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skzdust · 3 months ago

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Bloody First Kisses

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

I've been meaning to write Changbin smut for the LONGEST time and I finally did it hehehe. And vampire smut too! The best kind of smut!

Summary: Vampire!Changbin knows he can come to you when he goes into heat every month, and both of you are staring to catch feelings.

Pairing: Sub!Vampire!Changbin x dom!reader

Includes: vampire bites, unprotected vaginal sex (USE CONDOMS!!), riding, pegging, "needy", "slut", first kisses, smut with feelings, but mostly smut

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone @caught-in-the-afterglow @palindrome969 @skzstan12345 @katsukis1wife @hyunjinsjeans @somethingkindazainy @silverstarburst

AU: Vampire

Network: @mirohs-aurora-society

Comments, reblogs, likes appreciated!!

Masterlist

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Your text conversations with Changbin were sparse. But at least they were consistent.

10:12pm, June 21

Changbin 🧛‍♂️: hey… so You: Hm? Changbin🧛‍♂️: you know why I’m texting you You: What? Changbin🧛‍♂️: c’mon You: You’re perfectly aware of what you’ve gotta say if you’re pulling up to me with a ‘hey… so’ Changbin🧛‍♂️: you’re gonna make me say it aren’t you You: Yeah I am lol Changbin🧛‍♂️: i’m just gonna come over Changbin🧛‍♂️: and we can talk then You: Oh didn’t I tell you? I moved Changbin🧛‍♂️: you didn’t actually did you? You: No Changbin. Changbin🧛‍♂️: ok then i’m omw Changbin🧛‍♂️: here

12:32am, July 19

Changbin🧛‍♂️: heyyy You: Damn, a whole month, and you didn’t even so much as text You: Not even a ‘made it home safe, y/n!’ after last time You: You’re gonna break my heart You: 😢 Changbin🧛‍♂️: wasn’t aware we were at the stage where you were looking for a ‘made it home safe, y/n!’ text Changbin🧛‍♂️: lmao You: Just come over Changbin🧛‍♂️: 🫡🫡 Changbin🧛‍♂️: here

3:34pm, July 19

Changbin🧛‍♂️: made it home safe, y/n! You: Good boy! Changbin🧛‍♂️: don’t condescend to me You: Aww but you liked it so much last night Changbin🧛‍♂️: … Changbin🧛‍♂️: no comment You: Yeah I’m sure you’ll have no comment in a month, too Changbin🧛‍♂️: NO COMMENT.

This time was a bit irregular, though.

10:58pm, August 20

Changbin🧛‍♂️: you up? You: Yeah lol Changbin🧛‍♂️: can i come over You: Yeah lol? You: All good? Changbin🧛‍♂️: i have a comment now

You’d barely looked at the text when there was a knock at your door. You hummed as you stood up. He was standing there, staring into the peephole of the door with bright red eyes.

You unlocked the door and swung it open.

He stood there, his eyelids heavy, his mouth half-open, his fangs peeking out from behind his lip. “Please let me in.” He practically whined.

You caressed his cheek, and his whine grew more desperate.

“Come inside, baby.”

He stepped into your apartment, and you locked the door behind him.

“Needy little vampire.” You whispered, brushing a piece of hair back from his face.

He didn’t need air, but a breath caught in his open mouth anyway, His eyes, still so red, gazed up into yours.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

“Bedroom.” You patted his face. “Clothes off.”

He shut his mouth, his eyes still impossibly wide. “Can I—”

“I’ll think about it.” You raised your eyebrows. “I told you bedroom, and I told you clothes off.”

He nodded, obediently taking his shirt off as he walked towards the bedroom, exposing his muscled back and quite frankly unfairly big arms. You hummed in appreciation.

He lay facedown on the bed and wiggled off his pants, pushing his ass in the air.

“Fuck, baby, so good for me, such a little slut.” You crooned, reaching for your strap on in the drawer.

He looked over his shoulder. “Are you—” He cut himself off with a whimper.

“Aww.” You said as you tighten the straps around your waist. “Stopping yourself, such a good boy.” You could’ve punished him for his slip up, but it’s so much fun to reward him, to fuck him senseless and then ride him till he’s begging to bite you.

He swallowed audibly, and you knew his fangs were out. He was turned on, he was painfully turned on, and he wanted not only to cum but to drink.

You were gonna let him, but not before some fun.

You reached for your lube, dripping some directly over his hole. You carefully slid one finger in. He clenched around you, whining.

“Does my slut like that?”

“Mhm.” He managed to get out.

You moved your finger a bit before removing it and going back with two. “You’re just sucking me in, aren’t you, baby?”

You added a third finger, and Changbin starts practically shaking, his arms strong enough to hold him but the sensation so powerful it overrode all that.

Changbin was submissive, but you’d never guess it from how he looked. He was big, strong; he looked every bit someone who’d manhandle you in bed, throw you around and fuck you. A vampire who’d bite you with a hard control.

But since that first time Changbin had asked you to fuck him, you hadn’t been able to see him as anything other than a needy mess. And he bit you with the desperation and fervor of a disciple worshipping their god.

You loved fucking him.

You didn’t love him. You just fucked him through his heats, let him bite you. That’s as far as it went.

Never mind that you’d begun hanging out with your mutual friends more just to see him. Or that you’d showed up at his place one night drunk out of your mind to fall asleep on his couch, because you felt safe there. Or that he’d showed up at your place drunk out of his mind to sleep on your couch because his friends had ditched him and your address was the only one he could remember.

You loved fucking him. You didn’t love him.

A confused, pathetic moan interrupted your thoughts. He was looking over his shoulder, whining as your fingers idly circled his rim.

“Oh.” You simpered. “You want me to fuck you.”

“Yeah.” He whined.

“Can’t just leave my little vampire needy like this.” You lubed up your strap, holding it to his hole. “Can I?”

You slowly began to push into him, stopping after a few seconds to let him adjust. “Should I stop here?”

“No, no!” He cried, pushing his face into the pillow, trying to quiet himself.

“Aww, don’t muffle yourself, baby. I want to hear you.” You pushed another inch inside him, wrenching a noise out of his throat.

“Okay.” He whispered.

“That’s a good boy.” You thrust the entire remaining length deep inside him, and he groaned, his back arching as he pushed up onto you.

“Fuck, fuck… fuck.” He panted as you readjusted.

You waited.

He whined. “Can you…”

“Can I…” You mocked, jerking your hips just a bit. “Use your words.”

“Can you fuck me?”

“You’re gonna have to ask prettier than that, baby. I know you can do it.”

“Please?” He said breathily.

You moved your hips a little. “More.”

“Please. Please, please fuck me.” He pushed his hips back, trying to get deeper on your cock. “Please, need it, need— ngh!”

You began to fuck him hard and fast, pushing your hips into his at a few different angles before a strangled cry informed you you’d hit what you were looking for.

You throbbed as you fucked him, the stimulation on your clit and pussy turning you on, but not as much as the sounds you got out of Changbin.

He was perfect, your perfect good boy.

Your hand found his back, tacky from sweat, and pushed it into the sheets. He moaned, arching even further into you.

“Fuck, good boy, good boy.” You pulled out of his ass, ignoring the wiggle of his hips as he chased you, and took off the strap-on. You rolled him onto his back and pushed it back inside him, not even bothering to detach the straps.

He moaned obscenely. “Need you to— need you on my— need your—”

“So fucking needy.” You groaned as you positioned yourself over his cock. “You’re gonna stay there, stuffed full, while I ride you, and then you’re gonna bite me.”

His pupils were huge in his red irises as he nodded. “Yes, yes, yes, please.”

You sank down on his cock, letting out a small noise of pleasure. He really did have a nice cock.

And a nice face, and a nice personality…

You were not catching feelings for him. No fucking way.

You started bouncing up and down on his cock, ignoring both the dull ache in your legs and your racing thoughts.

It didn’t take long for that strategy to work. You were the dominant in this situation, and both of you knew that, but you began to beg. “Changbin, God, need to cum on your cock.”

“Please cum.” His hands found your hips, gently holding them. “Please cum, I wanna cum, too, in you, while I bite you, while I drink—”

You leaned over him, tilting your head to expose your neck, your artery, your rushing pulse.

“Bite me when I cum.”

“Yes.” He whispered.

You rode him a little harder, watching his abs tighten as both of you came closer to your release.

“Changbin… now, bite me now!” You moaned, your hole clenching around him as you came.

His fangs dug into your neck, and you moaned even louder, rode him even harder, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands searched for anything to hold onto, settling on Changbin’s huge arms.

It hurt, but it felt so good, so intimate, so close, the two of you joined in multiple ways.

He came, too, his warmth filling you up, his jaw closing harder on your neck, pushing his fangs still deeper, drinking still harder.

You gave yourself completely over to him, moaning as he drank his fill from your neck. You felt lightheaded, and you couldn’t tell if it was from your release or the blood loss. Probably a bit of both.

He carefully pulled away from your neck, the motion jostling his cock inside you. One of his thumbs brushed over the twin holes he’d made on your neck, and he leaned forward again to lick a thick stripe over them.

You could get used to the feeling of his tongue, you thought.

You leaned in to kiss him.

That wasn’t something you’d done before. In all your hooking up, you’d never kissed Changbin.

But here he was, full up with a strap on, you wrapped around his cock, his mouth full of your blood, kissing you.

Kissing you.

This was a bad, bad idea. You shouldn’t fall for one of your friends, much less if he’s a vampire. Much less when you’ve been hooking up with him through his heats for the past few months.

But for as wrong as it was, his lips felt so good.

You pulled away. “Can we try this?”

Changbin blinked, his eyes gone more brown now. “Hm?”

“Can we try, uh, us. Can we go on a date or something?”

He blushed, your blood filling his cheeks. Somehow, knowing that made it more attractive. “Yeah, I’d really like that, y/n.”

You gave a small laugh. “Good… are you still….”

He nodded, looking away. “As you, um, as you know, the heats last… some time.”

“I do.” You kissed him again, hard. “And I’m always happy to help, no matter how long that may be.”

#mirohsaurorasociety #stray kids #stray kids fic #changbin #skz #skz changbin #skz smut #smut #changbin smut #seo changbin #vampire smut #vampire au #smut with feelings hehe #skzdust writes

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trylynarie · 1 year ago

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Hardcase: bro

Jesse: what bro?

Hardcase: Dooku is a vampire

Jesse: how?

Hardcase: THINK!!! Count Dooku…

Jesse: 👁️👄👁️ Count Dracula 🧛‍♂️

Rex on their next mission: can someone please explain why you are all wearing garlic?

Kix: simple safety precaution, Sir.

#star wars #clone wars #clone troopers #incorrect clone wars quotes #clone wars headcanons #501st battalion #501st headcanons #501st shenanigans #captain rex #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper #clone trooper kix #star wars the clone wars #star wars memes #clone wars imagine #clone wars incorrect quotes

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

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Vampire Waltz - ch 1

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: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Abusive relationship, getting *out* of an abusive relationship, alcoholism, alcohol, mention of sleeping in a car. Summary: One of the worst days of your life takes a sharp right turn into the unexpected when you learn of the death of a long-lost relative. Notes: It's heeeere! Spooky season has officially arrived and with it comes our annual spooky-themed soulmate story! Bringing our two canonical vampires together is going to be endless shenanigans. 🧛‍♂️🧡 Since this story is mostly set inside one of the mansions that I work in, we're planning on using photos of the house as chapter headers some of the time. Visual reference fun!

"Hurry up and get your shit." The drunken bellow from downstairs is followed up by a loud crash, another curse and a thump as your boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – continues to throw the equivalent of a temper tantrum. It hadn't been the first time you've fought, or that the asshole had threatened to throw you out on your ass, but the fist sized hole in the wall that had only been an inch from your face was new, escalating violence.

"Lazy, good for nothing cunt! I work all goddamn day and you couldn't even fucking do what I asked!"

It's not that you don't work. Or that you didn't work. But after getting fired four days ago following yet another day calling out of work to clean up some mess caused by your boyfriend, your manager had said it was the final straw and sent you packing. Since then you had tried to clean up the house, get the back-log of laundry out of the way, and at least make a nice dinner while you applied for new jobs. It isn't your fault that the neighbor's dog got into your yard and ripped a hole in one of his shirts on the clothesline. There is absolutely no way you could have done anything about it. But it is the thing that sent him over the deep end this time and has him screaming at you yet again.

Running upstairs was the best thing you could do to get away from his fist, and now you're just praying that you have enough trash bags in the house to cram your stuff into before he decides to come after you again. You'll be sleeping in your car tonight, but at least all the locks on the doors work. You can manage a few nights in a securely locked car. It's just...that you're not quite sure where you'll go after that.

The sound of the top to a Natural Light beer being cracked open sounds from the base of the stairwell and he takes several loud gulps. Belching from drinking too fast and hitting the wall with the flat of his hand. "Come on, bitch!" He calls out. "I ain't got all night!"

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you pace back to the top of the stairwell and lean down so you can actually see him. Ten goddamn years with this man and this is how it ends. "I'll be gone by the time you get home," you promise him, the resignation obvious in your voice. He'll go to the bar to see his friends like he does after he eats dinner almost every night. You've never been the kind of girlfriend to stop him from seeing his friends, so they have had a routine for almost as many years as you've been together.

"Good." He glares up at you and points a finger. "You better not take any of my shit either." He warns you. "Tired of taking care of your stupid ass. You're in for a rude wake up call. Shit's not easy out there." He burps again and turns around to stumble down the hall. "You are such a disappointment." He yells out before opening the front door and letting it slam behind him, rattling the windows.

"Yeah." You sigh, shaking your head with one of those cheap fleece throw blankets in your hand. It has ballet slippers on it, a relic of a childhood long dream long forgotten. "I know I am." Holding up the blanket to look at it more closely, you debate throwing the damn thing out entirely, but it will keep you warm in the car tonight. It will go into a trash bag along with everything else.

As soon as the blanket is shoved in with your two miniature throw pillows, your phone goes off in your pocket. Expecting it to be Derek, ready to yell at you some more, you're surprised to see Private splashed across the screen instead. If you don't answer it and it is him for any reason, there will be hell to pay. "Hello?"

The smooth, cultured voice on the other end of the line is slightly raspy. As if the person has spent a lifetime swallowing brandy and smoking cigars, or had spent all day talking. In actuality, both of those things are true. Your name is spoken in the form of a question. Asking if he had reached the right person.

"Speaking." The automatic answer doesn't make you feel any less confused, but at least they aren't yelling at you. "Can I ask who's calling, please?"

"Antonio Colette," He tells you quickly. "With Colette and Dupree. I am calling about your late, great aunt, Etienne Brown." He shuffles through the papers to bring up the will that had been laid out, along with the investigators report on you. It was how he had found your current number. "I am executing her estate and quite frankly, it has been a search to find you."

"I'm sorry," you shake your head against the phone as though the man could possibly see you. "I don't know anyone by that name. My, um...I don't know a lot of my family. But that isn't a name I recognize. Maybe you have the wrong person?" There is no reason that any family member you've never heard of would have left you anything in a will, so he must have the wrong number. That's the only explanation you can think of.

"No, ma'am." He tells you. "I don't think I have the wrong person. Is this not a good time to talk?" He can hear something in your voice, and while most were always happy to inherit something, you might have pressing matters to attend to.

Hesitating for a reason you can't quite put your finger on, you glance out the window in the corner of your now former bedroom, the one that overlooks the driveway. Derek's truck is gone, and your shoulders slump a little. You have hours until he comes home now. Usually it's not until after last call. "No...no it's okay. I'm just...not having a great day. What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Ms. Brown was very particular about her will. As executor of the estate, it is my duty to make sure that her last wishes are carried out. As there is no other living relative on your mother's side, she decided that you would be the sole heir of her estate." He explains. "This includes the eight-bedroom mansion and the trust that has been established to pay for the manor. Her private accounts. The total combined monetary worth of twelve point two million dollars."

The crash that he hears from your side of the phone call is you falling over – a product of your legs giving out the second he said the word mansion and then losing your balance all over again at the sum total of the estate. "Wh—what?" You manage to breathe, barely managing not to break down in tears all over again. For an entirely different reason, this time.

"Of course, there is one issue that you must be made aware of." He's used to people being surprised, so he doesn't try to explain. You will soon be holding paperwork that you can read again and again if needed. "There are two tenants in the mansion. Ms. Brown has given them a lifetime estate on the rooms they occupy." He tells you. "Meaning they live there for as long as they wish."

"O—okay..." As fast as your mind can possibly turn, you still feel like you can't quite keep up with it, and you end up curled up at the foot of your bed hugging the throw blanket that was still in your hands when your phone rang. "So...I just...get a mansion? And twe—twelve million dollars? And the only caveat is that I have two tenants?" None of it makes any sense, but you'll be damned if it doesn't sound like the perfect way out of the hell that you've found yourself in.

“Pretty much.” Antonio agrees. “When would you be available to tour the property and sign some paperwork?” He asks, flipping over to his calendar to pencil you in.

"I—" Stumbling again, your forehead drops onto the pillow clutched against your chest before you tip your head back and stare up at the mottled ceiling. "I guess...as soon as I can get there?" It's not as though you have anything else to do at the moment. Or even anyone to tell where you're going. "But, can I ask? Um...where exactly is this house?"

“Newport, Rhode Island.” He supplies. “I must confess that I could not find a current address for you, just this phone number, so I am not quite sure where you are traveling from.

"Dandridge, Tennessee." Six years you've lived in this town and it never felt like home, but maybe now that's for the best. With a sigh, you try to think if you've ever even heard of Newport, Rhode Island and come up entirely blank other than knowing that Rhode Island is in New England. Which is a pretty decent drive away. "It might take me a few days to drive up there. Maybe two days? Depending on how late into the night I drive."

“That’s fine.” Colette agrees. “I will give you my number. If you find yourself here quicker than you anticipate, give me a call and I can meet you with the keys.”

"Okay." For a second the brief fear that your car might not even last a two-day drive flashes through your mind but you push it aside and let out a sigh in favor of sitting up to grab the pen off your nearby desk so you can take down the lawyer's phone number. "I...um...thank you, Mr. Colette. This is..." It's insane. It's completely insane and you can't even wrap your head around it. "It's life changing."

“I will see you in two days.” Mr. Colette responds and then ends the call before he sighs. Dropping his head into his hand, he rubs his temple. Whoever you are, he feels sorry for you. No way you know what the hell you are getting into.

******

The first night you're honestly exhausted, and you end up sleeping in your packed-full car behind the twenty-four-hour diner with the really nice waitresses that don't get upset that you need a safe place to park for one night. Telling them that you're moving had done the trick, and the extremely kind pair of women had gotten their line cook to whip you up a sandwich for dinner and one more to take with you when you left town in the morning.

The gps on your phone – thank god the bill is in your name – says that it will take thirteen hours and thirty-seven minutes of driving. Deciding to go, go, go as best you can, you leave town at sunrise and end up crossing the border into Rhode Island at almost eleven that same night. Stopping for bathroom breaks and to gas up the car – plus traffic, of course – has cost some time, but you made it. Now all you had to do was make the last leg of the journey out to Newport. Surprised to find that Newport is actually on an island (didn't you learn at one point that Rhode Island isn't an island?) you pull into a truck stop to finally sleep for the night. You'll do the last forty-five minutes of the drive in the morning.

******

Feeling and probably looking like shit the next morning is the price you pay for getting here quickly, but you call the lawyer at nine in the morning when his office's website says it opens and arrange to meet him at the address he gives you. Bellevue Avenue just sounds fancy, and when you get to the island you realize why. This entire town seems filled to the brim with mansions, expensive shops, and swanky restaurants.

Antonio had been surprised that you had driven through the night, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. He gives you the address to his offices and tells his secretary to make sure that there is a good selection of bagels and muffins out this morning in case you would like something while you go over the paperwork. You are a very important client, and he would like to keep you if possible.

Tired and more than a little ragged, you pull your car up to the office on Thames Street and cut the engine with a sigh. There’s a lot of touristy stuff around, especially on this part of the island, and that means you haven’t seen a single dingy diner or fast food drive-up since you got here. Everything is expensive cafes and fancy restaurants. The thought that you might have to skip breakfast is discouraging until you walk into the lawyer’s office tentatively and smell coffee.

"Good morning." Raquel stands from behind her desk and smooths her pencil skirt down before she walks around the desk. Antonio and his partner prefer that she personally greet each client and she doesn't let her facial expression change from one of welcome when she sees the tired, beaten down appearance of the woman who walked into the door. Her heart clenches at the sight and even if you are not the client that he had been expecting, she will invite you to have some coffee and pastries while she waits for someone to work you into their calendar. "May I help you?" She asks as she offers her manicured hand to shake.

“I—I’m here to see Mr. Colette.” You give her your name along with the handshake she obviously expects, and try to shake the feeling that that smile of hers is probably plastered on. Of course it is. It’s first thing in the morning and she works in a law office.

"Of course." You are the important client, so she immediately waves you to the glass doors. "Please follow me." She tells you. "Mr. Colette is getting all the necessary documents together, but we have tea, coffee, bagels, and some delicious pastries available while you wait?" She wants you to feel comfortable as she walks you down the short hall to the smaller conference room where she had set everything up for the meeting.

“Thank you.” It doesn’t make one single bit of sense to you that they’ve gone through all this trouble, but this long-lost great aunt of yours must have been an important client. Maybe they think you’re important too? Well – they’ll be disabused of that idea pretty soon.

"Please let me know if there is anything I can get you." She senses that you aren't comfortable and she doesn't want to crowd you or do anything to upset you. "I'll let Mr. Colette know you are here."

There are a few minutes to wait, sitting in that conference room surrounded by food that you don’t dare touch, and you end up staring blankly at a photograph on the wall of a yacht on the ocean. It’s almost trance-like, how you sit there and stare, and you end up nearly jumping out of your seat when the heavy wooden doors open again and an elegant looking, well-dressed man walks through flanked by the woman who greeted you.

“Good morning.” Antonio smiles as he assesses the woman who had inherited a fortune and more. He is aware of the details of the will and the history behind it, so he feels like this is personal. “We will have quite a few things to go through, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to make myself a plate.” He chuckles. “No breakfast yet and I’m hungry.”

“Of course.” It’s a little bit like permission, and you feel comfortable enough pouring a cup of black coffee and putting a croissant on a plate for yourself when Mr. Colette motions for you to join him. In a few mere moments the three of you are sitting down at the conference table and Raquel presents her boss with a thick folder of paperwork in a leather sleeve and takes out her own notebook in turn.

“Now.” Antonio looks down at the paperwork and then back up at you. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He starts off with. “Hopefully this transition will be seamless for you and perhaps after this I can show you around your new home?”

“It still doesn’t feel very real,” you admit, carefully sipping your hot coffee and looking down at the papers in front of him. “And you said there’s two other people…already living there?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Family friends of Ms. Brown.” He tells you vaguely.

“Alright.” Already you’ve made up your mind not to bother them, these people who live in a house that you’re inheriting out of nowhere. Who are you to intrude in their lives? “I assume there’s a lot of paperwork? I’ve never owned a house before so this is all new to me.”

“The taxes and the maintenance for the home are paid out of the trust. So you do not need to worry about that. If anything happens, call and we will take care of getting the bill paid.” He explains. “I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering you debit cards and credit cards.” He pulls out an envelope and slides it over to you. “All of them are active and ready to use.”

So people really live like this, huh? is all you can think to yourself as the lawyer’s secretary also sets a card down in front of you that has a man’s name and phone number with the title of caretaker listed on it. That along with the cards already has your head spinning, but then a set of keys is set down on the table as well. Front door. Kitchen door. Terrace doors. Each antique key is labeled carefully with a tag in elegant handwriting. Closets. Attic storage. Utility closet. It’s so much to take in — too much, arguably — and then a set of car keys is added to the pile. “What’s this?” You ask, already starting to feel your head spin a little.

“This is the car.” Antonio tells you. “The 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray that Ms. Brown also willed to you.” He hums. “I have all the maintenance records for the car here as well. Her other cars were sold or given away before she died, but this one conveyed with her other belongings to you. I believe she said, ‘it goes with the house’.”

“I—um—wow…” Not that you know much about cars, but it sounds impressive and you’re momentarily thankful that you’ve been driving stick for the last few years, since your broken-down third-hand Volvo came into your life. “Are there any more surprises I should be aware of?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you will consider surprises.” The lawyer chuckles and slides a scrap of paper towards you. “The combination to the safe. It’s where the collection of Ms. Brown’s jewelry is.”

A safe full of jewels, a presumably fancy vintage car, a mansion, and a literal fortune? Frankly, it’s all a surprise. “If this house comes with servants I might black out,” you warn jokingly, staring at the slip of paper with the safe combination like it’s a foreign language.

“Well, the staff is paid from the trust.” He tells you seriously. “If you wish to make changes, please let me know. Right now….” He shuffles some papers. “There is the housekeeper and her assistant, the gardener, the pool company, and the window washer.” He looks up. “The pool company and window washer come by once a week. The gardener, the housekeeper and her assistant are all full time employees.”

The dead pan stare you have for the man is completely slack, and it takes far longer than you’re proud of to shake off the embarrassment of staring at him like an imbecile. “You’re serious?” You ask in equal parts confusion and awe. “I was kidding.”

“I assure you, the help is needed.” He tells you seriously. “A house of this size could not possibly be managed by one person alone.”

“Right.” The best you can do is nod vaguely and try not to have a panic attack over the responsibility landing in your lap, and you look between the lawyer and his clerk again. “You said it’s…eight bedrooms?” That place must be a palace…

“That is…the main bedrooms.” Antonio admits. “That doesn’t include the old servants’ quarters, although they are not occupied now.”

“Fuuuuck…” Even mumbling under your breath is obvious, and the paper that is slid in front of you is a clearly labeled blueprint of the house. Four floors, distinctly marked 38,000 square feet, and with more doorways, closets, and stairwells than you can shake a stick at.

“I can understand that it is overwhelming, but the staff is prepared for your arrival.” You look panicked and he doesn’t think that’s a good thing. It’s almost as if you feel…guilty.

“Can I ask…?” Swallowing down the dear at how daunting all of this feels, you abandon your small breakfast and sit back in the uncomfortable padded chair you’re seated in. “Anything about Ms. Brown? What did she do? How did she pass?” Where did all her money come from? The fact is, you had never even heard of her, but she left you an entire life.

“Ms. Brown died at 91.” He’s a little surprised that you are curious, but you don’t seem to be the type of person that is overly greedy. “Complications of old age.”

“I see.” Jittery fingers curl the edge of one page and you bite your lip, trying to see if anything doesn’t fit. But it all seems to knit together properly, in a way that just accidentally benefits you in the craziest way possible. “And she was just…independently wealthy?” It seems unlikely considering your family has so little, but who knows? Anything is possible.

“Some of it was leftover from her wealthy soulmate.” He admits. “They never had children. Some of it was from investments. She was a smart lady.”

“She must have been.” It’s easy to just waste money, you’ve seen that firsthand too many times. “Well…I assume I need to sign things? Make the ownership…official?”

“Absolutely.” He cracks a small smile. “Sign your life away, is the saying.”

Raquel slides a stack of papers over towards you. “All the places for you to sigh are indicated with a tab.”

A dozen different signatures and initials go by like lightning and before you know it, Raquel is excusing herself with the stack of papers to make copies and file things away. “Is there…anything else?” You ask, tentative about what else there could even be.

“Nothing that I can think of.” Mr. Colette hums. “I had the housekeeper stock the pantry and kitchen with basic items.” He tells you.

“That was very kind of you.” Since you aren’t really sure what else to say, you take a determined look at the pile of keys in front of you and muster a smile. “Would you mind showing me the house? The drive was long and it would be nice to settle in.” The further you get from Derek and his reach, the better off you know you will be. Even if you had loved him as best as you could — it had never been enough. Maybe these next people won’t be too disappointed in you. Not the way he was, at least.

“Of course.” He would make sure that you are comfortable before he turns you loose on the house. Or perhaps abandoning you to it would be a more apt phrasing. “Whenever you wish to leave here. I’ve cleared my schedule for the morning.”

“There’s no time like the present, I guess? I can follow you in my car.” You have half a mind to ask if the other occupants will be there, but you can’t see how he would possibly know that so you put the question aside in your mind.

“Of course.” He can’t think of anything else that needs to be address. “We will file all of the paperwork with the probate court and you will be receiving new registration for the car and a title to the house in four to six weeks. Sometimes it does take a few months.” He warns.

“I can’t imagine I’ll need them with any kind of speed.” After all, you have no plans to do anything of importance. In fact, if you never do anything besides sit in your little corner of this town for the rest of your life and remain unnoticed by everyone, you’ll be happier for it.

“Well.” He hands off the papers to the assistant and stands. “Shall we?” He asks, motioning towards the door.

******

Even with the heavy traffic of downtown Newport, the drive from the Law Offices of Colette & Dupree over to Bellevue Avenue takes under ten minutes. You drive by a grocery store and a drug store on the way – both good things to know the location of – as well as numerous high end shops, restaurants, and cafes. There is a bustling town here and it looks like students, too. Young adults with stuffed-full backpacks wearing all manner of paraphernalia that reads Salve Regina University seem to dominate certain areas.

After what seems like dozens of affluent homes, Mr. Colette’s blinker turns on before one of many stone walls and turns left into a driveway. When you follow suit and drive through the front gate, you’re glad to be alone because the gasp you let out is audible. Chateau-sur-Mer rises up and peeks out from behind trees like a monument. More massive than you ever would have dreamed of, the stone-faced house points north with a beautiful, multifaceted landscape surrounding it in every direction. Three stories, with a beautiful back porch, and spires and a tower to boot, the house is offset by a gigantic weeping tree that you don’t recognize and an otherwise reasonably sized house in one corner of the property that seems utterly dwarfed by the mansion it otherwise guards. Caretaker, you remember after a second. There is a caretaker…and presumably that is where he lives? It’s just…you had already had trouble wrapping your head around it. But now that you see it? It’s just…beautiful.

The sleek Jaguar comes to a stop and Antonio steps out and turns towards the older, slightly perilous looking Volvo. He hopes that you will get rid of it, or replace it now that you have the means. He had watched it seemingly buck several times while stopped at traffic lights.

“This is it?” If your question sounds dubious, it isn’t meant to. Honestly you’re almost too flabbergasted to really wrap your head around everything. There are a few cars parked under a structure to the left of the house that you assume used to be stables, from the look of it. Now the small windows that show you inside give a peak at bumpers and break lights instead of manes and carriages. There are a half dozen cars inside that you assume must belong to the other occupants and the staff, with more empty spaces standing open before the gorgeous black and chrome sports car that you now hold the keys to. “I mean it’s…it’s so much room. I’m almost glad there’s other people who will be around a lot.”

“The property is safe.” He assures you. “There’s a surveillance system that you can access and a security system that nothing in the world can rival.” He chuckles at his own joke and motions towards the house. “Shall we go inside?”

“Sure.” Not that you understand why one little old lady would need such a hardcore security system, but you nod anyway and let the lawyer – your lawyer? – lead the way. The house looms, almost daring you to come inside, but you are faced with an ordinary carved wooden door when you actually get close.

"It was built in 1852. Or completed in that year." Mr. Colette tells you as he takes the large keyring from you to unlock the front door and hands the keys back to you with a small grin. "It was once considered a ‘cottage’." He scoffs. "Although I tend to think of something a little smaller as a cottage."

“This is about four cottages all stacked on top of each other.” Walking through the front door cloaks you in near-darkness immediately. When your eyes adjust you stumble up a half-dozen wide marble steps into a front hall that grows up and up and up into an atrium taller than any you’ve ever seen before. The staircase behind you looks like it belongs to the set of a BBC drama and the thick red velvet curtains hanging in the entryway feel more like an old proscenium theater than a house. But the warm carved wood everywhere and colorfully painted forest scenes on the walls are immediately cozy in their own right. “Oh wow…” Your eyes are wide as you look around. It’s…it’s stunning.”

“Any changes you want to make, you are perfectly able to.” The lawyer reminds you, although he couldn’t imagine wanting to change anything about this estate. The mixture of Victorian and Gilded age architecture is a perfect combination to make a gorgeous house.

“I really don’t think that will be necessary.” After all, people already live here. The last thing you want to do is intrude on other people’s lives. “So this is the Great Hall, I guess?” The floor plan that Raquel gave you at the lawyer’s office is going to end up being invaluable, you think, as you pull it out and inspect the drawing of the first floor.

“Yes.” While he’s happy you don’t want to change anything, your tone makes it sound like it would be rude to do so. “The kitchens have been completely remodeled, modern appliances, but they still kept the charm of the rest of the house.”

“And that’s…” You consult the floor plan when there isn’t an obvious appliance anywhere in sight. “In the basement?”

“It is on the lower level.” Guiding you into the house, he explains. “Heat caused by the kitchens was unwanted so after the kitchens being in a different building fell out of fashion, they decided to make sure the kitchen was in the basement to keep the rest of the house cooler during the summer months. There’s the elevator over here, if you wish to use that instead of taking the stairs?”

Mr. Colette motions to the left of the main stairwell, to a portion of the first floor with red and black patterned flooring, and down a hallway. Curious enough to be led around by the suggestion and also noting that the floor plan in your hands says Servants’ Hall for this portion of the house, you follow him tentatively and watch him open what appeared to be a regular closet door. Instead there is a metal grating behind it, which is also opened, and a carved dark wood elevator car stands waiting for you. The kind of thing that would absolutely get you killed in a horror movie, it’s surprisingly sturdy when you step into it and Colette closes the door and gate easily. He presses the ‘B’ button before you can even ask about stairs and the antique elevator jolts to life, headed downstairs.

“Don’t worry,” he sends you a reassuring smile. “The elevator is safe.” He listens to the clanking and feels the carriage start to slow down.

The basement of this house is not like any basement you’ve ever been in before. The enormously long hallway with red and black flooring identical to the hall upstairs seems to stretch and stretch, and there are more doors down here than you could ever fathom needing. But there are voices coming from a room just a few yards away and that is both comforting and nerve-wracking at once. Other people means you won’t be lonely, but it also means new needs, new demands, and potentially new people to disappoint.

“Mr. Colette?” A woman’s voice sounds, loud and clear with a thick Rhode Island accent, from the room and only half a second later a tall, slim woman with gray and silver peppered through her brown hair and glasses attached to a beaded chain appears in the hall. “We weren’t sure when to expect you,” she says with a thin smile. “And this must be the new owner.”

“Yes.” The lawyer who has spent many hours in this house smiles at the housekeeper and waves your forward. Introducing you by your first and last name. “This is Marjorie Taylor and Renee Green. They are the ones who keep the house sparkling and the linens fresh.” He explains. “Mrs. Taylor would also cook for you if you would like.”

“I insist on it,” Mrs. Taylor informs you, smiling in a sort of polite-but-curious way and she shakes your hand when you offer it. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” When you falter and repeat your first name, thinking that maybe she had forgotten it or something, she shakes her head and gives you that same amused, thin-lipped smile. “There are a couple of things we stay old fashioned about here,” she tells you. But leaves out that the contract she signed with the rather suave gentleman who hired her specified it. “I’m Mrs. Taylor. This is Renee. The caretaker is Mr. Taylor, and the gardener is Mr. Finchley. The whole staff live in the caretaker’s cottage on the grounds and we are always reachable except for our day off each week. The schedule is written out for you. I left it on the desk in the library along with the necessary phone numbers and other important information.

“You’re very thorough, Mrs. Taylor.” It comes out with a note of surprise and you drop your eyes to the floor, embarrassed. “I mean — thank you. It is very much appreciated.”

“It is my pleasure.” She assures you with a soft smile. “It will be good to have people in the home again.” The others that were here kept to themselves and were often not around.

“I’m just one person,” you assure her, as if to say that you won’t cause trouble or get in the way. Those were things that Derek accused you of far too often. Even if it is the job that these people have taken on — the job not cleaning and cooking and taking care — you would never want to be a burden or a strain on them. “And…I tend to be fairly low key.”

“Well, I hope that you will let us take care of you.” Mrs. Taylor hums. “We have been delighted to hear that you had been located and were coming. I am sure that we will find a way to rub along together.”

“I’m sure.” You say, trying to smile and be reassuring. These people seem to be expecting a boss, not a wallflower, and that isn’t what you are. “I’m very glad to have gotten the call.” That, at least, is true.

“Would you like breakfast after the tour?” She asks. “I can have a tray brought up to whatever room you choose, and Mr. Taylor would be happy to bring up any luggage and boxes you have.”

Renee nods. “I would be happy to help you unpack.” She offers.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” You protest immediately, but both women give you such placid, polite smiles that you swallow your anxiety about butting into the house and replace it with fear of being rude. “I—I mean…thank you. That actually sounds very nice.”

“Our pleasure.” The elder woman assures you. “Perhaps later on, once you have settled in, we can go over your preferences.” She tilts her head. “For now, do you have any food allergies I should make note of?”

“None.” Just as soon as you shake your head though, something in your gut churns and the smell of Derek’s cheap beer somehow overtakes you out of nowhere. It’s like a sense memory you never needed, and you stammer inelegantly. “But I—I, um…I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean.” You did before. A long time ago. But seeing what it did to the man you thought you were going to spend your life with has ruined it for you. Soulmate or not, you had really thought Derek was the one. But his one comes in a can.

“Yes ma’am.” If it sounds odd to her, she doesn’t make it visible, just nodding politely. “I will make sure you have a nice tray sent up, I know you will be tired from travel.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.” “I’ll show our new resident The call buttons after she chooses a bedroom, so you’ll know where to bring her tray.” Colette assures the housekeeper with a smile. “We’ll just head back upstairs.”

“Perfect.” She smiles at the lawyer. “Oh, Max and Eddie aren’t here right now, so if you show her their rooms, just go right in.”

You thank both women again and follow Mr. Colette back upstairs, where he motions to the left of the hallway where the elevator is hidden and you end up in a room that is wall-to-wall cabinets. There are beautiful serving pieces and sets of China in those cases, as well as stunning crystal and glassware. If you ever throw a Victorian themed dinner party, it looks like you’ll be all set for dishes.

“The preservation society on the island has been itching to get their hands on this estate.” Antonio muses as he slows down to let you take in the vastness of the collection. “Ms. Brown always enjoyed thumbing her nose at them.” He chuckles quietly. “I believe that you would have liked her. She was a firecracker.”

“She had great taste.” There is a set of China in the cases that you keep coming back to — the intricate gilding and beautifully painted flowers utterly mesmerizing you for a few moments. There seem to be three different full sets of China here and two full sets of glassware. Every different size dish or glass you can think of is here.

“Now it is yours to keep and use however you wish.” He reminds you as he moves towards the display of real silverware.

“I think it’s actually harder to wrap my head around that now that I’m in the house,” you admit, trying for a laugh and just sort of letting out a huffed breath instead. On the floor plan, the door to the left of you is marked Butler’s Pantry and that seems like someplace you shouldn’t go. To the right, though, the plan says Dining Room. “This way next?” You guess? The door looks innocuous enough — it’s just a dining room. It can’t be that crazy.

“Wherever you would like to go.” Antonio insists as he pushes open the swinging double doors silently. The large dining room table with the massive set of three chandeliers dominates the room.

The gasp from your lips has you pretty sure that you’re going to be saying “Wow” a hell of a lot in this house, and every room just makes the feeling grow. From the forest green walls of the dining room outfitted with ornate carvings in dark wood – to the silver painted walls of the ballroom with its six foot high mirrors and gilt relief work on every wall panel. A parlor room off one end of the ballroom is all decorated in green silk fabric – even the walls – with clean white accents. Beyond that is a hallway with a stained-glass ceiling and a white marble floor that is decked in red leather sofas and contains huge white marble statues and paintings on the walls that are nearly life sized. The library is the most ornate yet, with carvings on every single wooden surface, lush carpeting and sitting space, and even a hidden door built into one bookcase. “Where does that go?” You ask immediately, too tentative to open it yourself.

“This, I believe, goes to the morning room.” He tells you, cocking his head as he thinks. “It has been some time since I have completely gone through the house.” He admits.

“Is it okay to go through? I mean the house is old but it’s not so old that it’s unsafe, right?” The idea of a door in a book axe is too good for anyone to pass up, especially you.

“Absolutely.” Antonio pulls the leaver to open the door. “Ms. Brown and her soulmate would spend quite I bit of time in this room. I believe it was her favorite.”

The middle section of the bookcase pulls toward you smoothly, allowing you and Mr. Colette to pass into a large corner room with enormous picture windows on two sides and built in bookcases on every other wall. Like an extension of the library there are books everywhere, a red leather windows seat that matches the sofas in the marble hall, and even intricate wooden shutters that close over the windows in sections to regulate how much light is let in. One side of the room is dominated by a large fireplace with yet one more large mirror set in the wall above it, and there are small statues all along the mantle. A billiard table takes up most of the space in the middle of the room, but a table and chairs and a desk also fit neatly with plenty of room to move.

“This house goes on forever,” you observe with a laugh of disbelief.

“It is one of the larger cottages.” He agrees. “In fact, it was the largest house until the Vanderbilts built the Breakers.” He imparts that little fact with a smirk as he looks around the room. “But I’ve always been fond of this estate.”

“It’s beautiful.” Having seen it up close and personal, you can imagine that photos don’t do it justice. It must seem crowded or busy in pictures. But in person? It’s like the house is hugging you. After another minute looking around the morning room, you follow Colette back out to the entryway and head upstairs. There is fabric, not wallpaper, hanging on the walls around the master staircase and it is painted with a forest scene that seems reminiscent of folk tales. Like magic could be lurking behind any corner or a satyr just might come out from behind a bush. There is a tree painted on the underside of the enormous staircase, trunk and branches extending upward to sprout leaves and welcome birds, and it crawls all the way up the stairwell to extend out to the ceiling of the second-floor landing and atrium. Dozens of little painted songbirds light on branches everywhere to make you feel like you have climbed into the forest that is painted on the walls.

“Every room has its own theme.” He explains at the top of the stairwell looking down the hallway at the doors. “If you don’t mind. I will step away to make a call.”

"Of course." Far be it from you to stop him from attending to his business, and you follow along the railing in the hallway to make your way into a different hall. This one is just a rectangular room with the now familiar built-in cases along the walls, paintings and intricate light fixtures above the cases, and six doors to choose from. To open them one by one seems like a massive intrusion, but you can't figure out any other way to see what else is up here. The floor plan marks four bedrooms on this floor as well as a sitting room and a nursery, though you can't understand why there is a nursery if there were never any children living here. Maybe your great-aunt and her soulmate wanted children but just could never have them? That's a far sadder thought than you can muster at the moment.

Hoping that you're facing the right direction, you open the door on the opposite wall from where you are standing and – yes, you had it right – the sitting room is full of plush chairs and love seats with a petite fireplace that has a huge flatscreen television over it where you assume a mirror once stood. The fireplace has a small stand inside it that obviously prevents fires from ever being laid, but more importantly seems to be the storage rack for multiple video game systems. Whoever Max and Eddie are, these other occupants of the house seem to thoroughly enjoy video games.

To the right of that room is a beautifully laid bedroom with honey colored furniture and homey gray and white pinstripe wallpaper. A writing desk stands at the ready between a window trimmed in lace curtains and a white marble fireplace, and it feels like exactly the kind of room that you would love to be brought to if you were a guest in someone's house. As much as it is sweet, inviting, and unexpectedly friendly, it feels…spoken for somehow. It’s nothing you can describe fully, but it makes you think that you shouldn’t disturb the room. Like whoever had claimed it originally might still come back one day to curl up in that bed or sit down at that desk.

There are two more bedrooms – one with furniture made of a wood that is somehow remarkably the same shade as roasted butternut squash and the other with a luxurious, if slightly gothic, yellow velvet and dark walnut loveseat and red upholstered chairs in it that all beg to be read in – but both rooms very obviously are occupied. These must be the rooms that Max and Eddie claimed whenever it was that they arrived. The next door to the left of Max's room yields a large, airy bedroom decorated in all sorts of shades and textures of blue with dark wood furniture and soft pink silk and lace curtains over the windows. A painting of a smiling young woman hangs above the fireplace with two lamps in the shapes of cherubs holding the light source aloft. Two cream-colored chairs sit by a small table and two more blue velvet chairs flank another. You could have a whole party in this spick-and-span room without any effort whatsoever.

“This is the one, I see.” Antonio has returned. Lingering in the doorway as he watches you move from Knick knack to knick knack with an almost dreamy expression on your face. “Let me show you the call system.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’m afraid that I am needed in court.”

A set of buttons by the door to what you very accidentally have apparently selected as your room will summon a member of the house's small staff, Mr. Colette tells you, and there is a similar button on a handle by your bed, almost like the call button for a nurse in the hospital. "Don't let me keep you," you murmur, waving off another apology from the man who has literally swept into your life and changed everything about it. The last thing you want is to stand in the way of anything he has to do. "I'll, um...I guess I'll unpack."

As if on a secret cue, the door to the elevator opens on the other side of the hall and an ornate rolling cart, much like the ones at the posh hotels, rolls out. Your trash bags are all neatly stacked with the few boxes and the one bag you had managed to take from your ex's house. The older, stately looking man pushing it does not judge, his sharp eyes looking for the room where the new owner has decided to take up residence so he can help in any way possible. Renee is behind him, a fully ladened tray on another rolling cart.

You can hear them rolling down the hallway before you see them, and Mr. Colette smiles in satisfaction. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, looking toward the doorway as the source of the noise comes into view. “If you need anything, you have your staff here, and my number. Please don’t hesitate.”

“Right. Thank you, Mr. Colette.” As soon as you say his name he disappears from view, and you’re left face-to-face with the embarrassing sight of your trash bags in this gorgeous home.

“I took the liberty of moving your car into the carriage house.” Mr. Taylor tells you. In addition to being the caretaker, he also maintains all the vehicles here. Your car is in sore need of some TLC and he is already itching to get to it.

“That’s very kind of you. You really don’t have to go through any extra trouble.” The sight of garbage bags just feels wrong in a house this old and grand, and it just makes you feel like apologizing for that, too. “As you can see it…it really shouldn’t take me too long to get settled in.”

“It just means you can rest.” Renee offers with a smile as she rolls the tray over to the couches and table. “Here, ma’am?” She asks politely.

"Hopefully it won't take too long to find a new job." The offhanded and automatic thought doesn't even phase you, although you don't enjoy the fact that you'll have to explain why your last place let you go. At least you can assure them that it won't happen anymore – since Derek isn't in your life there won't be any erratic or unexpected phone calls to have to respond to immediately. "Thank you, Renee. It...it all looks wonderful." Laden with a steaming silver coffeepot and fresh pastries with butter, jam, and fruit, the delicate China on the tray looks like it has been laid for a queen.

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Mr. Taylor quietly excuses himself, and Renee turns towards the cart with an eagerness to begin. “Do you have some specific organization for your things?” She asks, hoping to know how you would like things. “Or shall I organize them for you?”

Even if you had specific organization, it would no longer apply to this house. The feeling that everything should be in a specific place and that rooms have specific functions is very different from how you were living before. "I'm sure you'll know just where things are supposed to go," you tell her, with a definite air of 'because I don't have any clue'.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods and immediately whirls around to start wheeling the cart into the dressing room just off to the side of the bathroom.

"Renee?" Following her just a few steps and sticking your head into the dressing room, you have to swallow yet another sigh over how beautiful this house is and how grand everything seems at first blush. You shake it away, though, when her head pops up expectantly. "I don't suppose I could ask any of you to call me by my name, could I? Mrs. Taylor seemed rather set on using a title..."

“It— it’s not done.” Renee admits with a bashful smile. “Although Mrs. Taylor did call Ms. Brown by her nickname at Ms. Brown’s insistence.”

"She had a nickname?" For some reason that intrigues you, even though she had an unusual name to begin with. You've never heard of a woman named Etienne before.

“Cookie.” Renee smiles fondly. “She went by Cookie for as long as she could remember.”

"That's very sweet." And actually makes you smile too, though you can't quite figure out why it warms you through the way it does.

“Do you have a nickname, ma’am?” She asks curiously. “I am sure that Mrs. Taylor would have no issue using a nickname for you.”

"I—" About to protest that you really don't, or at least that you can't think of one, a long-lost memory gets dredged up from the bottom of your mind that you haven't given any thought to in a long time. "I used to like being called Dolly. Quite a lot."

“Yes Ms. Dolly.” The nickname is no more unusual than ‘Cookie’ and the smile that thinking of your nickname is soft and real as it makes you light up.

"Thank you, Renee." It actually relaxes you measurably just to have a little bit less formality, and you offer the girl another genuine, if small, smile.

"My pleasure." She turns back to the bag that is opened and starts to carefully remove all of the clothes to sort and organize into piles before she can fold or hang them. "I should have all of this sorted in just an hour or so."

"Please don't feel like you need to rush. It isn't like I have anywhere to go." The fact that someone else is doing your laundry makes you more than a little embarrassed but you try to remember that it's literally her job. "But...again...thank you."

She doesn't bother to remind you that it's her job, just humming quietly as she continues to make note of what you have that needs pressing.

"Renee?" Even after you've walked away, you double back to look into the dressing room where she is sorting through the things you brought from Tennessee. "Was, this...um...was this Ms. Brown's room?"

"It was, Dolly." She stands up and moves towards the door. "Does that upset you?"

"I...don't really know," you admit after a moment of thinking about it. "I think it's more that...I don't want to disturb it? Like if she had a favourite chair, or painting, or lamp or something, then I wouldn't ever want to move it." Saying it out loud makes you sigh, and you huff a laugh at yourself. "That probably sounds silly."

Her own laugh is slightly ironic. "Please don't worry about that." She assures you. "Ms. Brown loved to rearrange her furniture based off of how she was feeling that week." She tells you. "It drove Mrs. Taylor up the wall, but she would almost insist on moving most of it herself. Even up until a few years ago."

"Wasn't she in her 90s?" You ask, surprised to hear anything so active about the old woman who had lived here.

"She was spry." Renee can sense that you are eager for information about the older lady that had lived in this house. "She did love to pull the chaise in front of the windows and read." She tells you. "Especially on rainy days where the storm raged outside. She would sit with a pot of tea or hot chocolate for hours."

"God, that sounds so relaxing." And in a house full of books, who could blame her? You can't even imagine actually having the time to read every book you saw in the house while you were walking around. " I might have to follow suit for a little while. Just...until I find a new job."

Renee frowns slightly and tilts her head. "A job?" She asks. "Are you someone who likes to keep busy?"

"I guess—" It hadn't occurred to you that you could just not have a job, and that makes you frown far deeper than Renee is at the moment. "I guess so? I didn't really think...I've just always had a job. I didn't really think I'd ever be able to not have one..."

"Perhaps you have something you enjoy doing?" She asks. "Forgive me for being so forward, but you have the means to do whatever you wish now, Dolly."

"I guess I haven't really given it a lot of thought." That makes you frown again, this one considerably more confused, and you shrug your shoulders. "I won't bother you anymore. Thank you, Renee." It's a heady thought to chew over while you eat your breakfast, but it's something that you're going to have to think about. What did you dream about when you used to dream of growing up? You can barely remember anymore.

She doesn't want to pry, so she nods again and turns back towards the dressing room again. It's obvious that you are kind of lost and her heart goes out to you. Hopefully being here will make the sadness in your eyes disappear.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #a mysterious inheritance

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lettersfromaphrodite · 1 year ago

Text

[8.58]

― pairing : Chris x fem! reader ― content warnings : a tiny bit of angst, smut, fluff, vampire au, medieval settings, Chris is a vampire, soulmates au, mentions of blood, unprotected sex, fantasy au ― word count : 6.432

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🧛‍♂️ VAMPIRE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix

«I dare you to,» your friend pondered, before mumbling suggestively, «spend a night all alone at the haunted Manor.»

«What?!» you shrieked in disbelief as a chill ran down your spine at the mere mention of said house. The Forest Manor was a house surrounded in mystery; it didn’t look decadent, so it definitely had owners who looked after it, the gothic architecture gave it a mysterious and almost inaccessible aura and on top of this, the cases where people - blinded by courage, tried to enter the huge mansion were definitely not rare.

However, no one of them ever returned and so, through the years, numerous legends had been told: the most popular being about dangerous and thirsty vampires living in Forest Manor.

«You can refuse, if you want,» another one of your friends smirked mischievously, «but you will be called “coward” for the rest of your life.» they laughed, and your blood boiled.

If this was going to be your punishment for saying you believed in the existence of supernatural being, then you were going to accept it; screw your friends and their obnoxious and close mindset.

«Okay.» you simply said, clenching your fists together, trying to avoid acknowledging the fact that honestly, you were scared.

With your hands tightly gripping your skirt as your life depended on it, you walked through the most external part of the forest, ignoring the faint and frequent howls you heard not too distant from where you were, inevitably giving you chills.

“Why can’t I shut up,” you thought, trying to keep your breath even; walking alone in the dark through the forest was a terrifying experience, especially because - probably due to your fear, you had the feeling you heard steps every now and then. “I’m going to die in here, I know it.” you were about to trip in your dress, which unconventionally got stuck into a bundle of tree roots, and as you exasperatedly sighed at your own clumsiness and kneeled to untangle it, you could have sworn you heard someone chuckle just next to you.

Needless to say, you couldn’t see anything in the dark, and you finally regretted not to have brought a torch with you; it would have made you an easy target, but at least you could have been able to see something instead of letting your imagination run wild.

Probably, you spent hours wandering in the forest following the almost forgotten path that connected your village to the haunted Manor, but when you got there, no legend nor rumour could have prepared you for its singular beauty.

Rather than being centuries old, it seemed like it was merely a couple of years old, and you wondered whether you had walked on the wrong path; you carefully stepped out of the forest, and the threatening and dangerous aura made you froze in your tracks for a moment, almost making you feel like you were suffocating. You tensed up, feeling observed once again, your eyes rapidly scanning the iron gate and the stone wall running all around the house.

The Manor looked much bigger than you initially thought, and you wondered how many people could live in it; it was definitely too big for only one person. There was no sign of life inside; the lights were off, and the only source of light - beside the two small torches next to the iron gate, was the faint moonlight.

“I wonder, am I allowed to step closer?” you thought, and immediately, the threatening aura from the house seemed to vanish in thin air as soon as you took another step closer to the gate; you furrowed your brows, confused at what just happened. The feeling of being watched remained, but the tension and fear that you were feeling now were completely coming from your own soul; the Manor was now emitting an almost welcoming aura.

It was when you were about to touch the Manor’s gate that you stopped; what if someone really lived there? You could not trespass someone’s property like that, it wouldn’t be polite burst into someone’s house just because of a stupid bet.

With a sigh, you held your hand in mid-air, gradually retreating it until it was clutched against your chest once again; you made up your mind, you’d just climb on a tree and sleep there to be safe from the wolves, only to return in the morning and lie to your friends.

«Aw, leaving so soon?» someone near you chuckled, and you jolted your head towards your left in fear, not expecting for anyone to be there. A boy was looking at you with an amused smile and glimmering bright red eyes; he was sitting on the top of the stone wall, it being not too tall meant that the stranger was definitely a little bit too close to you.

«I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.» you politely bowed your head, nervousness momentarily paralyzing your body, and the stranger hummed, crossing his legs and partially balancing his weight on his left hand, so that he was leaning towards you.

«Someone dared you to come here, am I right?» he said, his head tilted on his side and his hair delicately falling on his face; from his annoyed - yet somehow amused, tone of voice, he was clearly used to this. A rush of embarrassment washed over you, realizing that you shouldn’t have accepted the bet in the first place.

«I’m sorry, I will be going.» you hastily said, turning around and starting to take your leave.

«The worst thing I could do is send a young lady back home in the middle of the night - while the wolves are on a hunt.» his voice made you stop in your tracks and you curiously looked at him. «And the house seemed to have accepted your presence already.» the stranger said while quickly glancing behind his shoulders; you furrowed your brows, before jolting forwards as you saw the boy purposely letting himself fall behind the wall.

Strangely enough, you didn’t hear any sound, meaning that the boy didn’t fall and hurt himself; in less than a second, he was standing in front of the now slightly opened gate with an unbothered expression and his clothes neatly in perfect order, utterly confusing you.

«Would you like to come in?» he offered you his gloved hand, and you were sure that as soon as your gaze locked with his from up close, your heart skipped a beat.

The boy - which introduced himself as Chris, was exceptionally handsome to the point that he almost looked inhuman; his pale complexion made him look ethereal, and his natural plump and rosy lips made him look like he just walked out one of the fairy-tale books you used to read when you were younger.

His eyes, however, were a bright crimson red, and the more you looked at him, the more you felt hypnotized with a weird feeling of recalling those warm, big eyes; it was definitely almost if-

«Have we already met before?» you mumbled more to yourself, but Chris heard you nonetheless; his eyes widened for a moment, before his expression turned incredibly soft for a few seconds.

«I’m afraid not,» he shook his head; you nodded at him, feeling silly because, if you ever met someone as handsome, you would have remembered for sure, «at least, not in this lifetime.» you thought you heard Chris mumble, but something in his sudden nostalgic expression made you refrain from asking further.

A sudden close howl interrupted the silence of the night, startling you and making you instinctively take a step towards Chris as if you were unconsciously looking for protection; you gently placed your hand in his and he smiled, leading you inside.

If you believed that the Manor looked huge from the outside, you were in for a big surprise; Chris led you through so many countless halls that at some point, you believed that the house was under a spell making it appear smaller on the outside.

Despite the fact that it was your first night visiting the Manor, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgic familiarity as you passed through a certain hall, which Chris simply skipped instead of leading you in it.

«Where does it lead?» you politely asked him, your gaze locking with a dark mahogany door.

«My personal chambers.» Chris simply explained, before starting to walk away; you nodded, not wanting to result too nosy since you were allowed to spend the night in a safe place instead of the woods.

However, the fact that Chris purposely avoided taking you there made you furrow your brows as a countless questions formed into your head; there were other people living with him, but he didn’t skip the hallways leading to their chambers, so why did he purposely avoid his?

«Don’t think too much about it,» Chris chuckled from next to you, successfully interrupting your thoughts, «maybe, one day, I’ll let you in.» you immediately adverted his gaze from his, suddenly finding his suggestion not so chaste and innocent, anymore.

Chris eventually led you to his study room, where he used to spend his time reading and researching about the most various things and so, that’s how you spent most of your night: sitting on two expensive armchairs next to each other while talking.

Something you couldn’t wrap your head on was the fact that Chris seemed so familiar, to you: the way he talked, the way he would gently lead you anywhere you wanted him to without ever letting go of your hand, the way he looked at you.

It was almost as if you knew him, but Chris had already said you never met before that night, so you decided that you probably should have stopped thinking about it.

Another thing that made you feel strange was the fact that you were indeed staying in a Manor supposedly inhabited by vampires, but you didn’t feel anything besides tranquillity and occasional nervousness, but the latter was completely because of Chris’ presence. From the moment he told you that you would have been safe, you believed him, and never doubted it ever again for the rest of the night.

The door of Chris’ studio opened without notice, slightly startling you, and a tall boy with blonde hair reaching his shoulders suddenly bursted in, looking distressed and definitely on a hurry; his eyes were a bright crimson red as well.

«Chris,» the boy said, apparently, he still didn’t took notice about the fact that you were in the room as well, «where are the necromancers? I have an issue afoot.»

«Hyunjin.» Chris simply answered, his stern tone completely different from the one he had been using with you; your eyes were still locked on Hyunjin, which immediately looked at you with wide eyes before his features eventually illuminated in a nice, friendly smile.

«Oh! You’re finally back!» he said, waving a hand towards you, which weakly waved at him as well, even if you were confused at his words.

«I’ll go ask Han, I bet he knows.» and with that, he left with the same hurry he invaded your small comfortable bubble.

Finally glancing at Chris, you couldn’t help but giggle about the fact that he was staring at the now closed door with an exasperated expression while he kept rubbing his temples.

«So, do necromancers exist as well?» you asked him, momentarily forgetting about the fact that Hyunjin just acted like you knew each other.

«As well?» Chris looked back at you, with a confused frown, and for an unknown reason, you decided to confess; after all, you were not the first one visiting the Forest Manor because of a bet, right?

«I said that I believed that supernatural beings exist,» you admitted, your gaze drifting to the numerous shelves filled with books adorning the walls, «my friends dared me to spend the night here, since rumours say it’s inherited by vampires.»

«And you believe in it?» Chris asked you with a gentle tone; you knew that, differently from your friends, he didn’t ask about it with the intention to judge you for your beliefs, and you also knew that common human people didn’t normally have bright red eyes. You shrugged, and Chris accepted your silent vague answer; despite the fact that he had so many things to tell you, he knew that it was still too early for that.

Eventually, somewhere during your talk, you drifted off to sleep, the vague feeling of a warm blanket being draped over you making you wake up for a second; you thought that your mind also registered the fact that Chris kissed the top of your head, but you weren’t sure.

«You’re alive?!» was the first thing you heard from your friends as soon as they saw you walk back into the village completely unharmed; you scoffed at them, before they started asking you a countless numbers of questions.

Of course, you didn’t say anything about Chris or your night, but simply said that a family lived there and gladly hosted you from the night.

Since the first night you’ve been at the Forest Manor, your visits became pretty much frequent; if at first you went there during the night, you eventually ended up visiting during various times of the day. Needless to say, you did it in order to see Chris, which was absolutely happy anytime he saw you walking out the forest and towards the Manor.

Two months later, you were absolutely sure that you developed a crush for Chris; he was gentle, caring, mature, funny. Chris was definitely everything you were looking for in a man, and definitely no one in your village had ever made your heart race as he could. Sometimes, you had the feelings that your crush was reciprocated, but Chris kept acting neutral about it, still leading you around the Manor while politely holding your hand and, sometimes, not leaving it as soon as you reached your destination.

By now, you’ve met every one of the boys living with him, and the fact that every single one of them acted like Hyunjin when he first saw you, confused you to no end.

However, they never explained what they meant with their «We’ve missed you!» or «Chris is finally in a good mood now that you’re back.», and eventually, you dropped the topic.

Even if you wanted to know, you knew it was better not to be too insistent about it; despite the fact that they never confirmed it, you were almost completely sure that they were vampires, and even if they somehow considered you a friend, you knew better than to get on their nerves.

Strong arms partially held you up and you were instantly pulled towards a boy’s chest, which was holding you like you were made of crystal about to shatter in million pieces; you felt so weak that you couldn’t hold your head up, and the sound of the boy’s choked pleads interrupted by loud sobs made your heart clench in sorrow.

You knew you were dreaming, but even so, you couldn’t move as you pleased, you couldn’t do anything; it almost felt like you were remembering something from someone else’s life.

«Please,» the boy spoke, his voice sounding dangerously like Chris’, «I can’t lose you again.» even if you felt weaker each passing second, the only thing you wanted to do was to reach out and comfort the boy, which continued to cry while holding you up.

Eventually, he re-arranged your position, holding your head up in the crook of his neck as he held your body close like it was the last time. The feeling of his cold and gentle hands sliding from your cheek to your hair were the only thing you could feel, since the “you” in your dream still had her eyes closed.

«I’ll come back,» you heard yourself say, «I always do.» you felt hurt at your own words, knowing that any kind of pain the boy was going through, he didn’t deserve it; finally, you opened your eyes, looking up to see Chris’ shaking frame, his tears falling on your face as he repeatedly shook his head.

The crimson gentle eyes you were used to see were now wide and filled with desperation, and out the corner of your eye, you saw yourself weakly trying to lift your hand in order to wipe away his tears; however, you were too weak, and your hand fell back on your lap without managing to touch Chris’ ethereal features.

«Don’t go, not again.» he pleaded, «Not this time, not again.» he kept repeating, and as if you felt the “you” in your dream slowly dying, you felt yourself waking up in your own reality.

To say that you spent the whole day feeling distressed was an understatement; no matter what you did, you kept having strange glimpses of memories involving Chris that were definitely not yours. Or, were they?

Slowly, you spent your day re-arranging together the pieces you got: Chris seemed incredibly familiar and he acted as if he had known you for a while, his friends talked to you as if they had been waiting for you, you were the only human that was allowed to visit the Manor anytime she wanted, and now, you kept having random flashbacks about Chris. You were sure you were about to have a headache from thinking so hard, but you needed answers.

Contrarily to the other times you went to see Chris, this time you didn’t pay attention to your dress; you acted on instinct, your feet leading you towards the Manor, where you eventually found Chris sitting on top of the stone wall, exactly like the first night you met.

As soon as your eyes met, you were certain about your theory: Chris was your soulmate.

«How many times did you have to go through that?» you asked weakly, standing few steps away from him; Chris furrowed your brows in confusion, before his eyes eventually widened; in a blink of an eye, he was in front of you, his gloved hand ghosting over the outline of your jaw.

«I’m pretty old, by now I think I’ve lost count.» he admitted with a smile, and you felt your heart clench at his words; you felt angry at yourself – actually at your past selves, for being so selfish.

«I’m so sorry,» you mumbled weakly, before throwing yourself into Chris’ strong arms, the sensation foreign but yet so familiar; his arms circled your helpless frame, pulling your body close to his, «I’ve always been selfish, I’m sorry.» you were crying, your tears falling on Chris’ expensive shirt and your shoulders shaking.

«I always let you choose, and I always will.» he gently confessed, caressing your back and trying to help you calm down, «If you were to choose your human life again, I’ll wait for you and find you again.» despite the fact that in this life, you’ve known Chris for a little less than three months, you’ve never felt so loved.

That night, was the first time Chris let you into his bedroom, and you understood the reason why he never let you in the same moment he closed the door behind you; a wave of memories washed over you, consecutive fragments of moments spent with Chris. You felt your knees go weak, you were sure you would have fallen due to the intensity of it all, if it weren’t for Chris wrapping his arms around your waist.

Chris was sitting on the bed now, his back resting against few pillow pressed against the headboard; you were sitting next to him but partially sideways, so that you could constantly look at him, your legs were thrown over his lap.

During all the time you spent at the Manor, both you and Chris kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, but since you somehow regained your memories, you wanted to keep him as close as possible. For the first time since you met, Chris had took off his leather gloves, his touch was as cold as ice and left shivers along your skin.

«I missed it.» he murmured, his eyes focused on the trail of goosebumps on your arms erupting anytime he ran his fingertips on your skin.

That night, Chris confessed everything to you; he was a vampire, and – confirming your theory, the two of you were soulmates. Somehow, he always managed to find you and every time, you always managed to fall in love with him; however, in the end, you’d always choose your human life, trusting the fact that you’d meet again.

Hesitantly, Chris answered to your question about the longest time he had to wait for you, saying that he was about to go crazy.

«Two hundred years are pretty long, I thought you wouldn’t reincarnate anymore, that I had lost you for good,» Chris’ gaze was unfocused, before he eventually erupted into a smile, «but then you walked out of the woods because of a bet.» you held his hands in a tight grip, aware that you couldn’t even imagine how much he had suffered because of your selfishness.

«You don’t deserve a soulmate like me.» you confessed, but he shook his head.

«What kind of soulmate would I be if I choose for you?» somewhere, deep in your soul, Chris’ words made you realize that maybe, this time you weren’t so afraid of living for eternity anymore.

«I’ve seen so many versions of you during the centuries,» he chuckled, distracting you from your thoughts, «It was like… seeing your adolescence’s stages.» you covered your face in embarrassment, asking him which one was the worst. «Oh, the vampire hunter definitely gave me a hard time.» Chris admitted with a sigh, recalling the time he had to physically fight you in order to defend himself.

«Did I hurt you?» you immediately asked, scooping closer to his frame, eager to listen to the things that you did in your previous lives.

Chris simply shook his head, looking at you with malice, «You got your memories back just in time.»

«During a fight? And how could that happen?» you scoffed, not believing to Chris’ words until you took notice of the emotions his eyes held; with extremely slow movements, he lifted his hand to your chin, his eyes repeatedly shifting from your eyes to your lips as he started inching closer. Judging by his sudden smug smile, you were sure that Chris could hear your heartbeat hammering in your chest, and you inched closer as well, meeting his lips halfway.

As you felt Chris’ full lips on yours, your head started to spin; you definitely couldn’t imagine that a wave of such intense emotion would fall over you as soon as you kissed him.

To you, his lips tasted like home, the familiar sense of security and love that had irremediably made you fall in love with him all over again, life after life.

To Chris, your lips tasted like a bittersweet déjà-vu; he’s had countless of first kisses with you, and he inevitably fell in love with each single different reincarnation of you, but still, you always ended up slipping away from his grasp.

Chris’ hand moved on your nape in a swift, gentle movement, tilting your head just to deepen the kiss, as if he could kiss his own desperation away; he knew how the story would have gone, but nonetheless, he loved you enough to wait for you for eternity, if he needed.

Weakly gripping on the collar of his shirt, you sighed into the kiss, pulling Chris even further into you; even if you didn’t want to mention it, you kept having small flashes about your past lives, and so you wanted to keep on kissing him, just to know more about what you could not remember.

A hiss escaped your mouth as Chris unintentionally grazed your inner lip with one of his fangs, and you parted from him, finally taking him his appearance: not only Chris’ eyes seemed to glow a deeper shade of red now that he smelled a little droplet of blood, but also, his lips were slightly parted and his fangs were exposed.

However, the thing that completely felt your heart sink in your stomach, was the fact that Chris had signs of dried tears on his cheeks. Instantly, you reached out to gently cup his face, not caring about the fact that you were bleeding and he could have killed you, and Chris simply tightly closed his eyes.

«I’m sorry,» he sighed, «I thought you wouldn’t come back.» you hugged him without thinking, your eyes blankly staring at the wall.

You didn’t see Chris for the next week, since you were forced to stay in bed due to a sudden high fever. Strangely enough, anytime you slept, your dreams were composed by a strange mixture composed of memories about your past lives and memories about your present life, to the point where you couldn’t tell what was the truth and what was caused by your fever.

Forced to stay at home, you definitely had enough time to think about what were your intentions, and day after day, you managed to realize what you really wanted to do and so, on a Thursday morning, despite your fever wasn’t completely gone, you quickly washed up and dressed yourself, heading towards the Forest Manor.

«Where is Chris?» you asked Seungmin, which eyes immediately widened over the book he was busy reading.

«Uh,» he said, his gaze nervously shifting towards Minho, sitting next to him on the leather couch.

«There’s a new restaurant in town,» Minho said, covering up for Seungmin’s lack of explanation, «He and the others went there.» With a scoff, you put your hands on your hips, rage and jealousy bubbling up inside you.

«I came here with a fever telling him I was ready to stay and he goes around feeding on other girls?»

«Girls?» Seungmin questioned, furrowing his brows.

«You’re staying?!» Minho exclaimed at the same time, excitement evident in his voice; you plopped yourself on the leather chair in front of the two vampires, which were looking at you with two different emotions plastered on his face.

«I made up my mind.» you told Minho, which eagerly nodded, whispering a soft «I’m happy, then.»

«Isn’t he feeding from… the ones who works… you know…» you tried to be as eloquent as you could with a simple hand gesture. Of course, you were thinking about the worst option: brothels.

Deep inside, you knew that Chris would never do this to you, but in that very moment, your fever suggested you that it was the most plausible excuse. Seungmin eventually interrupted your thoughts with his contagious laugh, and Minho snorted.

«I can promise you he’s not. He’s the shame of our family,» he said, shaking his head, «He feeds from animals.»

«Oh!» you replied immediately, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. «Of course, animals have blood as well… I'm… an idiot.» you muttered to yourself, but they heard you nonetheless, and did their best to chuckle without sounding too disrespectful. Despite that, you decided to wait for his return.

«Oi, we’re home-oh, hi!» Chris said, entering the living room, and your eyes locked with his lips, still faintly tainted red.

«Yeah, we’re going out.» both Minho and Seungmin said, walking towards the other boys now standing behind Chris. Hyunjin and Changbin looked at each other with furrowed brows, while Han and Jeongin were already on their way to come and sit next to you, happy about your presence in the Manor, claiming that everything was more enjoyable anytime you were around.

«But we just came back?» Felix questioned, and Minho quickly grabbed his forearm, not bothering to repeat himself.

«You’re gonna be alone until tomorrow night.» Seungmin winked at you, before patting Chris’ on his shoulder and exiting the room along with the others.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Chris’ gaze, nor to bring up your decision.

The awkward nervousness you felt, eventually, completely disappeared as you and Chris changed for the night and laid together on his bed.

It wasn’t the first time you spent at the Manor, but now that you made up your mind, it definitely felt way more intimate. Chris was sitting on the bed, balancing himself with his left hand lazily spread out behind him, while his right hand was draped around your waist, pulling your chest flush to his; you were straddling him, the thin fabric of your night dress not leaving much to the imagination, its fabric pooled around your thighs and your arms gently cupping Chris’ cheeks.

«I need you, I-» Chris mumbled against your throat; despite his skin was cold, his kisses made you feel like you were burning up. His voice was extremely hoarse, and you deduced it was from his hunger. «I need your blood,» he said, his hand tightly gripping your waist with a strained whine, «I need you.» his voice was low, and his arms were holding your body impossibly close to his.

Despite the fact that you were sitting on top of Chris and he was occasionally glancing at you with eyes full of desire, you didn’t have the slightest trace of control over the situation.

With a breathless whimper, Chris’ hand slid inside your nightgown, tightly gripping on your thigh as you completely sat on his lap in a silent answer; now that you were completely pressed against his body, you could feel that he was already hard. You knew Chris loved you, you knew Chris desired you, but still, knowing that only you could reduce him in that state made you feel incredibly powerful; knotting your hand in his hair, you connected your lips at the same time you hesitantly grinded on him, swallowing with your mouth the surprised moan that escaped your lover’s lips.

Chris eagerly returned the kiss with fervour, and it quickly turned into a passionate make out session, your body shaking lightly anytime you felt Chris’ fangs graze on your skin.

«I want to be yours, Chris,» you murmured against his lips, as he effortlessly rolled you on the bed, so that he was on top of you.

«You already are,» he murmured back, tilting his head just enough to deepen your steamy kiss, his tongue making you momentarily forget about what you wanted to say.

«No, yours… yours.» you whimpered, unsure whether what you were saying had any sense, but, in the moment you felt Chris’ knee spreading your thighs and his full lips closing on your lower lip just to pull on it as his head drew back, you swore you were about to lose all the traces of sanity you had.

The thing was: earlier, you didn’t have enough courage to confess him that you wanted him to turn you, but somehow, the feeling of Chris’ erection pressed against your inner thigh made you think that it was definitely the best moment in the world to ask your boyfriend - which happened to be a vampire, to turn you into one as well.

It was like you could hear the imaginary gears inside Chris’ head spinning as he gradually slowed down the pace of his kisses. What were movements purely driven by lust were now once again gentle, unsure and tender movements.

«What are you asking about, exactly?» Chris asked, kiss lips in moving on the side of your neck; you took a big sigh, circling his waist with your arms.

«I want to stay with you,» you confessed, unsure on which words you should use, «for eternity.»

Chris’ body tensed up, and he slowly pulled away from you in order to sit back up, balancing himself on his ankles, he run a hand through his already messy hair, before eventually caressing your thighs in a loving manner.

«Are you sure about what you’re asking?» Chris mumbled, his red crimson eyes burning into yours, and immediately you nodded, sitting up as well.

«I spent a lot of time thinking about it. I’ve been selfish, and yet, you still waited for me.» you explained, holding his gaze, «I don’t want you to suffer again, and I don’t want to be parted from you again.» Chris attentively listened to you, before eventually, his serious expression turned into a soft one, a gentle smile adorning his full lips.

«If that’s what you want,» Chris gently pushed on your shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough to make you fall back on the mattress, «Enjoy your last night as a human.» he gave you a sly smile, before ripping the fabric of your nightdress.

«What a show off.» your laugh was cut off by a surprised moan, as Chris’ lips closed around your nipple.

Chris spent the night worshipping your body; he made sure to kiss almost every millimetre on your skin, mumbling praises and confessions of love every now and then. You didn’t know how much time he spent with his head between your legs, but you were certain about the fact that you already came twice and your legs were shaking.

The feeling of his fingers and tongue working together to lead you towards another orgasm made you squirm both in anticipation and both in a slight different need. As much as you loved the feeling of Chris’ tongue repeatedly teasing your wetness, you kept growing impatient with the desire of feeling him buried inside you. Chris’ lips harshly sucked on your clit as his fingers curled inside you, and another orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, your legs tensing up before weakly falling back on the bed.

«Can you come again?» Chris husky voice mumbled, kissing your now sweaty body all the way back to your lips; completely aware about the fact that you probably created a small pool of wetness under your lower half, you nodded, running your thumb over Chris’ plump lips and smearing the remaining proofs about the fact that you came not one, not two, but three times thanks to his tongue.

With a smile, Chris tilted his head enough to suck your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digit as he aligned himself with your entrance before bottoming out with a single thrust. Chris head fell in the crook of your shoulder, and you were thankful your thumb wasn’t in his mouth anymore because you felt his jaw clench at the point it sounded almost painful.

«I missed you so much,» you heard him murmur on your skin, and you gently caressed his hair, kissing his temple as a doubt made its way in your head.

«Did you ever-»

«Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,» Chris cut your words, lifting his head up just enough to look at you in the eyes, «I could never lay with anyone else,» he mumbled, shaking his head, «I would never.»

Even if you already knew the answer to your silent doubt, hearing those words from him made you feel incredibly better, and incredibly loved. Chris had started moving his hips in a slow pace by now, clearly holding back and being too concerned trying not to hurt you by being too rough.

«Show me how much you missed me, then.» you said, lifting your hips to change the angle of his thrusts just to make him reach a little deeper than before, action which earned you a choked whimper from Chris.

«Good luck.» Chris scoffed, his crimson eyes burning into yours as he was re-adjusting his position; from the moment he started moving again, you completely lost the ability to think due to how good you were feeling.

The fact that vampires were faster than human beings definitely came in hand; Chris’ movements were passionate, his fingers were alternating between stimulating your clit and your breasts, and his lips continuously made sure to leave an intricate pattern of kisses along the expanse of skin within his reach.

Needless to say, you quickly approached your orgasm, and as Chris felt you clench around him and gradually tensing up, he slowed his pace, but kept stimulating your clit with his fingers, just to bite on the side of your neck as you finally came with a loud moan.

The sensation of an orgasm was per se intense, but the bite of a vampire, somehow, prolonged the sensation as long as they fed from you; you were gripping Chris’ back, your nails sinking into his skin and drawing deep red lines, before eventually, you lost consciousness because your neck was burning.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up, was Chris sitting on the bed next to you, quietly reading a book; you groaned, rolling on your side.

Despite your throat was burning as if you’ve never drank anything in your life, you also felt like your senses were heightened; you could hear what the boys were talking about from different part of the house, the sensation unusual but definitely something you could get used to.

With a quick movement, you swatted the book away from Chris’ hand, not caring about it flying on the floor, and placed your head on his thighs.

«Good morning, sunshine.» Chris chuckled at the fact that the first thing you did as soon as you woke up as a vampire, was cuddling on his side; his hand brushed your hair, and you hummed.

«Thirsty,» you croaked, ignoring the stinging sensation you felt in your lungs. Minho walked in the room few moments later, since he clearly heard what you said; he stopped on the doorway, holding to large glasses filled with blood in his hands.

«Oh my God,» he sighed, «You look dead.»

«Yeah?» you retorted, quickly sitting up in anticipation of finally drinking something, «Go look yourself in the mirror.»

«I fucking hate you.» Minho laughed, incredulous, and you could hear the others – which were curious about when you would wake up but they didn’t want to disturb you too much, laughing as well.

The moment when Chris held you tight to his body without having to measure his strength in fear to hurt you, you knew you made the right choice.

«I’m sorry it took me so much.» you confessed, eager to learn everything about your new life and eager about spending it with Chris.

«It was worth it.» you heard him whisper, followed by a content, soft sigh.

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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