and progeny but the only difference is I can’t call on you.”

“Really?” Tamara was shocked, “So that means…”

“Yes,” Erik smirked, “I know you’ve been dreaming about me. At least up until now…”

Tamara sat down on her bed and Erik sat next to her. 

“You were pleasuring yourself.” Erik said.

Tamara toyed with the lace trimming on her nightgown. 

“I was,” She shot him a quick glance before looking back down, “This is so embarrassing.”

Erik scooted closer, lifting her chin.

“Tell me about your fantasy. Please?”

Tamara looked him in the eyes and exhaled.

“I was…fantasizing about you…between my legs…”

Her natural pheromones smelled so good it triggered his fangs to pop out. Tamara flinched slightly but soon she reached out to touch one of his fangs. 

“Tamara,” Erik grabbed her hand, “Can I watch you?” 

“W—watch me?” She felt her face heat up.

“I’ll sit right here and watch you touch yourself.”

After an internal struggle, she slowly  laid back and nervously looked up at Erik.

“I can’t sleep when you keep moaning in my ear.” Erik said.

Tamara fixed the straps to her nightgown and one shaky hand came down to lift her nightgown. He couldn’t see her pussy when she dropped her legs open, but he could see the wetness she created in her white panties. She turned her head away from Erik, eyes closed while her fingers rubbed slow circles around her clit.

Erik sat there with his fists clenched, eyes low and his mouth watering to taste her. He’d never wanted a pussy in his mouth this bad since his wife. She smelled out of this word. A pleasant floral scent wafted from her skin and she smelled like honey in between. She whimpered, refusing to moan, and it frustrated Erik. He could see her hand moving rapidly. And Erik could hear how gushy and wet she was. 

“Fuck, Tamara, you sound so sexy…it’s okay to moan…it’s just me and you in here…you look so beautiful…”

She turned her head towards him finally. The tops of her breasts were teasing his eyes. She was pleasantly horny and being such a naughty girl. She licked her lips at him and that pretty mouth fell open. 

“That pussy is so wet…how do you want me to eat that pussy, baby?”

“I…”

Her legs shook and Erik grunted.

“That was my third orgasm.” Tamara giggled into her pillow.

“Take your panties off.”

Tamara sat up and slipped her panties off. 

“Give them to me.”

She slid them over to Erik and he snatched them up, smelling the soaked crotch of her panties. She watched him, aroused at how much he loved her smell. He placed them within the pocket of his jeans and looked over at her. Tamara gained enough confidence to place her fingers against his lips. Erik licked them while his eyes were locked on hers. 

“Tamara…”

She tilted her head at him. Erik’s cold hand reached out to stroke the gold anklet on her left ankle.

“What does the E stand for?”

“It’s for my middle name. Elicia.” 

“That’s pretty,” His fingers dragged up the back of her calf, “pretty just like you…”

“Erik?” 

“Just say the word, Tamara, and I’ll taste you. I’ll eat you and make you cum…”

She stared at him with desperation. Erik waited, his eyes searching hers. 

“Yes,” She whispered. 

Say less. Erik had her on her back in top speed. He climbed on top of her and kissed her deeply, passionately, hungrily. Tamara raked her fingers through his locs, pulling on them whenever Erik would tongue her down. He used his fingers to gently pull the straps of her nightgown down one by one, revealing her c cup breasts with perfectly round areolas and small nipples. He studied them closely — every blemish, freckle, and mole. 

“Beautiful,” Erik looked at her, “You’re beautiful, Tammy.”

He let her hair down and continued to trail his kisses down her neck. Tamara moaned softly, thrusting her chest up. Erik kisses down the side of her neck, over her jawline, between her breasts and then each nipple. Tamara cupped the back of his head when he finally wrapped his lips around a nipple. Her head went back and she whimpered repeatedly.

The pounding of her heart was deafening. Erik couldn’t stop it if he could. The veins in her breasts aided in the hardening of her nipples against his tongue. He imagined the taste of her blood on her breasts. The constant cries and whimpers had his dick so hard. Erik popped a nipple out of his mouth and Tamara looked down at him.

“Why did you stop?” She fussed between breaths.

“I want you to take this dress off…please?”

Erik wasn’t used to saying please.

“Okay,” Tamara sat up, breasts mouthwatering.

She lifted the nightgown over her head and sat it on the bed next to her. Erik’s eyes dragged down her body. She had the softest most delicate skin. The most beautiful brown skin. Erik could see the top of her pussy and it was completely hairless. Smooth like satin. 

“Lay back for me, baby girl.”

Tamara made herself comfortable on her elbows. Erik was kneeling above her with her legs pressed together. 

“I’m nervous,” Tamara admitted.

Erik kisses both of her knees to relax her.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Open up for me, Tammy.”

She chewed on her bottom lip before spreading her thighs slowly. He could see her legs trembling. The more she opened her legs, the stronger the smell of her sex. It took all of his supernatural strength to hold back from forcing her legs open and pinning them back at the ankles with brunt force. He had to remind himself that she is inexperienced with this. He had to ease her into the pleasures. 

When her legs finally fell open, Erik let out a deep groan. It was possible to have the most perfect pussy. Fat, juicy, and a work of art that needed to be a canvas painting in his room. The wishbone shape of her inner folds were engorged with her arousal and he could literally see the remnants of cum leaking from her tight opening. He could kiss this pussy all night long. He needed all that pink in his mouth right now.

“Mmm…mmm…mmm.” 

Erik dipped his head between her legs and started kissing her outer lips. She watched him with curiosity, sweet moans filling the room. He resurfaced, looking up at her with deep desire. 

“Thank you for giving me the honor to eat this beautiful pussy.” Erik said.

He used his entire mouth and began sucking. She’d never felt this before. It was intense. He sucked everywhere. She sat there on her elbows watching him with timid eyes and parted lips. Whenever he would suck on her clit, Tamara would whimper with a tremble of her inner thighs. His tongue flicked and dragged all over her pussy, loving the way it tasted. 

“Please don’t stop,” Tamara whispered.

She placed one hand on the back of his head when he was back on her clit again. Tamara was startled by Erik tapping her wet entrance with his finger. She sounded like a puddle down there. 

“Erik,” Tamara thrust her hips, tilting her pussy into his mouth further. He stopped sucking her clit to look at her.

“Whatchu want?” Erik asked. 

Tamara looked anywhere but at him, “I want you to finger me…”

He really wanted to stuff her with some big dick.

“You gotta look at me and ask, Tammy.”

She looked at him, “I want you to finger me.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.”

With his middle finger, he took his time sinking in. She instantly clamped down on his finger. When Erik went to pull his finger back before pushing it back in, her walls were acting like a suction. He could only imagine how that would feel on his dick. Mmm.

“You’re so tight, baby…”

He couldn’t believe how wet and tight she was. He tried adding his ring finger and Tamara hissed. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

“Your fingers are thicker than mine.”

“I’ll go slower.”

She relaxed as best as she could. Erik needed to add another finger. The more she opened up, the easier it would be to fit his dick in. He’s girthy with length and a fat tip to match. Too much for Tamara to handle right now. 

“Tammy…you gotta keep your legs open and out of the way.”

Or I’ll do it for you

“I can’t help it–oh my goddess—”

He had two fingers knuckle deep. Erik wasted no time pumping. He kissed along her inner thighs and watched her face. She had her eyes closed and her head thrown back. Her breasts were bouncing and her hair was frizzy and wild. She was mesmerizing.

“You are making a big fuckin’ mess on my fingers, baby…look at this pretty pussy.”

Tamara watched Erik finger her. In and out, in and out, she moaned his name and all over his hand she came. Erik savagely licked his hand and the cum from her pussy. Sitting up, Erik with his speed pinned her legs back. He smirked down at her before going in to eat her again. 

“Erik,” Tamara moaned. 

She didn’t want him to stop. He had her clit between his lips again and she could feel herself getting close again. His primal eyes were locked on her hazel eyes and it was the most erotic experience. He even did it when he flicked his tongue over her clit at top speed. It felt like a vibrator. She stared at him with tears of pleasure rolling down her cheeks and a strangled moan escaping her mouth. Her toes flexed towards the ceiling and she began to convulse. Her struggling moans were music to his ears.

He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy, he sucked her up everywhere, he licked and licked until he covered every inch of that pussy. His fingers went deep and he sucked them dry just to do it again. His princess was famished. Erik looked at her with his lips dripping with her cum and what would make this even better is if he could only bite into her.

Sleep overcame her within seconds and Erik watched her sleep for an hour before he covered her with her blanket and kissed her cheek. She had enough for one night and needed her rest. He fixed his erection and patted his back pocket to make sure her panties were still there. He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to get some sleep himself. The day was approaching and he began to feel weak. 

Erik climbed out of the window and jumped down, landing on his feet. With one final look up at her window, he sped off into the night and back to his new home. 

Nana Sylvia was sitting in the living room the following afternoon, her stories on the TV and a fresh glass of homemade lavender lemonade in her hand. She had one elbow propped up on the back of the couch, watching Tamara pounce around the house like she was on cloud 9. Now, she’s dressed for her shift, same heavenly smile on her face. 

“You’ve been in a really great mood, Sugar. The date was lovely?”

Tamara took a seat next to her grandmother for a second so she could enjoy a glass of lavender lemonade herself. 

“It was great, Nana. I had a lovely time.”

Tamara smiled into her glass.

“I hope he’ll still talk to The Descendants next Friday evening about The Revolt.” 

Tamara forgot to confirm that with him last night. She was so distracted with the kissing and the head…

“He’s stopping by Marco’s tonight. I’ll ask him then, okay?” 

“Thank you, baby,” Nana Sylvia shut the TV off and stood up, “Let me gon’ on and get myself together. A friend of mine is taking me to the farmer’s market in about an hour.”

“I should get going too.” 

Tamara grabbed both glasses and washed them while Nana Sylvia went to freshen up. She twirled the sponge inside one of the glasses, staring into space. She kept replaying last night’s events. She kept repeating the way Erik ate her pussy and fingered her. Despite the blush on her face, her legs are weak and her pussy is sore. She took a soothing bath and it helped a little. If this is what it felt like after fingering, she couldn’t imagine the discomfort when they finally have sex. 

She quickly rinsed the glasses out and sat them upside down in the dish rack, drying her hands off on her shorts before grabbing her work bag and leaving the house. It was almost 3 in the afternoon and she had to hurry so she wouldn’t be late. In her beat up car, she started it up and drove off. Her eyes combed the trees across the cemetery to see if she could make out his new home but the trees were so overgrown it acted like a wall blocking it from view. 

For an afternoon, Marco’s Bar and Grill was surprisingly busy. Tamara parked in her usual spot near the back door and slipped inside after Terry came out to empty trash. The country music filled her ears as Tamara combed through a pile of clean aprons, folding one in half before tying it around her slender waist. She moved carefully to the front of the house and clocked in, looking up to find Tara at the beer tap filling a glass for Detective Bellefleur. 

“This is your third beer, Andy. Aren’t you on duty?” 

Andy mumbled something before walking away back to his seat. 

“Fuckin’ drunk red neck—Tammy!”

Tara squeezed Tamara tight.

“Bitch, I thought you were off today?”

Tamar grabbed a note pad and pin from a basket. 

“I was. But since everything with Dawn and the new girl’s availability, Marco asked if I could work tonight.”

“How ya grandmama and dem’?”

“All is good with Nana. Lloyd I hadn’t seen in almost two days. The police won’t leave him alone.”

“I’m guessin’ that’s why Andy is sticking ‘round. They've been questioning a lot of men in this area. I just think Andy has it out for Lloyd.”

“How ya’ figure?” Tamara questioned.

“He’s envious. Lloyd is handsome, in shape, and a pussy magnet. Andy is the opposite of that.”

“Well, if that’s the reason then Andy can go fuck himself. Can’t control being ugly and unwanted.”

Tara laughed boisterously. 

“What side does Arlene have?”

“She’s taking care of this area.”

Tamara walked over to her side around near the pool table and locked eyes with Marco chatting it up with a regular. Marco’s chocolate brown eyes locked with hers and he winked at her. He’s wearing a flannel with the sleeves rolled up and a white T-shirt underneath, faded light blue jeans, and his lucky pair of cowboy boots. His usually low cut with waves had grown out some and it’s sprinkled with gray hair to match his stubble.

Tamara walked up to an older woman she recognized but didn’t remember her name. She’s one of Nana's friends. Tamara took her order and walked around to the other tables to see if anyone needed anything. Back at the bar, Tamara went to the server’s window and called off orders to the cooks. She blew a kiss to Lafayette and took her place next to Tara with her drink tray ready. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” Tamara fussed. 

Tara noticed how she kept checking her phone and fidgeting like she was growing impatient. It was bothering Tara so much that she had to stop what she was doing to call Tamara out on it.

“Girl, what the hell is wrong wit’ you?!”

“I’m sorry,” Tamara smiled, “I just can’t wait to see him.”

“That vampire?” Tara asked with disgust.

“Don’t do that, Tara. I really like him…”

Tamara never felt so giddy. 

“What do you like about him?”

Tamara couldn’t contain her blushing.

“He protects me, he’s an amazing kisser, he can dance and I love to dance. He’s smart, charming, strong…among other things.”

Tamara giggled at Tara’s expression.

“Bitch…you let him hit?”

“No–no. Not yet at least,” Tamara looked around before getting closer to Tara, “he went down on me.”

“What?!” Tara shouted. 

Eyes fell on them and Tamara had to shush her. 

“What? Tamara Elicia Bordelon!”

She couldn’t stop laughing. 

“I can’t believe…” Tara raised her brows, “You nasty girl…”

“I’m still not over it. Tara…it was amazing.”

Tamara leaned against the counter and closed her eyes with contentment. 

“I can’t wait to see him,” Tamara said with an angelic voice.

“Why don’t you snap out of it and take these drinks. You don’t want Marco thinkin’ something is wrong. This conversation ain’t over, Tammy!”

Tamara took her drink tray and went back to work. After clearing her tray, she slipped past Detective Bellefleur’s table. 

“Tammy! I need a word with ya!”

Tamara stopped and looked at him with annoyance.

“Whatever you want to discuss can wait until I’m finished working.” Tamara sassed.

“Where has that brother of yours been? Out getting himself into trouble?”

Tamara sat her tray on the table and leaned in to Andy.

“Did you just interrogate me while I’m at work and you’re off duty?” 

Andy’s pudgy face went red with anger.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Andy. My brother didn’t do this—”

“And that vampire?” He argued.

“AND Erik. Did you go to other people’s jobs and question them or did they come down to the station?”

“I offered for ya’ to come to the station—”

“And I’ve been busy. Still doesn’t give ya’ the right to ask me questions for everyone to hear.”

“When I’m detective it does!” Andy fired back. 

(This freak and her vampire know something I can feel it)

(She’s so defensive. I bet she knows her brother is guilty and she’s covering for him)

(Ever since that vampire came to St. Tammany there’s been nothing but murders)

(Wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up dead next)

Tamara stormed off and bumped past Marco accidentally to get to his office. She slammed the door shut and the bar seemed to go still after that. 

“Nothin’ to see here!” Marco yelled.

Tara rushed from behind the bar and she was making a beeline for Andy.

“You son of a bitch! How dare you—”

“Tara….calm down, go back to the bar. I’ll handle this.”

Tara’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. She looked at Marco and then back at Andy before going to comfort Tamara. 

“Andy. What the hell did you do to my waitress?”

Andy gave a nonchalant shrug in response.

“You’re cut off. No more beer. It’s time for you to go.”

“You can’t throw me out! I’m the law!”

Andy slammed his beefy fist down on the table. The kitchen doors swung open and Lafayette and Andy’s cousin, Terry, came over to the table. 

“Andy, c’mon cuz. You gotta go. I already called Auntie. She knows you’re coming.” 

“This is some bullshit,” Andy stood up and pulled out his wallet, slapping down two crumpled up bills, “Fuck all of you!”

Marco, Lafayette, and Terry watched Andy storm out of the bar. 

“Let me go see how Tamara’s doing.”

Marco walked to the back and when he approached his office door, he knocked twice and waited. He could hear shuffling and then Tara opened the door with a hand on her hip.

“Is his drunk ass gone?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Marco slipped past Tara, “Tammy?”

Tamara was lying on his leather brown sofa with her knees to her chest. Tara left them alone and shut the door. Marco sat next to her and started stroking her arm with his hand. 

“It’s gonna be alright. He’s gone now.”

“I could hear everyone else’s thoughts…”

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. He could tell she’d been crying.

“Andy pissed me off so bad that I let my guard down. People really think Lloyd is responsible. They’re calling him a murderer. They think Erik put a curse on the town.”

“Tammy, you can’t let these people get to you. All they do is talk, talk, talk. Nothin’ else better to do.”

Marco took his thumb to wipe away her tears. He studied her beautiful face with longing and his eyes fell to her lips. He desperately wanted to kiss her. 

“I am worried about ya’. I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to ya’”

Tamara gave Marco a gentle smile before hugging him. Marco slowly wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his nose into her mane and inhaled. Hibiscus and coconut. It was lovely.

“Thanks for always checking in on me—”

Marco pressed his lips against Tamara’s soft lips. The sound of their lips smacking when he broke the kiss to look at her had his stomach fluttering. Tamara stared at him with shock, unsure of what to say at that moment.

“Say something, Tammy.”

She turned away from Marco and stood up. Marco followed her and waited for her to speak. 

“Why—why did you kiss me?” She questioned.

“Because I love you, Tammy—”

“I’m Erik’s.” 

Marco closed his eyes. 

“This never happened, okay?”

Tamara rushed out of the office and Marco kicked the side of his desk angrily. 

Tamara paced back and forth outside of his office door. She couldn’t believe her boss just kissed her. And he loves her? She took a deep breath in and held it for three seconds before walking back out to the front. When she got there, Tara was at the bar mixing drinks and there stood Luke with his tall, brawny frame. He was wearing a distressed muscle tee and denim cut offs with his work boots on his feet. His tawny skin was covered in sweat and he had his cap on backwards, the Bordelon fishing logo printed on it. 

“Hey, Tammy,” He smiled at her, “How’s everything?”

Tamara returned the smile and nodded her head that everything is good. 

“Marco had to get Andy out of here. He was being real disrespectful questioning Tammy about Lloyd. Where is Lloyd anyway?”

“He’s laid up with some chick. I covered for him today at the dock. I’m ‘bout to go cook up some crawfish for my mama and dem.”

Tamara was too distracted to even pay attention. Marco walked out and he glanced over at her with sad eyes before entering the kitchen. 

“Tammy?” Luke called out to her.

“Yeah—sorry–I gotta get back to work. Good seeing ya’ Luke.”

“Hey,” Luke grabbed her hand gently, “Don’t forget about lookin’ into a new car. I spotted your car out back and we really should get ya’ a new one.” 

“Shit, I forgot all about that—I’ll let you know.”

She squeezed Luke’s hand affectionately and walked off.

“You got it bad Luke,” Tara teased.

“And what about you and Lloyd?” Luke asked.

“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me and Lloyd!”

“Mhm,” Luke took a seat at the bar. He grabbed the neck of his bottle of Bayou Peche IPA and took a swig while his eyes never left Tamara, “I’d like to take her out sometime. Wine and dine her. Spoil her.”

“Not if your mama can help it,” Tara laughed.

“Ain’t my mama business.”

Tara shakes her head and walks away to the other end of the bar to make drinks.

As the day turned into night, the bar became overwhelmingly busy. Lloyd showed up with Luke and a couple of their friends. Tamara noticed a pretty girl clinging to Lloyd’s arm and Tamara had never seen this girl around before. She’s 5’5, brown skin, sandy brown hair styled in a sleek bun, and a tight lime green dress hugging her curves. She was covered in tattoos and piercings and had this commanding energy about her. Tara spotted Lloyd and when her eyes fell on the girl she rolled her eyes and went back to yelling at some drunk man.

“I’ll be out with your hamburger and fries,” Tamara rushed over to the servers window, “Hamburger with Cajun fries!”

“Coming!” Lafayette shouted. 

The doors opened up and Tamara turned around just in time to see Erik strolling in. He wore a black muscle tee with a graphic of Billie Holiday on it. He had on gray denim joggers and on his feet gray and black Jordan’s. He accessorized with his favorite tungsten jewelry and added multilayered leather bracelets to his wrists. He stood there, staring Tamara up and down before curling a finger for her to come to him. She walked up to him and Erik tilted her chin up before leaning down to kiss her. 

Everyone in that bar watched him tongue her down. Tara had to remake a beer because she had overflowed it. Lloyd and Luke watched with disapproval. Marco was furious. And the other patrons whispered. Tamara refused to let her shields down. 

“That was unexpected,” she whispered.

Erik smirked, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Tamara tucked her chin and batted her lashes bashfully. 

Erik grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. Tamara’s lips parted and she felt her eyes glaze over with desire. 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” 

Tamara slipped her hand out of Erik’s and he tapped her on the booty with a bite of his lip for good measure. As he walked with his sinful gait, his onyx eyes scanned the bar. People seemed to cower beneath his gaze, some were in a trance, others were angry with his presence. Erik didn’t give a fuck about any of it. He flopped down in a vacant booth seat with his legs swinging and his arms draped over the back of the  seat. Tamara brought him out a chilled bottle of O negative and placed it in front of him.

“Figured you might be thirsty,” She smiled at him.

Erik sat up and with his hand he snaked it up the back of her leg and over her ass. Tamara rocked back and forth with a big smile. 

“Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, I meant to ask. Would you still be able to talk to The Descendants at the church next Friday evening? Nana wanted me to ask.” 

“Of course.” Erik opened his True Blood.

“Okay,” Tamara lingered, “I’ll be back to check on you.” 

Erik chuckled.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Go ahead.”

Tamara turned to leave with a pout. She made it back to the bar and locked eyes with Tara who was giving her a ‘we need to talk’ look. The doors opened with a hard shove and in walked the three vampires Tamara dreaded ever seeing again.

Diane, Bruce, and Woo.

They walked in like they owned the place. Tamara glanced over at Erik nervously and he was already looking at her. All three vampires made their way over to Erik and made themselves comfortable. Tamara gathered courage and strolled over to the table. Erik’s eyes shot up at her and he didn’t look happy about her coming up to the table. 

“If it isn’t the pretty little human!” Diane laughed, “So, this is where you work? How adorable.”

Bruce and Woo laughed.

“Can I get ya’ anything?” Tamara asked, clicking her pen.

“Already got our meals covered, darling. But thanks for being so sweet.” Bruce said.

“Erik,” Diane reached out to stroke his hand, “We’ve been looking for you. Wanna get out of here and have some fun like the old days?”

“Got a real treat for you back at Tia’s,” Woo said.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a request?” Erik said.

Tamara could sense something was off.

“Nothing suspicious going on! We just miss you,” Diane drapes her long leg over Erik and licks the side of his face, “Why don’t you come and play with us?”

Tamara squeezed her notepad hard. She glared at Diane for the audacity. 

“Get your leg off of him.” Tamara spoke with rage.

Woo and Bruce exchanged looks. 

“Excuse me?” Diane turned and looked at Tamara as if she lost her mind, “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Back off, Diane,” Erik warned.

Diane looked from Tamara to Erik and laughed.

“Aww. You two are together?! How cute!”

Tamara’s eyes twitched. She looked at Erik who was just sitting there allowing Diane to throw herself all over him. What was he doing?

“Erik?” Tamara folded her arms.

“Why don’t you get back to waiting tables, honey.” 

“There’s a stain on that one there,” Bruce pointed to the table behind her.

Tamara didn’t hide the hurt in her eyes. Erik clenched his jaw and held her gaze. 

“Why don’t we go pay Tia a little visit.” Diane whispered to Erik, “She’d be happy to know you’re doing just fine with your little obsession.” 

Tamara stood confused. The name Tia stood out to her. She locked eyes with Erik again to see if he would speak but to her disappointment, he remained silent. What was he so afraid of? He’s older and stronger than all three of them. He could take them all out with a snap of his fingers. 

“Erik, what’s going on?” Tamara asked.

“Go back to work, Tammy.” Erik replied with a stern voice.

Diane, Bruce, and Woo slid out of the booth, looking down on Tamara. Erik stood up and Diane wrapped an arm around his waist. Tamara glared at him and Diane cocked her head to the side, studying Tamara’s face with amusement. 

“It’s okay, little human chick, he’ll only be gone a little while.”

Diane’s hand strokes Tamara’s cheek and she slapped her hand away causing Diane to grip her wrist. Erik grabbed Diane by the back of her neck and flung her across the room where she landed on her back hard. Lloyd, Luke, and Marco had pool sticks in their hands, making their way over to them. Bruce and Woo turned on Erik, crouching down in an attack stance with their fangs. Diane moved with accelerated speed and snatched Tamara up by her hair. 

She screamed, gaining Erik’s attention who tried rushing to her aid but Bruce body slammed him on the table, breaking it in the process. Erik expertly reversed so that he was on top of Bruce and he lifted Bruce up by his neck with a sharp piece of broken wood to his chest, ready to strike. Woo tried to lunge at Erik but Erik was too swift, knocking Woo back so hard he slid to the other side of the bar. Erik stabbed Bruce in the chest which was enough to wound him and back hand slapped Diane so hard blood splattered. 

“Hey! Back off my sister, fanger!” Lloyd shouted with rage.

“I think it’s time for y’all to leave!” Marco yelled.

The vampire trio looked at the sticks in their hands and laughed.

“You can’t be serious? You pathetic humans! What the fuck is a pool stick gonna do—”

“Wanna find out?” Luke said.

All at once, everyone got up and scurried to the front. Lloyd pulled out his gun and pointed it at Woo’s head.

“I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head!” Lloyd shouted.

“Just leave, we don’t want no trouble, Tammy,” Marco motioned for her to come to him, “C’mere.” 

She took one step and Erik gripped her wrist. Tamara tried to pull her arm back. Lloyd turned his gun on Erik.

“Let go of me!” Tamara screamed.

Erik looked at her with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Tammy!” He yelled.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER!” 

Lloyd pulled the trigger and Erik was swift on his feet in a blink of an eye, snatching up Lloyd’s gun. His fangs popped out and he was chest to chest with Lloyd, eyes wild and menacing.

“Stop it, Erik!” Tamara shouted with tears in her eyes.

“You stay the fuck away from her or it’s war,” Lloyd growled.

Erik smirked dangerously at him. 

“She’s mine.” 

“This is fun,” Diane said with a vicious smirk.

“She don’t belong to you,” Luke grabbed Tamara’s hand.

“Get the fuck out! All of ya’!!!!”

Erik held his hand out for Tamara to take and she refused to go with him. 

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” Tamara spoke with a tremble in her voice.

“This is getting boring. You coming or not, Stevens?” Woo said while inspecting his nails. Bruce wasn’t too happy about Erik still tagging along after being stabbed. 

“I was hoping for more blood to shed! I could use some fresh blood,” Diane spoke excitedly. 

“Just go,” Tamara wiped her tears away. “Fucking go!”

Erik backed away towards the door and Diane, Bruce, and Woo were right behind him. They dashed at lightning speed out of the bar and Tamara broke down. 

“Tammy,” Lloyd wrapped his arms around his sister, “It’s okay…you’re safe.”

“That was some scary shit,” Luke had a hand to his chest.

“He showed his true colors. How could he put her in danger like that?” Marco said.

“Because he’s a vampire. They don’t have feelings. All they know is to kill. It was only a matter of time before he tried to attack Tammy.”

Tamara shoved away from Lloyd and ran to the back of the bar. She grabbed her things in a rush, so ready to get out of there and away from everyone. She couldn’t understand why Erik would disrespect her like that? Embarrass her in front of everyone? 

“Hey, Tammy,” Tara and Lafayette wrapped their arms around her, “Shhh, it’s okay, girl. I’m so sorry.”

“I just need to get out of here.”

“I’ll take her home.”

Lloyd and Luke walked up with Marco trailing behind.

“I can drive.” Tamara argued.

“Not that piece of shit. I’m takin ya’ back to Nana’s. Let’s go.”

Luke grabbed her things and walked out behind Lloyd. Marco rubbed her back before watching her walk out of the bar. Luke helped her in the back seat and she laid down with tears streaming down her face. Just when everything was going so well. Maybe it was for the best. 

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[punkrockmlchael]

12 Days of Gareth Emerson 2024- Day 11

Day 11: Christmas Eve [Gareth Emerson x GN!Reader]

Check out all the prompts and read all the other days here!

Warnings: Pure Fluff, Pre-Established Relationship, Gareth has younger twin sisters, leaving out cookies for Santa, playing Santa, mentions of starting a family, gn!reader, no use of pronouns

Synopsis: Staying at the Emerson's on Christmas Eve means not only helping Gareth's younger sisters put out the decorated cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for his reindeer, but also helping Gareth make it look like Santa came this year for Christmas.

Word Count: 1.1k

-

“Gareth! Gareth! Gareth!” 

The sound of your boyfriend’s name was all that was said the entire night after dinner on Christmas Eve.

“Yes, princesses, what’s up?” Gareth finally asked, looking at his younger twin sisters, Gracie and Gabby. The two six year olds looked at each other before looking back up at their brother, a matching classic Emerson grin on both of their faces. 

“Mommy said you’d help us decorate cookies for Santa!” Gracie said, hugging one of Gareth’s legs.

“She said you’d help us too!” Gabby added, hugging one of your legs as she looked up at you with her big blue eyes. You looked down at her and smiled, your heart melting as you saw the two mini Emersons begging both you and Gareth to help them decorate cookies for Santa.

“I would absolutely love to help you both decorate cookies for Santa!” You replied in excitement. “Oh, I think there’s some carrots in the fridge too, maybe we should leave some of those out for his reindeer.” You suggested, smiling as Gracie and Gabby nodded, running towards the kitchen.

“Carrots for Rudolph!” Gracie squealed. 

“Cookies for Santa!” Gabby squealed right after, both of the girls giggling like crazy as they grabbed their little stools so they could decorate the cookies at the counter.

Gareth looked at you and raised an eyebrow, a smile on his face. “Cookies and carrots?” He teased, wrapping an arm around you as he left a quick peck on the lips.

“Yes,” you smiled, stepping away from him as you walked towards the kitchen. Gracie and Gabby had already started spreading red and green colored frosting on the sugar cookies, throwing rainbow sprinkles on them for good measure. You giggled, shaking your head as you walked up behind the girls. “Alright, princesses, I’m here,” you said, grabbing down their special Christmas plate.

You placed the plate on the counter, looking at it with a smile. It was a round, white plate that said Treats for Santa on it with three different red circles on it. One circle was labeled milk, another one labeled cookies and the last one was labeled reindeer snacks.

Gracie and Gabby smiled at each other, both of them placing a cookie they had decorated on the plate. Gracie’s cookie had red and green frosting mixed together, making it look more like brown frosting with some snowflake sprinkles on the top of it. Gabby’s cookie had green frosting on it with small multi-colored round sprinkles on it.

“Oh my goodness,” you said, rearranging the cookies on the plate. “Those are so pretty! Gareth, aren’t these cookies so pretty?” You asked, watching as Gareth grabbed some carrot sticks and the jug of milk from the fridge. He walked towards the counter, looking at the cookies from over your shoulder.

“No way,” he smiled, looking down at the plate. “Those are so cool! I wish I had some,” he added, setting the carrots and milk on the counter.

“Do you think Santa will like them?” Gracie giggled, looking up at Gareth.

“Yeah, do you think he’ll leave us presents?” Gabby asked, looking at Gareth as well.

“Well, I know for a fact that Santa will be stopping by our house.” Gareth replied, looking at his sisters. “He specifically told us that you two were on the nice list this year,” he added, looking up at you with a smile.

“That’s right!” You nodded, grabbing a small glass down from the cabinet for the milk. “But, Santa only comes to the house if everyone is asleep, remember?” You reminded them, grabbing out a couple of carrot sticks. You handed one to both girls, “can you put these right here for Rudolph?” You asked, pointing to the circle in the middle of the plate. Both girls nodded, placing their carrot sticks right next to each other on the plate.

Gareth poured a small glass of milk and held it in his hand, helping Gracie and Gabby down from their stools. “Alright, princesses, off to the fireplace!” Gabby and Gracie ran back to the living room, giggling like crazy. Gareth smiled and looked at you before walking after the girls, you grabbed the Christmas plate and followed after all the Emersons, setting the plate down on the fireplace. 

Gareth added the glass of milk on the plate and smiled at his sisters, who were leaving some pictures they had drawn earlier for Santa with his cookies.

“Everything ready for Santa?” Gareth’s dad asked from the couch, where he sat with their mom. The girls nodded and looked back at him.

“Yes!”

“All done!”

“Perfect, girls,” his mom smiled. “Then tell everyone else goodnight and let's go brush our teeth!” Gracie and Gabby whined before they gave everyone goodnight hugs and headed off to the bathroom to brush their teeth.

You and Gareth smiled at each other, taking a seat together on the couch before curling up together, watching the Christmas movie that was playing on the television. 

A few hours later, Gareth’s parents were getting ready to go to bed. His mom grabbed out the presents from Santa and set them on the floor in front of the fireplace, she looked up at you and Gareth and smiled. “You two staying up for a bit?” She asked, to which you and Gareth both nodded in response. “Perfect, snack on the cookies for Santa before bed, please,” she smiled, walking out of the living room with his dad.

You smiled softly, looking up at the television as A Christmas Story played for the tenth time that day. Gareth stood up and walked towards the plate of cookies and carrots, smiling back at you. “You want to take a bite of the cookies or the carrots?” He asked.

You stood up and followed him, taking a seat on the floor next to him. “The cookies, is that even a question?” You asked as you picked up one of the cookies, taking a bite out of it before you did the same to the other cookie. He frowned slightly and picked up the carrots before he took a bite out of all of them.

“You know,” you said, moving closer to him. “You’re amazing with your sisters,” you smiled, looking at him. “I can't wait to see you as a dad.” You added, kissing his lips softly.

“Yeah?” He asked, blushing as he smiled at you. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, snuggling up next to him. Gareth wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. As you sat together in front of the fireplace, the clock struck midnight and you swore you heard sleigh bells outside. You looked up at Gareth and smiled, “Merry Christmas, honey.” 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he replied, leaving a soft kiss on your lips.