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wardenparker · 10 months ago

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Vampire Waltz - Epilogue

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: 13.9k 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.* Pregnancy. Some healing of generational trauma, reconciliation, regret, past pain. But mostly fluff. Summary: In the time after returning to your original timeline, life seems to have many more surprises left for you and Max. Notes: Editing this chapter has been a good old fashioned cry at my laptop, I will admit that entirely. This little family has given us such a wild ride, and we are so grateful to each one of you for reading along for every twist and turn. Please join us for Hummingbird Has Landed, starting next week!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17

Six months fly by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it the day of the wedding has arrived. Seacliff has been thrown open for the occasion, decorated top to bottom in roses accented with spring wildflowers and with every curtain thrown open to let the sunlight in. At the end of your second trimester, you tend to get tired earlier in the night so you and Max had opted for an afternoon wedding with sort of an high tea theme for the food. The music is all perfect for dancing to, of course, and everyone from the dance studios you now frequent to the girls from the coven to your extended vampiric family has been invited. He’s even made a few friends at the firm where he now works, opting to go into real estate this time around. After spending a hundred years building different houses, he knows a thing or two about it.

Allison and Eddie will be the ones to stand up for you today, of course, as Allison learns each day a little bit more of what it means to be a vampire who has kept her humanity through every step of the change. You and Max had stood up with them at City Hall a few months ago and helped throw their more laid-back wedding reception at Chateau-sur-Mer. Now everything is set up for today’s success as well. All that’s left, really, is for Max’s surprise to arrive.

Max hovers, a habit that he’s developed even more as your stomach has grown. In love with the slow heartbeat of his child in your stomach and the sweet smell of your blood. He craves you more than you know, but he’s refused to drink from you since finding out that you are carrying his child. Not willing to risk anything, even after decades of taking your blood.

“Everything’s fine, love.” He’s always been a doting partner but for the last few months it’s increased exponentially and somehow you’re even more in love with him for it. “We’ve had weddings before. Everything will be just fine.”

“I know.” He does know that, but for some reason, this is the one that is making him nervous. “I’m excited.” He admits quietly. “This one is us. Our original timeline.” He pushes away the pang of sadness that seems to be creeping up every time the baby moves, or he thinks about being a father. The loss of his family is more poignant in this time because there’s no good reason they are not here.

“That’s why this one is exactly what we wanted. Good music, good food, not too fancy but not too casual.” You reach out and squeeze his hand, rubbing gently along his arm. “It’s the Goldilocks of weddings.”

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, shaking away his disappointment that parents who don’t care about him aren’t sitting on the groom’s side and focuses on you. “You should sit before the ceremony.” After so many years together and so many weddings, it seems ridiculous to observe the ‘no seeing the bride before the ceremony’ tradition. “The baby was really active last night; I know your sleep wasn’t the best.”

“The baby’s excited.” Over your second trimester you’ve started to get the feeling that your little witch-vampire pup can sense your emotions, and he knows you’re excited for today. “And Tracy brewed me a little potion for today. Energy without caffeine so I won’t get too tired and I can enjoy the day.”

He eyes you, but he doesn’t say anything. Always wary about portions because he’s paranoid, not because he doesn’t trust the witches that make up your very supportive coven. “Do you want a little massage before we start?” He offers, knowing how much you enjoy the back and foot massages he’s gotten pretty good at.

“It’s perfectly safe,” you assure him, but you’re already sitting back in your favourite chair with bare feet ready for rubbing. This is not going to be a day for silk stockings or anything delicate like that. “It’s one of Lina’s recipes. Tracy is having fun going through her grimoire.”

Max chuckles at how quickly you move when you are offered a massage. It’s cute how much you enjoy being pampered and he loves to remind you that you are the absolute love of his life. “Honestly? I trust them. I’m just worrying to worry.” He tells you as he sits down on the little foot stool. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are today?”

"Hmmm, only once." Max starts in on your swollen, achy feet right away and you hum happily, sinking back into your chair and letting your hands cradle the large bump that threatens to take over your entire torso. Max Phillips makes big babies, apparently. "The grey suit is one of my favourites, by the way," you hum, referencing the three-piece heather grey suit he chose for today with dark red accents that match your bouquet of roses and Allison's red bridesmaid dress. "You look like a dream."

“Not nearly as dreamy as my pregnant, gorgeous, glowing wife-to-be.” He teases, winking at you. Since the beginning of the week, he’s called you his fiancée or wife-to-be. The new ring on your finger would never replace the original that has so much meaning for the both of you, but he has always given you new rings for every wedding. “But I have to try to look my best when I will be by your side.”

"I hope you don't mind." Holding up your other hand, you show him the original engagement ring he gave you in 1885 sitting on your finger, like a family heirloom accenting the beautiful sapphire ring he chose for you in this timeline. Your something blue, he had told you with a grin. "I felt like this time was the time to wear both."

“Whatever you want.” He promises with a grin. “Eventually we will have enough rings you can wear a different one every day.”

"I'll have a very full jewelry box for our son to pick from when he eventually proposes to his soulmate." Finding out you're carrying a little boy had had both of you crying in the doctor's office, overwhelmed and emotional about the next generation of your family to come.

“Very true.” He presses his thumb to the arch of your foot and he grins when you groan.

"I'm so glad I decided not to wear heels today," you huff, laughing slightly as your head falls back on your chair.

“Me too.” Max snorts. The sparkly white shoes you have chosen are cute and practical. “Although I still like the barefoot and pregnant wedding idea.” He teases with a wink.

"Maybe next time." That draws a deep laugh from you, and you lean back even more. "We'll have that one in summer, when being barefoot doesn't mean stepping on cold floors."

“Next time.” He agrees, although he doesn’t know if there would be a next time. All that matters is your comfort. “We still have an hour and a half before the ceremony.” He chuckles. “Maybe we’ve become too efficient at getting ready for these things.”

"Probably. Sixth time's the charm, I guess." You both laugh, enjoying the quiet and the comfort of being together upstairs in your bedroom. The Taylors, Renee, and Mr. Finchley were all invited to come today as guests but they had balked at the idea of not helping to put together today's event. As a result you've had twice the staff in getting the house ready today and everything is ready ahead of schedule. "Although..." you glance up at the clock and realize it's almost time. "I did plan a sort of...surprise for you today."

“Sweetheart…” he tilts his head and pouts at you adorably. “I thought we said that we were going to keep it low key?” He huffs. “Now my surprise is just going to be a normal wedding gift exchange.”

"I know what we said, and your wedding present is entirely separate." The photo album isn't technically complete anyway, since it has photographs of your first five wedding days already set in it but has left plenty of room for your sixth. "This is just for you."

“Is it something kinky?” He asks with a wicked grin on his face. “I can get behind that. Unless you want to get behind me???” He jokes.

"Not until this little pup comes out to greet us," you laugh, knowing your maneuverability isn't great these days.

“I don’t know, you were pretty kinky last night.” He reminds you. “Or was that someone else that wanted to ride my cock while I gave her tits all the attention?”

"Oh no, that was the horny pregnant woman you're marrying today." And damn last night was a good night.

“I know, and I love her.” He laughs and looks around. “So tell me about this surprise?”

As if on cue, there is a knock at your bedroom door and your own housekeeper clears her throat gently on the other side. "Mrs. Phillips? It's time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Moreau. We'll be down directly." Thankfully your shoes are nearby, and you flash Max a small smile. "Ready, love?" You ask, knowing that he has no idea what's waiting for him downstairs.

“Sure.” He shoots you a suspicious look but quickly applies himself to putting your shoes on. “You’re lucky you don’t have stinky feet.” He teases and pats your knee when he puts your foot down, both of them now wearing comfortable shoes.

The result of about three months' worth of phone calls is waiting downstairs, and you take Max's hand to walk downstairs together. There's a chance he'll be upset with you. Angry, even. But you've known him for long enough now that you don't think he will be – or at least you hope that he will see the gesture for what it is. A loving attempt at bringing him the happiness that you know he's been missing from his life.

He’s curious when he sees that the formal parlor is where you are guiding him. Wondering what you’ve had delivered and he stops dead when he hears a voice he has not heard for a lifetime. He wouldn’t recognize it for the fact that it was permanently attached to a thousand different childhood memories.

"I reached out about three months ago," you explain, feeling him stop dead beside you in the hall. "I told them that we were getting married and that we're expecting, and honey...they miss you so much."

“They— you called them?” He asked dumbly. “That’s— that’s my parents in there?” He asks, feeling like he’s in a dream even though he’s not dreamed since he’s been changed.

"I'll let them tell you everything." He isn't shouting or refusing to see them, so you're taking his quiet wonder as a very good sign. "But...I obviously left out the whole time travel, magic, and vampirism part of our story. I did tell them we're Wiccan, though. So they wouldn't be confused by the handfasting today."

He nods but he doesn’t say anything. Still process the fact that his parents are beyond those doors. People who had abandoned him when he needed them most. Part of him wants to run away, to refuse to see them, but you are squeezing his hand and looking so hopeful when he finally looks at you.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay.” They’ll be disappointed, and so will you a little, but you’ll all understand. “I just knew that if I asked you about having them over, you would refuse on principle.”

“No.” He chokes out, shaking his head and for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry. “I just can’t believe they came.”

“Well…” When you look up at him again, you offer him the softest, gentlest smile possible. “They wanted to apologize in person.”

“What did you say to them?” He asks, unable to believe the people who had disowned him, told him they never wanted to see him again, want to apologize.

“I actually did very little of the talking.” You nod to the door and squeeze his hand again, ready with a handkerchief if he ends up needing it. “Do you want to go in?”

“Um, sure.” With his free hand, he meticulously straightens his vest and his hair before he moves. He’s nervous and honestly a little afraid his parents want to ruin today for him.

When the door opens there are two people standing by the windows, looking down the lawn where your wedding ceremony will be and out to the sparkling ocean. Jeff and Maria Phillips stand together in a moment of awe before Maria is rushing forward and stops still in front of Max with one arm outstretched. “Max.” Her instinct is to call him honey, but she doesn’t know just how much he would hate that. “You—we tried everything we could think of to find you and we’re—” She chokes up almost instantly, The regret painted on her face as obviously as daylight.

“We’re so sorry, son.” Jeff has come up behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. “We should have taken you at your word when everything happened and we didn’t. That’s—we can’t undo it, Max. But we’ve regretted it every day.”

“Why?” That is the question that plagued him for years. The thing that had broken his heart and confused him. His parents weren’t the warmest people, but he had thought they had loved him enough to believe him. “You told me I was a disgrace to the Phillips name, that you wished I had never been born.” He reminds them. “Why?” His hand lets go of yours and rests on your stomach protectively. “I can never imagine telling my son something so cruel.”

“We received a phone call from the young man who…who accused you.” Usually quite a proud man, Jeff Phillips flounders in explaining himself to his son — a fully grown and obviously proud man in his own respect. “And from the Dean of your college, as well. We were told the proof was irrefutable and we knew you were ambitious, it all just…” he stops, shaking his head and letting it hang in a moment of shame. “Your great-grandfather, my grandfather, had done a lot of very unfortunate, mostly illegal things to get ahead in his lifetime. I tried to raise you as far away from that kind of life as I possibly could, and it—it was a lie that hit too close to home. And I thought I’d failed you. Instead of taking responsibility for that, I lashed out. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for it. But your soulmate reached out to us and said you were getting married, so we wanted to at least tell you that we love you on your wedding day.” The gift they had brought was out on the table in the foyer with a few others that had been mailed — an heirloom for the baby with a long letter of explanation and apology. That way even if Max didn’t want to see them, they could at least leave him with words of love in another way. The Phillips family crib and baby blankets made by Max’s grandmother belonged with him now.

Max swallows harshly, knowing that before you, before his time in the past, he would have sent them away for the pure pleasure of watching them hurt the way they had hurt him. To lash out and make them feel the rejection and heartache he had lived with for years. Except, he had to watch history repeat itself in a sense. Knowing the path that was before a headstrong daughter and equally stubborn parents. Watching the silent heartbreak and pain when their daughter distanced themselves from them. Knowing the further heartache that was awaiting them. He had sworn that he would be better than his parents and if he sends them away, what does that teach his son? His parents only have a small amount of time left, should he deny himself that time out of some childish need for punishment? Over the centuries, Max would like to believe he’s matured.

He frowns, looking at the table that has the gifts on them and then looks back at his parents. “Are you staying?” He asks, unsure if they wanted to stay or if they just wanted to make peace.

“We’d like to,” his mother offers, eyes flickering once over to you and then back to her son. She knows the decision isn’t theirs or yours. “But only if you want us to.”

“What made you look for me? Do you think that I’m telling the truth? Or—” Max has to know, he has to know what changed their minds.

“We tried to look for you just a couple of weeks after everything happened.” Maria takes a small step forward, so deeply hopeful that Max will forgive them. “The school said they couldn’t tell us anything besides the fact that your transcripts had been forwarded to another university, and there wasn’t a Find My Phone or anything like that, that we could use to try to find you.” Her voice wavers, obviously emotional, and she sniffles softly. “We realized that the son we’d raised…you didn’t deserve to be shunned even if you had made a mistake. We’d just been so shocked that we reacted on instinct.” Another small shake of her head comes with a few small tears that Maria quickly wipes away. “We should have believed what you told us over anything else. Over any other fear or story. The more times we talked through it, the more we realized…cheating was never the shortcut you were going to take. You always worked too hard for that. And we’d pushed you away for nothing.”

“I had to go to Romania to find a school that would accept me.” Max tells them, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he wrestles with himself. “You lost the son you knew there.”

Your hand slips gently over his, holding it in yours and wondering if this was a mistake. You know how much Max misses his parents, but some hurts are just too deep. It would be truly unfortunate if this was one of them.

“It’s obvious you’ve become a good man even without us.” His father acknowledges, nodding sadly. He knows he failed his son in so many ways, and he really doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. Maria had fought him in the beginning and brought him around to the truth in time. “But if you’d let us, we’d like to get to know the man you are now.”

“There’s something you need to know before you make that decision.” Max opens his eyes and looks at the older man who is so much like him, even though he has his mother’s ears. Then over to his mother who looks like she is about to break down sobbing. “I’ve wanted you in my life for years, but I won’t let you back in only for you to run away when you find out.”

“Whatever you want to share with us, we want to hear.” It’s a promise, and Jeff Phillips doesn’t take that lightly after all this time.

“Technically….” Max squeezes your hand gently. “Your son, I— died in Romania.” He admits quietly. “I was turned into a vampire.”

The quiet in the room could be cut by a knife, and you hold Max’s hand tightly while his parents process what he’s just said. It’s confusion — deep confusion — more than anything else, but after a seemingly interminable few minutes, Maria nods. “Are you happy?” She asks, aware that her husband must be looking at her like she has three heads right now.

“I am.” Max nods. “I have my soulmate and our child. I’ve done things you would never believe. And now, I am seeing you again.” He gives her a small smile. “After I— was changed, I came back. I saw you from a distance.”

“The world gave you a witch so you would have someone to understand you.” Maria observes, nodding solemnly. You had explained the pertinent parts of being Wiccan to his father over the phone months ago but hadn’t had that conversation directly with his mother so you hadn’t heard her reaction personally. “When did you come to see us, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It’s a term he hasn’t heard from his mother in over ten years in this timeline and it makes him bite his lip. “August 14th, 2013.” He gives a small shrug. “Your birthday.”

It’s heartwarming, and unexpected, to know that he had missed them too. Just because you had said so in your call — it did not mean it ran deeply. But Max and his mother had always shared a mutual fondness for birthdays. “I wish you had come inside,” his mother admits, although she smiles in a sort of lopsided way. “Although…could you have? If we had not invited you? You’ll have to tell us what is real and what is legend.”

It’s curious that his mother automatically believes him, and he wonders if they think this is some kind of test. He’s testing to see they will believe him and chosen the most outrageous thing. “I don’t have to be invited in.” He laughs.

“Do you remember Vera?” His mother asks, seeing skepticism in her son’s eyes before looking back at her husband too. “The woman who lived next door and would babysit for us when Max was little?” To you she explains, “He would get off the school bus and go to our next-door neighbor’s house for a few hours until Jeff or I got out of work. Whichever one of us got home first would go next door and tell him we were home.”

“Yes?” Jeff frowns slightly, wondering why his wife would bring up a neighbor that was long moved away.

“When Max was a baby, and I would go over to her house during the day for a little change of scenery?” She pauses and looks back over at you with a smile. “Maternity leave can make you feel like your mind is melting sometimes. Find a safe place to get out of your own house. Even if it’s just someone else’s house.” The advice to you seems decent enough, and you barely have time to smile in acknowledgment before she’s looking back to her husband and son again. “Vera used to tell me stories from home,” Maria explains. “And…folktales are always founded in a little bit of truth, aren’t they?”

“She was Romanian.” Max remembers suddenly. “She told you about vampires, didn’t she?”

“She did.” Maria nods, but ends up shrugging reluctantly. “I thought she was an eccentric old lady, but I was grateful for the company. Now…I wish I had taken notes.” Stepping forward one more time, Maria takes a chance and reaches out for Max’s free hand. “We already lost you once, sweetheart. If this means we’ll never lose you again? That your soulmate and your son will never lose you? Then it’s a blessing.”

“I just— I didn’t want you to find out and throw me away again.” Max murmurs quietly. “I had planned on honoring your wishes, to never see you again. But— I— I’m glad you’re here.”

"We never should have said those things." Jeff was the one who said most of it, and he's been humbled enough by regret over the last decade to just...accept whatever it is that life puts out in front of him and his family. He may not understand it, but better to be confused and follow his wife's good example than to risk losing everything all over again. "We missed you, son."

Even though he doesn’t need to breathe, Max exhales loudly, trying to keep from crying. The whole in his heart that he’s refused to acknowledge since the day they had disowned him, finally starting to heal. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.”

The hesitation is cut from the room as Max's parents lurch forward to throw their arms around him and hold on to him tightly. As much as he hates to let go of your hand, he does, needing to basically catch his parents as they hug him. Closing his eyes and trying not to bawl like a baby as he inhales the scent of the people he had never imagined being close to again.

Maria is the one who cries, being dainty about it because she doesn't want her makeup to run or to stain her son's immaculate suit, but she can't help herself. It was not so long ago that she thought she would never get to even see Max again, let alone hug him.

The embrace goes on for longer than he had ever imagined until they break apart and Max turns his head towards you to find you crying quietly into a handkerchief. “Dolly, come here, my love.”

"I'm sorry," you murmur, laughing at yourself a little as you dab at your eyes. This is the reason you hadn't done your eye makeup yet. "Pregnancy hormones."

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” As soon as you are close, you are bundled into his arms and he is pressing his lips to yours. “I love you. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

"I'd do anything for you." And as many times as you've said it, the meaning always holds true. You would turn the world upside down for him – and you even have the power to do it after a hundred years spent honing your magic. "I love you so much."

“I love you too.” He promises gently. Kissing you once more before he turns to his parents. “Let me properly introduce you.” He offers. “Even though you’ve spoken on the phone.”

"We want to know everything." Max's father has handed his wife his handkerchief and is obviously stifling his own emotional reaction – and doing a very poor job of it.

Max pulls you closer to his side and his other hand is proudly protective on your stomach. “This is Dolly.” He does mention your real name, but wants them to know that you prefer your nickname. “My soulmate. The most wonderful woman in the world and the woman I will waltz through eternity with.”

Maria moves to embrace you without hesitation, but Jeff’s head tilts in obvious confusion and curiosity. “Waltz?”

Right. He had never really danced when he was with them. It was picked up in Romania. "I started ballroom dancing." He explains. "An elective in Romania. Dolly also ballroom danced competitively. My favorite thing to do is to waltz with this beautiful lady." He admits proudly.

“We choreographed our first dance,” you tell them proudly, as soft as ever at Max’s side. “You’ll see. He’s an exceptional dancer.”

Maria bites her lip, aware of missing so much time with her son because of their foolish mistake and she nods. "He is exceptional." She reaches out for one of his hands and squeezes it gently. "And you seem so happy." That's all that matters to her.

“We are.” If anything, that is the thing you can promise them. That you’re happy and living the very best, most fulfilling life you possibly can be. “Max is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

"And...his being a vampire is what caused you to meet?" Jeff asks, curious to how the two of you met and trying to wrap his head around the whole situation.

“My grandfather was one of Max’s professors in Romania.” This is the part that is going to get careful explanation, as you hadn’t gone into it over the phone. “He is also Max’s sire. That is…the vampire that turned him. My grandfather took Max under his wing, and even brought him to live with my grandmother here in Newport before she died. I met Max when I moved into that house, as well.”

"I see." There's obviously more to the story, but he won't pry. Right now, he is just glad the boy is talking to him. He knows that Max inherited his stubborn streak, and he could have been rightfully turned away with an expletive and he would have deserved it.

“You’ll meet him today, if you stay for the wedding.” There are still a few more months on Yayo’s ticking clock to join his wife and daughter in the afterlife, but he is waiting until your son is born to leave this world. He had smiled when the decision was made, telling you that wanted to bring good news to Cookie and Annie in the next life. “My grandfather is…a little dramatic,” you smile, stifling a laugh. “I’m afraid it’s a family trait.”

Max chuckles. "And since he is a vampire as well, he looks younger than you, Dad." He warns the other man. "However, Dolly's grandfather is the first vampire. The oldest in existence and has walked the earth for thousands of years."

“It’s a bit of a long story.” The expressions on both of his parents’ faces are something like an undergrad trying to work out a complex math problem, and you shake your head while running a soothing hand over your belly. “Can I offer you a tour of the house?” That, at least, is semi normal. Even if your house was built in 1888 and is still a functional Gilded Age mansion.

“It is beautiful.” Maria nods instantly and Jeff shakes his head. “Do you mind if I speak to Max privately?” He asks you before looking at his son. “Would you, son?”

You look to Max for his confirmation, and when he nods and leans over to kiss you, you offer him an encouraging smile. “I’ll show your mother the library first.”

Max nods, his eyes following you out of the room and he wants to follow you, but he is curious to what his father wants to say privately. Only when he can't see you anymore, do his eyes turn towards Jeff and he arches a brow.

“She’s quite a girl.” He says after the door closes, gesturing to where you have escorted his mother from the room with grace and surety.

"Yes she is." Max will always agree with that. His proud little smile on the corner of his mouth shows his happiness at being matched with you. "She's been through a lot and is still the kindest woman I've ever known."

"When she called us the first time, your mother thought she was an angel." Jeff smiles at that, his wife always has been the gentler out of the two of them. Just like with you and Max.

"In a lot of ways, she is." Max nods. "I normally call her Queenie, as another nickname." He tells his father. "And she is amazingly graceful, carrying a half vampiric child."

"And her..." his father clears his throat. "Her grandfather is...also a vampire?" He's not willing to go against a single second of this, his son is too precious to him after all this time, but he wants to at least make sure that he has everything he's being told straight.

"Yes." Max looks at his father. "I would have met her at Vanderbilt. Discovered that we were soulmates there. I actually had a blind date with her the day I was kicked out." He reveals. "But that didn't happen and luckily her grandfather recognized her birthmark on my arm and changed me." He slides his hands into his pockets, a defense against the hurt that is still there but slowly lessening. Ever more so now that his parents want to be in his life. "He arranged for us to have the meeting we should have had nearly fourteen years ago."

"Jesus..." If his wife was in the room, Maria would scold him for taking the Lord's name in vain, but Jeff just shakes his head. "I..." Jeff blows out a breath. "I know saying that I'm sorry will never be enough. But I really...I'll never stop saying it, if that's what it takes for you to believe how much we regret what happened."

"I believe you." Max has become closely acquainted with actions taken in anger and regretted later. He believes that your mother would have eventually broken the magic binding if she had lived. "Dolly and I talked about reaching out, but for a long time, I was so hurt, I wouldn't have come to you for anything." He sighs softly. "My wife doesn't have much family left. Her parents are gone, and I know she wants as much love for our son as possible. It doesn't surprise me that she contacted you."

"She said she lost her parents, and that you shouldn't have to lose yours as well." It's sweet, Jeff thinks, that his son already refers to his soulmate as his wife on the morning of their wedding day, but he doesn't say anything. It seems like your lives are complicated and he doesn't want to judge. On that, he has learned his lesson. "Max, you should...you should know..." He clears his throat again and casts an eye around the room. "I never actually changed my will. By the time I came out of the fog enough to even talk to our lawyer, I realized the mistake I had made. But it was already too late to find you."

Max frowns slightly, wondering why that would matter to him. Why he would be concerned with his father's will, but then it clicks. His father wants to talk to him about some kind of inheritance. He tilts his head curiously. "I see...."

"Obviously you don't...you don't need my help." The house his son lives in now is a literal mansion. It's far bigger and better than anything that he and Maria were able to give Max growing up. But there is a matter of principle and pride in making sure that they leave what they can to their son when they leave this world. "I had a cousin. A distant cousin, I mean. Who died two years ago. And the guy left behind a big plot of land as well as some assets. Combined with what your mother and I had planned to leave you...it's pretty substantial." He shrugs his shoulders a little, hands in his pockets in a posture that mirrors his son's. "Do whatever you like with it. It's yours. Or maybe your boy's, who knows?"

"Dad...I appreciate that." He promises, meaning it. He had long written off the idea of anything from his parents. "More than you know."

"Maye we can all take a trip together sometime?" He's lost so much time with Max that even being called Dad again has him close to tears, but he shakes it off for now. The day is already emotional. "I guess my mother's side of the family had some money, so it's a nice piece of land in upstate New York. Tuxedo Park. 'Pullman House', I think it's called. Can you imagine having enough money that your house has a name?" He chuckles at the idea, not realizing that his son’s current home most definitely has a name, and shaking his head.

Max freezes for a moment, his eyes widening slightly and he has to take a moment. "Pullman House?" He asks, remembering visiting the house, the last time being a very somber affair. "I— are you serious?"

"Yeah." Jeff nods, taking out his phone to pull up the pictures of the house and grounds that the estate lawyer had sent over. "Have you heard of it?"

"I— I didn't know we were related to the Pullman's." He admits, never looking into his family tree when he was back in time with you. He hadn't wanted to. "How?"

"My grandmother was a Pullman." He doesn't quite see why it matters, but Max seems to recognize the family name so he hands over his phone with photographs of the sprawling mansion. "They made train cars, I think? Back after the Civil War. Must have made quite a bit of money at it, to have a house like that, but it's not in the best shape now. We, uh...your mother and I thought, we could invest a little in it now to fix it up and rent the house out while we're alive. And once we're gone it's yours to do whatever you want with."

"I've been there before." Max tells him with a nod, "I mean, in the area. Tuxedo Park. It's gorgeous from what I remember." He lifts a brow and decides that maybe he should put forth an idea of his own. "It could be something we do together?" He offers. "Dolly and I love historical architecture. Obviously." He chuckles as he glances around the room. "We can start the restoration and see what happens?"

Jeff obviously hadn’t expected that kind of enthusiasm, and when he nods he put his hand out to his son to shake. “I’d like the chance to get to know the man my son has become,” he agrees, on the verge of being choked up again. “And I’ll never say no to getting to see my grandson. It sounds pretty perfect.”

Max looks at the offered hand and reaches out to shake it firmly. "That sounds good." He tells him. "But first, I need to make sure that my soulmate officially carries the Phillips last name." He jokes.

“Why don’t we catch up with our soulmates before they start making plans of their own?” His father suggests with a chuckle, knowing that Maria’s sweet disposition means it could very well happen.

"I'm glad you came." Max admits softly, frowning slightly even though he's completely happy. He's frowning so he doesn't cry, but there's a certain mistiness to his eyes.

“I’m glad, too.” On instinct, Jeff tugs gently on Max’s hand and gratefully holds onto his son once more in a strong hug. They’re both emotional, but if there was ever a time for it in their lives — this seems as appropriate a time as any to shed a few tears in each other’s presence. “I love you, Max. I’m sorry it’s not something you heard often when you were growing up.”

"Always thought I had done something wrong." Max confesses. "If I made the team, you'd love me. If I graduated with honors, you'd love me." He flashes an amused, self-deprecating grin. "If I was a ladies’ man, you'd – at least be proud of me." He snorts. "Always wondered why it was never quite enough. If I was just that much of a disappointment. So instead of talking about it, I decided being a cocky shit and show that I didn't really care what people thought of me."

“I pushed you hard because I knew you were going to do something incredible one day.” They’re both teary, standing together in that room, but it’s okay. It’s always been okay to show his son what he feels, he just didn’t know that. “Your Mom, um…she’s had me doing work on myself. I mean, we’ve been doing it together, but it’s mostly for…” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “She comes to therapy with me a lot. Got plenty of shit to work out and I don’t want it to affect you anymore. And I really don’t want it to affect my grandson. So I’m…I’m working on me. I just really hope it helps. Because you were always enough, Bud. And I always loved you. I just didn’t know how to tell you that.”

"I understand." Max nods. "I've done my own bit of therapy." He doesn't mention it was back before therapy was a thing and it had been with his sire. "Dolly has insisted on it, because of her own issues and it's a good thing. To be the best version of ourselves for each other and our son."

“Do you have any names yet?” Motioning to the door, Jeff means to walk and talk if they can, trying to make the most of every second he has with Max. Of course there’s probably things to finalize before the wedding starts, but they at least have time to catch up to their soulmates.

"We were thinking Johnathan, for Dolly's grandfather and my sire." He smiles slightly. "Johnathan Jeffery Phillips." He watches his father, wondering how he would react to the middle name.

It’s instant, the way Jeff tears up all over again, and this time two thick tears escape his eyes before he can stop them. “Really?” He has to ask, wondering if his son had forgiven him long enough ago to have considered naming his son after the father who had made such an enormous mistake.

"We had long talks about it." Many hours spent talking while you laid in his arms and later when he was stroking the rounded stomach that houses his child even now. "If my son couldn't have his grandfather in his life, at least he would carry a piece of him with him." It was how you had phrased it and Max had nearly cried then too.

“Well goddamn.” Gobsmacked, Jeff wipes his hands down his face and then claps Max on the back with a sigh. “I don’t even know what to say. Except thank you.”

There's nothing else to say at the moment, so Max just nods as you and his mother come into view. "There they are." He hums, smiling at the sight of you absently stroking your stomach as you chat with Maria.

“Hey, my love.” In your wedding dress, all ready for the day, you have been telling your mother-in-law a little about the history of the house and showing her some of the older books in the library. Seeing Max’s softened expression though, you reach out to him immediately. “Everything alright?”

“It’s fine.” He loves that you worry about him, it makes him feel loved. “I was telling my dad about the name we’ve picked out for the baby.”

“Ah,” you hum, leaning over the bump between you to kiss him softly. “Hence the tears?”

“A little emotional.” Max admits shamelessly, enjoying the bump of his heart as he presses his lips to yours.

“That’s good.” You tilt your head to kiss his nose as well and wink. “It’s our wedding day after all.”

"You are amazing, you know that?" He asks softly, kissing you again. "I can't believe you did this. Thank you, my love."

“You deserve to be happy.” The gentle reminder comes with a smile, and you squeeze his hand. “And I know you missed them.”

"You know me too well." He smirks. "Almost like you've lived with me forever."

“Hmm.” Humming a little, you end up giggling instead. “Almost like.”

There’s an inside joke there somewhere, making Jeff and Maria smile awkwardly as the two of you share a moment. “Did you tell Mom?” He asks you, wanting to make sure everyone was aware of the name.

“Not yet.” You look back at his parents but shake your head. “I thought you would want to tell them.”

He flashes you a grin, knowing you are aware that he still has a love of attention, but this is truly special. “Our son is going to be named Johnathan Jeffery Phillips.” He tells Maria, rubbing your belly gently.

“Sweetheart.” His mother is nearly in tears all over again, reaching for Max with overwhelming affection just as earnestly as her other hand goes to her husband. “Is it…” her hands are occupied, but her eyes move to you. “Was Johnathan your father’s name?” She asks as gently as she can.

“It’s my grandfather’s,” you tell her, touched that she would think to ask. “We think we’ll call him JJ for short, but we wanted him to have family names.” JJ is also a sort of family name; in a way you can’t really explain. Lina’s youngest son — little JJ Astor — was sort of your spiritual godson after he wanted to start learning his magic as a young man. You mourned him as dearly as the rest of his family did after the Titanic went down, even though you knew it was coming. That didn’t stop you from missing him.

“I— it’s a beautiful name.” Maria assures you. “JJ is a proper little boy’s name and then he can decide if he wants to keep it or go by Johnathan.” She is so touched that Max would include them in the naming of his child, despite the troubles from before. It will be one of the greatest regrets of her life.

“No matter what, he’ll always be loved.” Your hand smooths the underside of your belly as JJ himself makes an appearance in the conversation, kicking happily to show his approval — or at least his enthusiasm.

Max chuckles proudly. “He’s always so active. Giving mom his opinions on everything. He seems to like his name.” He tells his parents.

“I hate to interrupt, sir. Madam.” The petite figure of your housekeeper appears in the open library doorway. Mrs. Moreau has been with you since the house was finished in 1888, a determined and intelligent middle-aged woman-turned-vampire from Louisiana that prided herself on her skills as a caretaker. “But the other guests have begun to arrive. Mr. And Mrs. Perez are asking for you.”

“Of course.” Max nods and looks towards his parents. “I would like you to stay.” He tells them. “Please? We can talk and if you haven’t booked a hotel, you are welcomed to stay here.” He glances at you for confirmation, but he’s well aware that you’ve probably already planned for such an event.

“I already asked Mrs. Moreau to make up a guest room.” Obviously you had been hopeful that this reunion would go well, but you had really asked your housekeeper to make sure a few guest rooms were ready just in case anyone over indulged at the wedding. Safety first.

“Oh, well – are you sure?” The last thing they want to do is intrude on their son on his wedding night, but they also aren’t ready to let him out of their sight for too long as well. They hadn’t booked a hotel in case he refused to see them; the heartbreak would have been too much.

“We insist.” This is the outcome you were hoping for, after all, and you’re glad to see that Max and his parents are going to be able to patch things up. However slowly it happens, the work has begun. And that’s what matters most. “We aren’t leaving for our honeymoon for another week. And we’d like very much if you stayed.” The little train ride down to Washington DC will be welcome, and you had planned to take in museums and eat good food for a week or two before coming home again and making sure you have everything you need for the baby.

Maria bites her lip and looks at Jeff, wanting this more than anything. She’s missed her son, her only baby and now she’s being given another chance. “We accept.” She tells you with a happy grin. “As long as we can help in some small way. However we can.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” You assure her, but for now you link your fingers through Max’s and smile. “We’re going to go finish getting ready. Please have a drink if you’d like and enjoy looking around a little before you take your seats in the garden. Mrs. Moreau will help you get settled.” There’s something to be said for having come into your own as a woman and a hostess in the Gilded Age, and with the help of women like your grandmother, Mrs. Astor, and Mrs. Vanderbilt. It has made you gracious and thoughtful, and very well prepared.

“Thank you again.” Jeff nods, looking at both of you as he compares the boy he had last known and the man and father-to-be that stands in front of him. “We will speak later.”

“We shouldn’t keep Eddie and Allison waiting.” A squeeze of his hand reminds Max to walk with you, and you hurry upstairs quickly to avoid being spotted by your newly arriving guests.

“Any other surprises that I need to be aware of?” Max asks with a smirk as he keeps his hand on your back, just in case.

“I talked my grandfather into cutting his toast in half.” The grin on your face is unrepentant. At the first of your weddings, Yayo’s reception toast was early forty minutes long. “Surprise.”

Laughing, Max shakes his head. “Yeah but now, we might have to have a speech from my father.”

“I’m rather looking forward to it.” At the top of the stairs, you can hear your brother and sister-in-law in your bedroom, humming over flowers and such. “I love you, Max. Forever. And I take that promise very literally.”

“I love you too.” Max stops you and cups your cheek. “You continue to surprise me, and I will never take you for granted one day during our existence.”

******

There are things about returning to Tuxedo Park that make you very nostalgic in a way that you cannot express to anyone besides Max. You came here together for Emmanuel’s funeral, supporting your grieving mother as her friends. It had been his parents’ wish to bury him here on the property, and now a large weeping beech tree oversees a small family plot on one end of the acreage. The distant cousin Max hadn’t known was buried here also, and had stored generations of family heirlooms inside the many rooms of Pullman House.

Going through these rooms is a lot of organizational work, but thankfully you can do quite a bit of it sitting at the dining room table with JJ in his Grow-With-Me chair beside you, kicking at musical keys and playing with the knobs, soft toys, and multicolored rings that the stationary play station has for his little mind to engage with. He seems to like the house well enough – although he did not like the drive here – and is currently staring and babbling happily at the far corner of the room while you look through old staff records and maintenance books kept by the superintendent.

“Hey love.” Max breezes into the room, taking on the role of handyman seriously, complete with walking about the house in flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up and a tool belt around his hips. Not that he was really using it right now, but you seem to enjoy the view.

“Hey Daddy.” You stretch your neck to invite a kiss and he leans over obligingly as your six-month-old gurgles happily a foot away. “Are your parents back from town yet?”

“Just pulled in.” He grins and presses his lips to yours several times. “How’s my favorite girl. And my little biter?”

“He’s got a favorite spot on the wall to babble at and I’m reading through staffing records. Apparently the house got hit hard by Spanish flu and lost a few people.” You bite your lip, almost hating to say his name, but you have to. “Emmanuel’s nieces both died, and a few members of staff.”

Max sighs softly. “It feels like he should walk through the door.” He admits quietly. “Asking if we have time to check a design he had built and give our opinions.”

“Is it weird that I’ve always wished I could introduce him to my father?” The two men your mother had loved definitely had had more in common than not. Which makes sense, of course, in that your mother had a type. “I just know they would have been friends.”

“It’s not strange.” Max shakes his head. “Just like you shouldn’t feel bad for loving Emmanuel like we did. I think they would have loved each other.”

“I don’t feel bad. I mean it took some adjusting to…to realize that I miss him as my friend and he very well could have been my father.” You shrug slightly, reaching out your fingers to adjust one of JJ’s toys in his chair. “Being here just brings it all back. I’m sure if we were in the house I grew up in, I’d be thinking about my Dad instead.”

“Of course you would.” Max nods seriously. “Have you thought about my offer?” He asks softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.” Ever since reuniting with his parents and the birth of his son, Max has been fully family oriented. He’s been endlessly helpful in every aspect of adjusting the way you live to make way for more family, and that included a very generous suggestion a week ago. “I think I’d like it very much, honestly. Bringing Mom and Dad back to Newport seems…it seems right. The family plot at Island Cemetery has plenty of room and it would be nice to not feel so disconnected from them.”

“You would be able to visit her whenever you want.” Max agrees. You’ve visited your parents’ graves a few times, but it’s too far to travel now that JJ is here. “I will have all the arrangements made.”

“Thank you, love.” A half-smile graces your lips, which grows when JJ babbles at the corner again happily. “And when we’re here, we can visit Emmanuel.”

“What is he babbling at?” Max wonders, looking over at his son with a curious pride. “It’s like he’s talking to someone.”

“I don’t know, he’s been at it the whole time I’ve—” But turning your head to actually look at the area where your son is focused makes you almost swallow your tongue. “Oh gods…”

“What?” Max’s fangs descend in a flash and he’s speeding over to JJ to whisk him into his arms. He might be a little overprotective, but this is his son.

"Emmanuel?" The ghostly figure in the corner is unmistakable, his tousled hair and immaculate clothing exactly the way he looked in life, if significantly more transparent and...somewhat more sad.

“What?” This time Max’s eyes are wide, not fearful or protective, but confused. “What do you see?” He demands again, staring at the spot where JJ has been babbling.

"I see Emmanuel," you repeat again, more carefully, seeing the figure of your old friend looking back at you. "That...that is you, isn't it?" The fact that Max can't see him makes you think it must be your and JJ's witch's blood at work, and you stand up from your chair carefully. "Can you see me, too?"

"Oh..." The shadowy memory of Emmanuel sighs quietly. "I can see you. And hear you. It's...I didn't know you could see me," he admits.

“What’s he saying? Is he talking back?” Max asks, looking back and forth between the corner and you.

"He didn't know that we could see him," you explain to Max, tears brimming in your eyes to see your old friend again. "But I—I don't understand." When you look back to the corner, Emmanuel has taken a step forward. "How long have you been here? I had no idea someone who had been a vampire could become a ghost."

Max tilts his head as you seemingly talk to thin air, but Emmanuel has to be there if you say he is. “Since I was destroyed.” He admits quietly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Max. “But you are here and— Annie? She’s your mother?”

“I suppose there’s…a bit to explain.” You glance back at Max where he is holding JJ close to his chest and bouncing your son gently in his arms. “This is when we are originally from. One of my powers is the ability to time travel, and I brought us back to your time by accident. But…yes. Annie was my mother. And the Browns were actually my grandparents.” You smile softly, almost laughing in disbelief. “And this is our son, JJ. Who apparently could see you all day today and simply couldn’t tell me.”

Emmanuel bites his lip as he stares at you. “I— I thought I was doing the right thing.” He tells you, having had decades to reflect on his mistakes.

“So did my grandfather.” Although you nod, regret sticks in your throat as though you were somehow complicit in the decision to sire your mother’s soulmate purely because you didn’t stop it. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Is that what happened?” Emmanuel asks softly, frowning fiercely as he tries to remember those last moments. There was just a fog, a hunger he had never felt before and then seeing Annie’s eyes filled with regret and pain. Realizing she had staked him. “I— I could never hurt her. She is my world.”

“I know.” Magic isn’t merciful enough to let you touch him — hug him — to offer him comfort, but at least you can give your friend some kind of reassurance. “And Mom knew that, too. That it wasn’t you, when it happened.” Maybe that’s how he ended up a ghost, instead of moving on? You can’t be sure. “No one who ever saw you together could ever doubt how much you loved each other.”

“I— oh god.” He closes his eyes, pain etched across his face. “I hurt her. I— I just wanted to live through eternity with her. To give her the world. I would have never…” Regret laces his words, fills his tone and he wishes once again, that he had never changed.

“Emmanuel…” Cutting him off softly, you find yourself reaching out a hand to him even though you know you can’t touch him. It’s just instinct. “It’s—it’s done with. And…even if you had lived on? It’s…Annie died in a car accident when I was eighteen. She was still mortal, Emmanuel. Despite having such a long life. There’s just… there’s nothing that any of us can do sometimes to prevent tragedy. I know that might not be the most comforting thing in the world, but please don’t torture yourself thinking that she’s still walking the earth in pain.”

“She’s— Annie is gone?” He chokes out, the pain of knowing his soulmate no longer exists, blooming. He had thought he couldn’t feel the crushing pain of loss as a ghost after so many years of haunting Pullman House, but apparently he could. “Dolly— I— she’s gone?”

“I’m sorry.” Maybe you should have eased into the news a little, but you had honestly thought it would be comforting to know she wasn’t in pain anymore. “It’s been almost fifteen years now.”

“Why am I still here?” Emmanuel asks, unable to ask the question to anyone else since he has shown up here to haunt the halls.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly. “I’ve…you’re the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

He nods and his eyes slide over to Max and JJ. “Is he—?” He asks, eyes longing as they look at the child. The child that in his mind, should be his grandchild. “Are you happy?”

It almost feels rude to tell him just how happy you really are, but there is such a small chance that knowing your family is happy and healthy might actually help him somehow — and you cannot lie to your friend. Not anymore. You’ve already kept so much from him. “Yes,” you nod, knowing that Max is right behind you with JJ in his arms and that every moment your family has together is not to be taken for granted. “We’re still very happy.”

“Good.” Emmanuel smiles and looks back at the baby again. “Your son?” He asks. “He’s bright. He saw me right away.”

“He’s six months old today.” You can’t help the immensely proud way you beam when talking about your son. JJ is your pride and joy and you absolutely will talk about him from dawn until dusk. “Seeing you is…it’s the first sign of magic he’s shown. And I’m so very glad.”

“Does he...need blood?” He asks curiously.

“Some.” And you’re grateful you had been prepared for that, otherwise it would have been a very rude awakening. “But according to Cookie, Annie stopped needing blood after she stopped growing.”

“And you?” He asks, curious as to what you experienced as a child. “Did you need blood?”

“Not that I remember.” It isn’t impossible that you were given it as a baby and simply don’t remember, but even with your memory as clear as it is you don’t recall any sippy cups of blood in your childhood. “But I do take some of Max’s now. To prolong my life.”

“That is good.” Emmanuel nods. “You deserve a long life. You were always so kind to me. Even if you obviously knew what my fate was.”

“You loved my mother.” It’s as simple as that, to you at least, and again you just desperately wish you could hug him. “And you were a wonderful friend to Max and to me. You deserve as much kindness as every other good person in the world. I’m just…I’m very glad that I could be one of the people you find it in.”

“I am sorry.” Emmanuel murmurs softly. “For all the pain I cause your mother.” He’s had plenty of time to regret his change and now that he knows that he had hurt her, he is even more so.

“I wish it didn’t torture you the way it does.” It’s a sort of vain hope…or least a far-fetched one, but it is honest. “We are all of us only human, after all. Even witches and even vampires. We still make all the same mistakes and have all the same feelings.”

“I just hope that she was happy.” Emmanuel confesses. “After my time with her had ended.”

“In my memories of her, she was very happy.” It would be cruel to harp on the fact that your father was a good man and a good partner for her, and you won’t mention him at all, but you do smile reflexively. “Life when I was growing up was simple, and quiet, and happy. I can promise you that.”

“Good.” He smiles, nodding at the imagery you are producing. “That is all I can ask for.”

“You should know.” Stepping away from the topic of your mother or his regret for a moment is the gentlest thing you can think of in this moment. “Max and I…we’re helping his parents restore this house. They own it now. So we’ll be here, in and out, from now on.”

“Truly?” His eyes light up, delighted to maybe have company at some points during his existence as a ghost. “Would you— perhaps we could talk more? Not always, but some moments when you have time?”

“Of course we can talk more. And as JJ gets older, he’ll be able to talk to you, too.” His joy makes your heart ache, just like the very idea that you might not want to talk to him is absurd. “We’ve missed you, Emmanuel. Very much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He promises with a small, sardonic smirk. “Although it’s amusing that Max cannot see me.”

“We’ll have to talk about him while he’s in the room,” you tease, throwing a grin back at your soulmate. “It will drive him crazy.”

“Don’t you dare talk about me.” Max huffs, frowning fiercely at the idea.

"Love you, babe." A grin over your shoulder tells him you're only teasing.

Max huffs and rolls his eyes. “Keep it up and I’ll start calling you ‘Manny’.” He threatens his old friend, not meaning a word of it.

“You’ll do that anyway,” Emmanuel replies, knowing his friend can’t hear him but enjoying the comfort that you can. You’re the first person to ever see him and actually hear what he says and it’s more comforting than he can possibly say.

“He says you’ll do that anyway,” you pass the message along with a grin.

Max tries to look innocent but fails miserably when he grins. “True.” He snorts and steps closer to the corner with the baby in his arms. “I can’t see you, but I’m glad that you’re— not gone.” He settles for that and shrugs. “I don’t know what to call it, but I’ve missed our billiards games.”

“It’s hard to play billiards without a body,” Emmanuel chuckles. “But maybe your wife will be kind enough to help us play chess.”

“He says I should help you play chess.” Translating between them makes you smile. Something you never expected but it warms your heart. “And I happily agree.”

“We will have to do it.” Max nods and gives a small chuckle. “No cheating though. I know you.”

That makes you snicker, but you hold up both hands in innocence. “I promise I won’t help him cheat,” you vow, wiggling your fingers in his direction. “Now, can I hold our son, please?”

“Sure.” Now that there’s no danger, Max has no problem handing over JJ to you. The boy goes easily, babbling happily and pointing at the corner.

"Sweetheart, I want you to meet somebody." Cooing to your son, you press a kiss to JJ's forehead and carry him a little closer to where Emmanuel is standing, past the table and past the chairs you had been sitting on all day. "This is Uncle Emmanuel." How much of what you're telling him is actually sinking into his curious little mind, you can't be sure. At six months old, he's definitely not piecing together a family tree in his mind. "He lives here, so we're going to be very nice to his house, okay Bud?" Picking up his little hand in yours, you grin when your son giggles approvingly. "Wave hi, Bud! Hi Uncle Emmanuel!"

JJ has learned to wave and he throws his entire body into it. Babbling and gurgling with a giant grin on his face as he damn near wiggles out of your arms.

If Emmanuel could still cry, he would have tears in his eyes. But as it is, the emotion sticking in his throat gives him away. “He is a blessing.” He manages to say, regarding the little boy in your arms.

“Yes.” You will agree to that every time, and never contest it for even a moment. “He absolutely is.”

******

Despite it being over 100 years of you sleeping beside him while he stays awake, Max doesn’t leave the bed. Too content to hold you as your breathing is nice and slow. Unless JJ is fussy and then he leaves you sleeping to handle the baby. He slips out of the bed as you groan and turn over to hug his pillow.

Your dreams have gotten slightly stranger since starting to take Max’s blood — the strangest were during pregnancy, but thank the gods that’s over — but it wouldn’t be uncommon to dream of magic or anthropomorphic anything or even create entire other universes in your mind. That makes this dream, as Max slips out of bed to rock your fussy son in his arms, all the more remarkable for being normal. Just a dream of your grandparents and parents sitting around a table playing cards like nothing had ever happened between them.

Your grandfather is the first to notice you, turning and smiling at you, just like he had your entire childhood when he visited you in your dreams. “Muñeca, you have come.” He stands and waves you over to the group.

“Yayo?” It isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of your grandfather since he left this life, but it feels so much more real. “Am I late?”

He shakes his head and moves to gather you into a hug. “You are just on time. Come. There are others who have waited so long to see you again.”

You can see your family in the room, but at your grandfather’s bidding it’s like a veil lifts and you step further into the dining room at Chateau-sur-Mer to see your parents beaming at you as your abuela starts to deal you into their card game.

“Come sit with us.” Cookie hums in delight. “It has been so long since I have talked to you, my darling.”

“Are you…” Aware of your grandfather’s power, you don’t hesitate to go to the table, but you do look back at him before reaching out to hug your grandmother. “Are you all really here?” You ask, already choked up at the idea of it.

“After death, hard feelings are not nearly as important as family.” Annie admits, reaching out and taking your hand when you sit down. “I have so much to apologize for, sweetheart. So much.”

“You did what you thought was right, Mom.” Being able to see her again — touch her — call her Mom instead of Annie? It’s such a gift. It’s more than you ever dared to ask for, even knowing what is possible in the world. On her other side, though, you fly out of your chair to go to your father. It’s been the longest since you saw him, let alone spoke to him, because talking to the photos on your vanity at home don’t count as much.

“Hey pumpkin.” The fact that you are grown makes no difference as your father folds you into his arms and pulls you onto his lap for a hug like you are still six years old. “I have missed you so much. Been watching over you.”

“I miss you, Dad.” Such easy words to say, even as they shake through you, and you cling to him for a hug. “I miss all of you, but…gods I’m so sorry I didn’t come to see you when I was in the past. I was terrified of changing the timeline.”

“Honey, we understand.” Your father reassures you, kissing your forehead like he would have when comforting you from a bad dream. “I am just glad you got to see your mother. Your grandparents.” He pulls back and smiles at you. “Now you get to see me.”

“I wish you could’ve met Max.” Looking up and casting your eyes around the table, you soften again. “And JJ. Yayo is the only one who got to meet JJ, and you would all love him so much.”

“We’ve met JJ.” Your father admits with a smile. “Dreams, just like now, with you.”

“You can…with JJ?” It shouldn’t surprise you, not after last week’s revelation that your six-month-old can already see ghosts, but you smile in relief. “Good. I’m glad he’ll get to dream of his family.”

“We won’t monopolize his dreams.” Cookie promises. “Just drop in from time to time.”

“How are you still able to visit us?” This question is for Yayo, who is quietly looking through his hand off cards with a small smile. “If you…passed on? How do you still have your powers?”

“We are waiting.” Yayo tells you simply. “For Emmanuel.”

“Then I think you might be waiting for a while,” you tell him, guilt creeping into your voice as you look around the table. “He’s…he didn’t cross over. We’re at Pullman House right now. And he’s still here.”

“He has to forgive himself first.” Annie murmurs, looking sadly over at your father and then at you. “But he will. And then we will all be together.”

"He's heartbroken that he hurt you." It's so important for your mother to know this. To completely wrap her head around it, even if you understand that she probably forgave him long ago. "He barely even remembers when it happened. We've...talked through it. Extensively." Call it Ghost Therapy, but you had been hoping that trying to remember might somehow help him move on.

“Tell him that I— we— are waiting for him.” Annie requests, looking over at her husband, your father, and smiling. “Your father is looking forward to knowing the man that I loved before him. That I still love.”

“I…always thought you would be such good friends if you could meet.” It feels odd to admit it to your father, but it’s honest. It’s how you’ve felt since very early on after meeting Emmanuel.

“I know we would be.” Your father chuckles and looks at Annie lovingly. “She has told me about her soulmate.”

“Did they…tell you about Max, too?” It might be selfish, to wonder if they’ve talked about you and your happiness — but this is your family. Your parents and grandparents. In your heart your hope they’re at least happy for you.

“Absolutely.” He assures you with a proud smile. “I’ve watched how he cares for you, loves you.” He bites his lip. “He’s the kind of man I always hoped you would be with.”

“I wish you could visit him, too.” You admit, smiling softly. “But he doesn’t dream. Or sleep, really.”

“Yes, he’s too busy watching over his family.” Your grandmother hums in approval.

“You made a good choice, Yayo.” Of that, you can assure him. “Eddie and Allison are doing so well.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He smiles the satisfied little smirk of contentment before he picks up Cookie’s hand and kisses the back of it. “They are made for it, so I have cashed in one last favor from the devil.”

“Oh?” To hear that he had any left at all is a surprise, and you sit up at the table.

“Yes.” He hums, arching his brow and letting the moment sit just a touch longer for the dramatic effect. “They will walk the earth for eternity as soulmates.”

“Yayo.” The well of tears behind your eyes is instant, tears spilling over onto your cheeks as you think of how much that will mean to them. “You—they’ll be ecstatic,” you sniffle, wiping away the dripping tears.

“I thought they would like my last gift to them.” He nods, and holds up a finger. “But tell them that they should still treat every day as if they have just discovered each other.”

“I promise I’ll tell them.” Is it possible they don’t know yet? That it hasn’t happened? You’re certain that Allison would have called if she and Eddie had suddenly gained each other’s marks on any random afternoon. “And…” you look to your mother but have to wipe tears away all over again. “I’ll talk to Emmanuel. To tell him it’s time to finally forgive himself. Because you forgave him a long time ago.”

“I wish for him to enjoy this eternity with us.” Annie adds, nodding happily that you understand and there seems to be no hard feelings.

“I’ll tell him,” you promise again. For all the lifetimes that you knew your mother — whether she was your mother or your friend Annie — you have been able to love her through all of them. It’s oddly gratifying that you’ll be able to send her soulmate to her now. So that she can be loved all the more.

“Thank you, love.” Annie beams at you. “I am so grateful that you came back to visit during my youth. That I know you as the woman you are as well as my baby girl.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you while we were there.” It would have been too much. Too complicated and too risky. But at least you had been able to know your mother for many more years.

“Oh sweetheart, I understand.” Your mother shakes her head and gives you a sad smile. “It would have changed things if I had known. And while I wish that I had not made mistakes, I did. I just hope you can forgive me for them.”

“I don’t think there’s a single person at this table who hasn’t tried a little too hard to protect the people they love.” Too much pressure, spellbinding, and accidental time travel all seem to be varying levels of the same misguided leaps into protection. It seems to be a family trait. “I understand why you did it. I’d do anything to protect JJ, too.”

“Just don’t repeat the mistakes we have made.” Yayo cautions you wisely. “Learn from our follies so you can make all new mistakes.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. The idea of all new mistakes being both daunting and very realistic. “I’m sure we will. That’s parenthood, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” All of the adults chuckle, well aware of their own parental mistakes and your father strokes your back gently. “You are a good mother. You will be for all the children to come.”

“I hope it will be several,” you admit with a grin. “I’m really enjoying motherhood.”

“It will be.” Yayo confirms with a knowing smirk. He has his ways of knowing that his family will be happy and healthy for generations to come.

******

The sun rises right into your bedroom window at Pullman House, bringing you out of your dream gently but without question. The baby monitor is gone from the nightstand on your side of the bed and your husband is nowhere in sight, so he must have gotten up with JJ in the night to make sure you could sleep. Sometimes he’s fussy for blood and sometimes for a bottle, but either way Max is able to take care of him.

They’re sitting together, father and son, at the table in the breakfast room when you come downstairs in your favourite old t-shirt and jeans after taking a steaming hot shower. Any chance to actually take a lengthy shower and feel human again is not something to be undervalued as a new mom, you have found.

JJ squeals happily at the sight of you and you sweep into the room to scoop him up out of his seat. “Hey Bud,” you croon, kissing his little forehead before leaning over to kiss Max as well. “Were you good for Daddy this morning?”

“Say ‘of course I was, Mommy’.” Max answers for him. “Nothing short of perfect, my son.” He winks at you playfully. “Takes after his father.”

“Mmhmm.” Even if you smirk skeptically, it’s full of nothing but love. “So that means he wanted blood last night, then?”

“So much that I’ve been thinking of creating a ‘Little Biters’ line of baby products.” He snorts jokingly. “The mascot of the line will be Cutie.”

“Mommy’s little menace,” you tease, placing another kiss on JJ’s head before moving around the kitchen to pour yourself a bowl of cereal. “I…had a dream last night.” Looking back over your shoulder, you shoot Max a meaningful look. “A family dream.”

“Really?” Max straightens up and his brow furrows slightly. He’s curious at the timing, especially since Emmanuel’s appearance. “What was it about?”

“Yayo had some messages to deliver.” Your grandfather’s mastery of the dramatic never ends. “I played cards with my grandparents and my parents and we talked.”

“Bridge?” Max asks, having spent many hours playing with your mother and grandmother back in the day.

“Of course.” The smirk on your face is because you got very good at the game over the decades. To the point where you were almost better than your abuela. “Dad and I switched out. Apparently he never quite mastered it the way you did.”

“Was this….a visit? Or a dream?” He asks seriously, knowing that stranger things are possible. He’s currently feeding one of them.

“It was a visit.” The distinct, you grant him, is important. “Apparently Yayo still has a little pull where it matters. Don’t I think this will be the last one.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head affectionately. “Of course the old bastard does.” He huffs.

“They told me they’re waiting.” The reality of it feels heavy, weighing on your shoulders like Atlas balancing the world. “They haven’t crossed over yet because they don’t want to leave Emmanuel behind.”

“That’s…sweet.” Max admits, his expression soft and yearning. He has been a little put out that he can’t see his old friend, but you have been enjoying talking to him. “Very sweet.”

"You know the old chestnut about ghosts having unfinished business?" With a bowl of cereal now in hand and enough milk to satisfy you, you sit down at the table with Max and set JJ back down in his own seat. "Mom says Emmanuel has to forgive himself so he can move on."

“Yeah?” Max shakes his head. “How are you going to convince him to do that?” He asks. “Although, telling him that Annie is waiting for him is a good start.”

"Hopefully being able to tell him directly from Mom that she has already forgiven him will give him the permission he feels like he needs to forgive himself." It's your best theory, anyway, and the fact that your friend has been so tortured over what happened for more than a century grieves you in a way you didn't know what possible. "Dad wants to meet him. Wants to wait for him, too. It’s...actually incredibly sweet."

“I told you it was.” He huffs at you playfully, reaching out and taking your hand. “Were you happy to see all of them together? Especially your dad? Since you didn’t get more time with him?”

"It was really nice to see Dad." To see him, to hug him, even if it was only in your dream. Dreams in your family have always been a little more intense anyway – but visitations are step above and beyond. "I think..." You glance up at your soulmate with a little grin. "Maybe we name the next little boy after him?"

“Next little boy?” Max perks up, considering you haven’t really talked about having more kids, and you had cursed him blue while in labor with JJ.

"I'm not saying giving birth was my favorite leisure day or anything." You snort at the idea, letting yourself enjoy a bite of your breakfast while you chuckle silently over the very idea. "But Yayo heavily implied a little insight into the timeline, and the fact that JJ will have at least a couple of siblings at some point."

“Can we start making them now?” Max asks, waggling his brows at you suggestively.

Shoving Max's arm playfully at the table, you make a soft if slightly non-committal noise at him and have another bite of your breakfast. You haven't been intimate since JJ was born and that's the longest you've gone in your entire relationship, but the doctor had been adamant that you needed time to heal and Max had agreed to follow medical advice without hesitation. "Let's see what the doc says when we get back to Newport," you tell him, that beaming grin overtaking your face again. "It took a hundred years to get JJ. Who knows how long we'll have to wait for the next?"

“That’s a hell of an age gap.” Max snorts, imagining JJ as a grandfather and becoming a big brother at the same time.

"It would be," you agree, laughing almost to yourself in silent little huffs. "Hopefully it won't take as long next time."

“Whenever you’re ready.” Max insists. He had even suggested wearing condoms when you were ready to have sex again.

"I love you." As many children as you many or may not have, as many different houses as you may live in, and as many decades or centuries as will ever pass between you -- this is the thing that holds it all together. The fuel that keeps your life going is right here at this table. And you can't help but be caught up in it a little when he slides his hand into yours and smiles. "Come on," you urge, pushing your cereal bowl away and nodding toward the belly of the house. "Come dance with me." It wouldn't be the first time he's twirled you around the dance floor at eight in the morning and you're sure it won't be the last, because the two of you never seem to tire of the waltz.

______

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 @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 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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

My Masterlist!

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

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petalruesimblr · 8 months ago

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Hello Simblr community!

I started this simblr blog to share my TS3 builds without really thinking about the numbers of followers I would have but to see it growing slowly fills my heart with joy and motivation.

I just wanted to say a big THANK YOU, to each and every one of you. For the likes, reblogs, downloading my content and especially to my followers! Even though it is a modest group of 26 followers, I truly appreciate it.

As a token of my appreciation, I'm sharing a small gift that will be posted in two parts. This will be my first one and it's a set of small starter homes.

For new visitors, welcome and feel free to browse my Tumblr by checking out the pinned post for easier navigation. To everyone, I would appreciate your continued support through likes, reblogs, downloads and follows which are always welcomed!

Click on 'Keep Reading' below for more information and pictures of the starter homes.

XOXO, petalrue 🌺

The Oakridge

Download Link:

Sim File Share | MTS (for approval)

Description:

Classic charm meets practicality at The Oakridge. With its cozy and quaint layout, this budget-friendly abode is the perfect haven for a small family seeking suburban bliss.

Details:

Price Furnished: 16,422 Price Unfurnished: 12,195 Lot Size: 20x20 Version: 1.42 Store Content: None CC Used: None Packs used: The Sims 3, Ambitions File Type: Package

House Features:

Suitable for three Sims, 2 Bedrooms, 1 Bathroom, Living Room, Kitchen Dining Area, Washer/Laundry Area, Clothes Dryer - Outside, Parking area

The Fairmont

Download Link:

Sim File Share | MTS (for approval)

Description:

This traditional-style abode offers a harmonious blend of comfort and functionality, making it the perfect home for a family of three seeking quintessential suburban living.

Details:

Price Furnished: 16,476 Price Unfurnished: 13,706 Lot Size: 20x20 Version: 1.42 Store Content: None CC Used: None Packs used: The Sims 3, Ambitions, Pets File Type: Package

House Features:

Suitable for three Sims, 2 Bedrooms, 1 Bathroom, Living Room, Kitchen Dining Area, Garage

The Briarwood

Download Link:

Sim File Share | MTS (for approval)

Description:

An abode where warmth and character intertwine. With its cozy interiors and inviting ambiance, this charming home beckons a family of four to embrace the simple joys of suburban living.

Details:

Price Furnished: 16,487 Price Unfurnished: 13,187 Lot Size: 20x20 Version: 1.42 Store Content: None CC Used: None Packs used: The Sims 3, Ambitions, Pets File Type: Package

House Features:

Suitable for four Sims, 2 Bedrooms, 1 Bathroom, Living Room, Kitchen Dining Room

Unfortunately, they will have sparse furnishings due to the limited budget of §16,500 but there is enough space to redecorate once the money starts to come in for the family. All of them are suitable for a single Sim or a couple who want a fresh start in a new town or want to start a family, complete with basic furniture and appliances.

One of the houses contains a small laundry area with just a washer and clothes dryer outside, as well as parking for one car. The second house does have a garage but it lacks the Car-Spot Parking Space due to budget constraints. The third house doesn't have a garage or a laundry room, but it is suitable for four Sims.

I'll be sharing the second small gift with you shortly, likely just a few minutes after this post. Stay tuned!

📣 All my content lots are in the form of package files (.package). Kindly place the .package file into the following folder: Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 3\Library\ .You should find it in your Library bin in the game when you navigate to Edit Town.

#petalruesimblr #the sims 3 #ts3 #lots #residential lot #followers gift #ts3 simblr #sims 3 download #sims 3 lots #sims 3 screenshots #ts3 download #ts3 screenshots #ts3 simmer #sims 3 #ts3 community #the sims 3 residential lot #ts3 residential lot

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notes-of-nari · 12 days ago

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Stray Kids as the friendly ghost

Han Jisung

•you don't even notice that he exists. When he closes the door with a bang you just shrug thinking that it's the wind. Sounds of footsteps in the night? Maybe mice. •One day you find your favorite limited edition harry potter mug shattered on the ground. Suddenly you hear a sound and find him looking at you guiltily. Hurriedly apologizes and even says that he will make your wishes come true if you don't call the ghostbusters? It takes him a good 15 minutes, and a slipper in his direction until he realizes that he didn't introduce himself properly and you might think that he is an intruder. •Hides whenever he sees you until you are fed up and announces that you would indeed bring the ghostbusters if he doesn't immediately stop hiding whenever he sees you. (you actually don't tell him that you don't even know where to find the so called ghostbusters) •Once he becomes more comfortable around you he doesn't stop chattering about different things. • Randomly appears whenever he has the most absurd shower thoughts worthy thoughts. "heyyyyy what do you think would have happened if giraffes were carnivorous?" "Is a dog who is in water a subwoofer?" "What if dinosaurs are actually still roaming about?" •Stares at the cheesecake in your fridge with wide eyes until you just hand him the whole thing. It is only then that he sheepishly says that ghosts can't eat but you feel very very guilty. •One day you find him secretly reading your notebook with poems. He then reveals that he actually writes songs. Soon you are reading his songs and even propose that you begin a blog where you could publish his lyrics. •You surprise him with the little blog you made that's called "Quokka & friends" •You have to always remind yourself that you live with a clumsy ghost whenever you bring something fragile to your house. •He is very happy when you invite him to watch a movie with him. Soon it becomes a habit for you both to always have a movie night on every week end and after the movie ends you both would have lengthy discussions about the movie. •one day he appears from the attic with a dusty guitar that he claims once belonged to him. Plays and sings several songs. •Appears in the house one day and twirls into your room with joy. Says that he was taken into a ghost band, who sings at ghosts events. •Invites you to one of their performances which is at a *shivers* supposed haunted hotel. Introduces his two other bandmates who calls themselves SPEARB and CB97. I.N ver / Seungmin version /Hyunjin ver / BangChan ver / Lee Know version/ Changbin version / Felix version

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airxn · 3 months ago

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𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐗𝐍 . an independent dual oc rp blog featuring the twins airin and xavier. two retired mercenaries who've settled in nyc to work for the infamous supernatural bar– the gear shift. featuring aus: borderlands, legend of zelda, dc, fallout, dnd, and more!

edited in after effects by luri | blonde dynamite by caravan palace transcription under the cut

00:00 – Video begins. Blonde Dynamite by Caravan Palace begins to play. The background that is throughout the video is a city with white lights and a dark gray background. It fades into view.

00:02 – Text that reads "AIRXN - independent oc rp blog" pops onto the screen.

00:05 – Transition to text that reads "Featuring: Airin – shape-shifter, founder, lil' shit". Images of Airin as a felicid (golden canid creature with a mane) and as a human (a golden blond bitch) transition through the screen to the beat.

00:11 – Transition to text that reads "And his brother: Xavier – soul eater, anti-social bastard". Images of Xavier (very handsome man with long, black hair) transition across the screen.

00:15 – In the center of the screen an image of human Airin and Xavier together pops in. The text "wicked" and "wired" appear on the screen to the beat.

00:17 – Image of human Airin pops up on the left. The text "semi-selective" slides in from screen from the right.

00:19 – Image of a snarling felicid Airin pops into the center of the screen. On the left the text "canon friendly" pops in with the beat. The text "in love with ocs" pops on the right with the beat.

00:22 – Image of snarling felicid Airin pops forward to reveal his dullas (purple, frill-like appendages that shake rapidly). The image slides downward.

00:23 – Image of Xavier lounging slides down from the top of the screen. The text "multi-para" transitions onto the screen.

00:24 – The prior image flips to a monster-appearing Xavier. The text becomes "multi-para and whimsical".

00:26 – Image of luri (small, ginger gremlin with a red hoodie, black tights, and two leaves floating above her head) transitions into the center of the screen. In a circle around her, the text reads "loved by luri". The image and text fades out with by flickering out of view.

00: 28 – Text transitions in stating "Featuring alternate universes: legend of zelda, outlast trials, fallout, dnd/baldur's gate, borderlands, dc, owl house." Text transitions in below the prior text "ft. highly adaptable crossover verse".

00:36 – The text "you're going to find me probably weird" appears behind the prior text. The text transitions out with a pop.

00:40 – Animation of human Airin, Xavier, and Luri bop to the beat on the bottom of the screen. The text "Other info: drawn and irl icons, 18+, sporadic activity, favors light plotting, multi-ship, 10+ years of rp experience" transitions into the center of the screen. The scene transitions out with glitch effect.

00:50 – The text "airxn.tumblr.com" transitions into the center of the screen and fades away.

01:00 – Video ends.

this transcription isn't perfect so please let me know what corrections can be made, thank you!

#promo.#pmv.#rp promo #my art

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creamedh0ney · 2 months ago

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☀️Hey Sunshine ☀️

I thought I'd introduce myself! I wasn't sure how to make a nice looking introduction but I figure I'll just go for it and add if I need to!

First of all, you can call me Andy. My name changes sometimes in real life but Andy is a pretty safe, gender neutral one to use for me.

🌻Basics About Me🌻

Big Age: 17, but 18 in November!

Little Age: 1-6

Gender Identity: Genderfluid

Pronouns I use: she/he/they/it/xe (depends on the time, but use what you'd like)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Other Stuff: I am autistic, I have c-ptsd and chronic pain - Please be patient with me!

🪁Hobbies🪁

Drawing (with sidewalk chalk, chalk pastels, pencil, marker, crayon, anything really!)

Gardening (though I'm not good at it yet)

Biking

Volleyball (just for fun though, I'd rather not do anything competitively)

Baking

Writing (poetry, fantasy or romance stories, essays)

Reading (fantasy, romance, classics, poetry, fanfiction, science nonfiction)

Watching anime/animated TV shows

Shopping

Listening to music

🧸Interests/Things I Like🧸

Shows(some of these are not agere or sfw necessarily!): Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Banana Fish, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sesame Street, Owl House, Ouran High-school Host Club, Gravity Falls, Haikyu, Strawberry Shortcake, Wild Kratts, X-Men, Amazing Spiderman

Movies/Studios: Disney (specifically Tangled and other princess movies), Studio Ghibli, Tim Burton movies (specifically Coraline and Edward Scissorhands)

Toys/Toy Type Things: Dolls (porcelain or rag- not creepy ones or anything, just normal), Stuffed Animals, Calico Critters, Barbies, Littlest Pet Shops, Animal Figures (specifically schleich), Play Food, Play Dough, Lego

Games: Stardew Valley, Slime Rancher, Minecraft, Genshin Impact, Sims, Roblox (I like Fashion Famous and Royale High specifically), Animal Jam, Fall Guys, Star Stable, Pokémon (though I've only played it on other people's consoles)

Other:

Animals (of all kinds!! I adore any and all, but if you reallyyy wanna know specifics, I can yap for AGES!)

Clowns! I have been for a very long time, I adore them!

Anything pink or yellow! Those are my favorite colors ever!

Nostalgia is a very big theme in my interests, there's something so very special about it!

🎀BYF/Things You Should Know🎀

- I'm gonna be posting randomly, there's not really a set time. I may post a TON in a day, or I may not post for weeks. Please be patient and respectful of my time!

- I prefer cursing to a veryy very small amount. The occasional d-word or s-word is okay. I curse a lot outside of regression - which I'm working on - so I don't kind, but this is a safe space for me and many others. Please be respectful of that in your language choices.

- If I post something which is triggering to you and don't post a trigger warning, it is completely okay to let me know! Tell me to post a warning! Please! It doesn't harm me at all to edit and add a tw.

- Adding onto the one above, I may post something and come across as too blunt or may not word things correctly. Let. Me. Know. I want to know if I come across as rude or if my intention isn't clear. That's important to me.

🧼DNI🧼

Basic DNI (homophobes, racists, misogynists, etc.)

NSFW/K!nk

Accounts featuring g0re, S/H, e/d, and the like

Anti agere (obviously)/ Anti Furry / Anti Neopronouns (idk if there are terms for that, please let me know if there are, but you know what I mean for now!)

Basically, don't be a jerk! I want to be as friendly and welcoming as possible, but that means keeping this space safe, respectful and kind. This is my blog and that means upholding my rules. Thank you so much for understanding!!

( @kodaswrld made my dividers and icon!! Love it sm!!)

#age regression #sfw agere #sfw age regression #sfw agedre #sfw interaction only #agere #age regressor #agere community #age dreaming #sfw regression #sfw littlespace #age regressive #age regression blog #age regressing #agere blog

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azaleakoneko · 11 months ago

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༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

Sanji x Fem|Reader

A/N: This is for @vodkeii Loverboy Sanji Event! My first of the three entries ahh I’m so nervous, but I hope you enjoy it! 🙈 Title is based on lyrics from the song It’s been a long, long time — (covered by Kitty Kalen), which is also the song featured in the edit above :3

Plot: Y/n is the daughter of a farmer/merchant that has a deal with the Baratie to provide fresh produce. Usually her father would do the deliveries but when he got sick he put y/n in charge of the deliveries in his stead. At first she was nervous to be going to a pirate restaurant, but everyone seemed friendly enough and eventually she met Sanji and was immediately charmed. She started making weekly deliveries to the restaurant and saving up her wages to eat there herself and see Sanji more often, leading to a sweet cooking date! 🥰

Warnings: None, Just fluff 💕. Use of terms of endearment (Sweetheart and My angel)

Word count: 5.6k

Network: @enchantedforest-network

Please note that just because this work is fluff and appropriate for consumption of any age, that cannot be said about the rest of my blog. This is primarily an 18+ Blog and will stay that way, so keep that in mind, thank you!

༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

Three months ago

“Father please, you can’t be serious…! You expect me to go there alone? But they’re pirates… What if I’m kidnapped or killed… or worse!” You protested with defiance in your voice after what he had just told you. “Are there really no other alternatives?”

He informed you that beginning that next morning, you were to take over in his place taking his deliveries to the Baratie, commandeering a small transport ship that had been your small family’s main source of income for as long as you could remember; selling produce to pirates and marines alike, but mostly to the Baratie restaurant since it offered the best compensation. At least that’s what your father always said when he’d set sail, reassuring you he would return home safely every time. He usually did, which never did manage to ease your distaste, not even when he’d come home with leftovers of the best things you had ever tasted in your life. It just unsettled you with all of the stories of the ruthless, pillaging, heartless pirates you had spent your whole life growing up hearing — you couldn’t understand how any amount of berries would be worth it, and now it was your turn.

“Oh calm down, y/n. You act like I’m sending you off to a slaughter house or something. It’s a restaurant for god's sake.” Your father said with an amused guffaw that sent him into a flurry of phlegmatic coughs, urging him to grab the handkerchief off of the side table so he could cover his mouth. After he regained his breath he looked up at you with an extremely worn and rugged expression that he tried his hardest to hide with the warmest smile he could manage given the pain. “Please don’t argue. I understand how you feel, but you’re the only one that can do it. When I’m gone you’ll have to handle all of the business, not just the Baratie deal. I just want to make sure you won’t struggle sweetheart.”

You were bubbling with frustration, especially when he told you to calm down, and more than ready to pop like an overheated kettle about to boil over but were immediately snapped out of your streak of rebellion at the sound of his health issues acting up again. It always sent a wave of worry through your heart whenever he got like this and your body propelled you to his side, helping him up from his padded rocking chair and towards his bedroom for the night. “Okay fine I won’t argue, just please take it easy father… I understand. I’ll do it alright, if that’s the price for your peace of mind. Now go lie down and I’ll fetch you some tea and your medication.”

The past few years had been a steady decline for him, but you grew up learning all of the basics to get by from how to farm and how to haggle with merchants, all the way to hosting your own little fresh produce stand planted right next to his when you were younger until you were old enough to handle the flood of clientele that visited his on your own and learning how to handle and save household and business funds. It was a lot to learn and came with many conflicts between you and your father when you brought to his attention that other young women were out searching for potential marriage candidates and having fun with their friends instead of having a business thrust upon them. Still, your love and respect for your father kept you close to home and working to take over since he didn’t have any sons to pass his business onto. Love and familial obligation were your ultimate burdens to carry just like raising and protecting you alone all of these years had been his to carry.

So with great reluctance, when it finally rolled over into the early hours of the next morning, there you were loading up the little transport ship and cross referencing the corresponding item checklist.

It somehow bothered you that it was playing out just like a usual run of the mill delivery. There were no stormy clouds or end of times type of catastrophes foreboding a dangerous trip or stopping you from setting off, instead you were faced with the usual misty early morning fog that hugged the water before dissipating when the sun made its arrival. However, you would already be well on your way to the Baratie before the sun peaked, needing to have the goods delivered so they could be received by the kitchen and prepped before the restaurant opened up for that evening's diners. You just hoped they didn’t decide to put you on the menu since this was your first time engaging with pirates. It was silly to think of sure and possibly a bit outlandish for cannibalism to be your first fear out of all of this, since even pirates were still just people, but surely some of the stories had to hold merit. Despite these lingering fears however, you had promised your father that you would handle it so he could rest and that was a promise you weren’t about to break.

The seas themselves were relatively calm too as if to add salt to the wound of your overactive imagination, and any other trade vessel would’ve been praising whatever gods there were for the easy travel, but you stood at the wheel of the ship with knots in your stomach. The waves lapped at the boat and urged you closer to the restaurant, the fish shape of the ship immediately catching your attention. If you hadn’t known any better you would have assumed it was a fisherman’s boat, but the closer you got the clearer the word ‘restaurant’ became and your nerves were now at an all time high. You navigated your vessel towards the floating docks attached to the larger ship, docked, and began to tie up the safety rope just like your father taught you. It was a pretty easy task but it was made longer due to your trembling fingers.

When you were finished you gave the rough rope a good tug to ensure it’s stability before making your way back onboard to grab a few of the crates to carry them towards what you assumed to be the back entrance. Part of you wondered how your father had even made the deliveries as long as he had all by himself as you carefully walked along the creaky wooden dock so you wouldn’t drop any of the produce. All was well with only a few close calls as you levied the weight of the boxes between the wall and your frame as you lifted your hand and timidly tapped your knuckles against the door. It only took a moment of waiting before it swung open, the lively sounds of an already busy kitchen falling upon your ears as a portly, normal enough looking man in a standard white chef's outfit came out to assess the disturbance with a raised brow until he saw the boxes.

“Oh that’s right, I forgot it would be a new person coming today. Thank you kindly. We were wondering if we’d be able to stay on schedule today or not, but you’re just on time.” The man said with apparent relief in his tone as he wasted no time in helping you, grabbing the boxes like nothing. “I’ll go ahead and take these in and send some men out to collect the rest. Just go ahead and go through the kitchen and wait inside at one of the tables, I’m sure Zeff will be right with you with your payment.”

There wasn’t really room to protest and you recognized that name at least from what your father told you so you nodded your head with a polite but somewhat stiff smile. “Of course! I’m glad I wasn’t late. Oh okay, sure, I’ll go in then…” You said as you steeled your nerves once again to enter the pirate restaurant. You expected to see chaotic disorder and a mess of drunken old men, but what you saw was instead a very clean and professional kitchen with everyone already attentively prepping meats and vegetables of all sorts and colors. Everything smelled so good, especially when she walked behind a man opening an oven containing a fresh beautiful fluffy cheesecake. It looked like a pretty cloud on its own and you could already imagine what it would taste like melting in your mouth with a sweet cream topping and strawberries, but this wasn’t the time to think about food. You had to get your fathers payment and go home, back to where you felt in your own element.

It was a little calmer when you pushed past the service doors into the main dining room of the Baratie. The main doors weren’t open yet so it was just you and the staff getting the room ready, which somehow made you feel both at ease and also on display as you ogled the decorative room around you. The outside had been impressive enough, but the inside was intricately designed with paintings of far away places and long gone people adorned with golden inlaid frames on beautiful crimson walls, tables topped with plates of the finest hand painted china, beautiful centerpieces to accompany the arrangements, and majestic pillars holding up a secondary dining area. It was a far cry from the uncultured barbarians you had heard of and left your head swimming as you made your way to a table out of the way of the hustle and bustle, shrinking down into the nearest chair as you tried to make yourself less of an eyesore and obstacle for the workers. If anything you felt underdressed now.

“…” A soft sigh left your lips as you kept your hands on your lap, fingers fiddling with the little charms on the bracelet clasped on your wrist to pass the time as you watched people walk in and out of the kitchen. You had begun to wonder if you had been forgotten about in the process after you had grown weary of gazing around the establishment, but just as you were about to get up from your seat and look for someone who looked to be in charge, someone approached your table and set down a steaming cup of what appeared to be a decorative coffee with adorable little whipped foam hearts. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t order this. I’m not here to eat, just to get paid—” Instead of another homely waitstaff, or perhaps even the elder peg legged whiskered chef Zeff you were told about, before you stood a gentleman who looked not much older than yourself who wore a dazzling smile that was only rivaled by the sparkling deep blue of his eyes as he looked down at you. Truthfully it made your heart skip to suddenly be under such an attentive gaze.

“I know madam, this is just because I saw you sitting here by yourself and couldn’t help but bring you a little something sweet since you’ve already sweetened my day.” The charming young blonde man said with a wink as he refused to pick up the pretty steaming cup of enticing coffee until you gave it a try. “Please go ahead and drink it, it’s on the house. And here to be paid, you say? Ahh I’ll be right back. Don’t you go anywhere now sweetheart.”

You watched him turn on his heel and leave toward the kitchen again with a bewildered but intrigued expression on your face as your hands finally left your lap and held the piping hot cup with a light grasp, humming with delight as it thawed out your chilly fingers. “Well that was nice…” It seemed that the small show of kindness was enough to dispel the silly fears you had previously harbored because the cup was quickly brought to your lips, gulping down some of the creamy liquid experimentally and sighing happily as the delicious caffeinated beverage laced with caramel warmed you to the core. The cute little hearts dispelled against your lips, but it was a small price to pay for the delicious taste. “Mm, I’ve never had anything this good.”

You finished the drink quicker than you realized—an adorable pout adorning your lips when there was no longer a drop of your beloved coffee lingering. There wasn’t much time to be disappointed though, the kind stranger that served you before was already heading back towards your table.

“Sorry about that my lady, please allow me to take care of that for you.” He began with another charming smile, taking the cup from your hands and setting it on the tray he held placed off to the side of the table. “Chef Zeff was regrettably a bit busy so he told me to go ahead and give you your payment this time, I hope that’s alright. I promise it’s all there.” He said as one of his hands sunk into his pants pocket to produce a sizable stack of berries. He placed it in your hands gingerly, and he seemed trustworthy enough that you just nodded and carefully tucked the money away in your bag.

“Thank you, Mister, um… Sorry, what was your name?” You asked with a sheepish smile in return, feeling bad for not having already asked the first time around when he had brought you the coffee, although you hadn’t really had the opportunity to to speak much to him before he had left to get the money from Zeff to give to you for the goods.

“My name is Sanji, and it has been my pleasure to help you out this lovely morning. What shall I call you, sweetheart? Unless you’re fine with being called that.” The cheeky blonde man you now knew as Sanji asked with a playful and flirtatious smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he waited for your response without a shred of shame; going as far as taking your hand in his and pulling it up so he could press a chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

“T-Then thank you, Sanji. It’s nice to meet you,” You stammered in surprise, being reasonably caught off guard by the suddenness of the action and the continued casual flirtation. “-you can just call me y/n.”

“Y/n… Now that’s a perfect name for a stunning angel like yourself.” He tacked on with a seemingly ceaseless supply of butterfly inducing charm that you weren’t entirely sure what to do with. Your cheeks burned from the compliment yet you couldn’t seem to avert your gaze from the man. “So tell me y/n, will you be sticking around for breakfast? You just name it and I can head back to the kitchen and cook it up special for you. I promise it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever had.”

“Breakfast…? Oh I wish I could stay longer, but I’m afraid my father is waiting for me back at home. Perhaps next time I can stay and eat here.” You said, not even sure if a place like this would really fit into your expendable budget, but also not wanting to tell him no when he had been so kind to you. “I look forward to getting to try your cooking, Sanji. If it’s as good as the coffee you made for me I’m sure my savings will be in danger…” You added on with a warm laugh. “But I really must be going, I wouldn’t want to be in the way when customers start arriving. It really was nice to meet you Sanji.”

Sanji was going to protest that it wasn’t possible for you to be in the way, but you had already gotten up from your seat, smoothing your dress down before flashing him a smile that made him hope you really would come back; even if it was just so he could see you when you came to make a sale again. “My cooking is definitely better than the coffee, sweetheart. You’ll just have to find that out the next time you’re here then—which is soon I hope.” He said as he reached forward and gently untangled the charm on your necklace that had gotten wrapped around the chain when you stood up. “There you go, and I hope you don’t mind if I ask to walk you out? Couldn’t very well call myself a gentleman if I let a woman sail off unaided.”

Needless to say you couldn’t refuse and found yourself being escorted back to your ship, safe and sound just like your father had said you would be.

You shared a little bit more back and forth, telling him when the next shipment was to be expected and assuring him that it would be you delivering it again the next time, much to his evident delight. Eventually you realized he had managed to trick you into staying longer than you planned with innocent questions and with reluctance reminded him you had to leave before it got too late. He seemed disappointed but conceded knowing he had no real reason to keep you, even helping to untie the boat from the docks while you made your way to the wheel. You waved each other off, and that morning you took home with you more than just berries; a changed perspective and a desire to come back with enough cash to taste his cooking.

Present Day

Delivery days to the Baratie had become your favorite days of the month the past three months much to your fathers amusement, not that you’d told him the real reason you had warmed up to the job. It didn’t take much for an old man to figure out though when he saw his usually glum and disinterested daughter putting more effort into her appearance for a simple delivery looking to be in much higher spirits. His daughter being happy was nothing he would ever complain about, so he wasn’t too concerned. If anything it was nice to see you unwind and enjoy yourself more often.

“Y/n, why don’t you go ahead and take out what I owe you when you get paid today, huh? Stick around the Baratie for a bit. Treat yourself and eat there and tell your old man what you think of the food at the restaurant, eh? You’ve been working too hard lately. I appreciate it, but you need to take a break too.” Your father said as he walked you to the front door of your shared home to wave you off. “I insist; and y/n…? You look lovely today, honey.”

“Thank you, but what’s gotten into you today, dad?” You said with a laugh as you gave him a tight hug before boarding the little transport ship like usual. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay, I’ll stay for breakfast at least. I have been meaning to for some time now. Do you want me to bring you something back?”

“What, I can’t compliment my daughter?” Your father grumbled as he tossed the rope onboard before supporting his weight with his cane. “I’ll be fine! You worry about me too much, I have food here at home. Be young, go enjoy yourself.”

The boat trip was as usual pretty uneventful, but you were thrilled to finally be able to stay for once instead of leaving after being paid and stealing whatever few precious extra minutes with the handsome cook that had effortlessly gained your interest that you could. You didn’t even mind unloading the boxes today, but you took extra care regardless since you had worn a pretty white dress that shimmered like stardust when the light hit it and you didn’t want to get it dirty before he could see you all dressed up in it.

The delivery went off without issue, and now you sat at your usual seat in the dining room as you waited for Sanji—heart thudding nervously in your chest as butterflies danced in your stomach and throat. Despite the flirting over the past few months, you still never got used to seeing the way he smiled when he saw you, and you were certain that today’s smile would inflict critical damage to your heart, but it was only fair since you were sure to do the same. It felt a bit silly dressing up just for these moments, but every smile and compliment was well worth a few lingering moments of feeling a bit ridiculous.

The moment he appeared in your peripheral vision you straightened in your chair and subconsciously began to fix your hair, but stopped fussing when you could tell that he had seen you. Then there it was, a breathtaking, awestruck, toothy grin like a kid being allowed to open their gifts early on Christmas that sucked the air right out of your lungs.

“Y/n sweetheart, you look absolutely ethereal this morning!” Sanji gasped as he wasted no time in showering the back of your hand in soft kisses; something that had become a usual greeting between the two of you yet never failed to set your heart rate pounding sky high. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing an angel in my presence…?” He cooed softly, laying it on thick as per the usual, but today you wanted to see what would happen if you let the casual flirting teeter into new territory.

“Aw Sanji, you're too sweet to me, thank you...!” You smiled shyly as you let your hand stay captured in his gentle grasp, enjoying his warmth. In your desire to see what would happen though, you squeezed his hand and rubbed your thumb over his while looking him in the eyes to answer his question. “Well, I wanted to see you of course; and I just had to finally see what your cooking tastes like.” With the incoming payment today, and expressed permission from your father to use the funds, you were more than prepared to pay whatever price you had to for the ‘best meal you’d ever had’ as Sanji had promised you the first time you had met.

It was clear for a split second that you had completely flustered the poor man by reciprocating even a fraction of the attention he was giving you from the adorable shade of pink that dusted his cheeks, but his happiness at hearing you would finally be dining on the Baratie and eating his food helped his temporary brain override right itself, instantly widening his smile and seemingly just encouraging him to go further with his affections.

“Just for me? Well in that case I can’t refuse, can I?” Sanji said as he carefully pulled you up from your seated position and began to lead you into the kitchen where everyone was working away. It earned you a few curious gazes but they ultimately said nothing as they watched Sanji take you to one of the industrial stoves to show off. Being Zeff’s adopted son had its privileges every now and then. “So what are you in the mood for today, my angel?”

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m back here? I could’ve just ordered at the table, Sanji…” You asked anxiously, but were taken off guard when he plopped a hand on your head and gently ruffled your hair in a show of affection to make you stop worrying, but still making sure not to mess it up.

“Don’t worry about it y/n, no one’s gonna say anything to you for being in here.” Sanji said with a laugh before smiling brightly down at you. “Could’ve ordered at the table? Nonsense, I won’t have it. Don’t worry about the details, love. I’m going to be cooking for you personally, so don’t worry about paying, okay? Just let me know what sounds good to you and I’ll see what I can do. It’s the least I can do to make your day a little better after you brightened my day so easily.”

You were a bit baffled when he told you that you didn’t need to pay but you weren’t about to question him, especially not when he continued to make your heart skip with those pretty smiles of his. So you nodded in agreement, but it didn’t completely sit right with you to just let him do it by himself when you had come here to spend time with him. “Okay fine, but can I at least help you cook…? I would feel a lot better about not paying if you let me help out. Also, I was thinking maybe some strawberry crêpes? I know it’s simple, but I’m craving sweets.”

Sanji had been looking forward to wowing you with his culinary prowess, but hearing how cute it was that you wanted to help make something to satisfy your sweet tooth had him wholeheartedly agreeing to let you without any hesitation. “Sure, of course you can help me sweetheart. Follow me to the fridge so you can help me grab some things we need? Then I’ll make sure my sweet gets her sweets.” He said as he held his hand out to you, which you then took without a second thought.

“Mhm!” You hummed happily as you kept closely behind him, taking the items he handed you without a fuss or a worry in your mind. It was nice not to have to stress about rushing right back home, especially when things seemed to be going so well between the two of you right now. You even wondered if you could get him to eat with you as you carried the necessary ingredients to the nearby countertop. It wasn't anything too crazy, but it made your day knowing you got to share this time with him, helping him doing what he loved to do. “What would you like me to do next, Chef Sanji?” Your tone was happy and playful with a hint of flirtation.

“Ideally I’d love for you to just sit here and look gorgeous while I serve you, but since you insist on helping you can go ahead and slice some strawberries and make the whipped filling for the crêpes if you don’t mind.” He said as he began making the batter, then fired up the stove with an audible click of gas before flame started to lick the bottom of the pan and warm it until it was hot enough to make the layers of batter he poured into it make beautifully browned thin crêpes ready for the filling—more than plenty enough for just you.

You had finished slicing the strawberries into a neat bowl and were in the process of whipping the heavy cream and cream cheese with the sugar and vanilla when Sanji came up behind you to check on your progress, placing a hand innocently on your hip and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. The close contact made you freeze for a moment before relaxing against him and enjoying it for as long as it would last instead. “I’m almost done too! But it would be a shame to have to eat all of this by myself... Won’t you share them with me, Sanji?” You asked while running your finger along the edge of the bowl to collect the excess fluffy cream on your index finger, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. “Mm… Please? You definitely have to taste this.”

Sanji found it too cute to resist your persistence on sharing your special meal together, so he didn’t say no. In fact, he was definitely tempted to have a taste for himself—just not entirely what you were thinking. “Don’t mind if I do, my angel.” He said with a smirk as he gently turned your chin to have you look at him, leaning in to steal a quick kiss to taste the sweet cream lingering there from your own stolen taste of it. “Just the right amount of sweetness.”

At that moment you were certain that if anyone looked up ‘flustered’ in a dictionary it would surely have a photograph of you as its subject. Your cheeks burned hot, lips parted in shock and you almost thought you imagined it when he let go of you and took the bowl of sweet cream to begin filling the crêpes like nothing had just happened. Given the setting you didn’t want to question it, figuring you’d get a chance to ask about it later.

After everything was dished up onto two plates he grabbed a fork and cut off a reasonably sized piece, lifting it to your lips with an expectant expression. “Now it’s time for the ‘look gorgeous while I serve you’ portion of our morning.” Sanji said quite cheekily and didn’t relent until you gave in and ate from the dainty metal fork obediently. “That’s a good girl. There’s no better compliment you could give me than just seeing you enjoy the food we’ve made together, sweetheart.”

It almost made you choke hearing him call you that, but you attributed it to his tendency to use terms of endearment with you and tried to focus on the taste of the food in your mouth instead. It was by all means perfect just like he said it would be. Sweet but not too sweet with the buttery crêpe and freshness from the strawberries, but you had to admit that it paled in comparison to the sweet kiss he had stolen from you just a few moments ago. In the cheesiest way possible, that had been enough to satisfy your craving; not that you would say that and ruin how happy he looked when you took another piece that was offered to you without fuss and then another until it was gone. You’d eat whatever he offered without question, especially if he kept smiling at you like that.

“So tell me, was it as good as you had hoped it would be?” Sanji asked as he gently dabbed a folded napkin against your lips like you would shatter if he wasn’t careful with you. It almost made him laugh though when you looked a little disappointed, which he deduced was from his use of the napkin instead of a suave smooch, but he rationalized that the morning wasn’t quite over yet until you’d stepped on the boat to leave; and he had his own clever little agenda at play. If another kiss was what you were after, you were sure to get it and more as long as you just said yes to a separate question he had for you.

You immediately nodded but cleared your throat so you could contribute more than that—he certainly deserved praise for even bringing you back and cooking for you in the first place. “It was amazing Sanji, I definitely wouldn’t mind coming back and paying for a meal next time, especially if you’ll be the one cooking it for me… How can I repay you?”

“There is really no need for you to repay me for any of this sweetheart. I only request that you’ll allow me to accompany you back to your boat again? I’ve really come to like our time together you know, so I hope you don’t mind.” He said with another jello leg inducing smile that only allowed you to profusely agree, suddenly regretting eating the crêpe so quickly upon realizing it meant it was getting around the time to head out so he could get back to work.

However, all good things eventually had to come to an end so you reluctantly nodded and allowed him to escort you back to your ship. Once you got there he handed you a container with the leftover crêpes under the promise that you’d give it to your father as a thanks for not minding you staying out a bit later.

“Are you sure I can take this…? Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t eat any of it at all, just fed me…” You said with a concerned pout that only made him smile at your sweet consideration of him. “I just feel bad—”

Sanji gently pressed a finger to your lips with an amused shake of his head. “If you’re so worried about me eating something, why don’t you come back later tonight and we can have dinner together when I get off, my angel? If your father doesn’t mind letting you run off again that is.” He said with a smirk as he removed his finger from your lips in favor of caressing your cheek. “We’ll have a proper date, if that’s something you would like y/n.”

You subconsciously leaned into his touch and nodded, knowing that if anything your father would be annoyingly supportive and take the chance to remind you that you had once been practically quaking in your boots about even going to the Baratie once upon a time and now you couldn’t get enough, wanting to go of your own free will to see one of those pirates you had been so afraid of.

“I would love that, Sanji. I’ll be here, I promise.”

After that Sanji didn’t hesitate to cup your face with both of his hands and lean in to press one more kiss to your lips and then another, letting his lips linger against yours instead of pulling away right away since there weren’t a bunch of eyes on the two of you out here. It only made you even more certain that you would face whatever teasing you had to so you could make it back here tonight for a chance at receiving more of his addictive affections.

He eventually pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead against yours with a soft sigh, pulling you into a tight warm embrace before he had to send you away like he didn’t even want to let you go. “I’ll see you tonight then, my sweet angel.”

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©HauntedHeartHowl, previously HowlTheSanjiSimp. Please do not: copy, modify, translate, feed my fan fictions to AI, repost or promote my writing or graphics on other platforms. Please DO feel free to comment, reblog or follow <3

#Loverboy Sanji Collab Event #hauntedhearthowl #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji vinsmoke x y/n #sanji one piece #sanji fluff #one piece fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece x y/n #one piece x female reader #|#| 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐤𝐨’𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬

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no1frogfan · 1 year ago

Text

Impending, part 2

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~2.6k

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, drugs (smokin a joint), semi-public sex (barely), fingering, p in v

Note: Vegeta fuckers rise up. (But for real everyone knows Android 18 is where it’s at.) I think this piece makes clear how big the Mattsun-shaped hole in my heart is. Thank you @prettyiwa for your keen editing eye :* And idk if you wanted to keep getting tagged in this series mica but in case you do @princesskazuya

part 1 | part 3

The first time he met you, Makki had invited him over to play games after school. It was only the second week of 4th grade, but they’d hit it off immediately. He was aware Makki had two siblings, and even though he was younger than Makki, Issei was still the oldest in his own family and the oldest among his cousins, so he was pretty sure his mature energy would garner your respect.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that…it didn’t.

Actually, you were the one who impressed him. You seemed to know all the things that middle schoolers knew and elementary schoolers didn’t, and right away he found himself on the back foot, wanting you to recognize him as an equal.

The second time he went to Makki’s house, he went prepared. This time, he was going to get more than a quick glance from you, so he picked out the coolest shirt he owned — dark gray, oversized, with Vegeta going Super Saiyan plastered across the front. When you opened the door and feigned a cough to hide your laugh, he realized he’d misfired again.

When he thinks back on his childhood memories of you, they were invariably like this — you out of reach and him just behind, you ahead and him in pursuit.

You were always polite to him, never mean, but never overly friendly either. And why would you be? He was the annoying friend of your annoying little brother. The two of them were constantly following you around trying to get you to take them to high school parties where they were sure they’d get their first sip of beer and their first kiss.

It’s just that somewhere along the way, he started hoping you would be his first kiss.

But the four-year age gap meant he didn’t get much of a chance. By the time he got to high school, you were away at college, and by the time he graduated college, well, you’d already started making headway with your career in Sendai, or so Makki said.

In that time, he’d graduated high school, college too, and now he’s pretty established in the family business. He still hangs out with Makki all the time, and he’s a fixture in the Hanamaki household, always making sure to visit your parents along with his own. It’s just that whenever he came over, you’d either just left, or were yet to arrive. The timing was never right.

The desire to impress you faded to near-nonexistence over the years. Near non-existence, because a tiny little part of him still keeps track of how long it’s been since he last saw you (until today: 11 years). So when Makki invited him over for a family barbecue and mentioned offhandedly that you were home visiting, well, that tiny little part of him may have decided to trade the usual basketball shorts and faded t-shirt for the shorts that hug his thighs and the shirt that shows off the physique he’s kept up even after volleyball.

He knew he’d have to endure some teasing, but he’s used to it at this point.

(Makki took one look at him in the doorway and doubled over laughing, “It’s never gonna happen, bro.”

Mattsun just shrugged. “Can’t blame me for wanting to shoot my shot.”

Makki did not like that turn of phrase.)

Anyway, he’s probably over you at this point. He’d almost convinced himself of that until the moment you appeared at the top of the basement steps.

Maybe there’s something about the basement. Back then, he was always playing games down here with Makki. The tv screen was much smaller at the time, and the basement wasn’t fully finished. The walls hadn’t been painted, the floor was just concrete, and the only furniture was a paint-stained coffee table, a lumpy old sofa, and a dirty bean bag chair. Your parents gave them their privacy though, and kept the old fridge downstairs stocked with soda, so to him, it was basically heaven.

You usually left him and Makki alone, but sometimes if you were really bored, or if it was too hot upstairs, or you were supposed to watch them while your parents were out, you’d hang out down here and play a round or two. Sometimes you’d complain about your friends or whoever you were dating at the time, and Makki would always take their side and he would always take yours, and afterward you’d jokingly berate your brother, Why can’t you be nice to me like Issei?

The way you called his name today with that pleased little lilt made his insides twist into familiar knots. When he chanced a peek…you looked stunning, even better than he remembered. Especially with a radiant glow from the afternoon sun, beads of sweat disappearing into your cleavage, and thighs spilling out of tiny denim shorts.

He felt nervous, hyperaware of you sitting behind them on the couch. So when Makki reached over to bat at his controller, he channeled that anxious energy into shoving back.

In retrospect, it was more than a little childish to think he could impress you by wrestling your brother. Wrestling? Really? What are they, ten years old? He regretted it as soon as Makki left and the adrenaline wore off. He’s a grown man now, with plenty of experience under his belt, so how come you’re still able to make him feel like this?

Mattsun tried to play it off while he figured out another tactic, but then… When you leaned in to take the controller out of his hands, he thought you hesitated, just for a second, like you were caught off guard.

And when he sat back against the couch, he thought you seemed fidgety, like maybe the couch was uncomfortable.

And then when he — let’s be honest — completely fucking panicked and just laid himself across your lap because he couldn’t keep his hands off you, and your voice got all throaty, like…he’s even not sure what.

When you shoved him off and retreated into the couch, when he saw the agitated rise and fall of your chest and the way your nipples poked through the thin fabric of your crop top, when you looked everywhere but at him—

That’s when it clicked. Maybe, just maybe, he finally had a chance.

He barely remembers the race, so dizzying was this revelation.

He ignored Makki’s curious look when he didn’t lie back down on the floor. He hoped you didn’t mind how sweaty his palm was when he pushed himself up next to you instead. You’d stiffened, keeping your gaze resolutely focused on your phone, even though you’d stopped scrolling.

Now that you’re within reach, he doesn’t want to let go of this chance. To ghost his lips on the skin of your neck. To make his desire plain to you. To know if you want him too.

When you look up, a reply on your lips…

Makki yawns. Your face drops.

Of course.

He’s an idiot.

He was so high on the barest glimmer of a chance with you that he forgot all about Makki. Of course you’d be worried about how your brother might feel. You have no idea that Makki is well aware of his crush on you.

So when you run off, leaving him behind yet again, he fights the urge to chase. That little inkling of interest had made him impatient. Can you blame him, though? He’s been chasing after you for as long as he can remember. He’s sure of what he wants. But, he reminds himself, this is all new for you.

So for the first time, he doesn’t pursue you.

Don’t rush.

Slow down.

He plays a few more rounds with Makki and waits.

He goes upstairs and helps with the cooking and waits.

He grabs another beer and talks to your parents and waits.

But his patience has limits. Eventually, he can’t quell the antsiness crawling up his body and sneaks off while Makki is waylaid by one of your uncles.

When he doesn’t see you inside, he slips out to the backyard. It’s cool outside now that the sun is just a sliver on the horizon, and quiet since everyone has retreated indoors. He walks around to the side of the house.

A lighter clicks in his periphery, and for a blink, it illuminates you, hidden in a corner between the plum tree and the stone fence.

Your head snaps up at the crunch of gravel under his shoes.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

He ducks under the branches, stopping a few feet away.

“Yup, just me.”

You bring a skinny joint up to your lips and take a deep drag, turning to blow the smoke away from him.

“Needed some air?” He keeps his tone light.

“Something like that.”

He’s slept around, he’s dated, might have even fallen in love once, but there’s something unshakeable about a first crush. Maybe it’s just you that’s unshakeable. He’d dismissed it as a teenage obsession, but the ember he believed had turned to ash has roared to life.

The uncertainty is clear in your posture, yet your gaze flits over him when you think he’s not looking — eyes, lips, shoulders, chest, eyes again — or maybe you just think the haze of dusk gives you some cover.

You hold the joint out with one hand. “Want some?”

He steps into the narrow gap between you and the fence and, bending down, lifts your (surprisingly pliant) hand to his mouth. He tries not to tower over you, but in this confined space it’s hard not to.

He purses his lips gingerly around the tips of your fingers and inhales.

Breathing out slowly, his eyes stay locked on yours.

Your face remains neutral, but he feels the quickening of your pulse under his fingers when he lets go.

You step back to lean against the trunk. Before you can take another puff, he plucks the joint from you.

“Hey, give it back!”

He holds it up out of your reach. “Didn’t think you of all people would smoke.”

You roll your eyes. “I could say the same for you.”

“I guess some things change. And some things don’t.”

“Suppose so,” you admit.

You stare at the joint slowly burning down in his hand.

“Makki knows, you know,” he assures, gauging your reaction.

You frown in confusion. “That I smoke?”

He laughs. “No. He knows that I’m interested.”

Your frown deepens, and he adds, “I didn’t ask for his blessing or anything, but he’s never had a problem, so I’m pretty sure he’s ok with it.”

At that, you meet his eyes — yeah, he might finally have a chance.

He takes a deep drag, and before you can react, he presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke softly into your mouth. He follows it with his tongue, delicate and testing. You open for him, soft like velvet and just a bit bitter from the beer.

When you don’t reciprocate, he reluctantly pulls away.

You evaluate him thoughtfully before snatching the nub from him. Taking one last puff, you snuff it against the fence, pull him down by the front of his shirt, and smash your lips against his. He eagerly welcomes your tongue, groaning when your sharp incisors pinch his bottom lip.

Your hands run up the back of his neck, roam over his broad shoulders, slide down his toned arms. You lift his hands and settle them on your hips, and before he realizes, he’s picking you up off the ground, wrapping your legs around him, and pinning you against the fence.

You pant as he nestles his face in the curve of your neck, licking and nipping restlessly, careful not to leave any marks for Makki or the rest of your family to find.

His fingers glide up your stomach, sneak under your top, to trace the curve of your breast.

“Do you know how hard you made me earlier when I saw you weren’t wearing a bra?” He growls into your shoulder.

You shiver at his admission, nipples hardening in his palms.

“And then Makki came back and I had to sit there and pretend like I wasn’t just fantasizing about fucking you into the couch?”

He grinds his hips, making you squirm, chuckling when he pulls back and you chase after the friction. “Mmm�� yeah? You want me to?”

“Yeah, I want you to,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me, Issei.”

As soon as he sets you down, you start tugging at your shorts and underwear, but before you can even get them to your knees, he’s twisted you around and bent you over against the stone.

He curses as he slips one finger into your soaking cunt, followed quickly by a second. You writhe against his hand, biting back moans as he works them against your slick walls.

“Fuck you’re so wet already. Want this cock that bad, huh?”

“Fuck off Issei,” you whine, “you’re the one who popped a boner w— fuuuck…”

He plunges a third finger inside.

“What was that?”

“Just fucking…shut up and fuck me.”

He tsks, “Was gonna prep you more, but…” But honestly, he’s this close to cumming in his pants. He frees his cock and lines himself up, swooning when it prods against your entrance.

He sinks in. Not in one thrust, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, and because he wants to savor this. But not slowly either, because his patience is worn down to nothing.

“Oh sh— Issei…you’re huge,” you grit out, all the while shoving your ass back to take him in faster.

As soon as you’ve sucked all of him in and his hips rest flush against your pussy, the last thread of his self-control snaps and he’s mindlessly rutting into you. He can’t bear to pull out more than a inch or two before slamming back in, hips snapping with loud claps that almost muffle the sloppy squelch of your cunt.

He pulls you up, needing to feel as much of you against him as possible. One arm circles your waist and the other hand wraps around to clutch at your chest.

Your lewd moans and the way your pussy clenches around his cock makes him lightheaded. He’s lost in your slick walls, soft heat, unable to slow down.

It’s too late to wonder if his fingers are digging into you a little too hard because he’s already about to—

He shoves a hand between your legs to fumble at your clit, it’s clumsy, but you’re just so— he’s praying you cum before he loses it.

The last thing he sees is you clapping a hand over your mouth.

He feels you start to spasm right as he pulls out, blindly reaching down to pump himself once, twice before his vision goes dark.

His chest is still heaving when he regains his senses. You’re panting beside him, clinging to the cold stone, gobs of cum splattering your back and the curve of your ass.

He reaches over to brush away the hair stuck to your forehead.

“I’ll go get some tissues,” he murmurs, tucking himself back into his shorts.

He jogs toward the house, straightening his clothes before slipping inside. Luckily, everyone seems to have migrated into the living room because he doesn’t pass a soul as he grabs some toilet paper from the nearest bathroom before returning.

He’s tender when he tidies you up, gently wiping off your back, swallowing your whimpers with a kiss as he cleans up your oversensitive cunt.

Dimly, something primal wells up in him. Is that weird? To feel elated to be wiping his cum off you?

To feel like, after all this time, he’s finally caught up.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #hq x reader #froggy scribbles

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year ago

Text

The Pairing

Pelle x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: not edited because who can be bothered, midsommar type things (cult, murder, people mysteriously going missing, a weird pairing ritual that includes murder, mentions of dani's trauma, mention of incest), I tweaked the plot a bit to fit the request

Author’s Note: Helly dear I hope you enjoy this! I left it open ended because I figured it was safe to leave the reader up to what they would do. Personallllyyyy I think after trauma bonding I could be swayed into a weird marriage lol. Enjoy(?)

Requested: by anon, Hi! Since you still write for Midsommar (which makes me very happy 🥳) and I saw your requests are open... I got one. The reader is friends with the group, she's Dani's best friend, and of course Pelle has a thing for her, he always tries to make any sort of excuses to touch her. She's invited to Sweden along the rest, and she's tricked into a sort of ritual where it's "decided" that Pelle and her are to be married. When she finds out she's mad and she wants to leave. Then you decide how to end it. Like she stays? She escapes? Is she kidnapped? You choose.❤️❤️❤️ I basically just found your blog, and I read almost all your work, and I love it! You're a great writer 👏

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Do you remember Pelle?” Dani asked. You looked up from your phone. She was sitting on her bed, against the wall, arms wrapped around herself as she thought. Her phone had been recently discarded on the bed. You were sitting at her desk chair. You thought about Pelle, the gentle guy with the gentle smile.

“Yeah sure. He’s nice. Why?” You meant he was nice in that he was nicer than the rest of Christian’s friends. They were okay but they were guys and tended to act that way no matter who was around.

“He’s invited me to Sweden with him and the others.” You raised an eyebrow.

“They’re going to Sweden?”

“Pelle lives there,” she explained. “He’s going home and everyone else is going to visit where he lives. It’s supposed to be some kind of commune or something.” You sat up, putting your phone down.

“Are you going?” She shrugged.

“I don’t know if he wants me there. Christian, I mean. I don’t know if he just invited me to be polite.”

“You said Pelle invited you.”

“Well he seemed happy I was going but I don't really know him. I mean, he talks to you more than he talks to me.” You shrugged. You and Pelle had been friendly through the semester, simply because you go whenever Dani wants you to and Christian drags his friends around like dead weights. You narrowed your eyes at her, unsure what she was getting at.

“Do you want to go?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I should get out of the house right?” You nodded.

“I think it’s a good opportunity. I mean, Sweden! That’s so cool.”

“Pelle extended the invitation to you as well,” Dani explained. You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know the others that well and you knew Christian about as well as anyone knows their best friend's boyfriend. “You don’t have to come but I think I would be more comfortable if you were there too. I’m not sure how I’m going to react and I don’t know Christian’s friends that well and I don’t know the place and-”

“Relax Dani. When is it? I’ll check my schedule.” She grabbed her phone and started to scroll through, looking through the dates.

“We’d get there on my birthday.” You smiled a bit.

“That’s perfect. I didn’t think you should spend your birthday here anyway.” You shrugged. “I’ll go. I mean, I should probably look at how much it’ll cost and stuff but it could be fun. Right?” You didn’t deny how nice it would be to spend more time with Pelle, this time on his home turf.

“Really?” You nodded, shrugging. She smiled easily, shoulders dropping the tenseness.

“Yeah Dani. It’s for your birthday, how about that?”

Pelle grabbed your hiking backpack as you approached the car. The drive was supposed to be over four hours and you were all stuck in the same van, along with all your luggage. You weren’t exactly excited for the overwhelming boy aura that would come along with it.

“Thank you,” you said, gently. He nodded once, a kind smile on his face.

“Of course. I’m so glad you could come,” he expressed.

“Me too! It’s so exciting to see your home.” He shut the back of the car. Everyone else had gotten into their spots in the car. You called shotgun the second you got off the plane and you were grateful for it. Dani was squished in the back beside Christian, her window already down for some air. The sticky hot air was indicative of a nice morning turning into a nice day. You hoped this car had air conditioning. “Is there anything I should know? I’m sorry I don’t know a lot of Swedish, other than what you taught me.”

Pelle had been giving you words here and there, trying to get you to pronounce things correctly. It was kind of a lost cause but it was fun regardless.

“It’s probably going to be foreign at first. There are some things Americans aren’t exactly used to.”

“Like what?” “It’s easier for you to just see. But I assure you, you’re always safe.” He walked to the front of the car. You stood there a moment longer, unsure why you would need to worry about your safety. You pushed it out of your head, walking to the passenger seat. “Everyone buckled in?” Pelle asked, turning the car on.

There was a chorus of yeah’s, followed by a couple seat belts buckling in. You adjusted to be comfortable in your seat and prepared for the drive.

“Keep your hands, arms and feet inside at all times,” you joked. “The show is about to begin.”

The hike to Pelle’s home was nice, if not a bit hot. Eventually you found yourself settled into beds, backpacks finally down, feet resting. You were itching for a shower but didn’t want to ask about it. You had been showered with kindness, large slightly unnerving smiles and flower crowns. Pelle sat beside you in the grass as everyone started to explore. They found themselves in their own bubbles, the dancers and the educators. Even Dani was able to find some sort of place alongside those who were making dinner. You kept a keen eye on her, just in case.

The sun not going down tripped up your inner clock. It had to be closer to midnight than it was to midday.

“This place is beautiful,” you admitted and you meant it. The sense of disconnect from the rest of the world was somewhat jarring. You could tell how someone could enjoy a life out here. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever leave.” Pelle smiled gently. He was leaning back on the palms of his hands. You picked at the overgrown grass under your fingertips.

“It’s slightly limited,” he assured you. “I wanted to see what the rest of the world had to offer.” You shrugged.

“Then decided to come back?”

“This is my home,” he said wistfully.

“Home is where the heart is.” He nodded once. You looked back towards him, squinting in the sun. He seemed used to it, like it had no effect on him. “That was cheesy.”

“But true!” he promised. “Things are cheesy for a reason.” You laughed a bit.

“I think that's a classic,” you argued. He shook his head. “When does the sun set?”

“I thought I told you earlier that it doesn’t.” He leaned forward and gestured to the blue sky. “The midnight sun can go for days. Sometimes just a day, depending on the time of year.” You nodded, opening your mouth to ask another question when Ingemar approached the two of you.

“Good evening,” he said happily.

“It’s evening?” you scoffed. “See, this whole thing is messing with my inner clock. You got a wristwatch?” Both men shook their heads. You weren’t sure why you even asked. They probably still used the stick in ground timing method out here. Or maybe they didn’t even care and simply went about their days as thought time didn’t matter at all. You weren’t sure you could ever adjust to that.

“May I sit?” You and Pelle nodded. He sat down beside Pelle, getting comfortable on the hillside. “Are you both ready for the pairing tomorrow?” Pelle gave Ingemar a look.

“What pairing?”

“It’s silly, really. It’s part of the festival.”

“You haven’t told her?” Ingemar questioned. He laughed, making you feel left out. You weren’t sure why Pelle wanted all of this to be some sort of mystery to you. You wondered if it would lose its charm if you knew what was going to happen. But the pairing sounded somewhat sexual and you wanted to know if you were entering a sex cult or something.

“After the Attestupa tomorrow the elders make five pairings of people. It’s like…superstition. Whichever pairing seems to be best put together by the end of the festival gets to be married.” You scoffed.

“Married? Like a legit wedding?”

“As legit as we get around here. There is no paperwork or church to defy,” Ingemar explained.

“What’s the Attestupa?” you asked. You didn’t want to be insensitive to everything going on but you poked around for the sake of your sanity.

“Another thing easier seen than said,” Pelle explained.

“You are being awfully mysterious Pelle. Should I be worried?” He shook his head.

“No, not at all.”

After the Attestupa you were about to leave. Dani’s panic attack, which was justified after the events you had all witnessed, caused you to jump into protective mode. It was too early in her grieving process to be seeing death at all, let alone death right in front of her. It didn’t matter what kind of processes the people here went through, she needed to leave.

It was Pelle who convinced you both to stay. He apologized, assuring you both that nothing like that would happen again soon. It was part of the world he grew up in and didn’t think he needed to protect you from something he saw as normal.

You waited for Dani’s go ahead. When she said she would stay, so did you.

Then came the pairing.

The elders gathered everyone around the table again. They had a scroll out in front of them and you stood next to Dani, teetering back and forth on the balls of your feet. Pelle assured you there would be no deaths here. This was about the rebirth of those who had just died, the children that would be had from the couples paired together. You looked around, wondering which people had been waiting for this their entire lives.

Then your name was called.

Pelle and you.

Ingemar and Connie.

Then other names you didn’t know, people that had lived here their whole lives. Your eyes were still bursting out of your head from the time they brought you and Pelle up, gave you intertwining floral headgear and showed you to one of the private cabins.

Simon was still yelling from outside about Connie, wanting to drag her away, unsure of the reason she had been chosen. Dani watched you go but couldn’t grab you. She wanted to give you a thumbs up but didn’t have the heart to, unsure if you were going to die the second you were away from her eyeline.

When you were inside the cabin you took off the flower crown. You placed it on the bed halphazerdly., turning to Pelle.

“Okay, what the fuck is this?” you questioned. “Ingemar has a crush on Connie and now they’re paired together? What is this Pelle? Please.” He approached you and you didn’t back away. You still felt safe with him, even after all the things that had happened. You truly believed he wouldn’t hurt you.

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He put his hands on your arms, trying to center you. “They pair up some of the visitors every Midsommar,” he assured you. “I had no idea it would be you and I or Connie and Ingemar. They have to pair up some outsiders to avoid any incentuous children, they aren’t doing it from any kind of ill mind.”

It felt weird. In this room, alone, when you had just been in a group housing situation. You already wanted to see Dani.

“This is weird Pelle.”

“I understand it isn’t normal. But they aren’t forcing anything on us, on you. We’ll sleep here but it would be normal, as though we were sleeping a couple feet away in the group house.”

“So we don’t have to do anything right?”

“There will be a few pair games but those are normal. Like…compatibility games. They aren’t dangerous, I assure you. Do you trust me?” You swallowed hard, meeting his eyes. You nodded slowly.

“I think so. Yes,” you promised. He nodded.

“You’re allowed to leave and see Dani and our friends. Don’t worry.”

“What about Simon and Connie?”

“I’m sure Connie and Simon will see each other again soon. There’s no need to worry about them.” You nodded.

“At least they paired me with you. They could’ve paired me with Christian and I could've drowned him in the toilet or something.” Pelle gave you a small laugh. He put his hand on your arm, softly.

“Let’s have dinner alright?” You nodded, following him out of your cabin.

“So it’s like a game?” Dani questioned. “Why couldn’t they put Christian and I together. Maybe then he’d finally think about marriage.”

“You don’t wanna marry that guy,” you said, shaking your head. You were sitting by the gardens together. Pelle was harvesting some food and you watched, for moral support. “Pelle says it’s like a game. Whoever is most compatible at the end gets married.”

“Legally?”

“As legal as this all is,” you said.

“Did you see that Simon left this morning? Without Connie. Hitched a ride,” Dani explained. You shook your head.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Someone took him in the car into town.” You didn't know the guy well but were surprised. They seemed really close. Engaged, if you remembered.

“Pelle?!” you called. He turned around, putting the shovel into the dirt.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear Simon left?” He shook his head and walked over. He was sweating from the sun. His white baggy shirt clung to his chest. You were grateful again that you were paired with him out of anyone, the slight crush growing with the coincidence.

“I didn’t. Who told you this?”

“Ingemar,” Dani explained. “When Connie went looking. Do you think Christian would do something like that?” You wanted to scoff and answer honestly. Instead you met Pelle’s gaze and shook your head, lying.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Pelle extended a hand.

“Would you like to help me?”

“Looks like hard labor.”

“I promise I’ll make it easier. Come.” You reached out and let him help you stand. You glanced back at Dani, who smiled, squinting under the sun.

“You guys are cute. Sure to win best pair.” You rolled your eyes.

“You get to be the maid of honor.”

“The may queen traditionally get’s that spot,” Pelle explained. You raised your eyebrows to her.

“Better get your dancing feet ready.”

“Have you seen Josh?” Dani questioned. She stood in front of your cabin door, concern lacing her voice. You rubbed your eyes. Pelle had let you sleep in a bit, allowing you to skip breakfast and bringing some back. You shook your head.

“No. Not since yesterday. Why?” Her jaw set.

“I can’t find him.”

“Isn’t the May Queen thing today? I doubt he’d miss that,” you offered. “Plus, I have a compatibility thing today too.” Dani nodded tightly. You were right. Josh would show up eventually.

“Can you ask Pelle if he’s seen him?”

“Yeah of course. You okay?” She nodded but she had that melancholy look on her face that was hard to read. You weren’t sure if she was just putting up a front or if she was at all settled. You wanted to ask her more questions but she turned slowly and walked towards the main part of the commune. You squinted in the sun. Pelle passed her while he was walking back from wherever he had gone.

“Are you ready?” he questioned. You nodded a bit.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in.”

“Of course. I want you rested.”

“So what do we have to do? Is it like a sack race or something? Who knows each other better? Quick, what’s your favorite color?” He chuckled. He looked down, intertwining your fingers. You let him, though you were suspicious.

“A tad more serious than that.”

“Pelle…”

“You’ll be fine. I promise.” He was determined to win this one. He had never been chosen for a pairing before but he had seen it happen. The pairs were sent out on the cliff and had to be the last two standing after a scuffle of pushing and shoving.

Ingemar and Connie were removed, after Connie mysteriously disappeared after causing too much commotion. There were only two more couples.

Neither were as strong or connected as you and Pelle.

He just wondered how he would get you up the mountain. Once you were there he had no doubt he could convince you to push for your own self preservation, along with his.

As Dani took a drink of the special tea before the May Queen dance, you drank some offered by Pelle as you started up the mountain.

#pelle x reader #pelle x fem!reader #midsommar imagines #pelle midsommar x reader #pelle midsommar x fem!reader #black balloons tag

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forestgromlin · 2 months ago

Text

intro post!!

blog where i reblog stuff: @forestgromlinreblogs

card thingy:

warning: this is very long, and i will probably update/edit it as time passes

Basic Stuff

call me: bee

minor

pronouns: she/they preferably, it/its sounds cool but i haven’t tried them enough, tbh any are fine idrc

sexuality: lesbian oriented aroace, specifically aegoromantic

also:

adhd

autistic

speak english and spanish, am learning french, asl, and maybe norwegian?

i have a cat named Socks! i love her <3

Interests

books:

harry potter (I DO NOT SUPPORT JKR)

little women

anne of green gables

the hobbit

lotr (need to finish the 3rd one still)

pjo

musicals:

newsies

the great gatsby

hamilton

six

shows:

the owl house

she-ra and the princesses of power

bluey

good omens

music:

taylor swift

conan gray

cavetown

laufey

boygenius

phoebe bridgers

maisie peters

plus many more!

i don’t like movies lol

plus random stuff:

the marauders!! (harry potter)

tea!!

coffee!

drinks in general!

languages! all that funky stuff*

gremlincore

music <3

candlessss

in choir and musical theater! (i’m a mezzo soprano, but i sing soprano)

cats

fanfic

uhh i do art sometimes

writing is cool but i have 0 motivation ever

MUSIC

music!!

baking!

im one of the people that saw tumblr stuff on pinterest before joining tumblr

im very friendly online and would be happy to chat!! feel free to tag me in whatever

*grammar, linguistics, etymology, etc.

tag system

#bee’s thoughts - random original stuff, ramblings, thoughts, questions, etc

#bee’s ultimate quiz - i make really hard quizzes about myself and y’all get to see how much you know about me!

#bee’s song of the day - i’m gonna try to do a song of the day everyday!! feel free to remind me if i haven’t posted one lol

#bug!! - @musical-dash-trash

#rye bread!! - @kutie106

#lucy! - @chickencentaur

#rin! - @rins-batcave

#laceyy - @theodditylacey

#patch! @toooster

also @ all of my moots, i love y’all!!

#about myself #personal #intro post #bee’s thoughts

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 4

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Mentions of car accident (resulting in death), trauma reactions, talk of family dynamics, plenty of secrets still being kept. Summary: Time spent with Allison and the coven is becoming more frequent, but a surprising time alone with Max is what will be on your mind for a while... Notes: Apologies for any errors that I missed in this chapter, my dears. I'm still on the mend so I admit my editing isn't quite up to par. I hope you enjoy anyway! 🧛‍♂️ This week we've got a photo of the upstairs sitting room in Dolly's lovely mansion.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

The next few days, Max stays away. Confused as to why he had decided to spend Mabon as a bat on your shoulder during a witch's celebration instead of doing vampire things. He had missed a few parties in some neighboring cities but once he had gotten there, he hadn't wanted to leave your side. Something that was not Max. That, and now he's getting weird looks from Mrs. Taylor. As if she is waiting for him to tell her something and he doesn't know what the fuck that is. So instead of interacting, he stays away, concentrating on work.

It’s made the atmosphere in the house a little more tense than it needs to be, something which you’re so unfortunately used to that at first you find the tension more comfortable than everyone’s kindness. It’s not new to you, to have a man in close proximity who barely speaks to you, so you begin to adjust to the idea that Max just doesn’t like you very much.

******

"What is with you?" Eddie doesn't bother knocking, making Max scowl as he looks up from his magazine.

"Can't a man get a little privacy?" He grumbles, slapping the pages together and huffing at the other vampire. "What the fuck did I do now? I've been busy and on my best behavior."

“You’ve been sulking most of the time and extra snarky the others,” Eddie observes, coming fully into the upstairs sitting room where Max had been reclined on a sofa with his copy of GQ.

"I've been perfectly fine." Max sniffs, rolling his eyes and opening the magazine again. He has no interest in being questioned. "If someone takes offense to being busy, that's not my fault."

“You’re avoiding her.” It’s pretty obvious to the rest of the household, to the point where even Mr. Finchley had noticed and commented on the situation.

"Who?" Max asks, as if he isn't aware of who Eddie is referring to. As if he hadn't consciously rearranged his schedule so he wouldn't run into you.

“Dolly.” He’s not afraid of you overhearing this little exchange because you’re currently out with Allison getting a driving tour of your new island home, so he doesn’t bother closing the door behind him when he plops down in his favorite armchair.

"Come in. Make yourself comfortable." Max grunts sarcastically, shooting Eddie an unhappy look. He would rather the other vampire be anywhere else other than bothering him. "Since when is not dancing for the little human being rude?" He demands when Eddie doesn't move, just lifts a brow at him and waits.

“You haven’t even been eating dinner with us.” Not that it hasn’t made time for plenty of light conversation, but it still makes Eddie frown. “At least eat with us tonight? I think she feels like she did something wrong. Like you hate her.”

He doesn't want to. Doesn't want the feeling that rides under his skin when you are near. Like an itch he couldn't possibly scratch, even if he tore his skin off. Still....the idea that you would think you had done something wrong sits like a stone in his stomach. "I don't know her." He reminds Eddie. "How could I hate her?"

“I didn’t say I thought that,” the other vampire reminds him. “But she’s obviously been through some things and reassurance doesn’t hurt.”

Max huffs, wanting to say something snarky about needing reassurances, but then he remembers how happy you were that night around the fire. You had stroked his little bat wings and petted him while laughing and talking. He hates the idea of you slipping back into the shell of the quiet mouse you had been when you arrived. "Fine." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I'll make an appearance. Happy now?"

“Yes, thank you.” Eddie isn’t above using a little guilt here and there to make progress with Max, mostly because he knows that his fellow vampire has a surprisingly big heart carefully packed away under those bespoke suit layers. “I’ll let Mrs. Taylor know. She’s got a big bowl of that Italian chocolate pudding she makes with blood chilling in the fridge downstairs.”

"Oh thank god." Max wrinkles his nose. "I've been getting bored with take out." He smirks at his own little joke and looks back down at his magazine. "Now if you don't mind...."

“Looking for fashion tips for the coven’s masquerade?” Eddie lifts himself from the chair but doesn’t make a move to leave, teasing Max instead. “You know those are costume parties, right?”

Max's eyes cut over to Eddie, narrow and suspicious. "No." He snaps. "When do I have to be looking for fashion tips?" He asks, letting go of one side of the magazine to gesture to his resplendent outfit. "Maybe I'm trying to figure out how to tell you that you dress like a sad virgin." He shoots back with a pout. He's wondering why the hell Eddie would mention a coven function to him. Not like he had plans to attend.

“90s grunge is cool again,” Eddie informs him with a smirk, not bothered for even one second that Max is being pouty again.

"Go away." He rolls his eyes and flaps his magazine again, trying to ignore Eddie. Finding one of the outfits in the magazine perfect for the party but purposefully turning the page.

“Aww.” Even tutting, Eddie is laughing when he turns away. “Somebody’s got a vein in his fang. Don’t worry, Maxy. You’ll be cool one day, too.”

"Fuck you too!" Max shouts after the annoying vampire. It was a shame that he kept telling Max that he couldn't kill Eddie. Apparently having a soft spot for the annoying little shit.

Eddie chuckles all the way downstairs, going to tell Mrs. Taylor that Max will be returning to the dinner table tonight, but surprised to find the housekeeper standing in the China pantry with you — and for Allison to be there too. “I didn’t even hear you come home,” he hums, looking around at the three women. “Enjoyed your drive?”

"Oh!" Allison jumps, startled by the appearance of the cute, young looking, vampire. She's aware of his nature, Cookie having told her a few years ago. "I—" She flusters slightly and looks towards you. "I think he was talking to you and not me."

“Both of you,” Eddie clarifies, thoroughly enjoying the way Allison blushes in surprise. He’s always found the little witch to be beautiful, and is glad you made friends so quickly.

“It was really nice.” You’re standing in the room with Allison and Mrs. Taylor, arm looped through Allison’s as you chatted over having the next coven meeting here at the mansion. “Alli took me to a clam shack in Middletown for lunch and we drove all around the island.”

"Flo's." Allison tells Eddie, shrugging like it was the only place to take you. "Thought she should be familiar with the area. Learn where to go from a local."

“Perfect choice.” Not that he ever really wanted to eat there — not with how typical human food tastes to vampires — but because he sees that both humans have come home happy. So clearly, the choice was perfect. “Don’t let me interrupt. I was just coming to tell Mrs. Taylor that Max decided to be social for dinner tonight.”

"Decided?" Allison tilts her head in confusion and looks at him questioningly. "Has he been unsociable?"

“He’s been busy.” There’s no reason to talk about it, so you hadn’t mentioned it while you were out, but now you shrug. “I mean it’s not like we’re close, or anything. He’s not beholden to a big family dinner. That would be silly.” Silly for plenty of reasons – not the least of which is the fact that you’re not family at all.

Allison frowns and is about to say that there's no way that he would do that, but she catches the way your shoulders round slightly and stops herself. "Well, that just means he will have plenty to talk about tonight."

“Sure will,” Eddie predicts with a smile, having noticed the same thing as Allison. “I’m glad you ladies had fun.” Despite having been a vampire for decades he’s still fairly awkward around beautiful women and Allison is no exception to that rule. “I’ll leave you to it,” he decides, excusing himself to head back upstairs to his mountain of homework.

"Well, he ran off quickly." Allison doesn't know quite what to make of Eddie, he is normally running off before they talk for too long and it leaves her feeling a little off kilter.

“Doesn’t want to intrude on coven business, I expect.” Mrs. Taylor smiles, knowing full well that Eddie has had a little crush on Allison Wetmore for years. “Eddie used to dabble, you know? When he was younger.” When he was still human, is the underlying clarification, and Mrs. Taylor gives Allison a meaningful look. “Sometimes I think he misses it.”

"Really?" Her eyes widened in surprise and then drift back towards the door he had left through. "Well, he could always still dabble, if he wanted to. There's no rules against it."

“I can mention it to him,” you offer, seeing the way Allison softens at that idea and honestly envying it more than a little. You would give anything to feel softness and romantic longing for a good man again. Instead of the all-encompassing self-doubt and fear that you’ve been left with. The only thing you feel softness for right now is a bat. “The next coven meeting is going to be here anyway. There’s no reason he can’t join us.”

"You don't have to do that." A discreet look at Mrs. Taylor ends up with the older vampire simply shrugging her shoulders, having no input on the idea.

“There’s no reason he can’t join us,” you repeat with a smile, having no idea of the extremely real reason that so many other witches the world over would have a very big problem with the idea.

Mrs. Taylor smiles and nods. "Now, have you decided which china you would like to use?" She asks, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand. "It would really depend on the theme that you are wishing to have."

“We’re going to be planning the Samhain Masquerade, so…” A small huff of a laugh comes out of you. “Did Cookie have anything with bats or Jack o’lanterns or broomsticks on it?” You know the question is ridiculous but you’re in a fairly good mood for the third day in a row and that’s fairly miraculous.

Although she purses her lips in thought, Mrs. Taylor finds it amusing that you would be so like the woman you had never met. "There are two sets." She admits, walking over to one of the walls of cabinets without glass to display the wares. "Ms. Cookie had an odd sense of humor that would be perfect for a Samhain Masquerade."

“Are you serious?” It had only been a joke, and yet Mrs. Taylor is pulling out two different sets of dinner plates — one rimmed in spider webs and skulls and ghosts and haunted houses; and the other with a clean black rim and old fashioned scenes of witches and hauntings and magic in the center. “Oh my gods!”

The housekeeper’s laugh is loud. "That was the exact reaction of Ms. Brown when she opened the crate with the dishes." She admits as you carefully take one of them to examine. "Her soulmate was always on the lookout for things that she would love."

“They’re fantastic.” The sting in your heart at another even small similarity between and a woman you never met makes you ache for some reason. “He sounds like he loved her very much.” The story that Allison told you is still in your head, but vampires? That’s still just too outrageous.

"Their love was never a question." Mrs. Taylor murmurs softly. "If there is one set that you like more than the other, we will use that set."

“What do you think?” Giving Allison the choice since she knows the coven better makes perfect sense to you. “We could probably even mix and match if we wanted to?”

"Personally..." She tilts her head and smiles as she looks down at the plates. "I think that the ones with the pumpkins are perfect."

“Then that’s what we’ll use.” They’re all perfect, so you’re happy no matter what — and what the coven will like is far more important to you anyway.

"We can save the other china for the next one?" Allison asks. "If you decide to have another next year."

“I’m sure we will.” Somehow, with as much as you doubt yourself on other things, you don’t doubt this. Like reviving the legacy of the masquerade ball is simply meant to be.

"Then we will make sure that everyone in Newport wants an invite to your masquerades." Allison declares with a grin.

“I think we could probably fit them all in this house.” You joke, wondering if anyone besides the coven would even come and if you would even care if they didn’t. Having this many potential friends is something you haven’t experienced in years.

“You should go to see some of the other mansions down this street,” Mrs. Taylor insists, sorting through the cabinet of Samhain China. “They’re very beautiful, and quite enormous.”

"We could make it a field trip, if you wanted?" Allison jumps on the idea with a grin. "Get a few from the coven and make a day of it?"

"Are there really that many to see?" So many of the gates up and down the street were marked private that eventually you had stopped thinking that any of them might be open to the public at all.

"They will be just as soon as you tell the people answering the speaker that you have some of Mrs. Taylor’s famous cookies." Allison snickers. "Even if the homeowners aren't there, the staff will do anything to get a box."

"Oh, now, hush." Mrs. Taylor would blush if she could, but as it is she waves her hand at Allison as though she might be just too pleased for words. "I'll see that Renee gets a stack of tickets ordered for the Preservation Society and you girls can go whenever you'd like. Just come on back here for lunch in between, alright?" There is a not-so-small chance that the vampiric housekeeper has dearly missed these larger parties and is taking any excuse she can find to encourage you to make friends. Not so small at all.

"You know your cookies are coveted." Allison hums with a smile before she turns to you. "What do you say, Dolly? Does that sound like something you'd like to do later on this week?"

"Absolutely." An invitation – any time spent with new friends – warms you right from the tips of your toes all the way through the top of your head. "I've never seen houses like these before, it sounds like fun."

"Ohhhhh." Turning her eyes towards the older, vampiric housekeeper, she bites her lip. "Is there any way that we could possibly borrow some period clothing?" The witch asks with a grin, knowing that it would appeal to her immensely. "We could do the tours dressed up."

"Of course, dear." Mrs. Taylor nearly vibrates with excitement over the question, answering immediately and putting the box of dishes aside in her eagerness at the suggestion. "I will sort through some of the older things on the third floor and bring them down for you all to look through tomorrow?"

“What do you think?” Allison turns to you and wants to know if you would like that. “Is that something you would like?”

It isn't something you would normally do, but something in your gut tells you yes. To go for it. That it will be fun. "What the heck?" You shrug eventually, throwing up your hands. "It could be fun."

“Yes!” Allison pumps her first in the air. “You won’t regret it.” She promises before she checks her watch. “Shoot. I have to get to work. Call you later?”

"Sure." Accepting the quick, tight hug for as long as it lasts, Allison is quickly flying out the door again and off to the races, leaving you with Mrs. Taylor and her knowing smile in less than a flash.

“That one is always busy, says it keeps her in high spirits.” Mrs. Taylor tells you as she pulls out the rest of the china. “Would you like a tea service or would you rather wait for dinner?”

"I'll wait, if you don't mind. Lunch was big." Having nothing but leisure time has been odd even if it has only been a few days, and for a moment you have nothing but envy for your friend and her busy schedule. There are things you would love to do, but just can't bring yourself to think about for the time being. "I think I'll read until dinner, if that's alright."

“Of course.” Mrs. Taylor doesn’t remind you that you are the one who sets the rules, just nods and smiles. “Ring the bell if you need anything.”

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I will." There is nothing that you could need badly enough that it would make you call for the staff, but you appreciate the gesture of being reminded. You would never want to inconvenience them like that, so you'll enjoy your afternoon with your book until dinner and then quietly enjoy your absolute top guilty pleasure reality show on television tonight. That would be a perfect cap to a lovely day.

******

The fact that Max checks his appearance in the mirror has nothing to do with seeing you at dinner. Nothing at all. He’s a vain man and enjoys the fact that the modern day mirrors allow for his reflection, since they are not backed with silver. Making sure that his hair was perfectly in place, he amuses himself by letting his fangs grow, making sure there was nothing in his teeth. Wondering what you would do if he let them show at dinner.

At five minutes to seven you’re down in the dining room, not wanting anyone to ever have to wait for you or to cause any problems. A lot has gone on these last few days, but a routine is starting to emerge that you feel like you can attach to. The soothing breath of fall is helping but it’s not exclusively that. The freedom you’ve been allowed is almost terrifying, so it’s not that either. It’s the small routines that are making you feel more at ease, and the reliability of those things showing you that you can rely that Mrs. Taylor and Renee – and even Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley – will take care of things by sticking to their routines. Even Eddie has the routine of school and always sitting down to dinner with you. It’s only Max who is a wildcard, so you are trying very hard not to let his variability affect how you approach your day. Tonight begins your one true indulgence, and you will be damned if you let Max’s variable mood ruin it for you. You’ve been looking forward to this. It’s all you have left of some things that are long since past.

At seven Max strolls into the dining room. “Well, this looks like a marvelous evening.” He says with a small chuckle. “Miss me? I’ve been very busy.”

“It’s been a few days,” you nod once and pick up your lemonade, noting a taste of something herbal in it that you can’t quite identify. “I hope you’ve gotten things done?”

“Always.” He smirks, sending you a wink even if he doesn’t want to wink at you. “Plenty of deals done. Gotta burn that oil to get in good with the bosses.”

"I hope it works for you." Not having to suck up to horrible bosses is something you've considered an enormous fringe benefit of not having to look for a job in your new town, but Max seems to enjoy – somehow – the hustle and bustle of the office.

“So far my numbers don’t lie.” He boasts as he drags out his chair and flops down, somehow making it look elegant. His eyes roam over your face and it’s obvious that you’ve relaxed, your eyes brighter than before and you look happy.

“Have you…seen Eddie?” There are only two places set tonight and no sign of the other young man in sight. While it’s unusual it’s not exactly concerning.

Max knows that is happening and he frowns. Little shit obviously decided that you could stand to have a one-on-one dinner. “I think he decided to go out.” He tells you. “Take out.”

“Oh. Sure. Of course.” The whirring cogs in your brain immediately reinterpret that as ‘he is avoiding you because you’ve done something wrong or upset him’ and even though you have absolutely no evidence for that you can’t shake it out of your mind as Mrs. Taylor comes in with the first course.

Max huffs when there’s just water again, no goblets of ‘wine’. He needs one of those drink cups with a straw to bring to the table. “Think the kid’s trying to get laid or something.” He shrugs and glances down at his plate. “No, it was a study group. I was the one trying to get laid in college.” He tells you with a chuckle.

You have no trouble believing that whatsoever, but pointing it out seems like bad form, though. “Eddie seems very serious about school,” you observe instead. Thinking about Max like that is surprisingly easy and you immediately shock yourself trying to imagine if he has chest hair or not. That is not a helpful thought.

“He should be.” Max frowns seriously, picking up his spoon and sliding it through the blood soup Mrs. Taylor had made him. You have tomato soup in your own bowl. “Honestly, I’d be mad if he wasn’t serious.”

“You would?” From the man who just said he spent college trying to get laid, you can admit to yourself that that is surprising to hear from him.

"Of course I would." He spoons up a sip of the blood soup and slurps it happily. "Don't want the same thing to happen to him that happened to me."

“I thought you had your MBA?” The thick, creamy tomato soup that Mrs. Taylor made for tonight is wonderful, and you can already tell you’re going to be craving it with grilled cheese on chilly days.

He sighs, his face twisting in anger. "No thanks to fucking Vanderbilt." He hisses, still angry after all this time that they had not even attempted to listen to him. He had not cheated. He was a lot of things, but a fucking cheater in school hadn't been one of them.

“You went to Vanderbilt?” The way you almost drop your spoon in shock is about as telling at the way your mouth hangs open, but you manage not to let the utensil clatter or make a mess.

"I did." He snorts. "Until they fucking kicked me out for something I didn't do."

“I—I’m so sorry.” It’s clear he’s still angry about it, whatever it was that happened, and you back down from asking questions instantly. An angry man is never ever a good thing, especially when they’re strong. And Max definitely looks strong.

The way you clam up instantly makes him regret showing his true emotions. His shoulders relax and he adopts a slightly smarmy smirk. "Not that I didn't do anything wrong..." He admits. "But banging my roommate's ex-girlfriend was my only crime. Evan just…he was a fucking twerp."

“They…kicked you out for that?” You knew there was an Honor System when you were at school but that seems like taking it to a rather incredulous degree, to you.

"Nope." He takes another sip of his soup. "I was accused of 'academic dishonesty'." He even uses the air quotes. "Little shit had access to my computer so he made it look like I was stealing my essays from him. And he uploaded some test key from one of my classes onto it."

“Gods, he actually framed you?” That’s a whole lot of dedication to disliking someone and you fidget slightly in your seat, wondering when this all happened. You have no idea how old Max is or how old he was in college. “I’m…I’m really sorry. That’s awful.”

"Yeah....of course no college in the states would take me." He tells you. "Had to get my MBA in Romania."

“I…” A spoonful of liquid sits in your spoon, untouched, as you debate finishing your sentence. “I…went to Vanderbilt, too.”

"No shit?" Max huffs, looking impressed. "What year?"

"I was Class of 2011." There is a brightness there, in remembering college, that you don't have with a lot of other things, and the smile on your face is genuine. "It's hard to believe it was so long ago."

"Oh shit." Max's brows shoot up and he shakes his head. "I can't - you were there at the same time. I was - well, would have been, Class of '09."

"Shit..." Even if the curse slips out on its own, it's honest. And you sit back in your chair in surprise. "The school isn't that big. How did we never meet?"

"Somehow I don't peg you as a business major." He teases slightly with a grin. "Although....were you in any of the sororities? I was always at those parties."

"I wasn't exactly a sorority girl." That is a fairly large understatement, but you get the feeling that he wasn't being serious anyway. "I was a classics and anthropology double major, But I...spent most of my extra time dancing." It's been a long time since you have been in a studio, or last took a lesson, but that's where you spent every ounce of free time when you were younger. Dance was like breathing. It was just part of who you were, but it was never going to be your profession.

"Dancing?" He tilts his head, spoon halfway to his lips and he tries to figure out what you mean. "I mean, where do you dance, except at a party?" He asks, wondering if you were one of those ballet types.

The sting in your heart is still there, despite it having been a lot of years since the last time you were in a studio. "I used to do ballroom competitively," you tell him, finally taking that spoonful of your own soup all the way to your mouth.

Eating your soup stops you from seeing the way that Max nearly chokes on his next spoonful of the warm blood soup. Catching himself before you look up and schooling his features back to polite interest. "Hmmm."

"Yeah, it's not the most popular, necessarily. Or something that a lot of people dabble in." It wasn't as though you had taken jazz or tap, or any of the types of dance classes that the theater students favored. You hadn't even tried out ballet. For you, it had always been ballroom or bust. "But...I enjoyed it. A lot."

"Good for you." Max tells you. "Everyone needs a hobby and it will be handy when you are throwing those parties that Mrs. Taylor is nearly creaming herself over."

"Max." The way you say his name is full of -- to the surprise of both of you -- chastising disapproval. And while that in and of itself isn't necessarily the surprise, the surprise is that it almost feels playful.

He chuckles, smirking at the shocked expression on your face, as if you can't believe that just came out of your mouth. His own return of your name is playful, bantering.

“She seems glad to have things not changing too much, that’s all.” To have reminders of Ms. Brown has seemed to make the housekeeper very glad, and who are you to put an end to that?

Max frowns for a second. "Are there things you want to change?" He asks, wondering why you sound proud that you haven't made any waves.

“Not…not particularly?” In truth you haven’t thought about changing anything at all, so you can’t really say. “Change isn’t always good.”

"Change can be great though." Max argues, even though his tone is still playful. Still making sure that he doesn't somehow hurt your decidedly tender feelings.

"It can be." Sometimes. Rarely. Although this change -- the decision to accept the inheritance and move north -- has been a good one. "But to be honest? Everything is so different here that I don't mind just learning the ropes."

He hums again and quickly finishes his soup before Mrs. Taylor comes in to bring the next course. "I'm sure you will fit right in. The old battle ax is rigid in her schedule." He looks up at the older housekeeper and winks at her playfully.

She says nothing, but raises one eyebrow at Max as she picks up the soup bowls from both of your places and sets down plates instead. You don’t look upset at all so she’s taking it as a good sign for your conversation.

He smirks when you don't comment, instead staring at your plate like it fascinates you. "She's not going to bite." He promises. "You at least. Me? She's wanted to bite me for years, but I'm just not the type of man to be the 'other man'." He leans closer. "And between you and me? I think Mr. Taylor might be able to take me."

Years ago you would have teased him about being the kind of guy who claimed to be invulnerable, but not anymore. There may still be playfulness in you but the sass is pretty much gone. "Housekeeper isn't a vampire but her husband might be. Got it." You joke, instead of getting too heavy with anything. The story that the coven told you at Mabon is obviously still on your mind.

Max freezes for a moment before he shoots you a grin. "That's the spirit."

“I didn’t realize vampire stories were so popular up here.” At this point it’s just conversational and you pick up your fork for your second course. “Is it a regional thing? Allison was telling me about…Mercy Brown? I think that was her name.” The local vampire story from 1892 had been another tale related to you at the Mabon bonfire.

Max chuckles. "Vampires are extremely popular around here. As they should be." He adds, picking up his butter knife and pointing it at you as he educates you. "They are the superior creature in every way that counts."

“Oh?” That seems…characteristically cocky coming from Max, so you don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s his opinion or nothing. “If you say so.”

"Think about it." He hums. "Immortality."

“I’d go for magic being real before I go for immortality,” you tell him honestly. There hasn’t been anything about your life worth living forever for in a long time.

"Ouch." He rubs his heart like you hurt him. "I guess that's why you're a witch." He pouts at you before he picks up his fork. He's also noticed that you don't eat unless someone else does and you need to eat. Your stomach is growling quietly.

“I was raised a witch.” There isn’t any reason to share so much with him but you can’t seem to stop yourself. It’s like a compulsion. “My parents were witches, too.”

"So it's like...a family thing." He nods as he takes a bite of the steak tare-tare that he had been craving, groaning quietly at the taste.

“Very much so.” Though your family history is a little complicated, you can see unequivocally that the title of Witch is hereditary.

"That's cool." Max shrugs slightly, looking down as he scoops some more of the next course on his fork. "I don't think I could claim something like that. Parents disowned me when I was kicked out of Vandy."

“I’m sorry to hear that.” With your own loss being what it is, you can certainly appreciate the feeling of being on your own. “My parents died the summer before my freshman year.”

"I'm sorry." Max doesn't mean many things when he apologizes, but he does mean this. "Really."

“Thank you.” There isn’t anything to do about it now, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it then. But you do appreciate the sympathy. “I know it isn’t the same thing, but I understand being on your own.”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t have an answer for that. He just nods and reaches for the water to wash down the food.

Stony silence fills the dining room and you understand immediately that you've overstepped. Your situations aren't the same and you shouldn't have compared them, and now he's upset with you. Having a man upset with you, though, is unfortunately something that you're intimately familiar with, and even though you shrink in your chair you know what to do. Just sit with your mouth shut and eat your dinner, making sure not to make eating sounds that will bother or anger Max for the rest of the meal.

Unfortunately, it seems like you are the worst at someone staying silent and you clam up like you've just been scolded. Max wants to bridge the gap, to get back to the somewhat easy banter you had been having. "Dead parents, as good as dead parents." Max shrugs his shoulders. "What are you gonna do, am I right?" He cracks a smile. "At least yours have a good reason for abandoning you. Still sucks though, and I'm sorry. How did they go? Shootout with police? Exploding cauldron?" He's being purposely ridiculous to see you smile. Hopefully.

“Car accident.” You can’t really tell if he’s trying to lighten the mood or making light of your parents’ deaths, so for your own sanity you have to choose to believe it’s the former. “An eighteen-wheeler hydroplaned in a thunderstorm and rolled over onto my parents’ sedan and another car on the highway.” It’s been long enough that you can talk about it without instantly crying, but only just. “Truck driver was the only survivor.”

"Fuck." Max winces and he blows out a breath in a very human-like exhale. "I'm so sorry. That's a lot to deal with when you're that age, any age really." He adds. "What were they like?"

“I don’t think kinder people have ever existed.” You tell him honestly, fork in hand but not actively eating while you think of your parents. “They were soulmates. Met during a summer study abroad program in London. My dad had just started college the year before and my mom was taking a gap year because she didn’t know what she wanted to study. After they met, she applied to the same college he was studying at and…they were pretty much inseparable after that.”

Even though his heart no longer beats, something twists in his chest at the mention of soulmates. He had never gotten to find out who his was. Despite his playboy attitude, when he had been in college, he would have dropped everything to be with that girl. No more serial dating or being a flirt. He had wanted the soulmate bond that his parents had shared. “That’s sweet.” He tells you. “At least….” He clears his throat. “At least they went together so they didn’t have to lose each other to death.”

“That’s…kind of what I’ve settled on…” Agreement with Max is an odd feeling, but you too had settled on neither of them having to be alone at the end as a good thing. Any solace you could give yourself at the time was extremely necessary. “Do you—? I mean…your parents…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask, or even what you’re asking, but it feels rude not to ask at all.

“What?” He asks, not sure exactly what you mean. “Wish I could see them?”

“I was going to ask if you had checked up on them,” you admit, looking down at your plate. Max must not like duck, you reflect, since his dinner is something different tonight. “Sometimes I wish I knew the rest of my family just so I could check on them. See if they’re happy. But that’s silly.”

“I saw them about three years ago.” Max admits quietly. “From a distance. They made it very clear they had no interest in a cheater and refused to believe me. So….” He shrugs. “They made their choice. Being told your parents wished you were never born is a relationship killer.” He hadn't been able to resist going back and seeing the people who had given him life, but he had just watched from the car for a few hours before leaving.

“I’m so sorry.” Somehow it never occurs to you to ask if he is actually guilty. Someone so proud of his achievements doesn’t seem like the type to cut corners to you, and the fact that he still seems so hurt by it is the other large piece of the puzzle. If he were truly that person, it would not have left such a mark on his heart. And just like that— the wall you had up around yourself to keep out Max Phillips begins to crack.

******

Dinner had finished with much lighter subjects being broached. Finding himself watching as you relax more as the night goes on. The seemingly heavy burden of fear and manners slowly slipping off your shoulders and instead of being weighed down, your spine straightens. Body starts to uncurl from the center and open up. He had excused himself, like a gentleman. Wishing you a nice night and disappearing quickly. Unsure of why he's so fucking protective of you and not liking it at all. He had thought about turning into a bat again. To seek you out, but instead, he finds himself roaming around the halls of the mansion like a ghost.

It’s silly. You know it is. But to still have silly things to hold on to at this point in your life is vital. So you make your way upstairs after dinner and putter in your room for a little while, deciding to change into pajamas before going out to see if anyone is in the sitting room. Eddie is still out and there’s no sign of Max so you slip inside and turn on the tv, allowing yourself to relax and even enjoy tonight. Dancing with the Stars is silly in a lot of ways. But sometimes, for the people competing and for you watching, it can mean a whole hell of a lot. It’s a window back to happier days, and that is something you are grateful for.

The noise is what attracts him. Hearing the applause draws him from the remote areas of the house. As if pulled by an invisible string. His feet quiet as he draws closer to the light flashing from the sitting room.

“Live, from Hollywood! It’s Dancing with the Stars!” proclaims the host loudly, and you sink back into the presumably antique sofa with a happy sigh. The little things — like reality tv — aren’t always so little. Next week, you think, you’ll have to make popcorn.

Reality TV? His head tilts and his eyes widen in surprise as he comes into the sitting room. Unable to believe that you would watch something as trivial as this. He had pegged you for a Lifetime movies girl, or maybe the Who Done It channels that constantly played murder cases.

“Max!” The last thing you had expected was company, and your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment when you realize he’s smirking, like he’s on the verge of laughter. “Did—uh—did you want to watch tv?”

"Sure." He immediately starts to shrug out of his jacket and unbutton his vest as he walks around the couch. "What are we watching?" He asks, like he just didn't hear the announcer. It had cut to commercial and he wants to see what you say.

“I—uh—” Your complete intention had been to surrender the television to him if he wanted it. The idea that he might want to join you had never even crossed your mind, so when Max plops down on the sofa beside you, you feel like a deer caught in car headlights. “It’s…Dancing with the Stars…” you let the truth out without even thinking. It’s not even worth lying about, since you’re the worst liar in the world. And what would the point be, anyway?

"Hmmmmm." He is impressed that you just admitted what you are watching and he glances over at you with a grin. "Does it make you nostalgic?" He asks.

You nod, a melancholy smile grabbing your lips as you twist your fingers on the edge of your sweater. “Yeah. It does.”

"Who's your favorite this season?" He asks as he settles deeper into the couch. "Any favorites yet?"

“Only one couple has danced so far, so I’m not sure.” The fact that he’s asking, that he’s not just teasing you about it and walking away, makes you want to just about throw your arms around him in a grateful hug. But since that would be extremely weird and you can’t even fathom the urge, you just smile a little wider instead. “Alyson Hannigan is on this year, though. Even if she’s not very good, it’ll be fun. I—I was kind of a Buffy kid growing up.”

Max snorts, chuckling quietly. "Yeah but it was so predictable." He tells you. "Every week Buffy would be up against some bad ass who she easily defeated."

"That's because Buffy was a badass," you counter without hesitation.

He huffs, pursing his lips in a pout and smirks when you just raise an eyebrow. "You mean there wasn't one vampire you didn't secretly want to live?"

"Spike did live." Did you love the enemies-to-lovers arc that Buffy and Spike went through? Abso-fucking-lutely. Some of the shine had come off of the adversarial relationship since, but you still see the appeal in feeling like you know the real someone they keep hidden from the world.

Max rolls his eyes. "Spike wasn't that great." He huffs. "He wasn't."

"Oh no?" That makes you smirk a little, and you shift on the couch to face him better. "You preferred Angel, did you?" Angel would be the more sentimental choice, and that actually is a bit of a surprise. You would have thought Max would be more into the snarky badass vampire character.

"Angel had a personality." Max insists. "There was the conflict of good and evil inside him. That's better than just....eye candy with spiky white hair."

"Spike got his soul back, too, ya know." Having a debate about a supernatural television show from your childhood isn't exactly where you saw this night going, but Dancing with the Stars is still on commercial and seeing Max get worked up about something that doesn't lead to anger is actually kind of fun. "And he could sing."

He rolls his eyes at your rational and tuts. "Whatever, you just thought he was hot." He's oddly pouty about that fact, since he's the opposite of what Spike looks like. The show starts back and he points at it. "Watch the damn dancers." He grumbles.

"I liked that he improved himself for the person he loved," you clarify quietly, but turn to face the tv again like you've been told.

Max sighs, feeling bad for getting snippy about a fictional character and watches for another moment before standing up and walking out of the room.

The second it happens you can feel yourself curling in again, embarrassed and vulnerable and mortified that he's upset with you. Maybe, you tell yourself, trying not to get so upset that you cry over the fact that Max got up and walked out of the room -- maybe he's just not into dancing. That wouldn't be the end of the world...

"You're a fucking idiot, Phillips." Max berates himself as he zips down to the kitchen, using the speed he couldn't show if you were nearby. "You know she's fucking sensitive and more than likely abused. And yet you fucking get moody with her."

Mrs. Taylor had been clearing up the last of things from the day's work and starting on a little preparation for tomorrow as well when she heard Max in the kitchen. Some of the clothing that she had pulled down from the third floor needed mending and she has a needle and button in hand while Max talks to himself and she hears cabinets open and close.

"Fuck." He shakes his head and throws the popcorn in the microwave. "Okay, snacks, what kind of snacks does a human like while watching dancing?" He asks himself as he starts to pull out crackers and search for something sweet. You seemed to like that. He figured he would apologize with a little snack tray while watching your show.

Smiling to herself, Mrs. Taylor slips across the hall from the sewing room and leans in the kitchen doorway. "She likes hot chocolate," she murmurs, arms crossed and an expression of pure amusement on her face.

Max looks up guiltily and swallows. "Oh, uh, okay." He shrugs when he looks back into the cabinet and grabs the box of deluxe hot chocolate mix. "She wanted snacks." He lies. "Something about being peckish. You know humans."

"Sure, sure." The housekeeper doesn't buy that for a second, knowing that you would never ask for anything. Even after only a few days, she knows that. "Humans."

"Right?" He huffs and rolls his eyes, grabbing the milk and pouring it into the cup to froth in the espresso machine. It would be the best way to scald the milk and make the richest hot chocolate. It's the way he had made it when he was a barista in college.

"There's whipped cream in the fridge." Mrs. Taylor hums, pushing off from the doorframe with a knowing grin. "Enjoy your night, Max."

He grunts, watching the milk scald very carefully before he scoops the cocoa powder into the milk and stirs vigorously to mix it together. Cursing to himself when he realizes he didn't get a mug out, he sets it down to grab one of the big cocoa mugs and delicately pours it in, using the foam to finish the top before he moves to the fridge to grab the whipped cream and a bar of chocolate to shave over the top.

He barely manages to get it all done before the microwave beeps, but he does get it. The popcorn is buttery and salty just the way humans like it and the cocoa is exactly the way he would make it in his barista days.

Carrying the tray up the stairs takes a little bit longer than it would have without it, so he doesn't spill anything. The covered cup for himself is filled with a blood mixture, so he can 'participate' in the snacking. "So what did I miss?" He asks when he walks back into the sitting room.

The look of astonishment on your face when he strolls back I should be plenty enough to tell him that you didn’t think he was coming back, but you manage to sputter out that Alyson Hannigan is about to dance and nearly melt in sheer shock when you realize that he not only came back — he came back with snacks.

"Good, I didn't miss it." He sets the tray down on the coffee table and picks up the hot chocolate and saucer to hand to you. "It's hot, so don't burn yourself." He cautions as he looks at the tv with interest.

Careful not to fumble the cup as he sits down beside you again, you must look like a dope with the little smile of surprise in your lips but you can’t help it. “You didn’t have to do this…”

"Mrs Taylor." He lies with a small shrug. "She insisted. You know, housekeepers." He rolls his eyes for dramatic affect. "If they aren't making things perfect, they aren't happy." It wasn't Mrs. Taylor at all, but he won't admit that it was him even if it's completely obvious it was a lie.

“If you say so.” You nod, though you know just from looking at the cup that Mrs. Taylor didn’t make it.

"Popcorn?" He offers, holding up the bowl. "I - Mrs. Taylor - figured you were a popcorn kind of girl."

“You were right.” Even if he hadn’t given himself away, the tray would have. Mess. Taylor never would have forgotten a napkin. But you dip your hand in the bowl after setting it on the couch between you, and you just smile. A wide, genuine, personal smile.

Max huffs, settling in the cushions with his own cup and focusing on the tv. You didn't reject his tray, or think that it was a shitty idea, so that's good. "Oh, she looks hot." He hums as the couple starts to dance.

“She’s very pretty.” The costume is bright and colorful, fringe and sparkles everywhere, reminding you of so many teenage competitions. When you were growing up your mother swore that everything you owned had sparkle.

"Oooooh." Max winces and takes a sip of his drink. "That's gonna cost them." He predicts as he watches the first misstep of the routine.

“Familiar with ballroom salsa?” You ask, surprised to hear him have any comments at all beyond the costuming. Max is meticulously well dressed, so you had figured that would be the most amusing part for him.

"I just- uh, heard the crowd react." Max tells you, cutting his eyes over to see if you believe him or if you are suspicious.

“It’s okay to say yes…if you do.” It makes you wonder if he really would find it so terrible to have something in common with you.

He blows out a sigh and contemplates lying but apparently he is obscenely bad at lying to you. "I might know a thing or two."

“Did you…ever dance?” It’s equally possible that he dated a girl who danced, or even that he has a friend who he picked it up from. There could be any of a million reasons, and you’re not quite sure why you’re hoping for one over the other.

He closes his eyes and blows out another breath. "I've....danced." He admits slowly. "Comp...etitvely.

“Well I’ll be damned…” That was not what you expected to hear, and the smile on your face creeps a little bit wider than it had been beforehand. “So you know exactly what you’re watching.”

“Her timing is off a quarter of a beat and his arms are not rigid enough.” Max breaks it down as he watches. “The first quarter turn was sloppy and he’s letting her lead.”

“Salsa’s tough for a beginner. She’s got to build her confidence in herself and in him.” Going for a few pieces of popcorn, you can feel yourself relax around him to a whole other degree. “Don’t you remember getting your first competition partner? It was terrifying.”

“Yeah.” He can’t tell you that everyone had spent countless hours practicing before that began. A side effect of not needing sleep.

“When did you start?” Finding this common thread is a revelation for you, and as the judges critique the performance on screen you almost don’t even care that it’s on now.

“In Romania.” He admits. “You had to take an elective and since I was there late…” he shrugs. “Ballroom dancing it was.”

“You must be good, if you started relatively recently but got all the way to competitions.” For you, ballroom had started early. It had been your entire childhood, in a lot of ways. Coven meetings, trips to the library, and baby ballroom.

“A lot of practice, but I have natural grace.” He boasts with a small wink.

It’s bragging, of course it is, but this time it doesn’t run you the wrong way like it has at others. It’s just…like he doesn’t want to admit how much it means to him. “Sounds like you would put that ballroom downstairs to good use.”

“Depends on who I’m dancing with.” He teases. “I don’t think Mrs. Taylor would dance with me.”

“You don’t have a partner?” As soon as it’s out of your mouth you hear it — the sound of you accidentally asking him if he’s seeing anyone when what you meant to ask was if he had a competition partner. And yet? You are curious. In a backward kind of way…

It seems like the question is more loaded than just a dancing partner and he shrugs. “Not for a long time.”

“I hope that changes for you.” It’s meant to be cordial. Slightly more than polite. That’s all. You swear that that is all you meant. The twist and pull vibrating through you and making your stomach turn to knots is far beyond what you swear to yourself that you meant to ask. “I-if you want it to, that is.”

Max nods. “Been a long time since I’ve danced.” He admits. “College.” While he had enjoyed it a lot more than he would ever admit, he had people to prove wrong. The grand ideas of showing his parents how wrong they were and getting revenge on Evan had taken priority and ended up making him lose everything. Even his connection with his soulmate.

“It’s never too late for a second chance.” Your father’s favorite advice, this time, as you sip the cocoa that he made for you and hum in utter bliss. It’s better than Mrs. Taylor’s, but you’ll never tell. “And thank you for this. It’s…really wonderful.”

“Can’t watch a guilty pleasure without snacks.” Max scoffs. “It’s a crime.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be arrested for a lack of popcorn,” you hum, picking up a few more kernels.

He snorts, grinning at you before he takes another sip of his own drink. “Nope. I don’t think orange is your color.”

"I'll trust your judgment on that." You tell him with a smile. "I think you have better fashion sense than me."

"You should start wearing eccentric outfits. Play up the ‘strange owner of the mansion’ bit." He chuckles.

“It takes a lot of courage to be eccentric.” Something that you had once — wearing princess dresses in school pictures and dressing up in wild ballroom costumes — but it’s been a very long time. Too long. All that confidence got lost along the way.

"Fuck it, you're rich." Max shrugs. "Who gives a shit what people think about you?" He asks seriously. "They don't feed you, fuck you or pay your bills."

“So whose opinion do I care about, then?” You ask, half-serious and half-intrigued by the idea, even though you know you don’t have the guts to follow through with it. “Mrs. Taylor is the one who feeds me now, so just her?”

"Those you care about." Max explains like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Some rando on the street doesn't mean shit. Who gives a damn if that person thinks that you're strange or you shouldn't wear three-piece suits?" He tells you as an example. "You like the way they are cut, how you look, better yet - how you feel wearing them." He might be projecting slightly, but he reels it back in to focus on you. "Those that care about you and you about them, they just want you to be happy. And if dying your hair fuschia and wearing a dress from 1892 while rocking combat boots? They'll love it."

“That’s…very good advice, Max.” And surprisingly sweet. Sweet enough that that invisible wall cracks again, but you don’t voice the thought that it’s been a long time — too long — since you had anyone who truly cared about you like that. And that you’re too terrified to your very core to hope that any of the people you’ve met so far in Newport might grow into that sort of person.

"That's me." Max winks playfully. "Full of good advice and sound investment choices." He teases, just to see if you roll your eyes or get embarrassed.

“I’ll remember that.” Instead of doing either thing he expects, you fluster slightly and turn back to the tv, wondering why you’re having butterflies over something so…Max.

The rest of the show is surprisingly entertaining, both of you offering your opinions on the routines and even rating them. By the time it's over, you're obviously sleepy from the extra snacks and the hot chocolate. Max hums as he looks over and turns off the tv. "You should go get ready for bed, Dolly." He urges you. "I can clean this up."

“I liked Queenie, too,” you hum, smothering a yawn as you reach to put your cup and saucer back on the tray but Max is faster than you. He obviously means it, which means far more to you than you can say. “Good night Max. And thanks for…you know. Everything.”

"No problem, Queenie." He hums, grinning that you like his nickname for you. "Goodnight." You stand and walk out of the room, his dark eyes on you the entire time as he tries to discern why he has the greatest urge to follow you and tuck you in.

Teeth brushed, face washed, and the day stripped away, you climb into bed in your tank top and cotton pajama pants without bothering to look in the mirror. Once you might have stopped, inspected the marks that adorned your skin from the person that the universe decree was the other half of your soul— but they disappeared years ago. Now, alone, you tuck your blankets around you and breathe in the fresh fall air from your open window, hoping that the racing thoughts won’t keep you up and you can end a pleasant day on a pleasant note.

******

He moves like a wisp of smoke. Silent, nearly invisible when he wants to be, which is often. It was how he was so good, instinct and talent can only take you so far. His skills honed through centuries of use. The fact that he was so good was why he was gifted, or cursed, with immorality. He uses it now. Slipping through the halls unseen. Even passing by his protegé without being noticed on his way towards his goal. A single room. A single person. Asleep and vulnerable in her dreams. His teeth flash in a smile, sharp and deadly as he anticipates seeing you again.

Dreams don’t always come anymore, and they certainly don’t come easily when they do. More often stuck in your nightmares, you’re grateful for dreamless sleep. Tonight though, as your head hits your pillow, your unconscious mind has a different destination. The little farmhouse in Indiana where your bedroom was painted sunshine yellow and all your favorite dolls are lined up on the shelf beside your Nancy Drew and Magic Treehouse Club books was always the setting for encountering your invisible friend. Though he visited you everywhere, he would always make sure to tuck you in at night and wish you sweet dreams. Words of kindness and encouragement from a man with curly hair the color of your father’s coffee and a voice tinted and coloured by travel to places unimaginable and beautiful. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in your dreams in longer than you can remember…but his eyes still crinkle in the same kind way…

Standing at the foot of your bed, he observes you. You're different. Obviously. He's not seen you since you were a child. Unable to because of the power magic of your mother. The spell binding until death. While the loss is bittersweet, he greedily takes note of the curve of your cheek and length of your lashes. Frowning slightly when he sees the way that you seem worn, the weight of your life's challenges weighing you down. He steps closer, leaning down and brushing his hand over your hair gently. Touching you with an almost tender yearning and the slight undercurrent of sadness.

The flashes in your dream are slight at first — showing you a great whirling of people and bright colors in amber light with vibrant music in the air. Catches of the image seem familiar but you can’t place them, until you hurry out a side door of the room to step out onto a small porch to a sprawling garden, and you recognize the grounds of the house where you now live. A hand on your shoulder. A soft voice in your ear, thickly accented but familiar.

"What do you think, muñequita?" He asks, gently. "Is it pretty enough for my little doll?"

“It’s beautiful, Yayo.” It’s been so long since he appeared in a dream of yours, yet the moment he does you recognize him instantly. Your sleeping mind has always welcomed him. “Unbelievably beautiful.”

"My greatest dream has come true, my sweet girl." He hums, his fingers curling around your shoulder in a comforting embrace. "Having you here."

Without hesitation, your head finds his shoulder and you welcome the comfort of his frame, feeling his presence even in the dream. Even when you know he isn’t real. In the dream he is as real as you are. “I’ll stay here forever then.”

"I hope you do, muñequita." He sighs, smiling at the thought and turns to press his lips to your temple. "It is my greatest wish. That's why I brought him here for you."

“Who, Yayo?” The embrace feels like being wrapped up in the best hug in the world. (edited)

"It will be obvious soon, my sweet." He promises, kissing you again and inhaling your scent. "Te amo, muñequita." He murmurs. "Te amo."

“Te amo, Yayo.” There is no doubt or hesitation in it. The friend that stepped into your dreams as a child has always defended you, and reminded you through far away memories that the world is vast and mysterious. That so much is possible. It is only the last few years that have made you lose sight of that.

Standing straight, he smiles as he tucks your covers up over your shoulder. Happy that he has seen you again and reached out to you through your dreams. You are no longer the young child that would believe he is your imaginary friend. Stepping back, he watches you sleep peacefully, his muñequita.

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #deceased parents #vampires #spooky season

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