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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 1 day

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"Time & the Trickster" a Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 15: Journey's End

With no other alternatives, you and Loki face destiny.

CHAPTER WARNING (18+): I cried like a bitch writing this, make of that fact what you will

Previous Chapter · Epilogue MASTERLIST

It took both The Doctor and Loki to calm you down enough that you could think rationally, even as you felt like you were dying inside.

It was all over. Despite everything you’d done, despite all of your efforts to try and make it right, you’d only accomplished what you swore you would never do: you led Loki back to where he started, facing down a great and terrible destiny. And no matter what the wise, skinny alien said, you still felt it deep within you: it was your fault. You should have let go yourself and forced Loki to take Sylvie.

What the hell were you even saying?

Almost two months ago, you thought you were letting a kooky, deluded street rat sleep in your bed. You were regretting paying his bail. If you could only go back…

“We have about ten minutes before we arrive at the…the TVA,” said The Doctor. “Once we land, you’ll only have a moment to do what you need to.”

Loki nodded, still holding you tightly. “May I have a moment alone?”

He nodded a moment, before something caught his eye: lying near the basin was Sylvie’s stone, having fallen out of your hand in the scuffle. He slowly picked it up, bringing it over and kneeling beside Loki to place it in his hand.

The crack in the stone began healing at Loki’s touch. It glowed a much brighter green.

“Y/N, look!” he said quietly, showing you how the stone was practically regenerating.

The Doctor got an idea, based on something he’d witnessed happen once before, some time ago. Taking your hand, he placed it on top of Loki’s and the stone.

Something flashed before your eyes, but you didn’t recognize it. You withdrew your hand as quickly as The Doctor had placed it. “What..was that, Doctor?”

“I saw it too,” added Loki. “What just happened?”

“With everything in time and creation so unstable, the stone is able to show you echoes of places you may have been in other realities…ones where you are both together.” The Doctor remembered once how he’d held onto a fob watch in another’s hand and experienced the same thing.

“It means you have about five minutes to live your lives together,” said The Doctor. “I’ll give you privacy.”

He left you alone with Loki in the chamber, and your god took a moment to gently wipe a tear from your face. You leaned into his palm, letting his warm hand comfort you. He was holding the stone in his other hand. “What do you say, Y/N? Shall we take one last journey together?”

You nodded, whispering a delicate “yes” as you slipped your hand over Loki’s and the glowing time stone.

You and Loki materialized on a cliffside, overlooking a massive golden city of rainbows, gems, and gilded splendor. As if you were watching a film, you found your variants sitting by a small fruit tree, pink blossoms floating in the wind and adding perfume to the air. You were sitting on a silk blanket, a wicker basket of fruit and nuts at Loki’s feet.

“I grew up in that wing, the northernmost spires of the palace were my playrooms…” Loki was explaining to you where he grew up, showing you Asgard in its full glory. He took a moment from his story to pluck a grape from the basket and slowly place it between your lips.

Your spectator self sighed romantically.

“Y/N?” the projection of Loki took your hand and kissed it delicately before repeating the pleasure with each individual finger. You could almost feel it for yourself.

“I know what this is,” Loki said softly. “I’ve only ever been here once.”

“What is it?” you asked.

“The place my mother and fa—Odin—became engaged. He showed it to my brother and I once, and I determined the next time I visited the spot would be to propose to my mate beneath that tree.”

As if on cue, Vision Loki whispered into Vision You’s ear. She gave an excited yelp and leapt on top of Loki, throwing him against the ground and littering his face with affectionate pecks. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly you couldn’t roll off if you wanted to. You

You almost hated to hear it. This was no longer your future. Perhaps it never was. This future belonged to the variants acting out the tableau. Their glee was not yours.

“That means we would have…” Loki trailed off. You squeezed his hand, the stone in between pulsing slowly, erasing the world around you and bringing up another.

A woman in sky blue twirled dreamily in exquisite gossamer. It was only through a few moments of careful study that you and Loki were able to determine it was you.

You were in a bedroom. Loki sat watching your dance from the edge of the bed, his formal armor cast aside, leaving him in a white undershirt and leggings. He was laughing, his gaze lingering on your body with desire.

“My bride, is the alcohol still in your head? The feast and dance have ended!”

You stopped twirling to pout playfully. “But I feel so beautiful!”

Loki got up and laid a hand on your cheek. “And so you are, my Princess.”

A hot tear slowly rolled down the side of your cheek as you realized what you were looking at: a lost wedding night. You didn’t know whether you wanted to stay and see more or leave before anything made you cry harder. Loki saw your sadness, and squeezed your hand just as you could see the bridegroom sweep the bride off her feet, the laugher reaching a crescendo as the room fell away…

A Realm-wide celebration was being thrown. The royals stood on a balcony overseeing a large, cheering crowd as banners and confetti were thrown everywhere.

Thor, Loki’s brother, stood strong and victorious, raising Mjolnir in the air, a petite brunette at his side you recognized as Jane Foster. He was giving a speech as you tried to find you and Loki. Only you were present, hands folded politely as you listened.

“My people! The Dark Elves and Malekith are fully defeated, with the help of my brother, Prince Lo—” he stopped short, looking around him before looking directly at you for answers as to his whereabouts.

You smiled and looked past Thor. Loki, in full regalia, led two young boys dressed in miniature versions of their father’s armor onto the stage. Thor glowed with a big grin on his face. “You’re late for letting my nephews see my triumph, brother! Did naptime run a little long this afternoon?”

“Perhaps my dear brother the King shouldn’t mock fatherhood until he’s won the title for himself!” Loki quipped back, releasing the toddler princes’ hands. Both made a beeline for your wide, waiting arms.

Thor chortled. “I am King of Asgard! I am the father of a Realm!”

Loki rolled his eyes and went to join you at your side. Each of you picked up a giggling, star-eyed twin and looked affectionate at one another. The warm contentment was almost enough to envelope you like a thick fleece blanket.

“We…we had kids, Loki,” you whispered, hardly able to believe it for yourself. “Those are…ours!”

And they were perfect. One with his father’s raven-black hair, the other had your unmistakable smile and laugh. How old were they? Three?

He wasn’t saying anything, but you got the feeling from the look on his face that he longed for what he saw, and yet understood the tragedy of it. When he broke the silence, it was to say, “Two lives that we will never see.”

“That will never exist,” you added, your face getting hotter.

Loki shook his head. “They exist,” he assured you, “This isn’t a hallucination. The time stone doesn’t show visions, it shows time and timelines, and what we are seeing is a timeline somewhere in the cosmos that is very real, I promise.”

You weren’t sure if you were more jealous or heartbroken. True happiness was so, so far away! “Still, I…I...I can’t see this anymore!”

The disembodied voice of The Doctor interrupted you. “Which is well enough because you’re out of time.”

The spell of the stone fell away, and you and Loki were back on the floor of the vortex chamber, holding onto one another.

The Doctor was once again in the doorway. He looked solemn. “The TARDIS has locked down the TVA’s coordinates. Means we have about five minutes. Take the stairs on your right all the way up to the console when you’re ready.”

After he left you alone again, you could help but swear at Loki one more time. “Goddamn you, what were you thinking?”

He spoke with conviction. “That I would rather sit on that lump of rock at the end of the universe for ten eternities than choose another over you.”

You were beginning to feel frustration mixing in with your sorrow. “I told you I didn’t want your fate to be on my head!”

Loki tucked a finger under your chin, drawing your gaze upward. He was smiling like a condemned man would, trying to save face on his way up the scaffold. “I made the choice. I would make it again every time, Y/N.”

“Loki…” you whispered, unable to finish your thought as he drew your lips into one last kiss, the bright light leaking from the sealed vortex basin silhouetting your faces and painting massive shadows of you against the wall, joined as a single shape, attached at the mouth.

The intensity, the pace, the eternal-yet-fleeting perfection of a final kiss was never lost on you. Whenever you were alone in the apartment, whether Joey was at work or otherwise unable to hang out, you watched romances. The ones that made you weep at the end were your favorite. They all involved a goodbye as bittersweet at this. And they all involved the most beautiful, earth-shifting final kisses. All five of your favorite kisses from fiction were tragic goodbye kisses, each one filled with more heartache and passion than the last.

This one left them all behind. You tasted paradise on his lips.

The unmistakable sounds of the TARDIS breathing as it made its final appearance at its destination began to echo about the room, an alarm clock signaling that the miserable time was upon you.

One your mouths parted for the final time, Loki pulled you against his chest whispering softly. “Don’t cry for me, please, my star. I have chosen this. I wanted to give you your life. Live it, live well. Just…never forget that you need real people. Not just films and television screens full of false heroes.”

“It’s how I met you,” you quivered from under his arms. “It’s how I got to know you.”

“No,” Loki answered, rocking you back and forth. “Those actors and writers will never know my greatest adventure of all. There will never be an episode of that Tom’s television show when a mortal from the most forsaken reality found the power within herself to lead the god Loki across land and sea and returned him to the stars to save us all.”

Loki helped you to your feet, but as you began to climb the stairs to the console, he stopped you one more time, taking your hand and holding it as if about to propose.

“Y/N, you’ve been the hero of our story this whole time. I want you to bask in the world you’ve saved and be fulfilled. Please promise me you won’t dwell on what we could have salvaged, and instead lull yourself to sleep with the dreams of what you have yet to do.”

“I’ll try,” you said weakly, before correcting yourself. “I will.”

“I am so proud of you, my star.”

After kissing your hand, he looked deeply into your eyes. “And if you do, I promise you in turn, that any time you need me, if you look to the night sky and see a green star streaking above…I am thinking of you, and in my mind we are already back in that hot spring, counting each twinkling light above until dawn breaks over us again.”

You threw yourself against Loki’s chest so hard he nearly fell back down the stairs. He kept his arm around you, holding you close as you ascended together, finally meeting The Doctor at the TARDIS console.

He was leaning casually against the railing, looking gently sad as you finally relinquished Loki to where he’d needed to be all along.

“Are you ready?” he asked. You both nodded.

Loki graciously stepped forward and shook his hand, and even The Doctor couldn’t help but smile again. “I still can’t believe I met the God of Mischief today! You’re brilliant!”

“So are you, new friend,” said Loki. “And…uh…” he looked around the ship. “Safe travels!”

“Godspeed to you, my friend,” said The Doctor. “We’ve landed.”

As the TARDIS doors opened for Loki, you felt a firm hand on your shoulder keep you anchored to your position at the top of the front set of stairs. The Doctor was lightly restraining you. “I don’t think you should go.”

“But, what if he needs me?” you said quietly, Loki turning at the open threshold to give you one more, reassuring smile. “This is so much…what if he needs me?” you repeated.

“He does. That is why this is a sacrifice,” The Doctor answered, looking you sternly in the eye. “But he wouldn’t want you to see it happening to him.”

“Y/N?” Loki called up to you one last time.

You couldn’t speak. Your mouth opened and air fell out. You felt The Doctor take your hand in his, giving it a supportive squeeze.

“I love you,” he said. “And I would make the same choice every time.”

You finally smiled back, even if just for his benefit. “No regrets?”

Loki shook his head. “Never.”

The Doctor’s grip on your hand tightened as Loki turned his back to you, slowly stepping out and into his world. You could barely make out a large, gray-and-brown room with tech and a few figures waiting beyond the doors for him. A blonde man in a brown suit was looking both stunned and relieved. Mobius, you thought.

You had the idea from the stories of Mobius that Loki had relayed to you that perhaps their bond was more than he let on, but you weren’t jealous of it. If anything, you felt a kinship with Mobius. You were both about to lose the man you loved.

In a moment that felt both instant and endless, Loki left the TARDIS to meet his fate. The doors slowly closed behind him just as he turned back to get one last glimpse of you.

“Well,” The Doctor said, adding a little perk to his voice to try and lighten the mood, “We both need to get off this timeline before Loki does his work, otherwise we’ll be trapped here.”

He ran back to the console and began speaking a mile-a-minute again. “We should have several minutes to get everyone back to where they need to be before the lines are fully repaired and sealed, so…”

You couldn’t hear a word he was saying. You felt every emotion drain from your body as you became a shell, barely able to hold it together.

The Doctor looked at you with some pity. Not long ago he was alone in the TARDIS, fresh off of a loss of his own. Unlike him, you wouldn’t have someone new literally beamed into the room beside you to fill the hole in your heart.

He chose to speak softly. “Y/N?”

“…yeah?” you said meekly.

“Let’s…let’s go get your brother. We’ll meet him at the park five minutes after we left.”

As soon as the TARDIS hit solid ground, The Doctor took your hand and coaxed you outside. “We only have a few moments before our window of opportunity to hop around realities, so let’s collect your brother and return you home.”

You were still entirely numb from your painful farewell. You only looked straight ahead of you with glazed-over eyes as The Doctor brought you into the open air. “Look!” said The Doctor with a sweet, encouraging smile. He pointed upward. “He’s already doing it. Brave man, brilliant man, that Loki!”

The deep green of the sky was giving way to light blue that indicated mid-afternoon. The people who were panicking seconds ago were beginning to rejoice. The Doctor had been true to his word: he’d returned you to only minutes after you and Loki found him in the park. Granted, it was only in order to retrieve your brother, who had sadly missed everything in his never ending quest for parking space for your stolen car.

Joey’s jaw fell open as he came up around a bend, finally spotting you.

“Well, fuck a duck! Sis, what the hell--?”

“Ssh!” The Doctor silenced him. Joey couldn’t believe who he was looking at, and thus clammed up. You were ignoring all of this, watching the sky paint itself blue again with a cold tear in your eye.

“He’s got us all in his hands at this very moment,” said The Doctor slowly. “He’s thinking of you and saving your life right now!”

The air around you grew cool, calm, and sweet, and you knew it was Loki blowing you one final kiss from his new perch inside a new Yggdrasil, where he had been meant to go all along. You sucked in your breath. Even the wind had the lightest reminiscent scent of Loki’s hair.

“Thank you, my love,” you said quietly.

The sky gave one last flash of green before dissipating back to its natural hue. The Doctor leaned in and spoke only to you. “He heard you.”

“Do you really think he hears me, Doctor?” you whispered.

But he didn’t answer you this time, with only seconds left to deliver you home. “Well, now that we’re all back together, shall we get you two back to America?” asked the Time Lord.

Joey was still confused. “Where’s Loki? What did I miss? It’s only been, like, half an hour!”

You found yourself standing in front of Gino’s Pizzeria once more. It was the last place in all of time and space that you wanted to be. The Doctor had delivered you to exactly where he promised. As the three of you disembarked, any evidence of the greened-over sky or collapsing realities was gone.

Joey shrugged and stuck out a hand to shake The Doctor’s. “What can I say, man? I got to ride in your TARDIS and meet you and…just…thanks for everything!” He may as well have been meeting God.

The Doctor grinned. “Oh, my pleasure, Joey! Always good to meet someone who appreciates my work!”

“If you ever find your way back to our little pocket of space, look me up! I want to see those swaying mountains one day.”

“Oh, you know it!”

Joey took out his key and opened the side door, dwelling in the frame when he saw you needed one more moment.

The Doctor looked at you, while you couldn’t keep your eyes off the sky. It was sunset. The TARDIS must’ve skipped around a few hours in time while you flew back.

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked. When you didn’t reply, he put a hand on your shoulder. “Remember, our duty is to live.”

Swallowing, you turned into The Doctor’s waiting arms, holding him close. “Thank you for everything,” you said. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” said The Doctor. The TARDIS breathed as the last remnants of Loki's magic began to fade. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my ride’s about to leave the station!”

He turned away, but had one final thought, compelling him to spin on his heels one last time. “Oh…and Y/N?”

“Yes?” you perked up.

“He can hear you.” He winked, and you waved with a sad smile.

You and Joey stood in the alley and watched as the TARDIS flew off, back to the reality where he was needed most. You cried quietly as you stood for a moment after everything felt silent, and the last traces of the engine’s noise were undetectable.

It was all over. Everyone was where they were always meant to be.

“Hey Sis,” Joey asked, still hanging out in the doorway. “I still have some weed in my drawer. Let’s get baked, order takeout, and watch Thor.”

You smiled as you looked down. You were beginning to fiddle with the tarot pendant, the last reminder of your summer of wonderful insanity. Loki had called you his star. No matter how many realities separated you, nothing would ever change that.

“No,” you said. “I’m feeling the bowl and the food, but let’s watch Captain America instead.”

Epilogue to follow next week!

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirlofmanysstuff @krabog @soulpiercing @archivelaurarps @banjo-bastard

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julesthequirky · 1 month

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The Choice: Chapter Ten

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, angst, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, bit of spice, dirty talk.

W/C: 1,610

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, but your butt had gone numb. You surveyed the ruins. Dean’s clothes were over the room after being all flung over the place. Slowly, you stood up, wiped your face, and walked to the chest of drawers.

Ben had left a drawer open. You stared down at the emptiness. It matched how you felt. It didn’t feel real. Ben had swarmed in like a tornado, tearing down your defences and shredding what you cared for dearly. He was a destructive force.

Why he did, you didn’t know. You couldn’t begin to fathom understanding Ben’s mind. He did what he wanted and he didn’t care who was in his way. Unfortunately, you had been his sole target.

You wanted to get angry. Wanted to scream and yell, unleash it all at him, but he didn’t deserve your energy. It would be a waste. He wouldn’t care.

You pushed the drawer back in. Now, there were three big empty drawers instead of two. You turned and placed the other drawers back in one by one.

You picked Dean’s clothes up and tried as best as possible to fold them with military precision as he had. Unfortunately, your skills didn’t match his. You hoped that he wouldn’t be mad and would understand.

The room was back to normal. Like nothing had happened. But it didn’t feel that way.

You turned away from the chest of drawers and walked to the door. You tried turning the knob. It moved freely. Opening it, you were greeted with an empty upstairs landing. You could hear the TV downstairs. It was a sports game. Probably football.

You stepped out and closed the door behind you. Dean was free to sleep in his room, and you…well, you would just have to sleep on the couch.

Taking a deep breath, you descended the stairs. In your peripheral, two heads turned. Dean and Beau. You couldn’t help but wonder where Ben was. That annoyed you, causing you to scowl momentarily.

You stepped into your living room and took an empty seat. Dean and Beau were silent, pretending to watch the game.

“Ben’s in the kitchen.” Dean said.

You shrugged. “Don’t really want to see him, anyway.”

Someone sighed, and Beau’s soft voice filtered through to your ears over the game. His words felt like a kick to the gut.

“Y/N, as disreputable as his actions were, I believe that he was looking out for you in his own way.”

How could he stick up for the Supe?

“He hurt me.”

“An’ there’s no denyin’ that,” Beau sat, fingers steepled, elbows on his knees, a look of concern over his face. “but he did what he thought was right.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I didn’t see you rushing to help.”

A beat of silence passed. Dean shifted, uncomfortable, and Beau held his head down.

“We wanted to,” Dean replied. “but you know as well as I do that Ben would have bit our heads off if we tried.”

You shot him a look.

“You both just let him destroy precious sentimental items. Are you saying you’d have held me back and let him do it, too?”

More silence.

“We never thought you’d react the way you did. We were wrong about that.”

Your gut churned, and your jaw tensed. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I can’t wait ‘til that bloody box is figured out. I didn’t think you guys would be such vipers.”

“Oh, come on!” Beau exclaimed as you stood to leave.

“No, you don’t get it,” You turned to him. “I expected more. I thought you would come in my time of need, but you abandoned me. You hurt me. But what hurts more, is that you agree with Ben.”

You didn’t wait for them to reply as you left the room. You heard Dean mutter “son of a bitch” as you leaned against the hallway wall.

You hadn’t felt this alone since your ex had asked for a divorce. They would never understand. They didn’t have a biological clock ticking away, reminding you year after year that your time is running out.

From the kitchen, a chair creaked, and you were reminded of the Supe in there. He was the last person you wanted to see. You turned your head from the kitchen and again made your way upstairs. This time, you retreated to your bedroom.

You stood at the window. Your door clicked as it closed. You turned around to see Ben standing in his dirty undershirt and grey sweatpants.

He brought up emotions, good and bad. Mostly bad.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

He smirked. “And here I thought you loved me.”

You scowled, confused by his remark.

“Are you insane?”

“You must have liked me somewhat to stick my picture in your freaky frame.”

He left you speechless.

“I never once thought that the damn thing would bring you here!”

He just shrugged. “Still.”

Ben stepped forward. Even without his Supe suit, he was intimidating.

“You won’t be able to get them back. I shredded them.”

Emotional pain stabbed your heart, and you honestly didn’t know what to say. Your hands curled into fists, and he smirked, making an amused sound. He found this funny.

“Do you want to hit me, Y/N?”

You shook your head, releasing the tension in your fists, uncurling them.

“Liar.”

What was he doing? Why was he so calm? It was honestly unnerving. And yeah, you did want to hit him, but what would that accomplish. Nothing. It might feel good for a few moments, but that would fade, and you knew you’d feel shit for doing it.

What was his problem? Did he purposefully like to provoke you or something?

“What would it achieve? Nothing. A few seconds of gratification. For bruised knuckles and a sore heart.”

“Do you say the same when you’ve come? Achieves nothing but wet fingers and a fast pulse.”

You stood there, shocked and floundering.

“Th-that’s different.”

“Is it? It achieves the same sense of gratification.”

“I’m not a fighter.”

Ben snorted.

“I know. You don’t fight for anything, do you?”

You flinched. Why did he like hurting you? Had it become his new hobby?

“Why are you being so horrible?”

“I want you to hit me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll feel better about everything I did.”

You shook your head. You wouldn’t. You knew that.

He stepped closer.

“Hit me, go on.”

Again, you shook your head.

“Hit me!”

His shout was sudden, causing you to jolt. Your pulse quickened as he glared, waiting expectantly.

“No.”

You were vehement on this. You wouldn’t hit him. It would accomplish nothing.

“Fucking hit me!”

Ben invaded your space, backing you up against the wall. His body buffeted against yours, face getting into yours.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins, activating your flight or fight response—except you froze. You did nothing. You stared at him, shaking your head.

“For fucks sake.” He growled.

His hand shot out and gripped the back of your head. His face swooped down, and your brain short-circuited when his lips pressed to yours. You were too stunned to do anything.

Fire swamped down your gut when Ben parted your lips. His tongue forced entry into your mouth, and one stroke against yours had electricity bolting down your spine.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Ben had tormented you. Wreaked havoc, and now you were necking like a couple of teenagers, all hot and frenzied.

Your hands gripped his undershirt, body pressed against him, fighting to close what little space was between you.

He dominated your mouth, drinking you in, and you couldn’t deny it was intoxicating. You needed more. He had your pulse spiking, heart thudding like a kickdrum, tongues and teeth clashing as you fought his domination.

His hand cupped your ass, sending tingles to spread across and settle deep in your core. He lifted you, pushing you to meet his tented sweatpants. Heat and moisture pooled between your legs, gut tightening, and your pussy clenched at emptiness. Fuck, he was rock hard. And from the impression in his sweats, he was big.

You moaned into his mouth, grinding against him.

Oh shit.

That felt good.

Ben growled, removed his hand from the back of your head and wrapped it around your neck. He swung you around and dropped you on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

You gasped for breath, propping yourself on your elbows, and looked at him, chest heaving.

“You were supposed to fucking push me away and slap me, not moan and rub your hot little pussy over me.”

Fuck.

He looked wild. Had you done that to him?

“I’m sorry.” Was all you had to say.

“You’re sorry? I almost blew my fucking pants, and you’re sorry? No, girly, you don’t get to be sorry.”

Ben’s tented sweatpants distracted you. It was all you could look at.

He breathed hard, stepping closer like a predator to its prey. You gulped. The bed dipped as he knelt, moving over you, darkened eyes never once leaving you.

“Turn around.”

Huh?

He didn’t wait for you. His hands flipped you, so you were on your stomach. He caged you, one hand gripping your waist, keeping you in place, the other held your jaw, fingers stroking across your bottom lip.

His breath was raw. Guttural. And it tickled across the shell of your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sweetcheeks, and I ain’t gunna stop. Not until your pussy pops.”

It wasn’t a warning. It was a promise.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts

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wardenparker · 6 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 5

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: 10.4k 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.* Teasing, fluff, Dolly has low self esteem but it's not her fault, Bat Max comes with his own warning. Summary: In the course of one day, conversations turn from right interesting to downright life-changing, as Max starts to learn the truth of your connection from you but also from his sire. Notes: Big revelations are coming, folx! 🎵 Let's have a beautiful picture of the wonderful ballroom this week.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

You really should be paying more attention as Candance and Tracy talk through coven business. The room that you have come to know as the Green Salon in your inherited house is full to the brim with coven members all talking about the food drive they want to help out at for Thanksgiving next month. There are volunteer signups to follow through with and your own can drive to be organized, and you have to admit that this is the most community-focused coven that you've ever been a part of. But still you can't focus. The dreams have been so vivid lately, and they're such a mix of topics – your little bat friend pops up so often, and you haven't dreamt about Yayo in years. And now...now thoughts of Max are starting to slip in between the cracks and you aren't quite sure what it all means.

Mrs. Taylor smiles as she listens to the chattering of the coven. It's been too long since there has been life within these walls. He had been right in assuming that you would bring that life back to the mansion. Knocking on the door, she opens it to find several heads turned her way and she clears her throat. "Ladies, lunch is served."

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor." Her appearance snaps you out of your daze for a moment, and you lend her a grateful smile. Breakfast this morning was simple because it was just for you, but Renee said that Mrs. Taylor had already been toiling away on lunch from early in the morning. She seems to revel in having people in the house again and you are the last person to want to deny someone the thing that makes them happy.

"Let's go in and we can start planning the masquerade while we eat," Allison suggests, pushing up from the couch that the two of you had been sitting on.

The housekeeper smiles before she disappears again. Aware that he is upstairs and once the meal is presented for the humans, she is going to take him one of the special blood bags that he requests when he is in residence.

The coven has preferred things ‘family style’ in recent years, even when Ms. Brown was a more traditional and formal woman most of the time. So Mrs. Taylor has set the table with bowls of fresh salad, baskets of warm homemade crusty bread, and tureens of steaming hot beef bourguignon. A few of the ladies, Allison included, all groan happily to have Mrs. Taylor’s cooking back. She pulls out a notebook to place at her seat but pauses, allowing herself what she thinks is a private smile when Eddie enters the dining room.

“Is it still alright for me to join you?” He asks, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and a nervous expression on his face as he looks around. The invitation is a week old and might not still hold, so he wants to check.

"Of course!" Allison leaps up from her chair, even though it technically should be you answering Eddie since it is your house. "I mean, I don't think anyone would mind, right?" She looks around the table and is silently grateful for when the girls easily shift down to leave a spot right next to her own chair for the vampire to sit.

“Of course.” When you echo your agreement that seems to be the end of any debate at all. “We were going to start planning the masquerade while we eat.”

"Oh, I have to admit, I am hoping that I am invited." He tells the coven hopefully, giving them a charming grin. "I have always wanted to go to a masquerade."

“Of course you will be.” Candace pipes up from across the table, where the bread basket is already being passed around. “You live here. It would be awfully rude not to invite you when you live here.” Of course, it’s for Allison’s benefit too. And for you, since you seem a little more relaxed around Eddie than most other people.

"That's good." He makes sure to pass the bread to Allison when it comes his way, not taking one for himself. "Is this - it's going to be a thing that requires dates?" He slides his hands under the table to rub them on his thighs. His hands aren't sweaty anymore, he doesn't sweat, but he is nervous.

"It could be." Allison worries her bottom lip as she takes a slice of warm bread and passes you the basket. "What do you think, Dolly?"

"It...it doesn't seem nice to make it mandatory," you admit, taking a slice of bread and passing the basket along again. You can't imagine anyone in the world would be your date to such a thing and you would hate to be excluded from the night for something like that. Especially, like Candance said, with it being held in your own house. "But dancing is always fun with a partner."

Eddie nods, sensing that you don't like the idea. "Then we should make sure that it's not required to have dates, but maybe the guest list is even to make sure everyone is paired up when it comes to dancing."

“Like dance cards?” The salad is making its way around now and once more Eddie passes it on while he listens to you. “As in…something old fashioned? Dance cards for everyone who wants one?”

“I don’t know what it would be like, but I love the sound of that.” He glances towards Allison and wonders if he can make sure that he is on her dance card more than once.

“Mrs. Taylor brought out some old photographs from past masquerades in the house.” You haven’t seen them yet, but you’ve been told that all the gowns were one of a kind and the men looked resplendent in their costumes. That’s what Mrs. Taylor said, with absolute rhapsody on her face. “A hundred and fifty years ago they would start the ball at ten or so at night, serve supper around midnight, and end the thing with breakfast at sunrise for whoever was left.”

“That sounds perfect.” Of course, Eddie knows why it was held at night, but he’s not going to say anything about that. “Are you thinking of keeping to that tradition?”

“How does it sound to everyone else?” You ask, looking around the table.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Of course, Allison would practically think anything Eddie suggests would be wonderful, but this does sound amazing. “It’s an ode to the past.”

“A return to the Gilded Age sounds fun.” Candace agrees. “We can do themed menus if Mrs. Taylor is okay with it? And encourage historical costumes?”

“I think that Mrs. Taylor would love that.” Eddie agrees. “She loves things like that. It would make her year. And I’ll help out wherever I can.”

“Thirteen of us, plus guests. That’s a fairly big party isn’t it?” You differ to Mrs. Taylor, who has popped into the dining room again to bring more bread like she somehow magically knew the first round would go instantly.

“Invite as many as you like, ladies,” she insists. Her smile is excited and eyes are twinkling like she has a secret she is just bursting to share. “This house can handle hundreds.”

“You could always invite the town as well.” Eddie suggests. “Make it the event of the season.”

“The whole town? Can we do that?” Tracy looks intrigued at the idea and glances around the table. “It could be a hell of a fundraiser, and I know we’re always looking for ways to do more good in the community.”

“It could be a ticketed event.” Eddie muses. “All proceeds going to the coven's charitable works?”

"It actually sounds like a whole lot of fun." The last time you organized any kind of dance or fundraiser was with your dance studios in high school and then in college, but back then it had been a blast to get decorations, refreshments, flyers, and all the necessary things sorted out for big events. It was a sense of accomplishment that nothing else quite seemed to give you. Bringing people together and seeing everyone happy? Your mother called it your hostess's heart, and had always said you would use it to help people one day. This seems like a beautiful way to make her words come true. "Tracy, you work at town hall, don't you? If we need any permits for serving alcohol or having a large fundraiser, would you be able to take care of them?"

“Of course!” Tracy beams at the thought of being able to help in any significant way. “I’ll find out Monday and let you know.”

“What about music?” Allison asks next. Everyone is starting to eat, and people are getting excited. And with Eddie sitting beside her, Allison has to admit that she’s more than a little excited, too.

“You know…..” Eddie tilts his head. “The orchestra group in college has been talking about needing to have more live events.” He sounds out. “To practice. What if I see if they would like to perform?”

“That would be perfect!” Candace lights up at the table and few of the other girls nod alongside her. “Gilded Age theme, right? Maybe we can make it like classical versions of pop songs? Like they did for Bridgerton?”

“I’ll ask them.” Eddie chuckles and nods his head. “It’ll be a challenge that I think they would enjoy.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Taylor to look out for any old boxes of party decorations from long enough ago to be an inspiration for us. If we’re lucky there will be something in the attic alongside the clothing we borrowed this week. I sort of get the feeling that most things don’t get thrown out in this house.” As always, Mrs. Taylor’s cooking is off the walls amazing and all around the table people are humming happily and enjoying their lunch as the planning picks up.

“The house is basically a museum.” Eddie snorts, sipping his double walled cup. “What could possibly give you the idea they don’t like throwing things away?” He winks at you to remind you that he’s teasing playfully.

"It's a beautiful museum." Every day you spend here, you fall more and more in love with the house. There's always new details to discover. New intricacies in the carvings, new details in the paintings, new trinkets in the cases all around the hallways. "I'm glad everything got kept. It gives it so much more character than all the brand new houses that are just painted white and made of one big room divided by furniture you're not supposed to touch."

Eddie tilts his head, watching you smile, and he thinks about how far you have come since the first time he had talked to you. Even your posture is more assertive, as if you have come into your own skin. He would believe you had been turned if it weren’t for the steady thump of your heartbeat, mixed with those of your coven.

"So when are we doing this?" Allison has her notebook, and in the front is a calendar that is just positively chock full of little notes to herself but she flips open to it anyway. "Can we actually get all of this organized by the end of the month?"

“I’ve already aired the ballroom out.” Mrs. Taylor announces, having just come back from the tower. “As far as the menu goes, you tell me what you would like and it will be done.”

“Mrs. Taylor thinks we can manage it.” And for some reason that bolsters you more than almost anything else. It just makes you wish that you had someone to dance with. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Invitations, tickets will need to be printed.” She muses. “Perhaps an ad in the paper?”

"We can hand out flyers at the farmer's market," Allison nods, glad to see the infectious excitement go around the table. "It's going to be fantastic. I can feel it."

“Since your theme is the Gilded Age, the ink should be gold leaf.” Mrs. Taylor suggests. “There is a printshop in town that Ms. Brown would use.”

"You should take Max with you and check it out." Candace's suggestion takes you off guard and your eyes must get a little wider because she immediately adds, "You know...because he's business guy. Maybe he can make a deal on pricing or something?"

"Oh! I–uh–that's actually not a bad point." You wouldn't have thought to get him involved in any of this at all, but of course Candance is right. You have no head for business and that's literally all Max does. "I'll ask...see if he has any time to spare."

“Did I hear my name?” As if on an invisible cue, Max appears in the doorway of the dining room. “Ladies, ladies, speak my name and I shall appear.” He flashes everyone a charming grin but he smirks when his eyes fall on you. “Queenie, you are looking radiant, have you been plotting?” He asks playfully before he hides the one side of his mouth facing Mrs. Taylor. “I think you can take her.” He faux whispers loudly and winks at you.

"We were working out the plans for the Samhain Masquerade," you admit, probably the only one in the room who doesn't see the way you light up at Max's little joke. And only because you're too busy hiding a small laugh.

"Join us." Candance could not possibly be grinning any more widely and immediately shuffles her chair to one side to make room next to you for Max to pull up a chair.

Max looks over the food that is on display and grimaces slightly. “I’ll sit, but I couldn’t possibly eat.”

"Have an early lunch at the office?" Eddie guesses, a slight smirk going along with his raised eyebrow. He has a much stronger stomach for human food than Max does and doesn't mind still indulging in a bloodless meal from time to time.

“Lunch with the bosses.” He agrees, patting his stomach over the vest. “So what are you thinking? Aerobatic performers? Jugglers? Fire breathing?” He waggles his brows as he smirks at the table.

"We were talking about a theme." Having him sit next to you makes you suddenly hyper aware of yourself and you take a sip of your drink. "Making it an old fashioned Gilded Age thing with classical versions of modern music, food served overnight, and elaborate masquerade costumes. Even selling tickets and donating the proceeds to charity."

“That sounds fun.” Max chuckles. “Everyone will shit themselves to get exclusive tickets.”

“And we’ll be taking a poll of every guy who buys a ticket to find one good enough for Dolly,” Tracy adds, wondering how Max would react to that idea after seeing the way he had marked you at the Mabon bonfire. They had all seen it, and all understood that you had no idea it was Max. Which only makes the whole thing more fun.

That makes the grin slide off Max's face. Just for a split second before he forces his lips to twist up out of the pout that had taken over before you could notice. He's not going to make you think that he is controlling, not with the way you react to everything. "That's a tall order." He settles for a slight grumble in his voice as he leans back in his seat.

“Newport’s a pretty decent sized town, I bet we can make it happen.” She caught the slight slip in his expression and is fucking delighted by it. None of them have ever seen Max actually care about another being and it has the few of them that talked about it convinced that he must actually be feeling things for you. “We’re going to make sure her dance card is completely full.”

"Good luck." Max snorts, crossing his arms and trying to look smug rather than worried that he might not spend any time with you. It's a feeling he doesn't like. "She's not going to enjoy the stomping of the men who think they can dance because they took lessons when they were twelve and haven't trod a dance floor since."

“Well,” Allison’s head tilts in curiosity and she affects a fully innocent expression as she shrugs her shoulders. She knows you don’t like to be the center of attention but this is developing in an interesting direction. “I suppose it would be different if our girl had a date for that night.”

It feels like Max is being led somewhere and he really doesn't like it. But the idea of you having some faceless date that might try to take advantage of you, or hurt your feelings has Max nearly snarling in anger. Body tensing beside you like he's a guard dog about to attack until he hears your heartbeat speed up beside him, anxiety flooding your scent. "That would be up to Dolly." He manages to keep his tone light, almost cheerful. "She might not want one."

“I don’t know anyone.” Your voice is quiet, not liking the fact that there seems to be an argument brewing over you in any way, shape, or form. The only two men you know here are Max and Eddie, and you would have to be blind not to see Eddie’s interest in Allison. “It—it really doesn’t matter anyway.” You insist. “It’s been a long time since I danced.”

"You should dance." Max frowns as he turns towards you, ignoring Allison the second it sounds like you are contemplating not dancing. This is your party, after all. "Do you want to dance?"

“Well…of course I do.” He knows better than anyone that dancing means everything to you. Having to give it up felt like it would kill you. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not…I mean…I wouldn’t want anyone to feel like they had to ask me. That’s…not okay.”

He wants to roll his eyes at the stupidity of that statement, but he knows you will get upset. No one has to ask you. "You should go with me." He decides easily. "We are by far the best dancers and it's not like it would be taxing to pick you up." He jokes. "I can tell you who will stomp on your pretty dance shoes and who would be a moderately good dancer, though, not nearly as good as I am."

The entire table seems to hold its breath — half of them expecting the invitation and half taken completely aback by it. It’s not like Max Phillips has ever shown any one of them specific attention before. No. He usually hits on an entire room at once and then zeroes in on the most vulnerable. But you don’t know that side of him. You’ve never seen it. Max might be full of himself but he’s reasonably nice to you these days. He teases more than anything else, and you’re starting to learn his sense of humor. “You don’t have to do that.” You tell him, assuming he’s only asking out of pity. Out of some sense that you’re actually as pathetic as you think you are, which is absurd to everyone but you. “If you…if you want to look for someone else..I can be your backup date.” To you it seems like the best offer in the world. The most sensible and the most likely to alleviate whatever sense of duty he might feel toward you as a housemate. “It’s still weeks away. You never know what can happen.”

Max snorts and shakes his head. "I'm thinking about the competition, babe." He scoffs. "No one could keep up and it's better that the best dancers are paired together, right?" He knows he's cocky, that he's brash and the fear that you don't want to go with him strikes a cord that makes him slightly more bold than usual. "I'd rather have the best, and you're the best."

Unconsciously, your head tilts, surprise tempered with a swipe of confusion. “You’ve never even seen me dance.”

“I have.” Max responds vaguely.

“When?” The incredulous question comes out of your mouth instantly, knowing that you’ve danced maybe twice in the last year and neither time was in this house.

Online. That’s the real answer, but he doesn’t want to weird you out. Your competitions had been filmed. Instead he just shrugs and grins

“Well…” Slightly unsettled, you just shake your head and shift in your seat again. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m sure there’s someone else you’d like to take more, and you should be able to.” It hurts more than you expect, the idea that he would choose someone else over you, but you tell yourself to stop being silly. You’re nothing special. You never have been. And Max is…well, you’re starting to see how truly special he really is.

“No.” Max frowns when he hears the smattering of whispers and giggles but he doesn’t focus on that. Instead he’s looking at you. “We’re going together. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“I want to.” It’s almost too hurried. Too enthusiastic. But once it’s out of your mouth there’s no going back.

“Then it’s settled.” Eddie says quickly. “Dolly and Max are the first couple for the masquerade.”

“Perfect.” Allison practically holds up her glass in salute. “If you wanted to, I bet we could make some pretty killer king and queen costumes out of whatever clothes Mrs. Taylor finds upstairs,” She suggests instead, having noted that Max seems to be the only one who calls you Queenie.

Max doesn't seem to get the reasoning behind that and hums thoughtfully. "If she likes it. I am easy to dress." He winks playfully. "Killer abs and all that."

“I—I really don’t need to be a queen.” You protest right away, feeling like that would be way too much look at me for one night. You’ve spent so long trying desperately to fly under the radar that you doubt you would even know how to stand out anymore. You’d end up looking like a little girl playing dress up and embarrass Max. And you definitely wouldn’t want to do that. “We’ll figure out costumes along the way.”

Max raises his brow and nods, sensing that you are not comfortable with the idea. Throwing his arm around the back of your chair, he leans in. "Just as long as we can dance, right sweetheart?" His tone is low, just meant for you.

“Right.” Just as instantly as you had become uncomfortable, that one thought soothes you, and in your gratitude you end up looking Max directly in the eyes for maybe the first time ever — there are entire worlds in his deep brown eyes and somehow this is the time you’re discovering it. At the table eating lunch with a dozen other people. “As long as we can dance,” you murmur in agreement.

******

He had spent the afternoon taking care of legitimate business. Things that he had to take care of instead of spending the rest of the day with the coven of witches like he had surprisingly wanted to do. He doesn't mind the witches, having nothing against them and finding them pretty entertaining, but he had really wanted to see you more relaxed, to see the smiles that have become more common now that you have settled in and finding your place.

The ballroom seems to call your name tonight, and you aren’t sure why. Or at least you would never admit to the reason. To say that you’ve been stuck on the thought of dancing with Max all day would feel utterly silly. To admit that you perked up at the mere mention of him while having dinner out with some of the girls from the coven makes you feel like a silly teenager. It isn’t worth it. He’s just being nice, and the last time that a guy was nice to you, you ended up in a decade-long abusive relationship with him. You’re just…you’re not the kind of person who can be in a relationship. Period. So you shouldn’t be daydreaming about it, either. Especially not mere weeks after being kicked out of Derek’s house. But you know damn well that you were emotionally done with that relationship well before the door ever closed behind you.

The thing about vampires is that they are blessed, or cursed with a keen sense of hearing. You would be mortified to know that every vampire in the house could hear you fart in your sleep. Most of them had trained themselves to block out the sounds of human prowling around again. Max couldn't, or maybe wouldn't, would be a better word. Drawn to the quiet strands of "The Blue Danube". Quickly and silently making his way to the ballroom, and to you.

You shouldn’t do it. You know you shouldn’t. Anybody could just walk in, and it’s not as though you are the type of person to show off. Or that you even could show off at this point. But you just can’t resist. The thought of dancing with someone — Max — has been in your head all day and you turn on some music on your phone to take some basic waltz steps around the ballroom all on your own.

He approaches quietly. His ears filling with the strands of the music, making his fingers twitch with the urge to join you when he sees you waltzing around the large, polished dance floor. You are grace itself, floating on air and seemingly carefree as your eyes close and the small smile on your face brightens into full joy.

A few turns around the floor with your eyes closed are all it takes to find your feet and your frame again, and in mere seconds it’s like you’re back in your first rehearsal room with your first real freedom after learning to dance. It’s a return to the easiest and most natural feeling in the world. And then, without even realizing anyone was nearby, someone steps into your frame and sweeps you up in the dance.

"Seamless." Max chuckles quietly as he enjoys the look of shock on your face. Starting to lead you through the steps as the music swells. "I knew that you would be flawless."

“Max…” Pure surprise has his name coming out in a breath of disbelief, but you don’t stop moving. He’s completely right. It was seamless. “I—I didn’t hear you come in.”

"I didn't want you to hear me." He chuckles quietly. "You were caught up in the music." His grin is wide and warm as he continues to lead you through the dance.

“It’s…been a long time.” For all your protests, you never miss a step or fail to follow a lead. Maybe your frame isn’t competition ready anymore, but Max’s hold isn’t demanding it.

"It doesn't feel like it." Max counters, moving you into a dip and smirking when you gasp before he pulls you upright again.

Ballroom dancers will tell you that when you find your perfect partner, it’s obvious. Steps feel surer and your hold feels truer. The rhythm of movement feels more natural. It’s something you had thought wistfully of someday long in the future, sort of the way you thought about your soulmate. Someday my prince will come, that sort of thing. You’re just shocked to be feeling that feeling in your gut when Max pulls you up from the dip. Like your heart has skipped a beat, but that only happens in movies and fairy tales. “I think it’s all down to a strong lead,” you manage, heaping the credit on him where you feel it’s due.

“Not from what I’ve seen.” Max tuts, backing you through the next few steps and leaning in before he pulls you back in the opposite directly. “You carried your partners before. It takes talent to lead and yet make it appear that they are leading.”

“Never managed to find my perfect partner,” you mumble, unable to shake the monumental feeling that yes you have but it’s only just now. “How have you seen me dance, Max?”

“YouTube.” He shoots you a grin, shameless now that he has danced with you. “Your competitions were beautiful and it’s amazing what you will find online now, if you know where to look.”

“I guess so.” It’s not something you ever would have thought to look into, but when you give it even a little thought it makes perfect sense. “Those were…the good days,” you admit. “The best days. Giving it up felt like it might kill me.”

“Why did you stop?” That has him extremely curious because he has seen how talented you are. Even now, every step you take is more poised and confident than the last. Dancing is so naturally in your blood that you are holding a conversation while doing it.

“Gotta grow up sometime, right?” It’s a bullshit excuse. You know it is. But what else can you say? The expression on his face says he doesn’t buy that excuse for a second and you sigh while he turns you both around the room. “My boyfriend wanted me to get a full time job,” you explain quietly. “Being home to take care of the house and make dinner every night meant there was no time for competitions or classes anymore. He— he wanted me at home.”

Max frowns, finding that to be a bunch of sexist bullshit. As much as he might have joked about having the little lady barefoot in the kitchen, normally that meant getting a snack before he fucked her silly and fed from her again. “Well, he’s an asshole.” He snorts, firming his grip on your waist. “You don’t make someone you love give up what they love.”

“It was…a bad decision all around.” As the song comes to an end, another one will begin right afterward, you just don’t know what it will be. The playlist you chose was just marked Classics. “It’s a long story. Not something you need to worry about.”

The urge to compel you is nearly overwhelming, but Max resists. Instead of commanding that you tell him, he just watches you. Letting his silence do the talking for him.

“I thought he was going to rescue me.” It comes tumbling out of your mouth when his eyes fix on yours, and you’re sure that it’s just your imagination that says he wants to know everything. “I had gotten stood up on a blind date and he—my ex— he came up to me at the bar and dried my tears and took me home…and I really thought that he was going to teach me how to grow up. But it’s obvious now how naive that is to believe.”

“Did he hurt you?” Max’s voice is soft, not wanting to scare you, even if he can’t help the darkness in his eyes. The anger that leaps to life at the thought of someone hurting someone as gentle as you are.

“I—” Yes. He did. He broke down who you were as a person and tried to reconstruct you into an automaton who would do only his bidding. And he almost succeeded. “It doesn’t matter now.” The tears that spring up in your eyes are unavoidable, and your feet stop moving with the heaviness that settles on your shoulders. “He got sick of me and kicked me out and then I came here. It’s done.”

A bad dance partner would have stepped on your feet, not able to avoid continuing despite the fact that you had stopped suddenly. Max doesn’t. He sweeps you into a hug that is encompassing. “He was a fool and you are safe here.” Max had wondered why he had wanted you here, now he wonders why he had not brought you here sooner.

It’s such an unexpected gesture, for his arms to lock tight around you, and you really almost break down sobbing right there in his arms in the middle of the ballroom. You find, though, that that isn’t the message that you want to convey to him — or at least it’s not how you want to convey the message. Your gratitude is boundless, but it boils down to just one thing. “I believe you.” Is what you murmur instead, burying your face in his chest as he holds you to him.

He stands off to the side. In a corner where it’s almost impossible to see him. Slippery as the shadows on the walls and twice as deceptive. Strong, white teeth flash in a smug smile. It was working.

The most overwhelming and surprising — well, maybe not most surprising, but it certainly surprises you at first — urge you have in your whole body is to kiss him. He’s never made a single serious motion in the way of wanting you, or being interested in you. He’s never done anything but be polite. But you’re so close to him now that you feel like closer is the only way to be and stepping apart even a little would be agony.

“Queenie…” Out of the corner of his eye, Max sees something. Head whipping up only to find a wall sconce. He had sworn he had just seen a flash of movement.

“I—I’m sorry.” He must have known what you were thinking somehow. Or you must have leaned in without realizing it. Stared at his lips accidentally. Something. But he doesn’t let you out of his arms when you start to pull away self-consciously.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Max looks back at you again. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“I thought…” you look to the doorway too, but there’s no one there. Not even a hint of Renee and her duster. “Thought…nevermind.”

“Thought what?” Max prompts softly, wanting to know what is going on in that pretty little head of yours. Dying of curiosity to know what you think of him.

“That you didn’t…” Your cheeks are burning hot on fire and your heartbeat is somewhere in the proximity of your eardrums rather than your chest, but you shake your head. “I thought you could tell what I was thinking. That’s why I apologized,” you admit finally, when his eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

“I could.” Max doesn’t know what you were thinking, but he’ll figure it out. “I just got distracted.”

“It doesn’t…” It doesn’t matter. It was a thought you’ve had far too many times since sitting and watching tv with him last week and he just doesn’t need to know that you’ve started dreaming about him. That’s…that’s far too much. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. If he really could tell what you were thinking then you can only assume how either disgusted or exasperated he is. But for some reason the knowledge that Max Phillips couldn’t possibly want you makes you crack apart like you’re leaving the dance studio all over again.

Max frowns slightly, not approving of the way that your eyes shutter, your shoulders seem to curl around in an effort to protect yourself. It's as bad as if you had flinched away from him, fearing that you would be hit. He slides his hand up your side and cups your cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Queenie." He wants to kiss you, a feeling that he normally would act on, but he doesn't want to scare you. "When the moment is perfect." He decides, murmuring it out loud.

It’s not a rejection but it’s also not a full acceptance, and for some reason the unexpected space between the two things leaves you feeling like you’re in some sort of emotional limbo where all you can do is nod against his hand and try not to look too wistful at the gesture itself. It’s just wishful thinking that has you feeling like you never want him to let you go. At least, that’s what you’re going to keep telling yourself.

There’s a pregnant pause, a feeling in the air that makes Max lean in. Feeling that the moment is now. That he needs to get this urge to kiss you out of his system. Watching you to see if you pull away or panic fills your eyes when the front door opens. Startling him because he had been so entranced by you, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching.

Jumping away from him like a frightened children’s film or cartoon character, your whole face and body are on fire for so many different reasons but you bury your face in both hands and stammer out another vague apology before looking to the stairwell with frozen fear. “Eddie!” His name is a squeak in your voice and nothing more.

Eddie is there in an instant, obviously worried that Max had done something from the look the other vampire shoots him. Making Max narrow his eyes and huff at the assumption. The song fades and the silence in the ballroom settles awkwardly. “Dolly?” Eddie reaches for you. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” He has awful timing, that’s all. But you’re not even sure that Max was going to kiss you. You could have been imagining it. “I—I think I’m going to grab a book from the library and turn in. Good night.” You announce, snatching up your phone and hightailing it to the library as fast as your legs will carry you.

Max huffs at Eddie. “Thanks asshole.” He grunts, rushing off towards the balcony doors that lead out to the gardens.

“What?” Eddie shrugs in complete confusion as you and Max both flee from the room.

******

Heading through the marble hall and into the library, you scoop the first edition copy of Rudyard Kipling’s Rewards and Fairies off the shelf where you left it that morning. It will make for good bedtime reading now that you’ve gone through both books you were reading previously. Quick as a mouse and just as quiet, you rush upstairs to your room with every intention of just locking yourself inside for the night. But there, sitting and chirping on your windowsill, is your little bat friend.

As soon as he had cleared the doors, Max had transformed. Not wanting you to run away from him, but he’s also found that you find comfort in his bat form. It’s interesting considering most are afraid of bats, but you pet him, snuggle him, and talk to him. He flaps his wings impatiently, telling you to open the window to let him in.

“Hey, Cutie.” It’s such a relief to see this little friendly face that what you once just called the bat as a descriptor has now become his name. Cutie is now featured in any number of bat things around your room, like little sketches tucked into the corners of your vanity mirror and the embroidered pillow that you brought home early on. You go to the window to let him in knowing that he will hop right into your hand, and leave one window cracked for him to leave by when he eventually wants to. It’s chilly, but you’re not going to trap the little guy inside the house. That would be cruel. “Were you waiting for me?” You croon, sniffing back tears of anxiety and instead focusing on petting his little head to soothe yourself.

Max chirps, acknowledging that he had been waiting for you, just not as long as you might think. He nuzzles into your hand for a moment before he shoots out of your hand, crawling up your arm and chest to curl into your neck.

“Awwe, I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Cutie.” The feeling of being hugged is as real and undeniable as being hugged by Max just a minute ago and you sniffle again before continuing to scratch the bat’s head. “Please don’t be upset with me…” Though how the little animal could show it, you don’t know. This bat is more expressive than any other creature you’ve ever known. “I…got caught up dancing. Haven’t done that in a long time.” A soft sigh escapes you and you peak down at the bat’s expression of curiosity. “Lemme put on my pajamas and I’ll read to you, okay? You seem to like that.”

Max wants to watch you undress, but even he isn’t that unethical. So he flutters off your shoulder to the chair where you sit every night he comes, reading to him. Landing on the arm rest and fluttering his wings as he folds them up, chattering at you.

It isn’t so much changing as just stripping down a few layers to your tank top, and you replace your jeans with flannel pj pants. You come out of your dressing room far more relaxed and pick up the Kipling from the side table before coming over to the chaise. “You want your nest, Cutie?” Sometimes he likes to curl up in your lap and sometimes he likes to be snuggled against you, but either way you plop down on the chaise and grab your ballet slipper throw blanket to tuck around you.

Max waits until the blanket is on your lap, hopping right into it and looking up at you. He knows you have a soft spot for this version of him, so he plays it up, cooing at you.

“Here we go.” Fixing the blanket so it’s slung over one of your shoulders gives him a cozy place to settle near your collarbone, and you could swear that the little bay must like the vibration of your voice or something because he loves to perch there. “I got us some Kipling tonight,” you tell him, feeling more relaxed by the second. “A little something different than the gothic novels I’ve been reading you.”

Max chirps again, surprised that you are in your pajamas. It’s the most amount of skin that he has ever seen on you. He decides that he will make a lap around you, get the full effect of your comfortable clothing.

“Is that an excited chirp or a chirp of protest?” Either way it makes you laugh. Just a quiet, half-huffed sound, and you open the book in your lap while Cutie takes off around your chair. He seems excitable tonight and maybe you need that. A little positive energy before bed.

You’re beautiful. He’s popping the equivalent of a bat boner from the innocent scene, unsure why you are so irresistible to him. You’re pretty and kind, but so are other women who don’t affect him as badly. Max takes another lap and damn near falls out of the sky when he sees it. Discolored skin, in an unusual grouping. A birthmark. Screeching wildly, Max dive bombs your arm to make sure he’s not seeing things. But it’s there. The matching mark that has been the only blemish on his skin since he had been brought back by his sire. You’re his fucking soulmate.

“You okay, Cutie?” He’s never lost his balance in the air like that and suddenly you’re worried there’s something wrong with the little bat’s wing. Twisting around and scooping him out of the air, you take a careful look at both appendages and don’t see anything wrong.

Those big eyes bug out even more and he squawks as if you could hear him. Soulmate. You. You’re his soulmate. There’s zero doubt in his mind that he knew that. And the fact that he kept it from Max infuriates him. But it also explains why Max was kept here. How long had he known? All of these things run through Max’s mind as he flaps his way out of your hold and immediately crawls his way up your arm to stare at your birthmark again.

"Alright, alright, if you want to hang out back there, you go right ahead." It's a weird choice, but you're the one talking to a fucking bat so who are you to judge? You just let the little guy curl up behind your shoulder and open your book to start reading. The ritual is something that you've started to find immensely soothing so you're going to appreciate every second of it tonight, while thoughts of Max still race through your head. Unshakeable and unwavering.

Just to make sure he’s not insane and it’s not some makeup covering some tattoo or whatever, his little bat tongue comes out to lick at your skin.

"What are you doing?" You twist to look at the bat over your shoulder quizzically. "Not like you can answer me, can you? It's just a birthmark, Cutie. Nothing to be confused about."

Max looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue swipe your skin again. Convinced it’s not makeup causing the discoloration.

“What is up with you, huh?” The book goes down to your lap again and you frown a little at the winged ‘pet’. He’s never licked you or anything before. Just nuzzles and chirps or squeaks while he cuddles into you. This is all new.

Max pulls his tongue back into his mouth and climbs up your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek and chirping again. Unable to vocalize the issue, but he doesn’t want you to shoo him off.

"How about I just cover up, then." He climbs back up on your shoulder and you pull the blanket around you, covering the little star-shaped set of marks on your skin that make up your birthmark. It must confuse his little bat mind or something. That's the only explanation you can come up with. "It's just some marks on my skin, that's all." You explain, rather uselessly. After all, what does the bat care? "My skin and no one else's. I used to have tattoos, too. But...well, the person that gave them to me is gone now. So I don't have them anymore."

Max flaps his wings, squawking indignantly. He’s right here. He wonders why he wasn’t allowed to have his tattoo put back. Some kind of punishment?

“You wanna be my soulmate?” Bats don’t have soulmates. Not that you’re aware of. Just humans, some species of monkeys, and some people think that dogs and cats do but that’s just wishful thinking. But then, what is this if not wishful thinking? Talking to a bat is as wishful as it gets. “Okay, Cutie. You can be my new soulmate. Since you’re a little bit spooky and like being read to, I think it’s perfect.”

If he could preen, Bat Max would. Your words soothes him instantly and he cuddles against your pulse, cooing and almost purring happily. You accept his bat form, and that’s half the battle in his mind.

"Yeah?" You giggle softly, glad for the now familiar feeling of the small winged creature cuddling against your chest. "Is that all you wanted? Just my never ending love and devotion?" This laugh is slightly more hollow, and you pet his little head with two fingers as you pick your book up again. "Somebody might as well have it. I don't think I trust myself to actually give it to a human anymore."

Max blows out a breath, actually needing to breath as a bat, funnily enough. He hates the idea that you are so hurt that you wouldn’t trust and love again. You’re too sweet to put yourself on a shelf.

"Just you and me, Cutie." You murmur softly. "That's all I need." Maybe. Just maybe. If you say it enough, it will be true one day. Unfortunately for your heart, though, it's already given itself away. And denying it won't do a single ounce of good.

Max listens to the sadness in your voice, still freaking out because you’re his soulmate and he can’t tell you. How would he explain himself? You aren’t to know that the residents of this house are vampires. On his orders. How would he explain that he has no marks? They disappeared four years ago when he was staked through the heart and turned into a blood splatter on the wall. The only reason he’s here now is because his sire, somehow your relative, took pity on him.

Reading is calming and before long you're yawning between paragraphs and curling deeper into your blanket. When you're on the verge of drifting off you stifle another long yawn and rub two fingers along your little bat friend's head. "I'm glad you came to say hello tonight," you tell the little creature, right before your eyes shut.

Max chirps softly, listening to your heartbeat slow down. Waiting until you are asleep before he moves. Changing back to a human form and watching you. Staring at you in awe, not hearing someone else approach.

He watches as his protégé stares at you. A smile curving his lips and exposing the pointed fangs. He senses the turbulent emotions in the younger man, able to sense what he is feeling since he created him. Linked in an inextricable way. He had hoped to visit you tonight, but he sinks back into the shadows with glee. You are already entertaining it seems.

******

Deciding that it is time for a conversation - not the one Max will want, but the one he will get for now – he disappears back downstairs and settles himself in the kitchen, knowing that Max has a tendency to go for a 'midnight snack' glass of blood before turning in for the night. Sleep is not necessary the way it is for humans, but rest helps to keep vampires strong. And Max is using quite a bit of stamina every night to transform in and out of bat form.

Max whistles as he comes in the kitchen, trying to put on an air of nonchalance as he grapples with the very real knowledge that his soulmate has been discovered. He had watched you for far too long, unable to move until you had shivered in your sleep. Picking you up and carrying you over to your bed as if you were no heavier than a feather, Max had tucked you into bed again. Closing the window like he had before and slipping out of the door to come down to the kitchen. Every step he had been taking away from you being one he was forcing himself to make.

His tendency toward dramatics is well documented, especially by those closest to him, so for him to be lounging in the pitch black kitchen when Max comes in and flicks on the light out of deeply ingrained habit? Well, it should surprise no one. The skies outside have torn open and the midnight rain is torrential, making the scene all the more delightfully gothic as rain pelts the kitchen windows across the room.

“Fucking shit.” Max isn’t afraid of much, but the sight of him appearing has the younger vampire jumping slightly, his dead heart nearly leaping to life in his chest. Relaxing slightly before he remembers. “Why are you here?”

“Business.” He answers, languidly rolling the word over in his tongue and drawing out the hissing sound of the last syllable. “Amongst other reasons.” There are already two glasses of blood poured and he gestures to the other side of the kitchen table for Max to join him.

Max snorts and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t refuse the invitation from his maker. “And does ‘other reasons’ include the human upstairs?”

“She seems to be settling in.” While it’s an observation instead of an actual answer, the older vampire shrugs one shoulder gracefully.

Frustrating, that is what the old man is. Hissing slightly, Max remembers that he also enjoys getting a rise out of people, so he leans back and picks up the glass of blood. “New pet?” He asks.

While he won’t give Max the satisfaction of a sharp reaction, he does set his glass down and let his eyes sweep over the younger vampire appraisingly. “As I understand it, she is the one keeping a pet. Not me.” He’s seen it with his own eyes. And while it’s unexpectedly charming, it certainly does represent a communication issue. “Or is ‘Cutie’ a different resident bat that I’ve not met before?”

It’s only because of the fresh blood that max has ingested that allows the flush to rise up under his skin. “She doesn’t know it’s any different from a regular bat.” He defends himself. How he knows about that, Max doesn’t know, but he always seems to know things he shouldn’t. As far as he knows, no one else in the house knows about his nearly nightly routine.

“She will eventually.” There’s spice in this blood. Something warm and tingling. Mrs. Taylor always somehow manages to provide the best of the best for him and he’s grateful to have had her for the last several hundred years. “One day she’ll know everything.”

“How long have you known?” That is the question that is burning under his skin. He doesn’t elaborate, knowing the elder understands what he is referring to.

“That she exists?” He is evasive by nature. Always has been. And he waves off the question with ease. “Her whole life.”

Max rolls his eyes again, obviously he should have been more specific. “That I am her soulmate?” He clarifies tightly.

“Oh?” One eyebrow quirks up in interest and he takes another sip of blood. “If that were true it would be a most interesting state of being. For you, of course. Entirely inconsequential to others.”

Max frowns, staring at the man who had changed him in college. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I firmly doubt the soulmate status of one infant vampire will matter much to the general population of mortals in the world.” The immortals, he knows, will take a great interest. They did the last time a vampire and witch were soulmates and they will take an even greater interest this time.

Max takes a sip of his blood. “Stimulating conversation, as always.”

Amused, his sire almost smiles but just the ghost of the expression makes it to his lips. “Ask the correct question and I will gladly answer.”

It’s always a game with him. “What is she to you?” Max demands, leaning forward and his eyes are darker than they should be, directed at his sire.

It isn’t the right question, but it is an important one. One that he isn’t quite ready to answer in full, but he swallows and lets his eyes close for a brief moment. “Now that Cookie is gone, she is everything to me.” It is an honest answer, if not a whole one. And certainly more than he would have given Max at any other time.

Max sighs, aware that he’s not going to get the answers he wants from the older vampire. “What’s the correct question, then?” He huffs. “Since you want to play your little games.”

“What is it you truly want to know, Maxwell?” He tilts his head in curiosity, wondering what the most important question is to his protégé’s beatless heart. The correct question is the one that matters the most — Max has not learned that lesson quite yet.

Max growls, increasingly frustrated and sure he’s not going to get an answer to his question. His maker is some kind of mood and it is impossible when he is like this. “Is she the reason I’m here?” He asks.

“Yes.” Although the question might give Max complicated feelings, his sire’s answer is simple. There is no other possible answer, in fact. “She is the reason for much.”

“Fuck.” Max is aware that the program that he was selected for was very high stakes, pun intended. Most humans were eaten. “Is she-“ he stops, wondering if he really wants to know this. “Is my connection with her the reason I was changed?”

“Partially.” After another sip of blood, his sire chuckles at the purses frown on Max’s face. “You were always going to graduate the program, Maxwell. But she is the reason that I am your sire and not a lesser vampire.”

“Because she’s somehow related to your soulmate?” He still doesn’t know the relation, but that’s because he’s never cared to ask. Not that Mrs. Taylor would spill if he didn’t wish for Max to know.

“Now you’re getting it.” The intention was never to keep the entire truth from Max. Never. But to tell him before telling you? He may be unscrupulous, but he is not uncaring.

“Why does one distant relative matter so much?” Max asks, frowning again. Since his own family turned their back on him, he’s hardened himself against that sort of connection.

“Have you ever known me to be careless in my decisions?” The honest question is not meant to be a trick, but it is meant to make Max think. “Have I not kept my family as close as I am able? And the families of those I have sired?” It may also be ever so slightly evasive, but he will not apologize for that just yet.

One thing Max can say for sure is that he is not careless. But it brings up another question. “Then why have you not brought her here sooner?” He huffs. “She’s been abused, that much is obvious.”

Shame is not a thing most creatures like to feel, and he likes it even less than most. But unfortunately shame is what he must endure, and for once he lets his protégé see the emotion in his face when he finds the younger man’s eyes. “I tried everything in my power to find her before now, but I was prevented. Kept from her. And I will never let such a thing happen again. Not for all the days I roam the endless earth. It is our duty now, to protect her. Yours and mine.”

Max bites his lip and nods. “I don’t know what she thinks of me.” He admits. “She’s more comfortable around the bat than the man. It’s- I’m drawn to her, now I know why.”

“She seemed quite fond of dancing with you.” Which is no small thing, and brings a smile unburdened to his lips. The fluffy pink tutu, tights, and shoes he had bought for an eager four-year-old spring to mind immediately. “Perhaps she ought to be trusted with the truth. That the bat and the man are one.”

Max huffs out a laugh. “And how should I do that?” He asks jokingly. “Just transform in front of her? She doesn’t believe vampires are real.”

A sigh overtakes him. Weary and far more emotional than he would normally let on, but your disbelief at the existence of vampires hurts more than he can possibly say. “She knows, in her soul. In her heart. But her mind has been bound from believing it.”

Max frowns slightly and rubs his tongue over his teeth. “It sounds like you believe she was supposed to be raised in this world.”

“Because she was.” A flash of anger in his eyes has to be tamped down before he says more than he should, but the point is firm. “She was born to it. She belongs here.”

“Okaaaaaay.” Max’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the passionate answer. Sometimes it seemed like Cookie was the only thing the older vampire cared about. Obviously you are just as important, though the connection is still vague. “It’s not like she’s your daughter or something.”

His sire huffs, burying anger and sadness back under mystery where they belong, and shakes his head. “A witch and a vampire having a child? What a fantastical thought.” His tone has turned droll under the guise of heaviness. “That would be the stuff of Legend if it were true.”

Max snorts and sends him a small smirk. “As if you aren’t already a legend.”

“Am I?” That flash of mystery and amusement graces his features and Max’s sire sits back in his chair. “I had nearly forgotten.”

It’s not like he had bragged about it. Max had to learn of his sire’s exploits through the rumor mill that seems to power a college. Even a vamp one. He wasn’t one to boast or rest on his laurels apparently. Max hadn’t known how great the honor of him being his sire was until he was nearly graduated. And just now, he’s learning the reason why he had turned him. “Aren’t you?” Max asks, taking another sip of the warm blood. “Maybe not.”

“If you want to bait someone, Maxwell, go find Eddie and tell him flannel has gone out of fashion.” He chuckles at his own joke, taking the last sip of blood from his goblet. “Understand fully, though, before you leave me tonight. That Dolly is of the utmost importance. She is the only priority that matters.”

The weight of his words settle on Max and he bites his lip before he voices the concern. “Should I- would you prefer that I leave her alone?” He asks, unsure of why he would be giving such an obvious warning.

“If that was my wish, you would never have known she existed.” His sire tells him honestly. “You would not have be among those I deemed worthy of eternal life, and you certainly would not have been brought back after that stunt four years ago.” He shakes his head, wishing now for wine more than blood. Something to temper the emotional rollercoaster he has been on since you were finally located weeks ago. “You have been brought here for her, Maxwell. Endeavor to be worthy of that honour.”

“I don’t think she wants romantic entanglements.” Max admits. “She’s - skittish and I’m….” He trails off and shrugs. With his sire, it’s a lot easier to admit shortcomings. “Not.”

“But it is what you want?” Knowing Max as he does, it takes a great deal of willpower for his sire not to play on Max’s usual cocky side. This is too important for that anyway.

“I-“ Max stops, unsure of how to answer that. He wants you, but he also knows that you aren’t ready for something like that. It’s why he had spent so much time as the bat lately. “For her to be happy.” He decides. How that happiness looks is up to you. He’s already been selfish and he’s paid too high a price to chance it again.

“Good.” There may not have technically been a correct question to ask earlier, but there was certainly a correct answer to this one, and Max has hit on it. “You will tell her the truth soon. She’s made of stronger stuff than whatever she’s been through.”

It sounds like an order, but Max nods. “I hope you are right.” He tells the vampire who had turned him into what he is now. “Otherwise, we ruin the only safe place she has.”

“It is all the stronger for having us in it.” He reminds the younger vampire. “In the meantime, not a word to Eddie or anyone else. Only Mrs. Taylor knows I’ve arrived.”

His brow lifts again, but he doesn’t say a word about it. “Then back to the tower with you.”

______

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