#this AU has been living in my head rent free lately

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[sunsets-and-crows]

Is It Casual Now?

pairing: Reader x Sylus

Word count: 7K

---

As you begin to accept your feelings for him, your complicated relationship with Sylus takes a darker turn. As his world unravels before you, desire and fear blur into one. Can you handle the intoxicating power he wields, or will it consume you both?

You miss him while he’s away and end up in a situation you never thought would happen.

tags: PWP porn with plot (if you squint), don/sub themes, a little angst. NSFW content MDNI- please read with caution, AU lads! Warnings ahead!

Sulus has been living in my head rent free since I downloaded this damn game. It’s my first time writing so please let me know what you think!

A few content warnings for y’all please read them carefully!

Dark Themes, Dub-Con elements (particularly with questionable use of Sylus’ Evol. Consent is a big theme though and he does 100% get consent to do anything and everything he does) , Power play, dominance, and submission. It’s Sylus, guys, what did you expect? Violence and Gore (he’s going to kill some people) Child Endangerment (if you squint) Mentions of children being involved in adult situations or discussions (no children are actually harmed in this fic, just a nasty person offering that) Sexually explicit content: they really do be fucking like rabbits. Unprotected Sex: don’t be stupid guys.

The sunset glowed a vibrant orange, illuminating the streets below the penthouse window you were currently looking out of. Letting out a sigh, you basked in the weakened rays’ warmth and pulled the hoodie closer around your nightdress-clad body. Well, his hoodie. The material wrapped around you deliciously and it was probably more expensive than your salary for the month. But that wasn’t what drew you to it in the first place. The smell comforted you. You took another deep breath in at the collar and savoured the musky scent you could only describe as him. He always smelled so good.

Sighing again at the thought, you checked your phone for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. The blank screen almost mocked you. You should’ve been used to this, but each time the silver-haired menace left you here, you couldn’t help but let the worry eat at you.

Today, you’d left the bedroom to find a note in his signature cursive scrawl letting you know that he would be back later. Later. You scoffed at the thought of later. When even was later? Sometimes later meant a few hours, sometimes it meant the afternoon and on rare occasions, later meant a few days.

Before you could let the thought consume you, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You made a grab for it quickly – 1 new message. From Rafayel. You hated yourself for being disappointed.

20:43 Rafayel: where are you honey

You quickly typed a response, some shit about working late or meeting a friend. Honestly, you put so little thought into the reply that guilt crept its way back in, so you deleted it and retyped.

20:50 Me: I’ve taken the day off for some much needed rest and relaxation! I haven’t even had my phone on me. Do you need something Raf? I can talk :)

You replied, you know, like a liar.

20:51 Rafayel: No worries cutie

20:51 Rafayel: I haven’t heard from you all day so naturally I thought you died

20:53 Rafayel: only reason I could think of for your lack of contact.

20:53 Rafayel: rest well cutie

20:53 Rafayel: next time text me back and dun make me wait!

20:55 Rafayel: I’d die without your attention.

His reply was humorous, but you knew deep down he was actually worried about you. You felt a little bad, but at least he was cracking jokes like usual.

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a laugh, you pulled yourself away from the living room window and made your way into the kitchen. The sun had now set completely. You’d been alone all day and frankly the boredom and worry were eating you alive. You needed something to do. You glanced at the clock in the kitchen and sighed again. You hated eating on your own, but now, at 9:00pm, you had no other choice. Your stomach growled loudly in agreement.

You’d stayed at his hotel many times. Sometimes for work near the N109 zone and other times just because he asked you to. Sometimes he’d bring you here on dinners and shopping trips that felt so much like dates, they left your heart fluttering and your brain confused.

This time however, You’d had a particularly bad week and were looking forward to some “quality time” together. He’d picked you up after work directly in front of the Hunter’s Association, your employer. Of course, they didn’t need to know that you were running around with their number one wanted criminal.

If any other man tried to take you back to a hotel room, let alone one he had clearly lived in, you would have laughed and told him to get lost. But this was different. It was clear that he used this penthouse often, but not often enough for it to feel lived in. He’d clearly custom-decorated it, which, you supposed, was a perk of owning the hotel. It didn’t feel like a seedy hotel room - you would’ve left if it had. It felt expensive, like a luxury, to be let into this part of his world.

Your bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the marble of the kitchen floor and the stone sent a chill through your body. You always felt cold without him around. Strange - for someone you were just casually hooking up with. You made your way to the fridge and checked inside. Empty, except for three bottles of white wine and two bottles of sparkling wine. None of this was the food you so desperately needed, but it would do until you decided what to order.

You popped open the bottle of sparkling wine and poured yourself a decent glass, downing the whole thing and pouring another. Just to take the edge off, of course.

You walked back to the living room, full glass and bottle in hand, and plopped down onto the deep red velvet sofa. Picking up the room service menu, you pondered over the many choices. You hastily called down to the front desk and placed your order, hoping it would arrive soon.

Taking another sip of wine, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your message conversation.

12:54 Me: Any idea when you’ll be back?

Read 12:55

13:31 Me: Should I eat the leftovers for lunch or are you bringing something back?

Read 13:32

15:43 Me: I feel like I should let you know that I ate your half of the leftovers. I was hungry and you aren’t responding.

Read 16:32

18:49 Me: Are you going to be back for dinner?

Read 19:02

20:56 Me: Are you okay?

Read 20:56

20:58 Me:*You unsent a message*

You scoffed at your phone, worry turning to frustration. He clearly had time to check his messages. Why couldn’t he just respond? He was so frustrating!

After aimlessly scrolling through mind-numbing videos for a few minutes, the bell to the penthouse rang. You hopped up and checked through the peephole, rightly assuming your dinner had arrived. You brought it into the living room and began to dig into the delicious meal. It killed a good 45 minutes, you realised as you checked your phone once you were done. Finishing up with a little tidying wasted another 10 minutes, and then you were back to waiting.

Now, it was closer to 11:00pm, and you felt your eyelids growing heavy, but with no sign of him, you didn't want to fall asleep just yet. You put on a random movie on the giant TV and decided to settle in on the sofa for the night.

It feels like only moments later when you woke to the sound of classical music blaring from the record player in the corner of the room. The movie had been switched off. You became aware of a weight on your hip. Calmly, you look up to discover the source. A hand was stroking your hip and playing with the end of your nightdress, which had ridden up while you slept. The hand belonged to none other than Sylus himself. Somehow, he’d managed to situate himself on the sofa you were sleeping on, your head resting on his lap as his hands absentmindedly fussed with your body and hair.

‘You’re awake,’ He said in his deep drawl, the words smoothing over you like honey.

‘I didn’t even realise I’d fallen asleep,’ You replied blinking up into his deep carmine eyes as they roamed your body.

‘Out like a light, sweetie,’ he said with a smirk. ‘You didn’t even flinch when I came through the door.’ His lips held that signature smirk as he continued, ‘What happened to those fine-tuned hunter instincts, hmm? Have they been dulled by the wine you so graciously helped yourself to?’

He sounded calm and collected as usual, but you could tell something was off. You shifted on his lap to look at him more seriously.

‘What happened, Sylus?’ You asked, letting his comment about the wine slide. He’d give you the earth if he could; you knew he wasn’t really bothered by a bottle of wine.

‘Nothing to worry about. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine,’ he replied, feigning nonchalance. But there was a note of something in his voice that betrayed his nearly perfect mask. Your eyes scanned his face, searching for any clue.

‘See something you like, sweetie?’ He teased, tilting his head and gazing into your eyes. He was so close, and for a moment, you were distracted by how handsome he looked. Your eyes drifted to his lips, which crooked up into another half-smirk when he noticed.

You snapped out of it. ‘I’m being serious, Sylus. I missed you all day. You read my messages, so I knew you were alive, but it’s so hard waiting here when all I want is to be with you.’ You softened your voice, trying to coax him into opening up.

‘Sweetie,’ he started ‘you knew what this arrangement would look like when we started. I don’t want to tell you anything that you don’t need to know. You wouldn’t like-’

‘You don’t know what I’ll think!’ you interrupted, sitting up and turning toward him. You cupped his jaw and guided his face toward you. That’s when you spotted it, a red drop of dried blood on his temple. You raised your hand and gently ran your thumb over the spot. ‘Sylus, I’m a big girl. I kill wanderers for a living you know?’ He sighed leaning into your touch, clearly soothed by the movement. ‘I’m in this, whatever it is, with you. I wouldn’t have betrayed The Hunters Association and constantly sneaked behind their back for just anyone. Please tell me what happened.’

He sat in silence, eyes closed, rolling your words around in his mind. Initially, he’d kept this side of his business a secret because he wasn’t sure he could trust you. But over the months, he’d kept it hidden for another reason entirely. He didn’t want you to see the violent, unkind part of him that emerged when dealing with business.

But now, thinking back to how you met, to all the challenges he’d watched you face without backing down, he wrestled with himself. Would it really be so bad to let you in?

He opened his eyes, his hand wrapping around yours. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’ You nodded gently, holding his gaze to show him how serious you were. ‘Today’s deal didn’t quite go as planned. Turns out this buyer held a grudge against me after our last meeting - he sold me some subpar protocores and I, naturally, refused to pay for them. He had men hidden in the surrounding buildings and ambushed me. No class, kitten,’ He said, his voice sharp. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you were determined to stay composed.

‘Luke got out unscathed but Kerian was hurt pretty badly. He was being patched up until late into the night.’ Your face must have betrayed your shock because Sylus leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. ‘I had to execute every person in that room for trying to double-cross me sweetie.’ he whispered into our ear, his tone deep and almost seductive.

You gasped, but before you could speak, he asked, ‘Should I continue?’ You nodded again. ‘My gun burned through its holster once I ran out of bullets. It wasn’t my only weapon, of course.’ His tone turned dark. ‘You remember how deadly my Evol is, right sweetie? You found out the day we met.’

Your body reacted instinctively to the memory, a flash of heat curling in your belly.

You could only nod again, this time biting your lip at the memory of your first meeting. ‘I take an odd delight in using it to eviscerate my enemies, turning them to dust beneath my feet, where they belong. Filth like that needs to be taken care of - don't you agree sweetie” His voice had turned almost syrupy in quality and his eyes flashed with the red of his Aether core. You were shocked- not at the information, but at your own reaction to it.

He continued. ‘Of course, I had to leave the boss for last, sweetie. He had a lesson to learn, after all. First, he sold me sub-quality products and then he tried to cross me. Tut, tut, tut. That simply won't do.’ You leaned in slightly closer, resting your knees on his thighs as you curled up. ‘Well, I’ve never heard a grown man beg so quickly, and you won’t believe it, kitten. He tried to make a deal with me.’

‘What kind of deal? For his life?’ you questioned.

‘Hmmm sort of,’ he replied. ‘This man - no, this filth - tried to offer me his own flesh and blood in return for me sparing his life. His own child. His daughter is just 16 years old. He told me I could have her.’ He scoffed as if the thought were laughable. ‘He should've known that would never work. In fact, it left me more disgusted by him. She’s a child. She should never have been brought up in a business discussion. I tortured him a little more for that. First his eyes…’ At this, he brought his hand to your face and swept his thumb over one of your eyes. ‘He didn’t deserve to look at me. Next, his tongue…’ His hand moved down and ran over your lips ‘his disgusting begging earned him that one, kitten. Of course, I couldn’t just rough him up, that wouldn't do. I had to make him suffer, unable to scream for help, gurgling and choking on his own blood.’

Somehow, you weren’t utterly horrified like you'd imagine you would be, hearing about the killing of so many people and the blatant torture of another. You felt your thighs clench at his raw power and seductive tone. God, what was wrong with you?

Sylus, ever the observant man, saw your eyes dilate and your thighs clench beneath your tiny nightdress. ‘Well, sweetie, it seems I had nothing to worry about,’ He brought his hand down to your hip and moved in close to whisper in your ear. ‘You’re clearly more than woman enough to handle anything I throw at you.’

You were found out. ‘Did you want me to be scared?’ you asked him, your voice soft in his ear, as his lips dropped to your neck - not making contact, but close enough for his eyes to watch your pulse racing beneath your soft skin.

‘Never, sweetheart. I’m not interested in your fear’ His voice dripped with lust as he cupped your shoulder and laid you back against the soft sofa beneath you, crowding around you with his arms resting on either side of your face. ‘Why would I want that when your desperation is so much more… enticing?’

He brought his hand up to your face, gripping it tight enough for you to feel his control, but not enough to hurt you. ‘Tell me, kitten,’ He purred, his eyes locking onto yours ‘Why is it that hearing these vicious acts has got you all hot and bothered, hmmm?’

“It’s just…” you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words.

“Just? Just what?” He replied, almost mocking with his tone.

“Just, you. I don’t know why but hearing about you being so ruthless and in charge, it kind of turnsmeon.” You rushed through the end of your sentence, mumbling to the point of incoherence.

“Oh come on kitten,” he started. “You can be a big girl and tell me properly.”

“I said it, turns me on!” Your face had heated up quite substantially but still you went on. “I don’t know why, but it does. I think it’s the control maybe?”

“Oh really,” his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer to your ear “and do you want to be under my control too?”

You shut your eyes, trying to escape his intensity, but he clearly wasn’t going to let that slide. ‘Uh-uh sweetheart. Look at me when I'm talking to you.’ You heard light buzzing in the air by your head before you felt it - his Evol snaked around your throat, giving a light squeeze in warning. Your eyes snapped open at the sensation. ‘Don’t hide from me. I want to see how much you can handle. Now tell me what I want to hear - don't make me force it out of you.’ His right eye flashed in warning and you felt a slight pull to open up to him in more ways than one.

This was a completely new dynamic in your relationship. He had never used his Evol on you - other than when you first met - and it sent a thrill running through you. The idea of him compelling you to voice your desires so clearly, without hesitation, made you realise just how much you liked this side of him. He noticed your eyes dilating further- they looked like beautiful black pools, and it drove him wild to know that he had this effect on you. ‘Oh. It seems like that’s exactly what you want to happen. Is that right, sweetheart?’

You nodded desperately, but he held your face still and kissed your lips lightly. ‘No, baby, you have to use your words. You have to want this, or it’s a huge invasion of privacy. I won't do that’

His insistence on your consent, made your heart flutter. Little things like this reinforced your feelings for him, and you couldn't help the little smile that revealed your affection. ‘Sylus, i-I want you to force me to tell you this.’ You emphasised your point by bringing one hand up to his shoulder, squeezing the muscle beneath, while the other rested on his chest, feeling the abnormally fast pace of his heart beating beneath his skin.

He closed his eyes and then opened them, his Evol no longer prickling at you but pushing you fully. He looked you straight in the eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t have looked away even if you’d wanted to. Then, the voices started - a cacophony of your own voice inside your head, letting loose every desire you had. The sound grew so loud that the sentences slipped out of your mouth against your will. ‘Submit to him. Claim him as yours. You belong to him. Give him everything. Submit.’

Your breathing grew heavier as you spilled all of your secrets, anxiety building. You wanted to look away from his handsome face, but thank god you couldn’t.

You saw his eyes dilate at your confessions. The more you were forced to say, the more hunger you saw on his face. His breathing deepened, and you felt him growing hard against your leg. His mouth parted on a shaky exhale, the warmth of it hitting your face. You could nearly taste the whiskey he’d clearly consumed before arriving. When he spoke, his voice was deep and husky, laced with lust. ‘Oh, it seems you’ve had a lot on your mind recently. Why didn’t you say something before?’

He let you out of the grip of his Evol and you couldn’t even begin to form an answer to his question. You reached your hands up into his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss.

The moment your lips connected with his, everything around you seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you. Sylus responded immediately, deepening the kiss with a hunger that mirrored the storm of emotions brewing inside him. His hands roamed the sides of your body, trailing heat wherever they went, making your skin tingle under his touch. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth before pulling back, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve just unlocked.”

His grip tightened on your hips, and you could feel the restraint in his movements, like he was holding back a torrent of emotion and power. You felt a strange thrill at his words, at the way he teetered on the edge of control.

“Maybe I like danger more than you know,” you replied, your voice breathless yet teasing, daring him to show you just how deep this game could go. You ran your hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. He inhaled sharply at your touch, his carmine eyes blazing with intensity.

His hands slid beneath your nightdress, grazing your thighs as he pulled you closer into his lap. Suddenly, his grip tightened and he lifted you up into the air as he stood from the couch. You let out a surprised gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, as they had done hundreds of times before.

He carried you into the bedroom and unexpectedly sat himself down at the headboard, leaving you straddling his thighs and pressed against his hard cock. Your hands went back to his shoulders. He bucked his hips up into you and you both groaned at the contact, the heat between you two becoming almost unbearable. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice dark and smooth. “Do you really think you can handle me at my most dangerous, sweetie?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his eyes. There was no going back from this. Not from the way he was looking at you, not from the emotions you were feeling—raw, untamed, and terrifyingly real.

“Yes,” you breathed out, barely audible but filled with certainty. To prove it, you grinded against him and let out a soft keen at the feeling of him, hard and right where you needed him.

Sylus’s smirk grew wider, and he pressed a hungry kiss against your neck, letting his lips linger, as the mark he left tingled. “Then brace yourself,” he said, “because I don’t plan on stopping until you know exactly who you belong to.”

He moved with purpose, flipping you both over to once again tower over you. Letting you know that he was firmly in control. This, you were used to, this you craved.

His hands moved deliberately - never once hesitating - slipping beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. He groaned softly as his fingers found your bare skin, the touch electrifying. You arched into him, craving more, your breath hitching as he ran his hands along your sides, his lips following the path of his fingers, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, primal. “Is this why you’ve been so restless without me?”

You could only nod, words failing you as desire overtook everything else. Sylus chuckled darkly at your silence, his hand tightening possessively around your waist as he shifted, pushing you back into the soft cushions of the bed. His body hovered over yours, his silver hair falling like a curtain around his face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of hunger and affection.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, though still edged with that dangerous undercurrent. “Every time I leave, all I think about is getting back to you.”

His confession hit you like a punch to the chest. This wasn’t just about the sex. There was something deeper, something neither of you had dared to voice before. But in this moment, with everything laid bare, there was no hiding from it anymore.

“Sylus,’ You groaned ‘I think about you too, you have to know that,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shirt as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Sylus.” You paused your hands’ movements and looked at him.

He froze, his eyes searching yours, and in that heartbeat of silence, you could feel the shift in the air between you. Something unspoken passed between you, something more than just physical desire.

Sylus lowered his head until his lips were barely brushing yours. “Then don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t stop. Don’t hold back.”

And with that, he kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your whole body tremble. Your hands took the opportunity to pull apart his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and baring his beautiful skin for you. His hands roamed over you with a possessive need, claiming you in ways that left no doubt in your mind that this was more than just a game to him. It was more than just physical.

It was everything.

‘I’m going to absolutely ruin you,’ He said with an edge of desperation in his voice. He pulled off your nightdress, not at all shocked to find you bare beneath it but delighted nonetheless. Less barriers to make his way through. He let out a groan so deep at the sight of you bare and dripping for him. He couldn’t help himself, he needed you. ‘You want me to taste you? To bury my face between your thighs and make you come?’ You nodded furiously, drunk on his raw power. “Then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

With that, he dove in tongue first. Lapping at you with unparalleled delight. ‘Fuck,’ he groaned. ‘You alway taste so divine?’ he dove back in. “You’re so perfect and all mine.’

You couldn’t contain your sounds of pleasure, nor did you want to. You knew he loved to hear you cry out and moan for him. The menace loved to hear how he was ruining you. A wicked grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you close into his waiting mouth. ‘You’re so wet for me, kitten,’ He murmured, his voice thick and filled with heat. ‘I can't wait to lap up every last drop.’

Without warning, his tongue swept across your slick pussy, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. He continued to completely overwhelm you with his enthusiastic assault of his tongue on your pussy. Teasing and tantalising every sensitive spot. He brought his hand up to join in, gently circling around your entrance and pushing in to feel that spongy spot that would, no doubt, have you seeing stars.

‘Mmmmm, you taste amazing,’ he growled, his voice low and husky. ‘Like honey and wine.’ He took his time, exploring every inch of you, his fingers continuing their exploration of your g-spot .

He could feel your pleasure building, your moans growing louder and more insistent, your walls squeezing around his fingers. ‘I love watching you like this, seeing you unravel. Fuck!’ is words were spoken against your pussy, almost muffled by how close he was. His tongue circled your clit, teasing it with gentle, sucking motions.

He was driving you closer and closer to the edge, tensing up. The coil inside you wound so tight that you could snap at any moment, but something held you back. “Please Sylus, please let me come, I want it, please.’ You needed permission. Your cries were desperate and pleading and it turned him on even more.

“Cum for me, sweetie,” he urged you, needing to feel you fall over the edge, desperate for your release. “Let me feel you cum on my tongue baby, you’re squeezing my fingers so hard.”

He dove back in his mouth and lips working overtime on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot with expert precision. He felt the moment you came for him and he groaned loudly into your pussy. He could taste the waves of pleasure on his tongue and feel the way you clamped down hard on his fingers, getting impossibly tighter. He gently ran his tongue over your clit, drawing out pleasure from your quivering body.

“Fuck, Sylus,” you groaned. Your body was still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm when you felt him shift against your foot, his cock - still confined in his trousers and boxers - was as hard as a rock and desperate for attention. “Come here,” you demanded as you pulled him up by his soft strands of silver hair. The slight pain from your tugging and your tone elicited another groan from Sylus.

Your lips smashed together, both of you moaning into the kiss. He kissed you impossibly harder. Ravaging your mouth as your hands worked his belt, then zipper open and pushed them down his thighs, boxers and all. He shivered a little as you wasted no time in gripping his cock firmly in your hands.

“Please, let me taste it, Sylus?” You asked with a look of feigned innocence on your face. How could he say no to that?

As you got onto your knees in front of him, you licked up the length of his cock. It was completely hard for you and he groaned at the sensation. Of course his dick was just as pretty as the rest of him. E looked down at you as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth and sucked him sweetly, blinking up at him. His moans of enjoyment encouraged you. You used both hands around his shaft and let your mouth focus on his sensitive tip, just the way he liked it. You knew all of his favourite places to be touched and just the right way to do it.

He was utterly enraptured with the sight of you, mouth stuffed full of him. He gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pulling you off him. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetie,” he replied. Your hands continued their work on his cock, spreading out the silky precum that had gathered at his top and using it to lubricate your motions. He felt so good, your hands working wonders. “I fear I’ve taught you-“ his groan interrupted him mid sentence as you licked his slit again. “Taught you too well. Fuck. I won’t last in your mouth, sweetie. I need you now!” It was a command, not a request.

He pushed you back into your back and reached across to the night stand to retrieve a condom.

“Wait!” You grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked at you shocked, concerned that something was wrong. “What if we, ummm, didn’t use a condom tonight?” You asked, a hint of shyness creeping in. Truthfully you’d been thinking about it for a while now. He was the only man you were sleeping with and you were on the pill. There’s no one else you trusted to experience that with before. You wanted to feel him, raw, with no barrier between you.

He groaned and nipped at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone. “Fuck. You really want that? Are you sure?”

You nodded in response then remembering his earlier demand, voiced your agreement. “Yes Sylus, please I want it.”

“Good.” He growled as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked on it, laving his tongue over the soft pebble and making you groan and grab at his hair again.

“I want you,” He said, his cock grinding against you completely bare for the first time, sending a shiver down your spine. “All of you.”

He captured your mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hand slid between your thighs. His fingers teased your sensitive skin, collecting your sticky arousal and using it to stroke his cock - covering himself in your very essence. “I’ll give you anything you want, kitten.”

You took over from him, stroking his cock and guiding it to your pussy. His eyes lit up further, his cock throbbing with anticipation as you ran the tip of him across your soaked pussy. “I just want you” you replied earnestly.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled his voice so low and husky, it reeked for pure sex. “You have no idea how much I want to give you everything. To spoil you, claim you, to own you.”

He pushed into you, his cock sliding deep into your warm, wet pussy. He bottomed out and you both groaned at the sensation. He stilled himself inside you, his body tensed with pleasure as he felt himself buried to the hilt. “You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice full of adoration. “So perfect for me. This pussy is perfect, fuck, like it was made for me.”

He began to move his hips, rocking back and forth with a deliberate, slow pace. He could feel his control slipping, his desire to completely control you, to own you, growing with every passing moment. His raw cock although slow, was hitting perfectly inside you. It felt amazing. You raked your nails down his back and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts. If you’d have known how good it would feel, you never would have waited this long to go without a condom. You could feel every inch of him, each ridge and vein, smoothing along your walls and drawing out your soft keens and mewls.

“You’re mine, sweetie,” he growled, his voice low and raw with need. “I’m going to make you mine forever.” He leaned in as his thrusts began to get faster and harder. “And I’m going to take everything. Every inch of you is mine. Every waking moment is mine. Every last breath in your body belongs to me now. I’m going to make sure you never forget it.

“Yes, please, Sylus,” you gasped as his thrusts turned merciless, his cock hitting you just right and the slapping noises echoing in the giant room. “Yes I’m yours, completely yours!”

He groaned at your words and smashed your lips together in another bruising kiss your tongue not even trying to fight for dominance as if it knew it was his. You could see the effect of your words on him, so you pushed on despite your breathlessness.

Each word came out in pants. “I’m yours! Yours to fuck, yours to spoil, yours to love. I’m all yours Sylus,” he grinned widely, possessively at your words. “And you’re all mine.” You reached up and pulled him into a desperate kiss, breaking off and leaving a trail of your combined saliva hanging from your lips. Moving them to his throat and attaching them to his sensitive spot, before sucking a hard mark on his neck.

He groaned loudly at the feeling. You trailed your lips lower leaving mark after mark in your wake. His hips stuttered and he had to still them to catch his breath.

“No one else gets to see you this way,” You leaned up and whispered into his ear “You’re all fucking mine.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened with unbridled desire as you declared your own possessiveness. He let out a guttural groan, his hips resuming their relentless slamming into you. He brought his hand down to your stomach and pressed down slightly, feeling his cock move within you from the outside - it drove him absolutely wild.

“Oh sweetie, you’re right,” he rasped, his voice dripping with lust from your words. “I’m all yours. Every. Single. Fucking. Inch.” He punctuated his words with four particularly hard thrusts that had your eyes rolling back in your skull and your moans coming out in quiet shrieks.

He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth as his fingers gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises the next day.

He broke the kiss, only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping at your soft skin. “I’m going to mark you up, kitten,” he murmured, his teeth grazing your flesh. “Everyone is going to know you’re mine.”

He pulled back, his eyes drinking in the sight of you beeneath him, his cock buried deep inside your warmth, bare and fucking stunning. The feeling was indescribable. A wicked grin spread across his handsome face as he grinded his hips against yours with him all the way deep.

Your eyes flashed open at the new feeling and looked down to see where you were both so intimately connected. As he pulled out, you could see the way you gripped onto him tighter and tighter and you could feel your pleasure building inside.

He could feel it in the way you squeezed him in a vice-like grip, it had his mind reeling and him desperately close to the edge. He tried to hold on, and was doing a great job of it until you reached down to rub your clit and moaned out.

“Please cum inside me, Sylus,” you were almost begging him. You were so close to your orgasm and you knew it would leave you exhausted. “Please, cum for me, I’m so close. Please cum with me.”

Sylus’s face contorted into a mix of pleasure and restraint, he wanted to feel you cum around him first before he let himself release. He could see the desperation in your eyes, your desire to be filled by him.

He drove into you with a fierce intensity, his hips pumping in a rapid, rhythmic motion as he got closer and closer. He brushed your hand away and used his fingers to press down, as his thumb battered your clit. “Come for me, sweetie, I’m right there too,” He rasped out, his voice hoarse “I’ll fill you up pretty girl, I promise, I’ll make you mine in every way.”

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, Sylus!” You moaned out his name as you felt yourself hit your orgasm.

He felt his body tense, his cock throbbing with release as he exploded inside you, his cum pumping out in hot, pulsing jets. He felt it spilling into your depths, the sensation so different without a barrier. Being connected to you, being inside you like that, it was the most intense feeling he’d ever experienced.

You were both left feeling absolutely breathless, sticky and tired. You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath, when you felt soft kisses being pressed against your lips. “You’re so incredible, my perfect girl.”

His words set your heart on fire, almost matching the usual fast pace of his. He began to pull out but you stopped him with a grip on his hip. “Not yet,” you reached back up and kissed him gently. “I don’t want to be separated from you.”

His eyes warmed at your words, softening to the point where he looked completely enamoured with you. “I’m not going anywhere sweetie, I just need to clean you up.”

“Can’t you do that and still stay inside me?” You replied with a pout on your face that made him chuckle.

“I promise, I’ll be at your disposal for the rest of the weekend, if you let me get you cleaned up. How’s that sound sweetie?” He set the deal up and now the ball was in your court.

“That does sound good, but may I add one more clause to the agreement?” You said with a slight grin.

“Hmmm, sure. Anything for you, sweetie.” He shot back at you.

“Promise me, you’ll always come back to me. You don’t have to be here all the time but just promise me that I’ll be the one you come back to. And let me in, yeah?” You looked at him with warmth and a deeper emotion that you were too scared to name.

“Okay, then I want to add another clause, if I may?” He nuzzled into your cheek and kissed the side of your mouth before making eye contact again. “Quit your job, move in with me and let me have you as mine officially. I’m not going anywhere, and I want this to be something we can give our all to. I want to take you with me, to show you off as mine. Sneaking around was fun at the beginning, but now, I just want to hold your hand in the street, kiss you when I feel like it, or throw you over my shoulder and escort you out of the premises when I want you like this.”

He kissed you again, his teeth tugging at your lip and his tongue demanding entrance again. You were tempted, oh so tempted. What did you truly have back in Linkon that wouldn’t be there if you followed your heart? Zayne was your childhood friend, he’d understand. Your colleagues were just that, colleagues. Tara was always asking you about “Mr Skye” and when you would be making things official so she’d be delighted. And Rafayel? He had his own, Miss Hunter to keep him company. He seemed so happy and he would always be your best friend no matter what.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” You asked him.

He looked a little sad about it but he nodded his head and started to pull his softening cock out of you. His cum started to drip out of you and he looked down at the sight transfixed, his cock getting hard again at the sight. But he knew that he needed to give you a little space to process what he’d asked of you so he started to go to the bathroom intent on grabbing you a warm, wet washcloth to clean you up.

But your hand stopped him from retreating even one step. You looked up at him with your eyes full of adoration and he looked back feeling the weight of his own. “Okay, I’ve thought about it, let’s do it.” You giggled.

Sylus was silent for a moment, and you felt the weight of your words hand in the air before he finally spoke.

“God, I love you,” he said, his voice low and filled with something you hadn’t heard before—something vulnerable. He kissed you again as this time, the kiss felt different. You could feel all the emotion he put into it, truly conveying his raw emotion in the best way he could.

You pulled away and whispered “I love you too, Sylus,” before grabbing him by the back of the back and pulling him back down on top of you.

And in that moment, you knew things had changed between you both. No more hiding, no more pretending that what you had was casual. Because in reality, it was anything but.

And neither of you were willing to let it go.

[surielstea]

Bloody Besottedness

Eris Week, day six: AU (vampire)

Pairing: Vampire!Eris Vanserra x Human!Reader

Summary: During a blood shortage, reader can’t help but feel inclined to share her precious blood to the male who had only ever been kind to her.

Warnings: Mostly fluff | slight NSFW | Blood | Blood drinking | Descriptions of blood and very tame gore | dry humping (?)

A. Note: Vampre Eris has been living in my head rent free as of late and I thought I might share to get the rest of you addicted 😈

5.3k words.

Eris paced the hall back and forth, antsy in his movements as he continued to pass by me, then pivoted with a sharp turn, passed by me again, then repeated. This went on for what felt like hours as I sat there, doing nothing but trying to think of solutions for our situation.

We had been low on blood supply for the past month, the vampire I was living with foolishly did not tell me and I had been oblivious until he told me last week that we were officially out, and completely ran dry.

The whole town was in a shortage, the human lands off limits and penalized by death if a vampire were to seek them out as prey. But it was winter and the animals were in hiding. It was a wonder how it ever got this bad, but there were greedy males out there, and they took more than what was deserved.

The royals had more than others by fault, so by the time Eris had run out it meant we were truly arid as in, even the last of the deer in the forest had been hunted down and were long gone by now.

Vaughn, one of Eris's kinder brothers, and Cat, Vaughn's lover came in through the large double doors with panicked expressions and a paler-than-usual complexion.

"Oh gods, not you guys too," I stand to greet them but Eris merely continues his pacing, not paying them any mind.

"How long has it been since you ran out?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest anxiously.

"This morning, you?" Catalina questions. I look back to Eris and his unrelenting pace, like if he stopped he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

"Last week," I murmured and Cat audibly gasped, Vaughn was staying eerily quiet. "Why haven't you hunted anything?" She asks urgently, her eyes alight with both concern and rage.

"He didn't want to leave me alone while we're on a shortage like this, and he didn't want me going out either," I explain. Vaughn examines me, truly looking at me with a glaze over his eyes, displaying an emotion I didn't recognize. "Hey, Vaughn are you okay?" I reach out towards him but he grabs my wrist, gripping it hard before I can make contact with him. "Vaughn," I grit out. A low growl sounds in the base of his throat as I attempt to pry him off. "Vaughn," Catalina strikes him in the side and his hold around my wrist loosens, he blinks once, twice, looks at both of us then notices the red marks around my wrist. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry," He immediately lets go, pulling his hand to his chest like he's just committed something wretched.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't just been terrified of his nails piercing my skin. Who knows what what three hungry vampires might do to a human who started bleeding, even if they were my friends.

"We're going to go find some food, we'll bring you back whatever we can," Cat smiled at me reassuringly even though I knew she was just as hungry as the male beside her. I can only nod silently in reply. "Try and talk to him," She nods towards Eris. "He'll listen to you." Then she grabbed Vaughn by the wrist like he had mine, and pulled him out the door to go shoot down the largest animal they could find, with our luck, it'd be a rabbit.

I turn back to the red-head still pacing the hall like a madman, a starved man rather. "Eris," I begin as he passes by me. He puts his palm up toward me, telling me not to speak— not because he wouldn't listen, but because if he did he knew he'd be persuaded by whatever I have to say.

"I know my weaknesses so just, don't," He warns, then returns to his pacing. Despite our situation, I couldn't help but feel flustered by that.

I sigh and sink back into the chaise, my eyes following him as he goes back and forth across my view. I sit there in the silence of his footsteps. I was in my fourth position on the chaise before I got fed up and stood, walking into the pathway he's retraced hundreds of times now. "Eris," I warn before he can ram into me. He stops one pace away. "I'm going to make dinner, you need to eat," I explain.

"I can't," He sighs. We've tried, it was true. Even the meat he can barely get down without a drink of blood to go with it.

"It's better than nothing," I sigh. "Cat and Vaughn will be back with some for you in a few hours just, try and eat what I make alright?" I take a step closer and he matches it with a step back. "I'm not going to hurt you," I sigh in a reassuring tone and he shakes his head.

"No, I'm afraid I might hurt you," He confesses and my caring demeanor falters.

Oh.

I was so mindless that it hadn't even occurred to me that he'd be capable, he'd been telling me about how dangerous it was to be near a hungry vampire for months, and yet when it came to him that thought immediately voided, because, it was him. "You won't," I steel my features.

"You don't know that," He whispers like he's done it before, hurt me before, fed on me before. "Your smell it's, it's everywhere," He looks around as if he might be able to see it.

"My, smell?" I tilt my head. I knew vampire senses were much stronger than those of humans, but could he truly smell people?

"Gods, it's heavenly darling," He sighs, my scent seeming to be suffocating him.

"Is there any way I can control it?" I offer taking another step forward and this time he matches it again, doesn't let me come near, and doesn't indulge that restless hunger growing inside of him. He shakes his head with a soft whine, backing up against the wall forcefully so he doesn't pounce.

"I'm sorry, Eris," I back away, going towards the kitchen. "They'll be back soon, I'll make food— I know it's not what you want but, it's better than nothing okay?" I mumble. He only nods, afraid of opening his mouth, afraid his teeth will somehow find their way into my neck if he responds. So he kept it sealed shut and only stared longingly from the end of the hall.

I disappear into the kitchen and only a moment later, the sound of his pacing returns.

I hum a soft tune, a lullaby my mother used to sing for me at night, knowing it so well that I could get through every lilt and swing of the melody without so much as a stumble.

The food I had prepared wasn't gourmet by any means, it was a quickly thrown-together plate of chicken, broccoli, and potatoes. Chicken blood is the cheapest at the markets, easy to source, and rancid to taste. But it got the job done so I drained as much of it as I could from the bird, after filtering it I only came up with about a cup, drinkable but not enough.

There were barely any nutrients in chicken's blood, a whole gallon wouldn't be enough to feed a male like Eris.

Human blood, however, a drop could satiate the average child, which meant a cup like this would leave Eris satisfied for at least another week, just until the shortage was over.

I debated it. Wondered if I could spare just a few drops into the cup, give him just enough to keep him from going over the edge, and reward him for all the restraint he's had. But I'm quickly reminded of why he has that restraint, he's not only keeping himself from crossing that boundary but he is also keeping me alive. If a vampire was feeding on a human, then the human's survival rate quickly became slim. The venom of their teeth left us defenseless, meant to be pliable and lithe, turned into this shell of skin, meant for the blood in our veins alone. The effects depend on the human, some pass out, some become incapable of thinking, and some even become aroused. I didn't know which one I was, and I wasn't in the business of finding out.

It wasn't just the venom of their teeth, but that blood soon became the vampire's sole craving until they could no longer satiate it, until the source for it was gone and they had to find a new victim. If Eris had gotten a taste I fear his control would shatter and he'd become like Vaughn, a glossy-eyed predator who wants nothing more than to feed.

But if he didn't know, if I could slip a few drops in, would it be that harmful? All signs were pointing to yes but I was desperate to help him.

I sighed in contemplation, then ultimately decided that to give him even a few drops I'd have to make an incision somewhere in my skin, which any vampire in a mile radius would be capable of smelling, it was luck that Eris had sent the cooks and the guards home last week for the rest of the shortage.

So I didn't give him any, forced myself to watch him suffer for a few more hours until Cat and Vaughn returned.

"Food's ready Eris," I peek my head down the hall. He was sat on the chaise, his head in his hands as he muttered something to himself.

Gods I was worried about him, beyond worried.

I walk closer, still keeping my distance. "Eris," I call again. He doesn't move but his muttering stops which relieves a small part of my unease. I knew I shouldn't have though I couldn't help but step that final stretch between us, crouching down in front of him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Eris?" I call and his head snaps up with a snarl, baring his very sharp, very deadly teeth at me. I scramble back in both shock and fear, leaning back on my hands with apprehension creasing my brows.

His eyes were glossy, his nose twitching, those signs of craving I should've been recognizing. "Eris," I whisper and he blinks, the sheen over his eyes disappearing with that movement.

"No, no, I'm so, so sorry," He sighs out like he's let himself down more than me, he moves to the floor where I still sat, fear still lingering in my gaze as he comes closer.

"It's fine," I say before he can get too close. "Dinner's on the table, I'll be in my room if you need me," I murmur, standing up and brushing off my dress.

"Darling," Pleads, his tone wobbling, his eyes glassy. Not with desire, with regret. He was the depiction of apology, on his knees with his hands in his lap as his eyes shone with sincerity.

"They'll be back soon, we can talk after, I promise," Once he was no longer a threat, we would talk.

"I'm sorry," He whispers and even from a hallway away I can hear the despair in his voice. My heart crumbles at the sight, but I know better than to give in, so instead I mutter my reply,

"Me too." Then I pivot on my heel and retreat into my bedroom.

I told him to find me if he needed to, I knew he wouldn't seek me out, even though I desired to see him despite his state of starvation. I knew better than anyone it was dangerous, and learned from past vampiric lovers that it was nearly impossible to live in harmony with each other. They always end up asking for a taste, just a drop, until it turns into something more. I never let them bite me, never.

Once I had been on the lap of my boyfriend-at-the-time, and his teeth brushed over my neck, about to sink in. It was too close of a call. He apologized profusely but in the end, he knew I wasn't safe with him any longer, and he let me go.

I haven't been with a vampire since. I hadn't planned on catching feelings for Eris, yet it wasn't something I could control. It was a feral beast that couldn't be caged no matter the strength of the obstacles. It persisted and fought, then came out without a scar or scratch on it. Untamed and wild.

I was curled into a ball in my bed that was all too large for my body, made for elegant, long limbs I didn't hone.

After an hour of lying with my thoughts, I heard the front double doors open to the frigid cold, wind howling and racking against the windows. Catalina and Vaughn must've returned. I didn't get up to greet them. I could hear the muffle of their voices echoing from down the hall and that was enough.

I couldn't pick out any words, just a slow conversation. Catalina did most of the talking. When vampires fed it was loud, it was messy nauseating, and gruesome. I heard none of it. The duo didn't stay for long, they were in and out within fifteen minutes. Which terrified me. Could they not find anything when hunting? That thought hadn't even occurred to me until now.

I scrambled out of bed and marched right into the sitting room where an empty glass sat on the coffee table, only a few drops sat at the bottom, the remnants of what he'd already drank.

Eris sat on the sofa, his head tilted back with his hands over his face. If he knew I was near he didn't show it. "It'll be dawn soon, you should get some rest," I mutter, his hands leave his face and he looks at me lazily. "Did they bring any more?" I look at the empty glass, the remains showing it was only a quarter full.

"No," He replies blandly.

"What if—" I step closer.

"No," He immediately shuts down.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" I cross my arms with a pout. "I'm not stealing your blood and that is final," He rules.

"It's not stealing if I'm offering," I mumble stubbornly beneath my breath sourly. A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

"That's my girl," He drones, a smirk playing at his lips, with a familiar snarky tone. It felt nice to be back, even if he only got a quarter cup of blood, I didn't want to know which animal it was from. I didn't ask.

"I trust you, Eris," I confess and the word feels foreign on my tongue. Trust. It sent a shiver down my spine, I was taught not to feel that way about anyone, especially not a vampire. Yet here I was, ready to bear my soul to him. "I trust you enough to control yourself," I continue and he opens his mouth to protest but I speak before he can, "I'm begging you, I hate— I hate seeing you like this." We both ignore the stumble of my words, the situation too earnest to hold his usual witty remarks and sly smirks.

"Did you at least drink the chicken blood? Eat any dinner?" I ask when he doesn't reply, only stares at me.

"I ate as much as I could," He reassured. Which told me he had at least a few bites of everything.

"And the blood?" I propped my hands on my elbows like a disappointed mother.

"I drank it," He frowned. "Tasted like the south end of a damned Naga hound," He uttered bitterly and I giggled, a smile spreading over my face because he was back, joking and teasing. "C'mere," He beckons me closer.

My smile fades as I settle over his lap, straddling his hips as he adjusts beneath me, hands on my thighs and I realize it's not to brace me but to put me in control, to push me away if he needs to.

"You're sure about this, sunshine?" He asks.

"It won't hurt, will it?" I whisper and his eyes soften.

"Only a pinch, then the venom will settle in and you'll barely feel a thing," He reassured. I swallow thickly. "I need you to be sure about this," He raises his brows a fraction, stressing his words. I simply nod. "Words, love, use your words," He urges. I swallow down my fear. I'm in control.

"I'm sure, I trust you," I say and his eyes soften, then blaze with desire. Not uncontrolled like Vaughn, but unfiltered need like he's experienced it before he was even starving.

He reaches up to my bare thigh, where the slit of my nightgown was and he pulls my dagger from its holster wrapped around my thigh. "If I don't stop in the first five minutes, use this okay?" He hands me the wooden-bladed dagger. My hand shakes when I take it from him.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Okay," I nod in a rushed manner.

His hands are warm as he moves my hair to one side of my shoulders, the pane of my neck completely bare, my clavicle, my collarbone, and my cleavage all laid out on display by the immodesty of my slip dress. "You're safe," His breath fanned over my neck and I nodded, believing everything that those two words meant.

He didn't bite, instead, his first touch to my skin was a soft brush of his lips, a kiss. It was sweet and innocent, and the feel of it reminded me of that ex-boyfriend, the one who had come so close to biting me, and now I was offering it to another.

His lips linger over my pulse point before they seal along the skin, his tongue flattening to the area before the prod of his fangs, then the incision. His bite was slow and gentle, I felt my warm blood stream from my neck and as soon as the crimson ichor met his tongue he let out an involuntary groan, his mouth working wonders over my throat.

He had been right, it didn't hurt, it had been delectable as if I was the one feeding off of it.

I thought for a moment that I'd pass out when the venom set in, or my mind would shut off entirely and I'd become a husk, but as his tongue lapped at the red and his teeth dug deeper I found myself letting out soft gasps of pleasure, telling me that I was the third and rarest option, the one of arousal.

I smiled at the realization. I didn't want to pass out, I didn't want to lose thought, I wanted to experience this, feel this, bathe in this.

Gods I hadn't expected it to feel so good or I would've done it sooner, would've given him every drop— oh, gods this venom is powerful. I can barely keep my grip on the dagger.

"Eris," I whine out and he continues to drink, his tongue running over the expanse of my neck greedily. I didn't want him to stop, I never wanted this to end.

The dagger tumbled from my hold, my hand in favor of going into his amber hair, my other hand on his jaw as I threw my head back, giving him even better access. Wanted him deeper, wanted him nestled inside of me, wanted every inch of him. I sighed out his name yet again and he met it with a groan of immense pleasure.

He reached for the wooden blade, forcing it back into my hands because even beyond his hazy mind of arousal, he still put my safety above all else.

I grind down over his hips, feeling the hardness in his pants that developed as soon as he tasted me. Was he aroused too? Did he feel the burn in his heart too?

My hands ached to be on his skin, I unbuttoned his shirt with fast hands, palms flattening against his abdomen once I got the white dress shirt off of him. My fingers slide into every crevice of his chest, the muscles of his arms, and the grooves of his back. But by the Mother, I needed more, needed all of him.

Slowly, so slowly, he lifted from my neck. His teeth left my throat licked clean save for the two slits from his canines. I panted, continuing to wind my hips over him in pure lust.

His lips were stained with my blood, a drop cascading from the corner of his mouth but I didn't care, I crashed my mouth onto him and he returned it with a fierce force.

Everything about him was warm and comforting, his large hands roaming my waist, my hips, my thighs. His lips felt like heaven and the metallic taste of myself on his tongue made me entirely feral. He was an expert with his tongue, exploring my mouth with it like he had to memorize the feel as if he might never get the chance again. I couldn't help but imagine what it'd feel like to have his tongue in other places. I continued to rut my hips over his hardened length, earning that friction I craved just as much as he craved my blood.

My legs quivered as he gripped my bare thigh, past the empty holster and up into my flimsy dress. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my panties, holding my bare hip in place, and stopped me from rocking them back and forth. The way he kissed was all-consuming, taking everything from me in just a kiss, it was carnivorous and robbing, he took and took and all I could do was give, all I wanted to do was give. I would've shoved my heart down his throat if he didn't take it.

But then he pulled back and when I chased he gripped my hip tightly in warning, restraining me.

"You're influenced by the venom," He panted and I frowned.

"I want you," I murmured and his grip loosened, but stayed at my hip, a threat.

"The venom is telling you that," He sighs as I slump into his shoulder. "You're intoxicated too, aren't you? That means we both wrongfully consent," I murmur.

"That logic makes no sense— and I'm not intoxicated," He defends. I crease my brows dumbly. He was hard beneath me, I knew that for a fact, and he had just been kissing me like it was all he's ever wanted. So what did he mean?

"I need you," I sigh into the shell of his ear and he shivers at the words.

"I know, I know, my love there are chapter books of things I want to do to you but not tonight, not like this," He refuses and I frown, kissing up the side of his neck, my tongue brushing over the spot that he bit into on my neck, his pulse much slower than mine.

"Let's get you into bed, alright?" He says, his voice is soft.

"I don't want to leave you," I whine, wrapping my arms tighter around him. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" I murmur like a child afraid of the dark, asking to crawl in with her parents.

He sighs. "You mean my coffin?" He mutters and I giggle, kissing up his neck with pure adoration, the sensuality of it all voiding and being replaced by pure affection and soft intimacy.

"You're so funny, 'Ris," I murmur.

"Gods, that venom truly did a number on you didn't it?" He taunts and I incoherently nod my head, continuing my kisses that traveled up his neck.

"Alright fine, you can sleep in my bed tonight," He sighs and I all but cheer, clinging to him tighter with a wide smile as he stands up, cradling me from beneath my thighs and striding off to the end of the hall where his bedroom had lied in this sprawling complex of a mansion.

He laid me in the enormous bed first, the curtains cracked just enough to show the sunrise peering through the drapes. He shuts the sunlight out, leaving us in darkness then slipping in beside me, keeping his distance.

I pout, and without control over my better judgment, I scoot closer, throwing my leg over his torso and my arm around his shoulders. "Cuddle me, please," I whine and he chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling my chest into his. "Can you kiss me?" I test my luck.

"No," He immediately replies, his voice assertive and only making me giggle. 

"You sure?" I croon, my nose brushing against his as he looks down at me with a soft smile before groaning out, "How long is that venom supposed to last? I miss it when you would threaten me," He sighed, but the smile on his face spoke for itself.

"You kissed me earlier, what's so different now?" I persisted.

"Will you go to sleep if I do?" He prompts and I nod, I'd do anything for that kiss.

"Just one, please Eris," I beg and his eyes soften.

"You're going to kill me in the morning," He sighs, then leans down and places a gentle, reluctant kiss on my wanting lips and the taste of him satiates the unrelenting hunger in the pit of my stomach. When he backs away he doesn't let me ask for another and instead pushes my face into the crook of his neck and props his chin atop my head. “Sleep. Now,” He commands and I only sigh in contentment.

The morning came late. I must've slept through half the day. But the male behind me hadn't so much as shifted, even if he'd been up for hours, he stayed, not wanting me to wake up alone.

His arm was around my waist and his breathing was at its normal steady and slow pace, comforting. His chest was warm against my back and his thumb was caressing over the bite mark he had left last night, already a scar.

"Good morning 'Ris," I murmured through a yawn, and his thumb halted against my skin in slight shock.

"I thought you'd never wake up," He mumbles. "That would've been preferred than waking up next to you," I toss.

"There’s my girl," He sighs in relief. "I missed you," He murmured, pressing a kiss over my fresh scar. I turn slightly, hand coming to the back of his neck, looking up into his eyes. The color returned to his face, the glaze over his eyes wasn't one of hunger but rather adoration.

"I missed you too," I mutter, beyond happy to have him back.

"We didn't uh… did we?" I flush bashfully and he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"It hurts that you think you wouldn't already be aware," He grumbles as a smirk tugs at my lips.

"Maybe you didn't make it very memorable?" I hum and he glares at me because we both knew that Eris Vanserra couldn't do anything that wasn't memorable. Especially not sex.

"No, we didn't freak the sheets if that's what you're asking," He moves his hand from your waist and flips onto his back, fingers lacing behind his head, turning away from me.

"You seem disappointed," I observe, flipping on top of him as if he were a second mattress, nestling into his chest.

"We kissed," He muttered, he thought it was best if I knew.

“I remember," I reassured. "And I remember asking for one, and being the gentleman you are you said no, then gave in because I wouldn't shut up," I giggle into the crook of his neck. He peeks one eye open.

"You think I'm a gentleman?" He mumbles. I nod with a tight smile. "That's sweet of you to say sunshine, but unfortunately you've confused me with someone else," He sighs like he's disappointed with the lie that slips from his lips.

"Impossible, I've known you from the moment I met you," I say pulled me up higher, my face hovering above his while my legs sprawled and intertwined with his.

"Yeah? And what’s that?" He arched a brow. I nod, biting into my lower lip.

"A gentleman," I murmur, moving past him and snuggling my head into the crook of his shoulder.

"Is that venom still affecting you?" He asks as I cling to him.

"No," I mumbled. "I just missed you," I explain.

We lay there in silence for a moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on my back as I ran my hand through his fiery red hair.

"What are we going to do when you begin to starve again?" I ask and he sighs, not wanting to think about it.

"We're going to have to go out hunting— I'm afraid the others are going to think you’re prey just as well," He explains. They would. Vampires didn't care who I belonged to, even if it was their lord, I was still fresh blood, and the most craved type at that.

"How many times can you bite me until I turn?" I knew the answer, but I wanted him to know I'd do it again, and that I still felt safe around him.

"On the third bite you'd be turned, which means we can only do this once more," He explains.

"But I don't want to, you're a last resort— you're not even a resort unless you choose to be. Do you understand me?" He stresses.

"Mhm," I nod, clinging to him tighter. "I heard that vampires crave the human they bit until they drain them," I murmur.

"Or they die," He adds.

"So, do you crave me right now?" I ask.

"Your scent is stronger,” He shrugs. but maybe it's because I'm still full it's not affecting me." He adds.

"We should probably go hunting before you start to starve again, how long do you think your fill will last?" I question. "And don't lie to me this time, tell me the truth Eris," I instruct and he huffs.

"Probably by the end of the week, I'll need to feed again," he explains. "So we should go soon, make sure we're prepared if it comes earlier," I plan and he nods.

"Just lay here with me for a moment, don't worry so much about the future right now," He breathes out, tightening his arms around me.

"I can't help it, I'm a mere mortal time is limited," I remind and his smile falters, as if remembering that in the blink of an eye, I'll be old and withered away. He's lived ten times my lifetime, and seen more than I could ever dream of. "You're so old," I grumble and a smile pulls at his lips. "Just stop aging, let me catch up," I mumble.

"I stopped aging hundreds of years ago," He says pointedly and I seal my lips shut because I suppose he was right. "But it's true, I have tattoos older than you princess," He hums and I grin up at him. "Why does that make you smile?" He asks and I shrug.

"I like your tattoos," I say, my hand coming up to his bicep where a dark maroon ink trailed up his arm, tracing my fingertip along the delicate lines. "They're pretty," I mumble and it was his turn to smile.

"Just like me," He says and I roll my eyes, looking at him— he wasn't wrong.

It was no secret that vampires were beautiful beyond belief, but gods this male blew everyone else out of the water.

"You are," I agree because there was no viable way I could argue he wasn't.

His grin widens and I flick my eyes down to that smile, those lips that had been on mine last night, those pointed canines that I allowed to sink into my neck. The same ones I would happily let bite me again.

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[margowritesthings]

BITE ME

pairing: Vampire!Arthur Morgan x Human!f!reader word count: 4091 words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, piv intercourse, fingering (r receiving), biting and blood play, vampire feeding authors note: happy halloween my loves! this is a day late, but time isn't real anyway so we can all just pretend it is yesterday... right?? anyway, this au is now living rent free in my mind. i'm obsessed.

taglist:@cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries@delilah-grimes@mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i @sickvictorianangel

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

The wooden panels nailed to the broken windows of the manor allow for tiny slats of moonlight to invade onto your skin, bathing you in a white glow. Peering through the gaps, you can see the distant campfire those bastard Pinkertons set up down by the swamp, but you know they’re surrounding you, boxing you into Shady Belle like fish in a barrel. 

It’s been three days of a stalemate, the Pinkertons keeping their distance, brave enough to come with guns and firepower but just cowardly enough to not advance towards the monster they’ve heard only legend of, lest he rip their throats out and drain their life away. No, they’d rather wait around until they can drag his starved body out and be hailed heroes.

That “monster” sits mere feet away from you leaning against the wall, pale skin paler still, his chin tilted upwards as he fights the weight of his own skull. It’s killing you, watching your Arthur grow weaker by the hour. Three days of hiding out in Shady Belle, unable to leave for fear of being hunted for sport, but it’s been much longer since he last fed. They have you trapped, completely and truly. If Arthur held even half his usual strength, it would have been so easy to escape. He’d have overpowered them in seconds, no matter their numbers or firepower. But for that, he’d need to feed on the blood of another, which has made things much harder.

You try to relax your worried features when you see him start to wake, rubbing the crease out from between your eyebrows formed by the frown you hold whenever you watch him sleep, too scared to look away in case he stops stirring. 

“Arthur…” You whisper on an exhale, quickly moving to sit beside him on the little bed. As always, his skin feels like marble, cold enough to seep through his shirt and scatter goose pimples over your arms. You’re used to the cold, what you don’t like is the thin layer of sweat coating him. Vampires shouldn’t sweat, but they also shouldn’t go so long without feeding, and the thought of this being a symptom of time running out terrifies you more than any number of monsters out camping in those woods.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Arthur shuffles to make room for you, guiding you to rest your head on his hard chest. There’s normally more muscle here cushioning you from his ribcage, but with Arthur so sick you can feel every bone beneath you.

“You get any sleep?”

There’s always the option to lie so he worries less, but Arthur knows you too well for that, so only the truth will have to do.

You shake your head, “Was keeping watch. They haven’t moved, think they’re still shit-scared of you, actually.” 

Absent-mindedly, Arthur’s hand gravitates to the top of your head, stroking your hair in such a way that sends tingles down your spine. Even now, in the midst of perhaps the most danger you’ve ever been in together, his very touch has the power to calm you instantaneously. 

He huffs a laugh, though you notice the slight wheeze to his breath when he does and another pang of worry hits you, “Course they are. Call themselves goddamn hunters, couldn’t catch a cold in Colter…” A pause, where you fill the silence with that tiny little laugh you’ve barely been mustering lately, then, “You should get some sleep, darlin’.” 

“Not tired.” You protest, almost childishly, burying yourself further into Arthur’s chest. In truth, you’re exhausted, and even though he already knows it, you won’t admit it. You can’t tell him that you’re too scared to fall asleep in case you wake up alone, that there’s no point anyway because nightmares of him withering away to nothing here beside you will drag you back awake soon enough. 

You both know this can’t go on for much longer. Something has to be done, and you know you have to be the one to do it. It’s just the convincing… 

“C’mon, baby…” He starts, but you won’t hear it. You’re not going to sleep. You’re going to fix this.

“You have to feed on me.” You blurt out, glad to be nuzzled into your beloved’s shirt so you don’t have to see whatever expression your statement has pulled from him. 

It’s not spontaneous, no sudden solution that has sprung into your mind this very moment. You’ve suggested it before, albeit never so forcefully, Arthur brushing you off like the idea is unfathomable. Explaining that he would never feed from you, terrified he’d lose control and hurt you. He could never hurt you. If there are such things as absolutes, that is one of them, you know it.

“No.” He’s blunt, clearly hoping his tone had enough force to end it there. But you’re strong, your will to keep fighting for him an everlasting force enough to match his. 

“Arthur-” You unravel from him to sit up and meet his eye, yours pleading, his hardened. 

“Darlin’, I said no. I mean it. I promised you I would never hurt ya’, and shit have I broke a lot of promises in my life… but not that one. N-Never that one. No.” 

“You’re going to die, Arthur. If you don’t do this you’re going to die and you’re gonna leave me all on my own to face those bastards a-and,” Dammit, when did you start crying? “And I can’t do it without ya, Arthur you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can-”

“Well I don’t want to!”  You shout, bursting the bubble of quiet around the Manor, your echo riding the wave of birds flocking out of the trees. Sobs threaten to break your strength, but you have to say this. It’s the very last card you have to play. After a few moments, tension between you growing palpable enough to cut with a knife, Arthur closes his mouth, letting you continue. 

“Arthur, you’re all I have left… You think I’m a sharp enough shooter to get by them? Fine. But say I kill ‘em all, then what? Find somewhere to live and carry on? I ain’t… I can’t lose you, Arthur. But I can save you, if you let me. Please.” 

Time feels as though it stops entirely when you see Arthur actually considering your words. Tears streak your cheeks, but your boots could ignite right on your feet and you might not notice in this moment. He looks so tortured in thought, no doubt imagining the life you would lead if you left him behind. He’s sure you’re strong enough, he knows you can do anything, but his heart breaks thinking of you all alone. 

You reach for Arthur’s hands, feeling his cold skin tremble. 

“I… What if I lose control? What if I hurt you? Sweetheart, you know what I get like when I-”

“But you won’t. You know how much blood I can afford to give you, and I know you, Arthur. You’d never hurt me.” 

You elect not to tell him that any blood that runs through your body belongs to him already, your heart pumping it through your veins only for him. 

You don’t tell him you’d die for him, because you know he’d never let you. 

He’s silent, contemplating. 

Please.

Please.

“...You start feeling faint or anything, you fuckin’ tell me, alright?” His tone holds an attempt at sternness, but it bothers you none. You can hardly hear him for the rush of relief flowing over you. 

“I-I will. I promise.” And you mean it. The two of you are two entwined souls, neither trusting the other to have enough will to keep fighting if anything happened to them. 

Arthur takes a deep breath in, almost like he’s giving himself an extra few seconds to back out of this, before sighing it out. 

“Alright.”

The breath that hitched in your throat an age ago releases and you wipe your tears away hurriedly with the back of your hand. 

“Oh, thank you, Arthur…” You’re so ecstatic, so grateful that he’s letting you save him that all you can do is launch yourself over to him, kissing him with all the passion the universe has offered you to gift him. Your hands fall to either side of his face, caressing his marble skin in a way that emits a tiny groan from him. Over the last few days, you’ve cuddled up to him a lot, but there hasn’t been much contact like this. Needy and wanting, loving and layered with everything from I Love You to Let Me Save You. Arthur is a starved man, but not just for blood. For you, body, blood and soul. 

Arthur snakes one arm around your waist, even with his reduced strength still able to pull you over to straddle his lap. You’d have protested, citing that he’s too sick to be holding your weight like this, but now that this is really happening you’re getting kind of nervous, and the thought of being so close to him, arms wrapped around your frame while he feeds on your blood, comforts you hugely. And there’s no backing out, not from this, so straddle him you will. 

Despite everything, Arthur’s cool touch sets you aflame. He trails his fingertips up and down your spine, his other hand firmly gripping your ass. His tongue teases your bottom lip until you open up to him, tasting him as he does you. He tastes…like Arthur. He might argue that he’s some monster, committing evil acts in the name of survival, but you know better. He’s your Arthur, he always has been. 

The world melts around you, leaving just you and Arthur, loving each other, saving each other. That one long kiss breaks into smaller ones, until Arthur is peppering your lips, cheeks and nose with tiny kisses, glistening red eyes welling with emotion.

“It was always gonna be you, wasn’t it? You were always gonna save me…” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.

“Always. And you’re gonna save me right back, cowboy. But first…” You look down between your two bodies, to the arm you’re holding out to Arthur. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Does it hurt?” You surprise yourself with your answer to his question, though you stand by it. You’re not scared, you could never be scared with Arthur. But nervous?

“A little. But I’m right here with you. And if you need to stop or take a break or you start feeling off, tell me or tap my arm.” You nod slowly, placing your hand into Arthur’s, “I need a yes, sweetheart… I can’t do this to you unless you’re sure.”

“Yes, Arthur. I’m sure. Please.”

There is one final, apprehensive glance in your direction, which you reply to with another tiny nod. He raises your flesh to his mouth, flashes of his white fangs visible now in the moonlight as he parts his lips. 

It’s… strange. A small scratching feeling when his teeth puncture the skin of your wrist that pinches your brows together. There’s a second of nothing, before Arthur starts to feed and steals the breath right out of your lungs. 

It’s like you can feel every vein in your body, all connecting and tugging your lifeforce through to your wrist for Arthur to feast on. You can tell the second the first drop hits his tongue, the shudder that wracks through his shoulders and down his spine. His eyes roll back in… pleasure? You’ve seen him feed before, usually such a violent affair, but this is different. You feel vulnerable to him, and as though you hold every ounce of control all at once. 

When he groans, deep carmine eyes locking onto yours, you feel it all over, your thighs clenching around your suddenly wanting pussy. 

… An unexpected side effect. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the blood rushing around your body, or even the downright ravenous way Arthur is looking at you while he feeds on your blood, but you seem to be physically squirming on the bed, desperate for any kind of friction you can get. Fuck, you’ve never seen anybody react to being fed on like this… Then again, you’ve never seen feeding look or feel like this.

From even the smallest drop of you, what little colour that remains after his change has returned to Arthur’s skin and he looks much closer to alive than just minutes before. He looks himself again, right down to the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It does maddening things to you, not at all helping your growing state of arousal. 

When his teeth sink out of your wrist, you watch crimson beads pool at two tiny punctures. Without breaking eye contact with you, Arthur lifts your hand back up to him, running the very tip of his tongue agonisingly slowly over the skin, pulling an honest to god whimper from your parted lips.

“You did so good, my good girl…” Arthur coos, an undeniably pleased look upon his face. He’s told you before, that with his heightened senses, Arthur knows when you want him. You also know how energised he gets after feeding, and how all of these factors are leading to a tension so intense between you you’re almost scared of the outcome.

There’s a smudge of blood on Arthur’s lip, one that you reach out to rub away with your thumb. Quick as the predator he is, he grabs your wrist before you can pull away, slipping your thumb into his mouth and sucking the blood gently off. Upon release, he drags one sharpened fang across the pad of your thumb and you shudder, craving that feeling of the bite more than you truly understand.

“A-Arthur…” You whimper, shuddering in pure anticipation and need. 

“I know, sweetheart… Christ, I knew you’d taste good, but this? Fuck, you’ve ruined me, baby…”

You can’t wait a second longer, certain you’ll perish unless he is kissing you in the next moment. Entangling your grip into his collar, you find Arthur only too malleable to your touch, all but pouncing on you, locking your lips together. His tongue demands entrance as he easily positions you to be laying under him, Arthur covering the entire length of you and thensome. 

“How do you feel, angel?” He asks between kisses, large hands roaming your body, tugging your clothes out of being tucked into each other to make it easier to take them off, “Y’alright? Don’t feel faint?”

“I’m okay. I just- I-I need you, please.” You’re pleading again, this time for very different reasons, “Did you get enough?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, sweetheart…” He growls, pulling the buttons of your shirt open feverishly. And then his lips are back on your skin, kissing your neck, licking at the skin whilst his hands work your zipper. You moan again, some wanton part of you wishing he would bite down again, marking you all over. 

Arthur is losing control in the best way, growling and grinding his erection against your leg as he tries to pull your jeans down. With a little help, he manages, tugging your undergarments with them so you’re completely bare for him. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful… my perfect little feast. Fuck, I’m tortured by every second I’m not buried deep inside that weeping cunt of yours,” At that, he runs a finger over your slit, drenching the tip of his finger in your slick, “but I think you deserve a treat for being such a good girl for me…” 

There’s no time to consider his offer as he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them, curling them to hit that sweet spot he knows so well. You scream, absolutely loud enough for any Pinkerton vampire hunters to hear.

“That’s it, huh? That what you needed? That pretty little cunt filling?” He taunts, thumb swirling over your already soaking clit. You can’t speak for crying out, but you manage a nod, feeling yourself stretch around a third finger in a way that has your heart racing even faster.

With your pulse pounding, you can really feel the wounds on your wrist starting to ache and burn. It's a strange sensation, but one that seems to blend into everything else in some twisted bout of pleasure.

Arthur must notice your eyes flickering to it, as he guides your hand back up to his lips with the hand not inside you, pressing the softest kisses over the holes in your skin. 

“Look what you did for me… My saviour, my perfect girl…”

“I’d die for you, Arthur.” you confess, the sweetness of his kisses and the languid circles of his fingers pulling you so close to the edge you can feel tears forming behind your eyes.

“It’d never come to that, beautiful. I’d burn the world down before I let your life ever hang in the balance.”

You believe him, too, and the emotion is suddenly too much. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you need him closer and all you can seem to think to do is untangle your wrist from his grasp and slip your thumb into his mouth.

He knows what you’re asking for instantly, and you swear you see his inky pupils blow until his eyes are nothing but a reddened void. 

“Oh, my pretty little feast…” He groans, pricking your thumb with a fang and sucking gently at the blood. It isn’t nearly as intense as your wrist, but you still feel that tugging everywhere and you can’t stop the lewd moans that fall from your lips as you come undone. 

Writing, screaming his name, you feel Arthur suck harder on your thumb, moaning himself at the taste of you. It’s not nearly as much as he was taking before, but enough that your blood blooms over his tongue and fills every one of his senses. He is a man obsessed, and it’s the most beautiful sight as you cum for him. 

The waves of euphoria crash over you, each more intense and wonderful than the last. Arthur orchestrates your orgasm through his own pleasure, drawing perfect patterns on your clit in time to his thrusts. 

When you come down, he’s there, releasing you from his fangs again to free his lips for yours. Your lips lock together, his body crushing yours into the mattress. You love the feel of all his weight on you, especially when you can feel every pulse of his throbbing cock through the denim of his jeans. Jeans that must go, so you snake a hand into what little space you can between your bodies to reach for his buttons. Arthur helps you, and he’s soon naked on top of you. Wrapping nimble fingers around his shaft, you run your thumb over the rosy head of his cock, swiping at the bead of precum already leaking. He’s desperate for you, and it drives you wild. 

You’re already guiding him to your soaked entrance, grinding your hips pathetically, needily. Arthur chuckles softly, taunting you with the smallest of hip movements to slide his tip into you, but stopping there. 

“Arthur.” You whine, eyes pleading, cunt dripping for him. Your hands roam the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle twitch under your touch, scratching at the cool skin like a cat in heat. 

“I know, baby, I know… I’ll make it better.” He purrs, finally sliding the entire length of his cock into your heat. It stretches you in that beautiful way only he can and you moan, deep and visceral. Your nails leave white scratches across Arthur’s back as your hands float up to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss as his groin presses hard into yours.

“Oh, my beautiful girl… I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’re gonna hear you up in Saint Denis… them Pinkertons out there are gonna think I’m draining every last drop of that sweet blood out of your precious little body.”

Such a violent image, but somehow… you enjoy the thought. You’d bleed for him till the end of time, gladly… you’d lay down your life on a slab and be Arthur’s for the taking. 

You can’t think of the words to tell him how much you want what he’s telling you, letting the passion guide you to bite down on Arthur’s lower lip. A taste of his own medicine. He has no blood of his own to give, but you’re biting down hard enough to have drawn some if he did, dragging another feral grown from the depths of his throat. 

True to his word, with just a few perfectly timed thrusts, you’re screaming his name, cunt fluttering around his thick cock and squeezing every inch of it. That full feeling is so wonderful, so bone-deep and euphoric you’re on the precipice of another orgasm in seconds. He can tell, slowing down and hanging you right over the edge with a wicked grin on his face. You whine and whimper, clawing at the back of his neck to pull him even closer.

“What do you want, little feast? Use your words.” He pushes, still dragging his cock up against your walls in the most torturous of ways. 

“I want… I-I need… I-I… urgh!” You cry out in frustration, each syllable leaving your lips earning another thrust that dizzies you to the point of cock-drunk stuttering. Fuck words. You’ll show him. 

With a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull Arthur closer, guiding him to the crook of your neck. 

“Angel, I don’t know if I can control myself if I taste you agai-”

“Please…” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet Arthur’s movements, clit grinding deliciously against his pubic bone. 

Arthur’s eyes meet yours and you’re lost in them, convinced you’ve never been held so close to climax for so long before, but your body knows what it wants, what it needs to get there with Arthur. 

“Fuck, if I could die, you’d be the death of me…” Are the last words he speaks before sinking his teeth into your neck, in perfect time with a deep thrust of his cock. You scream, in pain, in pleasure, all of it, finally falling over that cliff and crashing into the waves below. You drown in your orgasm, dragging Arthur down with you as he sucks the sweet ichor out of your veins. With your blood on his tongue and his name on your lips, you cum together. The vibrations of his carnal moans tickle your neck, layering yet another juxtaposing sensation onto you. 

He releases, only to whisper sweet words of praise into your bleeding skin, “Look at you, giving me this… you’re doing so good for me, ain’t ya? My little angel, my good girl…”

And he’s biting down again, and you’re chanting his name, legs wrapped tight around his hips, tears you don’t remember shedding streaking down your cheeks. It feels like you stay there for an eternity, connected mind, body and soul. You would stay there for an eternity with him, if he’d only let you. But that’s another story…

It stings a little when Arthur unleashes his teeth from you, and you wince. His hand is there instantly, caressing the surely reddened skin as his brows pull together, “You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I? Y’feelin’ alright?” 

You shake your head softly, a blissful smile gracing your lips, “I’m perfect.” 

“Damn straight you are.” He remarks, slowly sliding out of you and lowering his weight onto the bed beside you. 

“What about you? How are you feeling?” You ask, entwining your fingers together and holding them up into the moonlight. There's a streak of your blood crossing over a few of Arthur’s knuckles. It suits him. 

“Never better.” He says honestly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you, darlin’. I’ll never be able to thank ya’ enough for what you did, but I promise you I’ll get us out of here alive. Well… y’know what I mean.” 

You giggle, sure you may never get used to the fact that the love of your life is dead. 

“You don’t need to thank me, Arthur. You’ve given me your life a million times, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”

And you mean it. You would do it a thousand times over, giving your life to Arthur while he gives his afterlife to you, saving each other until the end of time. 

[jazzmasternot]

Hazbin hotel college AU head cannons

Note: decided to write these out after reading @sprainedwriting’s fanfic about Adam being a frat boy and I took that concept and ran with it.

Obviously this is based off of my own university experience where I attend a really big public university in the southern US. so that’s where my takes are coming from.

This is also my first time writing anything on here so there’s that aswell.

Charlie

Majors in musical theatre, but not performance education. She wants to be the unhinged theatre teacher that everyone loves. Lives in one of those really fancy student apartment lofts with keke. And is part of the cat club where she feeds the cats on campus

Vaggie

She probably does something super hard like biomedical engineering (let’s go women in stem!) which takes up allot of her time already. Is also an RA for one of the dorms on campus which is good for her bc free housing and gets paid to do her homework at the front desk. Met Charlie in an English class and have been together ever since. When she’s not on call she’s spending the night at Charlie’s and Charlie’s almost always sitting at the front desk with vaggie even tho she doesn’t work or live at the dorm and no one says anything bc it’s just not that deep.

Alastor

Majors in audio engineering and runs the campus radio station that people definitely still listen too. He went to community college first then transferred to a four year (to save money ofc) and is a commuter where he still lives with his mom. Does work study where he works the front desk of the library where he does his homework and works on his scripts for his radio show. Has no interest in working with Vox since he runs the tv channel simply bc he doesn’t want all that extra work. Still takes his notes on pen and paper and still has a nightmare of a time figuring out to electronically submit all his assignments and take his tests.

Angel dust

Okay so hear me out he majors in math ikik it sounds crazy but every gay math major I’ve ever met acts just like Angel dust. Goes to raves and frat parties even tho the guys don’t want him there but he always brings girls with him so the kinda have to let him in. Does nude modeling for extra cash at the art school so he’s kinda a celeb over there even tho he’s not in anyway related to that major.

Husk

Majors in Restaurant and hotel management and is one of those college students that are in their late twenties so already has more life experience than most other ppl here so he doesn’t do allot of the stupid college that allot of other ppl do. Lives in some off campus apartment that’s just a large house rented out to students made to look like a apartment (yk the ones in talking abt) works at the dive bar located just off campus that everyone goes to atleast once in their four years.

Sir pentious

Majors in mechanical engineering or industrial design I can’t really decided. Definitely uses the 3D printer all the time and is on the robotics team, which wins every competition they go to.

Nifty

She’s changed her major so many times nobody knows anymore. Is part of the kpop club and has biases complete with intricately decorated covers, like she has so many photo cards. Also runs the campus hotties account where it’s just a bunch of candids of cute guys taken from far away. Will also get really pissed if you don’t wash your dishes bc it will attract bugs so if ur her roommate you better do the dam dishes.

Cherry bomb

Art major and is the one who got Angel the nude modeling gig. Is always pulling all nighters bc she kept postponing the assimgment till the last minute. Has probably vandalized a couple buildings surrounding the university but hasn’t been caught. Goes to raves and the aforementioned frat parties with Angel. Also has a traffic cone in her dorm room for no other reason than just bc.

Vox

Majors in multi media marketing, runs the campus tv and YouTube channel. Definitely the president of a frat that inflates his ego more than it already is. Always at sporting events at the front row with all the frat guys giving everyone the inside scoop and game commentary. Is very pissed that alastor won’t work with him. Treats himself like a campus celebrity even tho ppl could care less and are just trying to get their degree.

Valentino

majors in film and media productions yeah he’s one of those. Always asking if you’ve seen pulp fiction and telling you that you need to watch some random black and white movie that’s only in French. Will definitely invite you over to watch something with you but we all know that’s not the case. Also all his film projects has allot of unnecessary nudity and sex under the guise of artistic expression, even when it’s so not relevant to the plot. Unless it’s a film that he’s making for the university in which case Vox is controlling every aspect of it which in this case is a good thing. Smokes in his dorm room without a care in the world and has really loud inconsiderate sex at any random point in the 24 hour day cycle.

Velvette

Majors in public relations and runs the university’s Instagram account. She’s always walking up to ppl with a lil microphone to ask you to tell us what you’re wearing. Speaking off she always comes to class dressed up (like the international students) no leggings and tennis shoes for her. Also is definitely in a divine nine sorority, and runs their insta too.

Carmilla

She’s a professor for the aerospace engineering dept and shes here bc she got sick of making rockets for Lockheed Martin and reatheon. Hella smart and ppl are baffled that she chose to give up a seven figure job to teach a bunch of college kids but she’s so chill abt it tho.

Zestial

Definitely English lit professor, makes you read the books no one’s heard of and not the classics. Always brings his own open regular coffee mug from his house to sip his tea from instead of a thermos, everyone asks how he doesn’t spill it on his ride to work. Also just straight up has an electric kettle in his office so he can have tea whenever he wants. Takes turns with carmilla eating lunch in each other’s offices.

Rosie

Studies agriculture sciences and food processing. Will probably run a slaughter house when she’s done with her degree. Hangs out with Alastor in his radio booth from time to time just to gossip about whatever drama is going around lately. Wears long skirts and a tote bag all the time. Is always sweet to Charlie and Emily, also loathes Vox just as much as Alastor she just finds him annoying.

Lucifer

Is probably a religion professor that’s not religious at all and is super laid back in his class like one easy discussion board post a week. The kinda guy to be like “it’s so nice out let’s have class outside today guys” or “if I make this shot ur all getting extra credit on the quiz this week”.

Adam

Definitely majors in finance and is a frat boy. And his band plays at all the said frat parties. Is very insufferable to talk to at parties will try tell you how crypto is the currency of the future and how wolf of Wall Street is his favorite movie. Has a Saturdays are for the boys flag in his room and navy blue sheets. Oh did I mention he vapes he definitely vapes those Mike Tyson ones that taste awful and look like bricks yeah those. Always gets drunk at the tailgate way before the game is even started.

Lute

Yeah she’s in premed and wants everyone to know she’s better than you bc of it. Everyone else’s major is easy compared to hers so don’t you dare complain about all your assignments in her vicinity. She’s basically made it her whole identity like she’s in the premed honors society, future doctors of America. Types her notes on her laptop and then rewrites them with all her gel pens and fancy highlighters, like thee be so colorfull and pretty then the title would be something like blood clots. Still friends with Adam bc they went to the same highschool together and always helping him with his homework in turn he gets her into the tailgate tents and frat parties so she always gets free alcohol.

Emily

Majors in Elementary education and looks like it too, with the Stanley cup, James Avery charm bracelet, and all. She also takes super pretty notes but she does them in class which is super power all in itself, like her desk is scattered with gel pens and highlighters of every color and swears by her bullet journal. She also feeds the cats on campus with Charlie and runs the arts and crafts club on campus where they always host events like tote bag painting in the grass area of the university. Also doesn’t drink bc she’s not twenty one yet even tho she’s in college and definitely won’t smoke even tho most of the ppl that show up to her events are total potheads

Sera

She’s like the university president who doesn’t actually GAF abt the students and just fund’s athletics and raises tuition every year under miscellaneous fees. She tries to come off as supportive when she’s out in public but no one’s buying it.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

📚 10 f1 fics i've loved lately 🏎️

been thinking a lot about how to organise fic recs into some sort of sensible post, 'cus there are so many (great!) pairings and (delicious!) driver combinations, not to mention so many varying styles of fic and SUPER TALENTED WRITERS!!111!!

just gonna list a bunch in no particular order, with accompanying pics, so you can get a sense of the vibes.

'cus what is f1 rpf but all about the ✨ vibes?! 🏁

p.s. people are in this community making amazing stuff for freeee!! if you liked these please leave a kudos or a comment, it makes a writer's day 🫡 

let's gooooo--

objects in the mirror by linearity (@drivestraight) charles/max. 87k words (series), rated t then e

listen. LISTEN! charles to rbr is one of the best premises ever and i will read it in like a thousand iterations. but this fic. this fic series in particular cleared my skin, made me want to cut my hair into a bob out of sheer emotion. i would be remiss not to start with this one because its impact on my f1 rpf trajectory should be studied by science. you know when a story just jumps off the page and it's so real that it becomes your canon. a kind of meteoric inevitability. plus, i almost never cry at fics. but by the time the third act of this one hit, i just went -- damn, am i rly about to tear up at a f1 rpf fanfiction rn? (yes.)

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sawtooth by nottonyharrison (@nottonyharrison) charles/max. 40k words, rated e

max as a f1 engineer? for CARLOS at FERRARI? sign me the fuckkk up. first off, awesome premise. there's always going to be something so heartwrenching about "what ifs", especially in any universe where max isn't a racer. despite the change of circumstances, just... the sheer poetry of two characters who just inexplicably find their way to each other in any universe... 🤧 also this story nails racing scenes in a way that's so visceral, i feel like a fly on the damn halo with them. and, aside from the gourmet lestappen, carlos's whole thing in this fic is joyous! spicy! he's so unapologetic and vaguely annoying! hilarious! + the swimming pool scene lives rent-free in my head.

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salt skin by peachbellini (@strawberry-daiquiris) oscar/lando. 12k words, rated e

this fic is magic. literally and figuratively. (MERMAID LANDO???? MERMAID LANDO.) the kind of story that makes you gasp and melt a little bit. and made me want to throw my phone at the writer, 'cause it's really that good. the yearning, the metaphor for all that's monstrous, a boy who is lost (and the boy who he finds, is equally so). this is just beautifully written and a little quirky and so well executed. i think i put it in my bookmarks as "what if lando was a mermaid and it was filmed by a24" or something. pearl of a story.

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hockey!! shrimp colors :) by leafmeal0ne (@ocontraire) oscar/lando. 13k words, rated t

leaf meal one. i have only known you a week but if anything were to happen to you i would wreck everyone in the room including myself. in all seriousness, anything that leaf writes is brilliant. they're one of these writers who could do a throwaway line on the label of a ketchup bottle and i will probably scream about it. the precision, the way they switch up sentence structures, the freaking darcy-level regency yearning transposed onto a contemporary sports setting. i'd rec all of leaf's sports AUs and i'll probably talk about more in a future fic rec post. BUT. the hockeyyy one my GOD. the barely restrained violence, their mutual desire, the theme of finding your place... *wails uncontrollably*

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you almost unearthly thing by anonymous max/daniel, 3.7k words, rated g

max is a governess(govern..lad?) and daniel is the mystery man at the manor. this was a response to a request i made in the kinkmeme! (if you haven't read those fics go check 'em out, there are so many great ones, and not necessarily all rated e). this is a criminally underrated little story that has my favourite repressed feelings + people dancing around each other + gothic vibes + "what the hell is wrong with y'all in this tale" combo that i really adore. it's really well written and captures the atmosphere so well.

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the so-called narrative by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) oscar/carlos, 10k words, rated e

i'm once again asking why there are only 7 carlos/oscar works in the tag. I'M ONCE AGAIN ASKING-- *is sedated*. *jolts awake* okay but for real this is a great story. hot, fake-friendship-to-situationship which so happens is one of my favourite places to be. also hello miscommunication/they're so weird about it/they both want each other but can't express themselves for shit/insane racer boys energy.

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and silver, and samarium by pink_mink (@on-softs) george/toto, 5.2k words, rated e

i profess i am not usually the biggest fan of A/B/O (altho!! this fandom has made me go BUT ACTUALLY HM at least a few times). and this fic freaking nails it, along with the twisted power dynamics between TPs and drivers, as seen through the lens of omegaverse. this story rattles around my head like a stubborn ghoul just from the style and prose and sheer audacity alone. george kneeling at toto's knees while he's working..... ohhhhhhhhh i was this close to calling my lawyers.

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algorithm by anney (@badboy-george) charles/max, 16k words, rated e

i LOVE, LOOOOVE a sci fi concept alright. love that shit, will inhale it like moon dust with zero regrets. and what a fantastic one this one is!! the premise is that the FIA can now statistically show the compatibility of drivers on the grid and it's very pacific rim-y drift compatible, mixed with the surreal vibes of eternal sunshine or HER or some such. it should be outrageous, but it really works. that's the beauty of a great fic right there.

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trajectory of trojan asteroids by redpaint (@redpaint) nico/lewis, 3.3k words, rated g

also one of the fics i first read when i hopped on board the f1 rpf train. the pain and poignancy just gets worse the more i learn about brocedes. you know when you're like "there's no way this was reallll" and then you're like "fuck, it was so real". then you get a fic like this that just encapsulates all that rage and loss and grief and upset, set against the starry vista of endless space. *clutches tablecloth* god.

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p.s please bear in mind that these recs are entirely subjective! i enjoy loads of f1 stories but these are the ones that have especially stuck with me for some inexplicable reason.

p.p.s if your fic is on here and you want it taken off for whatever reason, i'm happy to, no questions asked 💛

BYE for now / until part 2. (i also love talking to ppl about fics so pls feel free to send an ask or hit me up in DMs or whatever.)

xoxo, -- wizz

[deathnguts]

Selkie! Regulus and Fisherman! Remus... they live rent free in my head. Like Regulus just has such selkie beauty, yknow? Otherworldly and something you’ll never truly, fully tame or own despite wedding but still delicate and perfect. And Remus is just so creaky little village folklore protagonist it’s honestly hilarious, yes this man lives in a routine until he’s gray and literally can’t anymore with his air of mystery and calloused hands but distinctly kind eyes. Match made in stories told under the stars around campfires if you ask me.

Ok so I think this au could be imagined two ways. 1, Remus meets human regulus first and 2, Remus meets seal regulus first. Both go differently but are both very fun.

So number 1 would be classic tumblr fantasy. Regulus is a beautiful stranger who keeps to himself and showed up almost out of thin air in the misty fishing town in Wales that Remus lives in. Regulus is so new and beautiful he can’t help but catch the eye. I imagine Remus sees him for the first time when Regulus is out on the beach, just watching the water, and Remus is coming down the dock to go home for the night. It’s late and quiet besides the waves of the sea, dark besides the light of the moon, and this stranger could almost be mistaken for a ghost with how the pale rays bounce off their skin and perfectly white coat they have draped just past their shoulders. He leaves them be because it’s late and he’s not creepy. He sees them again at the only local bookstore, sat at one of the only desks in the small shop with a few books piled next to them and their manicured fingers turning the aged pages of the book they had open. Again, Remus just can’t look away. Their curls are loose around their face and they keep having to tuck them behind their ears, which are pierced with shiny pearl earrings. Their eyes are intently focused and strikingly pale blue and Remus only realizes he’s been staring when he realizes those eyes are on him now. He flushes and stumbles over his words to try and apologize but the stranger doesn’t seem perturbed, they say it’s alright and they were leaving anyway. Remus wonders how long he’d really been just watching them because they seem farther in their book when they close it and they knock the coat he remembers them wearing the other night off the back of the chair they were sitting on when they reach for a bookmark. Remus picks it up for them, since it’s the least he can do, and hands it back while they gather their things. Except they’ve stopped gathering their things because now their entrancing eyes are wide and staring at him with blown pupils and awe. Remus doesn’t understand and is still embarrassed from before, so he gets them to take their coat and rushes off. He meets them again when they appear at his door a few days later with a ring and a fierce blush as they explain that it’s unfair to only be married the human way, and oh dear god what has Remus gotten himself into.

Very silly, much shenanigans, very cute I think.

The second is more whimsical. Remus is out late fishing, maybe fell asleep earlier that night out of sheer exhaustion from work or other and is now waking up far past his usual docking time. He’s groggy and delirious when he sees a glowing white light in the water. He thinks he’s dreaming when it’s head pokes out and it’s a seal. Remus doesn’t know if seals should be in this water but he does know they shouldn’t be glowing. The seal coos and swims for a little before disappearing and leaving Remus wondering if it was even real as he sails back to the docks. But he’s assured it was when he sees the seal more and more over the next few months. He becomes more and more familiar with it, more delighted to see it. He talks to his mother about it one day and she immediately tells him he’s seen a selkie, because she’s superstitious like that, and he doesn’t really believe her at first but it becomes undeniable as the weeks turn to months and the seal gets more and more friendly with him. Eventually culminating in Remus probably hearing his selkie’s song from human tongue for the first time, and seeing that form to boot.

Man falling for a folktale and a folktale falling for a man. Very fairytale, very wondrous, very ‘true loves kiss’ vibe.

But also I lied and there’s a third option that’s sort of an off shoot of two. Werewolf Remus meets seal regulus first.

Remus spends his moons as a werewolf by the water, near rocky caves where no one dare venture at night. The waves calm the monster and he doesn’t out anyone in danger out here. He’s used to coming here with not much to remember the next morning but then one day he remembers almost a dreamlike memory of his wolf padding down to the water and meeting a glowing... fish? Hm, strange. But Moony remembers it perfectly every moon and starts to view the magical seal as its friend, chasing it along the shoreline and bumping snouts with it and stuff. As moony grows fond of the ‘fish’ Remus remembers its existence more, and since he’s literally a werewolf in this idea he stomaches the idea of selkies pretty easily and realizes he’s probably visiting a selkie every moon and goes back on nights it’s not the moon to maybe see it with human eyes. The seal is wary of the human form since it doesn’t know if only the wolf means no harm but quickly learns Remus is nice too and reveals itself as human too rather easily. The human forms connect just as quickly as the animal forms did and their love is so much more intimate since they understand like literally no one else what it’s like to be an adjacent human with animal needs and such.

Literally their most primal halves meeting and falling first, folklore on folklore romance, ‘lets be otherworldly together’ type of vibe. Immaculate, adorable, also I just like including Moony in moonwater fics.

[philtstone]

title: check yes, juliet

Summary:

It doesn't matter that Juliet is a freshly-minted, top-of-her-class field agent (alright, so she hasn't actually been in the field yet) or one of the few women working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's cutting edge check fraud department (just last week, their 20-year-old coffee maker broke and they ran out of number two pencils to mark up their overhead projector notes with): every time her mother calls, all she does is lament that her beautiful, intelligent daughter isn't meeting any eligible bachelors.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Maryanne sighs eventually. “All O��Hara women fall for liars, Julie. It’s our curse.”

Juliet has to wonder if she didn't scoff at her mother's claim a little bit too soon.

my brother & i had the earth shattering realization a month ago that the plot of "catch me if you can" (2002) is almost to a tee just a mildly alternate psych timeline and that thought has lived in my head rent free to such an insane degree that eventually 14 thousand words poured out of me in au fic form. im posting it so as many other people as possible can see the vision. and also because im sure theres one person other than me who revels in early seasons shawnjuliet's frankly insane levels of chemistry, lol. enjoy!

READ FULL FIC ON AO3

Excerpt:

“Your average bounced check would be routed to the bank it originates from, so you’d only really have a few days in one place before you were discovered. This guy’s been filing off the routing numbers, changing ‘em somehow – so cleanly and neatly that it’ll take a real sharp eye to notice. It’s all about the branch you’re cashing it in. A check cashed in at Chase Manhattan with the one changed to ten’s gonna bounce halfway around the country before anyone figures out it’s rotten, and by that point this asshole is long gone. The numbers go East, Central, West – you see how they cover 0-60, 70-80, and of course they require a special kind of ink to be recognized as real checks, which you’d all know if you’d read the report I circulated …”

Juliet doesn’t notice the full cup of orange juice in front of her until it’s too late. 

Her head’s still full of Carlton’s two hour long briefing this morning, during which she learned more about check fraud than she’d have ever thought a single person could in one lifespan. Certainly not Juliet, who’d originally studied literature at Florida State. Then again, back then she’d have never expected to end up an FBI agent, either.

Then there’s the wired, tense feeling in her gut that probably won’t go away ‘til this sting is over and they bring in the pathetic local guy Carlton’s been tracking for the last week. His MO is pretty girls in pastel dresses, which made Juliet the right man – woman – for the job. At least maybe doing this’ll help the guys in the office take her seriously as a field agent. And, well … she does love a nice peachy pink cardigan. The color goes well with her complexion.

“This idiot’s no real con man, he’s just a clown who can’t be bothered to work an honest job. Child’s play compared to the real thing. ” Carlton tends to pause here, angry that he’s got to acknowledge it like that – the real thin g. “ You know what they’ve been calling him in the papers these days?”  

Him . Always him. They don’t have a name on the subject yet, despite over a million cashed in fraudulent checks. Juliet hums and nods so her partner feels acknowledged. 

“ The skywayman . Pathetic. Like he’s some magician or something, instead of a two-bit liar who thinks he’s smarter than me. ”

“This isn’t personal, Carlton ,” Juliet says tiredly. “ It’s not like he knows who you are to be deliberately toying with you.”  

“Oh yes he is. I know he is. I know him .”

Her hands aren’t quite shaking, because that would be stupid; this guy, their local guy, shouldn’t have a gun on him, and if he does he’s not the type to shoot a woman. Juliet focuses on the paper in front of her and tucks a lock of her hair behind one ear. A window of ten minutes – that’s what Carlton said. Unlike Carlton’s unsub nemesis, they know plenty about this one. He’ll come in, dressed like the middle-aged schlub he is, loose tie probably, gray slacks, thinning hair. He’ll notice her, buy her a soda she’ll accept with a faulty check and then pick her pocket for the cash. The string of pearls at her neck makes her a sweet college girl whose parents have money. She mentally forces herself to stop chewing her lip and instead moves her right hand down to her lap, where she can pick at her nail polish without anyone seeing. 

“Well, obviously we wanna catch him,” Agent Dobson says, when they’re a third of the way through the morning briefing and half the room is asleep or dreaming of lunch. Juliet, of course, has been furiously taking notes. He means the Skywayman; he means the real thing. “But you gotta admit, Lassiter, there is a bit of a magic show to a good con, isn’t there? The press has that one thing right.”

“It’s not magic. It’s lies and deceit and a healthy helping of audacity, and a damn good typewriter. O’Hara, write that down. We’re gonna go through that list of makes and models again, see what we can come up with.”

Deep breath. Her purse, orange to match the cardigan, is in her lap. The gun’s in the purse. She’ll draw it, but not to shoot. This is the kind of work she’s begged the Chief for, and she’ll be just fine.

Maybe Juliet would feel less desperate to prove herself if this diner wasn’t in Miami, and her father didn’t gift her the only string of pearls she owns.

A voice clears itself quietly above her.

“Uh, excuse me? Hi, yeah, hi. That’s my seat.”

READ MORE

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴ'

Summary: When trouble in paradise ruins your otherwise perfect life, you find yourself fleeing in a rented car and heading off into the sunset. Stopping for a quick bite to eat along your journey in a dusty roadside diner, trouble finds you there too. And things quickly take a turn for the worse.

Notes: Around 11.4k words. This is a prequal to my first fic, Stripped Bare, but you don't have to read it for this one to make sense. Caleb remains turned and everyone lives AU.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, death, blood. Severen is NOT nice in this. He sees the reader as prey and treats her as such until right up at the end. He gets a little nicer. The reader does not like Severen in this, apart from mild flirting in the beginning, but all those feelings quickly go out the window due to regular Hooker clan antics. The reader goes through it in this. Violence such as biting at and aggressive hair pulling is committed against her, so please don't read if that is triggering to you.

Part II

You should have known it would have turned out this way. It was doomed from the start, feigned interest and superficial attraction embellished underneath plastic "I love you's" and planned kisses. What hurts you the most is how blind you were to it all. Force fed lies by everyone in your life, Sam, his father, your friends- hell even your own parents had told you that you were just making assumptions. Being paranoid.

That all of the late work nights, the impromptu business meetings, the abrupt hushed phone calls throughout the day. They were perfectly normal things. Nothing to be concerned about. "It's just business, muffin. " Your father had told you once, reading the morning paper while sipping coffee from a ceramic mug. " He has to make money for all those pretty dresses you wear somehow." 

God, you had been so stupid. You had let everyone blindfold you and muffle your ears because you were too afraid of the truth. Too scared to accept the fact that the man you have loved since you were nineteen had turned his back on you. He spat on your three-year long relationship like it was nothing. All for his secretary . . . And that cute blonde maid at his father's country club. 

You can't help glancing away from the cracked backroad to sneer at your left hand that clutches the steering wheel in a death grip. Your ring finger is now startlingly bare, no longer shackled by the thick band of yellow gold and the obnoxiously large sapphire diamond - a horrid caricature of princess Diana's engagement ring. Lack of originality is what it was.  And to think you had been so overjoyed when he had gotten down on one knee and proposed. But you do still feel some satisfaction to know that the ring is gone. Sold off in some greasy pawn shop off the street corner back in Scottsdale.  About 90 miles behind you. You technically didn't need the money. You had your own little stash of savings despite Sam's insistence that you didn't need to worry about such things. That he'd provide for you. Yeah, right. Initially you had been tempted to flush it down the toilet. The less petty side of you had even contemplated simply leaving it on the table next to his side of the bed. But then you had a thought- why give up all of that free money? It is technically your ring. It was bought with you in mind, right? You could at least get something out of it. 

And so that afternoon, you had found yourself standing behind the glass case of a pawn shop. Scanning the numerous arrays of items from the safety of the display case. Everything from antique pistols to frosted bracelets, passing the time while the man on the other side of the counter examined the ring you had proudly worn only a few hours ago, squinting at it through a loupe magnifying glass, delicately turning it this way and that. 

"I'll give you five thousand for it," he suddenly speaks, pulling your attention away from a velvet tray showcasing old war medals. You can't even contain the scoff that leaves you, all decorum and self-restrain completely ran thin after the night before. "That's nearly a twenty-thousand-dollar ring." You counter, eyebrows pinching with poorly disguised frustration. 

He chuckles with a loose shrug that telegraphs his opinion better than his words ever could. Not my problem, it had said. His stained dentures peeking out from behind his lips when he goes to bite in a horridly dry looking donut, flakes of the glaze chipping and falling onto his button up. 

"That's my price. Take it or leave it." 

As previously stated, you didn't technically need the money. You had your cheque book, but not all places took cheques. You had your bank card, but a lot of places outside of big, wealthy cities still didn't have the machines to even use them. You needed the cash. And despite the fact that the man is woefully skimming you on the price, five thousand is still five thousand. 

So, with a great amount of swallowed pride and defeat you managed to grit out a stiff: "Fine. I'll take it." 

And now you're driving down a desolate road, seated inside a rented Ford Escort, with long stretches of the vast desert on either side of you. It's a boxy little car that Sam would have absolutely turned his nose up at. Good. Both of the front windows are completely down, letting the warm summer air tunnel inside the cabin of the car and tussle your hair around. The radio is on full blast, with a random rock music blaring out the vehicle's speakers without care. You tried to find a steady station earlier but had quickly given up whenever the music would dip down low and speckle out into static every time you drove through a patch of slopping hills. It was gorgeous, you have to admit. The way the landscape shifted from soft creams and rich rusted oranges and browns, with saguaro cactuses looming across the expanse of the dry desert floor like tall watching figures. 

But what struck you the most was sunsets. The ones you got back in New York were often dull. Muted by layers of pollution and the glow of the city lights, blocked by the sheer scale of the skyscrapers that blocked out the sun. It couldn't compare to the sheer vibrancy that painted the sky out here. 

With the sun dipping low, just barely peeking over the horizon, splashing shocking shades of pink and gold across the faint blue. It was also a painful reminder that this was all temporary. That eventually your little joy ride would have to come to an end. You would have to return to New York and face reality. Listen to the barrage of questions and accusations that would no doubt be thrown your way like stones and rotten tomatoes. You couldn't wait for the disapproving glare your mother would give you. The disbelief and disappointment. The excuses from Sam and the arrogant satisfaction that would waft from his parents. They never liked you anyway. Luckily, you still had your own apartment. Thank God that past you had the foresight to keep it and drag your feet on it giving up. That at least means that you won't have to stay with your parents or burden one of your friends by laying up in their place. You're not sure if you could stomach that honestly. 

Up ahead you notice a glint of a red light shining in the growing dark from a muted outline. It takes a few more minutes for the building to take shape, but you're quick to recognize it as a quaint little diner. The first thing you notice when you pull into the gravel parking lot is that the roof is in shambles, the old tiles cockeyed and skewed looking like they might take off in a good storm, and a red neon 'open' sign flickers unsteadily from behind a window - the only thing that would let you know that the building isn't abandoned, if not for the couple of cars scattered about out front. And there's a random statue of a horse standing next the dusty glass entrance. It looks like someone tried to paint it brown some time ago, but the paint has begun to chip from years of enduring open weather, exposing the grey base underneath. 

It's . . . cute . . . in a rustic sort of way. But you could hardly care about the aesthetic. Your legs could use a stretch and you honestly haven't eaten much today apart from a hastily grabbed bag of potato chips the last time you were at a gas station. And you should have a decent amount of distance put between you and your fiancé - ex fiancé. 

The bell above the door chimes when you enter, announcing your arrival. But the first thing you notice is how empty it is. Not that you were expecting it to be packed full and brimming. The lighting is a tired gray tone, which does nothing to combat the cool tones of the white walls and you can hear the light fixtures buzzing with electricity, almost competing with a low energy country song playing in the background. You don't notice any staff, but you do spot an older couple - the only customers apart from yourself - sitting at the first booth to your right, the pair leaning conspiratorially over a collection of post cards spread over the tabletop. Old love birds probably here to see the Grand Canyon and Tombstone. You wonder how long they've been together. How they've managed to find love in someone over all the years.  "What do you think about this one, Curtis?" She's asking, tapping a glazed card with a manicured nail. "Do you think he'll like this one?" 

You turn away from the private exchange to perch yourself at the L shaped counter, sitting on the tearing and stiff vinyl of the stool cushion and notice a sheet of pale paper sticking out against the faint yellow of the counter. The bold letters atop proudly declare that it's the menu that you notice as the standard font from a computer and the page is laminated with thick strips of packing tape. The low effort does have you wondering if you might be risking the chance of food poisoning, but with the combination of a shitty few days and a rumbling stomach, you can hardly find the energy to care. 

Suddenly there's an exchange of yelling coming out from past the serving window that peers into the kitchen, making you pause in your examination of the menu. You can hardly make out the words thrown back and forth, but the tones are heated. It sounds like a man and a woman, and the latter is confirmed when a frazzled woman comes barreling out of the kitchen, leaving the swinging door to slam up against the bar, rattling the glass cake displays and napkin dispensers. And based on the name tag - Rachel it read - she seems to be the waitress. The man's voice must belong to the cook . . . or maybe the owner then. She looks mortified when she sees you, face flushing pink and you do your best to reassure her with a soft smile. 

" I'm so sorry you had to hear that, " she tries to laugh but it's strained and short and not at all convincing. 

"It's alright, " you replied with a light shrug. "I could hardly make out what was said. And I think the pair behind me are too engrossed in their post cards to notice." 

That seems to settle her a bit, shoulders relaxing. Her eyes notice the menu in your hands, and she nods her chin. " You see anything on there you'd like?" 

You glance back down on the back, going back down the quaint list available with a hum. "Just a cheeseburger with cheddar and a side of fries is fine. And a coke. "

She's quick to give you your drink before she leaves with your order, slipping back into the kitchen to deliver it personally. And you can't help but feel bad for sending her back into the hypothetical lion's den. You take a moment to breath and really focus on events of today. How you wound up in a dusty diner in the middle of nowhere after spending the first few days of your vacation alongside the country clubs pool in a sleek hot pink two-piece bikini, drinking mixed drinks and enjoying the sun while Sam spent his time playing golf with his father and new colleagues. 

And that's how you found him. After days of trying to get him to go out, to go on a date like a normal couple, and him deflecting, saying that he was busy with his father's business friends, you found him balls deep in the young housekeeper that you had seen pushing a maid cart down one of the halls a few days before. She was moaning in that exaggerated way that porn stars do. 

For a moment you all you did was stand there. You didn't know how to react, water soaking the carpet from your damp feet, still wet from your recent swim in the pool. And there was a nasty voice in your head telling you that it was your fault. That it was all of your paranoia and insecurities that had drew him away from you. That it had probably made you distant and cold and you were too caught up in your own fears to see the strain you had put on him and your relationship. 

But it wasn't your fault. You weren't crazy. You were right the entire time. All of those little glances that his assistant used to send him, the looks that would linger a bit too long. Like the time that you had showed up to his office to surprise him. You had known how stressed he was at his job, the workload pilling up with no end in sight and so you figured you'd pop in and see him. It was after hours but the guard knew you and let you in regardless. And when you were rounding around the corner of cubicles the door of his office had swung open and she had walked out, tugging at the edge of her skirt to smooth it out. And when she had saw you, her body visibly stiffening while she blurted out a quick hello, quickly followed by a hasty excuse for her rushed leaving. Something about being late for something. 

When you had entered Sam's office, he looked put together enough, except the first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie was on his desk. It was the first red flag that you had avoided, slipping on your rose-tinted glasses. And the worried phone calls to your mother did nothing but convince you that you were trying to make something out of nothing. "You're just nervous about the wedding, " she had said, " Sam is the best thing that's happened to you. Don't go and ruin this opportunity over some cold feet." 

And then there you were last night. Him and the maid. She had screamed when she noticed you standing there, nearly kicking him with her foot and sending him off the bed. She was up faster than you could blink, snatching up her clothes and taking a linen sheet with her as makeshift cover, rambling apologies under her breath, saying that she didn't know as she slipped out of the room leaving you to numbly stand and stare at your naked fiancé. 

He had tried everything to get you to stay. A pathetic amount of 'I'm sorry's" streaming out of him. Claiming that it wasn't you it was him, it was stress from work, that he didn't mean to, that he'd never do it again. You had spent the night in a separate room, and you were gone in the morning without as so much as a note. 

The bell above the door chimes, too cheerful for its gritty environment, and you boredly look over your shoulder to see what other wayward soul has stumbled in. It's definitely an interesting band of characters to say the least, a family you'd assume. With a platinum haired woman ushering a young boy in by the shoulders who looks less than enthused about being guided to a booth on the left side of the diner, openly grumbling under his breath. They're closely followed by a lithe, stoic looking man who looked about as friendly as the mean dog that your old neighbors had chained out in front of their house. The one who would lunge at the fence and snarl whenever you'd walk past to get to the bus stop. The glare he had cast across the room felt like the blade of a cold knife running across your skin. And there was a young couple behind him, the young man's arm curled around the girl's shoulders while she tried to lean into him as they walked, whispering secretly to each other like they were the only people in left in the world. 

Young love. They'd be at each other's throats soon enough. Or maybe you're just bitter. 

And despite the clear dynamic between the group, the sense of family that comes from them you can't help but feel like you're looking at something odd. There's a faint chill that runs down your spine like some quiet subconscious part of you is trying to get you attention. You feel a bit of guilt gnaw at you. You had no right thinking about a random group of strangers like that. 

And you nearly look away but then a hand is catching ahold of the door before it can swing closed and someone else is stepping inside with the sound of jingling accompanying each step. It takes you a second to notice the spurs strapped to the heels of his scuffed cowboy boots. Your eyes continue to trail upwards, past the glinting silver of his belt buckles - two belts? - and up the expanse of his torso, taking in the black leather jacket, decorated with badges and medals and other little embellishments like the tiny metal longhorn heads that decorate the edges of the coats collar. There's a beaded necklace around his throat in a pattern of yellow, red, yellow, and black. And it reminds you of that little rhyme you heard a long time ago about how to tell if a snake is venomous or not. 

Red and black, safe for Jack. Red touching yellow, kill a fellow. 

You can't help but wonder if it applies to him as well. Then you get up to his face where an all too wide grin sits. Like a jack o' lantern, you muse. But despite the unsettling quality to his smile, you can't deny that he's an attractive man in a rough and wild sort of way. He looked like someone you'd see mentioned in a Rolling Stone publication or in a messy pop culture magazine discussing rockstars. 

" Looks like we struck gold again!" He hoots sarcastically, either completely unaware of the volume of his voice or simply not caring and you take note of the southern drawl that honeys his words. His eyes scan over the room, trailing over the older couple in the corner who have since looked up from their cards to squint at the man causing all the noise. He winks at them in a cheeky sort of way, completely shameless. "It's gonna be slim pickins' tonight!" 

Before you have time to evaluate that little remark, the waitress is pushing the kitchen door open, carrying a plate holding a burger and fries in one hand. It's either the sudden sound or the weight of your stare that has the stranger looking over in your direction and the hold of his eyes on you seems to siphon the air from your lungs. Blue, the thought rings across your mind, they're a stormy sort of blue. 

You turn away from him, like a scolded child who got caught doing something that they shouldn't have and focus down on your plate, the hollow pit of your stomach reminding you why you're even here. To eat, not to ogle at strange men. No matter how handsome they may be.  

"Well, they sure are a colorful little group, aren't they," Rachel whispered in an amused sort of way, watching as the family piles into the booth. With the mother, her son and the father filling up one side and the couple on the other. The cowboy straggles behind, instead opting to stay outside the table, leaning over it and propping himself up on both hands while the group discusses something amongst themselves. But you see a bit of unease flit across her face, and it gives you some pause. Surely, they couldn't be that much different from the other types of people that frequent this place. It makes you wonder if she felt what you had. The feeling that came with crossing paths with something dangerous. Like walking into the grocery store and seeing a bear ransacking the shelves. 

"I'm sure they aren't as bad as they look, " you encourage before biting into a fry. And she nods along like she's trying to amp herself up. " A customer's a customer. " She replies in a worn but robotic drone, like the words have been drilled into her head. Probably by management. And then she's dipping out from behind the counter leaving you to enjoy your meal by yourself. You nearly moan at the first bite of your burger. It's nothing show stopping. But it's good. Good enough to quell the empty rumbling in your gut with a couple of bites. 

"What's a sweet thing like you doin' in a shithole like this?" That sugary voice breaks out across the quiet. And it takes a moment for you to realize that the question is even addressed to you. And you're twisting around on the stool with a mouthful of food bulging from your cheeks while your mothers voice scolds you from the recesses of you mind for having such bad manners. You come face to with a chest covered in a worn white wife beater that's definitely seen better days and you're swallowing the bite of food as your gaze continues upwards until it locks with a set of piercing baby blues.  

The rockstar.

"I was hungry," you respond bluntly. Cut and dry. You figured that would have been enough to give him the hint that you weren't in the mood for idle chit chat or mindless flirting, but he doesn't remove himself from the way that he leans against the countertop, suspending his weight on a single elbow and cocking a hip. "Well, shit darlin' I've ate better slop from the inside of a jail cell," he chuckles at his own joke, and you honestly can't tell if the comment was a joke or not. Firstly, the food isn't even that bad. A bit greasy but not bad. Worse case you'd probably get a stomachache, which is pretty small in terms of how awful your past few days have been. 

"I'm sorry, are you trying to flirt with me?" you ask, huffing incredulously. "Because, if you are, most guys like to leave out the fact that they've been arrested. " 

He doesn't take offence to it like you'd expect, but instead little hiccups of laughter bubble up from his chest like it's the funniest thing he's heard in a while. " Oh, those? Just a coupla thievin' charges." He admitted airily, like he was talking about something casual. Like work or he was commenting on the weather. "Plus, that was years ago. " And he's waving a hand in the air, gesturing like it isn't important, and all you can do is watch him, smiling from disbelief - not amusement - while you rove over his features like they might be the answer to the oddness of the entire situation. 

"What is your plan exactly? " You ask, sipping from the straw of your coke without looking away from him. "I mean, you're here with who I assume is your family. Probably on vacation. So, what was the goal? That you were going to sweep me off my feet and we'd grind one out in the bathroom?" You shake your head. At one time you would have had more tact. You would have chosen your words carefully and danced around the topic. But not tonight. You look away to read the clock that hangs above the serving window, silently reading the minute and hour hand. 8:13 it told you. You should probably get a move on in a bit and find lodgings for the night. Hopefully the next town over won't be too far over, but everything is so spread out on the west coast, less compact and huddled than the east." Classy." You remark without any sense to cover your scorn. 

"Shit, girl what kinda John's are you used to? I was just tryin' to make a bit o' conversation," he laughs, combing a hand through his hair as he turns just a notch to look over at his family and Rachel is standing in front of their table, no doubt trying to get their order, but she looks tense and rattled. But then again. you've practically known her for five minutes and that seems to be her default state. "I ain't that bad, am I?" 

The group doesn't answer verbally instead chortling at the question like a pack of coyotes yipping at the joy of a successful hunt and it gives you the feeling that he might be worse. 

"You're about as welcomin' as shit on someone's doorstep, " the kid sneers, and you can't help but gawk at the language that comes out of his mouth and how openly he insults an adult and assumed relative. But what is even more surprising is the way that his mother doesn't make a move to scold him. Instead, it's the cowboy that speaks out, leaning forward like he might leap across the distance that separates them and throttle the kid, hissing out a strained " shut up, Homer before I tan yer hide," between his teeth and then he's turning his attention back to you, the irritated scowl that he wore was now gone in a flash, like a switch had been flipped he was smiling like the exchange hadn't happened. "Aw, shit darlin' - I've seemed to've left my manners at the door. The name's Severen," and he's extending his hand for you take. "Do I get a name to go with a pretty face?" 

You let go of the hold you have around your plastic soda glass to accept his hand, exchanging a firm shake. You really don't know why you're even entertaining this random stranger. Severen. An odd name if you've ever heard one. It defiantly fits the leather cowboy rockstar aesthetic he has going on. Sure, he seems a little shady, but he has a sort of magnetic charm that keeps you from tossing a few bills on the counter and leaving the diner all together. It also helps that he seems to be a complete one-eighty of Sam, who was all forced politeness and feigned confidence. His words always seemed a bit too rehearsed, like he was a part of a scripted play and was forced to do improve on the spot. He was always trying to sell something, even outside of the office. Whatever dominate personality was in the room he'd mold himself to imitate it like a chameleon. An old business trick he had told you. And maybe it was. It had certainly worked on you. The empty promises, the constant stream of expensive gifts, the vacations to private islands and resorts. They were all just pretty distractions to keep you blind to his awful personality. 

But this random stranger carries himself like time operates on his whim. Like he could tell the world to stop, and it'd quit breathing entirely until he gave it the okay. He was the kind of man that your mother warned you not to go near. The type you'd see hanging outside of seedy bars on the nights that you and your friends would sneak out of your homes to go wander around town, sipping from gas station slushies and gossiping near the old train tracks. And your mother was right to warn you all those years ago. Guys like him can be dangerous. Maybe it's all your bent out emotions getting the better of you, but you kind of like it. 

And truthfully, it feels a little validating to have a guy - especially one as attractive as he is to approach you and strike up a conversation. After Sam's betrayal and the menagerie of twisted and self-depreciating emotions that came with it, it feels good to know that you're still wanted. Even if the attention is coming from a random man in a lonely roadside diner that ultimately won't go anywhere. You've never been the type to entertain men. Granted it's mostly due to the fact that you and Sam had officially put a label on your relationship when you were twenty-one, so your experience with flirting and one-night stands are quite limited. But this wasn't something that was going to go anywhere. It was simply something to pass the time before you set off and head back out on the road. Two strangers sharing a conversating before going on with their lives. It was harmless. So, you tell him your name and he parrots it back like he's trying to memorize it and it shocks you how much you like the sound of it dressed under his voice, sweetened under his southern drawl. It's Texan you think. 

"A pretty name for a pretty lady." 

"You lay it on thick, don't you?" 

"Well, I've never been one to skim it when it comes to the truth. " He flashes that charming grin again, and you glance down at the fries and shuffle them around the plate to distract yourself from it. You hate the heated flutter that fills your stomach at the sight of it. "So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" You shoot back at him, not word for word but you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes that it amuses him, nonetheless. 

"About what you said, family vacation. Sightseeing and all that. " You nod along with him, thumbing at the straw of your drink while you meet the dark blue of his eyes. The conversation fizzles out. But not in an awkward or uncomfortable manner. It feels completely natural; the silence that falls over you both. And you just barely register the outside noise. The soft, idle chatter of the elderly couple, the hum of the old lights, the dull drone an energetic rock song, but then a sharp abrupt sound is breaking the spell that fell over you. The sound of someone clearing their throat. Not in the way you might do to dislodge something from your throat but in a way that demands attention and both you and Severen are looking back over to the booth where his family sits. It's the older man who fixes Severen with a stare. Firm and a little chastising. There's another quality to it that you can't make out and it has a cold shiver trickling down your spine. Severen doesn't verbally respond, but the exasperated look he gives the man seems to carry words of its own, the two of them seemingly having an entire conversation with only two heavy stares. It makes you feel awfully singled out. The shift from the flirty banter and light energy to a looming, heavy air happens so quickly that your brain is still struggling to comprehend it. It's like you've been foolishly stumbling about and have suddenly walked into a room that you shouldn't have, and then there's a cold nagging feeling that you need to get up from the stool and leave the building. But you don't. 

"We gotta get a move on now, Severen." His voice is resolute and fixed, holding no room for argument and despite the fact that his attention hasn't shifted from the man standing next to you, you feel just as affected by the piercing tone. You just so happen to glance down on the table, noticing the lack of drinks or appetizers on the counter and for some reason it flares up a little red flag in your brain. 

Severen sighs in an exaggerated way, like a kid who's been told they couldn't have something and then his attention returns to you, but it feels too stifling. The playful warmth that was once lighting up the blue is now gone. His eyes are sharp and burning with laser focus and you feel like a rabbit caught between a lethal maw. "Sorry to cut our time short darlin,' " he purrs out from an almost manic grin. " You've been a real treat." 

It's all a blur then, cuts of color and streaks of light, and you think that you can hear someone screaming, shrill and pained, but that can't be right, right? There's a white expanse above you, stained with water marks and muted from years of being exposed to cigarette smoke. It's all sluggish, like trying to focus when you're several drinks deep and seeing double, but there's a searing, overwhelming sting slicing throughout the column of your neck, and it grounds you somewhat. Enough to blink back the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Enough for you to realize that you're staring at the ceiling and that there's a rough, white knuckled grip threaded through your hair keeping your head tilted at an excruciating degree. And then you can feel a body pressed against yours, an arm cinched across your waist to hold you close. 

You can feel a damp heat pouring down your throat and underneath your shirt. Every bit helps you focus. But it's the throbbing ache that takes ahold of your mind and jostles the fog free, lifting the curtain to expose you to all the pain. The sting, the white-hot scorching burn of teeth embedded in the flesh of your neck. There's a tongue laving at the skin held between his jaw, working blood into his mouth. Blood. Your blood. He's biting you. He's fucking biting you! 

A freezing cold grips your heart. A terrified fluttering thing that seizes your limbs and keeps you frozen in place while your brain short-circuits between the conflicting commands of either fighting or remaining still in fear. In the midst of your panic some tiny shred of self-preservation takes ahold of you, and you reach into your front jean pocket with a shaking hand while the man continues to gulp at the red that flows from you, moaning around your neck. Your fingers quiver unsteadily, from the fear, the overflow of adrenaline, the blood loss that starts to mist the corners of your vision. But you continue your blind search until your fingertips curl around the set of keys in your pocket. Ignoring the other horrified cries that echo around the diner, the sharp clatter of glass breaking on the tiles, the squeal of someone's shoes slipping across the floor in a wild struggle you secure your grip on the keys and pull them from your pocket as quickly as possible without having them slip from your unsteady hold. 

Your sight blurs just a bit. From the tears or the blood loss you aren't sure and the rock song, despite the low volume being projected over the speakers is suddenly too load, drumming in your ears along with the erratic pulse of your heart and the gulping of the man latched to your neck. And your sluggish brain is suddenly grappling with the fact that you might die here. 

It's enough to still your shaky resolve, thumbing the key to direct the point of it forward like knife. It's small, the edge quite dull. You'd have to drive it in deep for it to do any damage. It won't kill him, but hopefully it will be enough to get him to let you go. 

You draw in a frail gasp, pulling a weak draw of air into your lungs to try and give yourself more focus around the panic that's currently fraying your nerves. Securing your grip around your sweaty palm you don't give yourself time to think, to second guess yourself that it may not work. You're drawing your arm back and striking forward, hoping that you manage to hit something of importance in your visionless jab. You're right in your aim, and the tiny strip of steel is burrowing deep into his side, wiggling your wrist to work it in deeper. 

There's a brief feeling of elation, of righteous satisfaction that courses through you when he jerks away from the crook of your neck with a startled yelp that tells you he's more surprised than injured. He practically pushes you away from himself, spitting out insults and curses. The shove sends you falling, your body too weak in your current state to keep you upright, lethargic and drained, and you land on your knees and the heels of your palms. The deep ache you feel from the impact is quickly shoved to the side, while you clumsily scramble back upright, shoes slipping in a puddle of a deep scarlet that you distantly register as blood.

You try not to look, to take in the carnage that taints the room. You try not to notice the young couple who now sit at the bar, sitting side by side while they both drink from Rachel's body like they're sharing a milkshake with their faces smeared red. You try not to see the elderly woman slumped at her booth with her neck sliced open cleanly; blood splattered across the little postcards that she had just been excitedly prattling about sending off to family or friends. And there's a blood trail dragging across the tiles and at the end of it is her husband. And the kid - Jesus even the kid is in on it, curled over her dead husband's body, latched onto his throat. 

The sound of Severen's angry cursing has all of their attention snapping over to you, and you feel like a wounded rabbit surrounded by a pack of rabid coyotes. 

Everything falls to a standstill like you're all collectively holding your breath, waiting to see who will make the next move. And it's you who does, bolting towards the exit, and you can hear them all collectively move after you, but you don't look back, not even when you hear someone shout out: "God dammit! Someone grab er!" 

You're barreling out past the door, and Severen's swearing has melted into a deranged string of laughter, and it follows you on your way out like a taunt, still ringing in your ears while you're crossing the stretch of the parking lot, running faster than you've ever ran in your life. Like you've got the hounds of hell at your heels. Your shoes slip in the gravel, still slick from the blood that had coated the tiled floor and it feels like you're running in a dream, no matter how much distance you cross you're still in place, every foot between you and your car expanding out into a mile, and you think that you might not make it. You feel the tips of someone's fingers brush against the nape of your neck, but you don't even know if it's real or if your brain is just playing tricks on you. You almost miss the handle of the vehicle when you skid to a halt, key already at the ready to slip into the lock, but it's slick with blood and your grip is lose, and you're praying to someone out there, some higher power, or even the universe to not let it slip.

And you can hear the sound of rushed footsteps running up on you and it has another pump of adrenalin shooting into your already overloaded body, and it feels like its frying you alive. And one of them is shouting, a light feminine voice chanting "get her! You have to get her!" with a great deal of panic. You don't let yourself look back up to the diner, no matter how much you want gage the distance between you and them. You can't stomach the thought of glancing up and seeing one of them standing directly in front of you, dripping with blood and gore and so you force yourself to focus on working the key into the slot and twisting the lock open, and you nearly sob with relief when you swing the door open and slip inside the car. 

You're peeling out of the parking lot before you can even fully register it, fumbling to slam the driver side door closed, tires spinning in the dirt and gravel while you wildly careen out of the lot and onto the road in an unsteady swerve. And there's an unsettled laughter bubbling from your chest, rupturing from it like a geyser in an uncontrollable fit even though all you really want to do is scream and cry instead, and the music blaring from the radio does little to dampen your current hysteria, but you can't be bothered to reach for the dial and turn it down. Trying your best to breathe so that you can place your attention on maintaining your grip on the steering wheel and getting the hell away from here as quickly as possible. You glance back in the rear-view mirror despite every cell in your body telling not to. You don't want to see them. But you do. Standing out in front of the diner as still as ghosts, faded into dimensionless dark figures from the red neon of the building projecting from behind them in a hellish glow, growing smaller and smaller until they fade into nothing, and the lights are but a tiny pinprick in the distance. 

It takes you a moment to register that you're heading back in the direction of Scottsdale, which is now an uncomfortable distance away and now you're cursing the broad expanse of the desert. How everything out here stretches out for lonely, horrid distances. Mile's gapping between towns and houses. But you should have more than enough fuel to get to the gas station that you had stopped at about an hour or so into your journey. You should be okay. You just have to make it there and hopefully they'll have a landline phone that works, and you can call the cops. But what if they don't? A despairing voice laments somewhere in your mind, what if they aren't even open? You have to force the thought away to keep yourself from spiraling. You glance back into the rear-view mirror expecting to see headlights of a car speeding towards you, but it's nothing but a vast empty darkness. They aren't coming after you. 

But their lack of chase does little to quell the fear and cold dread nestling inside your body, if anything it fuels the panic. It's suspicious, the way they just gave up once you got to your car. Surely, they had done this before, if the way that they had all walked in the diner with ease and promptly dispatched of all the patrons and employees with a horrifying air of calm was any indication. They did it like it was routine. Like it was normal. And perhaps it was. Maybe this was a normal thing for them, slaughtering the poor souls who cross their paths in obscene acts of violence. But this wasn't even the typical serial killer stuff you often hear about. Kidnappings and stabbings. They were drinking their blood. He was drinking your blood. It reminds you of all the times that your mother used to go off on worried tangents about all the supposed satanic cults that are apparently spreading throughout the country, poisoning the children through rock music and D & D of all things.  "I heard it on the news," she had said with a vehemence that you didn't have the energy to challenge anymore. You had never put much stock into it all. The obvious fear mongering that daily new papers and overzealous preachers on the FM radio pumped out in a constant drivel. It had always sounded like bullshit to you, but now that you're speeding down the highway with a massive gash in the side of your neck, shaped by a set of teeth, you're starting to think that maybe there is a shred of possibility to it. You can't help but brokenly giggle at the prospect of it, the insanity of it all. Attacked by a psychotic blood cult. You sound crazy. This entire situation is crazy. 

You reach up to touch the wound on the side of your neck, initially flinching at the tender sting. You should probably try to find something to clean it up with, one of your old bottles of water is probably lying around on the floor, tucked underneath some seat, but you can't stomach the thought of pulling over and parking the car long enough to find it. You don't have anything to dress the wound with but luckily it seems as though the bleeding has stopped despite the skin around it still being damp with recent blood. You pinpoint the inflamed edges of the bite with your fingertips, lightly brushing down the expanse of it so not to irritate it any further. It starts just a few inches beneath your ear and stops just short of meeting your shoulder. That's odd. It feels a whole lot thinner than you would expect and less gnarled. Especially considering that it was a grown man that took a bite out of you. It has you flipping the sun visor down and angling it down to properly investigate the damage in between careful glances at the road. 

It's difficult to make out from underneath the grimy red coating your neck, but you can see the torn strips of flesh glinting underneath the dim glow casted by the rectangular lights bordering each side of the visor mirror. Two narrow gashes that are nowhere near the size you had expected. The wound is strangely small, the angry indents left by his teeth are thin like they're a few days into the healing process and not just a few minutes old. It must have been the adrenaline making it seem worse than it was. But then again, this entire night feels like it isn't real. Like it's a dream -a nightmare that you'd wake up from at any moment. 

Images of the diner flash across your mind, the gore and violence. Rachel's lifeless eyes staring at you, jarringly blank and empty like a broken doll while the young couple fed from her wrist and neck. The red smearing the pale floor, the screaming and banging of pots and pans from the kitchen that had told you that one of them had gotten ahold of the cook somewhere in the back. And it sounded like he was trying to fight them off. And you had left him. You had left him behind without a second thought. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You had been so desperate to get out and save your own skin that you didn't even think about anyone else or the chance that they might be alive before you ran out.  But what were you supposed to? If you had stayed behind even a second longer, he would have killed you. You would have been dead-

A short metallic scrape sounds from the roof of your car. Sudden and jarring and abrupt enough for you to jump in your seat and nearly jerk the steering wheel from your shaky grip. A rattled breath leaves you while you glance up at the cloth ceiling like it'll help identify the cause of the sound, and you all you can do is hope that it's something like the wind even though the idea of it sounds completely stupid. But you can't let yourself think of the other possibilities right now. Not when you're still two seconds away from a panic attack while behind the wheel and doing 85 mph down the road. You should probably slow down some now that you've placed some distance between you and them, but you can't seem to move your foot from the gas pedal no matter how much common sense is telling you to. 

And then you hear it again. That harsh cutting noise is slashing through the air over the droning of the engine and Joan Jett's blaring vocals. Definitely not the wind. And there's a dull shuffling that follows after it, heavy and scuffed, almost like -

A large bang erupts from above like a gun shot and a panicked fleeting looks up reveals that there's a dent in the roof, dipping inwards like someone had punched it, and it douses you like cold water and floods your system with another hefty load of adrenaline. The realization that someone is on top of the car. But before you can do anything, the roof above you is bursting open with a shrill grotesque shriek, splitting as easily as tinfoil and a hand is blindly reaching down, frantically snatching at the open air with bloodied fingers. You can't help the scream that escapes your lungs, tearing your already raw throat from its volume. And your already sluggish brain stalls between the directions of either slamming on the breaks or swerving across the road in the hopes of shaking them off that you don't do anything other than try to remain in control of the vehicle and evade the hand trying to claw its way into your hair, its rings snagging on the strands. Rings. You remember the jewelry that Severen had worn on his right hand, how he had tapped his knuckles on the counter when you were talking.  He's the one on your car. That's why they didn't all bother chasing after you, because they already had you. He must have leapt on when you were speeding out of the parking lot, too rattled and busy panicking to notice him climbing up the roof. 

While you're busy grappling with the situation his hand successfully snatches at your roots, pulling painfully tight at your scalp. You cry out in pain, trying to keep your eyes on the long stretch of road and keep control of the wheel while you reach up to claw at his wrist with your own nails, but it does nothing to deter him. If anything, he grips your hair harder, and you know that you're going to have to stop. Maybe if you break hard enough, you'll be able to shake him free and you can run him over on while you're on your way out of this shithole. So, you remove your foot from the gas pedal in the hopes of slamming on the brakes, but then he's securing his hold on your scalp and harshly jerking your head back against the head rest. Even though it's a dull pain, it's enough to disorient you and then the tires are squealing with the acrid scent of burnt rubber tainting the air. 

From the angle he has your head held at you can't see out of the windshield, but you can catch glimpses of the world rushing past you out of your peripherals. Blurs of the desert floor and dried shrubbery rushing past, and the car is harshly jolting over what must be rocks and dips in the ground. 

Admits the chaos you're able to free yourself from his grip just in time to see the barbed wire fence that you're approaching at full speed. But it's far too late to anything, not even the brakes would help to lessen the blow and all you can do is watch as the front of the car hits a heavy wooden fence post, crumpling inwards from the impact. Then it all flashes black under a blaze of searing white hot heat, a steady throb traveling across your skull in steady pulses. You can't help but groan from the pain. You have to force your eyes open and blink away the blurriness that obscures the edges of your vision. You don't know if it's been seconds or hours after the crash, but a quick scan of the pitch-black night around you and the thick stream of smoke that pours from the grill and twists up into the air lets you know that it couldn't have been too long. 

Then you hear the shifting of feet above you, shuffling against the roof and every step is like a gunshot going off. Another nail in your coffin. It fills you with pure dread, but you're too weak- your brain too muddled to move. You watch as a pair of cowboy boots drop onto what's left of the hood, jostling the body of the car from the weight of it, the spurs jingling in a way that sounds light and cheery, like a set of mocking giggles. 

He's dipping over at the waist so that he can look at you, eyes twinkling with crazed mirth and wearing a bloody grin that's too wide. And then he fucking waves at you. You're still too dazed to get out and run, or cuss him out, or do anything, so you settle for pinning him down with a steady glare, hoping that it conveys all of your boiling hatred while you try and shove down the fear running rampant inside your chest. 

Then he's excitedly leaping from the hood and landing on the ground hollering into the air like he just got off a rollercoaster. It's horrifying, the blatant joy that he's exhibiting like the killing and the chase were the ultimate pleasure of life. And while he's celebrating, you're doing your best not vomit. From the head trauma or the sudden empty gnawing in the pit of your stomach you aren't sure. But nausea is swimming in your head and gut and you're blindly fumbling for the door latch. You need to get out, you need to vomit, you need to run. And all the while he's dancing in place, clearly riding some sort of adrenaline rush. "God damn, yer a wild cat!" He's hollering, practically skipping over to the driver side door. You whimper under your breath from the pain and the fear and pathetically try to crawl over the center console to get to the opposing seat, but you can hear the door being jerked open while he chuckles and snatches your ankle. 

"Get off of me!" You shout, kicking out in the hopes that it would deter him some. Of course, it doesn't. If anything, it seems to amuse him further, even when one of them lands and you strike him dead center in the chest. It doesn't get so much as a gasp of air from him, like there isn't any in his lungs. He still has that unsettling feral grin on his face.  "No can do, sugar. Shoulda thought about that before you went an' stabbed me." 

The wild fear is overshadowed for a moment, as short as it is. "You fucking bit me!" You snap back, like a child bickering but you're still to dazed and caught up in the moment to even register how fruitless and bizarre the exchange is.  

"But you smelt so good, " he croons in a sing-songy lilt, still pulling your wiggling body towards his, now gripping ahold of your hips. "You can't blame a man for wantin' a taste." And he's pulling you up by the shoulders completely unbothered by the way you try to claw and rip at his chest and the exposed skin of his throat. His eyes are lit up under the dull cast of the interior light, barring you completely to the wild nature that lurks inside them. 

His teeth are fully exposed behind that horrible grin, and it feels like he's going to try and eat you alive. And you think he is. Of course, he is. Here to finish the job and drain you dry. They were always going to get you. Your car- your only chance of escape is totaled. And even if you somehow managed to overpower him and kill him the group he had traveled with is still out there. No doubt counting the seconds for his return. And the second they realize he's not coming back they'll be coming for you. In this dead empty desert with no houses or towns for miles. You'd collapse from exhaustion before you manage to find help, or some random person finds you alongside the road. 

A sense of helplessness rushes over you. A reluctant defeat. And you look up at him like hundreds of others have probably done before you and ask the question that that you've always made fun of the heroines and victims of countless movies for asking: "Why are you doing this?" 

But you need some sense of closure at least. A reason for all of the violence and horror that you've endured tonight. You try and focus through your blurred vision to search both of his eyes like you might find something of substance in them. Two deep pools of a smothering blue. There isn't a shred of sympathy in them.  He's shushing you in a dramatic mocking sense of kindness, cradling your jaw in his hands like he cares. You try to remove your face from his hold, but he doesn't let you, following your retreating face and caging it between his calloused grip. "There ain't nothin' you coulda done. You were jus' at the wrong place at the wrong time." It's said so matter-of-factly it shreds the final bits of hope that you clung to. 

And then he's leaning closer, dropping an arm to nuzzle at the wound on your neck, ignoring how you hiss and jerk away from him, desperate to evade the sting of his teeth, but it never comes. You feel him go still underneath you, muscles seizing like he's been struck, and it also gives you pause letting you focus through your aching muddled head and pick up on the little puffs of breath bursting across your throat. Is he . . . sniffing you?

Your head is suddenly back in his hands and he's peering down at you, squinting in the dim light like he's searching for something and all you can do is force your drooping eyelids open to warily watch him, trying to ignore the persistent vacant throb in your gut. A series of emotions cross his face, bewilderment, anger, and lastly a frustrated sort of acceptance. "You gotta be shittin' me."  Then he's tearing away from you, leaving your body to weakly sag back up against the driver's seat while he stomps at the ground and swears. You think about trying to make a run for it while he's distracted and busy throwing a fit over . . . something, but when your place your feet on the ground and try to stand you're startled by how horribly they shake. A tremor runs up your body and has you falling right back down on your seat. The blood loss and your crashing adrenaline rush seems to be catching up to you, leaving your body nothing more than a useless painful quivering mess and you could cry but you'll be damned if you give this bastard the twisted satisfaction of seeing your tears. 

The sound of you trying to stand seems to remind him of your presence and he's twisting around to look at you. And the two of you pause in a strange sort of standoff. He briefly gazes back off into the night like he might find an answer somewhere out among the darkness and rolling hills before looking back to you with a dejected sigh. Then he's walking back towards you, lifting his wrist up to his mouth and biting into it without flinching. 

The sight of that alone has you trying to scramble back again, but he's on you before you can blink. "Oh, quit yer fussin'. " He chides while holding you close against his chest. 

"Wha-" you can't even get the question out before he's sliding a bloody wrist against your open mouth. You flinch away from it, smearing it across your cheek and he tuts disapprovingly like he isn't trying to force feed you his blood. "C'mon now, don' be difficult." 

You had fully intended to scold him, whip out some barbed quip to get some sense of having the upper hand, no matter how miniscule it was in the long run, but then a bit of his blood drops along your tongue, and your brain is wiped clean of any coherent thought. You don't know what compelled you to do it, honest to God.  But suddenly you're latching onto his arm like it's a lifeline and gulping down the thick red that pours from the open wound. A thick metallic gush coats your tongue and it's almost too much but he's cradling the back of your head to keep you fixed to his arm. Then notes of something salted and faintly sweet rises up from the coppery flavor and you're pulling it into your mouth like its melted sugar. And you think you can hear him murmur something to you, something like, "see it ain't so bad, is it?" but his voice is distant and far away like he's talking to you from under water. 

That strange hollow pinch inside of your gut is back. It's like hunger almost, but it's also leagues away from any hunger you've ever felt. It feels like a sharp rabid thing is lose in your stomach, all teeth and claws, scratching at you from the inside, begging for you to give it more. And the flow of blood the pours freely from his wrist suddenly isn't enough. And you're pulling away from him with as much strength as you can muster, successfully standing on your feet and snatching at the clothes on his chest for a completely different reason now. You catch the surprise in his eyes, the little puff of disbelieving laughter that leaves him when he lets you roughly nudge his head to the side and place you mouth on his throat, running the sensitive tip of your tongue along the rough texture of his five-o clock shadow. Just keeping the edges of your teeth there. But you can smell the blood underneath his skin and the wild, gnawing hunger inside of you demands to be fed and then you're sinking them in deep. His skin breaks underneath the pressure and the thick red fills your mouth like nectar. The flow of it is much stronger here, gushing across your tongue beautifully. You almost moan from the elation you feel, the stabbing pain muting out in pale distant throbs and the shaking in your arms and legs dies down. 

He groans and grips your hips tightly and whether it's from discomfort or not you don't know. And you don't care. You can hardly think at all, left adrift under the pull the blood that steadily pours down your throat, and if it weren't for the sudden burst of sound to tether you, you might would have floated away under it.  Somewhere in the distance a pack coyotes howls and yips rise up like a delighted strip of laughter, the wind rustles over the desert floor like a wane breath, and far past the horizon something warm and primordial rumbles, but it's still hard to focus on over the sound of your own feverish gulping. Even though the foreign, wild hunger has since died down, you don't want to stop. You want to stay here forever and drink and drink and drink. 

You're being pulled back from his neck before you can register it, pitifully whining at the loss of his blood. It takes you a few moments to come to, the annoying steady tapping of his hand on your cheek helping to rouse you from your drunken stupor. And the grin on his face is too cocky and smug for your taste and something about the look in his eyes tells you that you've just done something irreversible. That you've sealed your fate and won't be able look back. It takes a minute for your slow-moving syrupy thoughts to catch up. The realization of what you've done hits you with the subtly of a charging bull and your entire body runs cold. He must see the change in you because he's lurching forward and snatching you before you can run off with your newfound strength. "Hold on now, " he's laughing. The bastard is laughing. " I mean, shit the way you were sucking on me, I thought I'd be seein' the big man upstairs soon!" 

"Get your hands off of me!" You snarl. Because it had worked so well for you last time, but you don't care. You're angry, you're betrayed. But you can't blame anyone else but yourself and that's what terrifies you the most. 

"I can't do that now. It's gonna be you and me sweetpea! " He practically sings." For a good long while." 

You can't even form a sentence to ask him why. Why he suddenly has an interest in you, why he fed you his blood, why you wanted his blood. It all fades from the tip of your tongue before you can form the words, and then he's lifting you up like a bag of dog food and tossing you over his shoulder despite your protest. "Oh, hush now. " He scolds you lightly with a few pats on your rear and you try to knee him in the stomach but he's quick to catch the wayward limb. He walks past the totaled Ford, still smoking and crumpled against the fence post and heads off towards the road, whistling jovially as he goes with an arm secured around your waist to keep you held down in place. All while you limply hang from his shoulder, distantly watching the asphalt pass underneath his boots, and the way that the rowels of his spurs slightly rotate between their shanks with each step. You can't help but wonder what your family will think when you never come back home. When a cop or some person on their way into the nearest town spots your crumpled up car on the side of the road or whatever is left of the diner and reports you as a missing person. Or dead. 

Will they look for you? You think about your father sitting at the dining room table, awake too early and drinking a mug full of coffee so black that it'll make your lips twists up like you ate something sour and your mother sitting in front of the TV every night to watch her reruns while she picks out a new novel for her book club- which is really just an excuse to gossip and complain about the neighbors. 

You may never be a part of that again. You may never see them again. And a heavy lump is inside your throat threatening to push tears up. Even Sam and his cheating and his sweet, dimpled smile and his constant prattle about business sales - you'd take it all back in a heartbeat. You'd take the pain and the lying and the hurt but instead you're here. Tossed over some psychopath's shoulder. 

"Calvary's here!" He suddenly cheers, breaking you from your spiral. You have to prop a hand on his lower back suspend yourself up enough to look back over your shoulder, but it gives enough leverage to make out a pair of headlights piercing the through the darkness ahead. The sight of it has a lump of dread forming in the pit of your stomach, heavy and unforgiving. And Severen seems to sense your unease, because he's working a hand up the back of your thigh in what he seems to think are soothing stokes. " Yer gonna be alright, the family is gonna love ya!" 

And some helpless part of you still stupid enough to cling onto hope wants to cry out, to beg him to let you go. To pretend that this entire night never happened. But you know its fruitless. You're in too deep now. You were as soon as they stepped into that diner. Whatever happened now you'd just have to hope that you make it out alive. But maybe you wouldn't want to. 

"Shit sugar, me and you might have some fun after all!" 

[ambigirl]

Why are girls so different!? Part 1

Notice: this is an au for Wind breaker characters

Characters: Haruka Sakura, Tachibana Kotoha, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Kiryu Mitsuki, Akihiko Nirei, Kaji Ren, Toma Hiiragi, Taiga Tsugeura, Tsubakino Tstsuku

Ship: Kotoha x Sakura

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why are girls so different?"

This question has been living in his head rent free for days. It isn't like he had encountered many girls in his life! As a matter of fact, in all his life, girls had been avoiding him. It may be because of his aggressive attitude, or may be because of his heterochromia weird appearance.

But recently, a girl has entered his life. She doesn't seem to be scared of him. In fact, she stared into his eyes, face to face, and said his appearance is awesome! He felt something in his heart that wasn't familiar, so for avoiding it, he snapped and yelled. But she didn't seem scared of his attitude, too! What a weird girl...

All of this fun started from the time he met her, and now, he's in front of the mirror, weirdly caring about his appearance. He had his comb in his hands and was trying some new hairstyle that makes him look better. Suddenly, he snapped out of imagination and found himself with his hair looking like Umemiya Hajime, his senpai in school.

"Huh!?"

He felt weird, why is he trying to change his appearance!? He tried to find the answer from what he remembered from yesterday:

~ He was walking in the street with his hands full. The first year's patrol finished just half an hour ago, so, after saying goodbye to his classmates and a little chit-chat with Suo and Nirei, he met with people he helped during the patrol. For some reason, people has started to call him "captain Sakura". The sound of "captain Sakura, take this" "captain Sakura, take that" was filling the area. Sakura couldn't stop blushing, thinking about how popular he has become. He both like and hate being the centre of attention.

"This town is full of weirdos" he thought.

Suddenly, someone passed by him that caughthis eyes. His eyes widened by the sight of shiny brown threads dancing in the air.

"Ko..."

He stopped himself, remembering how embarrassing it is to call her by her name. It loks like she was in hurry, and her face was sweaty. The weather was kinda chilly, so he couldn't understand why she was sweating this much. He took a big step and caught her hand.

"Oi"

She turned back with a big gasp. But then, her eyes sparkled.

"Sakura! What a relief, you scared me."

He grabbed his things in one hand, then opened his hand in front of her face.

"Let me carry your stuff"

She smiled and said: "are you sure!? Your own stuff seems heavy, but mine aren't"

"J-just give them to me already" he blushed. "A man wouldn't let a woman carry things when he's around."

Mitsuki taught him that. He never thought he'd use this on her, of all people.

Kotoha smiled and handed over all the things that was carrying.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to trouble you."

"It's nothing."

She looked her back real quick, kinda nervously.

"Uhhh, Sakura, I'm happy that I've seen you! You're a life saver." She gave him a big smile.

"Can you... please... go somewhere with me tomorrow!?" She said it while trying to open the cafe.

"Where!?"

"Well, I wanna go shopping, and since I have a lot of things to buy, they're going to be heavy for sure. I wanted to ask Nii... I mean, Umemiya, but he's really busy."

He put all the eggs on the cabinet and said: "well, ok. What time!?"

"How about 10 a.m?"

"it's ok". He sat on the chair. "Can I have omelette rice?"

Kotoha giggled. "Ok ok. Wait a little". ~

Sakura came back to present, suddenly remembering it's 9:45.

"Gah, I wish my hair wasn't 2 coloured. I look weird with any hair style!"

He left the comb on his futon and ran outside. He didn't want to be late for...

He stopped and grabbed his head between his arms. "Stop thinking about date, this isn't a date, you're just gonna help her, that's it". Would someone as mature as her even think about dating someone like him!? This question popped into his mind, causing a pain in his heart. "Well, that hurts."

Kotoha was standing in front of cafe, with a long white and green dress. This was the first time Sakura had seen Kotoha with a dress! "She looks so pretty!" He couldn't resist this idea in his mind. "I should tell her, I think."

"Hi."

Kotoha gave him a smile. "Hello Sakura."

Sakura couldn't open his mouth to say "this dress suits you so much" or "you look pretty". It was so embarrassing that thinking about it made him blush wildly.

"Y-y-you have changed your appearance". He said it while trying to look away.

"Oh, you mean this dress!? Yes. I... like wearing these kind of dresses, but wearing them when I'm alone makes me feel uncomfortable." She blushed saying that, with an uncomfortable face.

"Why? It looks pretty on you!"

Suddenly, he understood that he let that slip his mouth, tried to fix it.

"I-I-I-I mean..."

But Kotoha seemed kinda sad. "Thank you, but when there isn't a man around, other men try to harass, especially when I'm wearing these beautiful dresses."

Sakura couldn't stop himself from feeling sad. She seemed really upset about it. Sakura could remember the first time they met, there were a group of boys surrounding her, trying to drag her with themselves.

"Well, now I'm here, so don't worry about anything and enjoy wearing this dress"

Sakura said it by instinct, with a blushing face. Kotoha looked at him with surprise, but then, she smiled. "Thank you, I really appreciate it." She grabbed his arm as they were entering the mall.

Sakura looked at Kotoha's face, blushing about her grabbing his arm, but saw Kotoha with a shiny face and eyes full of sparkles, with a tiny blush on her chick.

"Let's Go!!!" Her voice was full of excitement.

Sakura never had seen someone being this happy about shopping! "Why are girls always look so happy while shopping!?" Well, according to what he knows, guys mostly think shopping is a pain in the ass, and don't do it till it's completely necessary, but girls!!! He heard that girls love going into shopping malls and not coming out for hours!!!

Sakura took a long breath. "Haaaahhhh, I hope God save me from a long shop!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I wished we could've went back and eat your omelette rice instead of eating ramen here" Sakura said it with a pout. Kotoha gave him a small laugh.

"We're out, so why not enjoying a meal outside of what we usually eat!?"

"I-I like trying new things!!! But... I like food at your cafe more... kinda"

Kotoha gave a very kind smile. "I'm happy to hear that!" (Her face in my mind: 😄)

Sakura put the chopsticks into his mouth angrily. He couldn't help but think Kotoha is angry at him. For 3 or 4 hours straight, she was putting on different kind of dresses and showing them to Sakura.

"Does it look good on me!?"

And Sakura, while couldn't help his dropped jaw could just say: "Yes! You look absolutely beautiful."

He feels like because he kept saying that, Kotoha is upset with him. She even said: "Are you saying it like this so we can finish our shopping sooner!?"

And Sakura answer it with "No, I mean everything I say."

Sakura wished he could give his vision to Kotoha, so he could see how stunning she is with the dresses she wear!

"Do guys look this different with some outfit change!?" In his opinion, guys don't look beautiful in any clothes, they can just look cooler and cooler. And it's not like if they change their t-shirt with another t-shirt, their appearance look cooler! But when Kotoha changed her t-shirt with another cloth that was strange to Sakura, her appearance went from stunning to absolutely stunning! And Sakura's jaw dropped on the floor by witnessing that!

"I'll pay the bill." Sakura said that with a pout. Kotoha stopped eating and looked at Sakura.

"Really!? How!? Do you have enough money!?"

"O-of course I have! I've been paid for doing some small things in town by elder people."

He - was - lying!

Yesterday, Hiiragi came in front of his home, after some talk they had about things they do in school, Hiiragi said: "Kotoha-chan told me she's taking you with her for shopping, is that right!?"

"Y-yes"

"Then, have this."

He gave Sakura some money. Sakura was blushing surprisingly.

"What is it for!?"

"For tomorrow. If you two went to a restaurant to eat something, or if there were small payments like taking taxi or buying something, do it with this. It's not that much, but it should be ok for the little time you two are going to spend together." Hiiragi looked at Sakura who looked struggled, and smiled. "I'm not doing it for you, I want Kotoha-chan to have a good time, and I know she'll have a good time if you don't get embarrassed in front of her." He sighed and turn his back. "We men have different world view about everything with women, and now, you're going to experience it yourself, and not with anyone, but with someone I consider my little sister, so, just have fun and don't worry about anything, your big brother have both of you guy's back!"

He waved at Sakura and disappeared in the darkness.

"Hiiragi, thank you." Sakura thought that with a smile.

Outside of restaurant, there was a game with some prizes. And the biggest prize was a big pink bear!

"Tch, who is that idiot to give money to get a big bear!?" Sakura thought, then turned around to see if her shopping is finished or not, just to face Kotoha with an excited face of her that sparkles were flying around her!

"Eh!? Eeeeeehhhhhh!? She's excited just for a big bear toy!?"

"Do you want it!?" Sakura said it with surprised face.

Kotoha turned around with puppy eyes. "C-can I please try!?"

Sakura felt his chest was empty for some seconds. "Eh!? Where's my heart!? I feel like I'm about to die!"

What's her deal!? "Ugggghhhhhh"

"It's f-fine, let's try it." HOW COULD HE SAY NO TO THOSE EYES!? DAMN IT!

Kotoha paid for the game. It was a simple game: throw the ball to some kind of animals. If you could take down the lion, you could get the big bear. Kotoha could throw it, but it didn't take it down.

"Aaaawwwwww". She seemed so sad.

"Don't worry, beautiful young girl, you can have one of these smaller items." The man said.

"Hold on, let me try once, too!"

Sakura grabbed the ball and throw it with every strength he had. The ball hit the lion and make a hole in both lion and the decorations behind it.

"What did you do!?" The man seems so angry.

"I'm sorry for that." He gave the remaining money he had to the man. "Can we take the big bear now!?"

The man threw hand angrily. "You can take whatever ... you want!"

Sakura got angry because of the curse he said. "Calm down Sakura, calm down. Remember you promised Kotoha and Hiiragi to not fight."

He picked the bear and went to Kotoha. "Is this the one you wanted!?" He asked.

"Yes! Yes! Can I carry it myself!?"

"Yes, here you go."

Sakura hand the big bear over to Kotoha, and she get it with a happy smile.

"Why are girls so different!? How can a girl smile this bright and suddenly becomes the centre of the world!? How can the world vanish and only she stays with such a beautiful smile!?" Sakura couldn't stop the thoughts popping into his mind.

"Sakura. Thank you for getting me this. Now, I wanna share my happiness with you."

She stands on her toes and gave Sakura a cheek kiss! He got frozen, he couldn't even remember how to breathe! He tried to imprison the shout that was coming from the bottom of his heart, and gulp down all "What was that for" words that were coming up his throat. She was hugging the bear very happily and he didn't want to ruin her mood.

Walking out of mall, they saw Tsubaki on patrol.

"Tsubakiiiiii-chaaaaaaa-"

While Kotoha tried to get Tsubaki's attention, Sakura ran to him while shouting "just a minute, I have to tell something to him".

He grabbed Tsubaki's arm and dragged him a little further.

Note: I'll write a part 2 for it, this one got too long and we're still in the middle of story ;-;

Note 2: according to official English editors of manga, the mangaka announced that Tsubaki's official pronounce is he/him.

Note 3: other characters will show up, too ;-;

[wackybuddiemewbs]

Buddie Moodboard - Red, White & Royal Blue AU

So, guess who's been watching this movie adaptation way too often as of late? I'm taking the usual moodboard-y liberties, including mixing in some stuff from the book and the movie adaptation and keeping them at their ages from the show (and change their roles in society up as well...) Also, just imagining Oliver getting to speak with his actual accent lives in my head rent-free, as do many other things. But that's definitely up in the Top 10. Cheers!

Vice President Eddie Diaz could not be any more excited to attend the wedding of his friend Chimney and Princess Madeleine, Maddie for short. Well, he could be a bit happier, if Prince Evan, Maddie's brother, did not attend. He can't stand the guy ever since they met at a climate conference years ago. Eddie just doesn't have the patience to deal with entitled rich boys the likes of Prince Evan. After all, Prince Evan's only achievement in life seems to be to have a new girl every other week to have his picture on the front page of every tabloid there is.

While Eddie will insist that Prince Evan started this, he winds up having some part in what later spreads across social media as #cakegate. Which means the Vice President of the United States and the Prince of England are caught on camera, covered in cake, in Buckingham Palace, at a royal wedding.

Like winning re-election for President Robert "Bobby" Nash wasn't hard enough as it is. To relieve the situation, Eddie is stuck flying down to London for several photo ops to sell the story that him and Prince Evan are year-long friends. After all, alliances with Britain will be important, moving forward in Bobby's campaign.

Though the more time he's forced to spend with Prince Evan, the less he seems like the guy who was being such a jerk to him at that climate conference years ago. In fact, he seems like a genuinely good person. Who could have guessed?

While Eddie will insist that the prince enlisting MI6 to get his personal phone number, it does amuse him that Prince Evan seemingly wants to stay in touch. Over the next couple of months, the two wind up messaging each other almost daily. And to his even greater surprise, Eddie finds himself opening up to this man more than he's opened up to anyone ever since his wife passed away.

Prince Evan, or "Buck" as only friends get to call him, turns out to be anything but the persona portrayed by the Palace as well as the tabloids. Sure enough, he is a flirt, but a lot of his bravado covers up a rather insecure person who feels like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. Though the moment he is just with Eddie or Christopher, Buck seems perfectly at peace.

And strangely enough, Eddie does as well. After everything that's happened, he struggled trusting people with his son - and with himself. But with Buck, it's shockingly easy.

But things get complicated fast at the new year's party hosted at the White House. Because Eddie was not prepared for only just a second that Buck would end up kissing him.

And he did not expect to end up liking it.

Because he most definitely thought he was straight.

But after a few very awkward conversations with his friends, Eddie starts to realize that his actual sexual orientation may have been one of those other things he has since repressed. Who would have thought?

Buck is mortified at first, as he did not intend to confess his feelings for Eddie. But when they see each other again and Eddie kisses him back like that, Buck starts to believe that Eddie actually likes him back.

As both do not want a coming out just yet, considering their current situations as public figures, the two promise to keep things "casual". This arrangement works for a while, or so it would seem. Because it gets hard to stay "casual" when you start to care about someone so very deeply.

Buck makes some shocking discoveries surrounding his brother Daniel, which sheds a very different light on what he thought was his "destiny" and why his parents are acting that distantly towards him. To support Buck, Eddie invites him over to Los Angeles - where he normally lives, if not for his current political duties calling him to Washington. He wants to be there for Buck, and hopes that spending quality time with Christopher is going to get Buck out of his own head.

The plan proves to be a disaster, though. Buck spending a day "incognito" at the pier with Christopher results in both of them getting caught up in a tsunami. While both thankfully survive the natural disaster mostly unharmed, Buck is livid in the aftermath. He is convinced that he lost Christopher and thus failed him and Eddie.

Eddie draws very different conclusions after the event. After nearly losing both Christopher and Buck, Eddie is done being afraid of what other people - including his family - may think about him and his sexual orientation. He makes plans to bring Buck to Texas with him, to get to know his family, and to come out to them. And to make it clear that he is serious about wanting a relationship with Buck, as he has since fallen in love with him.

Just as Eddie is about to profess his feelings, Buck flees the scene and flies back to London. He refuses to talk to Eddie after that. But Eddie is not willing to give up just yet. So Eddie takes Christopher with him on his last-minute trip to London. Buck is in shock when he sees the two basically storming a castle to see him. Eddie confronts him about rushing off and ghosting him. Buck tries to act the part, but Eddie has since understood that Buck is just putting up a facade.

Buck eventually drops the act. More than anything, he wants to spend his life with Eddie and Christopher. He simply didn't dare to think that he could, given his role in life, and the fact that he still blames himself for what happened during the tsunami.

The two eventually reconcile, now sure of each other's true feelings for one another.

But just as they are about to get their lives back together and plan for a future together, chaos strikes when news start to spread about their relationship. Buck is yet again terrified, as the journalist running most of the stories is Taylor Kelly, an ex he thought he could trust in. And now it may cost Eddie his career, Bobby his re-election, Maddie's freedom away from the palace to find happiness with Chimney, and Buck the future he finally dared to fight for...

Find more moodboards here.

[backslashdelta]

Thanks to @cryscendo for the tag and for past tags and to everybody else who has tagged me in the past and then I haven't made a post... I appreciate every time I get tagged, I've just been kinda drowning in work lately and haven't had time to write.

BUT I'm going to share a little bit I wrote several months ago for tbosas au which has been living rent free in my head for a while - I started outlining this back in December, and will hopefully eventually get to write it all! This is more than 6 sentences because fuck the rules <3

“And there he is, Blaine Anderson himself,” Santana announces to their small group. “They can’t give him the prize, right? He already has enough handed to him, being an Anderson.” Blaine catches Sebastian’s eye for just a moment before Sebastian can turn back to the group, and he starts to walk over. “Which is ridiculous anyway, he’s district. He doesn’t even belong here but he still has everything handed to him? It makes no sense.” As Blaine walks up to the group, Santana plasters a sickeningly sweet smile across her face. “Hi, Blaine.” “Hi Santana,” Blaine greets her quickly, then looks to Sebastian. “Hey, Bastian.” Sebastian cringes a little, hates it when Blaine calls him that, like they’re the best of friends, hates that being associated with Blaine makes everyone else question his own place here, too; he doesn’t need his status being questioned, it’s hard enough fooling them all as it is without Blaine getting in the way. But Blaine knows what Sebastian’s life is, Blaine’s whole family knows, and it’s humiliating but he can’t help it, needs to stay on Blaine’s good side so that at least he’ll keep it to himself.

Going to tag @daisyishedwig @esperantoauthor @blurglesmurfklaine @kurtsascot @calsvoid @fallevs and anybody else who wants to do this! (I know some of you already got tagged but I'm double tagging you because I want to and fuck the rules <3)

[droewyn]

RedSpidey plot bunny, free to a good home

Because I'm not confident enough in my BatFam to write them, but this lives in my head rent-free, and I'd love to read it.

Peter Parker / Tim Drake crossover by way of the multiverse.

"Lost objects" soulmate AU. In this AU, anything that you lose winds up in the possession of your soulmate. You can't game the system by throwing things away on purpose; it has to actually be lost.

Six months after the events of No Way Home, Peter Parker is going through the motions. "Peter Parker" himself barely exists anymore; he's faked his own credentials -- not particularly difficult after the Blip -- but those carefully forged ID papers are really all that's left of him. Peter Parker is the nonentity who delivers photos to Jameson. He's the bane of his landlord's existence. The rest of the time, he's Spider-Man.

Peter Three said that he'd eventually stopped pulling his punches. Peter One has stopped ducking them. Oh, he dodges the flung busses, the vaporizing energy rays, and the mutagen grenades. He's not suicidal. Not... not really. He takes the big threats seriously; the city can't afford for him not to. But the street-level thugs and muggers really can't do too much to hurt him, even if they're armed. He'll heal. He always heals. And while they last, those cuts and bruises (and occasional gunshot wounds) remind him that he's real, that he's not just a ghost, haunting New York, possessing his own superhero identity. The pain is a reminder that he's not dead. Which is important. Probably.

He's long since stopped wondering about his soulmate. He still keeps the random objects that he finds, storing them safely in a shoebox under his bed, but it's mostly out of habit. Whoever keeps misplacing the coffeeshop punch-cards, the occasional roll of film, the weird-looking charging cables and bits of disassembled tech, and that one really tacky, bat-shaped throwing star that probably came from the same mall kiosk that sold knockoff Lord of the Rings swords... whoever that person is, they are better off far, far away from Peter. From Spider-Man.

It's been a particularly bad night. He's bruised. He's bloody. He hasn't bothered to look at the camera's memory yet, but he's pretty sure that there won't be anything usable on it. His third eviction notice has been taped to his door, and the contents of his refrigerator should be classified as a bioweapon. He's just. So tired. He barely manages to peel the mask off before flopping into bed, the fabric still clutched between his fingers.

And when he wakes up again, he's in a bedroom larger than his entire apartment, in a bed softer than a cloud (and quite possibly also larger than his entire apartment), and the only thing more astonishing than the thread count of the sheets he's tangled in is the sleeping face of the pretty, black-haired boy roughly his own age, whose nose is eight inches from his own.

Blue eyes blink open, going from sleepy to alert in an instant. The boy's feet kick out, and ow, did they have to connect with the kidney that was still recovering from the stab wound? He finds himself literally booted out of bed, blinking dazedly at a ceiling that doesn't have any water damage at all, and it's only his Peter T... spider sense that gets him to move in time to avoid the staff that slams into the carpet where his head had just been.

Who the hell sleeps with a weapon within reach? A quick thwip, and a practiced jerk of his wrist, and the staff sticks harmlessly to the wall. (It's not a double-standard, okay? Just because he's been sleeping in his costume more often than not lately doesn't make it intentional, just... efficient.)

The black-haired boy also enjoys efficiency. He's firing question after question at Peter, even as he chases him around the room. Who is he working for? What does he want? How did he get inside the bedroom? Something about the main character of Persona 5? Peter's not sure about that one. They're all excellent questions, and ones he'd also like to know the answers to. But he can hear other heartbeats nearby, other voices, running footsteps. He's about to be outnumbered. He also just woke up, hasn't had a chance to pee yet, and his mouth tastes disgusting.

He goes out the window and keeps going, until he gets to a city that definitely isn't New York, and he's managed to lose all of the weirdly competent rich people.

It doesn't take him long to realize that he's in another universe. He's also pretty sure this one isn't his fault; he's stayed as far away from Dr. Strange as he has everyone else from his former life, and he hasn't had any big villains in a while. Not that it really matters; he's back to square one again, only this time, all he has is the suit on his back, a phone that won't connect to anything, and a handful of spare web fluid cartridges tucked into his pocket.

He needs to find a way home. He needs to figure out what happened, and how and why, and fix it. Doesn't he? He doesn't exist here, and okay, he barely existed back home, but that's where he's meant to be. Isn't it? Where every familiar landmark is a bad memory, and "I Believe Mysterio" shirts are commonplace. Where he's just as likely to be cursed at as thanked, and no matter what he does, nothing ever seems to get any better. Not for him, or for anyone else.

He's hungry. He's more alone than he's ever been in his life. He finds a place to squat for the night, and falls into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up in the black-haired boy's bed again.

[diazsdimples]

Fic Writing Review 2023 🥳

Words and Fics

222,730 words published to AO3

1 fandom (9-1-1)

Most recent drop: sugar and spice and all that smells nice (Buddie | 6.3k | E)

Longest fic: Buck's Baby (By Accident) (Buddie | 119k | G)

Top Fics By Kudos

Buck's Baby By Accident (Buddie | 119k | G)

Fucking Finally (Finally Fucking) (Buddie | 3.9k | E)

Burning with Need (Buddie | 3.8k | E)

First Words (Buddie | 2k | G)

In sickness and in health (but mostly in sickness) (Buddie | 3.7k | G)

My Fandom Events in 2023

Didn't do any! I joined the fandom in June and didn't write anything until July 🙃

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

This all depends on how many babies need delivering next year ngl, and how much of the year I spend on call but here's the WIPs I have so far!

To finish/publish:

With you I'm home - I quoted 20 chapters for this because Buck's Baby was also 20 chapters but I am 100% playing this by air. In this fic, we see Buck and Eddie embarking on their first year of marriage. They have a 2 year old son (Aidan) and Christopher, who is 14. This fic will show them navigating parenting a boisterous toddler and a sassy teenager while they begin their journey to having a new baby.

Cat Fic!! - this has been sitting in my WIPs folder for months now and I haven't had the beans to write it recently! Buck has adopted a cat with a curious name that brings a whole load of feelings to the forefront of his brain (is he saying I love you to the wrong Eddie?) and also provides some excellent material to fuck with his friends.

AUs that live in my head rent free

GTA AU - Listen I know this sounds weird, BUT, Buck and Eddie are heads of rival motorcycle gangs and constantly engage in turf wars. They realise they have the same product dealer for their cocaine lockups, who has been selling them dodgy product, resulting in loss of revenue for both men. They come together to confront the man realise they work extremely well together and who knows, maybe rival MC gang members can fall in love!

Piano Teacher!Buck, Parent!Eddie and Student!Chris - this was inspired by my Musician AU Play me like a fiddle, and was vaguely encouraged on Ao3 by @theotherbuckley, and will be a oneshot of Eddie coming to Buck after being referred to him by Christopher's physical therapy. Buck is more than happy to take Christopher on as a student is fast delighted by his constant, bubbly optimism. Eddie watches as Buck teaches his son and watches Christopher's confidence in himself build and realises, fuck, he's slowly falling in love with his son's teacher.

His Dark Materials AU - Buck finds himself in possession of an alethiometer and the more questions he asks of it, trying to figure out it's true meaning, the more he finds himself being drawn towards a dark, mysterious man he's noticed hanging around the college lately. Buck's daemon is instantly drawn to Eddie's daemon and the two find themselves unlikely friends, embarking on a quest to discover what it is the alethiometer is trying to warn them about.

Single Parents AU - Buck is the single father of two daughters and has just joined the 118 and is struggling to find his place. He meets another single father at his daughter's school in the pick up line one day and Eddie reveals he's training at the LAFD but struggling with childcare while he does it. Buck suggests they combine childcare and offers to help Eddie train, and even gets him a position in the 118 when Eddie graduates. How long will they coparent their three kids before they realise they've got it bad for each other?

Misc. ideas that haven't quite developed into fics yet but exist!

Magic Au - Buck and Eddie both have the power to control their auras (which have a colour and scent specific only to them) and go through rigorous training to enable them to save the earth from the Elder Race threatening to take over (inspired by Michael Scott's Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

Detectives AU - I've been watching too many Scandinavian crime shows and want to write Buddie solving a grisly murder

Chances are I'll come up with more over the summer!

Tags and rules under the cut

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tagged by @jesuisici33 and @hippolotamus thank you my loves!

(no pressure) tagging @malewifediaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @theotherbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @spagheddiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks (ignore if you've already done it!)

[pinkberrytea]

Tysm for the tag @eraserspiral! 😚🫶❣️

last song: Obsessions by Marina

currently reading: I’ve been reading fanfiction almost exclusively as of late, which uh, I guess is not exactly surprising. The one I’ve most recently started devouring is Aeterna Nostalgia by the wonderful @bardic-inspo. Highly highly recommend it! 🙏

currently watching: …Fallout. I swear! I do intend to finish it! One day!

currently craving: vamp dick 🍆

coffee or tea?: hot cocoa 🍫

a hobby you would like to try: either cold porcelain sculpting or needle felting!

an AU you’re working on/thought of: I’m not usually an AU girlie but boy oh boy. Priestarion has been living rent-free in my head ever since I read @astarionancuntnin’s latest oneshot. I need a part two of that. Desperately 😫💦

No pressure tagging @locallegume, @zekeen, @judasiskariot, @nyx-knox, @hhh-hemogoblin, @honeybee-bard, @kalmiaphlox, @khywren, @xxnashiraxx, @starryjuicebox and @allymcfee!

[pynkhues]

i cannot even begin to tell you how much i’m looking forward to your next iwtv fic. to your beacon in the gloom has been living rent free in my head ever since you posted it….. the prospect of a 25k!!!!! loustat fic from you makes me feel like i’m going to explode with excitement

Ahhh, thanks, anon! You're all so sweet! Hopefully it'll live up to the expectations. Have a little excerpt ;-)

-

“Got quite an audience out there already,” he says, and when Lestat glances back at him, a question in his look, Louis tilts his head back out towards the hallway, gesturing to where the groupies linger out of sight on the other side of the door, and okay, here’s the thing:

They’d decided this current stasis – this period of being intimate, often, but not necessarily together – would continue until the last note sounded on Lestat’s current tour, at which point the stage lights would dim and the light at a house back down in New Orleans could flicker on. A vow to be renewed, a home to be remade, a bed, Louis had said when they’d agreed, wry smile on his lips as Lestat’s eyes danced, to be broken in. In theory, it had offered them a window of time that would allow them both to get certain indiscretions out of their system before they tried their hand at monogamy again, but the reality had proven - - complicated.

After all, the result of the agreement had felt to both an effective engagement, and combined with the fact that they’d been fucking more than they hadn’t lately while still both, separately, dabbling in the company of pliant and reverent strangers, had resulted in more sore feelings and spikes of jealousy than either seemed willing to admit.

Still, Louis reminds himself, this is what they had decided for this brief chapter in their story, and he is trying to be okay with it.

“Any of them worthy of your time tonight?” he asks, echoing Lestat’s earlier words back at him, because he’s curious, yes, but also, perhaps, because it means he won’t ask about the other thing that Lestat’s been doing tonight. In the mirror, Louis can see Lestat’s lips twitch into a smile, but he covers it quickly (tries to, at least), turning slowly around to take Louis in. The run of his gaze envelopes Louis like a hot bath, Lestat’s desire always something desperate to swallow.

“Bright eyed innocents and sweet-talking sycophants,” Lestat says, voice rolling out towards Louis as he places his liquid liner pen back onto the surface of the vanity. “It’s sweet for a moment, but moments are fleeting. How could they be worthy when you are here tonight? Endless in your beauty, my Saint Louis, they should glaze your image in church windows to bring the faithless back to worship, the devil himself would crawl out of his bed in hell to pay penance in your glow.”

And it ain’t right, the effect Lestat’s blasphemous tongue has on him, the heat it sends to the holy thing between his legs, and Louis wets his lips, feels Lestat’s gaze drop to his mouth, and makes a point to roll his eyes in Lestat’s direction. It serves as an invitation, like they both knew it would – there’s nothing Lestat likes more than proving his devotion when Louis flirts with skepticism.  

“Careful, keep talkin’ like that the devil might come lookin’,” Louis drawls, voice lower than he means as Lestat starts to slink into his space.

“You don’t believe me?” Lestat asks, nimble fingers hooking instantly in the waistband of Louis’ pants and here, this close, Louis can smell him – the honeyed sweetness of his shampoo, the faint smell of blood (too faint, has he fed tonight? Has he had the time to?), that thing underneath it, soft as an iris in bloom, that’s somehow just him. Lestat leans in close, eyes somehow bluer now that they’re rimmed in sparkling eyeliner, gaze dipping to Louis’ parted lips. “Comment un homme peut-il prouver au divin qu’il est un vrai croyant?” 

And with that, he kisses him again, the rest of the world slipping away, and Louis cups his cheek, traces his fingers over the line of his cheekbone, the skin rougher than it should be from the glitter, as Lestat slips his tongue into his mouth. It’s over too quick, Lestat pulling away just to drop to his knees, and Lestat’s working on the buttons on Louis’ slacks before Louis’ brain can catch up.

“That a good idea?” he asks, because shit, now? He can already feel the vibrations through the floor of the support act starting to play, but Lestat looks up at him through the fan of his lashes, mouth open and eyes wide, and Louis thinks actually, maybe it’s a great idea.