#eddie btvs x you

[wardenparker]

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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My Masterlist!

[shy-taylorsversion]

hey y’all!! request are open!! i’ll write them as i get them/when i can. if i’m a little slow, i apologize. i’m a student and now work so forgive me.

who i write for and what i write below the cut…

who i write for -

supernatural

dean winchester

the vampire diaries universe

damon salvatore

buffy the vampire slayer

spike

bridgerton

anthony bridgerton

benedict bridgerton

colin bridgerton

stranger things

steve harrington

eddie munson

billy hargrove

tlou

joel miller

the walking dead

rick grimes

daryl dixon

negan smith

~~~~~

content wise i will not write

no incest, rape/non-con etc

most fics will be female readers unless stated other wise. i’ll gladly do gender neutral just ask!!

nothing disrespectful to other races, religions, communities or cultures.

most things to do with pregnancy, it’s just not

my thing

other than that, everything else is fair game.

if there’s anything i missed and you have a request, just ask!

[prolix-yuy]

I LOVEEEEEE unconventional vampire stories! This one is so cool! I love how you have her guide Eddie in feeding, and her experiences soothing his terrible first one. Max is the perfect asshole maker too, the perfect mix of attractive and douchebag. I'm especially in love with Bella! I adore her confidence, her sex appeal, and how she puts Max in! His! Place! I hope Eddie gets another chance to "learn" from her ;) Thank you for sharing Rachel!

An Act Of Kindness

Eddie (BTVS) x Fat!F!Vampire!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k

Summary: "More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

Contents: fatphobia. descriptions of throwing up. horny thots. mouth-to-mouth blood transfer kiss. Max being a dick. Sweet baby angel vampire Eddie.

A/N: I really had a fun time playing with the idea of Max being Eddie's selfish douchebag maker. I'm also trying to write a more explicitly fat reader, and a confident one at that.

Thank you to @reaperofmen for beta reading.

Tagging those who expressed an interest: @prolix-yuy @oonajaeadira

The man is a little too intoxicated for your tastes, but you've put off feeding for too long this time. He followed you out here without complaint, just strolling after you with a sleazy grin on his face. It takes effort to keep up the coy act; the arrogance and stupidity of men hasn't changed in centuries. 

He only chuckles when you nudge him to the wall and reach to pull the shirt collar away from his neck. His sweaty hands are on your wide hips, pulling you closer and squeezing too hard. 

You almost don't hear it with how focused you are on his pulse, with how the hunger has hollowed you out so the rattling bass of the club music thumps inside your chest in place of a beating heart. The smell however, couldn't be missed: rejected blood on damp pavement. The hot and cool scent sours in your nose and makes you turn away in an attempt to clear it. 

"Don't get nervous on me now, baby. C'mon, you should be thankful I'm paying attention to a girl like you. Not everyone likes 'em big," your prey says and you give serious thought to opening his neck and draining him like the pig he is.

A hint of a command in your voice shuts him up and pins him in place. He's humming to himself, stargazing in the back alley of a club like an idiot while you walk around the nearby dumpsters to find the source of the smell.

It would be bad manners to poach in another's territory. Vampires have a habit of becoming especially violent when feedings go wrong, and by the smell of it, this one had. The days of killing first and asking questions never are sadly long gone. The consequences of a bad temper are swift and deadly when everyone has a camera in their pocket. The newer generation of vampires think your kind are invincible, but they just haven't shed the bravado of youth enough to appreciate just how well thinking before acting can serve them. The last thing you need tonight is to spend precious hours cleaning up after someone else's mistake that could've been prevented with a little caution.

You see a tattered book sticking out of a back pocket first. The pages gleam like a beacon in the dim light. The figure is hunched over, clutching at their middle with one hand and the wall with the other for support. One more spasm of their stomach expels a bit of tar-like blood and there's nothing left to come back up. 

At their feet are the mangled remains of a human; flesh torn in haste and wasted blood already turning dark and dry. It reeks of alcohol.

As they stumble back their heel catches on the corpse and you end your observation to act, putting a hand out to stop their fall backwards onto the dirty pavement.

They whirl around to reveal a face as pale as the pages of their book. Dark eyes stare back at you in fear from under floppy brown hair that's fallen over his forehead. It's a fledgling vampire, as you suspected, his face still transformed from his high emotions. 

"I d-didn't- it's not what--" he tries to say but his stomach gurgles and he has to lurch away again; the heaving of his muscles is undeniable. 

Your lips curl up as fresh bile scents the air, but you reach out to pat his back a little until he calms and finally stops. 

"Thank you." He says, turning back to you. He wipes at his face, leaving streaks of blood on his sleeves and cheeks. Tears wet his lashes as his face slowly smooths back into its human death mask. It's easy to see he's beautiful even in this terrible lighting. A sharp bone structure balanced with round eyes and plump lips. He's sorely out of place in the clubbing scene, dressed as he is in simple clothes, sneakers, and a jacket that hangs on his frame. He's a fallen angel let loose on the devil's playground. 

With all of his sudden movements the book has fallen from his pocket. You pick it up, reading the title with an amused twist of your lips. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. You hold it out to him with a smile wide enough to show your own fangs.

"Where is your maker, darling? Surely they didn't leave you on your own?" You ask.

He flusters so prettily, and you imagine how red his cheeks would've turned when the blood ran fresh in his veins. Some of the tension drops from his broad frame and he carefully takes the book from you with a nod of thanks.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie motions towards the club's backdoor with the book. "Max- my maker- he's still in there. He told me to watch him 'do his thing,' but it's been hours so I came out here to read. A-and then this guy came out and wouldn't leave me alone. I was so hungry-"

He glances down at the corpse and swallows thickly, his shoulders rounding as he hunches in on himself. 

You tsk and turn Eddie away from the mess. He goes willingly, twisting the book in his hands before stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

"A club full of unleashed humanity is no place for a fledgling. Come, you may share my meal. It should be enough to hold you until you can find more suitable food."

Your prey is still looking up, his throat on full display, when you lead Eddie to him. 

You motion to Eddie your permission for him to feed, but he doesn't move.

"He said it's supposed to get easier," he says almost to himself, his gaze glued to the hypnotizing beat of the man's pulse. "But I didn't mean to kill him. I don't know if I can control myself right now."

It's sweet, that thread of earnestness in his voice. You smile at him and take up your previous position, finally biting into your prey's neck. The blood is hot as you suck it into your mouth. It's so very tempting to swallow and gulp, to latch on and drain every drop until the heartbeat slows just enough to keep him alive. But Eddie is shifting behind you, and it's a reminder of his plight, his nervousness and attentiveness at your back. His breathing picks up when you break the seal of your lips, even though he doesn't need to inhale anymore.

The man slumps back into the wall as you leave him and approach Eddie. 

Eddie's eyes are wide, the pupils expanding in reaction to his want. He flinches just a little when you press both of your palms on his shoulders, using a bit of force in your muscles and only a twinkle of amusement in your eyes to put him on his knees. Then you cup his handsome face and kiss him.

He's hesitant and unsure when you press your lips to his and slip your blood-coated tongue into his mouth. A rush of liquid follows gravity's lead, and he grabs you then. His arms surge up under your own, careful not to disturb your hold on him as he fights to get as good a hold on you as he can. Large hands catch on fabric, and he grips the rolls of cool skin on your back.

He holds you to him with the desperate strength of the newly turned. You chuckle into his mouth. His hands may sink into your soft flesh, but it'll take much more than this to break you. 

After the initial rush he sips and sips at your mouth. He sucks blood and saliva from your tongue and whines in the back of his throat when it's gone.

"More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

He growls when you take a step back, his grip shifting to your clothes, and it's a testament to your seamstress' skills that they don't tear. Although, you're starting to think you wouldn't mind this young vampire rending your clothes from your body. 

You swipe at a smear of blood at the corner of his lip, and your thumb is in his mouth a second later, his dark eyes never leaving your face. 

"Do you feel more under control now?" You ask, and the question brings him back to himself.

"Y-yes. Thank you." He says, and his attention goes back to the night's meal. Another glance at you and Eddie is on the man, his fangs sinking into flesh in the same spot that yours had. 

Eddie's moan is a sinful call and there's an answering throb in your fangs and your core. 

At a more leisurely pace you come up behind the men, taking in Eddie's feeding technique. It's sloppy and non-existent. His hunger is only just tempered by the fear of his new existence. 

"Listen closely to his heartbeat. Can you catch its rhythm? Pull on a beat, and then wait. Move the blood in your mouth; taste it, savor it, and be thankful for its nourishment," you instruct him in a soft tone. Food aggression can get nasty with fledglings before they're taught better table manners. 

Eddie's head tilts towards you, and he blinks a few times, his gulping stuttering to a stop as he absorbs your words. It takes a moment, only one heartbeat, and then two, but he finds the rhythm and begins to dine instead of gorging himself. 

"Well done, darling, that's it," you say, and the way he preens under such little praise makes you want to shower him in it. 

Feeding, fucking, and fighting are core tenets of a vampire's life, and you feel them keenly right now. It would be easy to find another meal and then test Eddie's skills in other areas. You run a hand over his head and note how he doesn't growl or snap or perceive your presence as a threat to his meal.

Your hunger is changing, the allure of food fading as you feel the slight movement of his head as he readjusts his angle at the man's neck. If you took his chin in your hand and directed his mouth to your cunt, would he continue feasting? Eddie gulps, forcing his Adam's apple to bob in his throat, and you clench your thighs together to tease yourself.

"Killing isn't necessary when feeding. It's downright rude when you have consenting partners and is frowned upon in most circles these days. Follow the rhythm until it falters and becomes too irregular. That's enough to satisfy you and leave them alive."

The man's heart has only just begun to misfire from the lack of blood when Eddie jerks away, landing on his backside and breathing hard. Again he wipes at his face with his sleeve, but this time the expression on his face is triumphant. 

He looks at you with a grin stretching his ruddy cheeks, and you want nothing more than to kiss him again. To sink down on him and feel the fresh blood rushing through his body. It would be so tempting to drink from him in return, to mark his pretty skin with your teeth. Has he had a vampire lover before? Does he know the pleasure of another's bite? Would he let you be the one to show him?

You rest a hand on the alley wall, and your nails gouge through the cinder block like a cat's claws caught in lace. You allow yourself to indulge in the lusty thoughts before taking control of your urges. 

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Just hungry." You say, your tongue catching on an extended canine. 

"Oh. Oh, no," he frets. "You said you'd share him and I drank it all. I'm so sorry, I can go find someone-" Eddie gets to his feet and is turning away from you, but you take his hand and keep him in place.

"You're a fledgling, darling, and need it more than I do right now. Don't worry, hunger is an old friend." 

You're about to tug him close and offer to spend the rest of the night with him when an unctuous voice calls out from behind you.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. A back alley blowjob, huh? You didn't even have to leave the club for one of those."

Any distracting desire is sufficiently snuffed when you recognize the voice, and you curse your foolishness for it.

Of course Eddie's maker, Eddie's Max, is Max Phillips. A graduate of the feeding ground disguised as a college. It chewed up a selfish boy and spit out a selfish vampire. He cares for nothing but his own gain, and frankly you're surprised that a boy as seemingly sincere as Eddie got tangled up with him. But if they're together, maybe Eddie isn't as innocent as he seems. Max does like to pull the wool over his victim's eyes. 

Eddie quickly steps in front of you. "Max, I-"

"I don't care, kid. You're not dead so that's good enough for me," Max says, not taking his eyes off of you. Up and down, they roam over your thick thighs, wide hips, and ample curves. His perusal makes you realize that Eddie's gaze had never strayed far from your face. 

"Well, if it isn't Bella Lugosi, herself," he says, smirking at his own joke. 

"Bella?" Eddie echoes, looking at you with curiosity. 

"I have been called beautiful in many languages over the centuries by lovers and admirers alike. I do like bella; it suits me well, don't you think?" Ignoring Max in favor of teasing Eddie, you enjoy the way his eyes track the movement of your hand across your belly, his eyes keen on your fingers as they press into the giving flesh of your hip. "Max thinks he's being clever." 

"I was clever enough not to be fat when I was turned. A gym membership won't do shit for you now, sweetheart," Max shoots back, and your lip curls in disgust. It's so disappointing that he is quite handsome. While his looks are striking and sharp, the image is ruined when he opens his mouth and starts spewing shit.

"What small insults from a small mind," you say. "Eddie is your fledgling, then?"

"Sure is. Aren't you, champ? You didn't smell my scent on him?" Max saunters to Eddie's side now, his polished shoes clicking on the pavement. He slings an arm around Eddie and shakes him a little. They're a mismatched pair in every aspect. Max's tailored suit with its coordinated pocket square and cufflinks a stark contrast to Eddie's simple attire. Had Max even bothered to procure more clothes for him, providing for his fledgling, as a maker should? Or did he leave Eddie to his own devices? A miserable look passes over Eddie's face before he tries to cover it up, and you think you know the answer. 

"I thought that was the dumpsters," you say and wrinkle your nose at the strong cologne Max insists on wearing even with his heightened senses. There's a hint of a smirk on Eddie's lips before they twist back into a semblance of a straight line. 

Max opens his mouth to say something, but a scream coming from inside the club stops him. Another one follows, and the pounding music is abruptly stopped. You could feel the vibration of many feet moving on the ground like a disturbed ant hill. 

"Leaving another spoiled hunting ground in your wake I see, Max." You scold him, but he just shrugs. Has he no shame for his actions?

"Just a few girls who wanted a good time," he says and jerks Eddie a step away. "That's our cue to leave, kid. Say goodbye to the big bad vampire lady."

Eddie's eyes fly to you, and you're surprised at how strong the bloom of disappointment is in your chest. He wriggles out of Max's grasp and swallows at the scowl his maker throws him, but his steps are sure as walks back to you.

"Thank you for your help tonight." Eddie says, taking your cold hand and squeezing it. He brushes a kiss on the round apple of your cheek, and his lips are warm and chapped from his recent feeding.

The tang of Max's scent is on him, yes, but now that both men are present you can identify the scents that are unique to Eddie. You inhale and memorize the hint of vanilla, citrus, and cedar. 

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure meeting you, Eddie." 

He smiles, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek. "The pleasure is all mine, bella. I hope I'll see you again."

You untuck a slim card case from your cleavage and take out a calling card. The way Eddie's eyes track your movements, lingering on your chest, makes you stand a little taller and lean a little closer to him when you hold it out to him. 

He takes it, examining the cream cardstock and tracing a finger over the iridescent ink. Your name and a street address in the city are the only things printed on it. 

"If you need help in the future, you may call on me." You tell him and he nods dutifully.

"Oh. My. God. You're gonna make me hurl, and the alcohol hasn't even kicked in yet. Let's go, Edward." Max says, and the command snaps Eddie to attention, forcing him to turn away from you and follow Max out of the alley.

Police sirens are getting louder, and the streetlight is soon overshadowed by flashing red and blue lights. 

You don't spare a glance at the man passed out against the wall or the corpse a little further down as you leave. They can be lumped together with Max's mess, and he can have the blame for them as well. 

Tonight didn't go as planned at all, but you know that teasing your appetites only deepens them, and when you finally sate them it will taste that much more delicious.

[muldxr]

laur’s whumptober 2023 master list

This month, follow along with me as I post a variety of short fics using some of the daily prompts from @whumptober. Fandoms and pairings will vary! You can click 'Keep reading' below to view a list of works, or go directly to my Whumptober series on AO3.

collide —

John Carter/Lucy Knight [ER] Rated T, 1K words DAY 1: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

man down —

Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz [9-1-1] Rated M, 777 words DAY 5: Debris | Pinned Down

pawns —

Fox Mulder & Dana Scully [The X-Files] Rated T, 1K words DAY 7: Alleyway | Radio Silence

rescue me —

Kerry Weaver/Kim Legaspi [ER] Rated M, 3K words DAY 8: Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered

outlast —

Original Character [Survivor] Rated T, 841 words DAY 12: Insomnia

let faith oust fact —

Fox Mulder/Dana Scully [The X-Files] Rated M, 1K words DAY 14: Water Inhalation

sanguis —

Spike/Buffy Summers [BtVS] Rated M, 1K words DAY 17: Touch Aversion

headlights on dark roads —

Danny Concannon/C.J. Cregg [The West Wing] Rated M, 3K words DAY 22: Vehicular Accidents

dearly departed —

Kevin Garvey Jr./Laurie Garvey [The Leftovers] Rated M, 1K words DAY 23: Stalking | "Who's there?"

midnight oil —

Josh Lyman/Donna Moss [The West Wing] Rated T, 2K words DAY 26: Working to Exhaustion

choke —

Alex Law/David Stephens [Shallow Grave] Rated E, 2K words DAY 28: Bloody Knife

paper bag —

Fox Mulder/Dana Scully [The X-Files] Rated T, 1K words DAY 30: Borrowed Clothing

[asirensrage]

WIP Tag Game!

I was tagged by @themaradwrites for this. Thanks! I'm a little afraid lol

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down (Stranger Things. Steve Harrington x OC)

Erudite!Eric - a study in intimacy (Divergent. Eric x oc)

Matt and Billy and OC make 3 (MCU. Matt Murdock x Billy Russo x oc)

Tammy - Alternate POVs

there’s a heaven above you (oc x the lost boys)

Halloween Challenges/Prompts (various)

the weight of all my sins Naruto ideas (various including Kakashi x oc)

Something Missing (something strange) (Gaston x oc)

Divination as a Diversion (Hermione Granger x The Darkling)

Serendipity - Wick fic (John Wick x oc)

cassia and varro (Spartacus: Varro x OC)

Reality is Fictional (who even knows. Various)

Saudade - May you be cursed to never find peace (Tokyo Revengers, OC x various)

Dig My Grave (take my hand). It's just a quirk. (My Hero Academia. Dark fic. Dabi x OC)

An Offering and The Sacrifice (Demon Slayer. Rengoku x OC)

Tokyo Revengers Oneshots

KNY Oneshots

Alpha (original work)

The question is timing (Naruto/KNY crossover. Sakura centric)

JJK - Balance (Jujutsu Kaisen. Various)

plane ideas and sleep deprivation

poetry (original work)

The Good In You (MCU. Steve Rogers x OC)

Prompts (various)

Soulmates (various)

AU Oneshot Ideas (various)

Dark Drabbles

Joyce Summers. Assassin. Conman. Thief. Mother. (BtvS. undecided)

A Slayer in Hawkins (Stranger Things/BtvS crossover. undecided)

Quest for the Ages (Divergent: Eric x OC Quest)

dreaming of falling (Divergent: Eric x oc Quest)

well well look who's at it again (SoA. Jax Teller x oc)

season 2 (SPN. sequel to Crossfire Sam x OC)

season 3 (SPN. third in Crossfire series - Sam x oc)

Ice Ice Baby (Stranger Things. Eddie x oc Emma)

favours (leverage. undecided Eliot x oc or Quinn x oc)

For the Children (Leverage. Eliot x oc)

Between Discord and Rhyme (Teen Wolf. Derek Hale x oc)

Riptide (Spencer Reid x oc)

Skywalker rewrite (Star Wars. various)

Les Tres Geckos (From Dusk til Dawn. Richie x oc)

Coffee Shop AU (original)

Fae Mafia (original)

this isn't even all of them...

tagging: @arrthurpendragon @faithfire @rey-of-luke @mabonetsamhain @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @renhoeku @comatosebunny09 and anyone else who wants to join in/share

[mayalaen]

what i'm working on

Somebody asked me to post titles and summaries of what I'm working on. I don't think they expected THIS much but I always have tons of stuff in my working folder.

In His Image - (ST) the Steddie genderswap fic I'm currently posting.

CONventional Psychopathy Part 4 - (SPN) Dean takes Cas to Gadreel's loft to recover. Also working on Part 5, 6, and 7.

How I Spent My Summer Probation - (ST) Eddie fic with disciplinarian Uncle Wayne and Papa Hopper

OCF - (ST) omegas in a correctional facility for a certain Fishie

Eyeless (named after the Slipknot song) (Fargo/ST) Gator from Fargo in prison with Billy and Eddie fic

Bullseye Studios - (ST) a pr0n studio just outside Hawkins

The Billionaires' Club - (SPN AU) Billionaires are outlawed and once they hit $1b in assets, they're assigned a caretaker who disciplines them and keeps them from being evil.

?Vampires? - (SPN/AtS/BtVS) Dean gets turned by Spike and has his entire life changed in the blink of an eye.

?Interrogation Room? - (ST) shortfic? where Hopper decides Eddie, Billy, and Steve have gotten into too much trouble and need a firm hand so he spanks them in the interrogation room but oops Billy likes it!

?Eddie Has Siblings? - (ST) Eddie has an abusive older brother and sister. Wayne got him away from them, but they've come to Hawkins to visit baby brother.

Caging the Mongoose Timestamp - (SPN) Dean fucks up. Bad. And on purpose for attention. So he gets spanked right in an interrogation room in The Post Office by Dembe and Cooper.

A Faceless Demon - (SPN) KinkDotCom fusion with Van helping Dean let go of some shit.

You Live Here Now - (Fargo/ST) Munch doesn't blind Gator. He drops him off at a ranch in Hawkins, Indiana instead where Hopper, Billy, and a few others help rehabilitate him against his will.

?Eddie & The Basketball Team? - (ST) Eddie gets into a bad situation at a party. Billy's there to pick up the pieces.

??? - (ST/HDM) Future fic with daemons where Billy is a firefighter living with an abusive partner but his daemon thinks that paramedic guy is a much better partner, and she also thinks his daemon is hot.

Billy Has to Ask - (ST) Max is sick of Billy's shit. El scares the shit out of him and from then on he mostly does what Max says. If he fucks up, she makes him go to an adult and ask for a spanking.

??? - (X-Files/SPN) Sam and Dean are undercover but so are Skinner and Mulder. Skinner doesn't like Dean's attitude or Sam's arguments, so he puts them under FBI care. Namely himself.

?Threesome Soulmate AU? - I don't even know what fandom I want this in but it's an idea that's been stuck in my head for years and wants to come out. An aro, an ace, and a demi are all very reluctant soulmates.

Long Distance Call - (SPN) Dean's an omega without an alpha until their newest roommate, Pamela Barnes, moves in.

I'm probably missing a few, but there ya go!

[pinedemon]

I've seen many posts about people missing how common asks used to be so I have been trying to send about an ask a week. Now I send this ask first anytime I follow someone as I really don't want to bother anyone, so I'd love to know if you enjoy receiving asks and if so what kind of asks. Not having energy for asks or being comfortable with them is perfectly okay.

The categories I have in my ask notebook that I file under are in colour. Please feel free to make your response as long as you want or private (the asker cannot directly respond to private responses).

Self, Job/Work: please let me know what you are comfortable with from eh idk just ask it to nothing personal at all.

Baggishield/Tolkien, Dragon Age, Johnlock/Sherlock, ineffable spouses, other fandom: Please let me know what fandoms. I think my main fandoms and ships are Bagginshield/The Hobbit, Sherlock/Johnlock, Dragon Age Inquisition, {Pippin/Faramir Merry/Eowyn}/The Lord of the Rings and I dip my toes in a few that I currently can't remember but ships I don't engage with the canon of at all are: Good Omens but only for Crowley/Azirapheal, Stranger Things but only for Steve/Eddie , The Witcher but only for Geralt/Jaskier, and Ladybug and Cat Noir but only for Adrinette .

OC's, art/drawing, their writing, blog specific only

Story snippets ideas and prompts: Do you like receiving them?

Pets: I'd love to know all about them

Garden and Hobbies: What type of gardening and/or hobbies?

Like being tagged in things: If so what kinds of things?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

hey! i remember being on tumblr in the old days (old-ish, like 2014-2017) and asks were sooo common and so fun to just get to know people. i'm glad you're doing this, and i love to get asks!

about me and my job: i'm a researcher currently employed in a government lab where i work with common viruses like HSV and influenza in order to understand how they affect people with specific genetic diseases. microbiology (and biology in general) is one of my greatest passions and i LOVE geeking out about it. seriously don't get me started lol or please do actually. let's talk about it

fandoms: i'm kind of all over the place here. i love so much media but my biggest fandoms as you can tell from my blog are probably lotr/the hobbit, wwdits, btvs, hunter x hunter, the x files, and merlin. i also LOVE severance; it's such a great show but i'm not sure if there's even a fandom for it?? and i'm no hardcore shipper, but i like bagginshield, samfro, methur, nandermo (frankly any ship on the show), destiel because i'm still living in 2016, aziraphale/crowley, and mulder/scully. tbh there are probably so many more

writing/blog: i do love to write, yet i've never published any fics online before. BUT i've got a few fics in the works which i want to try to post soon -- my ao3 is the same as my tumblr although there's nothing on there yet except my treasured bookmarks lol. i'd like to get prompts or story snippet ideas, but sometimes i can be such a slow writer that i might struggle to respond to them. but who knows! maybe it'll bring out some inspiration in me.

pets/hobbies: i don't have any pets right now, and my hobbies usually involve playing and listening to music, writing, reading, making and collecting jewelry, and cooking.

as for being tagged in things, i'm happy to be tagged in anything! this blog is still very new, and i'm excited to make new mutuals here :)

thanks for the ask!

[allyricas]

 📌 before you follow me, know that i'm a multi-shipper which means:

while I primarily post and make content about steddie, i also enjoy lots of other pairings. ronance, buckingham, hellcheer, stedissy, jargyle, jancy, etc. i also have a weak spot for well written steve/reader and eddie/reader fic. there are very few things i refuse to engage with and i will filter those things out.

i do not get caught up in fandom toxicity because frankly i am too old for that shit. i am not interested in the policing of people's interests. this also goes for discourse over ship dynamics and headcanons. let people enjoy themselves because life's hard enough and everyone is just trying to enjoy themselves ya know?

while to an extent I enjoy things of a dark nature, i do not want to see any pedophilic content. it is my one hard line. please do not follow me if you consider yourself a map or enjoy that content. it might be fictional but it is triggering to me and many other people. if you follow me and i see that you do post or like that stuff, i will block. I also do not have an interest in following people who post stuff about incest. I do my best to filter that content out and check blogs before I follow back.

i only follow back when there is an age in someone's bio. 18+ please, for christ's sake. i am 35 years old. Minors, please protect yourselves and others on the internet and listen to people when they say MDNI.

other things i post about: taylor swift, alot. i am a die hard swiftie. teen wolf, btvs, the x-files, pretty ladies and boys and everyone in between, new girl etc. random things that catch my interest.

i do my best to tag thoroughly so people can filter anything they don't like to see.

anything else: feel free to ask me :)

[hunter-sylvester]

1, 8, 16, 17 & 22? For the choose violence ask game ✨

-cracks knuckles- let's go

(I got so fucking rambly I put in a cut so this doesn't clog everybody's dash lmao)

01. The character everyone gets wrong

It depends. My first thought was Hunter Sylvester. But I do see a lot of takes I agree with. I definitely wouldn't say everyone gets him wrong. I guess it's closer to maybe being about 50/50? But he's the character I've seen people get the most wrong I think. To the point where I wonder what fucking movie they watched cause it's not Metal Lords 2022 I know that much. The "he wouldn't say that" is strong.

The other answer would be Riley Finn (btvs) I guess. Because he is WIDELY hated by the fandom and there are just some scenes that I find really endearing. He has shitty moments, sure. He does. I'm not blind to those, nor do I excuse them. (Ultimatums are never ok!) But it feels like most of the fandom hates EVERYTHING about him and there is just an endearing quality to him for me. It's weird because my favorite Buffy character is Spike and it's not like Riley even makes it into my top 10. I don't love him as a character but I just...kinda like him?? Which is already in pretty stark contrast to most of the fandom I feel lol There is just something quite sweet about that goody two shoes soldier boy who's stressing out because everything he's ever been told is true and correct is crumbling around him. It's particularly the scene where he's helping Xander move that really does it for me I think. (I know you've been watching through Buffy for the first time and I don't think you've gotten to it yet so I'm trying not to be too spoilery) But yeah, I don't even have that strong of a defense of him at all. Again, I just…kinda like him. (disclaimer it's been a WHILE since my last watch-through, do not come for me)

08. Common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Eddie being a top/Dom. I have literally nothing to back that opinion up other than I prefer Bottom!Eddie + Top!Steve. I know I'm kinda the one that's wrong on this one but...I like what I like. And I shall be delusional about it lol

This one's not super common but tiny fandom so eh I don't see where people remotely get the idea that Hunter is into Clay. Nor vice versa to be honest. I don't think they're particularly on each other's radar one way or another. At most I feel like Clay would be like "he's kind of a dick...hope he's okay tho" (like after the party particularly) And I feel like Hunter forgets Clay exists when he's not actively standing in front of him.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I must preface this by saying I have NO ISSUE what so ever with polyamory. It's all good, there should be more rep and the societal bullshit stigma needs to go. That being said... I just don't like poly skullflower, personally. It's not for me. I don't see it. I don't get it.

Also x reader anything I just can't and I don't get why people like it but to each their own.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

Basically any fanart of Metal Lords, preferably Hunter (obviously). But I'll take pretty much anything T-T I would love to have more Metal Lords fics to read too but I'm extremely picky about Hunter's characterization so I don't even know what to say I want more of, we'd be here all day lol

22. Your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

I guess I truly don't think I've seen anybody else acknowledge that Kevin is a Fallout fan. Not necessarily my "favorite part of canon" or anything but I genuinely don't think I've seen anybody talk about it. And I do like it, I think it's really fun. (I was going to say Hunter's anxiety initially but I don't know if that is technically canon?? Or if the jacket thing (just the idea of it being one jacket not the whole scenario lol) can be counted as canon. Or even if Hunter being in love with Kevin can be considered canon. It's how Adrian played Hunter but it wasn't in the script. I would consider that canon but it's not widely ignored so...Fallout.)

Thank you so much for sending these 🤘 (And I'm so sorry it got SO wordy asjdlkalsjl)

From this ask game.

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 11

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: 9.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Not many warnings this chapter, just a lot of emotions running high and a fair bit of lying for the sake of keeping secrets. Summary: Your first day in the past with Max is full of emotional moments and surprises, but nothing more surprising than a revelation shared with Eddie and Allison back in your own time. Notes: Hello and welcome to the Gilded Age!! It's been so exciting to see how many of you gleefully jumped into the deep-end with us on this plot twist and I hope you enjoy! This week's Chateau-sur-Mer room on display is Eddie's room 💛

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

It is Mrs. Taylor who wakes you with a gentle knock on the door the next morning, bearing an arm full of clothing for each of you. Max had been resting with his eyes closed, holding you close while you slept, but his eyes opened immediately at the sound. "Good morning," she greets you both with a nod as she hustles into the room, shutting it behind her. "I brought you some things. To help you to blend in. Mr. Brown has arranged for each of you to be measured and fitted today, if you will be kind enough to go into town just after luncheon. He has sent orders to have wardrobes made that will be fitting for members of his family." It isn't her place to comment on the decision or the certainty with which the word 'family' was used, but she follows her orders to the letter.

Max sits up, shirtless and nods. “Mr. Brown is a gracious host.” He is almost giddy at the prospect of tailored suits, considering it’s so hard to have one made during his time. He’s looking forward to the trip to town. “Would you help my wife dress?” He has no clue how to dress you and he’s not sure if you know either.

"Of course." Mrs. Taylor agrees to the request easily, considering she had already but told to do so, but sets down the clothing on the nearby chaise for a moment while you rise from bed in your odd clothing. "After this morning, Mr. Brown has tasked Miss Annie's maid Renee with seeing to your wife. I hope that is acceptable."

It’s a struggle not to show that he recognizes the name, but he manages. “As long as it does not interfere with her duties to Miss Annie.” He takes the borrowed clothes for him and strides behind the privacy screen. He doesn’t care about you seeing him, but this is a different time and he doesn’t wish to offend Mrs. Taylor.

"Of course not, sir." While this particular morning is outside of her own normal duties, that does not concern her much. The staff of this particular house is far more efficient than any other in the community for their ability to work hard without the need for substantial rest or food. Losing a few minutes to dressing a young lady hardly affects her schedule.

Max dresses quickly, approving of how well his sires' clothes fit him and sets out from around the screen with only his boots left to put on. They are his modern shoes, but no one will notice.

The layers that Mrs. Taylor helps you put on seem endless. Chemise. Corset. Bustle. Petticoats. Corset cover. All these underlayers have to go on before she can even button you into the outer shell of the dress, but once you have the soft green and dark brown dress on in all its complicated glory, it's...oddly comfortable. The corset redistributes the weight of the dress and underlayers so that it isn't too heavy on any part of you, and the layers are all surprisingly thin but so much cotton adds up to a very warm outfit. The chill of the fall weather won't get very far at all, especially not with the wool stockings you have on underneath it all to cushion your feet in the neatly laced leather boots that somehow fit you perfectly. They must be your grandmother's -- that's the only explanation you can come up with, knowing how well some other pieces of her wardrobe fit you in your own time.

“You look….” Max’s eyes are wide, slowly taking in your very prim exterior. He had never expected to have such an attraction to the Victorian style, but he finds that it’s very becoming on you. “Exquisite.” He manages. “It’s as big as a ball gown.”

"Hush." The warmth in your cheeks belies the tone in your voice though, seeing the slow way Max surveys you up and down like some kind of precious gem. "You look very handsome as well." The suit that was brought for him is simple but well-made, and even though you have no idea whether or not it's in fashion, he looks like the romantic lead of a BBC period drama come to life and you are absolutely here for it.

“So you’re allowed to compliment me, but I can’t say how attractive my wife is?” He huffs at you playfully and shakes his head. “That will not be cool at all.”

The term is unfamiliar to Mrs. Taylor but she tactfully does not react at all, simply nodding to you and Max in the doorway. "Breakfast will be served in the dining room in fifteen minutes," she informs you before disappearing again. "You look like Mr. Wickham," you tell Max with a grin, doubtful that he'll get the reference but not really caring. "Dashing and handsome, and a little bit like trouble."

“Mr. Wickham.” He looks at you in utter offense, huffing. “I am no wastrel, I’ll have you know.” He grins back at you to show he’s teasing, and holds out his arm to you. “I’m Darcy, of course.”

"Hmm, maybe you're right." Taking his arm is soothing and grounded, reminding you that no matter how crazy this situation is, he's right here with you. "Alli and Eddie are definitely our Jane and Bingley, after all."

“Yes, they are.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Obvious to everyone but them that they were crazy about each other.”

"I think it's sweet." Their enthusiasm for each other has been endearing, and a pang of missing your friends makes your heart ache but you have no choice other than to shake it off. "And it looks like we'll have some very, very interesting stories for them when we get home."

“Yes we will.” The dining room is straight ahead and he reaches over and pats your hand. “Are you ready to get to know her in ways you never imagined?” Max asks, not wanting to say ‘your mother’ in case she has hearing like a vampire.

"I'm nervous," you admit, knowing that this is an enormously big deal for only you. Max has no emotional stakes in this meeting, but you have them in spades. "What...wh-what if she doesn't like me?"

“There’s no way that would ever happen.” Of that, he is confident. You are amazing, even if you don’t see it.

"You're biased." It's bolstering, though. It makes you feel a little bit like you have a champion on your side to help square your shoulders when they start to round down again. "But I hope you're right."

“I know I’m right, babe.” He tells you cockily, sending you an air kiss. “They are both going to love you.”

"I hope so." A soft nod is what you can manage right now, knowing that beyond that doorway are two women who have been completely lost to you for so much of your life. "I really hope so."

“I’m with you.” Max promises. “After this, we will see how you dance in that dress of yours.”

"With really big swishes." That is a welcome thought, though, and you revel in the idea of dancing with him becoming so normal that it can happen pretty much anywhere. It has you smiling again, and visibly relaxing, and you nod to Max before gently squeezing his arm. "Okay. Let's do this." The dining room table has been laid with fine China. There are five places set and five chairs, while the sideboard is filled with piping hot serving pieces full of all manner of breakfast items. Tea and coffee and a third carafe that you have to assume is blood are all set out on the opposite wall where a footman stands at attention waiting to pour.

Max glances at you, wondering if it’s a reprieve that your mother and grandmother aren’t down yet. He hums as he guides you towards the table, deciding that he would set you on the opposite side from the door so you can see them when they come in. “At least there is coffee and tea, right?”

"And more, it looks like." You nod toward the third carafe. "Good morning." The next figure to sweep into the room is your grandfather, and he sets himself down at the head of the table without hesitation. "I trust you had a restful night?"

“She slept through the night.” Max answers with a polite nod. “Thank you for the clothes as well. It will be better to blend in.”

“Indeed.” He nods, not reacting at all when the footman in the room steps forward to fill first his coffee cup and then his drinking glass with blood. “The appointment to make your wardrobes is essential. We are throwing a ball in just a week’s time and you must be properly attired.”

Max winces when the blood is poured into a wine glass and when the footman comes around the table, he covers the glass. “Please pour it into the coffee cup.” He instructs.

The footman says nothing but nods and adjusts the angle of his pour once he is standing beside Max. “Your room is comfortable?” Yayo asks. He knows that his staff works hard but he also knows that humans are particular.

Max looks over at you for the answer. Knowing that you were the one sleeping, although he was comfortable as he laid with you. “My dear?”

“Very comfortable,” you assure him quickly.

“Good.” He nods and gives a pleased smile. “The gold room has a special fondness for me.”

“Oh?” Whatever stories your grandfather is willing to share are wonderfully welcome. Only for a moment do you find yourself distracted by the appearance of the footman, who pours tea for you when you indicate your preference.

“Cookie and I spent nearly a year exploring the far East.” He tells you with a soft sigh as he leans back in the opulent chair. “When she had fallen in love with that bed, we bought it and had it shipped back.”

“It’s very beautiful.” Even before now you had thought so. Even considered asking to have it moved to your bedroom on the second floor. But you had decided that that would be an immense thing to ask for and instead started dreaming of one day having visitors who might use the room.

“Our daughter was conceived in that bed.” He admits with a small smirk and raised brow as he stares at the two of you. As if expecting you to say that you are also expecting a joyous occasion after one night in that bed.

“Is that…so?” It’s a little more than you need to know, considering that’s your mother he’s talking about, but it’s still worth noting. With everything you’ve been finding out about your family and your magic lately, who knows if it means something or not.

Nodding, he’s amused by your reaction. You are not timid, you dress far too boldly for that, but you are slightly embarrassed by the idea. Further cementing the truth that you are his granddaughter in his mind. “My wife and daughter should be downstairs shortly. They are not exactly morning people.”

“No…” A slip of a memory runs through your mind and you smile. Your mother dragging herself downstairs in her robe with a yawn only to find that your father had already made her coffee for her. “No…that seems to be true no matter what the age.”

“Since she was a babe.” He chuckles softly. “A fortuitous arrangement, considering that I do not sleep. So I could be up late into the night with her when she was fussy. My wife and I did not allow a nurse to care for her.”

“A fairly unusual choice, but I can see why.” Not knowing how much can or cannot be said around the house staff in this time, you just smile and politely add, “She must have been a rare child. And very loved.”

Everyone in this house is aware of what his child is and he nods. “We are free to speak of all issues but yours,” he tells you meaningfully. “The staff are all vampires. Easier than explaining to humans.”

“I see.” Well, that certainly explains how things are the way they are in the future. When your staff never ages or dies, there’s no need to change them. “That certainly does simplify things.”

“Quite.” He agrees. “The coven and social circles provide Cookie with human companionship when she so desires.”

“I know the Newport coven to be full of kind and caring women.” Of course, it might not be entirely true now, you don’t know for sure. But in your time? Those women became your friends as easily as breathing.

“Then the reputation of the coven has endured over the years.” He hums. “There were some turbulent years, but Cookie is not one to deal with much foolishness.”

“It is my understanding that she is very much beloved.” Before you have the chance to say more, you spot two women approaching from the great hall and nearly swallow your tongue. Your mother looks nearly identical to how you remember her, with the biggest difference being just her style. You remember a woman with short hair and a fondness for berry-tone lipstick, who wore dresses only on the most special of occasions. This version of her blends perfectly into the time, with none of her natural features tempered by makeup, her long hair swept up into a complicated style, and the gown on her frame affixed perfectly to make her look as elegant as a flower in soft pink. Memories of your grandmother have been coming back — many as dreams — since the spell that kept them from your mind seemed to break apart. And now that you are in a different time it seems as though the veil over your mind has been lifted entirely. Your abuela looks just as you remember her as well, all dressed up as she liked to be, with a twinkle of mischief in her eye and a perpetual smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. As though she were intending to save it for later.

“John, you didn’t mention we had guests when you came downstairs.” Her tone is apologetic as she sails into the room and to the seat that is at her husband’s elbow. “My apologies for seemingly ignoring your arrival.”

“Not at all, my dear.” He softens measurably when he looks at her, and seems to forget everything else in the room for that moment. “Some family arrived late last night. One of my sons, and his young bride. I insisted they stay on with us.”

“Oh?” Her eyes brighten and she glances back at the two of you with a warm smile. “Then welcome. I must assume that your bride is breathing?” She asks curiously as she tilts her head. The footman brings the coffee over and pours her a cup silently.

“Max’s wife is as you and Annie are,” he informs his own wife and daughter politely. Just because they can speak freely in the house does not mean he will be crude.

“Delightful.” She nods and turns towards you with a smirk on her face. “Perhaps you will be willing to take tea with me this afternoon, then?” She asks. “John has some business to attend to and my daughter is expecting a caller.”

“I would be delighted.” Tea time has become a sacred ritual for you because of Mrs. Taylor and your grandmother. To actually sit down to tea with her is a privilege higher than you can articulate.

“Lovely.” She smiles at you and then looks over at Annie. ��This is my daughter, Annie. She’s normally more engaging than this, but she’s not had her cup of coffee yet.”

“I fully sympathize.” And having seen your mother before coffee on many, many occasions, you expected nothing less. Even so, it’s the seeing her again that has you struggling to hide emotion. “And I’m…I’m very glad to meet you, Annie.”

Her smile is polite and tired. “Forgive me.” She begs. “I become more social as the meal continues but I mean no offense.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sighs. “I believe I should have been an owl.”

“There is a certain magic in seeing sunrise at its beginning instead of its end. The nighttime can have magic in its own right.” At least, that’s what you’ve always thought. Hopefully it doesn’t sound cheesy.

She perks up slightly and nods. “Yes, you are right.” You seem so familiar but she cannot place where she knows you from.

“You seem to be two peas in a pod,” Cookie observes, seemingly delighted by that revelation.

“Do you only have the one child?” Max asks, hoping to draw out more information for you to soak up about your family while you are here. “Or is she the youngest of the group?”

“We only have our darling Anne.” Cookie beams at her daughter as the two of them pick up their plates to serve their own breakfast at the side table and you follow suit. “She is our entire world, I am happy to say.”

There needs to be a conversation about how he can reproduce and other vampires cannot. Max hums. “That is good. We thought to have one, maybe two.”

“Children are an infinite blessing.” While the three mortal women are serving themselves breakfast, the man known as Mr. Brown smiles at the son he barely knows. “An unpredictable and bewildering blessing.”

“I’m sure that we will discover that blessing for ourselves sometime in the near future.” Max wonders if the child you and he will have will be more vampiric or more like you.

“Most families like ours are not so blessed.” Cookie smiles at her husband. “But we have been lucky. And you will be too, I think.”

“Hopefully so.” It’s a truthful answer. He had always assumed that he couldn’t have kids since he was technically dead. Since learning that it was possible, he’s been imagining a little girl that looks just like you, but her favorite parent is him.

“I think my husband has hopes he has not yet shared with me.” It's impossible to deny how much you like calling Max that, and you break out into a smile when you come back to the table with your plate. “Not that I mind, of course.”

“Dolly, you know that I am your willing servant.” Max hums dramatically. “If you wish to be childless and not go through the pain, we will have our friends and my vampiric offspring to surround ourselves with.”

“Not at all.” In fact, it warms you straight to the bone that he has even thought of a family with you. The fleeting thought is far more than you’ve allowed yourself, but now the fantasy seems to jump fully formed from his mind to your heart. “I think it’s very sweet.”

Mad smirks and takes a sip of his blood in the tea cup. “That’s me, my dear.” He teases. “Sweet.”

“You certainly seem to be.” Cookie offers with a polite smile. “May I ask how long you have been married?”

“Recent.” Max laughs, picking up your hand and kissing it. “Very recent. Yesterday as a matter of fact.”

“Truly?” Annie perks up at that, returning with her plate to the seat on your other side. “How romantic!”

“Yes, we were suddenly overcome with the need to marry.” Max sighs softly. “Her parents do not approve of me - I was reluctant to share my true nature with them and they found me odd.”

“So you eloped?” This seems to appeal to Annie even more, and she sighs dreamily at the sheer romance of it all. “What utter devotion.”

“I would not spend eternity without the other half of my soul.” Max nods and leans over to kiss your hand.

"Soulmates." It is your grandmother who sighs this time, and for the moment your extended family seems utterly besotted with the idea as you and Max share a sweet smile. "Well," Cookie's expression is wholeheartedly maternal. "You must stay with us as long as you need to settle yourselves and begin this next chapter of your lives. Mr. Brown may be able to help you find a new home, or lend you the ear of our architect if you choose to build."

“That is a very gracious offer.” Max didn’t expect much else, but it’s honestly a relief. He doesn’t know anything about this time and to be around his sire and your family will help him relax. He knows that they will help protect you. “We humbly accept with our thanks.”

"It is very kind of you." There was a lot more tension in your shoulders than you realized, and when they drop it's out of full relief rather than anything else. Since you have no idea how to get home, there is a remote possibility that you're going to have to buck up and make a life here in...whatever year it is.

“Think nothing of it.” Your grandfather assures you. “There is nothing like having family while you are starting out and you are now family.”

******

You find out quickly that the planning you have been doing for the Samhain Masquerade at home pales in comparison to the levels of planning that Cookie has been doing for her own. There is a small ball to be held in two days time -- something your grandmother refers to rather affectionately as a dinner dance but sounds to you to be an enormous undertaking, and then the full-blown Halloween masquerade in a few weeks time. From the look of the menus she is sifting through in the green salon and the sound of the dresses that are being made as well as the decor and band being hired? It's very clear that you have been planning a dinner dance for Samhain and not a full-blown ball. Maybe you ought to be taking notes, as you sit near your grandmother with a book and she bustles through her papers, but all you can do is watch in awe.

“Lobster bisque with a curried quail or roasted prawns and lamb with mint cream?” She asks, looking up as she decides between the two menus that appeal the most. “I don’t think that I care for the tomato custard with beef shank.”

“Prawns and lamb, I think?” Not ever having eaten quail before, you don’t feel safe recommending it over something else. “Or…that is what I would choose. Although, if you are fond of curry, it is delicious with lamb as well.”

“We will have to have a tasting menu, I believe.” She decides, finding your idea intriguing. “We will have both menus and your curried lamb. Do you have a recipe for Mrs. Taylor? Or just use a curry like with the quail?”

“I actually do have a recipe…” It might be a little too intense for Gilded Age palettes, or it might go over like gangbusters. There’s no way to tell. “I can write it out for you, if you like.”

“If you would not mind.” She asks with a smile, tilting her head imploringly.

"Of course not." The recipe had been your mother's, in fact, and now you can't help but wonder if this is how it made its way into your family in the first place. "It would be my pleasure."

“Delightful.” Cookie beams at you and offers a pen and paper. “We will have Mrs. Taylor make the menus for dinner tonight.”

"I hope very much that you will all like it." Writing with this pen is going to be a nightmare, but you valiantly dip the nib in the ink pot that she offers you and begin to write out the recipe as you remember it from cooking with your mother.

“I am sure that it will become a family favorite.” She predicts, watching you scribble. “You have such unique technique with the pen.” Cookie offers. “Do you often write letters?”

Unique technique. You almost snort at the way your grandmother politely calls out the fact that you can barely write with such a common instrument. "I did not have many people to write to," you tell her by way of neatly avoiding the question. It's not like you can explain texting.

“I see.” Her heart aches for you, finding you a wonderfully charming young woman. Reminding her so much of her own daughter that she feels very protective of you. “Well, if you and Max decide to settle elsewhere, I insist that we exchange letters.”

"I truly doubt that we will, but if it ever does happen, I hope to share many letters between us." That box of letters from her is at the forefront of your mind, and the smile on your face ends up slightly bittersweet before you remember that you're here. Here with her and with your mother.

Cookie interprets the slightly sad smile as a remembrance of your family. Perhaps you still mourn their lack of acceptance of your life. “Don’t worry, my dear.” She reaches out and pats your hand. “Family has a way of coming back to you.”

"More than anyone could possibly know." And that brings your smile back to a much brighter place instantly. "Perhaps my life with my husband will have many more surprises in store."

“Men, especially vampires, are always full of surprises.” Cookie trills and shakes her head fondly. “Even when he drives me to wail, there’s no one I would rather spend my life with than John.” She admits and reaches out to take your hand. “Max has explained that he can lengthen your life, correct? A mortal existence is just but a blink of an eye to a vampire.”

"It has not been the subject of a long conversation yet, but I do know of the possibility." You can't tell her that you know about it because of her, but it doesn't matter either way. The fact is that you'll eventually have to talk to Max about it. "But he cannot tell me if it hurts. Or if it has any other...effects."

“There is no pain involved.” Cookie assures you, happy to share the information she possesses with the wife of another vampire so close to her soulmate. “Truly, you only need to drink but a drop of his blood every day. Just a drop. I know that partaking of their…habits, sounds unsettling, but it is masked wonderfully by a cup of coffee.”

"Really?" It hadn't seemed like it should be that simple, and you tilt your head at her with a small laugh. "I expected it to be far more...dramatic. They are terribly dramatic men, after all."

“Lord, they are.” She joins in the laughter, her own bright and vivacious. “John has a flare for it and it seems he chooses others with that same inclination to change.” She huffs. “As far as effect….you will feel stronger, be stronger. I have such horrid eyesight but since I’ve been partaking in my soulmate’s blood, my eyes are perfect.”

"The strength that it lends them...we get some of it as well?" Truth be told, you hadn't considered that before. But it makes perfect sense now that you hear it out loud.

“Most of the favorable attributes we would share with them.” She explains. “However, we will never have their full strength.” She sighs. “But it does have one ill effect.”

"That seems only fair." A nod of your head asks her to go on, willing to hear whatever unsavory side effects this otherwise magical situation.

“You…” Cookie leans in, cupping her hands around her mouth as if she were telling a secret. “Have horrible smelling body functions.”

It's so unexpected that you sort of freeze, feeling like time has slowed to a surreal whirl, right before you burst out in the most unladylike laughter of your life. "Is that all?" You manage, gasping for some semblance of control between guffaws. "Why--we deal with that on a monthly basis anyway. That hardly seems to make a difference at all!"

“I suppose so.” She straightens and wrinkles her nose. “John sometimes cannot be around me, the smell is too much for his sensitive nose.”

"That seems almost useful," you joke, still laughing harder than you can control. "It gives some time alone, doesn't it?"

She stares at you for a moment and then gives a very un-ladylike snort. “I suppose you are correct, Dolly.” She muses, finding your way of thinking refreshingly bright.

"There is nothing wrong with a little solitude now and then." While you would never ask for it from Max, there are plenty of times when he's off doing other things and you fill your time on your own. That's just how life works.

“Individuals need to be free to pursue things that fulfill them.” She agrees. “My coven accepts John, but they also know he will not be there every time. Society does not know about his…nature.”

“You have been very lucky, I think.” With your grandmother’s hand still holding yours, it’s hard not to be overly emotional. There is something in your chest just aching to burst out but as long as you’re here you won’t be able to let it. Knowing even a small part of her story makes you feel oddly like the Grim Reaper in ways you dearly hate, but can’t ever show. “I hope the rest of the life you choose continues to be happy.”

“Even if it’s not, it will be my journey.” She hums softly, squeezing your hands gently. “Every journey, good and bad, teaches us. Helps us learn for the next life.”

“Maybe you’re right.” It’s such a bittersweet thing to hear from someone who has already begun their next life journey, but you offer her a smile and nod. “That is a soothing way to think of it.”

“Isn’t it?” She smiles softly. “The only problem is; I don’t know when John would meet up with me in the next life.” She admits. “Even though he is immortal, and very much older than I, we are joined in this life and every life we will have.”

“Then perhaps it is you who will find your way back to him?” You suggest, hoping it sounds as soothing to her ear as it feels to you. “And not the other way around? I know…whatever comes next…I will do everything I can to find my way back to Max.”

“Your paths have been destined to be intertwined.” Cookie sighs lovingly, her own eyes soft and dreamy. “Every person should find their soulmate and their happiness. Although the two are not mutually exclusive to one another.”

“I think that’s very important to remember.” And bittersweet, considering you know that it will be forgotten along the way. When your mother falls in love with a man who isn’t her soulmate. Well after that man is taken from her.

“Are you feeling peckish?” She asks after a moment. “I feel as if we should have some tea.”

“Tea is always welcome.” The morning seems to be that much longer when breakfast is served sharply at 7:30am, and with more than an hour left before luncheon, a cup of tea sounds perfect. Down the hall you can hear the soft sound of laughter and conversation from the library, and you can’t help but smile. Your mother’s laugh sounds so much more polite in this day and age. Which makes perfect sense, considering how young women were supposed to act. “Do you suppose Annie and her caller would join us? Or would that be imposing?”

“We can see.” She agrees with a small smirk on her face. “If she can drag herself away from Emmanuel long enough to take tea.”

It’s impossible not to stare when the name crosses your grandmother’s lips, realizing that the man your mother has been talking to in the library for more than a half hour (well over the societally-correct fifteen minutes) is her soulmate. The most you can manage is a weak “Oh?” Out of the need to make some sound.

“It seems as if he will be a regular caller.” She continues on, not noticing your reaction. “He is from a nice family and my husband is impressed with his business dealings.”

“So, it is a…a good match?” You remember Yayo speaking of it with fondness. Saying that your mother had loved her soulmate and that was why he had taken such drastic action. This seems like it is the very beginning of that attachment and your heart aches knowing what your mother has yet to go through.

“Very much so.” She nods. “My daughter is a very powerful witch and will take a strong man to stand by her side.”

“And a good one, I hope.” Never having met Emmanuel, you can’t say. But you’ve seen what strength looks like in good and bad men all your life. “Strength in a bad man can break even the strongest of women. Not help her.”

“You are right.” Cookie nods seriously. “It has happened before and it will happen again, I am sorry to say.”

“A tale as old as time, some would say.” Even if you hate yourself for the reference just a tiny bit, it’s too good to resist.

“Oftentimes the best of tales are older than time, just as some of the worst.” Cookie muses with a wry smile on her face. “I have seen time pass far more than most and I believe that to be true.”

“I will trust your word,” you tell her honestly. Your grandmother has seen far more of the world and far more of humanity than you have and you both know that even at face value. “My life has been sheltered until now, for better or for worse.”

“Then we will have to make sure that under the protective shield of your husband, you live the life you wish.” She promises.

“Then I suppose I ought to decide what it is that I wish for.” Whatever it is, it will have Max and it will have dancing. Anything else that life decides for you is still very much up in the air.

“Agreed.” She smirks slightly and her toe presses the button that is discreetly placed near the table leg by her chair. Allowing her to summon Mrs. Taylor.

Mere seconds later the vampire housekeeper arrives in the doorway of the drawing room with her hands folded and an expectant smile. “Ma’am?”

“Please ask Annie and her guest if they would join Dolly and myself for tea?” She asks, smiling at the housekeeper. “And we have a new recipe for you to try.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The recipe is a surprise, but Mrs. Taylor accepts the paper from Cookie with only a slight look of disbelief at the handwriting before she curtsies lightly and turns the corner toward the library.

“Shall we adjourn to the morning room?” She asks with a small smile. “Give the lovers a moment alone to discuss having to be around someone else?”

“It’s always a rude awakening. To have to remember that there are other people in the world when you are in your own little bubble.” That expression probably doesn’t exist here, but it’s probably self-explanatory. Hopefully.

“You have the most charming colloquialisms I have ever heard.” Cookie hums in delight. “It has been so refreshing having you here. I feel as if we will be lifelong friends.”

The best you can do is sigh your relief that she doesn’t call you out on being odd, and instead embraces it. So you smile warmly. “And perhaps those lives will be much longer than other friends could ever hope for.”

“The advantage of being with a vampire.” She laughs. “One of many, although I’m sure you are finding out the others when you retire to your rooms at night.”

“Oh, um…” You really have to wonder how odd it is that you claim to be married to Max but haven’t breached that particular nighttime activity yet. Thank the gods your abuela can’t feel the heat rolling off you as it rises in your cheeks. “I—of course…”

“Do not worry, we are not as uptight as some families might be about that sort of thing.” She assures you, standing up and offering you her arm. “If you wish to talk to another woman about those things, you just come to me anytime.” She is assured that your mother never spoke to you about a wife’s relations with her husband behind closed doors, and she doesn’t wish for you to be ignorant.

“That is most generous of you.” And it is, really, except she can’t possibly understand how awkward it is to have that offer made by your grandmother.

She can sense you won’t but she just pats your hand. “Well, we will talk about something else, shall we?”

Like a merciful saving grace, your mother appears in the doorway a moment later followed by a tall man with masses of wavy, dark brown hair and crystal blue eyes. It’s pretty clear your mother’s physical type is tall and strong, though. If the similarities between Emmanuel and your father are anything to go by. “You sent for us, Mother?”

Your grandmother tuts playfully. “You act as if you have been summoned to a hearing, rather than tea.” She teases. “I was hoping you and Emmanuel would join Dolly and I for tea?”

“Of course.” Even though she says it with all manner and politeness, you recognize the tone from your mother as placating and bite back a smile. She called it her ‘PTA voice’ for when she had to deal with the other moms at your schools when you were growing up. Apparently it had existed long before her involvement in any PTA. “Mr. Aubert was just saying how lovely today would be for a walk,” Annie tells the room as if it was some momentous declaration. “Perhaps you could spare me this afternoon, Mother? To accompany him?”

“I think an afternoon walk after tea would be a very delightful undertaking.” She grins because she knows that her daughter would like to be alone with her beau. “Perhaps Dolly and I will join you.” She has no intention of joining, simply meddling to meddle.

“Oh!” Annie’s head whips back to look at Emmanuel and reminds herself to smile before looking back at her mother. “Of course. If you would like to join us, you are both very welcome.” It’s clear that wasn’t her hope, but she isn’t going to say no. Saying no might have her chance at a walk revoked altogether.

“Although….” She tilts her head towards you. “Dolly and I still have so much to plan for the ball. Since she has volunteered her help.” She reconsiders. “It would be best if we stayed and continued to work, wouldn’t it?”

“There is considerable planning to do.” You manage to pick up on it almost right away, the way abuela Cookie is messing with her daughter, and you even manage not to crack a smile or laugh. “Perhaps it would be best. Will you be terribly disappointed if we are forced to stay behind?”

If your mother could look any happier, she would be crying tears of joy. Bobbling her head quickly, she’s not even looking over at Emmanuel. “That seems like a proper plan, I would hate for our outing to put you behind. Perhaps another time?”

“Yes. Another time.” Cookie’s face shows no trace of teasing or amusement until her daughter looks away and shoots you a sly smile. “What a pity. But I am sure you are more than capable of being a charming companion for Mr. Aubert.”

“So, tea?” Your mother looks around for the tea set eagerly. As if beginning it will get it over with quickly. She is eager to be alone with Emmanuel.

“Yes, miss.” The footman that appears with the tray and sets it on the low table in the center of the room. “Thank you, Franklin. We can manage for ourselves.” Cookie smiles when she dismisses the footman, but it is definitely a dismissal.

“Emmanuel, allow me to fix you a cup of tea.” Annie flirts, smiling winsomely at her caller and moving over to the tea quickly.

“Mr. Emmanuel Aubert, may I present Mrs. Dolly Phillips. Her husband is family to Mr. Brown and they will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” Ever the gracious hostess, your grandmother makes you sound as grand and important in her introduction as royalty and you nod politely as you have now seen several women in this time period do. Shaking hands seems to be considered something quite intimate so you refrain from offering the gesture like you normally would. Seeing your mother act exactly like a teenager with a crush is sort of sweet, but you don’t comment on it at all for now. Hopefully having the other guest in the room get a bit talkative will take some of the focus off of you. “How long are you in Newport for, Mr. Aubert?”

“Business brought me to Newport for the next three months.” He explains, looking towards Annie again with a smile. “But I think I will be staying longer for personal reasons.”

"That's wonderful to hear." And more than a little heartbreaking, considering Yayo told you what happens to them. But right now your mother is happy. And being able to sit next to her again? See her smile like that? It's everything.

“Quite.” Emmanuel’s gaze at Annie is nothing short of adoring and he’s already sent for the heirloom ring that his grandmother had made him promise would rest on his spouse's finger.

“And…what sort of business are you in? If you don’t mind me asking.” So much curiosity overwhelms you at this other possible direction your mother’s life could have taken. It’s a little maddening but fascinating at the same time.

“Railroads.” Emmanuel answers simply. “My family builds railroad cars. My grandfather is George Pullman.”

“Really?” That’s probably too enthusiastic a reaction to be considered ladylike, but you weren’t expecting such a fascinating answer. “I—that is—how remarkable!”

“Then you have heard of our sleeper cars?” He asks with a proud smile. “Have you traveled in one?”

“I have not been so lucky yet.” Pullman cars being a thing of the past — now that you’re in the past maybe you’ll have a chance. “But I saw a photograph of one printed in a newspaper once.” In the archives at Vanderbilt, there had been loads of old newspapers on microfiche. It had been something of a hobby to go through them for little tidbits, and you ended up finding some fun things there.

“Then we will have to rectify that.” He smiles at you with the excitement of a man being able to show off a favorite toy. “My personal car is at the rail station. Perhaps we can take a small trip to showcase the luxurious ride available?” He clears his throat. “Your husband is welcome to join us, of course. As well as you and your husband, Mrs. Brown.” He adds politely.

“Alas, I think perhaps Mr. Brown and I will be too busy to join you.” Cookie smiles a very knowing — scheming — little grin. “But perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Phillips would be entertained by a train journey? There is time yet before the masquerade, if you choose to go sooner rather than later. A few days away does young people a world of good, without interfering with any of your responsibilities.”

“Would I be able to go?” Annie’s eyes are wide and pleading, wanting to spend as much time as possible with Emmanuel.

The knowing smile on your grandmother’s face is everything, and she nods once in polite agreement to her daughter’s plea. “I think it would be lovely for you and Dolly to make friends,” she hums, pleased with the idea. “As long as your father agrees, you may depart on Sunday as long as you return again before the Astor’s ball next Friday.”

“Mama, thank you!” Rushing forward, she kisses her mother’s cheek happily and nearly buzzes with excitement.

“Mind you behave yourself.” Cookie accepts her daughter’s love with glee, though, before going back to demurely sipping her tea. “Mrs. Phillips shall be my spy while you are away.”

“There will be nothing to report.” Annie promises, nearly giddy and she rushes around to hug you as well. “We will become the best of friends during our tour.”

“Wherever you would like to go.” Hugging your mother again — despite the corsets, despite her not knowing you yet, despite every obstacle — nearly has you in tears and you have to blink them away as fast as lightning so no one notices. “Whatever you would like, Annie.” It doesn’t even matter that using her first name is a foreign concept to bend your mind around. You’re getting to hug your mother again.

She beams and nods, happy that you are willing to be a chaperone so she can spend more time with Emmanuel. “Perhaps tomorrow morning, we can walk through the gardens together?” She asks softly.

“That sounds wonderful.” So wonderful you could damn near cry, but you’ll save that for the privacy of your own room tonight, where you know Max will understand.

“Then we have a date.” She had picked up on some of Max’s unusual phrases at breakfast, liking them immensely. Nodding and letting go of you, she rushes back over to her caller’s side.

“Wisely and slow.” Cookie says, in a moment that would seem rather enigmatic if it didn’t immediately trigger a core memory somewhere in your mind that you hadn’t even given a flicker of recognition to in years. “They stumble that run fast.” Both you and Annie finish the line of Shakespeare in unison, exchanging a look of surprise immediately afterward.

Annie is the first to break, giggling and humming playfully. “Did your mother dole out wisdom from Shakespeare as well?”

“Rather constantly.” And now you know exactly where she got it from. “And took me to the plays, as well.”

“How utterly delightful.” Annie nods. “Mother always makes sure Father secures tickets. Experiencing Shakespeare is a requirement of being a cultured lady.”

“My mother thought so as well.” And how you wish you could just dive across the room and hug her and just never let go. Or just say anything. But you promised Yayo it would be a secret.

“Well, I am glad that you are also well versed.” Your grandmother beams at the two of you. “This is like having two daughters, if only for a while.”

“I’m very glad you think so.” For you, the dream of seeing your family again is very real. It only makes sense that they recognize those traits in you, as well.

She smiles softly and nods, aware that your own parting from your family must be bittersweet for you. “Well, I think that we are going to have a marvelous masquerade this year, don’t you?” She asks you.

“It sounds like it will be wonderful.” If you ever get back to your own time to plan another, the second Samhain Masquerade you plan is going to be a hell of a lot fancier, you know that for damn sure.

“Mother enjoys planning events.” Annie offers with a proud little smirk on her face. “No one would dare turn down an invitation, not even the Astors.”

“I know I can speak for my husband when I say we are both honored to be included.” The morning for Max has been time alone with his sire, and you know that this afternoon when you have to venture into town to get fitted for clothes he’ll be talking your ear off about everything that’s been said.

“You will not regret it. The salmon pâté is probably my most favorite bite of all the buffet.” The other woman practically moans at the prospect.

“Then I dearly look forward to it.” It seems like Mrs. Taylor has always been both cook and housekeeper here and you know her cooking is impeccable. She’s made things for you that you had never imagined trying before and they’ve always been wonderful. “You’re very fortunate to have such a talented chef.”

“Mrs. Taylor has a passion for cuisine that I have never seen before.” Cookie answered honestly. “If she were born a man, she would have been accepted to the top culinary schools.”

“Perhaps she should start a school for women cooks. Share her talent with any who wish to learn and let the pool of talented women become talented, trained women.” Just because you know for a fact that it does not happen between this time and yours, doesn’t mean it never could. And it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t either. Mrs. Taylor would be a wonderful teacher.

“That would be something she would adore.” Mrs. Brown admits. “She cannot have children of her own, so the people she cares for become her children in a way. I know students would be no different.”

“Perhaps one day.” Annie chirps with a smile. She knows that something drastic would have to happen to separate her mother from their housekeeper.

“Perhaps.” Your grandmother hums softly with a smile on her face. “For now, we get to sample her delightful creativity. Why Mrs. Phillips had brought her a new recipe to try.”

“It is nothing. Really.” A bit of bashfulness has you not wanting to have your offering pried into. It all happened by accident anyway.

“Nonsense. Mrs. Taylor was floating around the kitchen with glee.” Even if she hadn’t seen the other woman, she knows how she reacts to new challenges.

“Then I hope the dish turns out to be a popular one. So she may enjoy her triumph.” You offer, and just let the facts settle over you privately and silently, that the reality of time travel is very weird.

“We will find out tonight.” She reminds you with a smile before she takes a bite of her finger sandwich.

******

"I guess they aren't up yet." Allison shrugs her giant cardigan a little closer around her body, overcorrecting for the lack of body heat from Eddie even though her vampire boyfriend is wrapped around her like an ivy vine as they slowly descend the stairs to the dining room for breakfast. There's no sign of you or Max being up or around the house, so the logical conclusion is that you've chosen to sleep in and Max is by your side. "More breakfast for us, then," she looks up at Eddie with a smile. "Or just me? Are you eating with me this morning?"

Eddie smiles down at her, amazed that she is here, that she’s in his arms. He hadn’t even heard Max’s car come home, so apparently he had been completely preoccupied. “I’ll eat with you.” He promises. “I love eating with you.”

"There's an entendre there somewhere," she hums, grinning when he leans down to kiss her halfway down the stairs.

“Didn’t think you’d want Mrs. Taylor to hear what else I love eating.” He teases her softly, grinning against her lips.

“Menace.” She’s giggling though, and pinching Eddie’s side before she starts down the second half of the stairwell. “You’re an absolute menace, Edward Cowper.”

“That’s me.” He never thought he would be classified as a menace, that was thoroughly Max’s area of expertise but Allison brings it out of him. “A menace.”

“Something smells like paradise.” The scent wafting up from the kitchen is rich and fruity and cinnamony at the same time, and Allison groans happily. “I’m getting spoiled being in this house all the time. With the Menace and the best cooking in the whole world.”

“That is nice to hear.” Mrs. Taylor bustles through the door, a distracted frown on her face as she looks at the pair. “Did Max and Dolly indicate that they would be lodging elsewhere last night?” Her question is abrupt, showing none of her usual tact.

“They didn’t come home?” Eddie’s frown matches Mrs. Taylor’s instantly. “I figured Dolly was just still asleep.”

“Max’s car is not in the garage and Renee said the bed was undisturbed.” She tells them, her jaw set in a very unhappy stance.

“They only went to Portsmouth.” The younger vampire’s frown deepens and he pulls out his phone to see if he’s missed a text but there’s nothing there. “There’s no reason they shouldn’t have come home.”

“That is what I am afraid of.” Mrs. Taylor frowns even more, her fangs descending in worry.

“If anything had happened to Dolly, Max would have brought her home instantly,” Allison reasons, though her arm around Eddie’s waist tightens with nerves.

Unless he couldn’t is the unspoken fear that passes between the two vampires in the room. Making the normally calm and collective Eddie ruffle slightly with a shudder.

“If you are wondering after his brother and his soulmate, they won’t be returning for some time.” From the darkened doorway, his voice is quiet but firm

Allison’s eyes widen at the sound of the new voice, unaware that anyone else is there and her head swings around to peer at the voice. “Why?”

“They are traveling.” Is the enigmatic answer, as the master of the house enters the room with one long, sure step.

“Where would they have gone?” Eddie asks, but a look of understanding immediately passes over Mrs. Taylor’s face. “I see.”

“Not far.” His sire assures him, seemingly nonplussed by the concern on Eddie’s face. “But I am afraid it will be some weeks before they return.” His eyes slide over to Mrs. Taylor, who nods. “Allison,” he addresses her without shifting his gaze. “You will take up Dolly’s place in finalizing plans for the ball with the coven. Mrs. Taylor will tend to things in the house. She knows what to do.”

“I- me?” She asks, slightly alarmed by the presence of Cookie’s soulmate. She has not seen the vampire since her funeral.

“Yes, my dear.” He regards her with the warmest expression he’s capable of this morning, knowing what has befallen you last night in those woods. “Cookie taught you how, and I know you have been helping Dolly. You will manage it well and have Mrs. Taylor to keep you moving forward.” His cool hand touches her arm and he nods as if to say it will all be well. “My soulmate regarded you as something of a second granddaughter, you know. I know you will make her proud.”

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Allison says, teary eyed at the beautiful words. “I will make sure that everything is perfect for Dolly and Max’s return.”

“Second granddaughter?” Eddie frowns, not quite understanding and looking to his sire curiously. “I didn’t know Cookie had a first granddaughter.”

The elder vampire smiles enigmatically. “The cat is out of the bag.” He hums and shrugs slightly. “Dolly is our granddaughter.” He reveals as simply as if he was stating the weather outside and not some surprising news.

“I knew something didn’t make sense!” Allison nearly leaps out of her seat but anchors herself by grabbing Eddie’s hand in her eager surprise. “Cookie would never have left this house to some far-flung, unknown relative!”

“You are correct.” The smirk on his face is both slightly sad and proud. “In order to break the spell, my darling Cookie decided to give up her immortal time to allow Dolly to know all of you and myself.” He pauses. “Once she is settled, I will end my existence and find her in my next life.”

The shock of that announcement sucks the air out of the room instantly, leaving even the undead breathless as Eddie’s jaw hangs wide open and Mrs. Taylor grasps the nearest piece of furniture in an uncharacteristic moment of uneasiness. She doesn’t question him, knowing how devoted he had been to his soulmate for hundreds of years, but she clasps her hand over her heart as though it were breaking. “You…” Eddie swallows air he has no need for, the harsh sound echoing in his chest. “You have an entire family here,” he protests, knowing it sounds weak — and maybe it is weak. But there are only so much family he will ever be able to have in his afterlife, and they are all because of his sire.

“I do.” His decision was not made lightly, and Cookie had protested against it, as much as he had protested her decision. “And every one of you is special to me, but she is the other half of my soul.” He reminds Eddie. “The Devil made me walk this earth for over a thousand years before my soulmate was ever born. I cannot walk another thousand without her.” He refuses to, is the real answer, but he is more dramatic than that. “I know that my chosen successor will fill my role fantastically and keep our family together.”

“Then you have already chosen.” Mrs. Taylor nods in understanding and recognition, as solemn as it is.

“All will be revealed when it is time.” He intones seriously. “It will be a joyous occasion amongst my vampiric offspring.”

______

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

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

My Masterlist!

[vinnymauro]

fanfic tag game

tagged by @userbats & @spoookysix, thank you both!! sorry this took me days to complete

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

7, soon to be 8 and more whenever i finish writing and editing.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

240,340 words across posted works.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

stranger things. bc as i told my mom, it's the only show i'm comfortable with bc of how many times i've watched it. i'd probably write ted lasso if i wasn't so painfully usamerican and anti sport.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

stranger i know so well at 150 kudos don’t, dont, don’t throw it away at 66 kudos pretty eyed, pirate smile at 52 kudos i will love you without any strings attached at 31 kudos tied me to you at 24 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i didn't used to but i just started to! i felt ummm weird about it and self-conscious but now i just think it's nice to say thank you<3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i don't think i have one!! this one i'm currently writing might actually lmao.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uhhh i think all of mine are pretty happy tbh. i think the happiest is peps bc i have a headcanon they get married in the front yard of the house so chrissy and barb could be there. also yk halloween graveyard wedding bc nancy caved to eddie's whims.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, not outwardly. but i wouldn't be surprised since i write mostly about rarepairs that people hate<3

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

not really. i'll write smut adjacent things and lead ups but not the actual act, no.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i don't have one currently except for the stranger things x buffy the vampire slayer au that's in my head. i need another btvs rewatch (and to finish this one i'm on but i don't want to watch the last episode ya feel???) and to finish my other current wips. but all i have to say is nancy wheeler as the slayer uhhhh slays?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have not but it'd be cool!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

twice. one of my first ever oc fics i once started co-writing with a friend of mine during a sort of all nighter after watching the crow. it did not last long and i ended up writing some more of it myself. and another time with a friend back when i wrote hp fanfic (groans @ past) but that never finished.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

i don't know if i have one. i have fandom specific ones but an all time favorite is too much to ask!!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

band fic you'll always be famous!!!!! (ronance one shot from it when????)

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think characterization is like the only thing i have going for me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

grammar!!! tense switching for sure.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i usually try to stay away from it bc google translate isn't always to be trusted and then there's like regional specific translations and oof. i doubt myself even with saying like a word or two in a language i vaguely understand.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

i wrote bandfic when i started. mostly about good charlotte and mest. and occasionally early crackfic crossovers where all my favorite band people and skateboarders just uhhhh hung out... it made no sense but i was 11 so. embarrassingly enough the first non-band fic i wrote was harry potter. we all have to start somewhere i guess.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

peps. it'll always be my favorite ever.

no pressure tags: @stargyles, @rejectofsociety, @sweetpeapod & anyone who sees this and would like to do it<3

[missredherring]

Penguin Fic Covers

I have been loving seeing everyone's fic covers. It's really interesting to try and distill a fic into one image.

Thank you to @schnarfer @ghotifishreads @maggiemayhemnj and @arcanefox207 for tagging me!!!

Thank you so much @saradika for sharing this template with us all! I'm loving seeing all the book covers.

Highway Honey Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Wrong Until You Make It Right Joel Miller x Plus Size!F!Reader

Someone Who Calls Me Baby Dieter Bravo x Javi Gutierrez

An Act of Kindness Eddie (BTVS) x Fat!F!Vampire!Reader

Fool's Gold Maxwell Lord x Fat F!Reader

NPT: lbr: I can't keep track of who's done what at any point. If you've seen this trend on your dash and have wanted to do it and have been waiting for a tag, this is it!!! Have some fun and let me seeeeeee! <3

[nomunun]

Thank you for the excellent Steddie x btvs art because I have thought for AGES that Steve is SO Buffy-coded!!! God I gotta rewatch btvs again...

RIGHT??? i���ve been thinking about this for a while now and just started rewatching (you should do it omg) and they’re perfect 😭

been saying this on twitter already but buffy starting off as Popular and Prom Queen and then after moving to sunnydale immediately bonding with the outcasts and getting her own lil weirdo crew??? sounds a lot like former King Steve now babysitter of a bunch of lil rats lmaoooo and i think we all agreed on vampire eddie the moment he got chewed up by bats so that doesnt even need an explantion hehe

[singlethread]

What are your top 5 ships and tv shows?

You don’t understand how hard this question is for me to answer, visual media is like my number one special interest.

Ships : Buck x Eddie 911, Scott x isaac teen wolf, Emma x Hook ouat, bones x booth bones, willow x Tara btvs

Tv shows: 911, psych, criminal minds, warehouse 13, and Veronica mars

[st-eve-barnes]

I posted 5,075 times in 2022

70 posts created (1%)

5,005 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neonhairspray

@infected

@robiinbuckley

@st-eve-barnes

@fiftyscenes

I tagged 3,702 of my posts in 2022

Only 27% of my posts had no tags

#eddie - 361 posts

#joseph - 281 posts

#lol - 139 posts

#steddie - 126 posts

#joe - 117 posts

#daniel bruhl - 107 posts

#stranger things 4 - 103 posts

#rofl - 92 posts

#chris - 83 posts

#btvs - 80 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#it's even funnier when you've just watched an episode of ru paul's drag race and had an actuel conversation about body glitter with hubby

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I just wanted to write a cute short fluffy drabble about Eddie taking care of the reader's bruised hand and then her getting infatuated with his hands because of how soft and caring he is with her. It was supposed to be sweet and innocent but now I'm 6 pages in and he's about to go down on her, this was not the plan!

120 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

#4

Somewhere only we know

(Aemond Targaryen x fem Reader)

Summary: In the real world you and Aemond can't be together. At night, behind the doors of his chambers things are different...

Warnings: 18+ for smut, explicit language/content, fingering, oral (female receiving), orgasm delay, possessive/jealous Aemond, angst, some fluff

Word count: +2500

My mind has been full of this man since I finished the show last week, I just had to write something to get him out of my system (I don't think it's working yet lol)

(All my fics are on AO3)

You heard his footsteps long before he entered the room, his walk so familiar to you, you would recognize it anywhere.

A smile tugged on your lips when you heard him lock the door behind him. 

What happened in these quarters was not for anyone else to see, or to hear. It was solely between you and him.

Neither of you spoke, you didn’t even look at him, kept your eyes down, waited until you felt him move behind you.

His fingers danced across your shoulder blade, his touch featherlight but enough to put goosebumps all over you. He gently moved your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him. His kiss was soft, hungry and wet, teeth grazing the skin on your neck and shoulder, biting you gently only so he could lick the sensitive flesh afterwards. Make it all better. He always made everything better.

Your eyes closed in a heavy sigh as you leaned back against his chest. 

His other hand came to rest on your waist. Firm, solid, keeping you right where he needed you.

His breath was fire on your skin, not giving you a moment of respite. You were burning up already, and he could feel it.

“Lift up your skirt,” his voice rough in your ear.

An order, not a question.

You obliged.

He smirked when he noticed you weren’t wearing anything underneath. His hand snaked around your neck, lips brushing against your cheek.

”Look at you, my filthy girl,” he whispered,”So needy and ready for me, hmm?"

His grip around your neck tightened, not enough to choke you but enough to make sure you wouldn’t move.

His other hand sank down between your legs, teasing the inside of your thigh, touching you everywhere except where you needed him most.

“Please,” you begged.

Growing up you always believed you would never beg a man for anything but all those morals had flown out the window the day you met Aemond Targaryen. You would be on your knees all day and night if he asked.

“Please, I need….”

You didn’t get to finish your plea because his hand moved down lower, leaving no more need for words. All you could do was bite your lip and try to keep quiet while his fingers explored your folds, teasing your entrance and making perfect slow circles on your clit.

You could feel the press of his hard cock against your ass and you tried to move, give him friction but he was quick to stop you.

“Don’t.” A warning in his tone, he wouldn’t ask you twice.”This isn’t about me. Yet.”

Keeping quiet was no longer an option when Aemond’s fingers started giving you exactly what you had craved all night, pushing two digits deep inside your walls while never neglecting your most sensitive spot. Your moans started filling the dark room. You were falling and there was no stopping it now.

“Hold onto me,” he breathed into your ear as you started to succumb to him. 

See the full post

192 notes - Posted December 1, 2022

#3

Something for the pain (a smutty Eddie Munson one shot)

(Eddie Munson x female reader)

Story: After Eddie saves you from a bad date with Jason he takes care of your bruised hand and a lot more.

Word count: 4310

Warning: 18+ for explicit sexual content and language. Oral (female receiving), neck kissing, teasing, dry humping, the whole works. Lots of fluff too. Protective and soft Eddie. Mild angst (mostly Jason being an entitled asshole)

It was Saturday night and Eddie was having a smoke by the lake, taking a break from the heat in his trailer after what had been the hottest day in months. It had finally started to cool down now and he enjoyed being out here, feeling the soft breeze blowing through his long hair and hearing the calming sounds of the water in the background.

But his quiet alone time was interrupted by incoming noises, it sounded like a couple arguing and they were quickly coming closer.

So much for enjoying the peace and quiet.

Eddie moved from the water towards the trees, not feeling like interrupting anything or getting involved in a stupid lover’s quarrel.

When the voices approached Eddie immediately recognized the male voice, arrogant and entitled as always, Jason. Oh, now he definitely wanted to get out of here. But then he recognized the other voice, the girl, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Jason, let’s just go, okay? It’s been a long day and I honestly just wanna get home,” you pleaded, walking out in front of him.

“Oh honey, come on, don’t be such a spoilsport, the night is still young and I don’t intend on ending it just yet. At least not before we…”

You stopped and turned to him, crossing your arms and giving him a look,”Before we what?”

Jason moved closer to you, grinning and looking into your eyes,”Well, I spent all day acting all nice and proper in front of your family, being the perfect date. How about you return that favor?”

“What?!”

“Come on, it’ll be enjoyable for both of us,” he moved even closer. You took a step back but he had his hands on you before you could get away, gripping your wrists in a firm hold,”You know you want to.”

“Let go of me!”

“Give me a chance,” he insisted, pushing his body up against yours and trying to steal a kiss.

“Jason, stop,” you tried with all your might to push him back but he was stronger than you.

“Why are you being like this?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, making it even harder to escape,”You’re not a virgin, are you? Cause I don’t mind, I can teach you…”

“Get your hands off me!” you yelled and struggled to get away from him when a sound coming from between the trees startled you both.

Eddie Munson stepped out of the woods, an amused smile on his face,“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

He had his arms crossed and slowly moved closer, focussing all his attention on Jason, distracting him from what he was doing.

You used the opportunity to finally break free from him and create some distance between you two.

Jason turned his back to you to face Eddie,”Munson, this doesn’t concern you. Get lost, freak.”

“Oh, ouch, words hurt, dude,” Eddie grabbed his heart playfully and looked at you over Jason’s shoulder,”Was I interrupting anything?”

“As a matter of fact…,” Jason started.

“I was’t asking you,” Eddie dismissed him and kept his eyes on you.

Jason was quick to turn around and he gave you an angry look, warning you.

“I’m fine,” you spoke softly, avoiding Eddie’s eyes and thereby missing the almost disappointed look on his face.

See the full post

596 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

#2

MCU has been a big hit or miss with me these past years, I loathed Endgame but I thought Wandavision was truly amazing. I was genuinely disapppointed with Loki but then Spider man No way home blew me away and I even went to see it twice on the big screen.

So I watched Multiverse of madness last night and of course I have some thoughts. Spoilers under the cut

I had such high hopes for this movie, NWH already showed us what they could do with the multiverse and I think many people with me expected Marvel to go all out with that in a movie called MULTIVERSE of MADNESS.

Unfortunately not even half of the potential of the multiverse is being used here, and most of it is already shown in the trailer. For real though, marketing team, what were you thinking putting your biggest cameo in the trailer?? You do not play your best card right off the bat! I hadn't even thought of more big cameos until they showed me Charles f*cking Xavier in the trailer. THAT made me expect more.

And there was more, but it wasn't what I wanted. Can someone please tell Marvel that Captain Peggy Carter isn't as popular as they believe her to be? Whether it's Endgame or Haley and the stuff I read about her I'm not sure but the second I saw her I felt this huge dislike in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wasn't a big fan because the audience stayed rather quiet when she came on. (In fact the audience reacted more when Wanda split her in half with the shield and honestly if I hadn't been team Wanda before that scene alone sure did it and was strangely satisfying! lol)

During NWH our audience cheered and clapped on multiple occasions, this time that only happened once: when sir John Krasinski showed up as Reed Richards. That was the stuff I think we all wanted to see more of.( I'm sure if Xavier hadn't been in the trailer he would have gotten the biggest cheers.)

Unfortunately that one big scene was where that fun ended. Can we also talk about how stupid it is to put all your big cameo's in one and the same scene and then quickly kill them all off? This could have been spread throughout the movie keeping the audience more engaged and excited who else would pop up.

But enough about the cameos.

Wanda Maximoff, I wasn't a fan of the character in the beginning but she has grown on me so much throughout the years and after Wandavision definitely became one of my favorite characters in the entire MCU. But this movie doesn't get her quite right. Don't get me wrong, evil Wanda is amazing to look at and the horror elements especially when she enters the house of other Wanda for the first time were amazing, some of the best parts of the movie for me. But she regressed in this movie, basically her storyline is a copy of what happened in Wandavision and next to being an all powerful witch they kinda reduced her to Mom Wanda and I really didn't like that part. Also where the hell was Vision and wasn't he part of the family she wanted? Because this movie solely talks about her kids. That annoyed me. The ending also, NO, I mean obviously she's not dead but just no, she deserves a lot better, please do better for her, Marvel writers.

Next to mom Wanda Marvel also wanted to show us a little dad Strange, neither were a good thing for me and that may be personal but it once again felt like Marvel putting down those family values it seems to love so much. Which brings me to America Chavez, the new young character that had to be introduced in this movie and I'm sure younger viewers love her but personally the character didn't add anything. It was a young girl who couldn't control her powers and needed help and of course by the end she realizes she had the potential to control it all along, I mean...been there done that? And even then it was lame.

There was not enough Dr Strange in this Dr Strange movie and I don't necessarily mean screen time but I feel like we didn't really get anywhere with his character because all his actions were focussed on either America or Wanda, or Christine. And his love story with Christine to me is just boring, in every universe.

The dialogue in the movie wasn't very good either, not funny and sometimes so standard it literally made me roll my eyes thinking "this is what we're spending time on when we could be watching Loki and Strange have a witty face off?" (just an example, I did not expect Loki in this movie tbh but it could have been great) I feel like in general this was a movie with a lot of missed opportunities and I've seen some fans saying well your expectations were too high and you set yourself up for disappointment but I'm sorry, no. Marvel set those expectations with No way home and all missed cameos aside if the storyline and everything else was strong enough people wouldn't complain so much about that, but it just wasn't. The writing felt lazy, and messy and uninspired and you can feel it pretty early on in the movie and unfortunately it doesn't get better.

Let's end with some positives then, the movie no doubt is entertaining and visually stunning, I mean even with the boring dialogue now and then I was never bored watching it, the possibilities created through the multiverse remain exciting and I really hope future projects will explore this in a better way. My man Wong is a treasure and he was one of the best things in the movie. Also Wanda, even though they did her wrong whenever Elizabeth is on screen she captivates the audience, she's the main star of this movie for me and I will always be team Wanda here.

Overall unfortunately this is another miss for me from Marvel and I can't help but feel a little bitter over what we could have had here, this was the movie to go all out with the multiverse and they failed.

631 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Even after his death the MCU is still so obsessed with Steve's sexuality that they had to explicitly state he was a sexually active straight man and not a, god forbid, virgin. They made a point of mentioning this in a show that has nothing to do with him, several projects after we said goodbye to the character.

And the fact that it was treated as a joke and so many people think this is funny is even more concerning.

Would it be funny if they talked about Nat like that? Or would that make it creepy and invasive? Newsflash, it should feel just as creepy and invasive when we're doing it to a man. In 2022 do we still call mature virgins sad and treat them like a joke? Have we not moved past this??

(Does the MCU even know ace people exist?)

I don't expect much from Marvel but this was so low and so cheap even I'm amazed.

1,033 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[galaxyedging]

For the Kinktober rec I'm going to say @youvebeenlivingfictional masterlist.

And while it's not kinktober related, I'm slipping in my own fic I wrote this month that I'm very excited about and am already working on the next part: An Act of Kindness (Eddie(btvs) x Fat!F!vampire!Reader)

Happy reading! 🩷

Thank you!

I just took a quick glance at @youvebeenlivingfictional masterlist. The sheer variety had me excited. Bruce Wayne and James Bond alongside Pedro characters? Sign me up.

I absolutely love the premise of your fic! I can't wait to read it.