#And so I dump everything that comes to mind into this blog

[satoruhour]

AFTERCARE

a/n: an aftercare collection from da old blog, enjoy! plus also i had an anon asking abt nanami aftercare !!! u read my mind lol / tagging @na-t0, @jabamin who do i tag !!!!!

wc: 2k

warnings: overall fluff, contains nsfw at the start, pet names for all, praise, protected sex, implied breeding, tickle fight (gojo), unprotected sex, creampie/breeding (geto & nanami), implied fwb, cuddling, unprotected sex, creampie/breeding (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

“oh, good girl, that’s it,” gojo mumbles out breathlessly, forehead against yours as you both come together. his lips continue to mutter out praises because he knew how much they affected you, and he hopes that you’d forget all of his saccharine words just so he could make you shiver and whimper all over again. your back arches into his hold one last time, digging your nails into his back.

“you did so well for me — shit — i didn’t think you still had any energy left,” gojo laughs breathlessly at how tired you two were after a mission, yet you know none of you could hold back on each other when passion took over. there’s a slight smile lingering on his face at your sweat-filled forehead and heaving chest and he loves, loves that he’s the only one to make you feel this way. the way moonlight weaves through the window makes you look stunning, and gojo’s smile can’t help but widen.

“what?”

he shrugs, removing his flaccid cock from you and eventually, the condom from himself. he ties a knot quickly, dumping it into the trash beside the bed, but before he can make a move to the bathroom to get you a wet towel, he feels your weight on his arm. it makes his heart flutter and sends shivers down his spine at the thought of doing away with contraception altogether — how would you look with his baby? who’s features would they get? what— 

“satoru.” gojo snaps out of his stupor, observing silently while you moved across the bed to him (hell, you sometimes forget he has a king sized), kneeling so you’d almost be at his height. “why were you smiling at me earlier?”

he eyes you with a levelled stare, grin turning into a smirk, “nah, no, it was nothing, baby.”

“hmm… really?” your arms hang limply over his shoulders, “i feel like i should know, you know.”

gojo simply winks, cutting off the teasing atmosphere with a deep kiss before he takes advantage of the situation, hands flying to your sides and you yelp, loudly. your laughter breaks through the quietness at 1am, making your stomach hurt and body squirmy.

“just planning a tickle attack s’all, princess.”

“y-you— fiend!” you try your best to escape the torture, but gojo is relentless in seeing you suffer, his laughter mixing with yours as his initial agenda is yet again interrupted. “satoru!” you both collapse into the soft sheets, giggles slowly subsiding to broad smiles as you admire the other, and him, you.

“god, you’re beautiful.” gojo’s stare bores into you and you avoid eye contact just like every other time he’s told you that, but your lover made it a point to make it clear to you.

“i love you, my pretty girl.”

✶ GETO

geto doesn’t stop giving you kisses even when he releases in you, helping you through the overstimulation by holding you tight until the euphoric feeling subsides and everything halts. there’s a moment of quietness, save for some concerned questions from your boyfriend like he hadn’t just blown your back out.

“sweetheart? you okay?” his eyebrows knit together, always worried that he might’ve hurt you in any way. but you’re always too tired to answer after, simply settling for a delicate hand to his face and a faint nod.

“kiss me,” it comes out as a whisper and dies out, dazed and still on cloud nine and geto indulges you like the lovestruck lover he is. even if he doesn’t need your palm to guide him, he lets your hand bring him right to your lips where they lay waiting. his kiss is soft, unlike before, moulding against your lips perfectly and like always, it makes you sigh and smile. “how’re your lips always so soft?”

geto smiles, hair falling from his loose hair tie. it shields his face and you think he looks like a greek god. “they just are, darling.”

your boyfriend’s always prepared when it comes to cleaning you up, so he usually has towels draped across the bedside table’s railing. wetting it with some water, he warns you gently with the free hand that strokes your thigh.

“but i also sorta use the lip balm gojo uses.” he cheekily admits, hand still diligently wiping at your core. he makes sure to cover it one, twice, thrice, before turning around to stand up. “i can buy it and we’ll share it instead.”

from here, his eyes skim over how the sheets cover you, and how your pose is provocative yet guarded — like an unnamed muse in a romanticism painting. there’s a teasing tone in your smile, a slow and languid drag to your movements. your dramatic gasp cuts off his thoughts, and your acting falls apart when you see geto’s jaw dropping in faux shock, “so you’ve been indirectly kissing your best friend this whole time? how dare you, suguru?”

geto slaps you lightly with the towel, laughing, “you’re crazy.”

“and that’s why you love me.”

he simply rolls his eyes, crawling back onto the bed to come face to face with you, the you who’s still feeling a bit playful, the you who grins at him and thinks that you like your suguru unkempt and messy and drunk in love with you.

the kiss tastes a bit like cigarettes, a little less prominent than earlier, but it tastes like him, nevertheless. “yeah, yeah. although, you’re the only one i’d wanna kiss — no one else, but you.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami groans into your neck with a final thrust, skin feeling the way your body shivered and trembled at how his cock twitches in you. he pumps you full, drinking in the moans of his name and he stays sheathed in you, face buried in your neck like none other. you realise it’s his favourite position — to stay close to you, to feel your pulse, to hear the almost inaudible sounds.

“you’re perfect, fuck,” nanami says, breathless, body propped up with his elbows by your ears; and of course you’ve heard your lover swear — at gojo, at some stubborn curse, at the terrible dishwasher in your home in kuantan and at you, sometimes, but never said like this. nanami looks at you like you’ve the breeze of the beach and the sunset that dips below the horizon.

you had the privilege of seeing that everyday, yet nanami choses to look at you each time, even if you’re always fixated on the scene. today you get the chance to see the love he has stored for you within his irises, and before you can retaliate, you feel his lips on you. nanami moans into the kiss, the need to feel you again taking over him as he deepens it, kissing down your jaw and neck and chest until you remember the abandoned pancake batter you were mixing.

“kento, honey,” he hums into your chest, acting like a child dreading school. “we can’t leave the batter out in the open.”

nanami grunts, “just leave it. i’ll cook eggs and have some kaya on toast or something later.”

“but that’s exactly why we decided to cook pancakes!” you laugh softly, hands running through his blonde hair. it’s starting to whiten a bit, too, but you don’t mind. if anything, he makes getting old look good, “to have a change from our normal breakfast.”

nanami sighs, blinking tiredly at you as he lifts his head to look at you, and every time he fails to resist your expression. you’re not even doing anything, sitting there looking pretty and your husband simply can’t fathom the action of saying ‘no’. he doesn’t want to move from his place — because your profile against the endless stretch of the ocean is a vision he never thought would come true.

nanami gives in, like he always does.

“fine, you win.”

you cheer with a big grin that escalates into giggles as nanami sweeps you off the sheets, placing a kiss against your temple. he smiles at you, at the possibility of living here until he dies; and if that possibility is compromised, he’d fight to make it okay again. he would bring them to hell himself if he could.

nanami kento never liked killing curses, but for you, he would spill blood again just to keep you safe.

✶ TOJI

toji never gave up the chance to fuck you stupid, always propped up in some dingy motel while the money from his sorcerer missions are left on the bedside table. he has yet to splurge it, the need to gamble getting less and less the more and more he sees you. he grunts into your hair behind as your hands make a mess of the vanity table — both too needy today to use the bed — one hand under your leg and the other on your waist as he spills into you.

“that’s a good girl,” your pupils are blown wide at the unexpected orgasm as his cum spurts into you, hitting you like a truck that you’re begging for toji to slow down until he pulls out and his cum drips to the floor. but you notice he doesn’t scoop it up and tease you like always, he doesn’t tell his little insults while slipping on his pants, nor does he avoid aftercare like the lazy and non-chivalrous man he was — no, you notice the silent movements of toji. he was never this quiet, surprising you even more when he sits on the bed.

“what the hell are you starin’ at?” his eyes are locked on the floor, the distance from your to the bed a few mere steps yet it felt like crossing the globe.

you swallow. after all, he was still a large, bulking man, and while his gruff voice did wonders, it always made you a little terrified out of sex. “oh— uhm, nothing.” with another sigh from him, your curiosity gets the better of you, inching towards him with cautious steps. “toji-san?”

his hands are hesitant to reach out towards you, but they make haste to grip onto your waist and although they’re nothing like the rough ones earlier, you still get a flutter in your heart at how big his hands seem to be. they wrap around your waist before his head falls onto your stomach. too scared to ask, you just settle for playing with his hair, content with the warmness of the embrace.

“you’re making me confused.”

frowning, you raise his head from his safe place, “how so?”

you’re careful, because you know about toji’s past through rumours, you know about his hesitancy to show vulnerability. you’re holding his heart, and you’re hoping the words you mutter out don’t shatter and make him bleed again. toji grunts, yanking you down to sit beside him before staring into space as the night winds down. you can both hear the rooms quietening down and the world going to sleep.

“i don’t like this.”

and your heart breaks, because of how toji hates love and how every experience has never ended positively. we fuck and i leave, got it? if you tell me you like me or something, i’m breaking this off. so you lean forward to hold his cheek, offering a small smile. ironic that he’s told you that and yet he feels like he’s the one who broke his own rule.

“it’s okay if you don’t, i’ll be here no matter how you’re feeling; i won’t even say a word.”

toji curls his lip in disgust, but you know he doesn’t mean it when he grabs your hand, “that line was cheesy. i fuckin’ hate it.”

“it was good, i liked it.”

he only shakes his head with a sigh and lies down along with a gesture that says are you coming or what? before your smile is uncontainable and you’re moving to his side. even if you’ve only known what his body feels against you, you’re already hoping it’d happen again and toji reluctantly feels the same, wrapping an arm around your waist with lips to your hair. your heart soars when he doesn’t move away from your hand interlacing with his.

“not a word.”

you giggle at his tone, and the harshness of it. and if you read in between the lines, you’d see that there’s a bit of endearment in him, you just hoped you had the rest of your life to make him love love again.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro fluff #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #geto fluff #gojo fluff #geto x you #toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #geto suguru fluff #nanami kento jjk #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru #jjk drabbles #jjk scenarios

[flightlessangelwings]

Never Let You Go

Joel Miller x fem!reader (no use of y/n) Word count- 3.2k Warnings- smut (18+ ONLY!), fight/argument, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, making up, love confessions, feelings, light dirty talk and praise kink, unprotected sex, set in the Jackson part of the show/game Notes- Inspired by a thought from discord that I just had to write into a full fic! And added a little romantic smut too cause gotta have that happy ending after that angst lol! The angst was very cathartic for me tow rite since I’ve been going through it lately too lol. Enjoy! Taglists are closed. To stay up to date on when I post, feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

Jackson was like a dream. After living in the QZ for so long and then making the dangerous trip across the country with Joel and Ellie, it felt surreal that there was a settlement of people living so peacefully. Laughter rang everywhere you went, and the kindness was a welcome change of pace. Not to mention a clean house, a warm meal and a hot shower felt like heaven on earth.

But the feeling of paradise didn’t last long when Joel came up to you with a serious look on his face. “Hey,” his tone was low and he held a calmness in his eyes.

Your face dropped, “What is it, Joel?”

“We gotta talk,” he sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Something wrong?” you asked as your nerves tingled under your skin. You knew by the look on Joel’s face that something was in his mind, and it scared you to wonder what was going through his head. After traveling across the country with him and Ellie, you liked to think you knew him well… and you held a secret longing in your heart for him. But right now, a chill ran through your veins and you had no idea what was coming next. 

“Now that we’re here, I think you should stay.” Joel sounded cold as he spoke. As much as he hated to break your heart like this, he told himself that this was for the best. This was the best way to keep you safe and out of danger. He had too many close calls on the road, and the thought of losing you was too much for him to bear. It was a stab in the heart to see that look on your face and the tears in your eyes, but if it kept you safe, Joel would find a way to manage. 

“What?” you snapped in a burst of emotions, “Stay?”

“Yeah,” Joel huffed as he hid his true feelings under the anger that suddenly exploded between you, “This place has everything you need. You can build a new life here. You’ll be happy. Trust me, this is the best for you.“

“Don’t make my decision for me, Joel. You should know me better than to do that.” The rage bubbled to the surface as tears filled your eyes and you stared at him, “Why?” was the first question that popped into your head after several moments of tense silence.

“Because,” Joel’s tone turned more sour as he sounded harsher than he meant to, “You’re better off here. It’s best this way.” 

From behind you, Ellie’s face appeared in the shadows. She watched with wide eyes as the two of you went back and forth, but she decided to stay silent. You didn’t even know she was there, but Joel caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye.

“So after everything we’ve been through, you’re just dumping me off here? Don’t I mean anything to you?” There it was: the hurt under all the animosity. And it was palpable as your voice broke. 

Joel’s jaw clenched but he stayed silent.

And that only made you angrier, “What is this, you think I can’t handle myself out there? That I’m a fucking liability or something? Is that it, Joel? I’m not a damsel in distress you know!”

“It’s not…” He couldn’t keep up the facade anymore as you broke down in front of him. Suddenly, Joel regretted ever bringing it up in the first place. 

“Save it,” you spat as you turned to leave, “Fine. Have it your way. Good luck with everything,” your tone was harsh and low as you walked out the door and slammed it behind you.

Joel watched you leave with tears in his eyes, but he stayed frozen in place. His heart pounded in his chest as all the unspoken words ate him up inside. He wanted to tell you the truth of why he wanted you to stay in Jackson. He wanted to tell you exactly how he felt, But he couldn’t risk that. Not when he’d already lost so much.

“Joel!” Ellie’s voice rang from where he hid in the shadows, “What the fuck are you doing? Go after her!” She ran up and tugged at his arm.

“Ellie it ain’t that simple,” Joel signed as he turned and walked towards the bedroom, “She’s too angry right now anyway…” …And I blew it…

“Joel…”

“Ellie!” Joel snapped back louder than he meant to. When he saw Ellie’s wide eyes, he took a deep breath and continued in a softer tone, “Enough,” he sounded exasperated as he closed the door to the bedroom, leaving Ellie alone in the flurry of emotions that both of you left behind. Behind closed doors, Joel buried his head in his hands as his own tears soaked his skin.

Fuck…

*

The cold air nipped at your skin as you sat outside in the snow. You walked around Jackson aimlessly for hours until your legs screamed at you to rest. So, you stopped somewhere in the outskirts of the town and sat on a log. The spot you picked was up on a hill, and it gave you the perfect view of Jackson.

You watched all the people in the distance as you stayed in your solitude. A fresh layer of snow made the ground glisten and your eyes traced the footsteps that the people left behind. Chatter echoed from the crowd that gathered in the middle of town, and you watched with a solemn expression as families gathered together.

Couples nuzzled together in front of the glittering lights. Lovers brought their partners mugs of warm drinks to share together. Families laughed together like the world hadn’t fallen apart around them. For the first time in a long time, you saw so many smiling faces. Instead of it bringing you comfort, though, it only brought you sadness.

A sharp shiver escaped your lips as a chill ran up your skin. Goosebumps erupted on your arms under the thin coat you wore, and you wished you had grabbed something thicker before you stormed out on Joel. Your teeth chattered as you sat alone in the cold…

But, that chill suddenly vanished when you felt a new layer of warmth across your shoulders and back. You gasped as you turned around and saw Joel next to you as he slung his warm jacket over your shoulders. He held a melancholy look in his eyes as he sat down next to you without a word.

“Joel…” you snarled. When he just looked forward, watching the crowd that had captivated you to the point where you didn’t hear him walk up behind you, you softened, “Thank you.”

He sighed your name, “You’re welcome.”

You stared at Joel for several long moments, studying his features. Scars littered his face, but they only made him more handsome to you. The sharp angle of his nose and the softness in his eyes captivated you from the moment you met. When he exhaled, your eyes landed on his lips, and you wondered what it was like to kiss them. 

And as furious as you were at Joel for what he said earlier, you couldn’t help but feel calm and safe with him just sitting beside you in this comfortable silence. There was just something about him that you couldn’t pull away from even if you wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” Joel broke the silence with a confession that caught you off guard. 

This time it was your turn to stay silent as he turned and faced you. The look on his face made your heart skip a beat, and the sorrow in his eyes made you want to pull him close and hold him tight. But, you could also tell he had more to say, so you let him continue.

“I don’t think you can’t handle yourself. And you ain’t a liability. It ain't nothing like that at all,” Joel spoke in a soft tone but one that still held all the emotions he kept buried, “The truth is…” he sighed as his gaze dropped to the ground, “I was afraid.”

“You? Afraid?” you scoffed, “Joel you’re the toughest man I know. I’ve seen you take on a clicker with just a rusty shiv. You protected me and Ellie all this time. So what…?”

“I love you,” Joel interrupted you with another confession that took you by surprise.

“What?” Your voice was hushed as you gasped.

Joel sighed as he buried his face in his hands for a moment before he turned to you again, “The reason I’m afraid, baby… Is because I fucking love you. The thought of losing you is just…” he sobbed softly, “Fuck, I can’t even bare it if anything happened to you. You and Ellie… You’re everything to me now.”

“Joel,” you breathed as you scooted yourself closer and cupped his face, “Call me that again.”

A flash of a grin lit up his face, “Baby…” 

You looked deep into his eyes, and the mistiness you saw there brought on tears of your own. You rubbed your thumbs across his beard a few times before you crashed your lips to his. Joel let out a muffled groan, but quickly reciprocated the kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in even closer as he deepened the kiss.

Even in the cold, a warmth spread between your bodies as you held each other tightly. Your hands grasped at his jaw as you tasted Joel on your tongue. You moaned softly into his mouth, and it only spurred him on more as he ran his hands up and down your back. Between the warmth of his jacket and the explosion of emotions between you both, the icy fingers of the winter air melted away.

When you broke away for air, you rested your forehead against Joel’s, “I love you too, Joel. I have for a long fucking time.” You were quiet again as you just stared into his eyes, “From now on, we work together, ok? Don’t push me away.”

“Yes ma’am,” the smile that lit up Joel’s face made your heart flutter and the way he squeezed your waist sent a pulse through your body that went right to your core. “How about you and I get out of here then,” Joel’s low tone made you whimper with need and suddenly a new feeling took over your body and your mind.

“Let’s go,” you murmured in a matching tone.

Joel stood, taking you with him, and he never let you go on the walk back to the house that Tommy and Maria set you all up in. When you crossed the door, Joel shrugged his jacket off of you and called out into the house, “Ellie?”

When it was silent, you made your way into the living room where a note sat on the table, “Joel,” you called out to him as you read the note, “Ellie went to the movies with the other kids in town. We have the place to ourselves for a while.”

Joel came up behind you and snaked his arms around you, pulling you close as he groaned in your ear, “Good,” he bucked his hips against your body, “Cause I’d hate to have to keep you quiet after finally having you to myself, baby.”

“Joel…” you moaned as you turned around and faced him, “Who knew you had such a mouth on you,” you quipped back before he took your lips with his in another deep, heated kiss.

“I’ve thought about this for so long, baby,” Joel purred as he led you through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, “You have no idea how long I wanted to hold you and never let you go.”

“Then hold me and never let me go, Joel.” 

He let out a single soft laugh, “Yes ma’am,” he repeated himself in a softer tone as he kissed you again.

As much as he wanted to take his time with you, the need was also too great to take it slow. In what felt like a flash, you both had stumbled your way into the bedroom, kissing each other and ripping clothes off as you went. You didn’t even notice the bed until your legs hit the edge and you tumbled backwards and landed on your back with Joel on top of you. Both of you let out loud huffs as the air was forced out of your lungs but you immediately broke out into laughter.

“Now I’m extra glad I got to have a shower,” you joked.

“Doesn't matter to me, baby,” Joel groaned, “I’d still have you either way. I ain’t scared of a little dirt and sweat.”

“Joel,” you playfully slapped his shoulder before your laughter dissipated and you admired every inch of skin that was now exposed to you. Your mouth dropped open as you couldn’t help but gawk at Joel naked on top of you, “Wow…” you breathed in awe.

He dropped his head and let the tufts of hair hide his face as he took the opportunity to admire you as well, “Fuck baby you’re so beautiful.”

Before you could retort, Joel took your lips with his once more, but this time the kiss was slow and deep. His hips rocked against yours as his tongue danced in the same rhythm. Joel’s hardened cock dragged along your wet folds as he swallowed the moans you let out from his actions.

“Baby, as much as I wanna take my time with you, I don’t think I can right now,” Joel pleaded.

“Then fuck me, Joel,” you moaned, “I don’t care… I need you too bad.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he nudged his cock at your entrance, “I swear baby, next time I’m gonna take my time with you,” Joel moaned as he slowly pushed the tip past your first ring of muscle, “I’m gonna spend hours between your legs before I fuck you. Then I’m gonna fuck you til the sun comes up.”

“Oh fuck… Joel…” your mind swam as he pushed himself inside you inch by inch while whispering sweet praises in your ear. Between his cock stretching you out and the way he spoke, you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“You alright, baby?” Joel cupped the side of your face as he continued to slowly sheath himself inside you.

“Yes,” you replied  immediately, “Please Joel… Keep going…”

“Shit baby…”

Joel covered your body with his own and buried his face in the crook of your neck as his hips met yours. Both of you moaned loudly as your bodies connected and he buried his cock completely inside you. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and dug your nails into his back.

“Move Joel… Please…”

Unable to deny you, Joel groaned your name as he rocked his hips back and snapped them forward, slamming his cock deep inside you. Both of you cried out in harmony as he thrust his hips again and again in a steady rhythm. You threw your head back as tears filled the corners of your eyes. To you and Joel, the entire world melted away and all that was left was each other as he filled you over and over again.

“Fuck… Joel… I’m gonna…” you moaned as you clung to him tighter.

“Fuck baby… Me too…”

Joel sped up his thrusts as you both chased your climaxes. And between the heat of the moment and the high emotions, it didn’t take long for you both to fall apart. You and Joel clawed at each other as you came one right after the other. Moans and cries and incoherent praises echoed between you two as you rode out your climaxes together. Even in the cold, sweat lined your bodies as you both trembled from the weight of your orgasms until you both completely collapsed. 

You held Joel close as he let himself flop on top of you, his cock still buried inside you. Neither of you wanted to move even if you could, and you placed soft kisses along his hairline. You felt Joel mirror your action as he kissed along your shoulder and whenever he could reach. Heavy breaths were the only sound in the room as you both recovered your strength. 

With a groan, Joel eventually pushed himself up and pulled out of you before he collapsed next to you. Immediately, you nuzzled yourself into his open arms and rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you closed your eyes contently. The beat of Joel’s heat reminded you that he was still there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. And the feeling of you in his arms told Joel that you were here, and you weren’t going anywhere. Together, you stayed happy in the other’s arms.

And sleep would have taken you over if it weren’t for the sound of the front door opening and Ellie calling both your names.

“Anyone here?” she called into the quiet house.

“Upstairs, Ellie… But don’t come up here,” you called out to her with a giggle.

Even without seeing her, you knew that Ellie rolled her eyes at you, “Ok gross!” she couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t go traumatizing children here!”

“Ellie!” Joel chastised.

She stomped up the stairs as loudly as possible, “I am here!” Ellie enunciated every word with a stomp, “Just going to my room,” she hollered as she reached the door and slammed it shut behind her, “I gotta find earmuffs or something,” she muttered to herself. Truly though, Ellie was happy the two of you made up, “It’s about fucking time.” If she had anyone to bet with, Ellie would have wagered how long it would take you and Joel to finally realize your feelings for the other. 

Your eyes never left Joel’s face as the two of you listened to Ellie’s dramatic display. You couldn’t help but smile brightly as he rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. But, when he felt you staring, he turned and met your gaze.

“What is it?” Joel asked.

“Nothing,” you sighed dreamily, “It’s just… This is nice,” you gestured to the room, “It feels right, you know?”

Joel let out a short laugh as he gave you a squeeze, “It does…” 

“Promise me it’ll be like this after we’re done,” you said, “The three of us together like this…” …like family.

Joel leaned forward and placed a long kiss on your forehead, “I promise baby,” his low tone made your heart skip a beat, “I ain’t coming back without both of you.” 

You closed your eyes contently as you leaned into his embrace. Neither of you spoke the words that were on the tip of your tongues, but you both knew from the way you held the other what was left unsaid. 

“Let’s get some sleep,” Joel muttered as he made himself comfortable and pulled you in so that your head rested on his shoulder and his arms stayed securely wrapped around you. 

And Joel looked forward to the days that would end like this: with the ones he loved safe under the same roof. For Joel, that was paradise and worth fighting for. 

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[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 9

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Family drama (past), revelations, family estrangement, the truth will always come out. Summary: The revelation of your grandfather's identity is not the only secret that will unfurl itself into your life. Notes: This week has just been another shitshow of utter chaos, but it is LOVELY chaos, so I hope you enjoy the chapter my darlings! As always, sorry for any errors I miss. I’m just an exhausted little nerd doing my best 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

"How are you here?" And, more over, how are you real? But one thing at a time. The fuzzy edges of the memory that washed up on the shores of your dreams are still nudging at your waking mind.

He sighs sadly, his eyes shuttering slightly as he reflects on what has brought him back to you. “It was only because of your abuela’s sacrifice, muñequita. It was the only way to lift the spell. She loved you more than anything else on this earth.”

"I don't understand." Whether it's the fog of waking up so suddenly or the confusion of memories and dreams and daydreams all slamming together in your mind, you can't quite tell.

“I am your grandfather.” He tells you with a charming grin. “Some call me ‘The Thief’, since it has been years since anyone but the people in this house have known my name. But you always called me ‘Yayo’.” He bows slightly as he tells you his real name.

“Holy shit.” Max hisses, his eyes wide as he stares at his sire. The pieces are clicking into place, but even he is shocked at how close you really are to the man who had created him, who had saved him when he had been destroyed. How was it possible? A vampire cannot have children, at least that’s what he’s been told.

"But...I made you up." That's the rational half of your brain. The part of you that knows dreams aren't real, that fantasies can't come true through manifestation alone, and that love is a feeling rather than a universal force. But the other half of you? The witch who was born of witches who once conjured fire with nothing more than a thought and bare hands? That part of you knows he's telling the truth. "Didn't I?"

Again, another sigh. A habit he had picked up from his late soulmate. The human-ifcation as she liked to call it. “No. When your mother took you away, banned us from seeing you, the only way I could visit was through your dreams. Apparently the spell she cast had also made you forget about myself and your grandmother.”

Max is tense beside you and you cover his hand with one of yours, squeezing it as if it might reassure him that everything is okay. You can feel that intrinsically even if the logic for how you know that escapes you. "I think..." Like a rapid-fire collage on the inside of your mind, flashing of visits with your grandparents burn to life as very real memories instead of gauzy wisps of dreams. "I—um—" Looking between the two men, realizing that you're in bed and in your pajamas, you look back to Yayo with wide eyes. "You're not a witch, are you?" You ask, needing confirmation more than you actually need to be told. The memories are there in your mind, but they aren't clear.

Chuckling quietly, he shakes his head. “No witch.” He promises, letting his razor-sharp fangs descend from his gums to show off his true nature. “A vampire who was soulmates with a witch, just as my protégé.” His eyes shift to Max. “Now you understand why you were brought back.”

The next puzzle piece clicks into place in your mind and you gasp, looking over to Max with wide eyes. "Are you— I mean— did he?—" You sputter inelegantly, running out of breath all at once as you try to stutter out a coherent question. " Your sire is my...grandfather?"

“I didn’t know.” Max shakes his head in awe, apparently nearly speechless considering he knows that this vampire is older than any other that he knows.

"There is much to say." Yayo's eyes move between you on the bed, coming back to you after a few seconds and holding your gaze. Not in an entrancing way, but with the soft eyes of a doting grandfather. "We can talk anywhere you like, muñequita. But when you were a little girl you were very grouchy before breakfast."

"I should at least get dressed, I guess." For the second morning in a row, you are starting out disoriented and with an unexpected visitor. But this time you're not afraid. Curious? Oh yes. But there is none of that deep, intrinsic fear that there was yesterday.

“Then I shall meet you in the dining room.” Yayo bows and turns to disappear through the door like a ghost, completely silent as he moves.

It's icy cold around you when he sweeps out of the room without a sound, and you turn to Max in wide-eyed confusion. "Um..." you huff, shaking your head. You want to ask how he had possibly gotten in the house, but that seems like a moot point by now. "Good morning?"

“It seems like there is a lot going on.” He snorts slightly, reaching out to you to stroke your arms lightly. “How are you feeling?”

"Weird." The sense of safety that you have with Max is absolute, and you nearly collapse into his side to beg silently for more of his comforting touch. "I dreamt about him again last night. And it was a dream. But it felt so real..."

“I don’t think it was a dream, Queenie.” Max murmurs softly. “I think your grandfather made you relive a memory. He was here, all night.”

"He was here?" When your head pops up again you want to harrumph about having two vampires sit around watching you sleep, but as soon as you think it you think again about how safe that is. And how no one else in the world would probably feel as safe around creatures who drink blood to survive as you do. "Max?" Your head tilts slightly and you find his eyes. "Have you ever known your sire to lie?"

“Never lie.” Max tells you. “Sometimes he doesn’t tell you everything. He’s…enigmatic, but not a liar.”

"I remember my parents fighting," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Max's shoulder before you push back the blankets to crawl out of bed and find some clean clothes. You're doubly glad that you took a bath last night. It had helped you relax and be sleepy for bed, but now it takes away the need to wash this morning. "That's what I dreamt about. My parents fighting with my grandparents." Right before you disappear around the corner into your dressing room, you turn to look at him with sadness in your eyes. "About me."

“Families sometimes don’t agree.” Max can understand that you are hurt by that. Zipping over to you to wrap his arms around you. “But you can find out why now. And….” He bites his lip. “You have family still.”

"One person." Though you nod against his chest, knowing that he's right as you hug him back. "It was too much to let me know both of them, I guess."

“He said something about a sacrifice.” Max doesn’t want to cloud your opinion before you talk to his sire. “I know that it was Cookie’s choice to stop taking his blood. He did not agree, but he could not stop her.”

"Allison said Cookie...abuela was trying to break some kind of spell. They were working together trying to combine their magic to make it happen but they couldn't." Realizing that you were technically brought here under false pretenses is odd, but you can't find it in yourself to be upset about it. Apparently, this situation is far more complicated than you knew.

“Then we should hear the unfiltered story from his mouth.” Max encourages, giving you a small smile as he reels from the developments of the morning.

"I guess that is what breakfast will be for." Looking at your closet, you look back to Max with determination. "You said your sire was a big deal in the vampire world, right? I should...try to dress up? Dress respectfully?"

“Dress in whatever makes you feel good.” He arches a brow. “This is your grandfather, important vampire or not. Your imaginary friend isn’t so imaginary anymore.”

"What's your favourite color?" It seems like a silly question, but in the face of so much chaos you're looking for an anchor. Something solid to hold onto in the storm. And if that thing is as simple as wearing your soulmate's favorite color, then that's what you're going to do.

Max smirks slightly as he leans against the door frame. “Blood red.” He teases for a second before he shakes his head. “No— actually, yellow is my favorite color.”

"Okay." Yellow...you have a few yellow things somewhere...you can definitely find something, at least. For now you reach up to hug Max as tightly as you can and exhale an unsteady breath. "I'm just going to get dressed and then I'll meet you downstairs?

“Of course, sweetheart.” Max understands that you might need a few moments to yourself. He nods and then disappears out of the doorway to dress himself and go down to the dining room.

The photograph of you and your mother that stares back from your vanity mirror is a tantalizing route back to those memories that still escape you. You find yourself staring at it for longer than you should, tracing the curve of your mother's face and seeing the way that Yayo's curls somehow had ended up on her head. How had you never noticed? Or were those curls just something you found so comforting that it simply hadn't occurred to you not to give them to your imaginary friend? But he isn't imaginary at all. He's so very real. And he is your family.

Sighing, you dig into your dresser until you come out with an amber colored cable knit sweater and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. The comfortable ones that Derek hated because he said they weren't putting your best foot forward. Fuck that. You've always loved these pants. If comfort is a way to take back power, you are absolutely here for it.

Max is dressed in a flash, downstairs and waiting for you. His eyes fixed on the stairs as he tries not to ask his sire any questions that you might wish to know the answer to while he waits.

As quickly as you can, you head downstairs, only to find both men standing at the bottom of the grand staircase instead of sitting in the dining room as you expected them. "Waiting for me?" You ask, knowing the answer but feeling unduly self-conscious about it all of a sudden.

"I would wait to eternity for you muñequita." He promises, soft affection glowing as he steps forward and offers you his arm. While he understands the modern customs and traditions, he still prefers his way of being. Set in his ways about some things, and the opportunity to touch you is still a delightful experience. "Your breakfast is nearly ready, and I believe the tea service is already on the table."

“Mrs. Taylor is wonderful.” And you’ll never downplay that, especially not now that you realize your housekeeper has been his housekeeper for a very long time. Taking his arm instead of Max’s feels strange only in that you aren’t used to Yayo being solid. In all the thoughts you have of him, he is a figment of your imagination and not much more. Realizing that there is more at stake here is a lot to process.

“She is.” He won’t deny that in the least. “She took care of your mother when she was a child as well.” Since she had been with them for so long, Mrs. Taylor had known the entire history of the family.

“Mom…grew up here?” It’s only a few steps into the dining room, and Yayo pulls out your chair for you before sitting down on your right. Max takes the seat on your left and you note quietly that there are only three places set. Allison and Eddie must have gone back to Allison’s house last night after their date.

Settling beside you, his eyes are focused on you. “This house was built in 1852.” He explains. “When I found out that your grandmother was pregnant with your mother. She gave birth to her in this house.”

“What?” The math doesn’t add up. Not at all. The woman you remember — the woman you have photos of — was maybe in her mid-30s at the oldest. “Mom was…over a hundred and fifty years old?”

“Yes.” He knows it’s nearly impossible to imagine, but it’s true. “Your mother was half vampire, half witch and like me, nearly did not age.”

“Will you…” you sigh softly, and pour yourself a cup of tea with shaky hands. “Will you start at the beginning, Yayo? Please?”

Again, there is a carafe of blood, and he pours himself and Max a cup before he pick up the elegant tea cup and smiles slightly, remembering how he had bought this set for his Cookie. “When I was a young man, I was a thief.” He tells you, wanting you to understand the background of your family line. “The best. I was never caught save for one time.” He flashes a grin. “When I stole from the Devil.”

The Devil. For the moment — and for as unbelievable as the rest of the story seems to already be — you suspend your disbelief and nod. “How long ago was this?” You ask, trying politely to get a handle on exactly how old Yayo is.

"201 B.C." He answers with a small smirk. "I am quite a bit older than most would guess." Even Max's eyes widen dramatically, unaware that his sire was such an ancient vampire. "As punishment for my sin, the Devil decided to make an example of me." He takes a sip of his blood and pauses dramatically. "I was the first of our kind. The undead. The first vampire to walk the earth."

When you glance at Max it’s very clear that your soulmate fully believes the story that is being told, and you would never take Max for easily misled. More over, he knows a hell of a lot more about vampires than you do. So you sip your tea in contemplative silence for a long moment before sitting back in your chair again. “And you met Ms. Brown—Cookie—that is…abuela…in the 18th century?” The timeline here is mind boggling, but you’re trying your best here. To understand it all. To believe it.

“Part of my punishment was that I would walk without my soulmate for over a thousand years.” He snorts elegantly. “Apparently a few hundred extra years is no matter to the Devil.”

“And abuela was born a witch?” The genetic differences between witches and humans had dwindled over time to become very subtle. The powers they manifested were less powerful, too, and you regret now that you never listened more deeply to your father when he tried to tell you about your ancestors. Your mother’s intense desire to live a human life had overruled that sort of talk as you got older.

“Yes.” The proud gleam to the ancient vampire’s eyes reappears and he caresses the edge of the teacup. “Cookie was formidable. A powerful witch. When we met, she had come to the colonies because her own coven had cast her out. Scared of the power she possessed.”

“She was remarkable.” Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway from the pantry with a plate of fixed breakfast for you, as the only warm blooded person at the table, and a bowl each of fruit and raw nuts for the vampires to pick at with their blood. “Good morning, sir. I am glad to see you have decided to leave the tower.”

“So that’s where you’ve been camped out.” Max snorts, smirking at his sire. “Dramatic as always.”

“Is that why Renee looked like she’d seen a ghost when I asked her about the locked room?” You thank Mrs. Taylor softly, as always, and inhale the beautiful scent of the last pieces of quiche from yesterday — one of your favourite leftovers that you had begged her to save — alongside a fresh salad, a few slices of bacon, and a warm croissant. She has outdone herself, as always.

Your grandfather clicks his tongue at Max, slightly annoyed at making it sound dramatic, even though it is. "I had a room next to Cookie's spell room. It was so that I would not bother her, but I could rest easier closer to her." He frowns slightly, still getting used to talking about his beloved in the past tense.

“Max is going to help me turn the teahouse into a little spell cottage.” The urge to be excited and proud for something you’re sharing with your soulmate is overwhelming, simply because after yesterday morning — and so many years before — there was not much to be excited about. And certainly no family to share anything with.

He smiles, a flash of fang and white teeth. No longer hiding them now that he's not just in your subconscious. "That is wonderful, muñequita." He agrees. "Every witch would have her own space. Your mother preferred her room, no other would do, when she would work on her magic."

“Her room was the one with the silver wallpaper, wasn’t it?” Somehow there is no doubt of that in your mind. The powerful feeling of belonging and comfort you had gotten from it when you first walked through the house now makes perfect sense, and you’re glad that you didn’t choose it for yourself. From now on you can go and sit in your mother’s room when you miss her, and that almost brings happy tears to your eyes. Because gods above, you have missed her so much.

"It was." He smiles as he realizes you must have felt a connection to the room. A presence. Since his daughter had passed, he had hoped that the feeling of her spirit - her early spirit - would remain. It and you were all he had left of his beloved child. "The portait hanging above the bed is your mother, nieta. She was twenty when it was painted."

“Abuela kept it close.” It isn’t even a question. You understand completely that that is how it ended up in the bedroom that once belonged to your grandmother and is now yours. “Was it for when she came out? Or…did Mom ever have anyone? Before Dad, I mean?” It’s a delicate topic but an important one, and something pulling at the back of your mind pushes you to ask it now instead of waiting.

“Your mother had a soulmate that she was with.” The memory makes him frown, his brow furrowing slightly.

“She did?” That is startling news, considering she always told you that she didn’t have one. But apparently there are a great many things your mother didn’t tell you.

"It is probably my greatest regret." There is a dramatic sigh for show from the vampire and he sets his tea cup down. "I, like any parent, made mistakes, muñequita." He admits. "Like Cookie and I, we believed that your mother was destined to be mated with a vampire. By the time she had come - which was a miracle - there was a large coven of witches and vampires. Despite my best efforts, there had been tensions between the two groups." He bites his lip. "Our nature, our bloodlust, craves the blood of a witch more than anything else." He reveals. "It's nearly ambrosia to a vampire and because of that, there had been some hard feelings among the covens because of our...less than responsible vampires."

"You believed she was meant to be mated with a vampire even though there were objections to vampire and witches interacting?" It isn't a judgement call, you're just trying to understand. Apparently your little suburban family with typical holiday dinners (and atypical holidays) was far less typical than you thought. "And Mom...didn't want that?"

"Vampire and witches are stronger together." He tells you quietly. "Especially for us. My line. We were the only ones capable of having children. Of creating a lineage." He sighs again. "She was in love with him. Emanuel was a smart, talented young man. Her mother and I were proud when we discovered they had matching marks."

"So what happened, then? Did something happen to him?" It must have, otherwise your father would have been a very different man. And Yayo wouldn't look so terribly sad.

“I made the mistake of changing him.” He murmurs quietly. “I didn’t do it without his permission. He wanted to become a vampire.” It’s almost as if he was imploring you to believe him.

"But you didn't talk to Mom first?" Though it is only a guess, it is a solid one, and you put your fork down for a moment. "It was a long time ago, Yayo. A very long time ago. I'm not judging you. I just want to understand what happened to my family."

“No, I did not talk to your mother.” He had hoped it would be seen as a gesture on Emanuel’s part. His acceptance of the family he had joined. “Unfortunately, your mother’s blood called to him. He tried to drink from her and she—” he winces. “She destroyed her soulmate.”

“Gods.” If you had been holding anything you would have dropped it instantly. Your mother killed her soulmate over bloodlust. That makes you stammer for a moment before all you can do is reach for Max’s hand and try not to shudder at the idea. You know Max would never hurt you. He’s proved that. He’s your port in the storm. “I’m so sorry, Yayo.”

"She blamed me. As she should have." He watches as you reach for Max and it soothes him in a way that he would never be able to explain. Your soulmate is a vampire and yet you are still drawn to him, comforted by him. "I had not yet learned how to bring one of my protégé back, so he was lost to us."

“Thank you for learning.” Your hand tightens around Max’s subtly, fingers flexing and keeping his grip. “For…making sure Max was here for me when I needed him.”

"Of course, muñequita." He nods his head seriously. "You should have met him years before and I cannot fix the past, but I could make sure you would meet him."

“And you have no idea how much that means to me.” He has no idea of what you’ve been through. What has gone on in your life between childhood and now. But at least you can say to his face that you’re grateful.

“I spent many years trying to find the way to fix my mistakes.” He murmurs quietly. “I am afforded the luxury of time, so I decided to put it to good use.”

“They did raise me a witch.” It’s the most reassurance you can give him, since your parents did not give you even a hint of the reality of vampires in the world. They had taught you magic, yes, but you had never had a real talent for spell work. “I’m sorry to ask you all of these things all at once. I just…I guess I don’t understand why we haven’t been in contact since the accident?” Allison had told you something about helping Cookie break a powerful spell, and that that was why she chose to stop drinking Yayo’s blood. But you still don’t quite understand.

“Your mother, while she wished to be human,” he sighs again. “Was a powerful witch. Some of her own talents far surpassing even her mother’s.” He picks up a few of the nuts and rolls them around in his hand. “There is a spell, a protective barrier, that would keep anyone away until the blood price has been paid.” He stares at you solemnly. “Death.”

“She really didn’t want me involved in all of this…” Something which is both stunning and rather appalling to you, considering coming to Newport might truly have saved your life. Who knows what might have happened to you if you had had to live in your car in Tennessee. Knowing that your sweet, steadfast mother was angry enough with her parents to separate you for life is daunting.

“Your mother…” he doesn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and especially of the daughter that he had loved for centuries and will continue to love until he is destroyed. “Was very much human in the fact that she was not infallible, none of us are.” He doesn’t wish for you to hold a grudge against her, even as he tries to explain things. “I pushed too hard and tried to see you again after that last memory I showed you. That was when she cast the spell.”

“A spell that kept you and abuela away…and made me think that I made you up?” That is a remarkably impressive spell, you will admit it freely. Your mother’s abilities must have been far greater than you could ever have dreamed.

“Yes.” He bites his lip. “It was one that took us a long time to even figure out what she had used and even longer to discover the key to breaking it.” He reaches out and touches your hand. “Your abuela left you a letter, in case these truths ever came to light.”

“I would like to read it. If it’s not too much trouble.” A few of Cookie’s own words might be wonderful, if you’re honest. Though you do already feel the fullness in your mind off memories beginning to resettle now that you realize they are memories and not only your imagination. “It…doesn’t have to do this moment. It will take some time to process all of this.”

“Whenever you feel like it.” He promises, smiling indulgently at you. “I will have them placed in your room for when you are ready.”

“I’m…” There isn’t technically any reason to feel this way, but you still squeeze his cold hand gently. “I’m sorry we were apart so long.”

“Muñequita, do not feel guilty.” He chides softly, aware of that expression on your face. “It is I who am the guilty one. You have suffered for so long because I could not find you. I could not reach you.”

“It isn’t your fault that I was in a bad situation. Or Max’s either.” Acutely aware that Max views himself as responsible for that entire situation because he had been expelled that night, you won’t hear of it for even a second. “It seems like this is a new beginning for all of us.” New, aside from the specter of your ex-boyfriend that now hangs over Newport.

“Though I hear you had a visitor yesterday.” Your grandfather’s youthfully middle aged face drops unhappily and his eyes darken fiercely.

“I—” Mistaking his displeasure for anger directed at you, your eyes stop to the table instantly. “He was not invited,” you defend immediately, not wanting anyone to get in trouble on your account.

He pauses when he realizes that you think he is upset at you. “Yes, this…Derek will be dealt with.” He promises you. “Although I do not understand why you will not let your soulmate kill him.”

“Because I don’t believe that murder is ever the answer. Regardless of the question.” Suffering, pain, death — none of it. You’ve lived several lifetimes of all that hurt and you would be happy to never have another second of it near you.

“Kind and empathetic.” He hums, not displeased with the idea at all. “I will promise you this—” he taps your hand gently. “If he harms you again, nothing on this earth or in hell will protect him from me.” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. A pact to repay every hurt he has ever bestowed upon you tenfold.

“I will say if I am hurt or not.” That is the bargain you will make. To make your grandfather feel as though the door is open, though you need intend to go through it.

His eyes narrow for a moment in contemplation and he nods. “Agreeable.” He decides.

******

For the rest of your meal, he answers your questions, never shying away from the answers and it surprises Max. His sire has always been elusive at times, and yet, he is very succinct with you. Perhaps it is because of the want to keep you close.

After he leaves you, your grandfather goes back to the tower. The locked room beyond Cookie’s potion room now opened. The mahogany box retrieved from a shelf and his fingers brush over the inlaid gold. The letters are inside. Lovingly preserved for you. His soulmate had taken to writing you at least once a week since deciding that she would sacrifice herself to break what she viewed as a curse. Her thoughts, hopes, memories all immortalized in ink, her familiar script beautiful as he opens the box and lifts a letter to his nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume. “You would have loved her, Cookie.” He murmurs sadly. “She’s stronger than all of us.”

******

The cadence of his footsteps is unfamiliar, and nearly nonexistent, but you know it’s him coming into the library a few minutes after breakfast has ended without ever having to look up. Mrs. Taylor has left menus for you to approve and Max is outside at the teahouse with Mr. Taylor — and Renee is altogether too bright and sunshiny for such a quiet entrance. But when Yayo appears holding a beautifully and intricately carved box in his hands, the arrival is near-silent and solemn.

“I had considered leaving these in your rooms.” He admits quietly, his voice low and soothing like it always is. “But then, I did not know if you would want that.”

“Would you…” you push the tray of menus aside, knowing that Mrs. Taylor won’t object to getting them later today. Not when these letters are so important. “Want to sit with me? While I read some?”

“I would be delighted.” Silently and much faster than Max, he moves over to you with the box.

The letter box is lacquered mahogany, trimmed in gilded dragons done after the Chinese style in what you now know intimately as chinoiserie — a Gilded Age specialty. It’s yet one more thing in this house that someone else would sell for a fortune at auction and instead you cling to it desperately as a connection to your family’s past. The key that he has left resting on top fits neatly into the lock and you open the box with a small smile as you bite your lip in concentration. The box is very old, after all, and delicate. What’s inside, though? Dozens of letters. Some thick and some thin. All stamped with blood red wax and addressed to you. “There’s…so many of them…”

“My late soulmate was a woman who loved to write letters.” He admits, his smile wistful. “There is a trunk of letters she had written to your mother while we were…estranged.” He reveals. “At one point after learning of her death, she had thought to burn them all, but could not.”

“The accident wasn’t easy for anyone,” you admit, glad to see him pull up a chair beside the large library desk with you instead of pacing anxiously or giving you distance. There has been so much distance for so long — all you want now is to keep him close. “I almost withdrew my place in college and just stayed closed up in the house. But I knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“No, they wouldn’t have.” As much as he regrets not being there for you, he admires your courage. You might not think so, but you have been extremely strong-willed through the last ten years.

“And these are…all for me?” It seems incredible to you, that anyone would have spent so much time and effort just thinking of you, but the reality of things has been so different than what you thought they were for your entire life that it bears a sort of…reinspection.

“Yes.” He smiles at the box. “She would sit at her writing desk and talk to me about you. Wondering what you were like, how you were doing.”

“What was your favorite thing to imagine?” There is no way they could have guessed the truth, and that is your comfort. That you hope they never feared for you.

“You used to love to dance.” Your grandfather hums. “We spent hours dancing in your living room when you were small. We used to imagine you dancing. Laughing as you were guided along the dance floor.”

“I stopped for a long time.” You admit, not ashamed of the fact although you’re ashamed of the reason. It’s just what happened. It was your life for many years. “But I’ve started again…because of Max.”

“That’s brilliant.” His eyes sparkle in delight and his lips quirk up in a pleased smile. “You were so happy to learn when you were just a baby.”

“I loved ballet.” The slipper blanket still in your room is proof enough of that, and you smile. “But I do love ballroom more. And Max did danced competitively in college. It’s…honestly so nice to be able to share that with him.”

“It was my rule for the school that all students must take an elective that was creative.” He tells you with a dramatic flip of his hand. “I think it appealed to him because I was teaching the class and your soulmate is a bit of a suck up.”

“So you teach, then?” Ignoring the comment about Max — because you used to be a little bit of a suck up in dance class, too — you leave the letter chest closed and focus on Yayo. “In Romania?”

“That is how I discovered your soulmate, Muñequita.” He hums. “When I saw the birthmark, a mark I would know anywhere, I knew. I knew I had to take him under my wing.”

“I’m so grateful that you did.” If not for Yayo, who knows who Max’s sire would have been? Who knows how you ever would have found him again?

“I made mistakes with him as well.” He can admit that, flashing a fangy smile. “I let him get too arrogant. But he has learned his lesson.”

“According to him, he was already arrogant,” you tell your grandfather. “But he says that his attitude has changed enormously since you brought him back.”

“It has.” He agrees with Max’s assessment of himself completely. “This house, his stay here has been good for him.”

“This house has been good for me, too.” Yesterday morning notwithstanding, of course.

“Of course it has.” To imagine anything else would be unbelievable. “Despite your mother’s ill feelings, I had this house built to be a refuge, a haven, if you will.”

“Mom didn’t like having her hand forced. I didn’t understand it then, but I do as I get older.” It makes you shrug, though, not wanting to start an argument with your grandfather. “But this house has certainly been a haven for me. So thank you.”

“If I could have done things differently, I would have.” He admits quietly. “I would have bitten my tongue and realized my daughter’s dreams for life weren’t mine for her.”

“Regretting and wishing can’t bring them back,” you murmur, voice finding the same tenor as his. “If it could, we would have had my parents back immediately.”

“You are right.” He reaches out and pats your hand. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

“I have had a lot of time to think it over. Not as much as you, of course, but…” A slight shrug of your shoulders comes as your hand runs over the box in front of you again. “There is so much I would say to my mother if I could see her again.”

His smile turned mysterious and he hums. “Think of what you would say to her, Muñequita. Never forget it.”

“I wish she could meet Max.” The thought had already occurred to you more than once, and as much as it hurts you also have to believe that she’s watching over you with your father beside her. “I think they would enjoy teasing each other.”

“She had a robust sense of humor.” He chuckles. “Perhaps one day you will know what she thinks.”

“It would be too wonderful for words, I think.” Dwelling on it for too long threatens to drown you in a wave of sadness, and your expression flickers — faltering slightly. “But I can dream.”

Sensing that you might want some space, he pats your hand again and stands. “I think I will go have Mrs. Taylor bring you up a pot of tea while you go through your abuela’s letters.” He decides.

“Thank you, Yayo.” Your hand catches his, squeezing his fingers tight for a moment before letting it go again. “For everything.”

“It is my pleasure and my duty.” He nods and bows slightly before disappearing from sight.

The box in front of you is full to bursting, and when you open the lid it is clear that some letters consist of a single page while some are self-contained novelas. They seem to be stacked in order of writing, but not with any semblance of order in the time between each letter. Selecting the first — a single sheet neatly folded, waxed, and dated — you carefully slip the seal and open the paper.

My Darling Girl— It has been a month and a week since we visited you last, making today your ninth birthday. I hope it is joyful, sweetheart, and that you know how very dearly your grandfather and I love you. When we see you again we will bring your gift and heaps of books, and your grandfather will dance with you until you are too exhausted even to laugh. And it will do my heart so much good to see you both reunited. You are the magic of our hearts, darling, and always will be. But in case this letter is only the first of many you will not see until you are a grown woman, know that we are thinking of you and missing you every day. And that we are so proud of you, no matter what path you choose each day. Happy birthday, darling girl. We love you. Granny Cookie

The heavy vellum paper is quite old, the scrawling, looping handwriting a work of art. Cookie had whimsically decided that your letters would be written with a quill, like she would have before. Making it a labor of love.

There are so many that it seems daunting, and something tells you not to read them in order but that might just be a response to how many there are. You’re still toying with the box, though, when Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway with a tea tray.

“Your grandfather said you might enjoy some tea while you read.” She smiles as she walks inside. “I took the liberty of making Cookie’s favorite tea for you.”

“You’ve known the entire time.” Far from being angry or accusatory, there is awe in your voice. Her loyalty and steadfastness to your grandparents is astonishing.

“I have.” She doesn’t apologize, her smile softening slightly. “It has been hard not to mention your mother, since you look so like her.”

The tea tray she sets down on the desk beside you is sparse, but Mrs. Taylor never brings * only* tea. There is a plate of scones today, with jam and butter. “Did you ever meet me before?” You ask cautiously, unsure if you had ever even been to this house as a child or if the housekeeper had ever traveled with your grandparents. “When I was young?”

“We have met before.” She answers vaguely, a curious twist to her lips. “There was a time we spend quite a bit of time together.”

“I wish I could remember.” It must have been when you were just a baby, considering that first letter from your abuela was at your ninth birthday. “I wish I could remember this house. Or visiting here.”

“A side effect of the spell.” She murmurs quietly. “It’s as if this house never existed to you before now.”

“I knew my mother was powerful, but I guess I never really knew how much.” There were always signs of it growing up, and of course your father has considerable magic as well, but this is a level far beyond what you knew was possible. “But…I never knew she was half-vampire, either. I suppose there was quite a lot they kept from me.”

“Your mother…” she sighs softly, a sound just for you. It had been amazing learning how to do those things again when you don’t need to breathe. It conveys so much. “Always looked at the other side of the field and admired the grass there. Even though her side was perfectly lush.”

“She wanted to explore.” Even as young as you were when she died, you know that. “Explore new experiences and meet new people. The more and the more different, the better.”

“She had been that way for her entire life.” Mrs. Taylor hums, happy that she had never lost her spark. “She was the first of her social circle to wear pants when it was so terribly taboo.”

“I can see her doing that. Being a rabble rouser.” In fact, from alternative choices at bake sales to extra adventures on field trips, your mother was always ready for anything. For a long time, you had wanted to grow up to be just like her. Fearless.

“Despite that, she broke many hearts when her soulmate was found.” She tells you. “She had quite the number of gentleman callers before.”

“Dad always joked that he had to treat Mom like a princess because there would always be another guy who would if he didn’t.” Mostly those jokes had been to encourage you to look for someone who would treat you the same, but you hadn’t really understood that at the time. Now, you think it might be a big part of why your father might have approved of Max. “So I can see that.”

“That is true.” She agrees. “I did not get to know your father well, but he seemed like he was a good man. He loved your mother, that was obvious.”

“He did.” You nod, agreeing with that statement easily. “He loved her more than anything else in the world.”

“Then that is all that matters.” While she’s sure that her soulmate would have been amazing, she’s not lived for as long as she had without knowing that you don’t have to be a soulmate to love someone completely.

“They were wonderful together.” It warns a small, almost wistful sigh from you and you smile. “Completely wonderful.”

******

Max had not meant to leave you alone all day. After breakfast with his sire, he had gone off with Mr. Taylor to look at the Tea House. Looking had turned into doing and half the afternoon was gone before he realized. Strolling into the morning room, he grins when he finds you still reading letters, happy to see you enjoying yourself. Carefully handling the folded and wax sealed paper as if it were precious, because it is to you. “How many secrets did the old bird spill?”

“You’re never going to believe some of the stuff she wrote out for me.” Having moved from the library after tea to the window seat in the morning room, you’ve been basking in the near-sunset while you read uninterrupted. But now that Max is back inside? You shift to one side of the seat and sit up, making room for him to join you. “She wrote down as much as she could stand to, I think. Sometimes just little notes and sometimes pages upon pages.”

Max plops down next to you in a graceless flop that would have looks undignified by anyone else. He makes it look almost elegant in its casualness. “So it’s like a journal….in letters?” He asks curiously, peeking at the script of the one you are holding.

“Kind of.” You nod and shift closer to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne when he puts one arm around you. Since vampires don’t sweat, the only underlying scent is the intensely powerful sunscreen he wears everyday to keep from being affected by the sun. Enchanted, according to him. “Some of these are stories about my mom. Others are talking about powers she suspects I might have had, or would be able to develop. Others are just memories. Sometimes she even wrote down stories about her and Yayo.”

“Really?” His eyes widen and he playfully waggles his brows. “Don’t know if you should be reading those.” He teases.

“They’re not intimate stories.” You pinch Max with two fingers and laugh, feeling lighter this afternoon than you thought you would be able to. “They’re my grandparents.”

“Uhhhh, hate to tell you, babe…” Max grins even wider, happy you are laughing and smiling. “Grandparents fuck.” He snorts. “Otherwise there would be no parents to have the grandkids and make them grandparents.”

“Yes, they do.” The way you roll your eyes is just for show, playing along with his teasing. “But they don’t typically tell those stories to their twelve-year-old granddaughters.” The letter you happen open to be holding is on the thicker side, dated the summer you were twelve. “Usually.”

He snickers and shrugs. “It would be a lot cooler if they did.” He jokes. “Let the g-kids know how hip they were at one time.”

“I think I would have been horrified to hear that when I was twelve,” you tell him honestly. “I was a very innocent kid.”

“Very innocent, huh?” He leans in and kisses your cheek. “We’ll change that, Queenie.”

“I was an innocent kid.” The last word gets emphasis, and you tilt your head to kiss his lips as of that proves some sort of point. “I don’t think what we did the other night counts as innocent in the least.”

“Just a little harmless grinding.” His grin turns positively wicked. “It’ll be less innocent when my ‘no need to breathe’ face is planted in your pussy for hours on end until you can’t take another orgasm.”

It should be abundantly obvious from the shock on your face that you hadn’t yet put that puzzle together, and the heat in your cheeks radiates off you in waves. “Yep…” you manage to swallow finally and half-nod. “That will be…not innocent at all.”

The chuckle he gives is filthy, accompanied by a wink. “So I was thinking about another date tonight.”

"You were?" the suggestion lights you up immediately, although it is tinged with that unfortunate but real paranoia. "Did you have something in mind?"

“I know you love to dance, but I don’t want to be a one trick pony.” Max hums, leaning in against you. “So I thought we could be disgustingly cliché. There’s a pumpkin patch, with a corn maze and a ‘haunted hayride’.” He puts air quotes around the last portion. “They do all the cutesy shit and sell hot chocolate. I thought you would love it.”

“Are you going to protect me from all the jump scares and fake vampires?” It’s your own small brand of teasing, because even though you love horror movies as an adult there is something about jump scares in real life that is less fun and more anxiety-inducing. The one thing you do know, though, deep in your heart? Is that Max will protect you no matter what.

“Absolutely.” Max practically giggles. “Gotta show off so your little pussy throbs at what a strong, manly vamp I am.” He winks to show that he’s teasing, but he would protect you from anything.

“And you can smell it, so I can’t even pretend like it doesn’t affect me.” Which, admittedly, could be slightly embarrassing. But for some reason Max being so in tune with your emotions is a wicked turn on.

“You can pretend it doesn’t affect you at any time.” He hums. “Just because you’re turned on, doesn’t mean you are in the mood, sweetheart.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Although he does have a point, and you appreciate him acknowledging it out loud. “I was thinking more like…it’s harder to play innocent. Since I kind of have an inkling that you might enjoy that sort of thing.”

“Hmmmmm but I like when someone plays hard to get.” He admits with a grin. “Knowing they want me but making me chase is just as thrilling.”

“So this works for you perfectly then, I guess?” It’s one less thing to have on your mind, if he’s telling the truth. And Max has never given you any reason to think he would lie. “You probably love those great big doe eyes some girl have. The innocence and purity of it all.”

“I like your eyes.” He flirts shamelessly. “They are the prettiest I’ve ever gotten lost in.”

“I’m already yours, ya know.” Despite the protest, you absolutely melt in his arms and become a puddle against his chest. “You don’t have to flirt.”

“I want to flirt.” He promises. “Flirting is good for the body, mind and soul.” He announces. “It makes you feel good, makes you feel wanted and it makes you easier to kiss.” He teases, turning his head and kissing your nose.

“In that case?” You could not be more putty-like in his arms if he had been literally kneading your shoulders. “What time do you want to go out tonight? Because hay rides and pumpkins and chilly fall things with you sounds like a dream.”

“Six? Six-thirty?” He asks. “That way we still have plenty of daylight to pick out pumpkins? I know you will want one or two.”

“That’s perfect.” You would probably put a pumpkin or two in every room of the house if you could, but that sounds like a mess waiting to happen. “Do you want to sit with me for a little bit or do you have something you want to do before then?” It’s about a hour and a half away, and there are so many more letters from your grandmother to read. The box seems never ending. It might even be enchanted to hold extra, you can’t tell.

“I’m right here until we change,” he promises. “I’m thinking this will be our casual date. Leggings, boots, for you of course.”

“Maybe we can alternate?” It’s just a small idea, but knowing that he loves to dress up and make a splash and you aren’t typically as well dressed as he is lets you both have moments of fun and moments of relaxation. “Something fancy and something casual?”

“That sounds good to me, Queenie.” He flashes you a grin. “Can’t hurt and it’ll keep you from getting bored.”

“I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you.” It’s just a feeling, but it’s right in the back of your mind and hovering over your heart, so it’s undeniable.

“It’s because I’m incredible.” He boasts, but it’s all just an act. His thigh is pressed against yours and he looks over at the letters. “Want to read me one? Or is it something you’d rather keep to yourself for now?”

“I think it’s safe to say that my family is your family…since my grandfather is literally your sire and all.” It does sort of call the structure of vampire families into question in your mind, but that is a detail you will ask Yayo about later on. “You can read the next one. That sounds nice.”

“You want me to read it to you?” He asks, brow raised at the thought. “I will.”

“I like your voice,” you admit sheepishly, sinking down in his arms a little in a rush of embarrassment. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of it now.” He teases, reaching into the box and selecting a letter. “Hmmmm, how does this one look?”

“Perfect.” Every time he shows such amusement or happiness at little compliments from you, you feel that same skip in your heart that you’re starting to think might become a permanent fixture in your life. Max never ceases to surprise you with his affection and it really is wonderful.

“Puuuuurrrrrfect.” He rolls his ‘r’ playfully as he slides a neatly manicured nail under the wax seal and breaks it. Stopping and shuddering before he looks over at you. “Did you feel that?”

“It’s just a little chilly in here.” You explain it away instinctively, not even realizing that a breeze would have no effect on Max whatsoever.

“Sppppooooooky.” He’s playing it up, but there had been a current to the air when he broke the seal on this letter. Clearing his through is purely perfunctory as he opens the stiff paper. “My darling Muñequita,” he begins and says the date.

This is a later letter, something from you were a teenager. Max must have gone deep into the box. You hum happily at that and snuggle into his side like a cat.

“You really are the cleverest witch I have seen in my time. And considering how old I truly am, that is saying something.” He tilts his head and glances up at you before looking back at the letter. “To think that the answer was right in front of us, just a few words difference is simply magical, pardon the pun.”

“Are you sure this one is addressed to me and not my mom?” Though the question is rhetorical, there is also a nugget of truth to it. You haven’t done any sort of remarkable magic in years.

“It says it’s to you.” He huffs, flipping it back over so you can see the way it’s addressed. “Hush.” He blows you a raspberry. “Take the compliments. Now where was I?” He scans the page again. “For centuries, we had just believed that it was a myth, as fanciful as that sounds. Time travel. Who would have believed H.G.Wells was a witch?”

“I’m sorry.” Sitting up ramrod straight in an instant, your eyes go wide. “Did you just say time travel?”

“Are you always this disruptive?” Max teases as he waves the letter at you. “It’s right here. Do you want to read it for yourself?”

“But time travel is impossible!” Managing to snatch the letter from his hand, you settle back in his arms with a furrowed brow and your two front teeth firmly biting down on your lower lip as you reread what he had just read out loud. “Who would have believed H.G. Wells was a witch? Of course, everyone know that magic, alchemy, and science are all the same thing. But not everyone knows how to harness it to emotion. But you are such a clever thing, we ought to have suspected that you would find a way.”

“Sounds like someone did something.” Max intones, his voice playful, but he’s impressed.

“I can’t imagine what. By the time this was written, they hadn’t been allowed to see me in more than six years.” Still, the pull of this particular letter is far too strong, and you turn back to it with curiosity. “It took us an embarrassingly long time to understand it fully, Muñequita, but once we did you cannot imagine how foolish we felt for not seeing it years before.”

“Wow...incredibly intriguing.” Max snorts, impatient as always. “Like- what did you do? I wanna know.”

"I'm disruptive and you're impatient," you tease, but you keep reading. "To know that you managed to visit us from your time is remarkable beyond words. And how clever you were not to let us know, to never have even given us a whiff. You have your Yayo's talent for keeping secrets, darling girl, and we are so proud of the power you have finally come to. We will keep the portrait you so graciously left with us in the house and I will display it proudly for all of my days, telling anyone who asks that my granddaughter has a warm and loving heart and a doting, charming husband."

“Husband?” His own eyes widen slightly and his lips curve into a slow grin. “Something I should know, Queenie?”

“At the moment you know exactly as much as I do.” Your hand is practically shaking with the letter in it, but the slightly smug, pleased grin on his face makes you huff out a laugh. “I have no idea!”

“Wellllllll, now we have a mystery to talk about.” Max chuckles. He knows that you don’t know, but it’s intriguing.

“If I had to guess?” Being the kind of little kid — and sometimes adult — that had dreamt yourself into every possible and impossible kind of situation, you avoid his eyes slightly when you shrug. “If this is true, then you must have been there, too. I wouldn’t call anybody else that, and depending on when we went to, dating doesn’t exist. It’s married or unmarried, and an unmarried woman has a hell of a lot more restrictions on how she can act than a married one.”

“That would be interesting.” He snorts and shrugs. “I promise I won’t demand my husbandly rights if you’re correct.”

“Maybe we’ll actually be married by the time it happens, who knows?” It’s such a ludicrous ides that you can’t really take it seriously in the first place, and you shrug. “Besides, it’s time travel, honey. It’s not true. It can’t be.”

“And vampires don’t exist.” Max reminds you with a grin. “It’s so unbelievable that you would go back in time to visit with your granny when your soulmate doesn’t have a pulse and drinks blood?”

He has, frustratingly, a very good point. So much so that it makes you pause with your mouth already half-open to a pithy reply and shut it again with a furrowed brow. “I guess…” you swallow a deep breath. “If I wear every going to visit anyone…”

“She would be the one to visit.” Max finishes for you. “I wonder when you visit her. Obviously you haven’t yet.”

“After Mom was born.” You can answer that easily, even if your voice is quiet. “Any time when Mom was young. I always wondered what she was like as a young woman…and she never liked to tell stories. I get why, now. How could she rephrase a story about the 1870s to make it sound like modern life?” The idea of seeing your mother again is painful it’s so sweet, and you sniffle quietly, burying your face in your free hand. “I miss her so much.”

“I know you do.” Max hums thoughtfully after a moment. “You can’t have gone to the past when she would remember it, would you? Otherwise, she might have done things differently in life, right?”

“I guess…it would have to have been long enough ago that she wouldn’t have a strong memory of me. Or at least that she would never make the connection.” It feels like such a weird thing to contemplate, but Max is looking down at you so intently that you find yourself just spinning in the idea. Trying to follow the thought all the way through. “And I certainly wouldn’t use my real name. It would be Dolly. Or Queenie.”

“When we time travel, don’t use your real name, got it.” He gives you a thumbs up and snorts playfully. “Can I have a code name too?”

“Sure.” If you do roll your eyes at him it’s all in good fun and teasing. “What do you want your code name to be? James Bond?”

“Bond.” He imitates with an English accent. “James Bond.” He laughs and shakes his head.

He is laughing, which has you giggling, and you shake your head at him in pure amusement. “I genuinely can’t tell if that’s a yes or no,” you tease.

“I would need something way cooler.” He huffs and smirks at you. “Something that is subtly acknowledging my sexual magmatism.”

“Bruno?” Just about anything would be silly, and you can’t resist his smirk anyway. “Should we call you Jean-Claude van Damme?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Romania, not Austria, babe.”

“What would you like to be called?” What he wants is more important than anything, after all. At least, it is to you.

“I was just teasing, sweetheart.” He promises. “Call me Max, I promise it’ll be alright with me.”

"We won't ever need to worry about it." You're certain of that, somehow. Even with the evidence sitting right there in your hand.

“With this discovery, do you still want to go out?” He asks quietly. If you’d rather read more letters, he wouldn’t blame you.

“I think I need some time to adjust to the idea,” you admit, putting the letter down without finishing it. It’s taking up so much space in your mind that you feel as if you might explode. “Maybe I’ll shower before we go out? I know we said tonight is going to be casual but I still want to look nice for you.”

“Go shower, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “Or better yet, go soak in that claw foot tub.”

“Yeah?” It’s a very soothing idea, and you have to agree that it might do you a world of good. All the same, though, you don’t want to be too far from Max. “Are you going to go back out to the tea house?”

“No.” He can sense your unease, and he quickly decides that he will stay nearby. “I’m going to go see if my jeans still fit.” He jokes with a grin. “Haven’t worn them in a long time. No need to, until now.”

“I know you’ll be very handsome in whatever you choose.” It is touching, though, that he is dressing down for you. Because you know that his suits are his suits of armor.

“I know the leather jacket is what you’ll focus on.” He jokes, winking at you.

If you could stop yourself from blurting it out you would have, but your immediate reaction is an unapologetic: “You have a leather jacket?”

His eyes light up when you give yourself away and he nods. “Yep.” He hums, leaning in to you, crowding you slightly. “Black leather.”

“That…” When you swallow it’s slightly embarrassed but interested all the same. “That sounds nice.”

“Does it?” He rubs his hand down your arm. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll see how you look in it tonight when you get cold.”

The thought of being marked as his in any way makes you burn in the most unexpectedly lustful way, and you clear your throat before standing up. “I going to go take a cold bath.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” Max reaches out and pats your hip. “I’ll be here when you get out.” He pauses. “Better yet, I’ll be at your door when you’re ready.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @8-900 @survivingandenduring @ktmadden86 @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sweetnsaltyclussy

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #mysterious inheritance #The Thief #Casillero del Diablo #magic #witch reader

[gloxk]

“Mary Jane.”

Gojo satoru ~

Summary: Your best friend was a snake. She slept with your boyfriend at a party. Everything shattered when you saw them. Your heart broke, leaving you with hatered and resentment. But two can play that game. Didn't she know? Karma’s a bitch.

W/C : 2k+. READING TIME: 10 minutes.

Setting: Modern Au, Reader is in their 20’s.

Song inspo:The best I ever had (Limi)/ Birthday S*X (Jeremih)/Drunk in love (The weekends version)/What you need(the weekend.)

A/N: Happy kinktober. It’s been a minute. (I've returned just for this years kinktober) idk i’ve just been busy fr. I haven’t been writing at all 😭. But I was on tik tok right, and i saw this lil video abt a story. So yall know those reddit stories? Bro this story was fucking outrageous, i tell ya. So boom bro got cheated on by his gf and she slept w his best friend. I was like damnnnnn 💀 ain’t no way. So bro turned around n fcked his ex best friends sister. The crazy thing is HE RECORDED IT. AND HE SENT IT TO BRO. I got carried away w this one. (I was high asf.) But anyway please enjoy! My grammar might be fucked up i didn’t feel like prof reading. Mdni/ageless blogs you will be blocked. 17+.

Warnings: F/M relations,Jealousy, angst if you squint, friend dumping, lewd behavior, DRUGS & alcohol. (mary J) mentions of Ex, BJ’s, Male receiving, unprotected sex (I got a little nasty w this one)

————————————————

You sat there disappointed in your dry phone. It was like looking at a blank screen. The night was cold, dark, and quiet. Everything was different now that you cut off your toxic-ass best friend. Deleting all the pictures and videos of you two. All the happiness and laughter y’all had shared just for it to be ruined in a few hours. The incident only happened a few days ago.

You decide to scroll through your alt account’s Instagram feed hoping to see something interesting. Something interesting indeed popped up. A little green circle around your ex-best friend’s profile picture. “Curiosity killed the cat ya’know?”, It surely killed you as soon as you clicked it. She was with your Ex. Your face scrunched in disbelief. You couldn’t help but muster up a pitiful laugh. What was going through her goddamn mind? Did she know the alt belong to you? Was the random pinterest boy profile picture not convincing enough? You nearly tossed your phone to the ground you felt tears bubbling up in your eyes. You remember the whole thing like it was yesterday. The horrible things you said to each other. But one thing she said in particular stuck in your head. “You aren’t even together anymore! Why the fuck do you care Y/n?”, Those were the last words she said to you, the last words you needed to hear to leave her alone. It hurt you so much, the girl you known from middle school betrayed you.

It was late maybe around 11 pm. Your mind was filled with anger. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. You told her everything and she did the same. You two grew up together. When you introduced your boyfriend and best friend they hit it off. They were so cool with each other that it seemed like a dream come true. Having your best friend actually like your boyfriend was extremely rare to come by. Your dream came short-lived after you found them fucking in a bathroom at a party. It hurt so fucking bad. You clenched your shirt trying not to cry. That night broke you, you lost everything in 4 hours. All it took was a couple of shots and one blunt to have your whole world crash. In a fit of rage, you decided to go through her entire Instagram feed. Scrolling through every single post. In a recent post from earlier today, you saw a dump of her stepbrother. All of the pictures were silly, cute pictures of him. You couldn’t lie, he was fine as fuck. You saw her stepbrother a couple of times when y'all were younger, but god did puberty hit him good. He was tall and muscular with a sharp jawline. He has white hair and beautiful ocean-colored eyes. He had a couple of arm tattoos as well. You sat there trying to remember his name. You looked over the caption trying to find something leading to him, the caption read: “HAPPY 19th BIRTHDAY @satoruxgxjo! I hope 19 treats you good lil, bro :).” That was his name! You finally remembered him. Satoru gojo, it was definitely moan-able. You DM’D him almost immediately.

(Y/n): “Hey! I saw your birthday was earlier and I wanted to wish you a happy 19th birthday!” You didn’t know what you expected him to say back to that. You didn’t know if you wanted him to immediately block you or text you back. Maybe if he blocked you would be able to move on and heal. But all you wanted was revenge. After two minutes you got a notification from Instagram. (satoruxgxjo): “Yo, I appreciate it. it’s been a minute. How have you been?” A smug smile arose on your face. You instantly texted him back. (Y/n): “I’ve been amazing. Recently I had just got some za from a friend and since it’s your birthday maybe we can roll up?” You watch as your text goes from Sent to Seen. Your heart immediately went faster.(satoruxgxjo): “Lmao? That was quick but sure. I don’t mind. Addy?” Your face was sinister. If he could see your face right here probably think twice about his current decision. You sent him your location, (Y/n): “I mean it’s not like we don’t know each other Saturo, just pull up :) We can catch up!”, You were so happy that this was gonna work out perfectly. (satoruxgxjo): “Who is Saturo? It’s Satoru* n I’m otw.” That happiness quickly faded into embarrassment. How could you forget his name already? You repeated it 10x to remember it, while repeating his name you quickly got up and rushed upstairs.

You dressed yourself in a loose shirt that hung off your shoulders, your chest was the only thing holding it up. Underneath you made sure to treat your guests to an easy reveal no bra and pink Victoria's Secret lace panties. Your hair was messy letting little strands of hair frame your face. You rushed downstairs to set everything up, you grabbed an open bottle of Hennessy and accompanied it with a jar of bud including a pack of Raw’s. Everything was set for the most part. You dimmed the lights and played some sensual music. You turned your TV on to some random Netflix show to make it seem casual. You soon turned your attention to the door as the doorbell rang. A wicked smile placed on your face, your hips swaying to the music. You opened the door and smiled at your victim—I mean visitor. “Heyy~.” Your voice filled with a welcoming tone. Luring him in like a fisherman. “Hey, Y/n.” He had a basic white shirt on, and his muscular body filled it out nicely. His lower half was hidden behind grey sweatpants, He had on white cross that were no longer white. His tall frame continued to tower over you. He sounded so nonchalant, but his blue eyes told a different story. He couldn’t stop looking at your bare shoulders. “Come in hun.” You moved out of his way and motioned him to the couch. The table caught his attention immediately. You made your way to the kitchen swaying to the beat of the music. “Henny? Whatcha got this for?” He picked up the bottle with an eager smile. “Why else Satoru?” You winked at him. Watching him open the bottle and pour himself a shot. “Well, Hopefully, it’s not for little ole me. God, you wouldn’t make such a silly mistake and give an underage boy Hennessy? Right?” He asked mocking you. A smug expression on his face. You couldn’t wait to wipe it off. “Oh of course not! I would never do such a disgraceful thing. But..I won’t tell if you won’t.” He threw his head back and he gulped down the shot of liquor. The burning sensation only made him crave it more. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.” He chuckled as he watched you sit down on the couch. He soon followed you and plopped down beside you. “You ever rolled before?” You looked at him as you picked up the grinder. “Nah, I’m more of a pipe or hookah person. Ya’know?” You giggled at him. He was falling into your trap without even knowing. “Lemme show you how to roll then.”. You took him through the basic steps. Letting your hands guide his. After a few attempts, he was able to get a good enough roll for a beginner. “And now ya gotta lick it.” You bent over his lap using his muscular arm to hold yourself up. You dragged your tongue over the paper making sure to seal it. You took the joint from him and began to light it. His eyes watched you dangerously. After a couple of pulls, you handed it back over to him. He pulled a heavy hit making him cough. You poured another shot for the both of you. Handing him a glass of liquor. “Oh? Is that for me? How kind.” Your hand sat between his thighs. “Of course.” He took the glass and knocked it back, and you followed his lead.

You weren’t slightly drunk nor were you high. But you couldn’t say the same for Satoru. He almost finished your bottle of Hennessy. His head was between your neck and shoulder. He was mumbling incoherent nonsense, you didn’t particularly care what he was babbling about. He was lying between your legs using your chest to keep him propped up. His hands rubbing your thigh, “Mm..please.” He mumbled desperately. “I told you not to drink too much Gojo. Now look at you.” You laughed as you rubbed his head. “.. I know. m’ sorry. Please y/n. Please.” You were confused you didn’t know what he was asking for to be quite frank. “You should get an Uber to take you home.” You nudged him to get off of you. He didn’t budge at all. His eyes looked up at you pleading with you. “I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay with you. lemme stay.” He was so whiny while he was drunk it was pissing you off. “Okay, you can stay.” He hummed softly in response. “upstairs?” You whispered in his ear, he nodded his head. You moved off the couch pulling him off with you. You walked him up the stairs to your bedroom. He was stumbling up the stairs you had to hold him up. Making it to your room in one piece was the hardest part. Opening the door his hands never left your body, If anything they became more needy. His fingers roamed around your back as he began to tug at your shirt.

You grabbed his hands telling him to stop. “I don’t know...if we should do this...I’m sure your sister wouldn’t like this.” You smiled as you pushed him on the bed. Of course, she wouldn’t like her brother sleeping with her ex-best friend. But that made it more exhilarating. Satoru groaned at your words. Bringing up what you and his sister had going on at a time like this was a low blow. “Don’t fuck with me Y/n. You’ve been touching me all night. Saying little shit to me. I’m ready now, and you’re gonna act like this?” You heard the frustration in his voice, looking down at his gray sweats pants you saw what else was frustrated. You laughed at him. “Oh look who’s mad at me. I’m just trying to respect you and your sister's relationship.” Your hands go under his shirt and rub his abs. He laughed as his arm covered his face. “Ah, so I understand why she called you a conniving bitch now.” Your smug face was quickly wiped with confusion. “Oh…Yeah? She gonna think I’m more than conniving after this.” You grabbed him by his hair pulling him closer. Your lips clashed against his, you could taste the intoxication on his tongue. The kiss became sloppy fairly quickly. His hands continued to roam over your back. He followed your lead not allowing your mouth to leave his. He yanked at your shirt, he wanted to pull it off of you. Sitting on his lap, you took off your shirt and tossed it to the side. His hands went up to cup your breasts. His fingers ran over your hardened nipples, his expression was darkened with lust. “So fckin pretty.” He sat up leaving kisses on your neck and chest. You assisted him in taking off his shirt and tossed it over to yours. Leaving kisses on his neck and slowly moving downward to his chest. Taking your precious time with him. He was so impatient, whining if you didn’t kiss him. You used your finger to trace his v-line teasing him enough to push him. You got up and slowly removed his sweatpants leaving him in his tight boxers. Licking your lips at the sight, it was a delectable sight indeed. Tracing the bulging print through his Ethikas. “Oh my god…” You stuttered in disbelief, this man was packing. Satoru felt you tugging his boxers, he lifted his hips and allowed you to yank them off of him. The cold air hit him drawing out a long sigh. Those blue eyes watching you with a dangerous glint, those eyes screaming out for you. “don’t play with me Y/n.” He whispered, almost as if he was begging you to make him feel something. You seated yourself between his thighs, looking at him with awe. Your hands running up and down his hardened dick. You gave him kitten licks on his tip, licking away any pre-cum. He growled at the teasing, “C'mon.” his hand caressingyour cheeks. You smiled as you quickly put your mouth around the tip and bobbed your head up and down.

His tip hits the back of your throat every time. Satoru’s hand pushed your head down so he could feel you deep-throat him, “Fuuucckk, just like that.” You pulled your head back with an angry expression. “Nobody likes a head pusher.”, You glared at him. “Nobody likes a fucking teaser.” He mumbled. You laughed at his audacity as if he was the one in control. You slipped off your underwear and climbed on top of him. Letting him slide in slowly, inch by inch. You threw your head backward, rolling your neck. Low moans escaped your mouth as you felt his hips grinning against yours. “Go faster.” His tone completely shifted from whiny and desperate to frustration. He wanted more, He needed more. It wasn’t enough for him. You looked so pretty going up and down on him. His eyes watched your body lift itself off of him and right back down. Your nails dug holes in his chest, “That fuckin’ hurts Y/n.” He gave you a sadistic smile as he dug his nails into your hips. You shrieked in pain. You could quite literally feel his nails penetrate your skin. That didn’t stop you though, you couldn’t care less about anything other than cumming. Your mind became foggy and filled with a certain haze. “Mm. Keep going. Dnt stop.”, Those words left Satoru’s mouth, his thrusts were sloppy and no longer had rhythm. His fingers found their way to your clit and played with you to make sure you came before him. Your moans filled the room as you were so close. You stopped as you finally reached the bliss you been begging for, panting heavily trying to regain the breath you once had. The feeling of warm liquid filling you was a slap in the face. You soon realized you didn’t use protection. You looked down at Satoru whose eyes were closed with a smile of his face. “Oops, m’sorry i’ll get you a Plan B in the morning.” His hand gripped your ass while you sat there in disbelief. How could you fuck up this bad? You smiled as you seen him cover his face once again, “Don’t worry about it. I have some in the bathroom.”. You got off of him and made your way to the bathroom.

When you came back you saw sleeping Satoru, under your sheets wrapped around your blanket. It was a cute sight to see him so vulnerable, you were about to fuck up his life. You crawled into bed next to him, cuddling him. He turned around and placed his head between your breast, his arm wrapped around your lower back pulling you close. You took out your phone and took a couple of pictures. This bitch was gonna know “Fuck my man, I fuck your brother.”. You unblocked her number to send her a little treat. “When Satoru comes home tomorrow tell him I had a wonderful time. (3 attachments sent).”.

You turned off your phone and cuddled the sleeping boy, kissing his forehead and cheeks. “Mm, she's gonna fuck you up when you get home.” You whispered in his ear. His phone was soon blowing up, From his mom and sister. “I don't care, you don't know how long I've been waiting to fuck you.” He muttered under his breath. You laughed, He wasn’t going anywhere. Not just yet.

#gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk satoru #satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #kinktober

[myfairkatiecat]

Voice - a Keefe Sencen Poem

@justmossyall @phtalogreenpoison @justalunaticfangirl @fandom-mind-dump @whentheleavesfallfromtheoak-blog @lilliesandlight @permanently-stressed

I use my voice.

I use it for more than speaking.

“He’s a good kid,” they say,

“A smart kid—I wonder why he’s acting out”

I don’t want them to wonder

so I talk.

Joke, mock, quip, disrupt—

they don’t wonder

the expectations evaporate.

I feel lighter.

That is the power of my voice.

I use my voice

because if I make people listen

then they won’t look.

If I give them enough to hear

they won’t feel the need to see

and so I hide in plain sight.

I talk to cover what I want to be overlooked

I draw attention to myself

in the ways I want it

to avert attention

from the things I don’t want to be seen.

That is the power of my voice.

But sometimes my voice doesn’t work

Because sometimes, people care

And when people care

they look even when they can listen

and no matter how much they’ve heard

they still want to see

and what could be a worse time

than now?

when my defenses are weakest

quietest

and my feelings are loudest

and I know your feelings

and I can tell

somehow

you know mine.

When nothing that I know is true

it all comes back to you

and wide brown eyes

and a far from easy life

and a kind of sympathy

no one has ever had

And I wonder

is there something about humanity

that is truly beautiful in that way?

Something more of us

would be blessed to experience

and never will?

The gaze of a person

who understands

having lost every role model

or even every person I ever told myself

I didn’t care about

(even when I did)

and without having lost all those things

the understanding gaze

is not empty

but full of understanding

The understanding is warm

but terrifying

because

it isn’t something I chose

my voice won’t work

why won’t it work?

where are my defenses?

if I can’t hide

I have no choice

but

to run.

I know that you hate me.

Please don’t be afraid of me.

I hope that I’m right.

I know that I’m wrong.

You don’t think you can forgive me.

You shouldn’t forgive me.

You will forgive me.

I know you will forgive me

and I want you to forgive me.

You shouldn’t forgive me.

I use my voice

but things are different now

and so much has changed

and so much has happened

and I have been forgiven too many times

but when I am hurting, I hurt

without even wanting to.

I talk

I talk myself out

I talk and talk and talk

until my vocal chords hurt

I crack jokes

whenever I can

to prove I haven’t changed.

That is the power of my voice.

Until I have changed.

The world is dark.

Just for a bit.

I don’t use my voice.

Every whisper that builds inside of me

is proof that I have irrevocably changed

It was my actions that caused hurt

and my words that brought me back.

But if my voice can cause hurt

and my actions are what they always are

(the awful things I cannot seem to stop doing)

then what is there

left to me

that is worth loving?

(I wish you wouldn’t look at me

like I deserve the world

when no one knows better than you

how little I deserve.)

I feel powerless to stop myself

from causing the worst kind of hurt.

Pain helps.

A little.

But not enough.

That is the power of my voice.

I don’t use my voice

but I still am surrounded

by the people my voice could hurt.

Without my voice

every semblance of normalcy

is gone.

I have changed.

(She changed me.)

I have no defenses

everything has fallen

and I can’t hide

even from myself

and I certainly can’t hide behind my voice

and I know how much you’ll hate me

and I know I’m so redundant

and I know that this point

I’m almost painfully predictable—

but I have no choice

but

to run.

That is the power of my voice.

#I sincerely hope this hurt #because it hurt me while I was writing it #:) #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen #kotlc poetry #poetry

[daydreams-after-dark]

After Dark Master List

all stories are nsfw / 18+

↠Han Jisung↞

Hannie wants to play with your ass but you’ve never done this before.

Back in Ten: soft dom CEO Jisung wants you to wear a strap and fuck his ass, after an important function.

Jisung Kinks // after dark hard thoughts

If Han was as small as a barbie doll

fem!Hannie freaky roller skater girl

Drabble: Can I watch you, Sungie?: posted on my main blog. You come home from work early to find Jisung on your bed fucking himself with a dildo.

↠Minho↞

Stop Lift Button your work colleague Minho has moved into your apartment. What happens when he jumps in the lift with you.

Star Student Part 1: Pairing: professor/teacher Minho x adult female reader. You put on a show for your hot Professor while he’s trying to teach a class. (This is an adult classroom situation.) (5 min approx read)

Star Student Part 2: Pairing: professor/teacher Minho x adult female reader. Professor Minho makes you stay after class to fix the problem you caused.

Show Mommy: Lee Know dressed as Aunt Lina was doing things to you as you watched him on set. But what happens when you are invited to an after party and accidentally end up in Lee Know's room, and he's still in costume?

Billionaire Lee Minho and his Little Plaything You're at billionaire Lee Minho's extravagant party at some fancy historical manor, where unbeknownst to you he want to make you his "Plaything". Before you know what's happening you find yourself in a room with Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. Minho has plans for you but he doesn't know you can play games too. Pairing: Lee Know x fem reader, Changbin x fem reader, Hyunjin x fem reader. Word count: 8k approx

Submission: Lee Minho x fem reader. You're billionaire Lee Minho's "plaything", but tonight the tables have turned and he let's you dom him. Approx word count: 3.4k

↠Minsung / Minsung x reader↞

Minsung Saves the Day Minsung x fem reader (5 minute read) You've just been fingered to the brink of orgasm by Chan and Hyunjin in the back of a car, whilst Minho and Seungmin sit up front. Now you've arrived at the club and there's only one thing on your mind.

Behind the Curtain: mean!Han x bratty!reader + helpful!Minho. You tease your boyfriend Han before a show and he's not happy. So he punishes you, leaves you in a needy mess, and sends Minho to look for you. What happens when Minho can't resist your needs?

Kidnapper Clowns: clown!jisung x fem reader + Minho (5 minute read). dark smut // reader is "kidnapped" and tied up in the basement of two men in clown masks. Everything is planned/consensual.

Pretty Little Kitties: Jisung x reader x Minho. Jisung buys you and him matching kitten ears and tails. Minho joins in.

The window across the street: Han x fem aunty Lina x fem reader.

↠3Racha↞

We’ll make it fit: 3Racha Chan x Changbin x reader w/han for 2secs. They want to use her like their little toy. Dp.

3 racha c^m dump: Han asks you to meet him in the corridor at the bar. Bartender Chan and Security Guard Changbin join in.

↠Other Members / Mixed pairings↞

Blindfolds: chan x Minho x reader. Your bf helps you fulfill your fantasy of being fucked by a stranger.

If skz worked at an adult shop what would each member recommend?

Let Daddy Take Care of it chan x hyunjin x fem reader (5 min read) Fem!reader is horny on the way to the club. Chan and Hyunjin help her out with their fingers in the backseat of the car.

After Hours: Felix; personal assistant | You; Corporate Boss. You're a corporate boss, he is your personal assistant. You're his boss by day, but after hours his soft dom side gets you weak.

Sweet Sweet Punishment: Bratty Han convinces you to let him go down on you without permission from Chan and Lino. They punish you both in front of everyone when they get home. features ot8.

Little Deaths (posted on my main blog) ot8 x reader. You’re stranded at a mansion where 8 horny ghosts must pleasure you.

↠Fem!skz Universe↞

↪ Enter here

#daydreams-after-dark-masterlist

[corruptedspeaker]

Need some advice?

Steven Universe x Mom!reader (platonic)

It was just so frustrating! Everything was always dumped onto him, the trauma, the unbearable and out of control emotions seemed to be eating him up from the inside- almost like he was drowning and no one was there to fully understand and help him. It seemed as though no matter how hard he tried to reach out no one knew how to help. Being dumped with so much trauma at a young age took a really bad toll on his body and mind. He just really wanted to clear his head at this point- since Connie was busy with her studies, his dad was busy and the gems were busy with other gems.

He should take a walk on the broadwalk or whatever, he could maybe get a bite to eat or see if anyone was around to chat or maybe hang out with him to just distract him and kill time. Maybe he could go to Funland and at least he could try to experience some sort of feeling.

Gosh! It just seemed SO- empty with no one he knew that was around anymore! It was so weird to see everyone grow apart and he- he was practically trying to rip his hair out of his scalp.

" Hey! (Child name 1) do not hit your brother! "

That's when he heard someone's voice yelling at something and he couldn't help but look up to see you. You were seated on one of the benches looking towards the ocean, your sun hat protecting you from the heat while your sunglasses rested on top of the hat/you had your glasses on your face. You seemed to have a magazine or book on your lap, too many bags to count on your side with one filled with toys and one filled with snacks and water bottles and juices.

Steven had never seen you around before in beach city ever before- you were probably a tourist or you had recently moved in. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother would have done the same, if she would have taken him to the beach with his dad and watch him play in the sand, would he have a younger brother or sister? Would things have been easier for him?

Just the thoughts swirling around in his mind made him flare in anger, his gem buzzed as his body contorted and he started glowing pink. He could feel his head pounding in his ears, it hurt -- why couldn't things just have turned differently? Why couldn't he just have something better?! Why couldn't everyone stay and why--

" Hey kid! "

Steven looked up, his eyes darting around until his eyes finally landed on you. You were waving at him, beckoning him to come over and to which he did. He couldn't help but be rather embarrassed- he didn't want his first impression to be you meeting him having a meltdown.

" You okay? You seemed to be pink- and I mean you are literally pink right now. "

You had pointed out, your body faced towards him.

" I have some headache pills, don't know if they'll work on people turning pink though. "

Steven looked at you laughing at your own joke and he couldn't help but smile a bit to try and ease the tension. The pink glow seemed to fade away as he relaxed, he could seriously use that pill though, his head was basically killing him.

" I wouldn't mind it- if you have one and if I'm not going to waste it y'know? "

He couldn't help but ramble on, he was just rather nervous as he basked in your motherly aura. It felt so nice he just couldn't help but panic.

He watched you pull out your hand bag/back pack (idk) as you fished out that tinfoil pill holder thing?? Y'know and popped two out, - you held your hand out and he took it slowly, almost like he was scared of touching you.

" I don't bite, it's okay. Would you like water or juice with that? "

" Water will be fine, thank you.. "

Steven took the water bottle from you and he popped the medicine in his mouth and drank that water up.

" It's (y/n), nice to meet you Steven Universe. "

" You know my name? "

Steven couldn't help but stare at you in some sort of shock and confusion.

" Yeah I did my research before coming here, I heard all about you and there was some strange blog called "Keep Beach City weird" it was a real good read. "

So you were just a tourist, maybe you were on holiday or something and just chose Beach City at the worst possible time ever.

" So, where do you come from? "

He couldn't help but ask, he just seemed so intrigued with you. You went out of your way to help him.

" Oh I'm from state/overseas country, just out for a holiday. Needed to get away from the same routine and get out, showing the kids other places. "

You told him more about where you came from, he relaxed at the sound of your voice and the way you explained things with your hands to add more to your stories.

" Hey- sorry Steven-- (child name 2) stop chasing your older sister with the dead crab, do not make me come over there! "

You shouted at your kids and you were correct, it seemed the younger brother was chasing around their older sibling with what seemed like a dead crab, causing them to cry and squeal for them to stop.

" Sorry Steven, kids are a lot and they always have to get on each other's nerves. "

You replied and Steven just laughed nervously, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness when he saw the relationship between you and your kids.. What he would do to have just a moment like this with his mom to at least feel something like this.

" I know I shouldn't pry into anyone's business, but are you okay? "

Your voice snapped him out of his trance and he looked into your eyes.

" It's just-- really complicated at the moment. "

" You can always talk to me, I know nothing about your situation but it'll help to get it off your chest. It's not really good to bottle up your emotions. "

And that's when he just let everything out, he went on and on about every detail, every mission, every horrific thing and every good and bad memory and you listened to him.

He finished after finally catching you up on everything and he felt you holding his hand, he looked up into your eyes once more and he just froze.

" Listen Steven, Im sorry about what happened and no child should have gone through that. You've always been helping other people and putting yourself at risk but- when was the last time you did something for you-- yourself? Why don't you maybe just get away from everything and clear your head a bit? That's why we're here in the first place. "

Steven couldn't help but nod at your words, he had no words as your thumb stroked the top of his hand in a comforting way.

" Have you ever been to a therapist or someone you can talk to? I'd definitely recommend seeing someone to at least get a lot of things off your chest and they can maybe help with some coping skills for you, I know a few how could help. "

It felt like a rush of regret, maybe telling you wasn't the best idea- the thought of seeing a doctor again sort of terrified him after what happened with Connie's mom.

" You don't have to if you don't want to--! "

Steven watched you blurt out, you were really good at reading him but he just stayed silent and watched the waves crash against the sand, your kids building lopsided sandcastles and digging holes.

It was strange.

You let go of his hand and whisked out your phone, scrolling away until you turned to him.

" I'll be one call away if you ever need help with anything. "

Steven entered his number and watched as you smiled, it was strange how you two easily got along.

" I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you (y/n) and I'll definitely think about that call, alright? "

Steven laughed nervously and stood up, holding his hand out for a handshake but you pulled him into a quick embrace and sent him off.

Steven continued his walk, walking around town replaying that whole interaction over and over again. It was awfully strange to him that a complete stranger wanted to help him out that much, was he also like that when he was younger?

It was nice though.

Notes : I am a complete amateur at writing- English is also not my first language so I'm sorry if anything is wrong and I just wanted to say thank you for reading!! It really means a lot and any constructive criticism is welcomed!

#steven universe #pink steven #platonic steven universe #steven universe x reader #second fanfic #aaaaaaa

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

The Princess and the Duke: Chapter 3.5 My Kink is Karma [MDKT23 day 21]

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.  Specific Warnings: Daddy Kink, Sex Work, Cam work, Infidelity, Step-Cest, Dave York(he always needs his own warning), Possessive!Dave, Men being sexist dicks on the internet, choking, degradation, rough sex, rough oral sex, exhibitionism. Let me know if I missed anything! Graphic made by me, no use of Y/N.

[Ao3 link]

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

You rouse to the soft press of lips on your temple, just below your hairline. You lean up to chase the kiss, mind blank as you don’t even question who it is. The broad arms around you tighten as you stir, you feel the hard press of an erection against your thigh, and you whimper as your lips brush against one another.

“David?”

The sound of your mother calling down the stairs jolts you fully awake your eyes go wide as you look up into the equally mortified face of Dave York, your fucking stepdad. You fly apart like you’d touched a live wire; stumbling to your feet as your mom reaches the bottom of the stairs.

“David, Reznik is on the phone, says there’s an emerg-!”

Your mother stops dead as she sees you, the both of you. Dave’s face is flushed and there’s no hiding the bulge straining against his sweatpants. You know you’re looking just as flustered, if not more so.

“One of you needs to explain what the fuck I just walked in on.”

Her face is thunderous as she looks pointedly at Dave, a silent challenge being laid down at his feet.

“Honey, nothing happened, we fell asleep on the sofa together-,”

“And that was enough for you to get a raging hard on?”

Dave looks away, fists curling and uncurling in what you can only guess is mortified anger. He doesn’t say another word, his jaw ticked to the side. You can’t keep letting her walk all over him like this.

“Mom, it was my fault, I was feeling vulnerable, I just needed some company.” You plead as you try to keep the anger out of your voice. You round the couch, putting yourself between your mom and Dave, maybe it was too forward, but you weren’t just going to stand here and let him take the heat.

“Oh sweetie, this isn’t on you, you don’t have to lie to defend him.”

“Defend him? Nothing. Happened.” You scoff incredulously as you watch your mom dump yet another sin onto her husband’s head. It would be laughable if you weren’t furious.

“If you say so,” Your mom cups your cheeks and you wince as pain jolts through your nose, “Oh Sweetie, what happened?”

“I’m fine, I ran into an asshole last night at the bar, it’s nothing.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have come and helped!”

“Would you have even been sober enough to drive?” You snap, pulling your mom’s hands away from your face.

“I-,” Your mom stutters and you watch as she tries to answer, but she can’t.

“That’s what I thought.” You spit as you push past her.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to sleep.”

You storm up the stairs, tears burning in the corners of your eyes as you once again feel like a teenager, parenting your mom like always. But the difference here is that you can actually tolerate Dave, and you aren’t defending your mom for once.

You more than tolerate him.

You think morbidly to yourself as you hear the bickering begin. You try to tune it out but what you do catch makes your blood run cold.

“Don’t forget about our fucking prenup, you so much as look at her again I’m taking everything from you.”

You force yourself to keep walking, straight to your room, your heart racing so fast you think it might burst from your chest. You close the door and turn the lock as you lean back against it.

You had no idea they had a prenup, and the way your mom lauded it over him like a threat made you sick to your stomach. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Prenup.

You feel like you’re going to throw up when you think about the prenup your mom asked you to draft for her friend Danielle. You’d done it as a favour to your mom, it was one of your proudest moments, it was airtight and you had pitied the man who agreed to it.

You pull out your phone and put it on charge as you turn on your PC. You bring up your mom’s social media and trawl through the many Danielle’s she has on her friends list. You eventually find her, Danielle Pierce. You check her relationship status: Single

You shrug, sometimes marriages fall apart, especially when a prenup as tightly wound as you wrote it was involved. But you’re still not convinced, you look through the public posts and you can’t see any evidence of a marriage at all.

You pull up your documents and thank your meticulous organisational compulsions as it takes you less time to find the prenup than it did to find Danielle’s profile. You click through and open up the document and the moment you see the agreeing parties’ names your blood runs cold. You’d forgotten that your mom had changed her surname after she split with your dad. And there it is.

Nancy Cummings. Dave York.

You reel in horror as you check the history of the document. The last date changed was around a week after you’d sent the link to your mom. You clamp your hand over your mouth aggressively, your lips pressed against your teeth as you see the last amended by stamp.

Nancy Cummings.

~*~

“Honey? I’m home!”

Dave calls from the front door as he shucks off his dress shoes, hoping beyond hope that his wife was home and his stepdaughter – you – were not. But silence is all that greets him, neither of you it seems are home. He sighs to himself and heads straight for his basement, or his man cave as your mom calls it.

He descends the stairs slowly, fatigue making his body sag, frustration making his neck ache from strain. He’s been gone two weeks on a business trip in Hawaii, to you and your mom, it was some tax scandal for a congressional race in Arizona. In reality, it was a hit on some one-percenter who had fallen on the wrong side of a cartel.

Money can’t buy sense.

He thinks to himself as he throws his suit jacket and briefcase down on the tan, L-shaped sofa in the middle of the basement. He flicks on the TV to check the news and as expected, his hit was on every channel. He smiles morbidly to himself at his anonymous infamy. He groans and stretches as he looks around the bare, dark wood panelled walls, he really needs to remember to decorate this space someday.

The TV runs as background noise as Dave steps into the small office to the right of the basement. He strips bare, his clothes pooling at his feet as he locks the door behind him. This room is more his own, a double bed with crisp white sheets dominates the room. A desk and computer with multiple monitors squeezed into the right side of the room, and a door leading to his ensuite. A small dresser acts as a nightstand wedged between the wall and the bed.

The small space comforts him, one door in, one door out. No windows, no surprises. He lets out a long, heavy sigh of relief as he lets himself relax for the first time since he left two weeks ago. Dave pads into the bathroom and showers, brushes his teeth, and shaves the two weeks of stubble from his face.

Suitably refreshed he throws on a pair of sweatpants and flops down into his leather office chair. He wakes his computer from sleep and pulls up his VPN, scrambling his IP manually before logging into a private browser. Some of it is habit, some part of it is to make sure his wife never sees his browsing history. He doesn’t bother with headphones, no-one is home, and he probably won’t last long anyway.

He almost feels ashamed, sneaking around like a teenager, but when your mom refuses to so much as touch Dave when you’re around, he feels like he has no other choice. The video starts and the streamer is nowhere to be seen, her usual purple sheets are made neatly, her blackout curtains drawn as always. But there’s something new, something that Dave feels uneasy about.

A string of bumblebee fairy lights; hung over her headboard. Double layered in a rainbow of colours that pulse and fade like fireflies in the Summer. Something about it is too familiar, something he feels like he should recognise. He shakes himself out of it, turning to the comments to smirk at their desperation as the stream officially starts with her usual greeting.

“Hey there Daddies, you miss me?” The sweet lilt of his favourite OnlyFans streamer, Princess Luna, is like music to his ears as he feels his cock hardening before she’s even on screen. Comments flash up in the live chat straight away, and Dave chuckles to himself.

He never comments, he just subscribes on his private credit card, tips generously, and almost never misses a stream. Especially when it’s her. He feels superior to the others, never begging for attention, just admiring her in a way he feels no-one else can. He knows he’s being more than a little delusional, but he doesn’t care.

Moments like this, he can forget about how miserable his marriage is.

ImUrDaddy: Oh baby where’ve you been? Daddy’s cock has missed you.

StepDadz129: Fuck Princess, come on let us see you. Daddy needs you.

PDaddy1$: Stop teasing me Luna darlin’, show me that tight little cunt.

The messages keep on coming but Dave isn’t looking anymore, all he sees is Luna sliding into view. As always, Luna’s face is covered with an elaborate masquerade mask. This one is a deep burgundy with black lace forming a veil over her mouth, with gold filigree in swirling baroque floral patterns around her eyes giving her a mystical air.

Her dark red lace panties and bra compliment the mask as she settles on her knees in the middle of her bed. He slips his cock out of his sweatpants and takes himself in one hand, sliding over the soft foreskin languidly as he takes in her breasts. Salivating at the way they swell over her lacy cups, begging to be freed.

“I’ve missed you Daddy, been so tense these last few days, missing my step daddy so much.” She continues and Dave groans audibly at the taboo pet name, his cock already fully hard.

“He’s been away for two whole weeks, and all I want is him to stuff me full of his fat cock until he spills his load in me.”  

Dave tries to push the nagging feeling in his mind away, something is off, but he grits his teeth as he focuses on the beautiful woman on screen, her hands already pulling her lacy bra down over her pert nipples. He slowly pumps his cock, desperate for release but he’s not going to let himself go. Not yet. The shows only just begun.

~*~

A knock at the front door startles you, your two fingers are deep inside you as the stream begins to heat up.

“Shit,” You curse to yourself and quickly spring up from the bed, “Sorry Daddy, I’ll be right back.”

You hear the comment notifications go wild in your wake and you silently bless whatever distraction has come up. Your viewers are going to be so thirsty for you once you get back. You shoulder on a black silk robe embroidered with white cranes and loosely tie it around you.

You hurry down the stairs, eyes glued to your phone where you watch the comments come in on the stream.

Pdaddy1$: Baby! Come back you were doing so good for me!

ImUrDaddy: Aw baby don’t be a brat, I know there’s no-one there!

StepDadz129: Bitch!

You roll your eyes, clicking the mute button on the one comment before you hop down the bottom step. You check yourself out in the hall mirror for good measure, modest enough to answer the door but slutty enough to raise an eyebrow. You grin triumphantly and open the door wide, clinging to the edge of the door to greet them.

~*~

Rage courses through Dave’s veins as he sees the slew of abuse popping up on the chat the moment Luna disappears. He hates it when the entitled pricks come out to play.

His head snaps towards the basement stairs when he hears the sound of someone in the hall upstairs. Immediately Dave switches into work mode, ripping the desk drawer almost off the runners as he snatches up his pistol. He snaps in a mag and stuffs his achingly hard cock back into his pants.

He stalks back up the basement stairs, breathing slow, regulating his heartbeat as he prepares to face the intruder. He cracks the basement door open and sighs with relief as he quickly flicks the safety on his gun before stowing it in the back of his waistband.

It’s just you.

He thinks to himself as he eyes you from behind, the basement door has a perfect view to the front door, and more importantly your bare legs. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the silk robe hugging your curves so beautifully. He hears your flirtatious giggle and if he wasn’t already hard, he knows he would be just at the sound of it.

Get it together, that’s your stepdaughter.

He scolds himself internally, but thinking it only makes him ache more. Isn’t that exactly what he was just watching on OnlyFans? He shakes himself out of his dark thoughts just as you finish signing for the parcel.

“Thanks dude, have a great day!” You call to the delivery driver and Dave makes his exit hastily. He closes the door without a sound and creeps back down to the basement.

Only once he’s back in his chair, watching abusive comments piling up in the live chat does he let out the breath he’s been holding. He stows his gun once more and waits for Luna to return.

She steps back into view with her phone in hand, black robe with embroidered white cranes on the hem. She’s texting in earnest before throwing the phone back down on the bed. A notification comes through on Dave’s phone and if he wasn’t already joining the dots the confirmation makes him almost come in his pants. The text comes through, from you.

Hey Dave, package for you on the kitchen counter, can’t wait to see you later! Xx

His heart is in his throat, surely it has to be a coincidence, some fucked up twist of fate. That can’t be you? You can’t be Princess Luna, surely?

“Sorry Daddy, a parcel came for you, left it on the kitchen counter for you.”

Then he hears it clear as day, you alter your voice a little, maybe you use software, or are just that fucking good an actress. He honestly can’t tell.

But the moment the robe drops from Luna’s shoulders he just knows.

“It’s you.”  

~*~

“So where were we Daddy?”

You ask to the webcam, mask secured, and panties pulled to the side, aimed directly at the professional camera you have mounted on your desk. You pull your phone back up to check the messages once more.

A litany of abuse for leaving too soon from your lowest tier supporters, typical. You have to have thick skin in this line of work, so you just mute a few before a familiar username pops up. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, it’s your favourite customer. The faceless, voiceless patron of your works that simply pays your highest tier, tips often, and not once has he given you abuse.

DukeSilver09: Hey there hon, don’t listen to these pricks, you’re doing a great job for me Princess.

Your cheeks heat up at his kindness and for the first time, you’re not just getting off to your own fantasies.

“What’s your story then Duke Silver? Fan of Parks and Rec?”

DukeSilver09: Yeah, my stepdaughter recommended it to me for when I’m travelling.

Your brows furrow for a second, your thoughts spring to thoughts of Dave.

“Good taste, you fuck her yet Duke?”

You feel your orgasm building as you work a third finger inside you, rubbing your clit frantically as you imagine it’s Dave on the other end of this conversation. God, you wish. All you’ve wanted since they got married last year was to get him in your bed.

A girl can dream.

DukeSilver09: Not yet, but I think I’m about to get lucky.

“Good for you Duke, fuck her like the good little girl she is.”

You’re vaguely aware of the other men in the chat, some loving this interaction between you, some jealous, some angry, but you don’t care. All you care about is this stranger bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

~*~

Dave

Unbeknownst to you, Dave is leaning against the wall opposite your bedroom, waiting, phone in hand as he continues to watch you. He has headphones in to make sure he can still hear you without alerting suspicion. Dave types out a reply instantly.

DukeSilver09: She’s no angel, trust me, I know she’s filthy. I see the way she fucks me with her eyes at dinner.

Dave watches as you convulse on the bed, fingers working into your wet pussy, the squelching almost audible through the door. But maybe that was just his imagination running wild.

“Oh fuck, yeah? Well make sure to make her pay for being such a slut, sounds like she deserves to be punished.”

He groans aloud at that, and you freeze on the screen, Dave curses under his breath as he clamps his mouth shut.

This was stupid, fuck get out of there.

“Daddy?”

Dave looks down at the screen and sees that the livestream is muted, the sound hadn’t come from his headphones. He looks up and watches in disbelief as you open the door, robe on, mask off. Looking at him with a knowing look that would make even the toughest man flinch.

But Dave’s no ordinary man.

~*~

You

Dave stands there for a moment, frozen in place, but his face is anything but shocked. His one eyebrow is cocked, his plump lips curved up into a smirk, making his cheek dimple.

“Hey there Princess, what’re you doing in there? Got a guy over? You know how your mom feels about you having the door shut if you have visitors.”

“Nope, no-one here but me, Da- Dave.” You falter, already the taboo falling too easily from your lips.

It can’t have been him? Surely not, this is just some fucking weird coincidence, right?

“Then you won’t mind if I come in? Check on those fairy lights?”

“I don’t think-!” You start but Dave has already crowded past you, you suddenly realise he’s only got sweatpants on, his body heat rolls off onto you as you take in the painfully obvious erection straining against his pants.

“Well, well, this is what you’ve been up to.”

Dave purrs, picking up the mask you were just wearing, turning it around in his deft fingertips as he looks at the livestream. He’s just out of camera-shot as he grins at you wickedly.

“Dave please, don’t tell mom.”

“About which bit?”

You give Dave a confused look, breathing becoming laboured as panic sets in.

“What do you mean?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper at this point, and you feel compelled to shut the door behind you.

“What don’t you want me to tell her?” He asks, one long stride and he’s got you backed against the door, his free hand circles your neck, gently, a promise more than a threat, “That you’re whoring yourself out to dirty old men online?”

“Dave please, I can-!”

“Or that you’ve been waiting for me to stuff you full of my fat cock until I spill my load inside you?”

Your brain short circuits as you realise it is him, there’s no doubt now, he’s been watching you for months.

Did he know it was me?

“Dave please, it was all for show, I promise.”

Dave clicks his tongue in disappointment, but his hand tightens around your throat as he uses his thumb to nudge your jaw to the side. He leans in, pressing his rock hard, aching dick against your bare stomach as he rubs his cheek against yours.

“You sure honey? Because I’d be mighty disappointed if that was the truth.”

You moan, the sound escaping you before you can even think to stop it, you roll your hips up against him and wrap your arms around his neck before turning to face him. Your noses press against one another as you look up through your lashes into his hooded, lust-drunk eyes.

“You mean it Daddy?” You breathe as you brush your lips against his, your whole body vibrating with arousal as his breath fans against your skin, foreheads pressed together as you try your hardest to hold back.

“‘Course sweetheart, how could I not? You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“But what about-?” You begin to protest, and whatever you were about to say is lost as Dave’s lips crash into yours.

His free hand drops the mask before pinning your hip to the door. His broad hand sears against your skin as he grinds down into you. You moan into his mouth, giving him access before he even asks, letting him lick into your mouth with a hunger you’ve never known from a partner.

He dominates you, claims your mouth in a ravenous need that has you whimpering as you spread your legs for him, hitching an ankle around his leg, pulling him in closer as you run your fingers through his hair. You tug firmly and the growl he makes almost has you coming right there and then.

“Dave the stream.” You pant as you both come up for air, but a darkness falls over his vision. You already know what he’s going to ask before he says a word.

“You got another mask I can borrow?”

Your stomach flutters as you realise what he’s suggesting. You’re about to fuck Dave for the first time, on live stream for fucks sake. Your viewers are going to fucking love it.

“Stay here.” You breathe against his lips, taking control for a second and your heart flutters as Dave’s eyebrow raises in amusement. You’re filing that reaction away for later.

You bend over, making sure to brush up against Dave’s rock-hard bulge as you do, and pick up your mask, re-seating it before heading back into view of the livestream. The sound of comments firing in the background makes your stomach flutter in anticipation. You rifle under your bed for your box of props.

“Here you go Daddy.” You purr as you prance back to the doorway.

“Fuck.” Dave rasps as he twitches in his pants. He puts the black and gold mask on, smirking down at you as you bite your lip at him.

“Follow my lead, yeah?”

“Sure baby, it’s your show.”

You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. It’s an oddly intimate act and you almost regret doing it until you see the lazy smile spread across Dave’s lips.

You turn to go back to your stream and before you’re even back in shot you feel the sharp slap of Dave’s palm on your ass and you yelp. You look back with a playful look as you roll your eyes at him.

“Hey there Daddies,” You say with a soft, sing-song lilt to your voice, “Sorry about that, I almost got busted! Daddy came home and I had to pretend to be a good little girl.”

You chuckle giddily as you watch the comments flood back in, all positive, begging for you to continue.

The violent banging on your door startles you and you yelp.

“Luna what the fuck are you doing in there?” Dave roars, loud enough for your viewers to hear and the comments go absolutely wild.

“I’m not dressed please don’t come in!” You feign as much panic as you can, pretending to fumble with the computer controls.

“You got a boy in there? I’ll fucking kill him.” Dave roars as he rips the door open. You stand up and clutch your discarded robe against your chest.

“Please, it’s not what it looks like, please don’t tell mom.” You mimic your terrified tone from earlier but both of you now know it’s just an act.

“What the fuck?”

Dave steps into view and you all but whimper as you see the murderous look in his dark eyes. He looks from you to the computer, and back again. His chest heaves and you take a step back, you’re not sure if you planned to or not but the intensity is more than you expected.

“Please, let’s just talk about this.”  

You plead as he crosses the short distance to grab you by the throat, harder than before and you audibly gasp as he takes off his mask. You watch as his eyes scan the stream, making sure he’s only visible from the neck down.

“You wear these fancy masks to hide your whoring from the world huh? Give me one, I’m not about to get caught fucking you on some sick little porno site.”

You make a show of turning to the camera, lace-covered breasts front and centre as you pretend to grab something from the shelf behind. You turn and tilt up onto your tiptoes to replace the mask on Dave’s face. You pout a little. As much as you know it’s necessary, you want to see him, all of him, when he fucks you.

“Good girl, now,” He growls, shoving past you to sit on the end of the bed, “Convince me not to tell your mom, show me if you’re good enough to keep a secret for.”

He’s a fucking natural, lined up perfectly in shot so that you can sink onto your knees in front of him. The notifications are going wild, the cheesy sound bite of a cash register opening and closing as your fans tip you firing faster than you’ve ever known.

“What if it’s too big, Daddy?”

“You’ll make it fit Princess, I know you will.”

You nod slowly and peel down the waistband of his pants and gasp at the sight of him. He’s uncut, thick, and a nice size. A Goldilocks dick, not too big, not too small. You salivate at the sight of him and look up to see his hungry gaze locked on you.

You pull his foreskin back gently and mewl at the sight of his pre-come smeared over his angry red tip. You lap gently at the mess and hum at the salty, bitter taste of his come.

“Good fucking girl, knew you’d be good at sucking dick, bet you’ve had hundreds of cocks stuffed down your throat.”

“Nuh-uh,” You say loud enough for the microphone to pick up, “Only you Daddy.” His dick twitches wildly at that and he looks down at you in shock, you see the real fear of this being your first-time flash behind his eyes and you subtly shake your head. He narrows his eyes and nods imperceptibly in understanding.

“Fuck, been saving yourself for me Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

You punctuate it with a short, wet suck of his exposed tip and he groans, fisting one hand in your hair, shifting slightly on the bed angling it so that the stream can just see your profile as you suckle on his tip.

“See fellas, this is what you get when you’re nice to her.”

You whimper and feel the slick dripping down your legs as you sink lower onto Dave’s gorgeous cock. It’s so smooth, his foreskin making it a dream to sink down onto. He hisses as your lips and nose press into his pubic hair.

“Good fucking girl.” His voice is ragged, and you look up to see his plush lips parted, veins in his neck bulging. You bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks out as you flick your tongue against his head every time you come back up his shaft.

“She’s got such a fucking pretty little mouth, don’t you think?”

He shifts on the bed again until he’s standing, you have to sit up on your knees to keep him in your mouth. His face is out of shot, and he looks down at you with care in his eyes. He mouths down a “You ok?” At you and you smile, nodding as you take him deep.

“Shit, look at you.”

Dave’s Hand in your hair becomes possessive as he rolls his hips slowly into your mouth, you gag a little and tears spill from your eyes as you try your hardest to keep it together.

“Doing so well for me baby, making Daddy feel so good.”

You whine at the praise and his willingness to call himself daddy. He lets you take his cock for a little longer before he rips you off with a snarl.

“Need to fill that little pussy up, c’mere.”

Dave pulls you up into his arms and kisses you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on you with a moan as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sits down on the edge of the bed once more before turning you in his lap, his cock sliding between your clothed folds as he holds your back flush against his chest. One hand is wrapped around your throat as his other trails down your body to your soaked panties.

“You been saving this for me too?”

He slowly peels them away to the side, exposing your wet heat. You arch your back as he glides two thick fingers through your folds. It feels so much better than you could have imagined. His calloused pads rake through you, teasing at your hole before gliding back up to your clit, rubbing slow, intense circles around your swollen bud.

“Yes Daddy, want you to be the only one, want you inside me. Daddy, please?”

You squirm in his lap, rocking your hips so you coat his length with your slick as it glides through your lips.

“Slow down baby, not going to last if you keep doing that.” He whispers in your ear, chuckling slightly as he nips a warning into your neck. You hum and slow down, but you don’t stop.

“Please Daddy, can’t wait any more, need you.”

It’s only half an act. You’ve dreamt of this for months, desperate to have him. You watch how your mother spurns him, how she hides her phone when he’s around. You know she’s not being good to him.

“As you asked so nicely.”

You’re caught off guard as he notches himself at your core and with one hand on your hip, the other tight around your throat, he drags you down onto his cock.

You cry out in ecstasy as you feel every inch of him pressing into you, every ridge and vein as he forces you down to the base. You’re grateful that you worked yourself open with three fingers earlier or this would have been way too much.

“Look at that baby,” Dave hums against your skin, looking into the camera over your shoulder as he tilts your head down to look at the screen, “Look at how pretty you look all stretched out on my cock.”

You pant heavily as you get used to his girth, it’s blinding. You’ve never had someone fill you just right like this, like you were made to be split open by him. You whine impatiently and a hard slap comes down on your right ass cheek. Dave’s cock twitches up into you as you yelp and mewl at the painful pleasure rocking through you.

“Naughty girl, so eager to get fucked, what would your mother say if she could see you like this?”

Dave taunts you as he moves both hands to your hips, pulling you further back into the bed so he can brace his feet on the sheets, holding you up for the camera to see you suspended above him. You know it’s for show, you know it’s all a fantasy, but in that moment, you lose yourself to Dave.

“Touch yourself baby, need you to milk this fat dick until you’re full of me, y’hear me?”

“Yes Daddy, want you to fill me up, fuck your cum deep into me.”

“Good fucking girl.”

Dave snaps up into you without warning, his pace brutal as he fucks you just right, kissing your g-spot with the head of his cock as you swirl your fingers aggressively around your clit. You feel your release building like a crescendo. The symphony of Dave’s hungry, aggressive grunting as he fucks you harder and harder with every thrust; and the staccato of desperate moans that escape your lips are all you can think about.

You’re about to come as Dave pushes you forward onto your hands and knees, he fuses his hips to yours, not letting you go for a single second as he pushes your head down onto the edge of the bed.

“Fuck yeah, let them see you, how fucking drunk you are on my cock, dirty little slut.”

“Fuck yes, Daddy, fuck me deep, fill me up with your come Daddy.”

The words fall from your lips without prompt or encouragement, you’re coming so hard you can’t keep your eyes open any more, your legs tremble and your arms feel like lead as pleasure rocks through you like no other orgasm you can remember.

Dave keeps fucking you as you whimper and shake from exertion and overstimulation. You let him use you, let him fuck down into you with such force you swear you’ll feel him for weeks. But you don’t care, pleasure ebbs through you like a heartbeat, stopping only as Dave’s hips snap into you one last time as you hear him groan in your ear. He falls against your back, holding you close to him as he releases inside you, pinning you to him as he pants and whines in your ear.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He rubs his nose along the column of your neck and suckles your earlobe into his mouth.

“All for you Daddy.”

You eventually ease off of his lap and turn the stream off without your usual sign-off. You don’t give a single shit about your viewers right now, all you can think about is Dave and the blissed-out look on his face as he watches you, propped up against your headboard.

“So, that was something else.”

You say with a giggle and the smile that spreads across his face has butterflies exploding in your chest. The love, the affection there is something more than just some kinky fantasy.

“Yeah,” He wheezes as he rocks up onto his feet and scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, “Let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

His whole demeanour has changed, gone is the dominant Dave who just fucked you within an inch of your life, right here the Dave you know so well. Caring, soft, yet still so fucking hot.

“Ok.” You mumble into his chest as you flop against him.

~*~

Hours later and your mom still isn’t home, Dave still hasn’t left your bed.

“We don’t have to do this again y’know.”

You eventually say what you’ve been trying to bring up for hours. You’re snuggled into Dave’s chest, under your freshly made sheets, watching some shit on Netflix. He sits up immediately, pulling you up to sit next to him.

“Is that what you want?”

There’s a vulnerability on Dave’s face that makes your heart clench, a myriad of emotions floods through your system. You dip your head, avoiding those soft brown eyes that you adore.

“No, I just, you’re married to my mom.”

Dave’s calloused hand cups your cheek tilting your head up to look at him.

“And where do you think she is tonight? Where she’s been the last six weekends in a row?”

Dave’s eyes are deadly serious, there’s an edge to his tone that arouses you, it’s possessive, frustrated, but most of all passionate.

“Do you want to keep, uh, seeing each other?” You ask as your eyes drop to his lips and you can’t imagine not kissing them again, not feeling them on your skin.

“Yes.”

Dave’s answer shocks you, not for his admission but for how firmly he says it, how much passion and surety he can pack into a single syllable.

“Good.”

You respond in turn before pulling Dave down on top of you, crashing his lips into yours as his hips slot between yours like you were made for one another.

What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

~*~

You wake up to find Dave propped up on his elbow, watching you sleep, his soft brown eyes roaming over your body as you smile up at him.

“Hey.” You breathe softly as you reach up to cup his cheek. His jaw is dusted with stubble and you relish the way the blunt hairs brush against your palm as he turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“Hey yourself.”

His voice is low, gravelly with sleep. You would give anything to hear it every morning for the rest of your life.

“So, you’ve definitely violated your prenup now huh?”

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

“I mean, yeah? That’s sort of my thing, thought you’d have figured that out by now, old man.”

Dave growls as he climbs over you, his mouth set in a cruel smirk as he straddles your hips, his dick already almost fully erect as he pins your hands over your head, one hand enough to engulf both your own. He drops his other hand to your throat as he squeezes gently.

“Mmm, you’re a bad girl, and I think fucking you right now would be giving you exactly what you want.” Dave sneers as he watches you squirm under you.

“Please? I promise to be good?” You lie.

“I wasn’t born yesterday baby, I‘m an old man after all.”

“Daddy, please?”

“God that is so wrong.” Dave laughs as he nips at your jaw, his grip on your throat tightening a little so your breaths come in ragged bursts. You mewl through tight gasps as you plead with your eyes.

“Dave, fuck me or get off me, I’m too horny for this.”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Dave purrs as he spreads you out, feet hooked under your knees, straddling you, “You think you’re in charge here?”

You grunt and writhe under him, trying to make a point of defying him, but you’re helpless beneath him. You glare up at him as you push your lips out in a sinful pout. You’re eyeing up his body, mapping pressure points, trying to see where you could make a move. You’re such a bratty switch, you know how to make larger partners squirm, even if you can’t overpower them, you’ve learned how to exploit them.

But unlike the mediocre men that came before, Dave has everything planned out it seems, you’re more-or-less immobilised. You need to get creative.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I’m not in charge. You are.” You ooze compliance but Dave only rolls his eyes at your performance.

“Bullshit, I saw you analysing the way I have you, I also know you, Princess Luna.”

You go to make a quip, but Dave’s phone starts to ring, a different ringtone than his normal one. You hate that you know the difference.

“Shit.”

Dave snaps as he rolls over to find his pants so he can fish out his phone.

“What the fuck is so important you call me the day I get back home?” HE snaps down the phone and you bask in the way his harsh tone makes your cunt throb.

“No, Resnick, that’s a you problem. Get your house in order.”

 “Fuck you.” Dave grumbles as he hangs up and turns to look at you.

“Do I need to get used to hearing you bickering with your boyfriend?”

“Oh you don’t know how many lines you just crossed princess.” Dave snarls as he pounces on top of you.

“Show me, David.”

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[thesunfyre4446]

Yo. New to the HoTD discourse. I hope you don't mind me rant dumping on your blog. I'm a bit scatterbrained so I hope I lay out my feelings about these things clearly. I have finally watched HoTD and ....

Listen, I could have liked Rhaenyra well enough, in fact I didn't really mind her in the beginning. But it really all changed once I saw what the audience were saying. How the majority seems to have no sympathy for Allicent at all.

I thought we all understood that no character in Westeros is really all that great?? So I really cant understand the vile hatred spewed towards her? It feels like they even hate her more than anyone ever hated Joffrey or Cersei. People were rightfully angry with the show runners decision to have Jaime r*** her in that one scene. People were capable of feeling empathy for Cersei despite how despicable she is. But there's SOOO much victim blaming for Alicent. It drives me fucking nuts. And to show sympathy for her would have people dogging on you.

I really cannot believe my eyes when I see people thinking she willingly seduced that rotten walking corpse.

I was so naive to think people would understand where her character is coming from. She is utterly powerless. She doesn't have a king for a father to pardon every mistake she makes. She's suffocating and it makes sense for her to hate Rhaenyra who has more privilege than any woman who ever lived in that world, and yet still step over every single rule while expecting everyone else to just live with the consequences of her actions. We're supposed to like her??

I GET that the point of it all is that monarchy is just a shitty way to run a kingdom. I GET that Rhaenyra being a terrible ruler is the point. Man or woman it never mattered.

What I don't get is people thinking she's some feminist figurehead?? She behaves as a man does in that universe, entitled and unfit for what they feel entitled to. I get that that's the point, but that doesn't mean she's for the women at all. Like any man, she's out for herself. Why would I like her if she behaves as any corrupt man in that world would, when the only difference is she doesn't have a dick? And I wouldn't necessarily mind that? I don't watch HoTD or GoT for perfect characters. But if only the audience didn't treat her like some sort of hero and Alicent the pure villain.

I never felt frustrated with GoT discourse. Why the fuck does it seem like HoTD has bred this extremely toxic environment? You can't seem to have a different opinion unless your mouths dick sucking on Team Black.

Dany, just as entitled as she was, she was still able to do as duty demanded. Rhaenyra is a just a spoiled child all the way through. The hatred for Alicent and the inability for people to see Rhaenyra for what she is, has me thinking people have really missed the fucking point about what feminism actually is. And once again, I didnt watch HoTD for feminism. But the audience seems to think Rhaenyra is a beacon for it. Wether intentional or not, ideas take on a life of its own and you cannot divorce these fan-imposed ideas from the show anymore. That's really the part of all this that pisses me off.

I'm TG now not because I condone everything they've ever done. Literally everyone fucking sucks. I'm TG because I understand everyone fucking sucks. And I dislike being tube fed by the biased writers on what to think and feel.

anon, not a single lie was told.

people hate on alicent for displaying human emotions. it's insane. it's always "rhaenyra will turn westeros into barbieland" until someone brings out the fact that she has no intention of helping any other woman other then herself and then it's all "well, we shouldn't judge her from a modern day pov"..

"I'm TG because I understand everyone fucking sucks" this!! also, they have better characters lol

#hotd #house of the dragon #anon ask #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black stans #anti rhaenyra stans

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Forgotten sorrows

Chapter 4

Fae!Soap X Female Reader

Rún tries to keep her emotions in check while dealing with her traumatic memories and a turbulent reunion with Price.

Warnings: MDNI, dark themes, mention of trauma, suicide attempt, mental health talk unstable emotions, guilt and angst, sorry if I missed any.

Sorry I've been gone for so long it's been over a month i know. I just had a lot on my plate but I'm hopefully getting back to a more consistent writing routine. This chapter isn't all that great but it goes into detail on how Rúns mind works. Im not even sure Rún and Soap will be a thing by the end of this story but we'll find out together lol. Next chapter will probably be a mix between Rúns Pov and Soap's Pov. I just wanted to let anyone know that I'll be blocking blogs that follow me that don't have ages or +18 in their bio. I rather minors not read my content. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. This Fae au belongs to @ghouljams I feature their Oc in my writing, send them some love. This story wouldn't exist without them.

Forgotten Sorrows Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 5.1k

After entering the home, you occupy yourself by looking around trying to see what had changed since you last came rather than talk about why you were crying. Your friend walked into her kitchen after getting you settled in her living room probably giving you time to sort through your thoughts. You felt the magic of her wards buzz around you welcoming you back after what felt like years but it had only been a couple of weeks since your last visit. Your eyes stung from crying and you felt a little restless so you get up and walk towards her massive bookshelves and cabinets. Little sniffles still left you as you inspect different vials and jars of herbs displayed on her old mahogany shelves. You definitely felt a lot safer than you did before which helped greatly in calming down your nerves. You decide to prop your little wrapped gift beside her other herbs and spices hoping she'll like it. Your best friend comes in with two mismatched tea cups on a tray with your muffins on it.

Sitting down she pats the space beside her on her sofa. She watches you walk over gingerly and sit down beside her. After handing you your cup she encourages you to take small sips of her herbal tea, gently probing trying to figure out how your seal broke while rubbing your back soothingly. She hasn't seen you like this since before your memories were sealed. You were never this unstable with your magic. Maybe it was a bad idea to begin with but it was the only thing at the time she thought would help you. You were in such a desperate state to forget everything, she was afraid you'd do something far worse. She eventually got you to speak. What followed was more tears and a whole lot of word vomit which she deciphered fairly quickly with some well placed questions. She'd gotten the gist of the series of events that brought you here in such a state. It was your sister again, she had a tendency to get herself in horrible situations only to dump all the responsibilities of said situations on you when things didn't work out. She wasn’t a fan of your sister and voiced her displeasure often. Though this time was far worse, your sister had become entangled with a fae. A fae clearly out to consume her. You were too kind for your own good and highly protective of the one person who said they wanted you as their family. You two would get into small arguments about the way your sister treated you so you both came to an agreement not to talk about it unless it was absolutely necessary to persevere your friendship. She was confused about how your seal broke though. Granted that you were only in your early teens when you managed to put the seal in place. But it had withheld all these years regardless of the amount of times you were perused by the fae or saw something parculiar. Especially that time when a fae tried draining your life force at your previous job. Witch was on a foraging expedition to gather rare plants in season when you ended up in the ICU. She had rushed back as soon as she was informed by your work. You were extremely lucky that fae from work didn’t come visit you in the hospital. You might of died if they came in contact with you in such a vulnerable state. You had chalked it up to overwork since the seal was in place which isn’t necessarily wrong. They did often overwork you with little regard for your wellbeing. Maybe your seal had reached it’s limit and was on the brink of collapse anyway.

Having gotten a fairly comprehensive understanding of the situation she starts gathering ingredients and materials to create protection amulets and charms while she listens to get your anger out on this 'infuriating' Fae as you so put it who was so adamant on ruining your sister. She clearly wasn't a fan of your sister and would much rather she left your life (not that she wished death upon her because she didn't....most of the time) but she knew it would devastate you losing more people in your life and she didn't want that. So out of the love she had for you she went about trying to help you the best she could. She listened to you go into great detail about why you hated this Fae. Why you wanted to "smack his stupid smirk of his handsome face" or that you wanted to "push his stupidily muscular body into the lake" or even better yet "gouging out his pretty ocean eyes". She couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the strange situation. You would inadvertently compliment him while thinking about all the ways you'd want to hurt him. She could clearly tell you were physically attracted to him but decided not to comment on it as she went outside to collect some things for the charms while you mulled over how you could further insult him.

She heard you pace around in the living room as you threw further insults at this mysterious Fae while enjoying a muffin. The witch felt a presence approach as she gathered the last of the ingredients she needed. Looking up she sees an ever so handsome Fae (though she'd never admit it to his face, not yet anyways) leaning against the wall and her threshold. She felt the smoke of his cigar engulf her in a warm embrace but she waved her hands dispensing the smoke cloud nonchalantly trying to appear unfazed by his appearance.

"Hello sweetheart", his deep gravelly voice sends shivers down her spine as she puts away her herbs into her basket standing up straighter.

"Price", she greets a little too eagerly, trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. They stay like this for what feels like hours just consuming each other through their eyes. Price eyes her up and down especially when she bends over to grab some herbs making idle chatter. Sometimes it feels like she dips her shoulders on purpose giving him an eyeful of full luscious breasts. Not that he's complaining but he'll have to teach her a lesson if she's doing that in public. She hears you walk outside through the backdoor still mumbling insults at that Fae you “absolutely” didn't have some sort of crush on.

"You know what's worse is his stupid name, What the hell kind of name is Soap anyway!?", She watches you look up from the muffin in your hand and freeze when you realise there's another 'visitor' in the garden. You lock eyes with Price with an odd look on your face as if you recognise him. It doesn't last long as you both hear Price speak. He just smirks leaning further against the wall pushing against the threshold a little more.

"Seems like a name for a true muppet if you ask me", he lets out a deep chuckle. Not knowing what to say you simply nod and mumble you'll be waiting inside. You glance back at him one more time with your magic swirling around you confused.

"She's all grown up", Price says to himself, moving away from the wall a little bit. "I'll come see you at a better time luv, seems like you have your hands full". The witch glances after Rún confused and goes to ask Price some questions only to realise he's left not before leaving a small bundle of rosy periwinkle on the wall with a small note attached. 'For the tea and biscuits last time'. She smiles at the note and puts the flowers into her basket to take inside still confused at your reaction to Price. She didnt realise you knew him.

You were sitting on the sofa finishing your tea when you saw her walk inside. You both exchanged a knowing look. You could see her flushed expression from a mile away. And She herself had questions she wanted to ask you. You spoke first excitedly.

"Well?", You narrow your eyes at her. "When were you going to inform me about this drastic change in your love life?

"What drastic change? He's juusst aaa …….friend?", She avoids looking at you while she begins preparing ingredients for the wards.

"Are you asking me or telling me? Because I don't believe you for a second!, you were making heart eyes at him", you scoff clutching your heart thankful for the change of topic. "Oh the betrayal!! The betrayal!! You kept this from me? Me? Your best friend? How could you?", You fake sob into your arm.

"You're so dramatic", she says, rolling her eyes focusing on preparing the things she needed. "I was not making heart eyes at him"

"Yes you were, I have eyes, I can see. Never took you for a liar", you pout. "And here I thought we'd live out our lives out together being platonic virgins", you hear your friend chuckle at that.

"Nevermind our stupid promise, that offer was only valid if we both reached 30 and hadn't lost our virginities or found someone we wanted to be with."

"So you admit it! You want to fuck him!",You watch her choke on her spit trying to deny it. "We only had a couple years left you know, we could have been platonic soulmates. But nooo you had to go find a very powerful Fae to take my place. I don't even have enough power to fight him to claim you. It's the beard isn't it? It is isn't it?”, you sigh playfully hand on your head as you lounge on her sofa like a french girl.

"Are you done?", she laughs grabbing a few things off her shelves. When she finally notices a small wrapped box on her shelf she lifts it to show you. She looks at you knowingly.

You avoid her eyes and just look outside refusing to comment on the present sitting in her hand. “How do you know Price?”, she asks changing the subjest. “You seemed to recognise him”.

“Price? Is that his name? Fits him well”, you think outloud. “Never took you as someone who was interesting in the elderly though”, you laugh jokingly trying to hide the pain of revisiting suppressed memories. You try piecing together the few instances you recall of him in your distorted mind. “I met him before i was brought to the orphanage, he looked the same as he did back then”. “You know the story of when i first met my father after my mother had died, he was there at the High courts when they decide what to do with me. He was the only one who spoke up and gave me the means to decide my own future.” You don’t explain further delving deeper into your own thoughts. Your friend notices and snaps you out of it not wanting you to enter a rabbit hole you won’t be able to get out of. She hands you the wards and protection charms to put into your sisters home.

“You dont need to think about that right now”, she holds your hands in hers. “The next few days are going to be extremely tough on your mind, your memories are going to come back in bursts and with your magic also manifesting you might spiral into hysteria. I want you to come stay with me for a little while so I can keep an eye on you and help you through it.”

You open your mouth to protest but she’s not having any of it. She insist you stay with her until your more stable and able to control your magic better. You sigh defeated and let her know you’ll pack your necessities and come back tomorrow after placing the wards in your sisters apartment. She hugs you as you leave and you feel the warmth and safety evaporate the second you step out through the gate. The feeling of dread re-enters your body and you glance around hastily before getting into your car and driving home. Maybe because you’ve become somewhat paranoid it almost felt if a shadow was following you or was in your near vicinity.

After placing the wards and charms in your sisters apartment when checking in on her as she worked from home you make your way back to your bestfriends house with your bag of necessities and clothing. Your sister seemed alot better and it didnt seem like Soap would bother her anytime soon considering she was complaining he wouldn’t respond to her texts from yesterday.

The next couple of days were very difficult. For both you and Witch. Guilt was eating away at you for being such a burden on her regardless of her constant reassurance that you were anything but. You tried your best to keep in touch with your sister as often as you could but with the building migraines and fits of passing out left you little time to worry about anything else. You also tried your best to be useful when you weren’t in pain but your attempts were shut down and you were told to rest. But after some light arguing she relented and allowed you to help with small tasks to keep your mind off things. Alot had happened in a few days and many disturbing memories resurfaced preventing you from leaving the bed. You spent majority of your day crying and trying to regain some sanity. Your daily meditation sessions helped with your racing mind and unstable magic. The witch would guide you through controlling your magic during the meditations even though your magic and hers were completely different.

Thing were slowly looking up but you felt very unsure of yourself and the identity you created when the seal was in place. The mundane life you had was your safe havan, which now felt inaccessible. You didnt know what to think anymore you didnt feel like the person you felt before, it was like you were back in the mindset of your childhood days. Times which you so desperately wanted to forget.

Memories would resurface of you trying to play with the other children at the orphanage. But because of the tricks the fae would play on anyone who got close to you they would get hurt, you were deemed unlucky or cursed. Some of the tricks were harmless enough like things going missing of being misplaced which would often be blamed you. But the pranks escalated as time went on, ending up with people being hit with potted plants that were on window sills or tripping and falling into nettles. One of worst memories that resurfaced so far was when you were waiting on the curb with another orphan girl you had befriended, you two were waiting to cross the street on your way home from school. You watched as other parents and guardians had come to pick up their children. You remember yearning for someone to hold your hand too while asking how your day was. From the coner of your eye you saw a large shadowy dog? Or was it a cat? Approach your friend as you two stood waiting for the lights to turn green. You had tried desperately to shoo it away before it came closer but the girl just saw it as you being mean to the animal and stopped you. You saw it push your friend onto the road when a car was approaching. Logically it would have been impossible for the animal to have pushed her onto the road so when it had happened and the car came to a screeching halt an inch away from the girl. Every adult on the street and cars understandably were screaming at you after making sure the girl was ok. Who was now crying recoving from the shock of almost dying. The orphanage cartakers were called by the teachers at the school gate and you were kept away from the other kids for a really long time as punishment. And for their safety for your so called ‘unpredictable behavior’ even though it wasn’t you who had done it.

The isolation that followed was one of the worst you ever felt. But blaming it on an animal you called a fairy would have deemed you insane or in need of mental counselling so you kept your mouth shut and took the blame. You could never forget the look your friend had given you after the ordeal. You spent months grounded with having to take up more chores to atone for your actions. Rumours spred like wildfire in school, parents and teachers alike warned kids to stay away from you. But after things settled down the guilt of the situation made you go apologise to the girl even though you never pushed her. You kept to yourself after that much to the releif of the other kids. The only place you felt safe was at the house of your current best friend. Her and her family would come donate things to the orphanage and spend time with the children. You laugh to yourself remembering the first time you had met her. She had introduced herself as ‘witch’ and nothing more as you sat on the grass making flower crowns at the edge of the garden. You had told her to stay away and that bad things would happen to her if she came close to you. Which she proceeded to ignore saying she isnt afraid of the fae. You remember looking at her with shock and admiration. For the longest time you were ridiculed for blaming the bad things that happed on ‘fairies’ as everyone else put it. You were now banned from talking about said ‘faries’. You asked if she could see them and she said no but she could sense them and her family said they were real so it had to be true ‘because grandma doesn’t lie’ . You asked why she wasn’t afraid and she said her family and her home is protected. And that you should come visit her grandmothers cottage since its only down the street. You watched her leave with her grandmother through the gate. They placed a charm on the gate before they left and you waved them goodbye.

You honestly owe your life to your her considering all she had done for you. You wouldn’t have made it so far in life without her. Hence the reason why you sat in her sofa ridden with guilt for causing disturbance to her life. Though she adamantly denies it. You watch her mull around her work space opening and closing drawers and jars making a list of things to stock up on.

“At least let me help”, you plead

“Absolutely not, you just had a mental breakdown”, she points her pencil at you before going back to what she was doing. “Sit pretty and enjoy your tea before it gets cold”

“Please i feel like a freeloader, a leach, a parasite”, you pout at her hoping to change her mind

“You are anything but, you may not realise or value the things you do for others but I do so just sit and enjoy your tea and let me take care of you”, she smiles at you finishing up her list.

“Can i make dinner at least?”

“No we’ll order takeout once i come home from shopping, i would take you with me but your magic is unstable right now so its best if you rest while i run some errands”, she walks over to you and places her hand against your cheek lovingly. “You are and never will be a burden on me, ok?”

You look into her eyes and nod as you get up to follow her to the door as she gathers her essentials. Before she leaves you call out to her one last time.

“Give me something small to keep myself occupied while your gone then....please”, you plead

She catches the desperation in your eyes, this whole ordeal was taking its tole on you she could see in your sunken eyes and the dark circles you now have due to the lack of sleep and constant nighmares. She thinks for a bit before she speaks.

“The flowers around the house are getting old, why not make some new flower arrangements to put in the vases?”

You smile at her suggestion and nod as you wave her goodbye and lock the front door.

You go about gathering all wilted flowers around the house and taking the vases to wash in the sink. Once everything was cleaned and dried you pick a basket and sheers to go into the garden to gather new flowers to arrange into bouquets. It felt a little odd being in the cottage all by yourself but the warmth and safety never left. You look open the back door taking in the good weather.

The fresh air felt nice on your skin. Paired with the bright sun shining on you, a calming sensation engulfed your senses. You let a shaky breath out trying to dispel all your worries even if it was only momentarily. You take a look around the garden contemplating on what flowers to choose. The red rose bush near the back gate stood out to you. They were in full bloom and had a lovely smell emanating from them. Making your way towards the bush you were careful not to touch the thorns as you cut the roses and put them into the basket.

The felt a familiar presence approach without having to look you knew who it was. The wards hummed in recognition as he leaned againt the wall, pushing at the threshold. You didn’t feel any form of hostility or danger from him surprisingly.

“She’s not here, but im sure you knew that already”, you say straighting your back and making eye contact with Price.

“Oh? And how would i have known that? “, he chuckles

“Your claim is on her, i only realised when i had seen you that day. There was a scent on her and her things that i overlooked”, you pout slightly still upset at losing your platonic soulmate, yeah definitely platonic....

You shake your head trying to dispel your thoughts.

“You upset i stole her from you?”, he smiles mischievously.

“I wouldn’t call it stealing per say. She’s still in my life and i dont plan on that changing. Her hapiness and wellbeing is my top priority, if you so happen to bring her hapiness who am i to object. Im happy as long as she’s happy”

“ ‘s that so?”

“Im asuming your here for some other reason than to annoy me?” you finish gather the roses as you move towards the peonys at the far end of the the right wall. Price casually walks as you do continuing the conversation.

“Heard one my boys was causing you some trouble. That muppet Soap has a ferocious appetite. I’ll warn you he hasn’t had a good meal in a while. Might be best to let your sister go and mourn already. I need my boys well fed to run my errands”, he says sympathetically.

Your pain takes a spike as you hear him mention Soap and your sister. You chest felt heavy when you look into Price’s eyes. He might of meant it sympathetically but in your mind it came across as condescending almost as a warning to back off. You felt hurt at his words considering he had helped you when you were little.

You scoff fighting the tears in your eyes and busy yourself gathering the peony.

“You fae are all the same, selfish and unempathetic”, you didnt want to enage in the conversation further conviced he’d say somthing to further upset you so you turn to leave. The pain was spreading from your chest as if you were being injected by liquid fire. It was coursing through your veins and burning every nerve ending. You felt your magic whiplash around you trying to keep danger away even if it was only emotionally.

“Don’t forget you have the same blood flowing through you. You are one of us. He may be doing you a favour by removing your sister from your life”

You snap your head toward him, anger bubbling up from deep within. You feel the pressure push at the walls of your mind. “When have i ever been seen as one of your kind!? This blood has brought me nothing but torment!!”, you laugh with no mirth in your voice. “Doing me a favour!? Doing me a favour? By what? Taking away my only family? By taking away the only person who needs me? My sister is the reason I am alive right now, I continue living for her sake. If she’s gone I have no purpose”, you give him your worst glare. You eyes begin to hurt and you feel a migrain coming on but you refuse to blink. You want to drive home the point you aren’t afraid of him or any fae especially when it came down to family. The magic within you becomes scorching hot, expanding and creating pressure that you felt in your eyes. The longer you stared the more the pain grew. It was as if you were pulling an elastic band to its limits waiting for it to snap or for you to let go. Either way you knew the sting was coming.

Price didnt say anything and returned your stare unnerved. He could see the pain not only in your heart but in your mind. He could feel the pain through the magic in the air, your magic had taken on a murky colour a mixture of red and green. You were actively fighting the seal on your eyes trying to prove a point but you were just hurting yourself. Your eyes were growing teary and he knew you were about to break. What he didnt expext was for your magic to combust around you when it happened. Like a match being thrown into a pool of gasoline the flames engulfed you.

You collapsed onto the grass desperately trying to contain your magic and tears. You felt like a failure, a burden trying to grasp at straws to keep people in your life. Now look at what you’ve done! How were you to explain how the garden burnt down. You sob into your hands trying to calm down. You wished the flames would just consume you. You were tired, so tired. If there was no hope in saving your sister why bother living. You thought of your will as you felt the flames touch your skin and burn you. At least you could repay them back in some sense for having had to waste their time on you all these years. Just as quickly as you embrace the flames you felt them extinguish. A cold sensation ran all over you soothing your superficial burns before you realised you were wet. You open your eyes and see Price inside the threshold but quite a distance away as if he couldn’t get to you in time.. You look at him confused. An empty watering can lay next to you. It must have been the protection wards that had put you out. You knew your friend would have felt that and was probably on her way home.

You look around disoriented, nothing had been burnt expect you. You decided to just stay quiet. You didn’t know how you could possibly go about explaining what had just happened to your friend when she got back without incriminating yourself and your attempt to end everything. You watch Price crouch down to your level bringing his hand towards you. You flinch and move back.

“Im just trying to see how badly your injured, i won’t hurt you”, he sighs a sad look crossing his eyes.

“Maybe not phyically but you have a way with words”, you bite back.

“We’re often blind to volatile people in our lives. Im sure i’m not the first or only person to warn you about her”, you stay quiet because you yourself know what your sister is like an how she treats you but for some reason you feel bound to help and take care of her to the point of exhaustion. You feel indepted to her for showing you kindness when no one else would especially after you sealed your memories away. Spending time in a house where no one acknowledged you was heart wrenching, she was your salvation when you couldn't find purpose in life. You couldn’t abandon her now. You were bound by duty of repayment.

You sniffle as you roughly wipe your face wincing when you came in contact with the burn. You had few people in your life who cared about you. You desperately needed to be of use to them. It was the only way in your mind they tolerated your presence. Why else would anyone need you or want you? You wouldn’t have been abandoned or mistreated if you were useful. The current situation had you feeling on thin ice as if you’d become a nuisance to the very person you love. Regardless of the amount of times she has reassured you, your mind refuses to believe it.

‘She’s just being nice’ ‘She just a kind hearted person to everyone your not special to her’ ‘You need to get better and leave before she she gets tired of you’, you mind would constantly berate you for wanting your needed anything from others. You needed to be 100% independent in order not to inconvenience anyone. And right now you were anything but. You were glad you didn’t burn down her garden though, one less thing to add to the growing list of situations to feel guilty for. The pain in your chest didn’t dissipate it only got worse as you sat there on the grass, as Price looked around for something to dry you with. In your desperation to lesson the pain you claw at your chest feeling around to rip out the source of your troubles. But how was one supposed to rip out emotions? You kept feeling around trying to find somthing tangible to pull out but you couldn’t. You were just left with a guilty conscience and a river of awful memories. Price tried to approach you a couple more times but you refused to let him near.

You didn’t know how much time had passed but the summer sun had dried you by the time you heard the front door open hastily and you watch your friend try to locate you. Your skin was still stinging from the burns as Price stood by leaning against the wall with his arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. She came into the back garden with a frantic look on her face. You watch her run to you and collapse onto the grass holding you to her chest. You wince from the burns and she pulls back holding your face in her hands, inspecting to see the extent of the damage. All you could do was apologise as tears streamed down your face. Begging for forgiveness saying you didn’t mean for it to happen. She just held you as you let everthing out.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2023. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #captain john price #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #cod mw soap #soap cod #soap mw2 #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mctavish #soap x reader #soap modern warfare #john mactavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #cod modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #captain price #john price #1fae1 #fae!soap #fae!au

[twilight-at-midnight]

Love triangle

Pairing: Edward x reader Alec x reader Benjamin x reader

Warnings: None

Request for: @misskitty1912-blog

Request: Can I request plus size Caucasian female reader in a love triangle whose Bella's sister and Edward Alec and Benjamin fall in love with reader leaving Bella jelous (in x reader stories I ship Bella with Jacob )!

***

During the time of Edward’s absence, you had started believing that Bella would be better off without him, considering the amount of time she was now using to hang out with Jacob Black, a childhood friend.

The more time Bella spent with him, the more you shipped them together and that Jacob would be better of the terms of boyfriend/girlfriend thing. You had the thought in mind for a while, the very thought was both of out of sincerity and pure jealousy. You were Bella’s younger sister, you were younger than her by just a year and you can remember those times where you felt insecure of yourself due to having the plus size body type.

Most of the time, you’re able to ignore those negative thoughts you sometimes had of yourself, but when Bella started dating Edward, you got a little jealous because she had something you didn’t. The first day you had met Edward Cullen was the same day Angela was introducing his family that walked in first to Bella as you listen intently. Edward than walks in like a movie star.

“Who’s he?” Bella asks, eyes gesturing to Edward walking behind.

“That’s Edward Cullen..” Angela begins, you turn to look while tuning everything out around you.

For a moment, you had briefly locked eyes with Edward before his gaze shifted over to Bella. Not long after turning back around, you take another glance behind you and truly had thought Edward had his eyes on you, which was clearly not the case at all as you come to the realization he had eyes fixated on Bella, and that’s where jealousy settles in.

You could feel your heart skip a beat from disappointment. As much as you loved your sister, you couldn’t help the way you feel as the jealousy really kicks in when the two started dating. However, the jealousy soon fades away when Edward dumps Bella in the woods that fateful day and you were angry with him after you go into protecting your sister mode. Later on, you learn of the whole story and you did everything you could think of to help her to cheer up. Nothing seemed to work until everything took a sudden change when she started hanging out with Jacob Black, a childhood friend. It soon comes upons you that the more time Bella spent with Jacob, the more you shipped them as mentioned before.

Later on when Bella had run away with Alice to Italy, you are taken by surprise of the unplanned trip to save Edward from the Volturi killing him. Bella was going to run away without informing your dad of anything, or whereabouts. You made the decision to go along to make sure Bella was safe and brought back home in one piece. All the while you’re thinking you would never find someone, you had no idea that this sudden trip would change your life forever, Italy is the place you begin discovering you were not meant to be with just one mate, but three in total. This discovery was unexpected by all means.

Alec Volturi is the first to have locked eyes with you while entering the throne room shortly after saving Edward. Alec knew right than it was love at first sight, that you were his forever mate until you’re either dead, or until he changes you from human to vampire. It took you longer to get the message, it was when Alec stepped in as Jane tried to pain you for no reason at all. Alec was not only the only your savior so to speak, he was your mate. He was now your mate protecting you from harm, throwing everyone by surprise and off guard before it suddenly hit you that you had more than one mate in the very room you stood in. The discovery of your second mate was revealed as Alec had you hidden behind him, watching as Jane now turns towards Edward to pain him. Seeing that happening before you was what had you lose your shit as you couldn’t pull yourself together.

Alec sensed it quickly and is able to put a stop to Jane on time before she could hurt your second mate, Edward Cullen. The time comes for your group to leave, but you found yourself not wanting to leave Alec behind.

Alec wanted to keep you safe and asked that you leave with your group before anything happens. He does so while promising you both would be together again soon, and that promise was delivered not long after that. The second meeting occurred after winning the battle of the newborns, Riley Biers, and Victoria who was the mastermind behind all of this. When he saw you, he knew you weren’t going to be left behind this time and whisked you away while having you until Irina informed the Volturi family of a crime the Cullens have supposed to committed.

It wasn’t until the snow stuck to the ground you saw your group again, not only that, but you than discover you have a third mate after locking eyes with him from your side of what would have been the battlefield. Alec and Edward sensed it too, and you later got to know him as Benjamin. While having three mates was an interesting experience, you also loved it just as much as you loved them, if not more, loving them with all your heart. Most of all, you loved how the love triangle between the four of your worked, it was something you couldn’t walk away from or leave behind, even if you made any attempts.

This love triangle was what true love was all about, it was true love in your eyes. They all claim to have fallen in love with you first, but you know you had fallen in love with each other at the same time.

Nothing could make you happier.

***

@twilight-at-midnight

Please request!

Characters:

• Edward Cullen

• Carlisle Cullen

• Jasper Cullen

• Emmett Cullen

• Alice Cullen

• Rosalie Cullen

• Bella Swan

• Jane Volturi

• Aro

• Alec

• Caius

• Felix

• Benjamin

#twilight imagines #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #twilight #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #jasper cullen #emmett cullen #riley biers #jacob black #alice cullen #rosalie cullen #aro volturi #alec volturi #caius volturi #jane volturi #felix volturi #request #requested #requests

[nottoofondofgaypeople]

You should make a long post about Laurance

You are so lucky I got that Vylad ask before this... Ohhh boy

Full stop, this post is probably going to be one of the longest things I post on this Nether forsaken website. Laurance has been a comfort character since I first watched this series years ago in spite of all the bull shit Jesson put him through. I have many many many thoughts on him, and none of them will be organized.

I'm fairly confident that this post will get into some very unhinged territories, I cannot be normal about this man

I feel like this should go without saying, but all of the headcanons I have dumped onto Laurance on my main blog apply to this rewrite. Including this one which you have definitely all seen, and all Shadow Knight headcanons are also canon here.

But let's talk about this rewrite specifically. Because when Laurance comes back from the Nether, and he confesses his love, the mother fucker does it! He actually gets Irena to say she at least feels something towards him! It isn't much, but she doesn't get all awkward when he says that he loves her, and she's supremely gentle with him while helping him with his recovery. This really quickly turns into romance and the two are effectively dating shortly after.

Yeah Laurance's eyes aren't magically fucking cured to perfection, that's stupid an abelist.

Actually, because I want peak recovery arc material out of this rewrite Laurance is going to get to spend a lot of time learning how to fight with this new form. His body has been pretty significantly altered from the process of undeath and also the torture. I'm so for real when I say Laurance has so many scars, just so many of them, 18 million scars all over his everything. He already had some from being a stupid fucking child, but these ones are a lot uhm... bigger.

Laurance has to adjust to the new symptoms of his body. A lot of them are slow, appearing over time. The first major thing Laurance notices is that when he stops thinking of breathing for long enough, he just stops breathing. Shadow Knights don't need to breathe, so their body doesn't naturally do it. But Laurance never fully died, so he kind of does need to breathe?? And this is just where it starts.

I think the doll symptoms start kicking in a lot slower than I initially thought of. There's still the first time that it happens, but then it doesn't happen as often. Maybe once or twice, but the next time Laurance really deals with that is during the Season 1 finale (but it isn't Garroth that knocks him out (but that's a whole post unto itself)). Going into Season 2 though, it gets worse and worse. As the Shadow King has more influence over the Overworld, the calling gets stronger and stronger.

More often than not the calling manifests as a whisper in the back of Laurance's mind, something that sends a tingle down his spine and not in a good way. His blood runs hot, and he can feel his body pulled to Irena. Like his blood is tied to her life force and constantly trying to bring her to it. And any time he's around her, that voice gets louder, starts multiplying as he fights it, all of them demanding him to kill, to do it, to free himself of the burden, to gain eternal life.

Laurance doesn't want eternal life though!! He never has!! He wants to fall in love and start a family and grow old with his partners!!

Okay so going into Laurance's childhood a bit, I've said it before and I'll say it again, Laurance is the mcd equivalent of a theater kid and yet somehow fumbled in choosing his class and ended up as a fighter instead of a bard, the goof. He picked up the Lyre when he was a teenager, mostly because his father bought one and expressed an interest in teaching Laurance how to play, and he was all over that.

He stops playing it when he goes to the guard academy cause they just don't have instruments there (which is a crime), but he does still spend a lot of time remembering songs and finger placements, mans is doing whatever he can to make sure he doesn't fall out of practice. When Laurance comes back to Meteli as an official guard he celebrates by having a party in the town and finally getting to play his beloved lyre again.

He doesn't play it as much when he's a guard, but he always tries to stay in practice. And he won't let any blindness get in the way either, his muscle memory is so on point he barely needs his eyes unless he's reading sheet music, which is usually right in front of him.

I could seriously go into a whole character analysis of comparing Laurance to Orpheus, specifically from Hadestown, like I really want to, but I'll restrain myself to just the general myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Laurance really thought he could walk into hell and defy the gods. He really thought he could just do that. And even when he was faced with punishment, when Orpheus was forced to stay in the Underworld in her place, he endured it all for her. And actually this is so funky the roles are kind of reversed. Because Irena is the one who can't turn around to look at Laurance when they're running out of hell. If she does, she will die. That is guaranteed. Eurydice has always acted in the assurance of her survival. Unlike Orpheus in the same position, she can manage to not turn her head.

Hhhhhhg Laarmau as Orpheus and Eurydice is literally everything to me you don't understand.

And yes Laurance being Orpheus coded is why I gave him a Lyre, I won't even deny that. Like, c'mon, Laurance very earnestly trying to earn Irena's affection and saying "I also play the lyre" and Irena snarking back "A liar and a player too? I've met too many men like you." I'm--

Stay focused!! This is not the Hadestown post!!

What if Laurance was like obscenely physically affectionate? Like he's so so so physical, he loves having a point of contact with someone at all times. It doesn't have to be anything big either. He just likes wrapping his arm around Garroth's shoulder, or having Irena play with his hair. It was something important before the Shadow Knight transformation, and he only needed it more as time went on. The feeling of his lovers heartbeat reminds him he's alive.

And other people touching him reminds Laurance he still has this body. In spite of all the Shadow Kings control, he has control of his own body in this moment and he is using that control to show love and care and that matters to him more than anything. He likes holding hands, putting his hands on people, having other people do the same, even the smallest amount of affection is enough for him to selfishly crave more.

Laury likes singing a lot. His voice got a little deeper after the Shadow Knight thing because his vocal chords got just a little shredded in the Nether, but he still loves singing and singing with his friends and lovers. Laurance singing some sappy love song to Garroth who is just completely smitten, or singing some silly little campfire song to boost Cadenza's mood when she's having a bad day.

THE TABLE BIT!! I simply adore the table bit!! All of it! And it's even better in my rewrite cause even if the dialogue and the scene plays out almost exactly the same, they're in love while doing this silly bit!! Such fucking dorks I want to throw them against concrete.

Thinking about Laurance and Ungrith. Laurance finding this wyvern in the forest while exploring one day and befriending it almost instantly because Laurance is just a very kind person. Even if Ungrith isn't allowed to be with his brethren, it's okay because this weird fuckin kid is really entertaining and a genuinely great friend. I know it isn't possible but a scene where Laurance, Garroth, and their wyvern childhood friends get to hang out and talk would probably fix all my problems.

Raven doesn't literally anyone but Garroth touch him, but when Irena tells him about Ungrith, he's willing to let Laurance pet his scales or whatever you do to show affection to a flying lizard. It's not the same, but it's better than nothing.

Laurance's favorite place to kiss other people is on the cheeks, but his favorite spot to be kissed is the forehead. I think that he doesn't admit this to people, rather lets them figure it out. Both Garroth and Irena figure out Laurance likes kissing their cheeks a lot, like he does it constantly, especially because Garroth has freckles and Laurance is determined to kiss every single one of them.

Garroth is the one who learns about Laurance's affinity for forehead kisses cause he's only like two inches taller than Laurance, but that difference matters a lot to both of them. And Garroth can tell very easily from the way Laurance always loves looking up at him with those big doe eyes. Once he tells Irena this, she starts asking Laurance to bend over or kneel in front of her so she can kiss his forehead very tenderly.

Because I made Garrancemau polycule real in my rewrite, Laurance's calling latched onto Irena, but man oh man, it tempts him with Garroth sometimes. He fights so hard to protect Irena partially because if she dies by someone else's hands, he knows it'll latch onto Garroth. And sometimes the calling urges him towards it anyway, considering it'll work. A calling is best answered by the death of a lord, but the death of another guard isn't always a bad thing.

Every time Laurance runs from his lovers to fight the calling he feels so cold without them. Like if he bothers to try sleeping while on his own it just feels so cold. So empty. It doesn't feel right to try to sleep without Irena in his arms and Garroth snuggled up behind him and a blanket over the three of them.

I think Laurance cries a lot. He doesn't really have hang ups about showing his emotional side until he's a shadow knight, and even after, he only tries to hide his anger. He never hides his anguish, his sadness, his absolute misery as a result of the nightmare he was forced to live through. Laurance's crying is so loud, so wretched, almost agonizing for him. It forces his entire body to shake and tremble, sobs being wrung out of him almost forcefully.

I want. him. to be okay. and happy. and I know he won't be. Aughfhhg.

#minecraft diaries #mcd rewrite #minecraft diaries rewrite #text post #aphblr #mcd headcanons #writing #laurance zvahl #laurance mcd #minecraft diaries garroth #garroth ro'meave #mcd aphmau #mcd cadenza #mcd kenmur #way too long #so many words #gay block men

[slytherinshua]

warning: sappiness ahead fr

it's been 424 days since i started my blog, and here we are.

1000 followers.

1000.

10 to the power of 3.

that is, in fact, a lot of people.

i can't even begin to understand how 1000 people like my writing. i think that it will still take me a while to feel like a good writer, even though i've just accomplished this milestone of followers.

i feel like a novice all the time, because, well, i've only been writing since january of 2022 (613 days, if i've calculated correctly). this hobby of mine was spontaneous and new and is still something i need to get a lot better at. i never wrote when i was younger apart from academic essays, it just wasn't something i found interesting, but since i've gotten into fanfiction, i've found my place where i can write and be creative.

the sincerest thank you to everyone who likes my writing. whether you were my first follower or my 1000th follower, i love you.

somehow this has started to feel like a well thought out thank you speech for some big occasion, even though it's just funny old tumblr dot com where little zanna reached a milestone. but this feels like an eventful day, but i'm still writing just whatever comes to my mind, none of this post was planned beforehand.

i want to really really thank the people who have been a big part of my life, my tumblr moots and close friends. (more sappiness ahead ew)

@eternalgyu hannie is the entire reason i am even writing on this platform. she was the start to everything, from the very second i created this blog to now, she's been here for all 424 days. and i can't even understand why she has stuck with me for that long, but i love her more than anyone else on this planet. i've dumped all my ideas on her and given her spoilers for fics i was writing. she's given me so many ideas and suggestions that have really helped along the way to create this blog and get it to where it is today. she will always be number 1 for me. she is irreplaceable. hannie, i love you so much.

@blue-jisungs axe :D the first blog i followed, and my first moot. she has been here from before i hit 100 followers. she's read my shitty old writing from when this blog was just starting to form. and i thank her for sticking with me cause my writing back then was not the greatest, let's just say that. axe has always been someone i looked up to, especially when i was first starting. i loved her writing and it inspired a lot of the first fics i wrote for this blog!! she'll always be one of my closest friends, i love her so much.

@hannahsophie0103 thank you for being one of the first people to send in requests, and for continuing to give me ideas. i get a lot of requests now, but when this blog was still a fetus, my inbox sat empty for weeks and weeks. i got so inspired and motivated whenever i got a request, and writing was truly so fun whenever i felt like i was writing for someone.

sorry for lumping you all together, but all my caratblr moots, i love you so much. everyone in the moot circle especially-- who i've talked to on the discord server-- you are some of my closest friends, and i love how we're all here, just writing some silly little fics for seventeen on tumblr. some of you have absolutely incredible writing that i can only hope to achieve one day. when i read some of your fics, it feels like actual art. words strung together so beautifully that i can say with no hesitation that you've created an actual masterpiece. thank you for inspiring me and talking to me daily, i hope you haven't gotten bored of me. you all feel like my close friend group, who i could share anything with and you'd still support and love me. thank you for being friends with me, and i love you.

i think that we've passed all the sappy speech part yay!! now to announce my 1K follower event :) *drum roll*

the love sight event.

what's the love sight event, you may ask? well, although i had dozens of ideas for what to do once i reached 1K, i decided that since txt was the start for this blog, i wanted them to be the centre of my event.

love sight will be a multiple part series where each member of txt will get their own fic.

i've put a lot of thought and planning into this event (only the planning though, i have a long way to go for actually writing the fics, but i'll get there eventually). i expect that actually completing this event will take... a very long time. so please bear with me as i write these fics!!

i have some other things planned soon for fics, such as the caratsland song event and some possible collaborations, so if there is a wait between fics for love sight, i'm sorry about that!!

i hope you all really enjoy the event, and once again, thank you. all 1000 of you, thank you so much. - zanna

#slytherinshua's 1k event!!

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 6

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* brief mentions of medical procedures/accidents, protective Max, imaginary friend nostalgia, telephone anxiety, secrets revealed. Summary: An important conversation with Max takes more sharp and unexpected turns that a labyrinth and is followed by even more revelations from another source. Notes:  Again, deep apologies for the erratic posting this week. I swear we're back on track now!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

The developing rhythm of the days is overtaken with masquerade planning, and it occurs to you somewhere in the first few days of going through decorations and flyer wording with Allison, Tracy, and Candance, that what you're doing here isn't that far off from the life of one of the Gilded Age hostesses that you're imitating with your party theme. Tonight is for relaxing, however, as Dancing with the Stars night has come around again. There was a lot of debating back and forth with yourself but here you are standing outside of Max's room at ten minutes before eight and shaking in your stylish yet affordable boots while you knock – unsure if you're hoping that he's been looking forward to tonight or if you'll be surprised if he even gave it any thought.

There is no answer after the first knock, and his door is closed, so you're left with a dilemma: try again and be disappointed when it seems as though you're being ignored...or just give up after one try and go watch your show alone like you would have done otherwise. Like you would have done before Max watched with you last week and shared a part of himself with you on that couch. Before he insisted on being your escort to the masquerade. Before he danced with you in the ballroom. Before you think he was about to kiss you. It's the culmination of everything that gives you the smallest semblance of hope, and you knock again – a little louder – only to receive no answer all over again.

With your head hanging a little lower, you take yourself to the sitting room alone and turn on the tv.

******

"Cutting it close Max." Mrs. Taylor tuts at him as Max rushes around the kitchen.

"I know, I know." He hisses as he tries to make sure the hot chocolate has the perfect ratio of cream to chocolate. Nearly burning his blood that is warming up in the process. Burnt blood stinks and he can't waste the few minutes that he has before the show starts trying to air out the kitchen. "I couldn't watch it with her without snacks, though."

"She liked the tray you brought up last week that much?" The housekeeper makes no effort to hide her smile as she cleans up the kitchen from prepping tomorrow morning's breakfast. She found a new baked French toast recipe that soaks overnight that she thinks you will love.

“She ate it.” That is a high praise in his mind because all this food tastes like shit to him. The point for him is to make you feel good.

"Then you had better get going." The clock on the wall reads three minutes until the hour and she smiles privately as Max hurries to finish when he realizes the time.

"I know, I know." As soon as the hot chocolate is on the tray, along with his own cup of blood, Max is out of sight. Using that speed to make it from the kitchen in the basement to the floor where you are in less than a few seconds. Having to take extra time to keep the hot chocolate from spilling or the snacks from rattling around too much. "Good, I made it." He huffs like he’s out of breath when he comes into the sitting room to find you already curled up on the sofa like before.

“Max?” Even though you practically jump three feet in the air when he appears — you didn’t hear him coming — the smile on your face is a complete betrayal of how glad you are to see him. With his tray of snacks in hand Once more, you immediately scoot over on the sofa to make room for him. “I…went to knock on your door to see if you wanted to watch with me again. When you didn’t answer…” you shrug instead of finishing your thought, mostly just relieved to have been wrong.

“Sorry.” Max shoots you a small grin. “I was down in the kitchen. I realized about ten minutes before that I hadn’t figured out the snack situation.”

“I wasn’t sure if after…the other night…” It was two days ago that you’d danced in the ballroom together and somehow you could still swear that you feel his hand on your back. But that’s not to be dwelled on, and you shake your head to pitch the thought away. “Never mind. Come and sit down?”

“Gladly.” Max sets the tray down and picks up the hot chocolate to hand to you. “Who’s your money on tonight?”

“Jason Mraz did really well last week, but the Marvel actress might be a ringer. It’s hard to tell if it’s that, or just that she’s young and picking it up quickly.” The smell of the cocoa is already a sense memory locked away in your mind, and you inhale happily before telling yourself it’s far too hot to take a sip right away. Mrs. Taylor had made you cocoa one afternoon this past week but — you hate to admit — it didn’t hold a candle to Max’s. “Latin Night is always fun, though. Somebody’s Cha Cha is bound to go wildly wrong.”

“Cha Cha is so hard to do when you don’t have natural rhythm.” Max snorts and waggles his brows at you playfully. “Not everyone has it like me and you.”

It feels like he’s flirting with you — if you can even remember what flirting feels like anymore — and before you can even blink your cheeks are flushed hot in response. “It’s not fair, ya know,” you mumble sheepishly. “My competitions were filmed. But…after you said it…I looked for yours. They weren’t.”

“No, they wouldn’t have been.” Max smirks slightly, pleased that you had been searching for his own videos. “Romanian Ballroom Dancing competitions aren’t filmed.” He snorts. “Kind of like Russian Ballet practices I guess.”

“Is that in case Dracula shows up?” You snort slightly at your own joke and take a first sip of the cocoa he’s brought you. It’s just as amazing as you remember and you hum happily at the rich, creamy taste.

He chuckles and shrugs. “Maybe, you never know. Or maybe it’s not filmed since vampires couldn’t show up on old film? Since it was processed with silver back in the day? Tradition, I guess.”

“Ballroom dancing vampires.” Another soft laugh escapes you and you reach for a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl he brought. “That would be a sight to see. Imagine a vampire doing a Viennese waltz? That sounds like it would be the most elegant thing in the world.”

There’s a moment where Max considers telling you. Like this is the segue into the ‘I’m a vampire’ conversation that he wants him to have with you. “Very elegant.” He hums. “As if they are gliding.” Call him a coward, but he’s gotten used to your warmth and he doesn’t want to have you terrified of him just yet.

“Maybe you should be a vampire for the masquerade, then.” It’s bold, at least for you. To joke and tease and flirt like this. For so many years this kind of behavior simply wasn’t allowable in your life. But with Max — and even with Eddie and Renee and everyone else in this house — it’s like the old parts of your personality are starting to come back to life.

“That will be easy.” Max grins. “Does that mean you’ll be the Vampire Bride?” He asks. “Big, blood red gown with a veil?”

“I bet I can find an old wedding gown at a thrift store and get some red fabric dye at the craft shop in town.” It sounds silly and light, and like the kind of thing that would have made you laugh a long time ago. What you won’t do is let yourself have any illusions about it meaning anything to Max. Eventually you’ll have to admit to yourself that you have a crush on him, but not just yet.

“You should ask Mrs. Taylor to take you to the dress room.” Max snorts. “Use one of Ms. Brown’s dresses.”

“There is a dress room?” Suddenly this knowledge is far more important than the fact that the show is starting, and your eyes widen at Max. “Is that where the dresses we wore last week came from?”

“I assume so.” Max shrugs. “One of the storage rooms in the attic is where Mrs. Taylor has everything.”

“This house is insane.” You huff, shaking your head and turning to the tv for a moment before looking back at Max. “Everybody seems to be very into vampires around here. I think it sounds fun for costumes. A—as long as you do.”

“No reason not to be into vampires.” Max snorts with a small smirk.

“I guess I’ll have to see what’s in the dress room.” Returning his smile seems so much easier than you had thought it could be, even just a few days ago.

He chuckles and nods towards the tv. “Op, here’s our first contestants on ‘Who’s Gonna Twist An Ankle’.” He adopts a smarmy TV persona voice just to see if you will laugh. It earns a snort and a giggle from you, and you pull your sweater around your shoulders and shift unconsciously closer to him. He isn’t a warmth so much as he feels safe, which is a welcome change from the brash teasing of the first few days of knowing him. “Christ, look at those heels.” Max winces when he sees the clunky shoes on the female performer. “She’s gonna break an ankle, not twist one.”

"I always liked the sequined and bedazzled sneakers on the swing dancers at my studio in high school." You muse, comfortable enough to get lost in a memory while you sip your cocoa beside him. "I swore up and down that I was going to start competing in swing, too. Just to get some."

“Those are cool looking.” He nods as he watches the screen, hyper aware of you beside him and he’s happy your pulse is nice and slow. You’re relaxed. “You know, you could always start up again. You have the perfect practice area.”

"I have nothing but time, I guess." Right now you spend all your time reading, with the girls from the coven, or planning the masquerade. You really have become like an upper-class Gilded Age lady in no time flat. "But..." Glancing over at him, you find his attention on the tv and not on you, which makes you bury your face behind the mug again. "Lessons are always...they're awkward unless you have a good partner."

“So you find yourself a good partner.” He makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world and it honestly is. It just requires you to ask him.

The moment of quiet that stretches between you is where you struggle with yourself. Personal inner strength hasn't exactly been a strong suit of yours in the last few years – or more – and you don't really know if he'll accept if you ask him anyway. Being so afraid of the question means that you start to shift nervously beside him until finally the show's first commercial break blasts across the screen and you scrub both of your eyes with the meat of your palms. It doesn't have to be romantic. You don't even know if it should be romantic at all. But you know you won't enjoy dancing with anybody else nearly as much. Not if the other night was any indication. "If you're too busy or you don't want to find a studio with me, I would totally understand..." you manage, not quite able to look him in the eyes. "But dancing with you was...it was really natural."

“It was, wasn’t it?” Max grins and turns to face you. “Like it was meant to be.”

“You…don’t mind?” That surprises you more than it probably should. Especially because he actually sounds happy about it.

"Dancing with you?" He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Why would I mind?" He asks seriously. "It was the most fun I've had in years."

“I’m just…” When you blow out a breath it feels a lot more self-deprecating than you mean it to be. You were only trying to state a fact. “Not usually people’s first choice.”

"Not people's first choice or not your ex's first choice?" Max asks, wanting to know why you think so lowly of yourself. To see how badly this asshole damaged your self-esteem.

“I already told you.” Curling in on yourself again is instinct, and your eyes drop to the pillow you’ve been holding in your lap. “The night I met him I had gotten stood up at a bar. So it’s clearly not just him.”

"Do you know who stood you up?" You had said it was a blind date, so maybe it’s one of those issues like 'fuck the dude got into a car accident' or something.

“It was a friend of a friend. Some guy that my roommate was taking her art history elective with that she said was so cute and so my type.” You shrug again, burying deeper on yourself. “She said he agreed to it and then dropped off the face of the planet. Stopped coming to class and everything. But…at the time I didn’t care as much. I’d met Derek instead.” Now though…for years now…you’ve wondered time and time again what that guy would have been like and how your life would have been different if he had showed up. “Probably took one look at me through the windows and decided he’d rather drop out than have to have a drink with me.”

Max frowns and shifts in his seat. The memory almost completely obscure and faded through time. There had been other pressing matters, other things that had consumed him that he had completely forgotten about it. He hadn't meant to, but the idea that he was supposed to meet you the day that he had been expelled shakes him to his core.

“What?” The frown on his face makes you frown even more deeply, and the impulse to smooth away the furrow between his eyebrows with your thumbs has to be squelched immediately.

"It's— it's nothing." He shrugs casually, or in a way that is supposed to appear casually. "It's not like your roommate was Shandra Taylor or something."

Now it’s your brow that furrows, the deep ridges marked with confusion. “You knew my roommate?” It’s not impossible, of course. You went to the same college during overlapping years. He could have known Shandra. She was exceptionally outgoing and kind, lots of people knew her.

Max blows out a breath, completely fabricated but he enjoys the little nuances that remind him of human life. “I knew her.” He shakes his head. “You were supposed to meet the blind date at that shitty little bar down from the dorms, right? The ones with the great wings and darts?”

“Bowen’s…” It’s not like it’s a difficult guess, considering that particular bar was a frequent haunt of Vanderbilt students. They notoriously ‘forgot’ to ID so undergrads loved it there.

Max closes his eyes and drops his head into his hand. “In October, that Friday the 13th?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer but he gives a small chuckle. “I promise you I didn’t take one look at you and run away.” He huffs. “That’s the day I was expelled.”

“Oh gods…” The way that idea twists in your gut is haunting, making you feel instantly sick as you shrink back in your seat — a move that accidentally spills cocoa on your sweater and you curse and apologize for the mess as though you’d gotten it on him and not yourself. “Fuck— sorry. I’m so sorry, I—shit—” Your breathing picks up as you start to panic, pulling off your sweater in the process and curling in on yourself on the couch beside him while your mind spirals. It was him. It was Max. He was supposed to meet you. It was Max—

“Hey, hey.” Max doesn’t know how to interpret the fact that you are about to have a panic attack, but he doesn’t like it. He takes you by the shoulders, turning you towards him and ignoring the way you flinch. Looking into your horrified eyes and trying to ignore the way his dead heart clenches, he starts to speak. “Calm down.” He tells you slowly, using his powers of suggestion. “Breathe slowly. In.” He pretends to inhale. “And out.” He slowly exhales even though air does nothing for him. “Everything is fine…”

The calm that washes over you is instant and consuming, even if being told to calm down doesn’t usually help at all. This time it seems to be the magic charm of the whole situation, and you feel yourself relaxing easily in his grip. “I’m sorry…” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut tight and slumping softly against him with your sweater balled up in your hands. “I just—I’ve spent years wondering what happened…and thinking of it as something awful that happened to me. And that’s so fucking selfish when I finally know what a terrible thing happened to you that day…”

“You didn’t know.” He reminds you quietly. His hand on your arm and stroking the back of it lightly. “You couldn’t have known. Shandra didn’t know what happened.”

“I’m so sorry.” Not a single second of your own unhappiness stands up to the way his life was basically ruined in one fell swoop, and you wish you were brave enough to push past self-consciousness and hug him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Max promises, giving you a vulnerable half smile. “You didn’t do it. I just wish I hadn’t stood you up that night. I just— I completely blanked out on it.” He admits.

"You had much more important things on your mind." Life changing things. Although now you can't imagine all the ways your life would have been different if you had met that night.

“I still shouldn’t have stood you up.” If he had known then what he knows now, there’s no way he would have missed that date. His thumb rubs over your birthmark gently.

"Sorry." The instinct is immediate once again, and you move to put your sweater back on to cover the birthmark that Derek had hated so much.

“What are you sorry for this time?” Max huffs, smirking at you slightly and not letting you move out of his embrace.

“The—my—I mean—” Letting out an exaggerated sigh at your own very clear trauma responses (you know what they are, you’re self-aware enough to realize), you shake your head when Max doesn’t let go of you. “Derek hated my birth mark,” you explain quietly. “He was completely anti-soulmate. So I got used to covering it. You just…you touched it a second ago. That’s all.”

“Probably because the motherfucker didn’t have one.” Max sneers, his opinion of your ex falling even lower than it had been, and it was in the dirt. It sounds like this asshole wouldn’t even be a man Max would eat. He would just rip his throat out. “Can I see it?” He asks quietly. This is the moment. If you say no, he won’t press. If you say yes, you’ll learn that he’s your soulmate.

“Um…sure, I guess…” It’s just an oddly shaped set of marks in your skin that your mother insisted looked like a clover, but you just always thought it was a little muddled. Maybe roughly diamond shaped if you squint. Not sure why he would care, you turn in your seat to let him see the back of your right shoulder where the marks have sat your whole life.

“There it is.” Max swallows, his mouth suddenly dry when he sees your mark as a human. “Do you think it’s more diamond or clover shaped?” He asks you, tracing it with his finger. “I always thought diamonds because they are expensive.”

“I’ve kind of thought it was more of a diamond but my—” His comment registers just a moment too late and you pause. “Always?”

His eyes watch you carefully as he nods. “Always.” He confirms softly.

“What do you…?” Straightening up again, your head tilts uncertainly.

Max bites his lip and stands up. He knows he will have to show you. Already out of his suit jacket, he starts to unbutton his vest. “Always wondered what they looked like on someone else.” He admits as he shrugs out of it and starts to undo his cufflinks.

“Max…” Watching him undo himself is a level of arousing that you hadn’t expected, but it’s far more confusing because you’re trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying to you.

“If you are disappointed, I’ll understand.” He tells you, wanting you to know that despite the marks that he shares with you, he doesn’t expect you to do anything. Not when you just got away from a monster. Ironic, coming from him.

When his shirt is finally moved aside, your gasp fills the room loudly enough to drown out even the applause on television. “Oh gods…” It’s right there — the relatively small marks look bigger on his skin but they’re unmistakable. Max is wearing your mark. “I—but—how?” You manage, holding your breath and trying to contain yourself so you don’t reach out and touch him without permission. “I lost my soulmate’s marks four years ago. How do you still have mine?”

Here comes the part that you aren’t going to believe. “There’s an explanation for it, but, you’re going to think I’m nuts.” You frown slightly, but you don’t say anything so he continues. “I—uh, I died four years ago. I mean, I was destroyed. And when I was brought back…all my tattoos and shit, scars, they were gone.”

“You…died and were brought back?” Chewing on your bottom lip, you can’t quite fathom what the hell he might mean by that but all that comes to mind is those fast-paced scenes from medical dramas. “Were you…in an accident or something?” It wouldn’t explain how his scars and tattoos are all gone unless…you suppose skin grafts would explain it. But that’s a lot of skin grafts.

“Not exactly.” He gives a wry grin, looking down at you with a small shrug. “I got staked.” It still irritates him how Evan won, but he could admit he got cocky. Made mistakes. At least he was brought back for a second chance.

“Sure. Sure. Of course.” Once it finally registers with you what he’s said, and that he’s decided to make up a story instead of telling you the truth, your heart sinks. The evidence that Max is your soulmate is right there on his skin, but as he buttons his shirt back up you frown that he clearly isn’t taking this seriously. “You were staked but somehow came back. How did I not think of that?”

He can hear the sarcasm in your voice, seeing the way your eyes clearly display your disbelief. “Well, how else do you kill a vampire?”

The way your heart clenches and then deflates is nearly instant. It’s broken without even realizing he had the power to break it. Finally seeing your birthmark on someone else’s skin has been your literal dream — and to be teased about it makes you feel like you should have just stayed in Tennessee with Derek. “Sure.” You murmur, shaking your head in disbelief and aching sadness. “You’re a vampire. Of course.”

“I am a vampire, Queenie.” Max had never flashed his fangs casually since he’s been brought back, and it feels foreign to let them slide down. Exposing the razor-sharp incisors to you.

“Fuck!” Surprised and more than a little scared, the way you jump backward on the couch would easily be called recoiling by anyone else. But it’s more about utter confusion on your part, if you’re honest. Witches exist, yes. And ghosts. And folk magic. But vampires? They were supposed to be one of those things that was fabricated by humans.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Max’s fangs disappear the second you recoil in horror. Stepping back from you to give you more space. “I just— didn’t want you thinking I was lying.” He sighs, looking down at his shiny loafers and then glancing back up at you. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Not my soulmate.”

“How…how long?” While your mind works to keep up with the information you’ve just been given, your heart aches at the way Max has reacted to your understandable shock. It’s a lot all at once and you’re reeling from overload. But evidence is evidence, and you can’t get much more concrete evidence of vampires being real than having your soulmate be one. “I— want to understand.”

Max keeps his distance, making sure that he doesn’t move. He knows that he can move quicker than you can see, or react to, but this is about making you feel safe. You haven’t run away in terror, so he’s taking that as a good sign. “When I was kicked out of Vanderbilt…the only college that would accept me was in Romania.” He tells you, snorting slightly. “You would think they wouldn’t lean into the legends, but you’d be wrong. The MBA program was run by vampires and I was— well, to graduate, you have to become one.”

“That sounds…simple.” Unexpectedly simple. In all honesty you had expected a long tale about illness or an accident and being offered the chance to pull through. Maybe it’s because of its simplicity that you’re inclined to believe it. It has none of the theatrics of good storytelling which makes it all the more likely to come from real life.

“I guess it does.” Max snorts. “My sire turned me and when I was…staked, he brought me back.” He’s surprised that you are still talking, but maybe it’s not that you don’t completely disbelieve him.

“That…seems less simple?” If you’re going to choose to believe him — which it seems like you are because you aren’t running and something in the back of your head is warming subtly but you can’t explain it for anything in the world. “Staking is supposed to be…it? That’s…in the stories, anyway?” Blowing out a breath, you sigh and trying to resettle yourself. “There are going to be a lot of questions.”

“As far as I knew, it was.” Max admits. “But he could and did bring me back. He’s a powerful vampire.”

“So…you’re…” Breathe. Remember to breathe. “You’re…not alive?” It’s almost an afterthought, the way your mind is starting to connect dots. “I guess…that explains why your hands are always kind of cold. I just figured you had bad circulation.”

“Technically.” He huffs, grinning slightly. “My heart hasn’t beat since I was changed. It won’t…until.”

“Until?” You prompt. That isn’t exactly something you just trail off on.

“There’s something that makes a vampire’s heart beat for a moment.” Max nods, as if that reinforces the statement. “A vampire’s soulmate can make their heart beat for a split second.”

To say you are incredulous would be generous, but the entire situation has you incredulous. Not just him. “I would say that I’ve never heard that before, but I’ve also only ever heard of vampires having soulmates in romance novels.”

“Well…now you have.” He wonders what you are thinking but for once, your eyes aren’t giving away what you are thinking.

“So…what is it?” You ask, shifting on the sofa a little to face him. The show and everything else have been forgotten. The only thing that matters tonight is this conversation.

“What makes our heart beat?” He asks, wondering what you would say to the answer. “A kiss.”

“As simple as that?” Years ago, you might have considered it a cheesy pickup line. Or at least cute, seasonally-themed one. But the story that Allison told you at the bonfire and the fact that Max has fangs are tied together in your mind.

“Simple as that.” He shrugs. “Or so I’ve been told. I don’t know if it’s true or not.” He bites his lip and sighs. “There’s also something else you need to know.”

“More than that you have my mark, you’re apparently a vampire, and you got revived after being staked?” More seems impossible. But considering you’re the daughter of witches living in the mansion of a mystery relative you never met who simply left you everything in her will? Sure. Let’s go for more. “What is it?”

“You know the bat that’s been visiting you?” Max shoves his hands in his pants pockets and shrugs his shoulders slightly, giving you a sheepish look.

“How do you know about that?” You know the girls from the coven haven’t mentioned it, and you haven’t told a soul. It had felt a little too silly to admit to anyone.

“Because…” he shrugs again. “It’s me.”

“It’s a bat.” Somehow this is truly the thing that you can’t wrap your head around, only associating bats with vampires because of the Dracula story — a novel. It isn’t real just like novels about witches aren’t real. The truth is always a bit different than those pages portray.

"Yeah." He nods, "a really cute bat that you call Cutie."

Your eyes widen, mouth falling open, and an instant later you’re sinking deeper into the couch in embarrassment. “That’s…how I’ve ended up in bed…” you murmur, disbelief evident in your voice. “The nights that I could swear I fall asleep on the chaise and then next morning I wake up in bed?”

"Yes." Max can see that you are curling in on yourself and he hates that. "I just— I didn't want you to be uncomfortable." He explains lamely. "I didn't – it wasn't anything, uh, touchy or anything."

It’s almost too much information, the facts at least how they have been presented to you, are working in your mind and clouding a deeply buried instinct of trust. As if the mark on your shoulder that binds the two of you together has reached into your consciousness and turned your mind on to all many of extra possibilities. Composing yourself enough to pick up the remote and turn off the tv, you blow out a puff of air like you’re somehow knocking the dust out of your mind. “I’ve…been reading to you almost every night. The bonfire at Mabon…the night last week when I just made up stories?” Every time you wake up in bed instead of in your chair. Every time he’s snuggled up to you in bat form and trilled happily, he understood every word you said to him. “That means…you saw my birthmark two days ago.”

He nods slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he tries to figure out what the fuck you are thinking. How you are coping with this. "I did." He snorts. "Damn near fell out of the air."

“This is…kind of insane.” Yet, somehow, you don’t actually think he’s lying. That is the strangest part of all.

He decides that the best way to prove this is to prove it. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and winks at you. There's no poof of smoke, no sound. One minute Max the human is standing there, and the next, Max the bat is flapping his wings in the air in front of you.

“Oh my god!” It happens so fast that you barely have time to react, but you cover your mouth with both hands and nearly shriek when your little bat friend is hovering in front of you as clear as day where Max was just standing. “Ohhh gods…it’s…it’s been you this whole time?” You manage to sound insistent and authoritative but only just.

He squeaks and then finds that he would rather talk to you as a human, so in the blink of an eye, Max is standing in front of you again. Rolling his shoulders slightly to work out the feeling of wings as he hums. "It's been me."

“Does anyone else know?” This time when you shift on the couch it’s to make room for him. If witches are real, and folk magic is real, and apparently vampires are too? Then you have questions.

"That I'm a bat? Or that I'm your soulmate?" He asks, unsure of which conversation you want to have.

“Both?” He seems to want to talk about them one at a time, though, so you swallow down your nerves and try to go about this in a rational way. “Vampire first. Soulmate second.”

"Um...." he shrugs, "Everyone?" He tells you. "I've not exactly hidden what I am. As far as the soulmate thing? No one but my sire."

“Everyone knows?” You just can’t believe that, along with everything else. It’s too out there. “Eddie knows? Mrs. Taylor knows?”

Max doesn't know if he had wanted him to tell you everything, but he's not going to lie. "They do." He nods. "Of course they know."

Suddenly the raw beef appetizers and blue rare steaks come back into your mind and you could just slap yourself for not seeing clues earlier. Although, technically? No one could blame you for not assuming your roommate is a vampire. “So you can eat regular food, then? You don’t only…drink blood?”

"I can eat regular food, but I prefer blood." Max grimaces. "Most food, like that orange cake thing the other week, tastes almost rancid. But it’s more palatable if its raw. Or has blood in it."

“Okay…” you nod slightly and are slightly mollified when he sits down beside you on the couch again. “I’m sorry if I’m asking a lot of questions, I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”

"You can ask me anything." He promises, settling out amongst the cushions and looking at you expectantly. "Hit me with your best shots."

“So…” Of all the three thousand questions in your mind, you try to pick just one to start with and end up floundering until you can pull in the thread of a thought. “You don’t speak to your family anymore but Eddie said you were adopted brothers. Does that…mean he’s a vampire, too?”

"Bingo." Max knew you were smart, that you are so much smarter than you think that you are. "We are 'brothers' because we were turned by the same vampire. But actually, Eddie is older than I am. He was turned in the nineties."

“So it’s just…non-biological family? Like your sire is your new father?” There’s something instinctively human about that, but you won’t say so. Not when you’re trying to get your facts straight.

"Kind of." He nods. "Eddie was, is more human than vampire at times. He was here before I arrived. And our sire thought he could teach me a few things. Like how to be a better human I guess."

“He eats more than you.” It was something that you had noticed and just filled away under likely useless knowledge, but Max never eats much at dinner unless it’s on the raw side and never shares the snacks he brings you. At most he’ll have a drink. A drink. You glance at his mug now and then back at him. “Is that blood?” You ask, extremely tentatively, looking back at the mug again. It’s a black mug with a lid and dark liquid inside so it’s impossible to tell what’s in it.

"Yes." He admits quickly. "Normally we would have ‘wine’ with dinner," he even uses air quotes. "So I would just be a person who preferred a dark cab. But I have to admit that I like those double walled tumblers. Keeps it warmer longer."

“That…” You groan, annoyed with yourself for having gotten in the way of things you didn’t understand. “That’s why you got upset that Mrs. Taylor hasn’t been serving wine with dinner. Not because you wanted alcohol. I’m so sorry.”

"Don't worry about that." Max shrugs slightly. "I understand why you don't like alcohol." He clenches his fist at the thought of someone hurting you in a drunken rage. Even if it was to make you cry. "It's not like you knew that the wine was non-alcoholic."

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” you promise him immediately, wanting to set things right. “It’s not fair that I get to eat whenever or wherever I want to and you can’t.”

"Don't." Max shakes his head, almost reaching out to touch you, but he's afraid you will recoil. "It's been okay with just having it in mugs or tumblers." He doesn't want you uncomfortable. It's a strange thing for him, considering his past, but Max wants to make sure that your comfort is the primary priority. "I won't die eating a rare steak."

“Max…” When he takes his hand back you instinctively feel yourself reaching forward, trying to close that gap for the two of you. Who knows if it’s more for him or more for you. “I may not…really understand this, but I do understand that even if you never want to be more than platonic soulmates, we’re still connected. And we live together. So some adjustments are going to have to get made if we’re both going to be comfortable.”

"I'm not—" He shakes his head. "I want you to be comfortable." He murmurs quietly. "I'm not a 'platonic' kind of man, right? But you— you've obviously been through a lot and despite some thinking I'm a douchebag, I'm not the type to fucking push myself on someone. Especially a woman I'm supposed to love and protect." He almost feels like he's trying to convince his parents that he didn't cheat, begging them to believe him. Instead, this time he's begging you to believe that he's not the type of man, vampire to ever push you for more than you wanted to give him.

“I want you to be comfortable.” Which puts you at an odd sort of stand still, if you’re honest, but that’s okay. At least, it’s a hell of a lot better than what you’ve had before. “I don’t want you to think that I expect anything from you. Hell, I don’t even know what I’d do if you said you wanted a relationship. It’s— I don’t expect you to say that, obviously, and I— I don’t know. Considering what I just got out of, I’m probably a terrible person to even think of like that.”

"Why?" Max frowns and shakes his head. "This asshole you were with obviously mistreated you. Abused you. You were probably emotionally detached from the relationship for months, maybe years before it ended." He had listened during the psychology classes he had to take. He had just pretended that it was just to get inside clients and competitors’ heads, to get an edge in business, but he had always been curious about the human condition. There were plenty of 'self help' books he had read during those sleepless hours. Theres only so many hours you can surf porn. "You are—" he huffs. "You're beautiful and kind. Caring. You deserve to be happy."

“Emotionally detached doesn’t mean I wasn’t still there every day. Dealing with the anger and the threats and whatever else he feels like dishing out that day. It’s just…” You want so badly to take his hand, but fear is a very real thing for you in this moment. Being unsure and afraid means your fingertips barely bump his before you’re worried about overstepping. “You shouldn’t have to deal with a partner who could crack or break down at any time. And at this point my list of triggers is a mile long. I’m broken.” And that fact has you near tears just from the simple fact of it, but you have to do your best to blink them away. “You deserve so much better than that.”

"You aren't broken." Max hisses, trying very hard to control his anger. It wouldn’t be directed at you, but at the bastard that had convinced you that you were somehow lacking because he had been. "No one broken would have the strength to travel to a new place and start their life over." He growls. "No one broken would accept the strange circumstances they are faced with. You damn sure wouldn't be as kind and giving as you are. If you're broken, you can't possibly dance the way that you do. You couldn't."

“I feel broken, then.” Sniffling quietly, you wipe away an escaped tear with the hand that isn’t near his. “And I have no idea how long it will take me to not feel that way.”

Max can't help but reach in, hating how you are crying because of him. His fingers brushing yours and he's happy that you don't pull away in fear as he wipes the tear away. "I'm a vampire, sweetheart." He reminds you with a quiet chuckle. "I've got eternity if that's what it takes."

It’s cheesy and sweet, and you crack a smile when his cold hand touches your warm skin. “Would you really do that?”

“What else do I have to do?” Max asks softly, grinning back at you. “I don’t—I was always wondering about my soulmate. I have been drawn to you.”

"I kind of...brushed it off in the beginning," you admit with a note of guilt in your voice. "Tried to tell myself if it's just that you're my type and I shouldn't think that you're cute because you're my roommate. But...this sort of changes things."

“Don’t worry about what you did or what you might do.” Max protests. “I’m not going to yell at you. Mrs. Taylor would tear me apart.”

"She might have a little trouble with that." A small chuckle escapes you, unable to believe the reality of the situation. But Max's cool hand in yours is very real proof. "With you being a vampire and all."

"Not as much trouble as you might think." After all, the housekeeper is a much older vampire than he is. He doesn't even know how long she had been working for him and Cookie.

“No!” The implication of that and the amused smile on his face has you sitting up in surprise. “Mrs. Taylor, too? Is everyone here a vampire and I was just completely oblivious?”

“We try very hard to not make it obvious.” Max excuses your oversight easily. “But you are the only person with a pulse on this estate.”

“I—” Somehow this time it’s amusing that you didn’t know instead of concerning, and you huff out a laugh. “Cookie knew, right? She had to have known.”

“Of course she knew.” Max snorts. “Hard to not know when her soulmate was also a vampire.”

You have never been so acutely aware of your breath as you are when you’re blowing out a sigh in front of a man you now know to be a vampire and you shake your head in that age-old signal of disbelief. “The story Alli told me was true, then? About the witch and her vampire soulmate and all that…gods I feel like such an idiot.”

“It’s true.” He nods, smiling slightly. “Cookie was a powerful witch. And her soulmate is my sire.” It seems like an important piece of information for you to have.

“This just gives me so many more questions.” You admit, laughing quietly. “But I guess…having a vampire for a soulmate runs in the family.”

“I guess.” He doesn’t know why he had wanted you to have a vampire soulmate, but that is a question you can ask him. “I know it’s a lot.”

"It is." And you won't pretend otherwise. That would be worse than disingenuous, given that this is your soulmate and these are the people around you. This is your entire life now. And honestly? You don't want to change it. Which is a whole other issue you will grapple with privately – the fact that some of the nicest people you've ever met are vampires seems to go against every story about the creatures that has ever been told. "But I have my baggage and you have yours. It's...it's honestly not nearly as bad as how some other people have it. Or even anywhere near as bad as my last relationship."

“Do you want me to kill him?” Max asks. “I normally don’t waste food, but it seems like he would taste disgusting.”

The question is startling but not necessarily out of bounds, but you shake your head without even giving it consideration. “I’ll be happier if I can just forget he ever existed,” you tell Max honestly.

“Okay, but you let me know if you change your mind.” He insists.

“I’m not going to ask you to kill someone.” The idea is too much to even fathom and you shake your head again. “Is that…do I want to ask how you all get your blood?”

“Blood bank.” Max smirks. “Or donors. Willing donors.” He adds. “We don’t really have to skulk in shadows and trick people into giving us their blood in today’s society.

“That’s reassuring.” It’s downright relieving, actually, because with your hand in his you don’t really want to think about how he’s had to survive.

He doesn’t mention that he used to play with his food before. The new lease on life or immortality he had been given had come with a ‘sanctity of life’ outlook. He didn’t think you would be okay with him as your soulmate if he kept eating people anyway. “Absolutely.” He gives you an innocent grin.

"This has been an...enlightening night. To say the least." All of the information weighs on you and on your mind, making you feel heavy but in a very different way than the heaviness would feel when someone like Derek used to be upset with you. It's different. Like you know this time it will all settle.

“I’m sorry that your show has been ruined.” Max glances at the clock and realizes that the entire show has ended.

"You're more important than a tv show." There isn't a single note of hesitation in your voice and you give his hand a small squeeze. "And that will always be true. I always said that if I ever met my soulmate that they would be my first priority in everything. I'm standing by that."

It’s been a long time, maybe even never, when someone put Max above anything else. It’s oddly sweet and he looks down at your hand in his. “I—okay.” He nods quietly. “What else do you want to know?”

"Is there anything you want me to know? Or anything you want to know about me?" He looks so surprised that you would make him a priority that you have to wonder if his parents weren't the first people to not have faith in him. Which is pretty heartbreaking, and unfortunately you know exactly how it feels.

He frowns, hating the next part, so he huffs slightly. “Being that I’m—well, dead technically, if we ever got to the point of…intimacy…” He breaks off and looks down at your hands again. “I can’t give you kids.”

That...is a very good point. And one you hadn't thought of. But since it seems to upset him you're not going to harp on it. Not even a little bit. "Well, I think you know I like pets a whole lot," you joke, laughing softly. No one knows that better about you right now than he does. "When we get to that point, it will all be fine."

He gauges your eyes, wanting to see if you are just telling him what he wants to hear and when he finds that you are serious, he chuckles. “Okay.” He nods. “I’ll get you a real pet bat then.”

"I looked it up," you can't help but grin, a slightly guilty laugh coming out of you. "They're kind of illegal to have, and you can get rabies from petting them. You were just...too cute to resist."

“Well, I don’t have rabies.” He snorts and pretends to look offended. “So I’ll change into a bat when you’re missing Cutie.”

"Is it cheesy to say you're cuter like this?" It feels cheesy, and it definitely feels presumptuous to say, but it's out of your mouth now and there's nothing you can do about it.

“Yeah?” Max preens, smugly grinning like he’s just struck the winning lottery ticket. “It’s not cheesy at all, sweetheart.”

"The suits are nice, too," you mumble, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks at both the admittance and his obvious glee hearing it.

“They are nice.” He admits, scooting a bare inch closer to you. “Tailored is the way to go. Better quality than off the rack stuff.”

"I'll have to trust you on that." From warm to burning, your cheeks get hotter instantly, and you duck your eyes away for a second to bite back an unaccustomed smile. "You have much better fashion sense than me."

“Doubtful.” He tuts, shaking his head. “I saw your competition outfits and you can’t tell me you didn’t design them.”

“I learned a little bit from my mother,” you admit with a shrug. It won’t do any good to tell him that Derek had you on strict allowance after always making you use your paycheck for bills and groceries and his beer. The few new things you’ve bought in Newport are the first clothes you’ve had not from a church basement in years. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten it all now.”

"Then it will be fun remembering it all." Max reasons, making it sound simple. He has a good idea from your reaction why you are insisting that you don't have fashion sense, but you also need to remember that you have more money that you could possibly spend in one shopping spree.

“I trust you to pick.” The submission is so easy, so ingrained, that you don’t even think about it. Which speaks volumes about the kind of dictation you’ve been living under. “Whatever you want me to wear is fine.”

"What if we picked together?" He's sure that you have natural style, but you've been so stifled, it's almost natural to repress it. He wants you to start realizing that you can do whatever you want.

“Is that something you would want to do?” You would never go so far as to consider it a date, but spending more time with him after this newfound revelation has an undeniable appeal. You’ve liked Max almost since the beginning. This is an extraordinary next step to take.

"It's not like I would hate it." Max doesn't want you to feel obligated, but he gives a small shrug. "I know the coven has been showing you around, but maybe they haven't taken you everywhere."

"We certainly haven't been clothes shopping." Somehow you can't imagine Max even in a regular mall, but shopping with him sounds like it might be all the more fun for it. A unique experience. "I..." you chuckle softly. "I have nothing but free time these days."

He smirks slightly, finding it ironic that you have the life of leisure while he had work. He was the one that was immortal. "That's not a bad thing, Queenie."

"I'm still getting used to it." Though you highly doubt that you ever truly will, if it will make him less embarrassed to be seen with him you will definitely work harder on your wardrobe.

"Nothing wrong with that." He chuckles. "I can imagine it's hard to go from worrying about your hours, your pay, to not having to anymore."

"I'm honestly kind of surprised to hear that you still work as hard as you do," you admit. "In the stories, vampires are always fabulously wealthy."

"I'm still a baby vamp." Max snorts, shrugging slightly. "Those vampires are also hundreds of years old. So I've still got to create that wealth."

"Ah." Nodding in understanding, you can't help but smile that he's still holding your hand. "Starting from the ground up. Got it."

He snorts and nods. "Exactly. But don't worry, I'm pretty damn good in a board room. Making deals and money."

"I fully believe that you could sell ice to a Norwegian." From what you've seen, he has the confidence and swagger to do just about whatever he wants.

Your outrageous comment makes him laugh, completely charmed by the faith that you have in him when you haven't even seen him close a deal. "I should use that." He admits, rubbing your warm skin with his thumb.

"If anybody ever remarks that you have cold skin after a handshake, you just tell them it's how your soulmate teases you about it." Gods you just ache when he laughs, and you feel like you might explode with smiling.

Max smirks slightly and reaches into his pocket with his free hand. Pulling out a warmer packet. "I try to make sure that I warm my hands up right before I need to shake hands." He admits bashfully.

"Clever." It's something you never would have thought of in a million years and the fact that he's utilizing it so effectively proves your point that he must be extremely good at what he does.

"A good handshake can make or break a deal." Max admits, having learned that when a pharmaceutical exec had told him that he couldn't trust a man with poor circulation. It had cost him a fifteen-million-dollar contract. "I really like warm places." He hums. "Like right there." He reaches up and touches your clavicle where he had snuggled in as Cutie. "And I can hear your heartbeat."

"Is it loud?" You blurt out the question before you can stop yourself, but it's one of those things that when you read fantasy books you had always wondered.

"When I'm close by, it seems like that's all I can hear. But it's gentle." His fingers brush your skin gently, caressing you. "I like when you sleep. It slows down, like your breathing. You are a very peaceful sleeper."

"I very rarely have vivid dreams." The fact that he's listened to you sleeping seems so utterly romantic that it steals your breath for a long moment. "They only started up again maybe a week ago. But they're not bad. Just kind of...nostalgic."

"What do you dream about?" He asks curiously. Wanting to know what you think about when you are lost in your dreams. He hopes they are sweet, kind. A reassurance that you deserve only the good things in life.

"Um..." Suddenly terrified that you shouldn't have said anything, you try to swallow that impulsive fear and be open with him. Since he's been so open with you tonight, he deserves that. "I had an imaginary friend...when I was a kid. And I've started dreaming about him again. But...also...sometimes...you."

His brow raises, surprised that you dream about him. But he's intrigued by your admission of an imaginary friend. "What was your friend like?" He asks, smiling slightly at the thought of a little girl with her friend, playing by herself in the room.

"He's very kind. And encouraging. And gave oddly good advice for being the figment of a child's imagination." Which makes you smile in turn, and you lean in to Max's side slightly. He feels safer than almost anywhere else in the world right now. "With curly black hair and a big smile and I always imagined that he gave the best hugs in the world."

Curly black hair. Max stares at you in shock. He had been visiting you when you were a little girl. That had to be what it was. He had convinced you that it was dreams. Probably coming at night so it would be more plausible. "You didn't hug him?"

"Invisible friend, Max." You laugh softly. "I imagined that I did a hundred thousand times. But it's not like he ever existed anywhere other than my mind."

"What would this friend. talk to you about?" He asks.

"Everything I guess." Sinking a little closer in to Max's side, you tilt your head slightly like you're trying to let a memory drip out. "School. Dance classes. My parents and my friends. I guess I must have used it like a sounding board. Working out all my little kid problems by talking to Yayo and then playing tea party with him afterward once everything was better."

"Yayo?" Max tilts his head. "Did you name him that or did he tell you to call him that?"

"Who knows," you shrug slightly. The memory is nostalgic enough that you don't notice how he reacts to hearing the name. "I was a little kid the first time I remember him, so I must have made it up somehow."

"Cute." He smirks slightly, imagining him coming into your dreams and spending time with you. He needs to find out why you are so important.

“Everybody has imaginary friends, right?” It had always just seemed like such a natural thing to you. Sure it was unusual that your made up friend was a grown ass man, but it’s not like it was a manifestation of abuse or anything. Yayo had always been your biggest fan and biggest supporter. Whether it was soothing your childhood fears, getting excited with you to start dance classes, or just listening to you babble about your day as kid are want to do. “Mine just wore fancy clothes and had a Spanish accent. Who knows? I must have seen an Antonio Banderas movie as a little kid and made up a character with the voice or something.”

“I am sure that your Yayo was a good thing for you.” Max frowns slightly, wondering why he had skulked in shadow and come to you in the night. “It sounds like he was.”

“Imaginary friends fill a gap.” You shrug your shoulders a little, leaning against him. “I’m sure you had one, too. Most kids do.”

“I didn’t.” Max admits. “But that’s because I was normally trying to surround myself with people. To pretend I was better than I was.”

“Better than you are?” Brows furrowing immediately, you tilt your head back to look at him and frown. “But you’re fantastic.”

“Not really.” Max snorts. “If I were better, my parents wouldn’t have abandoned me. I wouldn’t have needed my sire to bring me back.”

“The person you’ve been with me…the person I’ve gotten to know?” You shrug your shoulders again, wondering if a compliment from you is worth anything at all. “I think he’s pretty fantastic. Maybe you were just finding yourself.”

Your words are probably some of the most soothing he’s ever heard and he bites his lip. “I really want to be a bat right now so you will scratch my head.” He admits with a huffing laugh.

“C’mere.” You can’t help but grin, and you cradle his head against your shoulder with one hand before starting to scratch, gently and soothingly, over his short-cropped hair and scalp. “Does it feel as good when you’re like this?”

“Oh shit.” Max’s eyes close and he leans into your touch. “How— it’s so good. This is why dogs love people. It has to be.”

Your blunted fingernails take over his scalp and you shift so he can cuddle closer if he wants to. “But they don’t love vampires?” Somewhere in your memory you remember him remarking that dogs were not terribly big fans of him.

“Nah.” He grumbles slightly. “Knows we are a more dangerous predator.”

Humming in understanding as your nails find a rhythm gently running along his hairline, you revel in the closeness without expectation. Without demand. Without rules. Just simple intimacy without conditions.

How he ended up with his head in your lap, he couldn’t tell you, but it’s the most relaxed he’s ever been. “This is nice.”

“You don’t have to be a bat to get scritches and cuddles,” you promise him with a quiet giggle.

“Yeah?” He grins up at you. “Might have been my favorite part of the day. Your reading voice is really nice.”

“I can still read to you.” The idea that he actually enjoys it makes your cheeks heat up again, and you rub his shoulder with your other hand. “And you don’t have to carry me to bed anymore. Though it was very sweet of you.”

“I liked doing it.” He pouts slightly. “I’m either a wicked vampire carrying you off, or a valiant hero saving a damsel in distress.” He grins. “You pick which one I imagine.”

“I guess it will depend on my mood.” It’s intimidating, and a little embarrassing, realizing that he’s heard every time your heart has skipped a beat around him. But at least this time when it happens, he’s smiling right at you. “You can…keep doing it if you really want to.” It’s utterly romantic, as far as you’re concerned, but you didn’t want him to feel that he had to.

“You sleep, you should be comfortable.” He doesn’t mention that he had wished he could lay down beside you. That would be too far, at least as a human.

“Well, we’ll have to find a new way to curl up.” The way you are now is so nice. So calm. And deeply domestic, which you would never point out. “You won’t exactly fit on my shoulder for me to read to you like this, and that chaise is not built for two.”

Max smirks, resisting the urge to tell you that it could be, as long as you are laying on him. Instead, he hums, surprised you want to give up your furry little friend.

“If you want.” It will always be up to him. You’ll never push or impose. But you want him to know that — as small as your steps forward might be — you’re willing to take them.

“I want.” He closes his eyes and burrows his head into your lap more. “I think I’d scare you with what I want, Queenie.”

“I’m used to being scared,” you admit, fingers still raking through his short hair. “I’d rather be intimidated by something good than afraid of darkness.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid at all.” Max nearly growls, but he doesn’t want to make you nervous. “I’d rather be staked again than hurt you. Or let someone else hurt you. Just think of me as your own, personal guard bat.”

“Life is scary.” Looking down into his face, there is something there that you can’t identify, but it’s less so than in the beginning. There are fewer secrets now. Fewer. Not none. But you would never ask anyone to change for you, and especially not in the course of just a few hours. “And I guess…so is the afterlife. But it’s less scary with an actual partner, I think. At least, I have to think that it is. Hope that it is.”

"I can be rude, downright inconsiderate. Selfish. Maybe too much of a flirt, but I've never, ever wanted to make my soulmate cry." He admits quietly. "Always said that whoever she was would get the best of me."

“Nobody’s perfect.” Your hand stills, leaving only your thumb stroking along the shortest of the hairs on the back of his neck. “I’m certainly not. I would never expect you to be. All that matters is that we try to be the best we can for each other.”

"Why are you so sweet?" He's slightly confused by it. It's obvious you've not had an easy time, and yet you are so willing to accept this when you had just sworn off relationships. "So accepting?"

It’s confusion in his eyes, not criticism, and you frown slightly at the question. It seems fairly obvious to you, but there is more than one answer. “Part of it is just…me. And I haven’t been able to be myself in so long that I thought I had forgotten her. But I guess that’s not the case after all. But also…you’re my soulmate. If I was ever going to accept anyone, wouldn’t it be you?”

"I never thought my soulmate would accept me." It's a hard thing to admit, a sobering one. After he had been turned, he had been certain that he wouldn't be accepted. When he had refused to let him put any marks back, it had just be a silent confirmation of those deeply internal views.

“Surprise.” Sniffling back a laugh, your fingers trace his cheek and jaw in a move far bolder than you thought you could feel. That deep thread that connects soulmates truly is stronger than you ever thought. “I thought I’d lost you when all of your marks disappeared. So surprise for me, too.”

Max sighs, closing his eyes in regret. "My sire— he didn't want me to put the marks back." He explains. "Said it would cause confusion. Ordered me not to. And since I'm dead, I can't really scar anymore."

“If I got a tattoo do you think it would show up?” It’s not really something you had ever considered before, but he’s right. Wounds probably don’t affect him the same way anymore. But ink? Ink might.

"I don't know." He admits quietly. "Your birthmark is the only thing I have."

“The next time you speak to your sire, you could always ask him.” Whoever Max’s sire is, he sounds a bit like a strict father. But there’s probably a reason for that even if you don’t know what it is.

He chuckles. "If he decided to answer me, it would be in a riddle."

“Maybe I should ask him, then.” You offer him a valiant smile, like you’re offering to go into battle. “If you wanted, I mean.”

"You would do that?" His amazement is astounding, nearly making the blood in his system rise to the surface again.

"If you want me to." He seems so genuinely shocked that anyone would do something nice for him that it breaks your heart a little. After all, you know that feeling all too well. "We could pick out a design together, too."

“I- I honestly don’t know what to say.” He confesses softly. “I really don’t.”

“If you don’t like the idea, it’s okay to say so.” But from the expression on his face says otherwise, and it softens your own smile into something akin to dreamy. “But I think it would be nice.”

“No, I like it— it’s just— it’s surprising.” He tells you. “In a good way.”

"I...liked having your tattoos. Having that part of you." He lights up when he smiles and it makes your heart skip again. "Now that we know each other a little, it would be nice to have that to share."

“You never wanted tattoos?” He asks curiously, wondering why you never put a mark on him besides the odd scars that were now gone. “Or did the asshole not want any on you?”

He has hit the nail on the head, of course, and you bite your lip. "Big tattoos aren't great for competition. But...Let's just say he wasn't sad when they disappeared one day."

Max blows out a raspberry. “He sounds like a dick.” He would say more, but he doesn’t want to upset you. “I’m glad you’re here and not still around that prick.”

"I'm glad I'm here, too." Especially now. Now that you know what he is to you.

Max is quiet for a moment. Letting the seriousness of this settle and he doesn’t have a quip, or a joke about it. No snide remark comes to mind. He just feels…peaceful around you. “Do you want to dance with me tomorrow?” He asks finally.

"Yes." You don't even have to think about it. Or consult a schedule. Or second-guess. "Definitely."

“Yeah?” He grins, twisting his head to look up at you. “We do dance together really well, don’t we?”

"Not bad for a few turns around the ballroom." Dragging your fingers through his hair again, you can't help but smile, feeling warmed all the way through. Ironic considering Max is so cool to the touch. "We'll have to go for something a little more complex this time."

"Oh...are you thinking of something special for the opening dance of the ball?" He asks with a smirk. "It's supposedly tradition for the hostess to start the dancing."

"You just want to show off." Still, it sounds sweet. Like he wants to show you off, which seems entirely foreign but utterly romantic. "It might be sweet, though. We'd have to pick a good song, of course. And make up the choreography."

"Tempo should be lively, celebratory." He tells you. "Starting things off with a bang, as it were."

"An upbeat Viennese Waltz?" It seems like the thing to do, traditional but good for an ice breaker. "I don't want to do something that feels staged and showy...even if that's exactly what it is. A salsa or something like that would feel out of place."

"Especially at a Gilded Age party." Max agrees. "Plus it will almost convince people they could do it with a little practice."

"Maybe we can put flyers for the tickets up at some dance studios around town?" Not that you know of any, but there is a decent chance that he might.

"Perhaps we should invite the teachers to the ball." He offers after a moment.

"It would certain be beautiful for the dancing." You hum dreamily, imagining all of those whirling dresses in the ballroom that is now so familiar to you. "Maybe we could go to a free dancing night at each studio to give the invitation and talk it up a little? Since it's for charity and all."

"There are several dance studios in the area." He knows you will be all dreamy about it. "I'll email you the list and you can call them tomorrow. Set something up."

Alright. Looks like overcoming phone anxiety is on the schedule for tomorrow. You nod and give his shoulder a squeeze. "I guess we'll be dancing together a lot."

He sees the way you freeze for a split second before you try to push it aside. "What is it?" He asks softly, wondering if you will pretend everything is fine or if you will confide in him.

"Nothing," you insist immediately, knowing that previous to the last few weeks you would have been expected to shut away every ounce of your anxiety in order to make sure everything got done precisely the way Derek wanted. The fact that Max gives a damn how you feel about things is so strange to process. "It's—" Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes briefly but force a smile. "I'm not always very good on the phone. You know...anxiety. But I'll manage."

"How about I take a portion of the calls?" Max offers. "And if you find that you can't do it, I'll take them all."

"No, it's okay." The fear of being a burden is instant. It seizes like ice water through your veins, and even though you know logically that Max isn't the same kind of man that Derek is, you still shake your head tightly. "I can take care of it. There's no reason for you to do extra work."

“It’s not like I would mind.”

“You work all day. I don’t. I can manage it.” There is no way on earth you’re going to let this slide backward and you shake your head. You’ll make those damn phone calls yourself just so he doesn’t start to think you’re untrustworthy or — like you said you were before and he didn’t believe you — broken.

“If you’re sure.” Max doesn’t want you to be overwhelmed. “You’ve got a lot on your plate with planning this event. I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“If I get overwhelmed, I’ll split the calls into two days.” You promise him, not really knowing if that will help at all but willing to give the — as they say — old college try.

“It’s okay.” Max promises you. He doesn’t want to call attention to it, but he captures your hand and brings it to his mouth. He kisses it softly. “You will be settling into your nickname of ‘Queenie’ before you know it.”

******

Sitting in the teahouse with your cell phone, a notebook, and a list of dance studios had seemed like a good plan for the afternoon. You’ve called three of the four studios on the island but the fourth seems always to be too busy to pick up their line and it has you frustrated and anxious that you can’t finish your task. At this point you feel like you’ve been twiddling your thumbs waiting for Max to get home, and you finally decide to pack up and go inside, intending to catch Mrs. Taylor before she starts making dinner for the night. She should know that you know — and that you have no intention of keeping her or Max or Eddie or anyone else from having the blood they need.

Renee had told you before about the reason for the call buttons in every room of the house. How they shouldn’t be looked at like ringing a cow bell to demand service, but as a polite way of requesting to speak with a staff member when you need something. Rather than the old-fashioned families a hundred years ago or more barging into their servants’ areas, you press the button as a polite request. Trying to keep that in mind, you choose the library as a place to sit once you reach the house, and press the button hidden in the wainscoting before settling down at the desk. Whether Mrs. Taylor or Renee answers will be up to them.

“Ms. Dolly?” Mrs. Taylor’s voice immediately comes over the intercom, like she had been hovering next to it. You don’t know that she was across the kitchen, but that’s the beauty of being able to move so fast. It’s why her and Renee can handle the housework and keep the place spotless.

“Do you have time to speak for a moment before starting dinner, Mrs. Taylor?” The little speaker box on the desk is reminiscent of the 1950s and makes you smile. It’s odd. But it works.

“Of course, Ms. Dolly, I will be right up.” In the time it would take a normal human to come upstairs, she will put together a light tray for you with the fresh apple cider that she had thought you would enjoy. You seem to like the fall theme.

It takes the housekeeper only five minutes to appear in the library doorway with a tray of assorted snacks and a large drink, and this time instead of feeling like a burden that she is serving you, you find yourself amused that she had so much time to fix the tray. Max had demonstrated his vampiric speed for you last night by zipping across the second-floor hallway so now you have a better idea of how fast your housemates can move. “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I know your time is precious.”

“It was nothing, ma’am.” She nods her head and sits down across from you when you motion her to sit. “Did you wish to discuss the menu for the party? I’ve already made several varied menus for you to choose from.” She pulls cards out of her sweater to hand to you.

“Well…yes. But I wanted to speak to you about the…general dinner menus as well.” Just because you had been trying to hype yourself up for this doesn’t mean that you had figured out how to go about it gracefully. Grace is only something you have when you dance — not really in conversation.

“Is there something you don’t like?” She looks positively horrified by the prospect and curses herself. She had been treating you like Cookie, and there’s a very real chance your palette is completely different. “If you give me an idea of what you wish to have, I will make sure to adjust accordingly.” She assures you.

"It's not that. Your cooking is wonderful. In all honesty it's high above what I'm used to and I couldn't possibly ask you to change a thing. Not for me." You shake your head profusely to dispel any worries, practically reaching out to take her hand, but you have a feeling that she would find that improper. "It's just that...I have been made aware that...Max and Eddie and...well, everyone else in the house...you all have rather a different diet than I do. And that there have been a few things hidden from me until now, which I presume was done so as not to stun or panic me."

Surprised would be a mild way to put her reaction. Mrs. Taylor’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plate and her stomach drops. “Who told you that?” She had been assured by the coven on the first visit to the manor since you have befriended them that the witches would not tell you.

"Max did, but please understand that he did it for the most noble reason possible." After talking it out with him last night, the two of you had decided that your soulmate status would be impossible to keep quiet in the house so it was probably best just to let people know. If it had taken the two of you only a few weeks, it was sure to come out quickly to everyone else. "We had a long discussion last night about some very important things. And I...I appreciate that you all did your best to make me feel comfortable here. I do feel comfortable here. But I don't want any of you to have to hide your blood anymore. That would be incredibly rude of me to ask when I am the only human in the house."

"It is not a problem." She insists, leaning in slightly. "We are used to being...more formal about things than the average vampire. Cookie had been pleased with it as well as her soulmate. He was the one that had set that formality in place. However, this is your home and what you wish will be."

"The formality is...it's sort of nice, if I'm honest. It's comforting to have an order to how things are supposed to work. But it's really fine with me if Eddie and Max just want to have blood at dinner instead of...well...food. I understand that it used to be served in wine glasses and that my dislike for drinking sort of threw a monkey wrench into that habit."

She smiles softly and tilts her head, a motherly sort of affection for you making her squeeze your hand gently. "It was not vexing to anyone save for Max and well, he likes to make a nuisance of himself at times." She confides. "I think it was that 'only child' syndrome he had."

"He likes to feel special." There's something soft and affectionate in your tone that you just can't help, but you swallow down any sort of guilt that bubbles to the surface from it. Max is your soulmate after all. And it's been weeks since you left Derek's house. There doesn't need to be any guilt whatsoever.

Her brow raises at the change in tone, pursing her lips in amusement. "I gather that the snack trays he has been putting together for you during your show has changed your mind about Max?"

"It's not—" Your cheeks burn hot and you suddenly wish you were a turtle so you could just bury yourself in your shell at the first mere hint of embarrassment. "It's more than that," you tell her quietly, acknowledging that this is surely the opportune time to tell your vampiric housekeeper the truth about what you and Max are to each other. You're just not sure how she will react. "We...discovered...last night..." You take a deep breath, suddenly very aware of that action around so many people who don't need to do it at all. "That Max and I are soulmates."

It's like the key to the riddle of why Max was brought here suddenly slides into place. Her eyes light up and even if she is surprised, she is charmed by soulmates. Her own dear Mr. Taylor is her own, so very fortunate to have found each other so many years ago and to continue to be deeply in love. "That is...spectacular." She hums, sure that he was always aware of the connection, even if he had not confided in her.

"It's very unexpected." And it has you smiling like a lunatic, but you clear your throat and try to compose yourself. "But it really has shown me that I would prefer to have fewer secrets around me from now on. I used to be utterly surrounded by them, and I don't want this next chapter of my life to be that way again."

"Understood." While there is still one secret that she must keep, Mrs. Taylor is determined to make sure you are aware of most of what happens here. She is bound by her sire to keep his secrets, and that unfortunately predates your wishes.

"I appreciate that, Mrs. Taylor." There is some reticence in her – years of having to read Derek's moods at the drop of a pin have made you sensitive to things like that – but you won't push. Just because you've asked for openness doesn't mean it is an easy thing to give, and it means nothing if it is demanded. "I have nothing but respect for you and I'm so grateful to you for helping me to feel at home here so quickly."

"This is your home." She promises. "It was always meant to be your home."

"I'm sure there must have been other relatives along the way that the house could have gone to." You can't imagine that there were no other options for an heir, but you would be lying if you said you weren't grateful for Cookie's choice.

"No." Mrs. Taylor looks down at your joined hands and smiles sadly. "Unfortunately, due to a...family issue, you were the only choice in Cookie's mind for a recipient."

"I wish I could thank her." Your mysterious and enigmatic great-aunt has changed your life entirely and you only wish you could tell her how much it has meant to you. Because of Cookie, you know your soulmate.

"I know she would have loved you." Mrs. Taylor looks a bit misty-eyed, even though vampires don't cry often. She smiles again. "But I know that she knows. Wherever she is now."

"She was very important to you." That much is obvious, and it gives you an equally unexpected reason to smile. Knowing that your great-aunt was loved so dearly is reassuring.

"She was a wonderful lady, in every sense of the word." She nods and looks down again and clears her throat. "Please look over the menu cards I've created and let me know what you are thinking?"

"Of course. I'll look them over now. Thank you, Mrs. Taylor." It's obvious that she doesn't want to continue the conversation and you respect her too much to push, so you simply nod and pick up the cards that she laid out in front of you. "Everything you make is wonderful so I'm sure the only difficulty will be choosing between delicious options."

She smiles proudly and nods. "The apple cider is fresh." She tells you. "I thought it would pair nicely with the pumpkin scones that I had experimented with."

"You very quickly nailed down my weakness for fall flavours." There are crunchy sugar crystals on top of the scones and something that smells suspiciously like honey butter in the ramekin sitting alongside the small plate and full mug.

“It seemed like the cozy comforts would be to your liking.” Mrs. Taylor admits with a smile. “I enjoy having a human in the house.” She admits. “Vampires can eat, but normal food does not taste as appetizing to us as it does to humans, and I enjoy cooking.”

“I am very grateful for that, and for you.” A small smile cracks your face, as uncharacteristic as that may seem for you sometimes. “And I am more than happy to eat anything you feel like cooking. I’m pretty abysmal at it myself.”

“That is no concern.” She waves off your comment about yourself. “I am here to make sure you eat well.”

“Do you mind if I ask you one more thing?” Still working through all the questions you have about the circumstances and about your distant relative, there is really only one more you wanted to ask for now.

“Anything.” Mrs. Taylor was halfway out of her seat, but she sits back down and looks at you expectantly.

“I was wondering…how long you had worked for Cookie? The real answer. Allison told me the story about her soulmate prolonging her life and I didn’t believe her then. But I do now…so I wondered. That’s all.”

Mrs. Taylor smiles, the twist of her lips slightly melancholic. “Two hundred and eighty-seven years.” She admits. “Her soulmate brought me to care for her right after they found each other.”

A split second of quick math has your jaw on the ground, and you press one hand to your heart instinctively. “That…she…1736? And they met right here where the house is built?”

“Back when it was the colonies.” She nods, chuckling quietly.

“Gods…” Exhaling a shaky breath, you nod, trying to wrap your head around this extraordinary piece of information. “She must have had a remarkable life.”

“When I tell you we have an extensive collection of Cookie’s things, her clothes, I mean extensive.” She’s proud of that, because it had been her idea to preserve it. It had been meant for someone else, but now, it’s yours.

The endless possibilities flow out in front of you in every direction but you wrap your hands around the large mug of cider and smile, nostalgic already for a past you can’t possibly remember. “I hope one day you might feel open to sharing some of her stories with me. And yours, as well.”

“Since you are aware of our nature and feel no concern, I have no issue sharing.” She pauses for a moment and then decides to share a vital piece of information. “We did not start the formality with the blood until Cookie had decided to no longer prolong her life.” She admits, folding her hands in her lap. “Then it was a measure of respect to make it seem like we were drinking wine.”

“That seems very respectful.” This household is nothing if not respectful. You know that. “It doesn’t need to be hidden anymore. I know you were…being respectful of me in different ways. But besides the initial shock? It seems…well, I feel a bit silly for knowing that magic is real my whole life and not even entertaining the ideas that vampires could be, too.”

“Some things are viewed as too fantastical. Like werewolves.” She hums as she stands. “I will have dinner ready at seven.” She promises before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

The immortal housekeeper is gone before you can open your mouth again, and you slump backward in your chair with her menus in front of you and a furrow between your eyebrows. Now you can’t help but wonder if werewolves are real, too…

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #mysterious inheritance

[chickpea0]

Going to be real for a sec, just thinking outloud because I know this is a safe place and I need to get thoughts out. Veeerry long! Not a vent just a brain dump. do not bother reading this unless youre really reallyyy into biographies lol this is literally 1,915 words

I'm stuck inbetween minds at the moment. I keep asking myself if regression, or dreaming, isn't really for me. I found agere and petre when I was very young, about 14; it piqued my interest because I'm a very curious person, interested in different lifestyles and ways to explore the self but I also think that because I was just coming out of childhood even though I thought my childhood had ended years before. I was just growing out of being a tween and at that stage in life, it's really startling going from childhood to seemingly adulthood overnight and it's quite natural and common for people to want to cling onto things when everything is being shaken up like that.

Intamacy with people, vulnerability and emotional closeness is always somethign I've struggled with and felt like it was just out of reach so the idea of allowing myself to be back at a stage where I was raw, authentic and less closed up was really really appealing. Plus, the idea of people understanding that and guiding me and just being around me would mean they *really* like me and they're not just there because they have to be, even though I've never had a caregiver though I have had like 2 online friendships where I could be baby around them which felt quite good but I never quite felt satisfied. probably because it was online and neither laster over 3 months. I'm practically always masking and the idea of being weird (I mean this without negative connotation) and expressive really sounded amazing. I have also always always always wanted to be apart of a community but I just never have. No clubs or hobbies that made me feel welcome growing up, no proper friend groups that made made me feel at home, I think I've been in a lot of fandom/online community spaces just because I wanted to feel apart of something though because I was never able to contribute it just felt like a one-way mirror.

So!! I find a lovely community like this! With a focus on mental health, togetherness, working through things and taking time to appriciate things, it's great! I love you guys! I can even make moodboards and little posts and I have a cg blog and a slightly bigger blog where I help boost creators on here. I have mutuals!!!!! People follow me!!! We talk on tags and comments!!! I feel like I have insider knowledge and experience because I've had a lot of oppertuinty to reflect on life and mental health and even on regression itself. But thing is I do not regress often at all. When I do it's for split seconds. When I'm really sleepy, when I'm allowing myself to be vulnerable, if I'm having a weird spacey day. I'm not sure if it's more dissociation or a sudden wave of emotion or what. I think I'm just generally an immature person some times. I haven't grown up yet, I'm only an adolescent. It's not something I want to force because forcing things like this, especially if it is dissociation, can be pretty bad for your brain. Age dreaming is a different thing though.

For me I'm between a rock and a hardplace. I do not feel like I regress organically enough to be on here nearly as much as I am. I'm so tense that I feel like I can't relax or open up enough to enjoy even age dreaming. Brainfog, sure! But it's not regression. I also do not want to edge too far and go into maladaptive nostalgia terratory. I feel, lately, like I kind of need to say goodbye and thank you to my childhood but it's over now and that doesn't have to be a bad thing. I think there's such a focus- everywhere online not just here- on "how good" the old days were. People making heart wrenching nostalgia edits with slowed minecraft music and ambient noise just to rake in veiws and to pull at your own heartstrings. It's natural to seek solace and yearn for something that was so familiar and safe especially at a time where not only is daily life changing for the individual but also for society at large. But rose tinted glasses are not accurate and can be dangerous. Nostalgia should be something that makes you feel light and refreshed. When you hear a song that you haven't heard in years and go 'oh! I remeber! I remember what my brain was like back then' and smile and move on. Maybe taking inspiration from it.

But.

I feel like my nervous system is so fried that making any progess is really draining and proper healthy coping mechanisms never seem to stick. I also feel very isolated, having no irl friends at the moment and not having any purpose like education, work, volonteering, passions, whatever. These are all things I have experienced for well over a decade which is... obviously a very large chunk of my life so far. So I really do need something to fill my life with, a familer space with familiar ideals and stuff. You guys are great. You have such refreshing takes and it just feels so calm and kind here. At the end of the day despite feeling a bit repetative at this point for me, I do enjoy looking at life through this lense. This place has not changed much at all since I started my blog in 2021. It's honestly one of the most consistant things in my day to day life! God. even the streets are changing but it's nice to know I can log on here if I need some reliability.

And thing is, I don't know if it's related to my ASD or my trauma or lack of experience in the world or none of those but I just feel a few steps behind my peers. They are all acting on their life plans or getting out and being social or enjoying new relationships. And I'm perfectly fine taking things at my own pace and growing in my own way but I just don't fit in really. I genuinely feel like I'll hit my stride in my mid twenties or older. Not because I'll have more qualifications or be high up in a career, I just feel like that is when I'll really start knowing and feeling like myself. That's the age when people generally start to figure things out. Basically, I like it here because I feel like I'm in a more similar life state. my focus is on getting through the day and making my own steps. I'm fine as long as I'm growing even if I'm burnt out lmao. Healing for over a decade drains you and I feel like my mental capacity is so small at the moment because of it. Like. I can't pick up a book or a new hobby or a job whatever because ALL of my bodily, mental, spiritual, emotional energies are going into mending and stuff. I feel like a 29 year old preschooler lol. 5 o'clock shadow and a sippy cup. haha. I like it here because it's like easy mode. it's like a holiday for your brain.

I'm honestly not sure what the point I started off with was. I have sooo many thoughts swirling in my head. At the end of the day I feel so burnt out and like I said, with such a small bandwidth that I feel like even regressing or dreaming or even just thinking about it is too much. Like. I used to cope and regulate by imagining scenarios in my head, like fanfics in my brain when I needed a little comfort but now I just can't! I can't imagine myself with a dream job or in a fantasy world or kissing someone cute, I just don't have it in me. It's not like I'm super low or anything, I'm actually generally pretty stable at the moment. I think what I want right now is to not feel alone. I don't want a relationship per se, not sure if it'd be fair to start something with someone but having a nice social circle would be a big relief. I can't remember ever really... having that. I guess I'm esoteric, with a full plate. I had a nice group of friends in college for about 2 years but thats dead now, we got on each others nerves at the end. But it was nice while it lasted. Imaging having a caregiver or being one is one of the only ways I can barely scratch that itch of wanting to rely on someone. Like. It's so deep at the moment, wanting comfort and all that, that "normal" soloutions to that just don't hit hard enough. Like I could imagine having a really nice friend group but irl I would need to be in a healthy friendship for quite a while before it started fulfilling that need, so imagining someone coddling me like I am a child, like I am something to be cherished, not just valued but cherished, that hits harder. thats nicer to think about. also also also co regulation + company is something i really desire.

I feel like I am so entwined with this community, more than anything else these days. It's sort of got a grip on me. and i dont know how i feel about that. none of you guys know me. i have mutuals, nice mutuals and people who are in my notes but none of you actually know me. i think maybe this place is more of a fantasy than a reality for me. and that tells me i need to distance myself but what else do i have?

I've tried taking a break before, you might remember, it only ended up being a few months but it was nice to come back.

right thats basically it. I assume if you've made it this far, seeing as I'm not even writing to anyone I'm just emptying my brain, I assume you're a very curious person. Someone who likes to feel involved. Like meeee. If anyone has any advice or sage wisdom or anything you want to say at all, please go ahead. This post is basically a bunch of thoughts with little resolve. This isn't really something I want to bring up with my therapist because onneee, I'm embarrassed, twwwooo she has most likely no idea of what age regression this, in this context. like. the age regression they talk about in regard to mental and psychological contexts, its pretty different to all this. anyway. i have other things in therapy to talk about lol maybe one day ill bring up that i feel like a small child in certain situations but let her lead that conversation. ah so.

yeah like. yeah. hi. if this resonates, im glad you found that. yeah. yeahhh i dont know. i have a lot of stuff going on. nothing in my life is straight forward. hence the... want to simplify things. I'm really tired now, wow!

to conclude, I'm a baby not necessarily a regessor. I'm running on fumes. i have a weird relationship with agere and im very hot and cold about it. goo goo ga ga but also i want to be respected and seen as a capable adult. i need a hobby. i need to rest but blehhhhh.

Here's a puppy as a treat for reading it all

#my biography guys #babbling #this probably has so many spelling errors and typos but im not going to run this through a spell checker because its basically just #brain dump

[szarolina]

intro

Witam! I had been lurking in the studyblr community before I left Tumblr a few years ago. Yet here I come again and hope I still fit since I'm not a student anymore. I hope we'll get along!

About

I'm Karolina and I'm 27 years old.

From Poland (with love ♡).

INTJ & 5w6 / 8w9

I'm a graduate of two Master degrees: 1) International Relations in Asia 2) Russian & Central Asian Studies. I'm currently writing two theses and hopefully finish them by December.

Next, I want to enroll in PhD program and focus on politics, economy and markets in East and Southeast Asia.

In the meantime I'm looking for a job in the field. I'm thinking of an analyst of the area (just Asia or better Eurasia so it would cover both my degrees), but mixing it with academic path, so while pursuing PhD degree.

One of my hobbies are foreign languages! Over time of my education I've managed to learn English, French, Russian and I'm still learning Japanese (currently at B1+ level). I used to learn Mandarin Chinese, but I intend to get back to it at some point. Also, I'm interested in picking Korean.

I like learning often just for sake of it since my mind needs to be constantly on the go (it gave me sleepless nights several times). It could be picking some textbook (I learnt bases of macroeconomics by myself), doing some online quizes on all seas, gulfs and straits or reading a popular history/science books (because of the Oppenheimer movie, I bought "The Making of the Atomic Bomb" by Richard Rhodes and yes, that's my current read!). I just enjoy it.

I have a never-ending books list on my Goodreads account (2600+ and counting). I like nonfiction (history, biography, political science, business, economics, you name it) and catching up on classics. Also, a h u g e Nabokov fan.

I'm one of these people who need to write everything down, from day schedule, important dates and tasks to all kinds of lists, trackers and brain dump. My Filofax is with me everywhere I go.

In general, I tend to be super-organized and put together. That applies to my daily or at least weekly schedule, surroundings or appearance - otherwise I can't properly focus.

I can't live without good coffee and I'm very picky about it.

Blog

The plan is to make it more personal by posting original content: hopefully daily, realistically a few times per week - mostly covering my writing proccess and languages learning, but also other random things. I intend to reblog some posts too, but I wish to keep the balance between that and OC.

Tagging #szarolina and #karolinatalking

My inbox is always open! c:

#studyblr #studyspo #langblr #studyblr introduction #studyblr intro post #studying #study