Ever see the post of that person who came drunk one night and got really excited to see their cat, and basically kissed them with lipstick on?
Can see Pet Owner!Remmick coming home drunk on an inebriated person’s blood, and kissing Reader’s face with bloody stains from his lips.
This is so cute omg
You hear the door knob turn, the sound of Remmick stumbling in— one step forward, a shuffle next— moaning quietly to himself.
You were resting on the couch, curled under a blanket, a book held in hand and was close to dozing off when he startled you.
Your eyes almost pop of out your skull when you noticed how odd he looks.
“Remmick?” You say softly, making a b-line over to him and patting him down for any injuries he may or may not have sustained.
His clothes are perfectly fine, except for the obvious blood painted at the front. Some caked against his neck, pooling lower and lower until it dips between his collar bone and into his undershirt. Other than that, he looks okay…But the big goofy grin on his face, lips painted red and his teeth sharp as can be is hard to ignore.
“Did I ever tell ya how cute you are?” He grins, cupping your face in both of his big hands.
“Yes…a lot. Are you okay?” You look him over again, noticing his pupils overtaken with red.
“I’m dandy,” He leans forward, “caught me this nice fella— he had a banjo—“ he loses his balance, his weight heavy and impossible to keep held by yourself.
you grunt, groaning and pushing him back on his feet. “R-Remmick, I think your—“
“But now that I’m here, when I look at ya, I have sooooo many thoughts in my head.”
“Remmick, you’re not well. You should sit down—“
“Like, I have these thoughts that you would look so pretty in red.”
“Please, are you drunk—“
“And I think other things. Like your face.”
You tilt your head, curious and maybe a little interested in what he had to say. Fine…you’ll humor him.
“What… about my face?”
He smirks wide, all front sets of shark teeth displayed. “I wanna pet you…or eat you…or both. Shit— I can’t decide which one is more enjoyable.”
“I think you should sit down.” You say once more, giving up and clearly not in the mood for his weird acts of showing affection.
He laughs, tone light and airy. “Wanna pet you while I drain the life from your body.” He leans forward suddenly, kissing your cheek with cold bloody lips, “god— you’re so fucking cute.”
“You just said that?”
He turns your head slightly, placing another kiss to the opposite side of your face. “Wanna drag my tongue down your neck— get you all nice and ready for me,” He kisses your forehead next. “I bet you’ll die so pretty, crying and turning while I chomp a nice big gap—“
“Okay, you’re definitely drunk.” You shake your head.
What’s the remedy for a drunk vampire?
Garlic probably.
