#world whiskey day

[angelasscribbles]

Victim of Love Chapter 1: Whiskey and Women

Series: Victim of Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake x Riley

Word Count: 795

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, drinking

Song Inspiration for series: Victim of Love by The Eagles

What kind of love have you got?

You should be home but you're not

A/N: This is my submission for World Whiskey Day because there is whiskey in it so it very loosely qualifies, lmao! But of course, it turned into a whole thing.....🙃so there will be more chapters! 😆

Thanks to @harleybeaumont for prereading and encouraging!!!

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake Walker plucked a tumbler of whiskey off a serving tray as he walked. His head turned as a curvaceous blond smiled at him, so he wasn’t watching where he was walking.

“Oh, excuse me, I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed, barely managing to save his drink from spilling as a mid-ballroom collision occurred.

“Good save,” came the amused response. His eyes moved from the glass in his hand to the owner of the voice.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he took in the most stunning woman that he’d ever laid eyes on. Her deep auburn curls cascaded down her back. The A-line, off-the-shoulder deep crimson dress she was wearing left little to the imagination despite the sweeping chiffon train. Cleavage spilled out of the top and a smooth, supple thigh flashed through a very daring slit.

But what really caught his attention was the sparkle in the emerald depths of her eyes, the scintillating smile that somehow took his breath away, and the teasing lilt in her voice. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry!” He shook himself out of his stupor, “Are you okay? Did you spill your drink?”

“I’ll survive. The wine is replaceable. So is the dress for that matter.” She said dismissively as she glanced down at the small but spreading wine stain on her bodice.

“The dress…” his eyes followed hers, then fell down her body as the image of her removing it suddenly took over his consciousness, rendering him speechless once again.

“Well, it was nice running into you. Let’s do it again sometime. Only, you know,” her voice dropped to a sultry whisper as she drawled out the word, “slower….” She wiggled her fingers at him as she walked away.

“Wait!” He deposited the drink on the nearest available surface, abandoning a perfectly good tumbler of top-shelf whiskey in his haste to catch up with her, “I don’t even know your name!”

She tossed a smile over her shoulder as she continued through the crowd, “Do you need to know my name?”

“Oh, absolutely!” He jogged a little to get in front of her, then continued to walk backward so he could face her. Placing both hands over his heart, he declared, “Please! I don’t think I can go on another minute without knowing it!”

She threw her head back and laughed, “Has that line ever actually worked?”

Her laugh delighted him. His grin widened, “I’ve never used it before, but so far, so good.”

She stopped at the bar and grabbed a handful of napkins to blot the wine on her dress.

His eyes dipped down to her left ring finger, “You’re not married, are you?”

“No,” she replied with a rueful smile, “I’m not married.”

“That’s good news! No husband to shoot at me!”

A smile tugged her lips up as she discarded the napkins and ordered another glass of wine, “Been shot at by a lot of husbands, have you?”

“Just the one,” he shuddered at the memory.

“You’re funny. And cute. Have we met before? You look familiar.”

“Absolutely not. I’d remember you! Maybe you’ve seen me in passing somewhere. Did you attend the royal wedding?”

“No.”

“The coronation?”

“I was there,” she lifted the glass to her lips and took a long sip. Her eyes tracked across his face then moved down his body taking in the broad shoulders and the perfect cut of his suit. The obvious expense of his clothing was in sharp contrast with the carelessness of his slightly overgrown hair and the athletic trainers he wore in place of dress shoes.

He didn’t quite fit in with what she’d come to expect of the nobility. “I think I’d remember you too. You’re not a duke or a count, are you?”

He snorted, “God, no!”

She laughed and it was a real laugh, one that came from deep inside. Nothing like the fake, high-pitched tinkling laughs he associated with ladies of the court. Something about it warmed his insides.

Her eyes traveled across the ballroom and the smile vanished.

He tried to follow her gaze, but the room was too crowded, and everyone was moving. “What?”

She gave him a slow, appraising look, and then a smile that was damn near predatory spread across her face, “You still want to know my name?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do!”

She put the wine glass down, stood up, placed both hands on his chest, and leaned forward to purr in his ear, “I’ll tell you my name if you can make me scream yours.”

“I….what?”

She walked toward the exit. He stared at her retreating back for a moment. She threw an unmistakable come-hither smile over her shoulder. He jolted into action and scrambled after her without a backward glance.

#world whiskey day #angelasscribbles #trr au #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #the royal romance fanfic #drake walker #trr #choices #cfwc fics of the week #victim of love #drake x riley

[doctorfriend79]

🥃 Happy World Whiskey Day! 🥃

#World Whiskey Day #Whiskey #Food And Drink #Photography

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 10 - Darkfall

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Drake tries to navigate a rough night...

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, obsessive-compulsive exercise, sexual fantasy, masturbation)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Sorry this took soooo long to get out! As per usual, real life has been exceptionally busy, so I haven't had as much time to write as I'd like to.

A/N2: This is also my slightly belated submission for World Whiskey Day, hosted by @drake-walker-appreciation, and the prompt that this fits with (more or less) is 'The whiskey burns my throat like her absence burns my soul.'

A/N3: I just realised that this kinda (maybe?) qualifies for the @springfeverpitch event that was on this week (Apologies! There are a lot of events on at the moment!) In any case, this would count as domestic x home run I guess 😅

Chapter 10 - Darkfall

I kick the covers off with an irate growl.

Un-fuckin'-believable...

After the shitshow of a day I've had, I should be running on fumes.

And I am.

Yet for some reason, I’m not able to nod off. Despite the fact that I've been on the go since 6am and have barely gotten any shut-eye the night before.

Because my body’s apparently a sucker for punishment and doesn’t seem to know when to quit. And even though I know I desperately need the recharge, I also know that staying in bed’s gonna achieve nothing 'cept hypertension.

So, swinging my legs out onto the carpet with a tight-set jaw, I reach for my phone.

02:18

I run a heavy hand through my hair.

The hell am I gonna do for the next six hours?

My eyes land almost unwittingly on the ragged shirt-tail peeking over the edge of the trash can.

I rip my gaze away with gritted teeth.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

It’a bad enough that I walked out on Gale without so much as a half-assed explanation. I ain’t gonna compound my dick-like behaviour by showing up at her door in the middle of the night, demanding to pick up where we left off.

Especially not after everything I've already subjected her to today — getting her fired, burning her in front of her friends, pulling her into a fight, dragging her on a forced route march 'cross town, and then literally ripping the shirt off her back. And, if that isn’t bad enough, I topped off her night by dumping the proverbial clutch on her when I should've been taking her for the ride of her life.

I swallow painfully. No. That ship had definitely sailed...

Which means it’s high time to take my own fuckin' advice and get her — and this entire mess of a day — out of my head.

No excuses.

And since the overpriced mini bar had let me down, I’m down to my only alternative — running myself into the ground.

Pushing myself up with a resigned exhale, I trudge over to my duffle. Reaching in, I extract the exercise shorts and t-shirt that always forms part of my go-bag, no matter where I went. Because you never know when you’re gonna need to blow off some steam. And going for a run’s a damn sight healthier than disappearing down the neck of a bottle. Even if the latter’s a helluva lot more convenient.

Throwing the clothes on, along with some socks and my well-worn trainers, I turn back to the bedside table to grab my phone and gun...

...and catch sight of the shirt again.

Motherfucker.

Jamming the phone and the Sig into my pockets — it always pays be prepared then be left holding your dick when shit inevitably hits the fan — I march over to the bin and yank the accursed thing out.

Scrunching it up, I turn on my heel, and stomp out of the room, snatching the keycard up on the way. Wrenching the door open, I let it bang shut behind me as I head down the corridor.

I cannot catch one goddamn break tonight...

Reaching the lifts, I briefly contemplate calling one. But given that I’m already wound tighter than a two-dollar watch, I know I won’t be able to stand the wait, no matter how brief.

So, I divert instead to the fire exit. Pulling the heavy door open, I throw myself into a jog and take the stairs upwards two at a time.

I guess I could've just as easily gone downstairs. But I don’t trust myself not to wind up at Gale's brownstone again if I hit the streets. Which means that the only place I can conceivably go is to the top-floor gym.

Which — all things considered — is probably the better bet anyway. Because going for a jog in the dead of night around the City That Never Sleeps is a risk not worth taking. And even though Central Park’s less than a block away, it’s not actually an option, given that (a) it’s shut overnight, and (b) it isn’t the best lit, and I don’t particularly feel like getting jumped by a knife wielding yahoo, or twisting an ankle on an uneven path.

Plus, I'd have to be a monumental idiot to even think about leaving Chris unattended again. Not that I expect to him go anywhere at this hour — except maybe all the way with Hayley. But I’m not about to make the same mistake twice in one day.

Christ knows I paid for it hard the first time 'round...

I feel my legs start to burn as I continue to climb relentlessly. But knowing that this is exactly what I need if I’m to have any hope of catching some zzz's tonight, I ignore the discomfort and push myself on.

Arriving on the 25th floor, I pause on the landing to catch my breath. But the short burst of exercise has merely thrown me a second wind. I still have a long way to go if I want to waste myself completely.

So, moving over to the stairwell door, I pull it open and step into the gym. Given the lateness of the hour, there's not a soul in sight, and it's just me and the view.

But there’s one thing I need to take care of first.

Locating the changing rooms, I head inside. And before I can think too much on it, or change my mind, I stride over to the dirty towel hamper and chuck the ruined shirt in...

...and dump a few towels on top of it for good measure.

Dead and buried.

Spinning quickly around, I exit the way I'd come, focusing my attention on the row of TechnoGym treadmills that face out onto the distantly twinkling lights of Harlem in the north, and not on how twisted my guts feel all of a sudden.

Picking a machine, I pull my phone and sidearm out of my pockets and place them onto the console so they won’t bang against my thighs as I ran, but still remained within reach in case I need them.

Taking a deep breath, I step resolutely onto the belt and hit go on a program at random.

The pace starts off sedately, barely faster than a speed walk. Reaching up to the console, I tap the speed up impatiently, not wanting to waste time on a warm-up I don’t need and most definitely don’t want.

I’n here to burn rubber.

The motor kicks into a higher gear, but it's not enough. Even though I’m now at a steady jog, my heart rate's barely above resting and I've yet to break a sweat. Not to mention the fact that my mind’s still fixating on the very thing I need to flush out of my system.

Gale, legs spread and head thrown back, moaning my name...

Raising my hand with a growl, I slap the panel again... and again... and again... until the belt is a blur beneath my feet and I'm pelting it like a demented bat outta hell.

The sudden speed forces my body into overdrive. My chest expands, my focus narrows, and my blood begins to pump in earnest, trying to supply my body with oxygen faster than it was being consumed.

I fall into a breakneck rhythm, limbs pumping to the rapid beat of my breath in a desperate effort to stay on the treadmill.

In... In... In... In... Out... Out... Out... Out...

The minutes and the miles tick past on the screen in front of me, but I barely register the stats. I'm too busy chasing oblivion...

...which remains stubbornly out of reach.

Because even as I push myself to the limit and my lungs start to burn and my muscles start to cramp, I can't escape her. She's still there, hazel-green eyes dancing on the edge of my awareness, the honey scent of her hair tickling my senses like smoke on the breeze.

And even as my vision begins to swim and the relentless pace pushes me to the verge of puking, I don't let myself ease up. Because that would be an admission of defeat and I’m not the type to quite that easy.

Not when there’s so much on the line.

Because beyond the fact that I let myself become consumed by a girl I barely know — an unhealthy and unsustainable hang-up that I need to nip in the bud, pronto — my continued preoccupation also ended up endangering Chris' life tonight.

And that’s inexcusable.

Not only is the guy the heir to a fuckin' throne, but he is my best — and arguably only — friend. And I let him down, both personally and professionally, by allowing myself to get distracted, just because a pretty set of legs had walked by.

And while I somehow managed to salvaged my colossal fuck-up, and we all walked away tonight without any casualties, I probably won’t m be able to pull a miracle like that out of my ass every time.

Nor should I expect to.

Especially not during the social season, when Chris is going to be constantly in the spotlight, shaking hands, being interviewed, always in an exposed setting. All it would take is one moment of distraction, one second of lost focus, for someone to pull a gun, to slip through the crowd, for our worlds to come crashing down.

And I’m not gonna let Chris — my brother — down like that.

I can’t.

So, doubling down, I dig deep and continue to pound the vestiges of my frustrations, my failings, and my regret relentlessly into the treadmill, the hard and fast staccato of my feet against the machine echoing around the otherwise empty space.

I have no clue how long I run for. Minutes? Hours? It makes no difference. Every wheeze feels like my last, every exertion a desperate attempt to break free of the purgatory of mistakes I trapped myself in.

And still I push on. Until I hit the proverbial wall and collapse against it, my vision blurry, my limbs shaking, my clothes drenched.

I stand there for what feels like eternity, feet straddling either side of the machine, the belt still whizzing at breakneck speed beneath me while I cling to the console like a life-line, trying to catch my breath.

And eventually my heart-rate slows, the buzzing in my ears clears, and I regain enough coherence to lift a hand and slap the treadmill off.

Pushing myself up to a standing position as the machine whirls to a stop, I wipe the sweat from my eyes and glance at the screen in front of me.

10 miles. 56 minutes.

I scoff wryly. Well, fuck me if that ain’t a new personal best... Who knew that self-pity could be such a potent motivator...?

Exiting the menus, I grab my stuff and move to step off the machine... only to very narrowly avoid face planting into the floor.

Oh, shit...!

Grabbing the console, I shake my head to try and clear the sudden nausea.

Christ, I feel awful...

My eyes land on the water fountain and I lurch towards it like a drunk out of a bar. Because that’s exactly how I feel like — sluggish, light-headed and stumbling around like a newborn calf. Which is no surprise considering I've just run the best part of half a marathon as if the Devil himself had been after me, having consuming nothing but two bottles of beer beforehand.

Apparently I do hate myself.

Managing to make it to the far wall without any incident — just — I lean over the dispenser to inhale the cool stream of water, nearly making myself choke in the process.

But I know I need to rehydrate myself, otherwise I’m gonna be in a world of pain in a few hours' time. So, after overcoming the initial shock to my system, I force myself to loosen up on the pace and start taking longer and slower gulps.

Having finally satisfied my body's cravings, I let go of the dispenser button to run the back of a trembling hand over my water-soaked mouth.

Sweet Jesus, I’m a mess...

I can’t remember the last time I pushed myself this hard on a workout.

But then I've never felt this way before... Like I’m an idiot, like I missed the pass, like I’m stuck in a maze with no way out.

And even though the hard run had managed to clear my mind, that latent feeling of... something is still there, writhing just beneath the surface, like an unscratchable itch under my skin.

And maybe it'll never go fully away. But I’m not about to give up without putting in a damn good fight.

Pushing myself up, I turn towards the pool. And even though I haven’t brought any swim trunks with me, my feet are already pulling me towards the siren call of the water.

Because if there’s one thing that’a guaranteed to set me right, it’s a full-body dunk.

Arriving at the side of the pool, I peel my sweat-soaked clothes off, leaving only my boxers on for the sake of modesty in case someone happens to walk in.

Taking a breath, I step out over the edge and plunge straight in.

The sting of salt hits my nose — not the same flavour as the Med, but then no pool’s ever gonna compete with that — as the water envelopes me and I let myself sink below the surface.

I hit the bottom and the echoey silence settles like a blanket around me, soothing my senses, taming my pulse.

I've always loved the water. Even before I could walk, I'd make a butt-shuffling beeline towards the end of the beach where the waves crashed onto the shore, unveiling a treasure trove of crabs, seashells and shiny rocks.

Of course, Mom'd been terrified that I'd get swept out to sea, or drown. So, to appease her fear, Dad had started taking me to swim lessons — first at the local therapy pool, but graduating quickly to the higher classes in the lap pool as I learnt to float, hold my breath, and leap off the diving board, all by the age of three.

From there my obsession only grew. I joined the school swim team, the water polo team, and even got certified as a lifeguard over the course of one summer. In short, I spent almost as much time in the water as out of it.

And then Chris introduced me to sailing.

At first I couldn't see the appeal of drifting around the Med on a sofa-sized boat when you could be swimming in it. But I've never been able to say 'no' to my best friend, so when he insisted I join him for a spin around the marina in his new Wayfarer one evening, I'd begrudgingly said yes. And had become instantly hooked. The speed, the technical precision, the feeling of flying over the water — it was all addictive.

Jack Sparrow'd had it right when he'd said that a ship is not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. Because even though those things are integral to the make-up of any craft, what a ship — or yacht, or catamaran, or any other vessel — really is, is freedom.

And for a restless 14 year-old, there was nothing more attractive than ditching the world to hang out with your buddy in the middle of the ocean, free of worries or adult supervision, just enjoying the endless view while you fished and talked about nothing in particular.

Of course, being teenagers, we were bound to get ourselves into deep water — quite literally. Which is how we ended up deciding that it'd be a great idea to take out a much larger sloop one evening... only to end up paying for that mistake when a storm decided to roll in out of the blue, catching us off guard and capsizing our craft.

And while that particular misadventure had ended up turning Chris off sailing once and for all, it had made me even more determined to get back out onto the water and obtain my ICC license. Which I did, the following summer.

And even though I no longer have Chris to share my maritime adventures with, my love of sailing — and of being out on the water — never diminished.

Because the sea is — and always has been — my personal haven.

Feeling my lungs start to itch from the lack of oxygen, I reluctantly open my eyes and kick back up to the surface.

But I don't feel like returning to dry land just yet.

So, drawing a quick breath, I stretch myself out and dip into an easy freestyle. Half-a-dozen strokes and I reach the edge of the pool. Diving down, I flip myself around to kick off the wall, resurfacing into a backstroke.

I repeat the pattern for about ten laps, enjoying the rare sense of peace that comes with gliding weightlessly through the water, strokes moving effortlessly in time with my breath.

Eventually, though, I’m forced to call it quits as my body finally runs out of steam and my rhythm starts to falter.

Grabbing onto the edge of the pool, I pause to catch my breath, arms and shoulders tingling from the exertion...

...and I suddenly realise that I'm starving.

Which, all things considered, is hardly surprising. The last time I had anything to eat was at that Midtown stake-house at dinner-time, which was over eight hours ago. And since then I've probably burnt through 800 calories' worth of pure stress, not to mention all the physical exertion I've put myself through. So, my blood sugar levels are shot.

Pulling myself out of the water, I pad over to the other side of the pool to collect my gear.

I briefly contemplate having a shower, but quickly ditch the idea on the basis that (a) I hadn't brought a change of clothes with me, and (b) I can’t trust myself not to go rooting for the ruined shirt that I ditched in the changing rooms earlier.

So, brushing off the worst of the water, I head straight for the lifts.

I’m not expecting to cross paths with anyone at whatever time in the morning it is. And if I do... well, they can suck it up. It's not like I’m walkin' around buck-ass naked.

Arriving back on our booked-out floor, I make my way to my room. Fishing the keycard out of the pocket of my shorts, I let myself in and flick the door closed behind me.

Dropping my exercise kit by my duffle, I locate the 24-hour room service menu and do a quick scan of the options.

A couple of items jump out at me, but knowing that I'll probably have breakfast with the guys in a few hours' time, I don’t want to have anything too heavy.

But then my eyes land on the cheeseburger, and before I can think twice about it, I've reached for the hotel phone and I'm putting the order through.

And even though I tell myself that it's because I never got to finish the one back at the dive bar two nights ago, I know that I'm lying to myself...

...so, I add a bottle of whiskey to the order for good measure.

Because I don’t want to blow up all my hard work by falling back into the same emotional sink hole that I only very narrowly managed to drag myself out of just now. So, I need something to distract myself.

Hanging up, I quickly sort my sweaty clothes out and stow them in the duffle before making my way into the bathroom to have another shower.

Once done, I throw on my jeans and a t-shirt (not bothering with socks or underwear) and flick the wall-mounted TV on to find something to pass the time with while I wait for the food to show up.

Not seeing any movies or series that particularly interest me, I eventually settle on a rerun of an old Pats game...

...but I find my mind wandering.

And it doesn't take long for my treacherous sub-conscious to dig up the very images that have been stalking me all night.

Gale, up in my face out on the club balcony, testing my limits and my sanity with that sassy smile of hers...

Gale, head thrown back and ass pressed up against me as we move to the techno-beat on the crowded dance-floor...

Gale, legs wrapped around me as her nails rake over my skin, fighting to get my shirt off as my tongue invades her mouth...

I groan despite myself, shifting uncontrollably on top of the covers...

...and realise that I've already lost the battle.

Shit.

My eyes land ruefully on the tell-tale tent pole straining the front of my pants.

I huff out a tight exhale.

If there'd been one thing I wanted to avoid tonight, it’s this...

Because I know that as soon as I dip a toe in that particular Rubicon, I’m screwed. And not in a good way.

Because when you've been continuously pushed to the edge, only to be yanked back each and every time from the precipice of release, a plain ol' wank just isn’t gonna do it.

Sure, jacking one out relieved the immediacy of the pent up need. But it’s never gonna hold a candle to the real thing. In part because it’s over in minutes and in part because cumming into your own hand feels about as satisfying as throwing yourself a one-man pity party.

Because sex is a team sport. And trying to run a solo play — when you know what the real thing feels like — is always gonna fall short of expectations. Because when you’re on your own, there’s no one to share the thrill with. To kiss, to tease, to fuck to the limit before letting go so you can finally implode into each other.

Which is why I'd tried my damnedest to exhaust myself so I wouldn't find myself in this situation. At least not until we were back in Cordonia, and I could avail myself of some options...

...'cept now I don’t have a choice.

Not unless I want to greet the bell hop with a raging hard-on...

Because unfortunately for me, my dick has apparently decided that it'd had enough of being baited, and is now gonna bend me over the barrel to get what it wants.

Regardless of the fact that it’s gonna be a massive let-down for both of us.

So, even as I try to shift my focus back to the Pats game — and sideline my ever-growing erection — all I manage to achieve is an even more persistent itch in my pants.

Because despite my resistance, we both know that thanks to the missed opportunity with Gale, chances are good that I’m not gonna find anything resembling decent satisfaction until after the Masquerade Ball.

As even though we'll be arriving back to a Palace teeming with all manner of women — from maids to staff to nobles — that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be casting a net. In fact, just the opposite. I’m not the type to shit where I eat (it causes too much unnecessary mess) and I learnt my lesson about fucking aristos the hard way.

Which means that unless I’m planning to shell out for a call girl — hell'd have to freeze over first — a self-administered hand-job is gonna have to tide me over until there’s a big enough gap in my schedule that I can get away from the Palace for a couple of hours and find some stress relief.

I heave a low breath. Fuck my fuckin' life...

But knowing that I've backed myself into a corner, I reach resignedly for my belt. Unhooking the buckle, I fling it to the side to expose the top button of my jeans. Snapping the fastening open with one hand, I yank the zip down with the other.

The denim falls away and my dick springs free of its confines, its rigid length snapping to attention like an overeager hound that has just caught a scent.

And even though this particular outing isn’t gonna end in the long, hard run we both know we need, that doesn't stop the damn thing from drooling like a mutt in anticipation.

Setting my jaw, I shove my jeans down over my hips, half-heartedly wishing I had some lube or something to try and improve this runaway train-wreck as I reach south...

...and groan out loud as my hand wraps around the warm shaft.

Goddamn...

I’m apparently more deprived than I realised. Though, I guess that shouldn't come as a massive surprise. Especially after the near constant edging that Gale subjected me to tonight, combined with the fact that it's been a good two weeks since the last time I managed to eke out time for a fuck. And that had been mediocre at best.

As if to emphasise the point, my dick bucks against palm, and it's clear that I have a lot of mitigating to do.

Sliding my fist firmly down, then back up again, I set about stoking up a rhythm. And even though it's nothing different to what I've done hundreds of times before, something about the familiar friction sparks an instant fire in my veins.

Maybe it's 'cause I’m exhausted... Maybe it's 'cause my mind’s a mess... Maybe it's 'cause I've gone cold turkey for too long...

But whatever it is, it’s sending me into a tailspin.

I feel my head tip back against the headboard with a low moan as I'm pulled rapidly under by the throes of my self-gratification.

And as my eyes shudder closed in the face of the rising tension, I give myself up to the darkest depths of my desire...

...and in a blink of an eye, I’m back in that cramped apartment, gazing up at Gale from between her legs, the imminence of her climax written on her face, the slickness of her arousal coating my mouth and tongue.

I groan into her as she grips my hair, urging me on with her increasingly desperate pleas, her body quivering above me as she careers towards the edge...

...and I’m suddenly possessed by an all-consuming urge to have her.

Shooting to my feet, with her legs still wrapped around my shoulders, I send her sprawling back over the top of the kitchen counter.

Because I know that we don’t have much time, and if I’m gonna make this happen, we need to do it hard and fast.

And I’m not gonna let myself disappoint her again.

Grabbing her by the waist, I yank her towards me. Her hazel-green eyes widen in shock as her ass dips over the edge of the counter. But my grip on her is unshakeable and she's not going anywhere.

Not yet anyway.

Not until I've fucked her six ways 'til Sunday, and even then I probably won’t let her leave.

Because this girl sets me on fire like nobody else, and I need her to burn with me.

Bending down to give her decadent folds one more self-indulgent lick, I steady her with one hand while I rip my belt and jeans open with the other, not able to take my eyes off her as she writhed before me.

"Drake...!"

The sound of my name slipping off her lips like a fervent prayer unleashes something feral inside of me. Something I didn't even know existed in the dark recesses of my soul. Something that instantly swallows whatever vestiges of rational thought I have left, leaving only one, single-minded purpose:

To make her mine.

And in some corner of my brain I know I should be terrified. Of this rabid hunger that she's unwittingly awakened within me. Of the fact that I can’t control it... and don’t want to.

But I'm already past the point of no return. And I can’t give a rat's ass.

Because the only thing I care about is fulfilling that unspoken obsecration of hers until she’s ruined for all other men.

Shoving my jeans and boxers down with a growl, I grab her hips and ram myself into her in one, brutal motion.

Her wet heat engulfs me, taking me fully, causing my eyes to roll back into my head as I revel in the sheer euphoria of her, her deep-throated cry of agreement rising up around me.

Christ, she feels amazing!

And if the mere act of being inside her doesn’t already feel like pure rapture, she then decides to up the ante even further.

"Fuck me, Drake," she demands, arching her lower back forward.

A guttural sound rattles my throat as she rolls her hips against me, cranking up the torsion as she pulls me in even deeper.

And I could've lost it then and there.

But somehow — whether through sheer force of will, or by the grace of God — I manage to tamp down the rapidly rising swell in order to heed her command.

Because this isn’t about me. This is about her. And I’m gonna make damn sure that she gets what she wants before I let myself cum inside her.

Even if it kills me.

Opening my eyes, I meet her hazel-green gaze with an affirmative smirk. "Yes, ma'am."

She wraps her legs around me expectantly...

...and I slam us together roughly, loudly, unapologetically.

She gasps beneath me, hands flying to the edge of the counter to grip it like an anchor in a storm, her entire body reverberating with the impact of our collisions.

But I don't stop. I can't. I pound into her like a man possessed... because I am. All semblance of logic, of reason, of God-given sense has evaporated and I devolve into the basest version of myself, one that is driven purely by lust and instinct.

And even though I know I won't be able to hold out, that I'll cave in the face of her rhapsodic screams and the almost painful pressure she’s putting on my dick, I'm powerless to pull the e-brake. If anything, it makes me rev the throttle even harder.

Because she just feels too damn good, and I've been at her mercy from the start.

Lifting my head, I lock eyes with her. And in those lust-blown, hazel-green depths, I see more than just need... more than just passion.

I see complete faith.

And it undoes me.

I explode into her with a ragged, animalistic cry, my body jerking with the force of my deliverance.

"Holy... fuck!"

The long-coveted wave of release crashes over me, wiping away my thoughts and my vision, and I'd be convinced that I passed out were it not for the high-pitched ringing in my ears and the thundering of my heart.

A few more pumps, a shuddered breath as the last swell rises, and I’m left drained, floating.

I stay there, motionless, revelling in that all-too brief moment of calm before the chaos of the world spins back up around me.

Sweet Jesus, that w—

Her warm lips brush against my sweat-streaked forehead, her honey-camomile scent drifting over me like a drunken haze...

I move to lean into her. "Harp—"

...but she's already gone.

The story continues in Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fangirling12566 @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @choicesficwriterscreations

Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits

Insomnia - Dawn - New York - Run - Swim - Drake - Pool

#drake walker #sleepless in new york #world whiskey day #drake walker appreciation #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #drake x mc #harper gale #the royal romance #trr au fanfic

[drake-walker-appreciation]

World Whiskey Day Event

As promised, here is the prompt event for World Whiskey Day! The rules are simple: submit any creative piece (a drabble, a fic, a poem, a mood board, artwork, etc) that focuses on whiskey between now and World Whiskey Day on May 20th, and we will reblog it and add it to the master list that will be posted after the end of the event.

While this event is inspired by, and in honor of, our favorite whiskey-loving marshmallow, your work doesn't have to focus on him. You could write for another choices fandom entirely. If you do, it's encouraged to have him make a cameo or have a character mention him (just for fun). Crossovers and original stories are welcomed as well.

Prompts are provided in hopes of sparking some creativity, but you are not required to use them.

Whiskey Wednesday Meme Credit goes to @bebepac

PROMPTS:

General Theme:

Whiskey and Wine

Whiskey and Roses

Whiskey drinking contest

First drink (of whiskey)

Last drink (of whiskey)

Toasts (with whiskey)

Whiskey soaked memories

More Specific Prompts (but feel free to modify/tweak as needed)

Whiskey-soaked memories, that's what s/he was/is

“Whiskey, neat, and keep ‘em coming,” he/she/I was going to need all the help she/he/I could get to make it through this night.

When there are joys to celebrate or sorrows to drown….

The whiskey burns my throat like her/his absence burns my soul.

That’s great news! Let’s celebrate! I have your favorite whiskey!

Let’s seal the deal over whiskey!

The last time I had Irish whiskey things got….weird

MUSIC: (for inspiration)

Spotify WWD Play List

#drake walker appreciation #world whiskey day #WWD #drake walker #choices #writing prompts #Spotify

[angelasreblogs]

Weekly Update

Since I'm up to running nine blogs this seems needed, if for no other reason than to keep myself organized. All of this information is on my pinned post here. I try to update it on a regular basis. My main account is @angelasscribbles

Current and Upcoming Events:

Word Warriors Live Discussion on Discord: POV Friday July 28th at 12:00 P.M. CST @wordwarriors

Rewrite Challenge Rewrite a scene from a book, movie, or show using your characters. The deadline is July 31st @choicesprompts

Drake's Birthday Celebration August 1st - 12th. @drake-walker-appreciation

Prompt Events Catch Up running for the entire month of August. Hosted by @choicesprompts but includes events from our sister blogs.

POLL OPEN:

Decide Jackson's Fate: in the crown and the shield, should he live or die?

Recently Posted:

Victim of Love Chapter 12 7/2/23

Riley x Liam: A One Night in Cordonia follow up (one-shot) 7/4/23

The Crown and the Shield Chapter 4 7/10/23

The Crown and the Shield Chapter 5 7/11/23

Law's End Chapter 3 7/14/23

Coming Soon:

Sneak Peek Saturday 07.08.23 The Dark Kingdom, an AU.

Tagging under the cut:

@karahalloway @harleybeaumont @nestledonthaveone @alj4890 @aussiegurl1234 @walkerdrakewalker @kingliam2019 @twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14  @tinkie1973 @secretaryunpaid

@queen-arabella-of-cordonia  @kristinamae093 @tessa-liam

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @queenmiarys @emersyn-in-cordonia

 @bascmve01 @twinkle-320 @mattiematt1234

@dcbbw @amandablink @indiacater @bebepac

@lunaseasblog @belencha77  @gabesmommie1130 @jared2612

@hollygirl1269 @mainstreetreader

@ladyangel70 @ohmyeightpastlives  @gardeningourmet

@sillydg @phoenixrising0308

@3pawandme @21-wishes @73geenalove @jennieausten

@princessleac1 @kachrisberry @tornbetween2loves

@fangirling12566  @pinklipsandmasonjars @savannahdix

#angelasscribbles #choicesprompts #choicesholidays #world whiskey day #max's birthday #spring holidays

[alliterative-endlessknot]

What better way to celebrate #WorldWhiskyDay than with our video about the wild history of the Mahattan, that iconic whisky cocktail!

#world whisky day #whisky day #world whiskey day #whiskey day #whisky #whiskey #manhattan #cocktail #etymology #history #words #language #linguistics #word nerd #wordnerd #history of the english language #history of english #historical linguistics #lingcomm #lingblr #video #youtube

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about dream daddy and consent

#random thoughts #dream daddy #okay so like. in how many of the routes do you expicitly sleep with the daddy of your dreams??? #cuz it might just be robert and joseph #and like. in both cases sex IS an integral part of their relationship to the pc #with robert the only way he can have a healthy relationship with the pc is without sex because his relationship with sex is so fucked up #with joseph his relationship with the player revolves around sex. you have to have sex with him at least once during his route #(im pretty sure on that it's been a hot minute since i've played his route. gonna try and not have sex with him after work) #anyway robert's whole character is based around consent and its violation #if you don't like whiskey he acknowledges it and gets you a shot anyway. if you don't like pineapple on your pizza he acknowledges it #but gets you a slice of hawaiian anyway #when he gets you guys bottles of wine from the liquor store and they turn out to be rosé he expects you to judge him for it #meanwhile joseph gets you out on a boat in the ocean with no contact to the outside world. sex with him is rougher than expected #if you have sex with robert he's rough enough to leave you feeling it the next day #seriously can you say no to joseph???

[master-sass-blast]

....okay so Tumblr's gonna crop the pic I put a lot of effort into drawing and coloring and detailing fucking SWEET. Edit: okay so it was just in making the post fucking fabulous thanks for the heart attack Tumblr 🖕

Anywho, I'm a firm believer in Butch Sevika, but then @sevikasleftpussyflap showed me this fanart of Sevika (and Jinx) in an evening gown and I have seen the light.

Gonna throw more close ups under the cut and some rambling about design because I am a fashion and character design nerd!

Also tagging @sxpphicfxiry for what I hope are obvious reasons.

F A C E.

So, while I LOVE the look she's wearing in the fanart I linked above, I wanted to design something that had more call back to her outfit in Arcane -specifically her cape/cloak bc red/maroon is such a gorgeous color on her, and because I thought it'd be a color nod to her original outfit design.

I also changed up her hairstyle because I thought it'd be fun and fitting for presumably what is a formal event.

I also wanted to add some body jewelry -in keeping with the theme from the linked fanart-because I love the contrast of Sevika's overall build and demeanor with the delicate, fragile chains. I went with gold because I thought it'd flatter her skin tone nicely, and because her cloak in the show has gold accents iirc.

I landed on the diamond/rhombus design by accident (which you see in the clasps of the jewelry and the structure of the hair piece and her "rings"). My main goal was having something that looked like a matched set because she deserves something nice -and because I also LIVE for Sugar Baby!Sevika where she has a wealthy Piltover GF to dote on her. If I were to do something like this again, I'd probably try to design something that infers her character more -possibly something gear shaped that would allude to her arm. But, for something I was just trying to whack out quick for my own satisfaction, I'm pleased with the results.

I kept the choker look she has going from Arcane because I think it looks fabulous on her, and the ring piece she's wearing -in my mind-can also function as brass knuckles because I love jewelry that is also functional to the character's role in the story. And also because I think Sevika would like/invest in fancy brass knuckles so that if she has to beat someone up at a ritzy gala, she can.

God I hope that you can click on the picture and it'll show you the whole thing or that the cropping is only in the post creation bc I actually put effort in on the shoes fUCKING DAMMIT.

This is mostly to show detail on the thigh jewelry and also LEG (mady, you're welcome).

All in all, I'm pleased with how this came out! I used markers for most of the piece -the dress, cloak, her body and hair, and the leather bands on the jewelry pieces are all marker. The trim on the dress and cloak, along with the base for the chains are done in colored pencil; I also warmed up her skin with some blended down colored pencil bc the tone of the markers were looking a little gray to my eye. I used a metallic gold gel pen to add some shine to certain parts of the jewelry, but that wasn't flashy enough, so I used some gold acrylic paint and white acrylic paint to add highlights to her jewelry.

I think I need to do this again. I've got an idea for a gear-themed look -in terms of jewelry-that I'd pair a blue dress in bc I think she'd look gorgeous with blue. Also @sevikasleftpussyflap mentioned a look of Sevika wearing a tight, skimpy body con dress and now it lives rent free in my head.

I did this piece over I think about a week? I wanna say it took between 3-5 hours in total.

So yeah pls reblog and interact bc I worked hard on this no I am not above begging thank uuuuuu 😭

#sass speaks #sass draws #sevika #my art #i am honestly so proud of this piece #i think she looks hella good #i have seen the light of glam sevika #like she's still butch in my heart #bUT SHE CAN ROCK A DRESS AND MY WORLD THANK YOU MA'AM #the way i want her to snap my neck with her thighs #she's also holding a glass of whiskey bc i can't see her drinking champagne #i think that'd be her one holdover #she's gotta have some proper hooch #might draw a background on this piece some day #probably not bc i am notorious for not doing backgrounds #but maybe #if something inspires me #also can we talk about sugar baby sevika because she takes care of us but i just want to take care of herrrr #(ignoring the fact i'm broke shhhhh) #i want to give her a life of luxury where she can drink smoke play cards and beat people up as much as she wants without having to work #okay that's enough simping for now sdlfjdslkjfldskjf

[midnight-star-world]

#CountryMusic

Jordan Davis - Bluebird Days

So today on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would like to talk about the latest album from Country Music Singer Jordan Davis. This new album was titled "Bluebird days" and was released on Friday February 17th, 2023. There are 17 tracks on the new album but before we dive into that, let's talk about Jordan's career for a little bit first.

Jordan has scored numbers on the weekly list with songs like "Slow dance in a parking lot", "Singles you up", & "Take it from me". Other hit songs like "Almost maybes", "Cool anymore", & "Detours". But before we dive too far off tracks, let's check out some highlights from the new CD.

Jordan co-wrote 15 out of the 17 tracks also getting help from his twin brother Jacob Davis, Jameson Rodgers, Ryan Hurd & even Josh Thompson. The stand out tracks in my opinion are "No time soon", & a fan favorite track "Part of it". The album already produced some number one songs before coming out with "What my world spins around", "Buy dirt" featuring Luke Bryan & even his newest single "Next thing you know". Other tracks you should check out "Money isn't real", "Sunday saints", & the title track "Bluebird days". Also check out "Short fuse", "Midnight crisis" featuring Danielle Bradbery, & "What I wouldn't do". Let's check out the rest of the track list up next.

Track list.

Damn good time.

Money isn't real.

Tucson too late.

What my world spins around.

Sunday saints.

No time soon.

You've got my number.

Next thing you know.

Fishing spot.

One beer in front of the other.

Bluebird days.

Part of it.

Short fuse.

Whiskey weak.

Midnight crisis (Featuring Danielle Bradbery).

What I wouldn't do.

Buy dirt (Featuring Luke Bryan).

And that's a wrap for the track list. And on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would give this album a 5 out of 5 stars. There are a lot of highlights from this new album. So I felt strongly about the new songs from this project. There are a lot of good songs on this album, and I felt like this album deserve a 5 out of 5 stars. Thanks for taking the time to read this review. See ya all next time.

#Ryan Hurd #Josh Thompson #Jameson Rodgers #Jacob Davis #Luke Bryan #Buy Dirt #What I wouldnt do #Danielle Bradbery #Midnight Crisis #Whiskey weak #Short fuse #Part of it #Bluebird days #One beer in front of the one #Fishing spot #Next thing you know #You've got my number #No time soon #Sunday Saints #What my world spins around #Tucson to late #Money isn't real #Damon good time #detours #Cool anymore #Almost maybes #Take it from me #Singles you up #Slow dance in the parking lot #Midnight Star Review

[anachronistic-falsehood]

i work 40 hours next week someone put me out of my misery

#whiskey yelling into the void #good fucking god. #catch me saying that whole shitty gabbie hanna poem in my head overwhelmed overworked underpaid im on top of the world sitting pretty on a #stack but the static still cracks in my veins 😔✊ #im working a sunday with the new high school employee and i’m v new to being a keyholder so that day might go up in flames #n e wayz. capitalism sucks ass

[doctorfriend79]

🥃  Happy World Whisky Day!  🥃

#World Whiskey Day #Whiskey On The Rocks #Photography

[drake-walker-appreciation]

World Whiskey Day 2023

Master List

Drake and Whiskey by @aussiegurl1234

Whiskey and Women by @angelasscribbles

Cocktail by @dcbbw

Sleepless in New York Ch. 10: Darkfall by @karahalloway

#WWD #WWD 2023 #world whiskey day #drake walker #drake walker appreciation

[rabbitcruiser]

World Whisky Day

Mix up a whisky sour, or pour your favorite whisky over some ice and enjoy. Gather some friends together to try out different brands and  cocktails.

If you’re friends with Jack and Jim and spend your weekends with Jameson and Johnnie, then World Whisky Day is going to hold a special  significance for you.

Whisky is one of the iconic drinks of true lovers of alcohol and is  the foundation of some of the most wonderful drinks known to man. But honestly, who needs an excuse to imbibe in these wonderful libations? If  you need one, World Whisky Day is it!

History of World Whisky Day

One of the most common forms of whisky that is sought after is Irish Whisky, and perhaps appropriately so. The origins of the word Whisky can  be found in the Gaelic Language.

Uisce Beatha was the original name of whiskey in classical Gaelic, which ultimately became Uisce Beatha in Ireland and Uisge Beatha in Scotland. Both of these names mean “Water of Life” and tells us just how  important and vital this particular distillation was to the Gaels.

It was later shortened to just Uisce/Uisge, and then anglicized to Whisky. So now you know, when someone is concerned about your whisky  consumption, you can just tell them you’re drinking the water of life!

So what, exactly, is whisky? Whisky is what happens when you create take rich flavorful grains and ferment them into a mash, and then take  that mash and distil it down into a pure delicious spirit.

Distillation takes place in a still, a device whose whole purpose is  the purification of the alcohol from the fermented mash. One of the most important secrets of distillation is that it must take place in a  copper (Or copper lined) still, as the copper removes the sulfur from  the drink that would make this otherwise diving beverage decidedly unpleasant to drink.

Astonishing facts about whisky

You may enjoy a delicious glass of whisky, but did you know the following…?

Let’s start with a worrying fact, which is that whisky could  have been banned. If it was not because of a medical loophole in the  Prohibition period, this drink would have been banned altogether.  However, because there was a law that enabled doctors to prescribe  whisky as medicine, it survived.

The word whisky actually means ‘water of life.’ this is because it comes from a Gaelic word that reads ‘uisge beathe.’

There  are some expensive bottles of whisky around the world. However, the  most expensive is the Macallan ‘M’ whisky. This Lalique decanter of  whisky was auctioned in Hong Kong for £393,109. The luxury decanter  features six liters of whisky, which was drawn from casks made of  Spanish oak sherry, dating from the ‘40s until the ‘90s.

The  oldest whisky is more than 150-years-old. The Guinness World Record for  the World’s Oldest Whisky currently goes to a bottle of 400ml Glenavon  Special Liqueur Whisky. It was owned by a family from Ireland. However,  it fetched an incredible £14,850 at auction when it was sold to Bonhams  in London. It is believed to have been packaged sometime between the  years of 1851 and 1858.

The spelling of whisky is interesting.  You may have seen it written as whiskey. The version without the ‘e’ is used for Canadian and Scottish whisky. However, for other types of the  drink, you opt for the whiskey spelling.

Last but not least,  whisky starts life as a beer! This is because it is made with wort,  which is a form of beer that gets distilled. In fact, the wort is  created using all of the ingredients that yare enjoyed in a pint of  delicious beer, i.e. malts, yeast, and water.

How To Celebrate World Whisky Day

World Whisky Day reminds us that there is an incredibly broad range of whisky out there to try, and its unlikely that we’ve managed to try all of it. Whisky can be made from barley, corn, rye, and wheat, just to  name a few, and those grains are often mixed in different proportions  before fermenting and distilling.

The results are then aged in casks, with both the cask and the time inside changing the flavor. Needless to say, you may need more than one  day to sample every kind available to you! World Whisky Day is a great  opportunity for you to expand your palette, and share your experiences  with your friends.

Source

#Kentucky Crush Lemonade #Whiskey Gingembre #Jack's Dundee Tea #USA #Canada #Whiskey Ginger Mash #Ginger Whisky Smash #Odd Couple #travel #World Whisky Day #restaurant #WorldWhiskyDay #third Saturday in May #original photography #18 May 2024 #close up #drinking straw #ice cube #lemon #don't drink and drive #cocktail #international day #whiskey #whisky #Lynchburg Lemonade

[alliterative-endlessknot]

What better way to celebrate #WorldWhiskyDay than with our video about the wild history of the Mahattan, that iconic whisky cocktail!

#world whisky day #world whiskey day #whisky day #whiskey day #whisky #whiskey #etymology #history #words #language #linguistics #word nerd #wordnerd #historical linguistics #lingcomm #lingblr #video #youtube #Youtube

[thvndersnow]

TAG DUMP 6 ;;

cloudstrider nimbus, jace law, jesse morgan, and ashe tags

NIMBUS:

nimbus tag ;; each day is suffering so tomorrow can live on

nimbus hc ;; we've gotta hold on to what we've got

nimbus aes ;; the stars look very different today

nimbus ic ;; i’ve heard a rumor from ground control

nimbus ship ;; it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you

--

JACE:

jace tag ;; rage and love; the story of my life

jace hc ;; he promised i would find a little solace and some piece of mind

jace aes ;; not to pull your halo down around your neck

jace ic ;; recall the deeds as if they’re all someone else’s atrocious stories

jace ship ;; i saw forever in my never

--

JESSE:

jesse tag ;; you know what time it is

jesse hc ;; when i hear that trumpet sound i’ll rise right out of the ground

jesse aes ;; tennessee whiskey got me drinkin in heaven

jesse ic ;; i’ll keep this world from draggin me around

jesse ship ;; picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor

--

ASHE:

ashe tag ;; things i’ve never seen before behind bolted doors

ashe hc ;; no hesitation; no heart of gold

ashe aes ;; plastic tubes and pots and pans

ashe ic ;; from my heart and from my hand; why don't people understand my intention?

ashe ship ;; diagrams and charts mending broken hearts

#which i believe is finally all my muses hoorah #tag dump #info ;; from marathon to waterloo in order categorical #nimbus tag ;; each day is suffering so tomorrow can live on #nimbus hc ;; we've gotta hold on to what we've got #nimbus aes ;; the stars look very different today #nimbus ic ;; i’ve heard a rumor from ground control #nimbus ship ;; it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you #jace tag ;; rage and love; the story of my life #jace hc ;; he promised i would find a little solace and some piece of mind #jace aes ;; not to pull your halo down around your neck #jace ic ;; recall the deeds as if they’re all someone else’s atrocious stories #jace ship ;; i saw forever in my never #jesse tag ;; you know what time it is #jesse hc ;; when i hear that trumpet sound i’ll rise right out of the ground #jesse aes ;; tennessee whiskey got me drinkin in heaven #jesse ic ;; i’ll keep this world from draggin me around #jesse ship ;; picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor #ashe tag ;; things i’ve never seen before behind bolted doors #ashe hc ;; no hesitation; no heart of gold #ashe aes ;; plastic tubes and pots and pans #ashe ic ;; from my heart and from my hand; why don't people understand my intention? #ashe ship ;; diagrams and charts mending broken hearts #ooc ;; your enormous eyebags have captivated me

[ohproserpine]

ii. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3

tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, unsettling & obsessive behavior, jealousy, possessiveness, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, unwanted advances (not by alastor), murder, graphic descriptions of injuries

As the days unfolded into weeks, Alastor remained true to his word. A routine soon formed between the two of you: he would make regular visits to the speakeasy, engage in polite conversations with Mimzy, and take his usual seat to enjoy your performance.

In time, Alastor's interactions with you grew more intimate. And one night, following the success of one of your busiest night and biggest show, he surprised you with a beautiful necklace. Pulling you into your dressing room, Alastor asked for permission to formally court you. Without hesitation, you agreed, and in a burst of affection, proceeded to kiss him within an inch of your life. 

Since then, Alastor had begun to take you on dates outside the speakeasy. He whisked you away to quaint diners, lively jazz joints, and even introduced you to his mother—a sweet woman who welcomed you with open arms.

Throughout your time together, not a single one of your performances escaped Alastor'. Why would they? For him, your shows were the very essence of color in his otherwise dull and monotonous existence. His devotion to you almost mirrored religious fervor as he attended each of your shows like an impassioned disciple in the dimly lit speakeasy pews.

Your voice became a spell, luring Alastor like a foolish sailor drawn to a siren's call. In those moments, the world faded away, and he followed the melody with an irresistible pull, captivated by thoughts of you, you, you.

Only you.

Tonight, however, was anything but ordinary.

Alastor, following his usual routine, occupied his customary spot at the pub, savoring his whiskey with slow sips from his glass. However, the comforting rhythm of the night, which he had grown used to, was broken when the band screeched to a halt, the shrill notes of the violin cutting through the air. Immediately, the pub erupted in a chorus of boos and shouts.

Alastor blinked, his smile turning strained as he noticed a man stumble onto the stage. It was clear that he was intoxicated, moving about as gracefully as a headless chicken, as he made his way towards you, nearly knocking you off your feet.

Noticing the commotion, Mimzy clicked her tongue, slammed her drink onto the counter, and swiftly rose to her feet. She rushed to the stage, the glitters on her vibrant dress catching the dim lights of the speakeasy.

“Why, I oughta—" she began to seethe, as she stomped towards the stage, finger wagging in the air. “That’s the fifth time this week, Giovanni!”

"Ah, Mimzy! Jus' wanted to surprise my sweetheart," Giovanni slurred, his thick accent muddled as he clumsily leaned into you, head tucking into your neck.

Snap.

Alastor felt a visceral reaction, something within him snapping as the glass in his hand cracked under the strain of his grip. The fractured crevices dug into his skin, and golden liquor seeped out, mixing with crimson red blood.

As a regular performer at this pub, your popularity was unquestionable, and Alastor was not entirely pleased with the attention you garnered from other men. If given the opportunity, he would have you whisked away from this place. In his eyes, your voice was too lovely for a place like this. Your talent deserved a grander stage than the confines of this tacky establishment.

“Ahah,” you smiled awkwardly, shuffling away and shrugging the man's arms off of you. “Not your sweetheart, Giovanni…”

"Are you not happy to see me, carina?" Giovanni’s voice dropped to a whisper, his hand dropping to grip you by the waist. He leaned his face in closer, and you cringed. The man's breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were a bloodshot red. “Come on~ I came all the way to see you.”

“Ya' can go see and do whatevah the fuck you want with her after the show!” Mimzy scowled, stomping her heels onto the wooden flooring. “Can't have a moment of peace in here. Someone get him off my stage!”

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Giovanni retorted, his anger bubbling over as he lashed out, kicking the microphone stand in Mimzy's direction. She barely dodged in time, the crash of the mic hitting the floor drowned out by the screeching feedback.

"Please. Just go," you pleaded, your patience wearing thin. "Why? Why do you always have to make a scene?"

"Ay, carina, don't get bratty with me. Let's talk in the back," Giovanni insisted, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he attempted to pull you off the stage. But before he could, Mimzy's guards intervened, forcefully yanking him away.

"Hey! Get ya' hands off'a me!"

Turning around, you rushed to get off the stage, but Giovanni somehow managed to break free and extended his hand, trying to grab onto you. Panic welled up within you as his hand reached out, but relief followed when he was abruptly stopped by none other than Alastor.

"Now, now," Alastor's voice had a lilt as he held onto Giovanni's wrist, but the venom woven into each word was unmistakable. His ever-present smile stretched wide, serving as a clear warning. "Causing a commotion isn't the best way to impress a lady."

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wring his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled and adjusted his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wriggle his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"Ha ha! Kind sir, when someone disrupts a delightful performance, it becomes everyone's business," Alastor laughed, the sound of it tinged with sarcasm.

"But I must commend you. My, that impromptu performance of yours was quite remarkable; you truly made a wonderful spectacle of yourself!" Alastor's grin widened, his mocking tone drawing out laughter from the crowd.

Then, Alastor bent down to meet Giovanni face to face, his amusement fading. 

“Though I think you've overstayed your welcome, no?” Alastor's grip tightened around Giovanni's wrist, the pressure leaving bruises in its wake, hues of purple, green, and blue blossoming beneath the skin.

Alastor's grin turned sharp. "You will leave. Now."

"F-Fuck are you gonna do if I don’t, aye?" Giovanni spat, attempting to maintain a façade of bravado despite the pain. He tore his hand away from Alastor's grip, cradling his wrist. "Ya' think you can tell me what to fucking do?!"

"Hmm. I would at least advise you to salvage whatever dignity you have left and leave. If you had even a dust of intelligence in that hollow head of yours, that would have been the first thing you'd have done," Alastor chuckled.

“Damn right. Ya ain't got no fuckin place in my establishment,” Mimzy scowled, snapping her fingers and gesturing towards the men surrounding Giovanni. “Take him away, boys!”

As Mimzy’s goons surrounded him again, Giovanni sneered, "This ain't over."

"Oh, my dear pal, I assure you, it is very much over. The lady has made her wishes very clear," Alastor grinned.

With a final snarl, Giovanni was forcibly led away from the scene, his protests fading into the background as Mimzy's guards escorted him out. Mimzy wasted no time, bustling backstage and barking orders to her staff to clean up and prepare the stage once more.

Alastor's charismatic facade returned as he turned to you, though a glint of irritation lingered in his eyes. "Apologies you had to see that, cher. Let's hope the rest of the evening proceeds much more smoothly."

"I hope so." With a sigh, your gaze shifted downward, and you spotted his injured hands. The glass he had broken earlier had left wounds all over his calloused palms — not deep, but enough to draw blood.

Concern etched across your face, and you gently touched Alastor's hands. The radio host, accustomed to your touch by now, allowed you to inspect the damage.

"You're hurt," you pointed out, caressing his skin.

Alastor met your gaze with a reassuring smile. "Ah, this is just a trifle. A mere inconvenience, I assure you! My, I've endured far worse during hunting, darling! This is hardly worth mentioning."

"But—" you began, only to be interrupted by his finger pushing against your red lips.

"Worry not, cher. I'll take care of it. There's no need to play nurse," he spoke with finality, as if this was a matter not open to further argument.

"Alright," You managed a small smile. "I am really sorry things turned out this way, Al. I didn't know Giovanni was going to show up again. He's always been like that for as long as I can remember. I told him to stop but he never does."

"No need for apologies. None of this fault is on you, darling. Though it does add a touch of excitement to otherwise mundane affairs, doesn't it?" Alastor chuckled heartily, though you sensed there was a bitter undertone to his laugh.

"Excitement? That man is a shitshow just waiting to happen," Mimzy returned and walked up to both of you, rolling her eyes. "And I thought I got rid of him for good..."

Suddenly, she leaned in with cosmetics in hand, deftly swiping lipstick across your lips and delicately brushing blush on your face. "Now come on, dollface, let's get you back to that stage."

You realize you're still on shift, but the thought of performing feels nearly impossible at the moment, especially with all this lingering adrenaline in your system. Admittedly, you're a bit shaken up, and all you want is to curl up by Alastor's side and savor the night with a drink in hand. 

"Oh, Mimzy…I'm not sure I can really perform right now, love. I feel…" you slowly trailed off, faltering under the weight of Mimzy's hardened gaze.

The blonde cooed out your name, her fingers gently wrapping around your arm, soothingly rubbing it up and down. "Dollface, you're not here to question; you're here to perform! Alastor here has been so kind to get rid of your little problem. Now, let's get back up on that stage and do what you're good at."

"Pardon?" Alastor snapped with a raised brow, his usually jovial tone replaced by a sharper edge. "Well, I don't mind in the least. In fact, I rather enjoyed putting that simpleton in his place. I'm sure your patrons can afford to wait, can't they? This poor dear is still shaking in her heels!"

But you intervened, mustering a smile and smoothing down the wrinkles on your dress while nervously tending to your hair. "Oh no, Al, it's alright. Mimzy's right. I can't just let one man ruin my entire night."

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, taking a moment to compose before adding, "Besides, the show must go on, right?"

Alastor paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied your nervous tics. The radio host silently appraised your form for a few more seconds before eventually giving in. "Hmm, very well. If that's what you wish."

"Thank you, Al," you whispered with a smile, tilting your head up to press a kiss against his cheek. Your lipstick had left an imprint on his bronze skin, but he made no move to wipe it off.

With a chuckle, Alastor leaned back into you and returned the gesture warmly. 

"I'll take care of everything, doll," he whispered, voice low, before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "He won't ever bother you again."

Confused, you blinked up at him with those bright eyes he loved so much. "How do you plan to do that, Al?" you asked, but he ignored you, staring at you with that unsettling look in his eyes again.

Alastor suddenly raised your hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with gentle pecks, causing your mind to blank and cheeks to go aflame. 

Tapping her foot impatiently, Mimzy's irritation grew as the display of affection lingered longer than she deemed appropriate. With a swift swat of her hand against the man's shoulder, she hissed at him. "That's enough outta you!"

Alastor smirked to himself and began walking back, seemingly satisfied with the subtle disturbance he had caused. He was such a bastard, but he was yours.

With a shake of your head and a smitten blush gracing your cheeks, you returned to the stage. The blinding spotlight enveloped you as Mimzy tossed the microphone back into your waiting hands. 

Meanwhile, Alastor reclined in his seat at the booth, his gaze fixed intently on you as you resumed your performance. The audience, having brushed off the brief interruption, eagerly redirected their focus to you.

Rabbit, rabbit! Won't you run away? Don't give the farmer all his fun today~ He'll get by without his rabbit pie. So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run!

As you neared the end of the song, Alastor joined the crowd's applause, rhythmically snapping his fingers together.

Wonderful, as always.

.

Snap.

The sudden, jarring sound shattered the stillness of the forest, followed by a shrill scream that seemed to shake the trees. Giovanni's hands instinctively shot down to his ankle, where his bone had twisted in a gruesome sight that sent bile rushing to his throat. However, he had no time to inspect the damages as a rustling bush caught his attention. Desperately, the man began crawling on the ground, doing his best to move farther away, dragging mud and dirt all over his body.

"Don't give the farmer his fun. Fun. Fun," emerging from thick shrubs, Alastor sang lowly as he continued his slow advance, relishing in the fear that emanated from his prey. He raised his hand, fingers idly tracing over the red mark on your lips, and if he focused hard enough, he could still feel the burn of your affections. "He'll get by without his rabbit pie."

The dense forest around them seemed to close in, casting eerie shadows as Alastor's menacing silhouette moved closer. Giovanni, now gasping for breath, cast terrified glances over his shoulder, desperately searching for an escape route.

"So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run," Alastor continued to trail after the man, his axe slung over his strong shoulders, a sinister grin etched on his lips.

Ah, it had been so long since he last pursued larger prey, opting for smaller catches like rabbits and squirrels lately. This, however, was a different kind of pursuit, and the thrill was delicious.

“It's rather unsavory to disrupt a live performance,” Alastor mused, gripping his axe and running his bandaged palm along the side of the blade. "Oh, the misery! Each performance interrupted, a masterpiece marred!"

“Though I suppose you redeemed yourself with your own impromptu circus show,” Alastor snickered, reaching down and seizing Giovanni’s sprained ankle, dragging the screaming man back toward him.

"Good show!" The radio host grinned as he pressed his feet against Giovanni's back to prevent him from escaping. Alastor raised the axe high, the glint of the blade reflecting the crazed gleam in his eyes.

"Now, let's see how this act ends."

With a practiced swing, he brought the blade down, chunks of flesh and blood spraying onto his clothing and skin from the impact. Alastor laughed as the light gradually faded from the man's eyes, his once-struggling arms and legs now falling limp.

“What a show!”

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