#surprise undertaker appearance

[badassturtle13]

Finished watching Cody’s Wrestlemania match (yes I know I’m behind, I watched Seth’s skipped to Cody’s and still have the rest of Night Two) and I’m so happy he did it!!! ALSO I WAS NOT EXPECTING THE FUCKEN UNDERTAKER TO APPEAR?!?!! Otherwise I loved that match so much it was so good and entertaining. So happy Cody would finish the story

But side note hilarious that Damian cashed in on Drew. With CM Punk clapping as he watched chaos unfold. Drew should not have gone after CM Punk, maybe he would have been safe and kept the title. (Damian and Judgment Day might have dragged him back to the ring.)

[sassyfever]

Now that the new mini arc is finally starting Imma make a couple predictions. Angelina is now a bizarre doll and ✨coincidentally✨at the hotel. Grelle is also there. For drama's sake you know how it goes.

[twisted-broth]

A Human's Touch

Mr Gap x Reader

(Anything in bold is other world language)

It had been a while now since you had returned to the other world. It was hard to tell time here, but at least you knew that this was where you belonged. It was almost laughable to think that you once tried to leave this place.

You would never admit it, but you really owed a lot to the shit eating grin that always manages to pop up whenever you need him. Even now, with you life no longer in constant peril, he pops up somewhere nearby quite often. It could be from the crack of your closet, inside your bag, or a random hole in the wall that you swear wasn't there before. As annoying as Mr Gap was, he was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He would even bring you things from the human world if you asked. For a price, of course.

You sigh as your "friend" holds one of your favorite books from the human world just out of reach. He was playing his favorite game again.

"Give leg." He demanded.

"Give foot." Was your counter offer. Most of your body parts would grow back, but it takes longer for bigger parts and more complex organs. Luckily there didn't seem to be a word in their language for liver or spinal column.

His expression twists for a moment, but the smile quickly returns. "Yes." He agrees.

The pain that radiates from your ankle would have made you pass out a few months ago, but now it only elicits a stifled grunt. You snatch the book from Mr. Gap's hand as he smiles at the newfound treasure that appears in his grasp. You sigh once more and put the book to the side before pressing an already bloodied towel to your ankle.

With the bleeding successfully stopped, there was nothing else for you to do but lie in bed while you waited for it to grow back. You spared a glance towards your new book, but couldn't muster the energy to read it. The isolation of this world had been wearing on you. You had been spending time with Mr Silvair and Mr Chopped lately, but there was another recent earthquake that blocked off your path to them. You had yet to find the time to search for a new one.

With an arm draped over your eyes, you fell back against your threadbare pillow. The covers rustled around you, giving away the presence of another with you.

"Why sad?" You opened one eye to look down at your covers. The face of Mr Gap blended in with the darkness above your legs. If he had a body, he would be nearly lying on top of you. The part of your brain that was still human couldn't help but think that some actual physical touch would be nice.

"I one. Sad. Friend not here." Elaborating on the concept of loneliness using a lexicon of 100 words wasn't really a task you wanted to undertake at the moment.

You had thought Mr Gap would either leave or laugh at you, but to your surprise he looked confused. "I here." He responded.

Now it was your turn to be confused. If you weren't mistaken, he seemed almost offended that you hadn't called him a friend.

"You friend?"

"Yes." If this language had some equivalent of 'duh', you imagined that would be what he would say instead.

All you can do in response is blink at him. You really never imagined that Mr Gap would hang around you because he considered you a friend. If anything, you thought he just saw you as a an endless stream of various body parts. "Thank you. I like friend."

Hesitantly, you lifted a hand to reach up and stroke his head. He looked mildly disgusted (which was often his expression anyway), but didn't react otherwise. His hair wasn't exactly pleasant to touch- it was greasy and weirdly damp in places- but at least it was something of what you had been missing. He continued to humor you, but you decided not to push your luck on how long he would allow you to continue touching him.

"Why touch?" He asked when you were done.

"Human like touch. Make sad go away." It wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, but you figured it would get the point across.

Hesitantly, one of his arms reaches out from beneath your covers. Your current working theory was that his arms just appeared whenever he needed them, but you haven't gotten around to asking him yet. Your positioning is a bit awkward, so he can't reach your head to return your pats. Instead, he pats you on the shoulder for a few seconds. His hands are cold and clammy, but those few seconds of touch are something you've been missing for a while.

You smile. Mr Gap could be annoying at best and cruel at worst, but it would seem that he does have a sweet side to him after all. You distantly wonder if some semblance of a normal relationship would be possible here. Unlikely, but it may not be as out of reach as you once thought.

"Thank you. You good friend." You said after a beat of silence. For a moment it appears like he isn't quite sure how to feel about your declaration. You don't imagine it's something people tell him often. After a second of thought, he returns your smile.

"Me good friend. You give heart?"

Well, you can work on that.

[baeksqt]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 - aitana bonmatí

aitana bonmatí x fem!reader

(a/n: oooh guess who’s posting a 6 month old piece dedicated to her boo, yep me, hopefully this doesn’t feel so long winded -_-)

word count: 918

genre: fluff

The trumpets of soft jazz accompanied your hums whilst your face sat inches away from your bedroom wall. With a slight ache in your back and a steady hand, you meticulously painted, the paintbrush moving over the same spot repeatedly, while your glasses slowly slid down the bridge of your nose.

The task of painting a mural for your newborn niece's bedroom, as requested by your sister, was no small undertaking. Utilising your time after work to visit, despite the demands, and hopefully make some decent progress. A week had passed and now, once again, you were sitting hunched over adding details. With your loyal Irish terrier, Dulce, sleeping soundly in your lap, occasionally stirring whenever you shifted positions.

The tranquillity of the bedroom is interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. You look to your left and the corners of your lips upturn. Seeing your girlfriend Aitana standing at the door, her hair in her usual relaxed ponytail, dressed in comfortable grey sweats.

"I thought you might have snuck Dulce in here with you." She quipped with a soft chuckle, looking at her watch as the clock hit 8:30pm.

You start to shift in your seat, intending to get up and greet the Barcelona player, before realising that Dulce is nestled between your legs, letting out a low grumble of disapprovement. You quickly settle back down, opting to stay put.

Aitana stood quietly behind you, her gaze fixed on the mural taking shape before her, the adorable zoo scene slowly coming together as you filled in the giraffe's spots. Above your head, you heard an approving hum, and then Aitana's encouraging voice, "You're doing well, chica. It's looking good!" She leaned in to examine the baby elephant on the wall. You release a doubtful sigh as you painted but your girlfriend was having none of it. "Don't be like that, amor meu! You're almost done." Aitana patting your thigh as she was now sitting next to you, "You don't know it yet, but your sister is currently bragging to her friends about you on the phone." Throwing you a knowing glance before resting her head on your shoulder.

You pause for a moment, the paintbrush resting lightly in your hand, looking up at the colourful, vast wall. As your eyes roam the wall, they come to rest on your girlfriend, nestled on your shoulder, her eyes closed in a state of wakefulness and slumber.

"I can hear your thoughts from here," Aitana mumbles quietly as you carefully set down your paintbrush, lifting Dulce out of your lap and glancing over at her. She stirs slightly, still half-asleep, and then continues, "relax." Her voice is gentle but firm as you unintentionally wake her from her short slumber as you stand up.

As Aitana observed, you stretched and vigorously mixed paints together in an attempt to find the perfect shade of blue. She then turned to the bedside table and quickly retrieved a new paintbrush.

"What can I help you with?" Aitana asked with a slight smile. You look up at her bewildered, surprised at her sudden involvement, considering that she hadn't shown much interest in the mural in the last couple of days.

"Uh...well the butterflies in this corner still need to be completed," you used the end of your paintbrush to point at the lightly sketched butterflies that fluttered across the wall, "that is, if you can reach." you teased your girlfriend.

Aitana, now pouting, threw a miserable glance, not taking kindly to the playful jab. "There's a step stool by the crib." you motioned to the oak crib behind the two of you.

"...Or I do the butterflies and you can finish the tiger—" you began to offer.

"No, no. I'll do the butterflies! I can reach perfectly fine." a smug look appeared on Aitana's face, turning away from you to retrieve the step stool.

As you and your girlfriend focused intently on your respective sections of the mural, time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Idle conversations about work and football filled the air until you suddenly became aware of Aitana approaching. With a mischievous grin on her face, she swiftly swiped her paintbrush across your cheek, leaving a streak of pastel pink in its wake.

"Lighten up, chica!" she planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach you.

Surprised and amused, you quickly retaliated by dragging your own blue-coated paintbrush across Aitana's forehead, eliciting a playful squeal from her. Dipping your hand into your palette, preparing to imprint your handprint onto your girlfriend's sweatshirt, before being interrupted by the sudden sensation of paint being splattered across your shirt.

You both gasped, meeting each other's wide-eyed gaze, recalling the mural that overlook you. "Aitana!" you hissed, scanning the mural in a panic for any paint splashes. "Amor meu, it's completely fine!" Aitana pointed at the mural with a smile.

"Completely—" the Barca player's expression fell as she ran her index finger across the pastel blue background of the wall, leaving a harsh pink line across, almost touching the giraffe. "Fine." You finish her sentence, blinking twice, hoping the mark would magically disappear.

Before either of you could say anything more, the knock at the bedroom door caught your attention. You turn to see your heavily pregnant sister standing in the doorway, a hopeful smile sitting on her cheeks before catching the sight of you and your girlfriend from your shenanigans.

"The mural's not done isn't it?"

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental (Part 1)

Yazan loved learning about new medical breakthroughs. As a doctor, he spends a lot of time understanding how new technologies are being tested and introduced that help make his patients' lives better and healthier. He mostly found it interesting learning about the newest ideas. As soon as it says "first" in the research paper title or news report, he was right on it.

So when he saw a research paper from an Australian team that said "first experimental pregnancy in a man", he looked at it with both intrigue and concern. Clearly men shouldn't get involved in something so.. feminine, he thought.

Of course, when he read the paper, it explained that the researchers at the University of Sydney's School of Medicine were only able to confirm viability up to 3 weeks of pregnancy. They explained that the hormonal changes required for the pregnancy to continue in a man would be so overwhelming that it would cause harm to the man, and that is without considering that it would be medically an ectopic pregnancy from the get-go. Suffice to say, it's medically dangerous, and emphasised as such by the researchers.

Oh well, good try, Yazan thought.

A couple of weeks later, an email popped into Yazan's inbox about a conference in Sydney, and a request to present there. He actually had never been to Australia before, especially with how expensive flights and everyday costs there are, so he took the chance and agreed to present.

Yazan finally made it across to Australia and was able to present his new research in haematology, while also taking in the sights and experiences of Sydney. One night, he stumbled across Oxford Street, the hub for queer culture in Sydney and home of the Mardi Gras parade. He grabbed the first high table he could see at the Oxford Hotel, and just observed people going about their fun Saturday nights while tucking into a steak.

He saw someone eyeing him from the side, and when he turned he saw a beautiful man. Although he was short, he appeared built like Yazan. He had short brown hair, a square jaw and light stubble, but didn't appear stoic or aggressive like other men. This man slowly walked towards him and sat in the seat next to Yazan.

"You're Dr Yazan, right?"

"Yeah... and you are?"

"Mike! I think I saw you at the conference in Darling Harbour today? Well done today!"

Sure enough, Mike was sitting and observing Yazan's presentation, but also for other reasons. Mike was part of the Australian team that researched male pregnancy. He had been developing a form of hyper-concentrated hormonal medication that would allow a pregnancy to remain viable for longer than 3 weeks in men, but was a long way off small-scale animal testing, let alone human testing. Mike was getting worried the research would be wound down by the university, so was starting to think about ways of getting the research to speed forward, without the university's immediate knowledge.

And he knew exactly what he wanted to do...

"So, that's the general gist of what I've been researching on..." Yazan said. "I kinda need to pop to the bathroom quickly.. do you mind looking after my meal, please? Feel free to have some of the fries!"

"No worries!"

Show time. Once Yazan was out of sight, Mike grabbed a small vial of what looked like salt flakes, but were actually some of the experimental hormones. They looked almost exactly like the coarse salt already on Yazan's steak, so it could work, Mike thought.

"Here goes nothing..." Mike sprinkled the salt all over the steak and the fries. At the very least, his food will just be very salty.

"Hey there, thanks for that!" Yazan said as he got back a couple of minutes later. They ended up continuing their conversation about the research they were respectively undertaking. Yazan asked about the fertility trials Mike helped with, including the male pregnancy trials, but made it very clear he wasn't surprised with the outcome.

The talking slowly turned to flirting, especially after Yazan finished his meal. He started feeling quite flustered, and vaguely horny. Of course, it helped that Mike was one of the cutest Aussies he had met here. Eventually, Yazan took off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt.

"Looking good, doc" Mike said with a wink.

"If you want to see more, want to come back to my hotel?"

And with that, Yazan and Mike sauntered their way from Oxford Street, across Hyde Park towards Sydney Town Hall. Mike took his chance and reached towards Yazan's hand. Yazan latched on without question.

Once they got to Yazan's hotel room, it was almost instant how quickly they got their clothes off each other. They were like two horny rabbits going at it, and they were at it almost all night. Yazan felt such a rush of energy throughout the whole time, and never once felt tired or spent. Mike wondered if the hormones were doing their thing, but those thoughts were overruled by the fact he was fucking the hottest doctor in town!

Each time, Yazan urged to be the bottom, which he found unusual as he normally is the top. There was something about Mike that just made Yazan want to be fucked by him.. maybe it was the muscles hidden under Mike's suit? All Yazan understood was that he needed to be fucked now through any means.

They woke up the following morning, the bedsheets sprawled in every direction on top of Mike and Yazan. Mike woke up with his dick still in Yazan, and still rock hard. Sure enough, it appeared that Yazan was still eager to go when he started waking up and felt Mike still in him.

"I could honestly keep going all day, Mike. I feel like I'm 18 years old all over again!"

"Really?"

After one (or two) more loads in Yazan, they finally moved into the shower. Yazan's abs had become slightly misshapen from how much Mike came in him. It was a bit surreal for Mike to see, because it really did look like he was pregnant.

What have I done, Mike worried.

***

I haven't done this in quite a while, but finally getting around to getting the first part out of a longer-form story I've been thinking about. Let me know your thoughts!

[lanafofana]

Afforded A Chance

Day 2 of #HalsinTavWeek AND WE'RE BACK BABYYYYYYY Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Special Guest Appearance: Yenna! Summary: Tav realizes she wants something. Halsin is all too happy to provide. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tags: Smut, Porn with Feelings, BREEDING, PnV Sex, Quickie sex, Domestic Fluff, Post Epilogue No Beta We Die Like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link! For those of you who are so inclined. Note: Lots of talking and feelings and ooey gooey stuff in this one, fam.

Watching the cart disappear into the distance Tav reminds herself that this had always been the plan. 

Fifty children was an ambitious undertaking for anyone. While they loved each and every single one of their charges, Halsin and Tav had always known and agreed that for the majority of them, their home was but a stepping off point to get to the family they were destined for. 

Still, watching the infant she had cared for so deeply and for so long, being swept off into the proverbial sunset with her new mama and papa left an ache in her empty arms she couldn’t shake. She swallows roughly, wiping the tears from her face and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Walking back home Tav’s already tender heart feels a keen sting when she spies the newest couple to their little community. The wife is a sweet young thing, barely an adult herself but newly married and swollen with child already. She looks tired, waddling along with her hand on her belly, but healthy. Happy. Tav was happy. Is happy. Of course she is.

And yet.

Tav murmurs a greeting as the pair pass, stepping off the well trodden path to give them space to amble by. 

Fifty children they may have started out with but the numbers had dwindled significantly over the past year and now with sweet baby Marigold gone to a new home that put their occupancy at home down to a much more manageable ten. Manageable, some might say, but to Tav it felt like sand drifting through her fingers. 

The youngest was an ornery little tiefling boy, freshly five, and the oldest was just shy of sixteen with plans to seek an apprenticeship soon. Tav was not in any way dissatisfied with her life. She finally had a home and family to call all her own after so long without either. There was no way to describe the feeling she got from just being able to be present, nurturing them, and loving them. Her greatest joy and sense of purpose was deeply rooted in simply basking in watching her children grow with the love of her life at her side. It would be incredibly foolish to covet any more than what she had been provided with. 

And yet.

At home the house is quiet. The children spend every possible minute they’re allowed out in the forest during the day. Whiling away the hours of youth playing with Thaniel and Oliver till, exhausted and hungry, they reluctantly troop back to her. At any rate they’re not home yet and the house feels desolate. Yet another finger pressing on the bruise of Tav’s melancholy. 

When she finds her lover he’s in his study, sorting through his never ending pile of correspondence. Unlike her, he is conscientious about not letting a letter go unanswered too long and she is loath to steal away his time. 

And yet.

Halsin stands, grabbing a book off the shelf behind his desk before perusing the letter in his other hand once again. He seems to be puzzling out an answer to a specific question, his brow furrowed and his lips puckered in thought. The entire effect is so domestic it soothes some of the grief from before and lingering in the doorway Tav takes a breath, gathering her courage. 

“I want to have a baby.” 

The book in Halsin’s hand promptly drops to the floor. He stares at Tav in surprise, mind completely wiped clean of all coherent thought.  

“With you,” she amends when he remains silent. 

The expression of surprise slips into something gentle and soft. “Is this about Marigold?” He frowns, picking up the book to put it on his desk and shakes his head with a shine of regret in his eyes. “I should have gone with you. I’m sorry, my heart. That parting was destined to be perhaps the most difficult of them all. I know how deeply you loved her especially.” 

Tav crosses the room and takes one of his large hands in hers. “I am sad she is gone but I am also happy she is where she is meant to be. They will love her well. I,” she swallows. “I know the timing of this might seem odd. But it’s not just because of Marigold my mind has turned to…to this.” 

“To having a baby,” Halsin clarifies, his tone strange.  

“Yeah,” Tav avoids his eyes while she struggles to translate her errant feelings into words.

Her thumbs stroke the warmth of his hand in hers absently. It never ceases to amaze her that to simply feel his skin against hers, chaste or otherwise, had become an anchor for her. When the storm of her thoughts threatens to unmoor her she merely has to turn into his embrace, and she is put at ease. 

“Some might reconsider the toils and labors of bringing new life into the world when their home is already bursting with shoots and sprouts aplenty.” 

Tav smiles and brings his hand to her face, brushing her lips across his knuckles. “When have we ever shied away from toils and labors? Or balked at adding fresh life to a garden well tended? With these hands to hold me and lend me their unerring counsel and strength, I know we can do anything. I want this…with you… if you do.” She sobered as another thought occurred to her. “But we walk this path together. If you do not–” 

“Oh but I do,” he growls, hands finding purchase on her hips as he crowds into her space. “I very much do.”

The kiss is sudden and fierce; a tangle of tongues and teeth that steals her breath. Hands cupping her ass he lifts her, directing her legs around his hips. When they part for breath, Tav stares at him in wonderment.

“I honestly wasn’t sure,” she admits with a tiny huff of laughter. Tav scans his face, taking in his barely restrained hunger, the raw desire in his eyes. “You really want this, don’t you?” 

The hazel of his eyes is dark, his jaw tight. “Yes.” He presses his face to hers gently, breathing deeply to quell the rising tide of his lust. “Before the Absolute I wondered if I would ever get to experience the joys of having a family again. I hardly dared to imagine a future with children. And then came you,” he pauses, a breath shuddering through his chest, “and that dream was realized in more ways than I could’ve ever hoped.” 

With one hand Tav threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and with the other she caresses his cheek. Despite the grip he has on her, the evidence of his tightly reigned in passion, the moment feels fragile. When he opens his eyes the depth of emotion there tugs at her heart. 

“When I told you of my hopes and dreams of achieving some measure of balance you supported me.” He punctuates the statement with a chaste kiss to her cheek. “When I found my new purpose here, in this place, far away from everything and everyone you know you didn’t even hesitate to abandon a life of ease in a city that was ready to celebrate you in every way you deserve.” He presses a lingering kiss to her temple. “When you followed me into the wilderness with,” he huffs a laugh, “so many children I began to worry, wondering what I could have possibly done to be worthy of such a person. It was too much. You don’t know what you’ve given me. You cannot possibly know.” 

Halsin turns and sets her down on the edge of his desk, placing his hands flat on the surface on either side of her legs and leans in to steal another, longer kiss.  

“I told you once that I wanted more than to be your companion, your ally, your friend. I wanted to share in your heart and your body. And instead you rewrote my entire life with your name across my very soul. Asking for nothing more than the privilege of being at my side. You don’t seem to know the privilege has always been mine.” It’s Halsin’s turn to cup her face, tracing the branch of scarring that trails down her neck. “I am undone by you.”  

Tav’s eyes burn. 

“I had not let myself even entertain the idea of more. But I know your heart as well as you know mine so let me at last extinguish that ember of doubt in your eyes. Yes. I want this. How could I not? To know that you, who carry my entire heart in your hands, wish to carry my seed and with your body nurture our child.” 

The druid’s eyes flash and Tav feels like she’s stopped breathing. Every nerve ending feels raw and buzzing with anticipation. He’s so gentle and easy going it’s easy sometimes to forget how his gaze can pierce through her. The sound of her thudding heart is so loud she wonders if it’s the wind shaking their home in the trees or the tempest of his love threatening to unmake the world. Halsin’s thumb wipes a tear from her face she had not been aware she had shed. 

“We walk this path together as one. Our hearts beat in sync.” The next kiss is hot, barely restrained passion. When he pulls away their breathing is equally unsteady. “Now let our bodies move in sync also.” 

Halsin grips her hips hard and yanks her body towards himself, to the edge of the desk before claiming her mouth again. Breaking the kiss he zeros in on the spot between her ear and neck, pulling a needy moan so soft and sweet from her parted lips that something primal rumbles out from his chest in response. 

He slides a hand in her hair, fingers brushing her scalp before he fists his hand and tugs her head back eliciting a gasp. Greedily he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, his excitement only fanned by the way she trembles under his touch. 

Tav feels hot from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of each finger and toe. She tugs the loose shirt he’s wearing from the band of his pants but only gets a moment to trace the blazing skin beneath before Halsin is tearing himself away to rip it off.

Her dress is next; he picks her up like she weighs nothing and divests her of the simple frock, the fabric fluttering to the floor while he tugs at the lacing of her stays. He peels the soft underclothes from her body like a child unwrapping their first gift. With great joy, expectation, and–by the telltale popping of a few stitches–a little reckless violence. 

Not bothering to smother the laugh that bubbles up at his slightly contrite expression, Tav slips her fingers through the belt at his waist and tugs him closer with a smile. “I’ll need new ones anyway,” she points out with a sly look in her eyes. “When I’m enormous with your fat babies.”

Halsin’s hand drifts to her belly, hovering over the place where her empty womb waits for his seed to catch and huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “I can hardly wait.” 

“Then less waiting, my love,” she casts a meaningful look to the window where the late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, ”unless you want to give the children a first hand demonstration in reproduction.” 

Halsin grins with mischief but takes her point and pushes his trousers down, freeing his already leaking cock. Despite the aching hunger burning under his skin– the primitive need to fuck, to claim, to breed her till she’s screaming– his touch is soft when he takes her hands and tugs her into his embrace. 

He runs his hands from her shoulders down her arms, to her chest to knead the soft flesh of her breasts. Were he afforded more time he would worship every inch of her soft curves, each freckle, every scar. Alas, time is a luxury for those couples without a full brood vying for attention and the beast within gnaws at his control with teeth and claws. 

He spins her around and presses her torso to the desk, nostrils flaring at the scent of her open cunt, already wet with arousal. She widens her legs eagerly, pressing back into his touch and though he’s had her innumerable times in the same position, it’s only this time, for the first time in a very long time, he feels his tenuous control flicker in and out of his grasp. 

“This will not be gentle,” he thinks to warn her but the look she gives him over her shoulder is anything but meek. 

“Stop talking, papa bear, and fuck a baby into me.” 

Lining up to her wet slit he sinks home with a groan that’s more beast than man. Tav’s head drops back with an answering guttural exhalation. A hand on each generous hip he sets a punishing pace, the sharp snap of his hips, the wet hot suction of her pussy consuming him. His lover mewls a needy whine that snaps his threadbare control and he falls forward with one hand on the desk the other on her neck, pressing her face to the desk and he snarls. 

Pressing into his touch Tav’s trembling voice whimpers and keens, begging for his seed, his body, his child. His rough hands and nearly violent display of ardor has reduced her to a quivering mess of desire. Each thrust of his body into hers, has her gasping, arching, desperate for more, teetering on the precipice release. 

He licks at the sweat on her back and with teeth just slightly too sharp he bites the soft flesh of her shoulder. She cries out, dragging her nails across the surface of his desk, and so he does it again, lapping at the red mark in satisfaction. Removing the hand at her neck he reaches around to palm her breast, raising the top half of her body just enough to set his teeth at the nape of her neck. 

The prick of sharp canines does it for her and she jerks with the release of her orgasm, crying out with a curse and a howl. At the height of her rapture her scent changes and Halsin’s grip on her neck with his teeth tightens in tandem with his balls. As she comes down from her high, the walls of her body spasming around his erection, Halsin slams into her with one final thrust. Face pressed to the sweat slick heat of her body he groans his release at last, filling her up with thick hot cords of his cum.

With great affection Halsin nuzzles her skin mindlessly in the afterglow while Tav lays boneless beneath him, her expression incandescently satiated.

They stay like that for a moment, catching their breath. Conjoined by their sex and luxuriating the culmination of their bliss. 

Until a familiar voice pipes up with intense curiosity, “But what are they doing in there?” 

“Making babies,” answers a disgusted teenager, her footsteps stomping down the hallway past the office door.

Tav and Halsin share a look before bursting into laughter. 

“Daddy Halsin?” Says their youngest, sounding as if he’s talking with his face pressed against the door. “Can I come in and see the babies?” 

“Not just now, my love,” answers Tav with a nearly hysterical edge to her voice. 

“Just a moment,” says Halsin in the same breath and catching each other’s eye, still high off their quickie, they nearly collapse into giggles all over again.  

They scramble for their clothes, wary of the unlocked door but both snickering so much Halsin has his pants on inside out and Tav is wearing his shirt when another voice drifts in.  

“Come on, Ermir,” says Yenna with a no nonsense tone. “They’ll be out soon. Babies take ages to bake.” 

“Bake?” 

“Yeah. Like in Momma Tav’s tummy.” 

“Wow,” whispers Ermir. “How does it get in there?” 

“Ummmm,” says Yenna, stumped. “I think a bird brings it?” 

“Ohhhh.” 

Their footsteps fade deeper into the house. 

Tav, hands on her hips with cum dripping down her leg gives Halsin a shrewd look. “It’s your turn for The Talk, I already had my turn with the older ones.” 

Halsin grins and picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder and swatting her ass. “Anything you say, my heart. But first we should make sure the oven is well stuffed, don’t you?” 

[novasolstarr]

BLEGH Man I was having an unreasonably hard time drawing this bastard what the hell

Uhh still not very happy with these sketches besides the horrible feral one but also my desire to ramble about this version of Arius is overwhelming my need to have better sketches

SO THIS FUNNY BASTARD ALRIGHT Based off of another version if him, therefore I'm gonna be kinda mismatching the two's lore

Gravekeep, Spectator, Undertaker; Z-32 has been assigned several names over the years.

However, most have familiarized themselves with Z-32 to be Arius.

Arius is an anomalous entity that previously was completely unrelated to Urbanshade as a whole. In fact, several attempts had been made to remove Z-32 as a whole. This included luring it out, locking down the facility, trapping it with other entities, and so on. These attempts, however, were stopped after Urbanshade attempted a more violent method and ended up with... a few casualties [sketch 5]. Surviving spectators described Z-32 as being "fearsomely animalistic," which was an unusual change from Z-32's normally docile [albeit, cryptid] nature.

Despite suffering several what should have been fatal wounds, Z-32 seemed to recover without assistance.

The injury exposing the right side of Z-32's jaw is completely irrelevant to Urbanshade. He had arrived at the Blacksite with this wound. Along with this, it would seem that Z-32 has shape-shifting qualities, as several personnel have noted his appearance is not the same as his first arrival. It's assumed these changes are an attempt to better blend in with the fellow entities.

Z-32 gathered its names the "Gravekeep" and "Undertaker" due to its habits of cleaning up gruesome scenes, regardless of whether it's an experiment or personnel. Though normally the task of janitorial staff, Urbanshade higher-ups were not about to complain about the free labor done at an exceptionally spotless degree. For several years, it was unknown how Z-32 so cleanly disposed of the bodies with little to no evidence. Up until personnel noticed Z-32 pull apart its very own chest cavity [sketch 4] and lower several corpses into this opening.

Much to the surprise of Urbanshade scientist Z-32 was not only cooperative but also willing to allow personnel to run a few tests on him. Here, it was noted that the opening Z-32 was superficial, housing normal organs just beneath the skin here. Along with this, the opening itself could stretch from the underside of his jaw all the way to its pelvis. Other additional notes thus far are inorganic objects can be kept within this "pocket dimension" indefinitely. Organics, however, appear to be affected by this strange occurrence, with it being noted that the longer organics remain the further they're degraded. Hours 1-2 had no effect. Hour 3 began to show signs of this breakdown. Every additional 30-45 minutes after this point would break these organics down further until the previous item was completely unrecognizable from a black sludge puddle. Even when contained within an inorganic item, such as a Tupperware box, these organics still decomposed. Unfortunately, it's unknown how it affects living organics, as Z-32 avidly denied allowing such tests to be run. Attempts to force Z-32 to comply were fruitless endeavors.

Information about Z-32's past is just as mysterious as his appearance. He refuses to speak upon himself and even appears cautious not to share such information. Its unknown what this reason could be.

Z-32 has been noted to be surprisingly social, commonly engaging in conversation with other personnel regardless of the individual. Though it has been noted that his body language and speech patterns change regarding the individuals in question. At first, it was assumed to be a morality related issue. Further studying found that he seemed more likely to engage with the more "unfortunate" personnel of Urbanshade. Those who had a lengthy criminal record publicly known or not, mentioned hardships or mental health concerns seemed to be his primary conversators. When questioned about this, he merely mentioned being "drawn to disaster." No further explanation was provided. Urbanshade employees were not the only individuals either. Fellow entities were regular companions for Z-32, seeming to have an easy time communicating with even some of the most unruly of experiments. Younger individuals he spent his time around the most and even appeared parental towards these particular few, noticeably being more easy to agitate when around them. This agitation would never be directed to the younger individuals.

This rambling is getting very lengthy and my brain is exploding again so uhhh.. if anyone's curious about him further, feel free to ask [He's my little mental illness. I love him]

[ohitslen]

Sharing a meal

I wrote something for this below the cut if you’re interested :)

They never eat anything too tasty, surviving with packeted rations and canned food in their journey. Sometimes they would stop at a little restaurant and eat a nice meal; it really tasted like something gourmet after days of going with grain bars and dry jerky.

There were fleeting moments in between conversations in which one of them would remember some dish, from back in the day when things were easier and they didn’t worry about too many things. They never went deeper into the topic, just mentioning how they missed a good meal.

Staying at an inn or any motel was an expensive thing to pay for. However sometimes they had some extra money from an odd job Vash did or from Wolfwood’s undertaker services, and they would always rent a room as a treat for themselves.

It was a surprise when they entered the room and saw a small kitchen. The space was a little too cramped but it had everything they needed, it was like a deluxe room when they though about all the places they had been at. None of them had a kitchen at all, maybe they had a tiny stove or a mini fridge, perhaps a table sometimes but never the whole set together.

They both looked at each other to confirm they really were seeing the thing, smiling excitedly.

They could make a meal for themselves.

Vash knew how to cook, he had done some work on kitchens throughout his life. A few times he helped Rem when he was a child, he knows how to defend himself. Yet he didn’t know any recipes by heart, not any that would be inside their budget at least. He could get creative and probably whip up a thing or two if he was given enough time.

“I know what to do” Wolfwood said with a smile that irradiated a melancholic warmth interrupting his thoughts . A smile Vash had only seen when he talked about the things he loved.

Vash didn’t suggest anything in the end and just followed what the other man told him to do.

He went to buy all the things Wolfwood asked him for. Vegetables and some thoma meat. There seemed to be some spices in the room so he only bought garlic and onion as per Wolfwood’s request.

When Vash got back, he found Nick at the table arranging the ingredients the kitchen already had. He was already showered, hair messy and with droplets of water hanging on the tips. Getting closer, he could smell the soap, the cheap shampoo and the lingering scent of nicotine that never seemed to go away. He was changed into a black, long sleeved shirt and a pair of loose dark blue pants.

His overall appearance made Vash think how the edges of the man were less sharp, he seemed more relaxed and at ease, even if it wasn’t entirely the case. He just looked, soft.

“Hey welcome back, did you bring what I asked you for or will I have to use your meat for this?” Wolfwood greeted him without looking up from his task, the ingredients being the most interesting thing in the world it seemed.

Something warm pooled at the pit of Vash’s stomach, he didn’t know why that was and didn’t bother to think about it either, just enjoying the feeling.

Smiling, he placed the bags on the table in front of Wolfwood, taking out its contents. “I’m sure I brought everything yeah, I hope my life can be spared”.

The priest snorted at him and grabbed a potato that was rolling off the table. “Aight then, make yourself useful and start washing these and then chop ‘em to reasonable bitable sizes”. Losing no time, he took the meat and was cutting it while giving out the instructions.

While Vash was washing and chopping, the other was already preparing the meat putting it in a pot with boiling water. Once Vash was finished with all he was asked to do, Wolfwood ushered him to take a shower while the food was done, wanting to have more space in the narrow place. Vash did as told in that as well.

The shower felt great, all of the gross stickiness from the sweat and other things were finally washed off from his body. He felt light and a thousand times more content.

As he opened the door the smell hit him in the face, a delicious scent that surely tasted even better. Wolfwood was stirring the pot, poking some of the potatoes to make sure they were on the right term, and they seemed to be as he turned off the stove.

Vash got closer, mouth already watering just from the thought of how it’d taste “That smells so good! What did you make?” He asked with a big grin plastered all over his face.

Wolfwood pointed at the table with his hand, signaling him to sit down a little dismissively while he looked for the bowls on his own. It seemed like he was the kind that with less people on the kitchen when he was there, the better. “Just a broth, nothing too wow it’s something easy, and on budget”. Vash hummed with wonder and served two cups of water to busy himself with something.

Wolfwood poured the two servings of the broth, it was still hot and the bowl must surely be scalding. Yet Wolfwood’s calloused hands never flinched, placing their food on the table without much trouble along with a pair of long spoons.

“Be careful or you will murder your tongue” he warned and Vash chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads up chef, ‘preciate it” the other just scoffed at the title and sat down across him .

They both mixed the broth while blowing at it in hopes for it to cool down a little. However seeing how they were both starving and didn’t care too much about getting burnt or not, they just started to dig in.

Wolfwood was eating eagerly, having spoonful after spoonful of his food. He was beyond delighted. It had been a long time since he had the chance to prepare the broth he used to have back at the Orphanage.

“It’s…delicious” he heard Vash say in a low and calm tone. When he looked up to see the man, he was shocked to find him with reddish eyes that were glistening with tears. It didn’t seem like when was doing a show or anything of the sorts, he just seemed…at peace.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, quite possibly one of the most simple dishes Vash has ever eaten. It was made with the things that they could afford with the little money they could spare, the ingredients were definitely not of the best quality, the vegetables could have used a little more time on the pot. And it was delicious.

Vash felt incredibly warm inside, similar to how he felt when Wolfwood greeted him when he got back, just a thousand times stronger. The first sip he had of it tasted like the best thing ever cooked in his whole life, something he would have every day of the year for the rest of eternity. He didn’t know why that was at first, but after having a second spoon of it he could tell what it was.

It tasted like home.

The flavor of it, it was homely, the savor of melancholy. It tasted like their conversations about missing the past. The tang of the times they would have a peaceful night in the desert grilling worm meat around a campfire. It reminded him when he got sick and an old lady had given him a bowl of soup. It tasted like the first time Rem had given them a try of what meat and vegetables tasted like. It tasted like all the things he missed, and the things Nicholas most likely missed too.

The familiarity of it made him feel fuzzy and full on the inside, and he couldn’t stop eating. He was slow while doing it, wanting to savor every bit of what he could have while it lasted. It was rich, it was simple and it was perfect.

“…You want some more?” At some point, Nicholas had already finished his own bowl and brought the pot over to serve himself again. He looked at Vash with something soft in his eyes the other could not name, his voice was gentle and gravely, sweet and easy on his ears just adding more to the warmth inside of him.

“Yes…yes please” Vash answered, voice cracking a little. Nicholas served him, the sound of the liquid being poured soothing his soul.

Vash ate again, and Wolfwood was looking at him. The priest was taking small sips of water from his cup, always holding it against his mouth even if he wasn’t drinking anything. Vash didn’t really notice when he had started tearing up, thick streams of salty water running through his cheeks, a pool of them welling up at his chin and falling down the wooden table making a puddle of happy tears.

Vash enjoyed the heartfelt broth. He was happy, that bit of simplicity was enough to make him forget of everything else and just focus on that moment.

It was so mundane. Vash smiled with overflowing tears in his eyes while Wolfwood just watched with a fond smile of his own behind his empty cup of water.

At that moment, they were not in a random room at a random place. They were in a place where they had brought their home to, sharing a meal with each other.

[bullet-prooflove]

5000 Follower Celebration: Postcards From My Heart - Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.

Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.

Prequel to:

Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.

The embezzlement investigation takes hold when Terry reports the crime to the FBI. He’s spent months trying to untangle it on his own and now it’s gotten to the point where he’s forced to hand over all the details to the authorities or risk looking complicit.

The unfortunate part to all of this is that he has to make himself available to investigators, which means he has to stay in the city while you undertake the gallery tour across Europe you’ve had planned for over a year now.

Ever since the exhibition with the paper airplanes went viral, galleries from around the world have been requesting both you and your artwork’s presence at their venues. They want to discuss the programs you’ve been undertaking and how to implement them in their own locations whilst showcasing your paintings.

You end up going alone and it kills Terry because things between the two of you, they’re still not entirely right after the night you asked him if he was seeing someone else. He’s tried to be more attentive but the embezzlement it’s eating up both his time and his energy. He doesn’t even get to see you off at the airport because he’s trapped in a meeting with federal investigators. You don’t say how much it disappoints you but he feels it viscerally as he tracks your flight right out of his orbit.

He worries that this trip, the distance between the two of you, it’ll be the thing that kills your marriage especially when he misses three of your calls in a row over a series of days. He tries calling you back but with the time difference, you just keep missing each other.

When the postcard arrives his heart sinks, it’s an image of the small chapel where the two of you married in Tuscany. He’s filled with an intense sadness because this was the real reason he wanted to take the trip, he’d been planning to surprise you, review your vows there and then the whole thing had gotten fucked up and now you’re barely exchanging texts.  

By the time the postcard arrives from Paris you’ve been gone almost a fortnight. Terry’s eating breakfast alone, preparing for another lengthy day of depositions when the call comes through.

“Guess where I am.” You say as you appear on the screen and something in Terry’s chest just settles.

After so many missed connections he’s been dreading this call because he’s adamant it’s going to be the one where you tell him you’re done with all of this but then he sees the expression on your face and for Terry, it could light up an entire room.

“Tell me.” He urges, his voice soft and you alter the camera to show him the bench in the gallery where the two of you met. You zoom in closely and there’s a tiny heart with both of your initials drawn in the corner in black sharpie.

“Georgia,” He says fondly. “Did you deface a bench in the Louvre?”

“I’m hoping they kinda take it like a Banksy.” You tell him before turning the camera back so he can see your face. “You know how he just turns up, graffitis something and then disappears. I’ve been doing it everywhere we’ve been together on this trip. I even tagged the church.”

“You did not!” He smiles because he realises what you’ve been doing whilst you’ve been on tour, you’ve been marking your relationship, making it indelible. He can’t describe how that makes him feel, to know that you’ve been thinking about him, that you’ve been leaving the evidence of your marriage on landmarks all around the world.  

“I did.” You assure him. “Right on the pew you got a little handsy that time whilst we were waiting for the priest.”

“You were wearing that white sundress.” He reminds you, propping his chin up on his hand. “Can you blame me for defiling you in a church?"

You blush then, the pink tinge climbing your cheeks because he’d made you come on his fingers on that pew, it had been embarrassingly easy because you’d gotten off on the deviance of it all.

“You look tired.” You say quietly as you settle yourself on the bench. “How are the depositions going?”

“Monotonous.” He tells you with a weary smile. “I feel like it’s taken ten years off my life.”

“Do you need me to come home?” You ask him, the concern evident in your features. “I’m sure there’s a flight I could grab…”

The fact you’re willing to cut this trip short if he needs it, it speaks volumes about your headspace about the relationship, just like your actions have. He can’t ask you to return to him, not when you’re doing such excellent work out there, not when you’re having so much fun.

“No baby girl, don’t come back until you’re ready.” He murmurs before he props his phone up against the salt shaker. “Now tell me more about your travels.”

Love Terry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[blues824]

I need a Male! Reader x Yandere! Vincent, Claude, Sebastian, Undertaker, Lau, and Madam Red in my life! It’d interesting if M!reader were to be extremely cool-headed and always in a dream-like state but aware of what is happening around them and is incredibly smart. They appear sleepy but really aren’t it’s just their usual face. And they’re soul is one in a million that could keep a demon full for years. So to the characters M!reader appears as otherworldly and they are intrigued…

I love Yandere requests for some reason.

Vincent Phantomhive

Poor dear was fearful that you would fall asleep at any point, so it is better to have you next to him at all times. But, he wouldn’t be surprised if you were always sleepwalking, because you lived as though you were in a dream. Well, he may as well be your knight in shining armor, as he needed to protect you.

You could see what he was doing. Ever since he first invited you back to the Phantomhive manor, ever since he offered you that cup of tea. You wanted to wake up, you wanted to fight back, but the poison kept you from doing it. And besides, it would be a far call to say that the Vincent Phantomhive was poisoning you. Even though you were angry, you knew you had to be reasonable. This was your fate now.

Sebastian Michaelis

He had met you when he was going to pick up the young master’s new cane. You were a 19-year-old apprentice, who didn’t seem to have his head back on Earth. The demon breathed in and your soul just smelled so sweet. It was calling to him, to his hunger. Suddenly, Ciel Phantomhive did not have the most craved soul. So, a few days later, he wrote to your master that you were called for by Lord Phantomhive himself, but it was actually him who wanted you there.

As smart as you typically were, you did not see this coming until it was too late. He held you in his arms within the library while the master was busy with his work, and Mey-Rin, Finney, and Bard were all doing their chores. He whispered that you were his and his alone, and you then realized that your mind was steadily growing more and more cloudy. 

Claude Faustus

He typically wouldn’t care about just any human being unless their soul called out to him. But, when he saw you in the bookstore, your mind somewhere in some distant land rather than the present, he could hear your soul. It smelled sweet, and fulfilling, and he could sense that there were other demons around waiting to collect it.

He invited you to the Trancy Manor, where he locked you in a room that was isolated so that no one would be able to hear you. He made sure that the other servants were aware that he was the only one who would tend to that side of the house, and because of his status within the household, he was never questioned. Now, without him by you during the day, you spent your days trying to escape all the while acting as though your head was up in the clouds when he checked up on you.

Lau

You were one of Ciel’s servants, and you caught his attention with how you seemed to be living within a dream. You were operating on autopilot, but you were doing exceptionally well. It was because of you being a tiny bit of a distraction to the man that he was not paying attention to the plan that Sebastian had laid out. 

The next day, you had found yourself in his opium den. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ran-Mao had kidnapped you in the night and brought you to where you were now. You were bound in chains, and led up to Lau, where he had you placed upon his lap. You seemed to be a bit too aware, maybe you just needed to go to sleep. It’s unfortunate that you ended up in an opium den of all places.

Undertaker

You had entered his shop by mistake, and he was surprised because he was not expecting any visitors, dead or alive, that day. It caused you both to laugh, and he had you sit down for a bit of tea before you made your way back. He could sense your soul, and he was aware that he wanted it just for himself. After about the third cup of tea that he prepared for you, you finally sensed that it was a bit suspicious. Of course, you were slowly getting sleepy.

In the morning, you found yourself sleeping in a coffin. You were tied up, but it was open. The Undertaker heard you struggling against the bindings, and he let out a bit of a giggle before peering over the opening of the coffin. You weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but you caught something about your soul, and you being the first to make him laugh genuinely with nothing required in return. 

Madam Red

You were a servant from the Phantomhive Manor, and when she went to discuss with her nephew about the plans to catch Jack the Ripper, you had caught her attention. She made a comment about how her butler could learn from both you and Sebastian. However, Grelle could see the look of love in her eyes, and she knew her next orders.

The following day, you found yourself locked within a room in Madame Red’s estate. Eventually, the lady had entered the room, specifically the bedroom, where you were staying in. She greeted you with a hello darling before moving on to prepare for the night. You saw the instruments she was using, but you remember hearing her tell Grelle that there was a target that night. You let out a gasp, and you started trying to escape only to be held back by Madam Red herself. She used one of the many syringes full of something with anesthetic properties that put you back to sleep.

[vikkirosko]

Headcanons of how would (Kuroshitsuji) Sebastian, Lau, William, Undertaker, and Agni react if their shy crush is shocked that they also wanted to confess their feelings?

Headcanons Simultaneous confessed feelings

😈 Sebastian Michaelis x Reader 🐈‍⬛

For a demon to experience such a feeling as falling in love was unexpected. Especially to a man like you. Innocent, shy and quiet, that's how he could describe you. But for some reason, his gaze was directed at you. Sebastian saw that you often cast confused glances at him and he liked it. But he didn't want to wait even longer for you to finally take the first step. That's why I decided to act on my own

It didn't take Sebastian long to get a chance to talk to you alone. He saw how embarrassed you were, but he wasn't going to back down. Sebastian put his gloved hand on your cheek, making it impossible for you to escape, and told you about his feelings. He looked into your eyes carefully, seeing how a blush appeared on your face, but at the same time, he saw surprise reflected on your face, as if you expected anything but his confession of feelings for you

You looked away in embarrassment and mumbled that you wanted to tell him about your feelings yourself, but you didn't expect him to have feelings for you in return. You didn't expect a man like him to have such feelings for you. It came as a complete surprise to you. Looking at you, confused and unsure, he couldn't help but smile a little

Sebastian loved watching you get embarrassed. More and more often, he deliberately touched your skin fleetingly, gave you a look and a smile. Perhaps if another demon found out about the relationship between you, it would cause laughter, but Sebastian didn't care. He likes you too much to think about such things

👓 William T. Spears x Reader 📑

William has always taken his job seriously. He put it first, not rushing to build a relationship with anyone. He tried to stick to the idea that reapers had no feelings, although others often proved the opposite. But when he himself felt feelings for you begin to arise in his chest, he simply could not deny the obvious. He fell in love with you

You were shy, quiet, and tried to be responsible about your work. William had no reason to tell you off, but more and more often he found himself staring at you. But what surprised him more was that you also often looked at him, but as soon as he looked at you in response, you hurriedly turned away and a blush flared up on your cheeks. This led him to certain thoughts

William understood that if he kept silent, it would only be harder for him, so he decided to tell you how he felt, but the first thing that surprised him was that you said you wanted to talk to him. William said he had something to tell you, too, and you gave him the right to speak first. However, when he told you about his feelings, it was your time to be surprised, but along with the surprise, a bright blush bloomed on your face

You hurriedly told him that you had the same feelings for him, but you didn't expect him to reciprocate your feelings. William always seemed so serious and focused to you, but the fact that he had feelings for you made you really happy. He didn't speak, but he felt the same warm feeling of happiness as you

☠️ Undertaker x Reader ⚰️

Undertaker lived for a very long time and managed to see a variety of people. With retirement, there were no fewer people he met. You have become one of those people. Initially, you wandered into his humble abode by accident, but then you came to him again, and then again and again. You didn't need his professional services, and Undertaker was glad that he had someone to talk to. You were quiet, shy, and often embarrassed when he came closer, but it seemed especially sweet to him

He liked you and he didn't really hide it. Undertaker treated you to tea and cookies, told you jokes and was sincerely glad when you came to him. He wasn't going to hide his feelings for long. He lived long enough to understand that hiding his true feelings would not achieve anything, especially considering that your life span, unlike his, was limited

He told you about how he felt about you during your next visit. The more he talked, the redder your face became. When he finished, there was a big smile on his face, and you, very embarrassed, told him that you had the same feelings for him, and you tried to decide to tell him about it, but he beat you to it, which came as a surprise to you

Undertaker was glad that you became closer. You were still shy and quiet, but it didn't bother him. It was you, and the fact that your feelings for each other were mutual was what kept him happy

🐉 Lau x Reader 🪷

Lau liked meeting interesting people. Such people included Ciel Phantomhive, with whom he periodically dealt. And that's the kind of person you've become. You weren't a genius, you were a quiet, shy person he met shortly after he came to England. He found you sweet and curious, so he often invited you to drink a cup of real Chinese tea with him and chat

He was the most unusual person you knew, and Lau knew it perfectly well. He liked to see the blush blooming on your cheeks, the way you looked away in embarrassment. He liked you and he didn't hide it even from you. You tried your best to avoid embarrassing topics of conversation, but Lau wasn't going to beat around the bush for long, which is why he soon told you about the feelings he had for you

The more he talked, the redder your face became. He leaned closer to you and lightly kissed you on the corner of your lips, which caused an even more vivid reaction from you. When Lau asked you what you thought of his confession, you hurriedly, haltingly, said that you had the same feelings for him, but you were very surprised by his confession, because you were sure that he was just making fun of you all this time

Lau knew how shy you were and wasn't surprised that you thought he was joking with you. He intended to show you that this was not the case and that his feelings for you were the most genuine

👊 Agni x Reader 🍛

Agni came to England to look after his prince, but fate decreed that he met you. Your acquaintance was an accident, but Agni was glad that you had the opportunity to communicate more often. He could rest next to you, because, unlike his ward, he was quiet, calm, and even shy. Agni didn't have to worry that something unexpected would happen

Agni was comfortable with you. At your request, he told you about India, because you have never been there. The more time you spent together, the more he became attached to you and the more tender feelings he felt for you. Agni decided to tell you about them, hoping that it would not destroy your friendship, because he did not want to lose you

When he started telling you about his feelings, he saw the shock on your face. Following the shock, a bright blush appeared on your face. When he stopped talking, you, clearly nervous, told him that you did not expect this. Agni thought for a moment that you didn't feel that way about him, but you leaned forward and hugged him, muttering that you were happy that your feelings were mutual and that you also wanted to tell him about it but couldn't make up your mind

Agni hugged you back, unable to hold back a smile. He was glad that you both had such feelings for each other. In a foreign country, you were the ray of light that he wanted to protect, just as he protected the prince

[timelessmulder]

[Fibercrafting] Whatever Happened to Spun With Love? {heavy}

(31 days of horror day 9: Spin)

For the past five years, Caitlin "Cat" Doherty found her foothold on sites like Instagram and Ravelry selling commissions for her eye catching, hand spun yarn made with ethically sourced dyes and alpaca wool. She had a small but moderate presence on the convention circuit, selling handmade goods that showed off her yarn. Eventually she started making limited runs, available at convention booths and through higher tiers of her Patreon. Shortly after this she quit her full time job in data entry to pursue fiber works full time.

In mid-2022, at the urging of some other people in the hand dyed yarn business, and people who had bought from her before, she opened her own Etsy. The catalog was massive, with at least twenty listings. This included her most popular limited runs that always sold out within moments. This was when the cracks first began to show, even among her most devoted followers: this was a huge amount of work for one person to be undertaking, even if the listings promised continued limited runs and wait lists.

In an Instragram announcement, crossposted to her Twitter, Cat said:

I appreciate the concern from all y'all :3c but I calculated the amount of work I think I'll be able to handle running a small business. If things actually spiral out of my control, I will step back and reevaluate.

Despite her words, a healthy amount of skepticism remained. Her fans worried about her health, and naysayers thought she'd fold within a few months.

this is a lot for someone to handle! take care of yourself cat

she's going to hightail it the first time she gets orders and the backlog goes crazy. shes doomed

wouldn't it have been smarter to start with like five??? get that bag ig

The orders remained steady for the first five months of operation. Cat would periodically close listings and get items out to customers with slow wait times that remained consistent, typically a few weeks before arrival. The convention appearances came to an end, much to the dismay of people who enjoyed seeing her cottagecore booth in person, but Cat assured people that once she found a groove with this business she would start going to conventions again.

No one was really surprised when things started to slow down. Reports brought up longer wait times, and a major backlog that she couldn't keep up with.

i was put on a waitlist like two months ago and people who ordered straight from the listing got shit before me

girl just limit the waitlist no one will judge you!!!

Cat Doherty tweeted an apology:

I'm so sorry for all the issues. A major life event happened, but I'll be getting back on top of things! I will be halting any new listings to work on my backlog. I'm so sorry for the frustration and inconvenience. In the meantime, why don't you check out Jessica's shop, Spindle and Thimble?

Jessica White was a fellow dyer who also did work dying fabrics. Her store was not as prominent as Cat's, but she had an unmatched business savvy that gave her a solid niche despite middling Etsy reviews. While most of their friendship remained behind the scenes, with Jessica being someone who preferred to keep her life offline, it seemed that Jessica wanted the novice entrepreneur to succeed. Many took the shout out to be Cat returning the favor.

True to her word, Cat closed her Etsy for the time being and started to send out yarn to the people still waiting on orders. People responded with annoyance at how long it took, but surprised delight that the quality was excellent as always.

Three months after the announcement, the shipments stopped. A thread by Lisa Fitz appeared on ravelry:

Has anyone gotten an order from Spun With Love recently?

I should've been in her next batch of orders but its been weeks. I haven't gotten a shipment and no text communication from Doherty. I paid upfront for this!

This spun out in predictable directions.

Christ I hope she's okay ):

lmao who wants to bet money that we've got another "fake her death because she couldn't handle the pressure?" going on

The second comment referencing multiple situations where fiber craft artists have faked their deaths due to being overwhelmed by their sales numbers, most notably Mystic Creations Yarn (talked about in this thread). This situation exploded, with some people doubling down on the idea that she's vanished off the face of the earth rather than deal with potentially irate customers, while others expressed genuine concern. Everyone agreed that if there was an issue, they hoped she would reach out to them and explain.

A few days later, when the argument was a post every few hours instead of a constant stream, Jessica stepped in.

Hey guys, Jessica here. Cat has asked me to let you know that she's had a major health scare and she's very sorry for the upset she's caused to all of you. In the mean time, I will be offering free products of similar color to those who haven't had their orders fulfilled. Just email me a copy of your receipt. If not, we will work on getting refunds out to you.

Most were relieved at the update on Cat's well being, while others preened at being correct that she'd fold under the pressure. More arguments ensued between those people, and those scolding them for being so callous about her health. The argument got pretty heated, only stopping when a mod stepped in to tell everyone to play nice. Creative burnout is a known thing in the crafting community and Cat shouldn't be punished for it, though she should have stepped forward sooner to let everyone know what was happening.

The thread fizzled out after that. People moved on with their lives, chalking this up to another piece of craft drama and more than happy to leave it at that.

Months passed, and someone returned to that thread:

Sorry to necro, but did anyone else see the news report?

In the post was a link to a news report from the town where Cat was living. She had been murdered, and her body only recently found.

To say the thread exploded after that would be an understatement. There were people apologizing for being so cruel about her vanishing, people were trying to reach out to her family to see if there was any way they could help. Digital vigils were held for the person taken too soon. And as it often does on the internet, a question arose from the posters: who had done it? Why?

hey can anyone get into contact with jessica???

i don't think its appropriate. they were friends, jessica is probably grieving like the rest of us

dude leave her alone

idk yall her post is pretty suspicious

what the fuck is wrong with you?

But the seed of suspicion was laid in the minds of some forum users. It spread into the wider community, though everyone's grief disguised any suspicions placed on Jessica. Those who found her behavior odd were often shunned and blocked for it, until they stopped bothering outside of their conspiracy corners. These people would soon be vindicated when news broke that Jessica White had been arrested in relation to the death of 34-year-old Caitlin Doherty.

The investigation at this point is still on going and very little is known about it, but initial reports are saying that someone broke into Cat's rented studio and beat her to death with one a piece of her spinning wheel. Few other details have been released to the public.

--------

ffiberfarrts commented | 2.1k upvotes:

hey op why is this on hobbydrama

[pillow-anime-talk]

his talented baby. {pt.2}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a person who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; some comedy; big fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. sebastian michaelis & undertaker {kuroshitsuji} + josuke higashikata & rohan kishibe {jojo 4}

part one {click}

— SEBASTIAN (ft. chess)

Sebastian was perfect in everything; in cleaning, in cooking, in playing various instruments, in foreign languages, in gardening, even in singing and dancing. There was, however, one thing he couldn’t achieve fully well, and that was the game of chess.

Of course, he defeated others (I mean here; Grell, Agni, Bald or Finny) with ease, but when you offered him a game one day, his so far intact worldview changed dramatically. Eventually he found someone better than himself, but at the same time he felt so damn frustrated that he couldn’t win against your person. You were better than him, than Ciel, and even better than Mr. Tanaka, who was almost equal to him and the young lord.

“... Your move, Sebastian.” You announced by moving the bishop to the field of your choice, taking his black rook at the same time. “Are you going to give up, my love?” You smiled gently as you took a sip of delicious English tea with the perfect amount of sugar. The man looked at you in response, frowning and looking at the chess alignment after a short while.

“No. Everything is fine, I just need to think for a moment.” He said calmly, though his face expression seemed to hide the urge to swear. “I am impressed with how quickly you made such a confusing setup, darling.”

“Well, well. My grandpa taught me to play. As the saying goes, the student has surpassed the master.” You chuckled as you put your chin on your right hand while looking at the fingers of your man surrounded by white gloves, who decided to move the king to space F5. “Maybe someday you will surpass me, who knows?”

Sebastian stared at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding in delicate, almost invisible amusement.

“Maybe someday, dear. For now, I will give you the honorable title of the best chess player.”

— UNDERTAKER (ft. drawing)

Drawing has been your passion since you remember and you loved to paint literally everything; still life, nature, huge landscapes, other people, animals, and even things that didn’t make much sense (Picasso was one of your biggest inspirations when it came to cubism). In addition, in your bag you always carried your favorite blue sketchbook in which you drew tiny thoughts or things you noticed while walking, working or drinking coffee in a cafe.

That day, however, you were sitting quietly on one of the chairs in the funeral parlor, and the Undertaker was also sitting nearby – he was writing names with concentration, calculating in his mind the number of deaths in the last month and year.

His calm face was really handsome from your perspective; the faint light of the lantern caressed his pale complexion, and his green eyes full of mischief stood out behind his fair hair. Every now and then you glanced at the tall man, then your eyes focused again on the small notebook whose pages were blank. I mean, they were not all empty; some of them had sketches of dogs on them, others sketches of flowers, and others featured the figure of a tall Grim Reaper.

When you finished your illustration, you smiled and nodded, satisfied with your work. A beautiful play of light, self-confident pencil strokes and small additions in the form of ivy and rosemary beautifully composed the whole black-grey picture of Adrian.

“Excause me, darling...?” You whispered hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt his work. Nevertheless, the man quickly looked in your direction and a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Yes, my little flower.” He asked, instantly standing up and forgetting about the paperwork – you were definitely more interesting than the dead, after all. You showed him your drawing with a slight blush on your face and he opened his mouth in slight shock. “It’s me?” You nodded, and the Grim Reaper just chuckled. “Am I really THAT handsome?” He joked and you just rolled your both eyes. A short time later, Undertaker praised your talent, asking if you’d like to hang some of your sketches on the board next to the entrance.

— JOSUKE (ft. playing drums)

More than five years ago, you and your three friends started a music band. Since then, you’ve been focused on making your dreams come true, on small concerts played in the Morioh, on school performances, also on learning notes and practicing singing. You were the drummer and leader of ‘CR△WL’; your vast musical knowledge, willingness to develop your passion and daily rehearsals aroused great admiration from the rest of the band and from people who watched your slowly growing career. Of course, Josuke was no exception, on the contrary – he considered himself your biggest and most faithful fan, who with the greatest pleasure went on dates with you to music shops or bookstores with records of old bands.

The young man was delighted every time you played the instrument – just like years ago in your garage when you first played ‘Paranoid’ by Black Sabbath for him. He was smitten and would come over to your house to listen to your covers or help you make a video for your YouTube channel (you were pretty popular for tutorials, trivia, and drum videos).

“...Y/N, Y/N. Would you be able to play this song?”

That day, Josuke visited your house once again. Your mom made you two some snacks, and you grinned as you practiced another song for an upcoming concert at one of the smaller festivals this summer. Your boyfriend seemed to be excited like never before, so you asked what is the title of mentioned song. Hearing the familiar words, you just smiled, nodding your head in response.

Instantly, your both hands and right foot began to beat the drums, which making the dark-haired teenager’s face look very surprised.

“Y/N... You really know every song on this planet!”

— ROHAN (ft. rapping)

Karaoke, bowls full of ice cream and fruit, carbonated drinks, hot snacks and great company were what you’ve been missing for the last few weeks. Focused on studies and work, you didn’t have time to rest properly; but you finally met with your closest friends and you also took Rohan with you.

You had a great time gossip with besties who talked about changes in their lives and new achievements, for example, at work. You were telling about your experiences as well with a huge smile, while Rohan was sitting right next to you, talking to some people from time to time. He wasn’t interested in large gatherings, but he couldn’t say ‘No’ to you either because you were too sweet that evening.

Suddenly, one of Cardi B’s songs was played in the background and you almost squealed.

“Ooooh, I see that someone want to sing, huh?” The blonde haired girl asked, and you just laughed, thanking her for the black microphone.

Rohan almost spit at his new shirt as soon as you started rapping the verses without any problems, without even looking at the screen where the lyrics were displayed. You had a great time dancing a bit in the middle of the small room. You looked at your partner with a smirk, sometimes sending a kiss or wink in his direction. You were literally in your world; you showing your energy and love for music so perfectly.

Rohan was really surprised.

[mooniedust]

Modern Aemond Bot/Prompt.

Plot: Aemond and his family have started therapy, and each of them now has an emotional support animal. Aemond appears particularly enthusiastic about introducing his support animal to you.

TW: The only potentially surprising element is that the Greens are now in therapy.

With all my heart,

Moon Dust.

When Aemond and the rest of his morally questionable family finally gave in to the idea of therapy, you felt nothing but explicit pride. Not because you wished for your friend to become a domesticated animal, like a fierce dog that needed to be kept in check—a medicated lunatic.

In truth, the act of admitting the need for help is far more intricate than most might conceive; overcoming pride and confronting the skeletons buried in the past is a challenge that few would allow themselves to undertake.

You knew this firsthand, having walked that same thorny path yourself.

The Targaryens’ psychologist, an apparently skilled and dedicated woman, had managed to make each member of that peculiar family feel comfortable exploring their idiosyncrasies. Even Alicent, the ever-reserved and composed matriarch, had started attending the sessions, and you’d heard rumors that she was, in fact, talking about her feelings. It was something you never imagined witnessing: the Targaryen family coming together to discuss emotions like ordinary people.

It seemed as if the end of times was near.

It was a dramatic thought, yeah, but the truth is that everyone in the house seemed more open in a way that bordered on the surreal, almost as if a breath of normalcy was sneaking in among them. Even Aemond, who had once openly scorned therapy as a waste of time and money that could be better spent on something more "important," had changed his perspective.

Your interactions had become less frequent, an inevitable consequence of increasingly conflicting schedules. Nevertheless, there were still those monthly weekend meetings where you allowed yourself to collapse in Aemond’s impeccably arranged room. The environment was a curious mix of English literature books and volumes on business, an ironic juxtaposition that never failed to bring a smile to your face.

But that night, something was different. Aemond, unlike his usual self, didn’t let you lazily throw yourself onto his soft bed, sarcastically complaining about your classmates' artistic opinions. Instead, he approached, with an enigmatic gleam in his eyes, gently covering yours and the smile that accompanied the gesture conveyed a clear message, expressed in Aemond’s silent language:

Trouble.

You were guided around the room with careful precision, avoiding invisible furniture and obstacles until he finally removed his hands from your eyes. Before you, he stood with an unmistakable expression of pride, pointing to something new and surprising.

A tempered glass cage dominated one corner of the room, lushly filled with vegetation so rich that it made your mother’s modest garden look insignificant by comparison. But what really caught your attention was not the vegetation, but the creature that moved slowly within that habitat. Your mind initially thought of a snake—but no, it was bigger, much bigger.

Hell nah.

“Why do you have a Komodo dragon in your room?” Your voice sounded alarmed as your arms moved in broad gestures, pointing to the imposing lizard that was calmly enjoying a plump tomato.

The last time you saw a reptile of such impressive proportions was perhaps in some natural history book. The animal resembled a compact version of an alligator, every inch of its body exuding a primeval presence, you leaned in, instinctively, to get a better look, and the animal, with calculated insolence, flicked its tongue, provoking a sudden feeling of unease.

“This is Vhagar,” Aemond clarified with studied serenity. “She’s a Cyclura ricordii, an iguana, not a Komodo dragon, you idiot—my emotional support animal,” he added with an eye roll typical of his dry humor, as he opened the habitat and picked up the iguana with surprising tenderness.

Vhagar, in turn, seemed completely content with the attention she was receiving, wrapping her rough tail around Aemond’s arm, still nibbling on her tomato with the enthusiasm of a child savoring a sweet.

Of course, the psychologist would suggest an emotional support animal, and of course, Aemond wouldn’t settle for something simple like a cat. Not even one of those hairless cats with a stern appearance...what was their name again? But no, for him, nothing would do except a miniature "dragon."

“Do you want to hold her?” Aemond asked, extending Vhagar like a mother extending her baby toward you, his eyes challenging you to accept the invitation.

[zetsubo-bani]

Rachel and Vincent in an arranged marriage?

A little theory I came up with

I know at first you must be wondering why I think that despite the manga initially showing them as a normal couple. But I have my doubts on whether they married truly for love only. Here's why:

What started my train of thought was this panel here:

Whoever possesses the title "earl of phantomhive" is also the queens guard dog, it has always been like that. So the fact that francis made sure lizzy wouldn't neglect her training makes perfect sense, because the wife of the guard dog should be able to protect him if necessary. But then we have rachel who seems to be a completely normal rich girl with not much known about her. Of course you could say that rachel happend to catch vincents attention which is why he ended up marrying her.

But then we have this:

When it comes to arranged marriages, it is almost always a deal made between parents of the people in question (as seen with lizzy and ciel) or between a parent and the supposed suiter

Now it could be that their parent introduced them in hopes that one of them catches vincents interest which is what happened but then again we have the fact that vincent didn't seem to show interest in rachel. On screen atleast.

He complimented madam red a bit but his marriage to rachel seemed completely unexpected, even to madam red

You would think that madam red shouldn't be that surprised by that announcement if they had been dating before (because if they married out of love then they definitely would have dated before getting into a marriage).

But she didn't suspect anything and even made herself all pretty in hopes of getting more of vincents attention. She definitely wouldn't have done so if she knew he was already taken because after the marriage she never did anymore romantic moves on vincent and instead just observed them bitterly from the sidelines

People in the victorian age were very private when it came to showing affection, I am aware of that. However rachel and madam red used to be very close and they still sort of were even after the marriage. I am pretty certain rachel would have told her if she started dating someone.

However if it had been arranged it could explain why she was so surprised. It is likely that it's the reason why vincent came to visit them in the first place. He likely knew the father because of work relations and got offered to get a potential wife.

The second chapter of the manga literally said that marriage arrangements were pretty common in that time and that rich people only marry other rich people.

Considering how little we know of rachel, it could be possible that she had some qualities that would fit into the role of the wife of phantomhive which is why she got to marry him, however that is just speculation

We also have this suspicious panel:

It even struck me as odd when I first read it because why would he say that? Vincent is apparently happily married with a beautiful and noble wife and has twin sons. So the fact that he questioned him about the love part seemed off to me.

But if their marriage was arranged it might make sense as to why he would question vincents ability to "love" because maybe there never was any love involved in his family life with his marriage arranged and his kids being born out of a need for an heir.

It's very speculative but it's not like it wasn't common at that age.

And considering how kuro has the common theme of "not what it appears to be", it would fit in quite well.

After all, undertaker wasn't just a goofy ally of o!ciel, the servants weren't just some idiots who only fail as a servant, lizzy wasn't a damsel in distress, o!ciel isn't ciel, madam red wasn't trying to help o!ciel, ... and maybe rachel and vincent weren't the loving couple they were portrayed to be.

In any case, it's a little theory I had while thinking. Please share your thoughts with me.

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 14

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Cute and cocky Max, the triumphant return of Cutie the Bat, so much fluff, dancing as foreplay, discussions of sex. Summary: An unexpected invitation yields surprising revelations, and Max has some help in planning a night that neither of you will ever forget. Notes: This week enjoy a colorized photo of Cornelius Vanderbilt II and wife Alice's palatial primary residence at 5th and 57th in Manhattan. Sold in the late 1920s, the mansion was later demolished and the current Bergdorf Goodman's location built in its place. At the end of the chapter I've added in a black and white photo of the house's ballroom, which makes a special appearance in this chapter!

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

The entirety of the journey traveling from Newport to the Vanderbilt’s house on Fifth Avenue is far more tiring than you had anticipated, and when you walk in the front door of the grand mansion — with its palatial fireplace that you have only seen in photos from the Metropolitan Museum of Art — it suddenly makes a lot more sense why people talk about travel being such an undertaking in the past. You are, in point of fact, exhausted. And dirty, which is unexpected. The kicked up dust and dirt from train terminals, unpaved roads, and all manner of other frustrations has your wishing for a bath.

That will have to wait, though, as almost the moment you walk through the door Mrs. Vanderbilt is by your elbow with an envelope. “This arrived for you this morning, dear,” Alice tells you with an impressed smile. “It seems you have been summoned.” The look of confusion on your face must be particularly lustily unintelligent because Alice Vanderbilt’s smile softens into something maternal. “Mrs. William Astor has asked you to tea, I suspect. You must have made quite an impression on her at the Brown’s ball.”

“Oh!” The imposing woman in her fifties had made quite the impression on you, as well, and you carefully open the envelope that Alice has pressed into your hand. It is exactly as Alice predicted, and you look up at the grandfather clock in the hall. “Just a few hours…” you murmur, looking over at Max, Annie and Emmanuel with concern pursing your expression. “It…seems to only be addressed to me?”

“Because the invitation is just for you.” Alice hums, as if the answer is obvious. “Do not be alarmed, most often highly statured ladies like Mrs. Astor prefer their socializing in smaller circles.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “Less gossip that way.”

“I will do my best not to embarrass any of you with poor manners.” It’s an honor, in this time and this place. You know that. But that doesn’t mean you’re not seriously nervous.

“After watching you charm a ballroom, I would never dream of such a thing.” Alice waves away your concern. “Come. You must be exhausted by your journey. I will have some tea and refreshments sent to your rooms.”

While Annie and Emmanuel are shown to separate rooms on opposite ends of the long second-floor hallway, you and Max are let into a green-and-white decorated guest room on the third floor that sports one slightly larger bed. The footman who showed you the way leaves you with a bow and closes the door to give you privacy, leaving you standing with Max in the middle of the luxurious room.

“Swanky.” Max hums as he looks around the room. “I have to admit, there’s something missing in modern decor. It’s just not as…elegant.”

“I like that we have the whole newlyweds thing going for us,” you admit, looking around the room while you lean into his side. “They just assume we want to be close to each other. And they’re right.”

Max smiles smugly. “Of course you want to stay close to me.” He brags, winking at you playfully. “You want my body.”

“If you’re going to be cocky about it, I’m not going to tell you what I’ve been thinking.” Raising one eyebrow at him, you dearly wish you were in comfortable jeans and a sweater so you could just plop down on the mattress and stretch out. The traveling dress you have on definitely won’t permit that.

He eyes you wickedly and bites his lip. “Yeah?” He hums. “You don’t want to tell me that you’ve imagined me under that dress of yours? Tongue at work while you pretend to be prim and proper?”

“I’ve been imagining more than that.” It seems like every step you take with him only spurs you onto the next a little faster. Knowing that his tendency toward caretaking with you isn’t just a show or just to get in your pants means more than you can really say. Max loves you, fully and without ulterior motive. And you love him the same.

“Oh yeah?” He snags your waist, pulling you close and grinning as he pulls the bow around your waist loose. He’s teasing you, but he also knows you must be desperate to get out of your dress.

“Maybe.” Flustered and dreamy-eyed, you put your arms around his neck and let him hold you as close as he wants. “Are you really gonna get me all riled up before I have to go have tea with the Mrs. Astor?”

“Why don’t I relax you before you have tea with the Mrs. Astor?” He poses. “Make you cum while you clean up.”

“A very dirty way of getting clean.” You hum, tipping your head back to silently ask for a kiss. “And maybe…a preview to tonight?”

“My wife is greedy.” Max boasts happily. “Wanting to sleep with a tongue inside her.”

“I was thinking maybe…” You can’t help it, biting your lip to keep the grin blossoming across your face from getting too big. “Of a different part of you…”

“Fingers?” Max lifts a brow at you and grins when you shake your head. “Toe? I’ve never tried that before, to be honest.”

"I'm ready." You tell him, warmth in your cheeks and in your smile. "If you are."

“Are you sure?” Max asks seriously, reaching up and brushing his fingers over your pulse. “I don’t want you to rush because you think I’m impatient.”

"I'm sure." His sweetness is part of the reason, but you know he would deflect if you said so. "I love you, and I want to celebrate that."

“It will be good.” He promises sincerely. “Like you’ve never experienced before.”

“If it’s good then it definitely will be like I’ve never experienced before,” you joke, rolling your eyes in exaggeration to make him laugh. “Honestly love, please don’t feel any pressure. I just…I want to share this with you. That’s all.”

“I’ve felt plenty of pressure.” Max jokes, smirking at his innuendo. “But if you’re ready, the perfect place to make love to my wife for the first time, would be in the bed at the Vanderbilt’s mansion.”

“Time travel bragging right.” Every time he gets so proud to call you his wife it gives you a little shiver and you grin.

“And it’s not like we are breaking into a museum to do it.” He chuckles and turns you around to start unbuttoning the back of your traveling dress. “It will be quite the ‘feather in your cap’ as your grandfather likes to say.”

“And we’re even in the time where people actually wear feathers in their caps.” His nimble fingers are quick to undo the outer layer of your dress, pulling away the top to let you stretch a little more easily in just your corset cover and corset above what seems like miles of petticoats. Without those big sleeves it’s a lot easier to move.

Max snickers. “I’m just grateful we didn’t come to a time where wearing tights was fashionable.” He jokes.

“Why not?” You smirk at him over your shoulder. “You’ve got great legs.”

“Yeah, but it would leave nothing to the imagination, package wise.” He snorts.

“Those big ‘ol pantaloons they wore over the tights would.” It reminds you of a Shakespeare show you saw once, and the idea of Max back in that time scraping out thees and thous makes you giggle. “Maybe I’ll get the hang of this time traveling stuff and we’ll be time tourists. Who knows?”

He hums, knowing that you both can be time travelers in your own time as well, watching history unfold as you both remain ageless.

Max helps you out of your skirt, letting you shed all those extra pounds of beading and embroidery for a little while before you have to put on something suitable for Mrs. Astor. You have very little idea of what Renée packed but you’ll manage, just enjoying the freedom of lighter layers for now. Petticoats and a bustle don’t weigh too much, you’ve been surprised to find.

“Better?” Max loves the sight of you in the undergarments of the time, honestly playing into the time period movies that he had watched when he was younger. Sometimes hoping to get laid, but that one – Pride and Prejudice – that was just a guilty pleasure.

“It’s so hard to move in the full dresses.” Which is why you’re wiggling happily and stretching everywhere now that you have a little freedom. “At least we didn’t come back to the age of six-foot crinolines. You wouldn’t be able to get near me at all.”

“I don’t know what that is, but a crinoline sounds horrible.” He gives you a mock look of horror. “Don’t sent us there.”

“I promise.” He gets the giggle out of you that he was hoping for, and you turn to lean against him because you still have the bustle underneath your petticoats tied in place so you can’t just back up into his arms.

“How come the history books never talk about how dirty traveling is?” Max snorts, knowing that both of you need a bath.

“Because no one wants to read about horse shit and dust everywhere.” You laugh along with him. “I wish I had time for a bath but apparently travel by horse-drawn carriage takes foreeeeever.”

“You want to get clean, baby doll?” Max smirks. “I can clean you up real quick.”

“Speed bath?” You raise one eyebrow at him.

He chuckles. “Perks of moving fast, sweetums.” He had overheard the nickname on the dining car last night and had fallen in love with it, to tease you with, of course.

When you roll your eyes it’s entirely joking, but you cross your arms appraisingly and smirk. “Alright. Go for it.”

“Done, baby doll.” He snaps his fingers as if he were a magician, drawing your eyes away from the trick before he begins to move quickly.

When he wants to be, Max is a whirlwind. Before you know it your petticoats are strewn around the room and your corset seems to disappear in a flash, along with your chemise and stockings, all while you barely feel him touch you. The tornado of movement carries you so easily to the bathroom and within minutes you’re scrubbed clean and dry again.

When he stops moving, it’s obvious that Max has also cleaned up while taking care of your quick wash. Grinning and not even breathless as he eyes you. “Believe me now?”

“Baby,” you smirk, the expression rolling over your features with glee. “I never doubted you. I just wanted to see you show off.”

“Good.” He winks at you and shrugs. “Now you are all clean and can enjoy your visit with Mrs. Astor.”

“Wish me luck?” Walking over to the set of buttons built into the carved wood detailing of the guest room, you press the one marked to connect to you maid and sigh. You are definitely going to need Renee’s help picking out a dress.

“Of course.” Max snaps his fingers again. “I could come with you.” He offers with a coy grin.

“I don’t think the Mrs. Astor would take kindly to a bat in her house.” Though you grin broadly at the idea.

“I would make a fashionable hat accessory.” He huffs, miffed that you might deny him the opportunity.

“If you think you can hold still for an entire tea visit, I’ll take you with me.” It’s sweet of him to want to come with you, though you know it’s also because he’s an incorrigible gossip.

He tuts because he knows you’ve got him there. There’s no way he wouldn’t ruffle his wings or trill at you in his bat form. “She might like bats.” He grumbles.

“She might.” When he pouts you can’t help but kiss him, and your hand on his chest feels the thrilling thud of a single heartbeat as your lips brush his. “And if she does, I’ll bring you next time. If there ever is a next time.”

“Ooookaaaaayyy.” He rolls his eyes, playing up the pouring before he shrugs. “Tea sucks anyway. Kind of like me.” He jokes, waggling his brows. “Get it?”

“Har har har.” The exaggerated laughing noise makes both of you bust out into giggles just before a knock sounds at the door and Renee enters.

“You rang, Ma’am?” She asks politely, stock still in her own immaculate uniform. No doubt she had already cleaned herself up from the trip.

“I was hoping you might have packed a nice tea dress for the trip, Renee.” Standing in your chemise and robe in the middle of the room is more than a touch unconventional, but so are you. “I’ve had an invitation from Mrs. Astor.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Her eyes widen slightly and she nods eagerly. “I have a beautiful teal tea dress that would be perfect.” She insists.

“Well,” you flash both of them a smile, with Renee zipping right past you to the closet where your and Max’s clothes have been stored. “Here goes nothing.”

******

More than an hour later, after all the fuss of redressing, restyling, saying your polite ‘good afternoon’s to the Vanderbilts, and being bundled in and out of a carriage all on your own to take you a mere twenty minute carriage ride from number 1 West 57th Street to 350 Fifth Avenue. The house is even grander than the old photo on the damn Wikipedia page you’d seen ages ago, and you swallow thickly as you walk up to the door and ring the bell. Somehow you’re just certain Mrs. Astor’s butler will be the most intimidating possible version of that career choice.

Instead of the butler answering the door, Mrs. Astor herself is the one that pulls the door open. She had been sent word that you had accepted her invitation and had been looking out for your carriage to arrive. “Mrs. Phillips!” She beams as she opens the door wider and steps back. “I am so pleased you decided to accept my invitation.”

“It was very kind of you to ask me.” Astonished to find the woman herself standing in the front hall of her house, you falter and damn near curtsy as a footman appears to whisk your gloves and reticule away. The small hat perched on your head — not adorned with a particular bat — stays firmly in place.

“When Alice Vanderbilt told me you were going to be in town, I knew I had to have you to tea.” She slides her arm through yours and notices you craning your neck around to look at the interior. “You and Mr. Phillips will be building homes, correct? Let me give you a tour? We have so many modern conveniences.”

“We haven’t decided where to build yet.” Polite conversation seems the way to go, as Mrs. Astor escorts you around the first floor of the fashionable and enormous brownstone they call home. “We may make our home in Newport year round.”

“I would love to have a permanent home.” She admits easily. “Packing up everything I need from one home to another is so tiring at times.”

“But the summers are not always pleasant here, and winters can be isolating in Newport.” She leads you through the hall to a stunning sitting room and it’s really all you can do not to stare the way you did your very first day at your home in Newport. “There must be some advantages for being able to travel where the weather is nicest?”

“Of course there are. I know that I am very fortunate to be able to escape the intolerant weather.” She knows that she is privileged and is thankful for her children’s sake. “I would love a frolicking bath in the gardens. Or a pool, but William says that it’s too much effort.”

“Max doesn’t particularly care for the beach. I think he would probably love a pool instead.” Although, the thought of him indignantly turning into a bat just to be out in the sunshine to see you in a swimsuit almost makes you giggle.

“Then perhaps you will have an indoor pool?” She suggests. “You can swim no matter the weather outside.”

“Perhaps.” She seems delighted for you at the prospect so you smile. “And if we did, you would certainly be welcome to visit.”

“I would be visiting often.” She admits with a grin as she guides you back towards the parlor where the tea is being laid by one of the footmen.

If you had any intention of staying in this time, it would be an immense compliment. But as it is, you have to take the fact as what it is — if you get stuck here, then Lina Astor is a valuable ally to have. “You will be most welcome, pool or otherwise.”

“You are kind. And that is a refreshing thing to find.” She hums, smiling as she settles you both down on the sofa. “Very refreshing indeed.”

“It was an honor to receive your invitation.” It is, and you’re aware of that, but you’re still wondering why she invited you here other than the fact that you’re staying with the Browns. It’s not as though she knows you’re their granddaughter.

“Then I am happy you accepted.” The footman has disappeared, and Mrs. Astor leans forward to pick up the teapot. “It is not often I find other kindred spirits in my circle.”

“I—I’m sorry?” The comment takes you off guard, and you feel a little like a deer in headlights at the moment.

Her smile turns slightly coy and she tilts her head. “I don’t think that I’m mistaken.” She tells you conversationally. “Another time traveling witch?”

The mistake you made was reaching for the teacup that the footman had set beside you before leaving the room at exactly the moment Mrs. Astor said the words ‘time traveling’. Your hand clatters past the cup and saucer, nearly upending the small table beside you as your eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. “E—excuse—” Oh, Max is going to be so mad he isn’t here for this. “How could you possibly—?”

“Know that you aren’t from this time?” She muses and sets down the tea set to tap her brows. “You must have just waxed your brows before you travelled back.” Her eyes are flashing with intrigue. “What year had you left?”

"I—" It automatically makes you hide your hands, like she could somehow know that you had just taken off your nail polish the day before. "Um...2023..." you murmur, feeling very oddly like you've been caught by the Time Travel Police or something equally insane.

“Ohhhhhh.” She smiles excitedly and leans in. “Tell me about it, please?” There’s a plea in her voice that is barely noticeable under the excitement.

You don’t even know where to begin, swallowing hard and realizing that the conversation might not make any sense – in an insane sort of way – without context. "When...when have you, um...traveled to?" This time you manage to get the teacup firmly into your hands, but you're sure they must be shaking violently as you can't tear your eyes off the prim and proper madam of New York society.

“I think you misunderstand.” Lina shakes her head and reasons that it’s not a logical conclusion. “I was born in 1965. This is the time I travelled to.”

"What?" When you almost drop the delicate teacup all over again, you just shove it back onto the table.

“I would never have believed it myself.” She admits easily, continuing to talk. “However, how do you deny yourself in photographs from decades before you were born?” She asks. “I know some might think there a doppelgängers, historical figures that look like other people in different times, but I believe, like me, they are witches who have travelled to their proper times.”

"Does that mean...that once we travel...that we're stuck?" You ask, eyes widening impossibly yet again. "We go back to our proper time and stay there?" The possibility hadn't occurred to you, but it seems alarmingly real to hear her talk about it.

“Perhaps that it the wrong wording.” Mrs. Astor concedes. “Because I could have chosen to go back, but why would I when my soulmate was in this time?”

"I suppose that would account for the decision." The way your mind seems to be scrambled is the only thing that makes perfect sense at the moment, but shaking your head doesn't seem to set any of your thoughts straight at all – except one. "So there is a way to go back, then?"

She frowns slightly, tilting her head. “You mean you didn’t come here on purpose?” She asks softly, trying to understand why you would travel through time if not for a reason.

"It was an accident," you admit, feeling all the more amateurish for it. "I was trying to cast a protection spell and it...sort of imploded around me. Instead of banishing the person from where my soulmate and I were, it brought him here with us."

“Oh my.” Her eyes widen slightly and she knows there must be more to the story. “Hopefully, that person is no longer a bother to you and your soulmate?”

"No." A fact which has brought you no small amount of relief. "No. He certainly is not." This might be the most insane situation out of all of the insane situations you've ever found yourself in, and you lean forward in your seat unconsciously. "So..if you were born in 1965...do you mind if I ask where you were born? I'm endlessly curious now."

She grins and leans in. “California.”

"This is just...absolutely insane." The shake of your head still doesn't align your thoughts, but at least this time when you laugh in disbelief you don't feel foolish for it. "And you just...saw yourself in a history book?"

“Imagine my surprise.” She snorts and shakes her head. “But I just knew that it was me.”

"And I thought my story was crazy," you huff, exhaling like it's the biggest relief of your life.

“Believe me, there’s few who know my story.” Lina laughs, reaching over and covering your hand with your own. “How do you explain a colored rose tattoo on your pelvic bone to a man who has never even thought of a tattoo?”

“Oh my god.” Barely managing not to snort when you burst out into giggles, you cover your mouth and manage to recompose yourself. “That…that would not be easy,” you admit readily. “Although I guess at least it’s somewhere easily hidden.”

“Yes. William has accepted that I am from a different time, but my maid believes it is a strange birthmark.” She snickers.

“That is a remarkably detailed birthmark, Mrs. Astor,” you snicker softly, shaking your head. “Mine is essentially a blob.”

“Just so.” She agrees. “How are you acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, really?”

“I suppose it’s a moot point, to ask you to keep my secrets when you’ve already shared yours. We’re in this together.” And what a fucking weird person to even say that to, you think with an internal huff. “They are my grandparents. But only Mr. Brown knows who I really am.”

“Grandparents…how delightful.” She hums as she picks up your cup of tea and hands it back to you. “I expect that it’s easily possible because of your vampiric bloodline, your mother waited to give birth to you?”

“I should not be surprised that you know so much, I suppose?” It’s astonishing to you, but maybe it shouldn’t be. Doesn’t everyone have friends who keep their secrets? Especially within the magical community. “Yes. She did. She waited quite a while.”

“Your grandmother is the leader of her coven in Newport.” She reminds you. “I am the leader of the coven here. William has actually talked to your grandfather about immortality.”

“Really?” Imagining the Astors in the future makes your head spin a little, but how is it any weirder than you coming back to this time? “If you ever find yourself in 2023, come and visit.”

Picking up her own tea, she adds a sugar cube and stirs it. “Your soulmate is immortal? Or just a lucky human? I wasn’t quite able to tell.”

“Max is immortal.” And you almost laugh to yourself, thinking again how much he would love to be here for this. “My grandfather was his sire…either several years ago or it will be many years in the future. Depending on how you look at it.”

“How fascinating it all is.” She wonders, blowing on her tea and taking a small sip. “What a wonderful connection. I hope that your time here is fruitful?”

“I hope so, too.” You admit, blowing out a sigh of your own. “Of course, if I can never figure out how to get us home, our time here will be permanent.”

“Yes,” at the mention of that, Lina straightens. “That is why I asked you to tea. To get to know you, but also inquire if you are well versed in the spells.” She sets her tea down and stands, moving over to the bookcase. “I have all my own spells here, including the one to bring me to my William’s time.”

“I am not particularly well versed in any spells at all.” The idea of an Astor family grimoire piques your interest as you watch her move amongst the shelves, pulling things out quickly in a very particular order until a hidden panel in the wainscoting pops open. Of fucking course Mrs. Astor has a secret compartment for her grimoire. “My magical education came late in life.”

“The perhaps I might give you a copy?” She asks, knowing that you might not have your own family grimoire. If her own could assist you in creating one, she would be delighted.

"Are you serious?" At least the more modern phrase won't sound too foreign to her as you stare at the petite figure of Lina Astor over your teacup. "I—I mean—that would be so incredibly generous of you."

“I will start writing it out immediately.” She promises as she brings the leather-bound book over to the sofa. “By the time of your grandmother’s ball, it will be in your hands.”

"Then I suppose we're here until at least Samhain." A few weeks in 1885 won't do you any harm, but it makes your smile flicker slightly at the thought of missing your own Samhain ball. It makes you wonder how Allison and Eddie are doing – what they're doing – and if Yayo has even explained what's going on.

“Delightful.” She winks at you, even as she speaks properly. “You and I will have to have tea again then. I will call on you?”

"Any time." In the back of your mind you vaguely recall that the appropriate length of a social call in this time period is something absurd like fifteen minutes, and you figure that period must be up. "We're staying with the Cornelius Vanderbilts until Friday, then returning to Newport."

Nodding, she understands your reasoning and bites her lip. “I will be attending the opera tomorrow night, will you be attending as well?”

"My grandparents were kind enough to let us use their box." An actual box at the opera sounded like a beautiful night to you and Annie had been over the moon to bring Emmanuel to the Academy of Music. "My soulmate has never been to an opera before, so we should be in for a fun night."

“Then I will see you at intermission.” Lina decides with a warm smile. “I have to admit that I am very glad you came to tea. It had been a long time since I have talked about…things.”

"I'm glad I wasn't too nervous to accept." Standing from the sofa, you have just enough time to compose yourself before a footman steps up to the drawing room door. You can see your gloves and reticule lying on the table in the foyer and you know that that's your signal. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Astor. I look forward to seeing you again."

“Call me Lina.” She demands softly, setting the book down and leaning in to give you a quick hug. “We are sisters after all.”

"I will see you tomorrow night, Lina." You squeeze her back gently before striding from the room and accepting your things from the footman with a smile. Whatever you had expected this visit to be, it was nothing like that at all, and you're all the more glad for it as you get into the carriage.

As soon as the door closes, the bat that had been sitting up on top of the curtain flutters down and lands in your lap, squawking.

"Well, hey Cutie pie. I know you." It's all you can do not to burst out into giggles, but you scoop Bat Max up in both hands and let him snuggle into your chest as the carriage lurches and starts off down the street to take you back to the Vanderbilt's house. "You're never going to believe the visit I just had," you tell him honestly, blowing out a deep sigh.

Max turns his head and practically sticks it down your bodice, thankful that the tea dress is lower cut than your traveling dress. Flapping his wings and squeaking in response to you.

"If you wanted to grope me, you could do it in human form," you snort, giggling at the little bat's antics. "So it turns out..." you cuddle your soulmate's animal form as the carriage bumps and jostles along the road, hand wrapped around his small body to keep him safe against you. "The legendary Mrs. Lina Astor? Is a witch."

Snuggled happily between your breasts, Max trills, hating that he has to pull away, but he can’t transform in your dress. “What?!?” He demands as soon as he is very much in a human form again, eyes bugged out in surprise.

“I swear on every god I can think of,” you promise, holding your hand up like it’s some kind of solemn oath. “But it gets crazier. She’s a fucking time traveler, too!”

“Bullshit.” Max huffs, not thinking you are a liar, but who can that be?

“I swear!” The way you practically double over cackling — or you would have doubled over if not for the corset — tells him how dead serious you are. “She was born in 1965. Saw herself in history books and knew she had to come back.”

“Isn’t that a mind fuck?” Max’s eyes widen. “One of the most historical female figures in America is a time traveler.”

“She’s going to make me a copy of her grimoire,” you murmur, voice full of awe as you lean into your soulmate’s side. “I can’t fucking believe I found another time traveler. And by accident!”

“It seems as if she recognizes something about you.” He worries about that slightly, but with Mrs. Astor as an ally, it would smooth a lot of issues for you should they arise.

“She noticed my eyebrows.” It’s such a stupid detail to you that it’s laughable, but it’s completely on point when you look at it. The fact that you had gone to the salon with Allison just the day before everything happened is what made your appearance stick out to a woman who actually knew what eyebrow waxing was. “She said she’d help me. So I can get us back safely. But…the copy of her grimoire won’t be ready until Samhain. So it looks like we have two more weeks in 1885.”

“I won’t mind that.” Max admits with an easy grin. “Although you might.” He snorts, lifting a brow. “You start your period in two weeks.”

“Pain killers in this time have cocaine and heroine. I am not taking a damn thing.” You’re not surprised at all that your blood drinking soulmate with a superhuman sense of smell already knows your cycle, so you just bypass that face completely. “I will be begging for hot chocolate, though.”

“All the hot chocolate you can drink.” He promises with a smirk. “I think your mother likes my hot chocolate too.”

“She does.” And of course he’s smug about that. He deserves to be. “But you can’t cave and give her the recipe. She used to make me Swiss Miss when I was a kid.”

“Oh no.” He huffs. “This is my secret recipe.” He insists. “You only get that when you’ve been married to me for a hundred years.”

"Real married or pretend married?" You tease, grinning as you snuggle deeper into his side.

“Real.” He snorts. “Have to make sure you’re with me for me and not my hot chocolate.” He teases. “Although, before I forget….do you want to dance tonight?”

"I'd love to." Your hand slips gently into his, fingers threading together, and you squeeze his hand in yours. With your head on his shoulder at the carriage bumps along the road, this is pretty damn close to bliss.

“Good.” Max’s fingers caress your palm. “I hired a little band of musicians to play for us after Alice said I could use the ballroom tonight.”

"You hired a band?" Reeling back to look him in the eye, your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline in surprise. "What's the occasion? Did I not know it was your birthday or something?"

“No.” If he was still living, his cheeks would be scorching hot, but he does look a little embarrassed. “Since it’s…since you want to…” he waggles his brows suggestively in an endearing immature way. “I wanted to make it special. A night you wouldn’t forget.” He also wants to show you that you deserve some to put in the effort for you.

"Honey..." Your gasp, you have realized since being with someone who doesn't need to breathe, is so uniquely human. He might be looking slightly embarrassed, but your jaw is on the floor of the carriage and tears have sprung up into your eyes as you stare at him. "You—really?" It's so far outside of the realm of what you could ever have expected that you don't even know what to say. "For...me?"

“Was it dumb?” He had been sure that you would love it. “It’s dumb. I should have asked, right?” He panics and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dolly, I just wanted to make it special.”

"Max." Tugging on his hand slightly makes him look at you, and you shake your head fiercely even as you reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "That is the sweetest, most thoughtful, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me and if we weren't already engaged I'd been asking you to marry me right here in this carriage." The watery shine in your eyes is nothing less than pure happiness and pride, and you lean forward to kiss him with soft surety. "In fact, I'm prepared to say fuck it and get married right here in 1885, just so I can proudly call you my husband for real."

He stares into your eyes for a moment, the unease fading and he bites his lip. “I just wanted you to feel special.” He admits quietly. “You are special. And I want you to believe it.”

"My whole adult life, no one has ever believed in me or loved me the way you have." It's somehow simultaneously exhilarating and humbling, the magnitude to which Max's love is worn entirely on his sleeve. It's obvious, not just evident, and you never thought that you were worth someone's entire devotion the way Max has given every ounce of himself over to loving you. "I hope I give back even half of what you do. And I'm glad we have literally all the time in the world for me to learn to love you exactly as well as you love me. Because you're special too, sweetheart."

“Of course I am.” He flashes you a smirk that is pure bravado, and more than a little facade, but he won’t argue with you. It would be pointless when you would say you weren’t worth it to him.

"I just never want you to doubt it, that's all." Max deals with his insecurities in very different ways than you do. You know that. So instead of huffing at him or rolling your eyes or anything of that sort, you just smile and kiss the corner of his mouth again.

“I knew I should have gone with you.” Max pouts, but he knows his presence might have derailed the conversation.

"Today will hardly be the last that we hear or see of Lina Astor," you remind him with a grin. "She might even pop up to 2023 to see us sometime."

“That would be pretty fucking cool.” Max muses. “Her husband has certainly made enough money to support them.”

"I don't know if he's ever actually time traveled with her, but it would be pretty fun if they popped into the future to visit." The two of you lean back again in the carriage, resting against each other's sides as it pulls around the corner of the avenue. "Can you imagine throwing a ball in 2023 and having an Astor show up?"

“No one would know who they were.” Max points out. “They could move through the time in complete anonymity.”

"Unless we find the one person who is like...an Astor family historian or something." That person must exist, you're sure of it. But thankfully, you definitely don't know them. Although if you did? That would be an interesting introduction. "You do know that if I get my time traveling down as well as hers, we could do that, too?"

“Has she travelled to other times as well?” He asks, confused as he wonders. Could that explain why the Astors had a golden touch in business?

"Visits are so short here that I didn't really have time to ask," you admit sheepishly. "But I offered for her to come and visit us in our time and she didn't immediately shut me down or anything, so I have to think it's possible. It's magic not like...a wormhole or a tear in the space-time continuum, right? So theoretically a witch who can master it should be able to pick their destination just like Marty McFly plugging a date into the Delorian."

“Do they make it in a broom model?” Max jokes, chuckling at his own humor when you roll your eyes. “It’s funny and you know it.”

“I’m getting a bumper sticker for abuela’s fancy car when we get home,” you inform him, laughing under your breath at your own bad joke. “My Other Ride Is a Broom.”

“You would not put a sticker on that car.” Max is horrified in a decidedly male way about that, his eyes wide and anguished. “My car’s probably been towed off, or stolen.”

“I’m sure Yayo had it picked up. After all— he knows where we are.” The carriage rolls to a stop and you stretch as much as your dress allows. “Home sweet temporary home.”

“What a temporary home it is.” Max snorts, admiring the grandeur of the facade. “I could see having a gothic style architecture if we were here permanently. Play up the spooky vibes.”

“Maybe we should build a house anyway,” you joke with a grin. “Come and go as we like once I figure out how to get us back and forth.”

“Which house in history has an ambiguous past?” Max asks, lifting a brow curiously.

“There’s a lot of them.” Off the top of your head there’s things like Boldt Castle in New York and the Winchester Mystery House. “And I bet Yayo would take care of it for us.”

“Hmmmm.” Max is thoughtful a moment before he shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps it’s one of ours.” He tells you. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe we’ll get back and Mrs. Taylor will hand us an extra set of keys.” The thought makes you grin, and the carriage jostles just as one is the Vanderbilt’s footmen comes out to open the door and lend you a hand. What seemed unnecessary and dramatic in period films now makes perfect sense. If you didn’t have help getting out of this carriage you’d never be able to find the sidewalk for all the dress you have to wear.

Max managed to turn into a bat before the footman opened the door. That way he will not cause any questions amongst the staff about how he wasn’t with you and then he was. Luckily for stealth, the dips and flounces hide your bat-ified soulmate from sight and you just climb the steps into the house neatly after saying thank you to the footman without anyone being any wiser.

Max smirks a batty little smirk and clings to the folds of your outfit, enjoying being carried into the house with no one the wiser.

******

When Mrs. Vanderbilt also falls in love with an idea, she isn’t one to sit on it. Max asking for the ballroom to dance with his bride sounded like the most thoughtful and romantic thing that she had ever heard of. She had pointed him in the direction of a small orchestra, and had personally gone to the kitchen to have the idea of a dinner for two planned out with the cook with a footman assigned to serve the quiet meal.

There were flowers everywhere. She must have sent Renee out to purchase every flower from every corner within a ten block radius. Bouquets of them set around a small garden table that has been laid out for two, a champagne bucket beside it. The candles and glass lanterns low enough to give the enormous room a romantic, intimate glow. You had been hustled through another bath, a fresh ball gown that had to come from somewhere, although you don’t remember seeing it amongst your purchases even though it is vaguely familiar, and some of Alice’s own jewels around your neck when you are escorted into the room to find Max waiting for you. His own bath done and his tailored tuxedo making him look every inch the dashing, handsome vampire that he is.

“This is a lot more than just dancing…” you gasp, one gloved hand going straight to your heart as you look around. The Vanderbilt’s expansive ballroom looks like it has been taken over by a fairy kingdom with the way it overflows with blossoms, and you look to Max in awe. “It’s stunning, love. You’re… you’ve…” There really aren’t words for the way your heart swells in your chest, and you walk over to him with sure steps to wrap your arms around him. “My soulmate is the sweetest man in the whole world,” you murmur against his chest.

“I didn’t do all this.” Max admits with a shake of his head. “I just mentioned that I wanted it to be special.”

“No?” You pull back from him, incredulous, and look around then down at yourself. “This dress?”

“Well…” he shrugs. “I asked Alice if there is a dress that was suitable for a night of dancing.”

“So I need to write Alice the world’s best thank you note for hosting us. That’s what you’re saying?” Looking at the pair of you together in the nearby mirrored wall paneling, though, your eyes widen in recognition. “I know this dress!” You realize just a second later.

“Really?” Max frowns for a moment and tilts his head. “From where?”

“From the attic.” Your eyes are wide when you look back at him and you practically giggle. “The day that we all dressed up and went to the mansion?” It seems like years and years ago that you were first getting to know the girls in the Newport coven, and the pang of missing them hits deeply. “Allison wore this.”

“How interesting.” He guides you over to the table and pulls out a chair for you to sit down.

"I guess it goes to show that this was supposed to happen?" When he sits down across from you, the two of you exchange a shared, soft smile. "Maybe we shouldn't be surprised anymore? Since life has thrown us so many curveballs already."

“It’s been nothing but adventure since you’ve arrived.” Max admits with a chuckle. “But I’ve enjoyed the ride. How about you?”

"I wouldn't change a single thing." And you really wouldn't. Even the parts filled with uncertainty or fear have brought you closer together, but more than anything he has given you strength and confidence that you never had before. Loving Max has made you a better person, inside and out. "And I'm very excited for every adventure that is still to come."

Smirking proudly, Max takes the bottle of champagne from the bucket and looks at it and then at you. “Sweetheart….do you want me to have this taken away?” He asks softly. “I don’t think Alice knew.”

"If you want to have some, it's okay." He likely won't, having insisted since the day he found out why you don't drink that he will abstain right along with you. But it's also not like this meal will hold much interest for him considering his preferred diet, so you give him the choice.

The bottle goes back in the bucket and he shakes his head. “I’m good.” He knows that you wouldn’t want any, but he always wants to continue to make sure that you know that if you want to have some again, you have that option.

The footman, confused by the turn of phrase, seems to understand that champagne will not be necessary and steps forward to remove the ice bucket and its contents. “I’ll let Alice know that we don’t drink alcohol when I thank her for tonight,” you tell Max. “It’s…all of this is absolutely beautiful.”

“Whatever you want to tell her, baby.” Max from before would offer advice, but he has learned that you just want to explain and not have your feelings or ideas overruled. “Tonight is about you and I want it to be perfect.”

"Tonight is about us." It's about growing closer and about this last, large step forward. You can't be sure if it's taken longer than you thought or far less time than you would have imagined, but having now spent enough nights actually sleeping with Max along with getting to know him, the time for euphemistic sleeping together feels exciting.

He might not feel that way, but he doesn’t argue. Knowing that it’s important for you that he also be included. His soulmate is actually very considerate and he is grateful for that. “Do you want to eat before we dance?” He asks with a grin. “Or work up an appetite?”

"I would hate to interrupt the chef's schedule." According to your abuela, meals in this time are a well-orchestrated dance all in their own right, and you look to the footman for any kind of confirmation or denial of a firm schedule existing. "Might we have time for a turn or two before the meal begins?"

The man smiles at the question, thinking briefly, and almost bows to you with his deep nod. "I will make sure of it, Mrs. Phillips. Please, enjoy yourselves," he says before excusing himself.

The tails of the tuxedo are something that Max believes should still be around in his own time, flicking them out as he stands and glides around the table. “Will you waltz with me, Mrs. Phillips?” He asks, bowing as any gentleman of the time would. Your Yayo had spent time to make sure that Max fit in and did not make any social blunders.

"Mr. Phillips, I would be delighted." You're both up and out of your chairs again, and the leader of the small band that has been hired takes Max's cue to strike up a lively but simple waltz. The man clearly took working up an appetite literally, and you have to smile as Max puts one hand around your waist and draws you in close – a perfect ballroom frame supporting both of you in place before he leads you into the dance.

Like every time Max has danced with you, he is struck by how seamless it is. It’s as if you and he become one at that moment and move in perfect coordinated unison. There’s not a split second’s hesitation, no faltering. Working easily as if you had been partners for a lifetime, which one day will be true.

The swells in the music become dips and turns, the swaying of your frame in Max's keeping you in time and making sure no feet ever get stepped on. The movement is smooth as silk and completely entrancing, although you know that some of your favourite moves are impossible in a gown this large. All that matters is that you and Max stay connected, moving together with fluidity and grace. Sometimes it feels like the happiest you've ever been are these moments dancing with Max, and you wonder if tonight might somehow equal that or make it feel even more magical than it already does.

The mood is already romantic, the music and the dance coupled with the lighting and what both of you know is to come. It’s fairy tale quality and still Max wishes for more. Wanting you to remember tonight forever, looking back at the moment that you truly became his and he became yours. For all his easy flirtations and past liaisons, he wants to continue to romance his soulmate, for everyday to be an opportunity for you to fall more in love with him.

"You're thinking awfully hard about something," you murmur when he pulls you back to his chest after a turn. His expression of concentration is so easy to pick out, and always makes you want to smooth your thumb over his forehead to soothe the creases away.

“Thinking about you.” He admits easily. “How you deserve so much more. How special you are.” He knows you will protest, but he will just have to dance with you more.

"The perfect example of why we're soulmates." Humming softly, you squeeze his shoulder with your off hand and offer him a soft smile. "We think the world of each other and nothing of ourselves." He has masked it with bravado for pretty much his entire life, but when it comes down to it, he has just as many issues with how he perceives himself as you do. "I love you, Max. Completely. You're the most special thing in the world to me, so if I'm as special as you say we're a hell of a team."

The words are the soft, sweet ones that he has craved his entire life and he savors them. Tucking you against his body and closing his eyes. “We are a hell of a team.” He insists. “Now we just need to find out what dancing between the sheets looks like for us.”

He manages to say it quietly enough that it doesn't echo across the ballroom, keeping it for your ears only, and you giggle with soft delight. You're actually excited for this, which isn't something that you were sure you would ever feel again. "I think it'll be very rhythmic," you tease.

He chuckles and nods. “A steady, continuous rhythm.” He promises. Unlike any previous lovers, Max doesn’t get tired. Any changes in the pace would be because he fumbles or he wants to change, not because he’s unable to keep it up.

"Mr. Phillips, I think that counts as scandalous," you hum, fanning yourself with your own hand dramatically and wishing that just this once you actually had one of those fancy hand fans to tease him with.

"You would faint in shock at all the scandalous things that I would do to you, Dolly." Max snorts playfully, sending you a hot look as he dips you low and presses his face into your breasts before slowly dragging you upright again.

“Maybe I would.” Considering there is an entire group of strangers in the room, you demure a little even though you’re shivering with anticipation on the inside. “Perhaps I am terribly proper and ladylike and this is where I’ve belonged all along.”

“I can see that.” He growls, flashing his fangs at you playfully for a split second. “And I am the wicked vampire ready to defile you.”

When you giggle and have to smother a snort, it’s because you’re sure that anyone overhearing this would assume you were really into sexy role playing or at least fantasy foreplay. When the fact is, it’s just who you are. A little silly, a lot romantic, and entirely devoted to making each other happy.

Around the room, your skirts swish and sway as he leads you. Speeding up and then slowing down along with the music. His eyes always on you as he twirls you around the dance floor. Aware that some of the Vanderbilt staff have peeked in, but it doesn't bother him, never minding an audience.

They're peaking in from around the corner screen and through the pocket doors at the end of the room, and you're dimly aware of their presence without ever minding it for a single second. Renee is probably with them, which makes you smile, and you hope she is enjoying the attention of fielding all sorts of questions about Miss Brown's mysterious new friends.

Max spins you again, taking this as seriously as any dance competition. He’s not expecting perfection but it seems that together, you move flawlessly. Making him proud of your abilities and he beams as he pulls you close again.

When the song draws to a close, Max holds you close to his chest instead of going for some dramatic end pose, letting the last strains of music fade away with you held fast to him as your heart beats wildly out of time. After a moment you become dimly aware of a soft clapping and glance over at the band, all of whom are politely applauding your performance. Your cheeks burn hot instantly and you laugh, but curtsy. It must not be often that they get a private show like this.

Max grins, proud of you and his movement shows it as he guides you back to the table for the first course. “My little ballroom dancer.” He coos softly. “So perfect.”

“I’m just following your lead, love,” you remind him softly. There is nothing but pure love in your eyes.

“Nothing I love more than to lead you around the dance floor, and hopefully something more tonight.” He smirks slightly and helps you sit down.

“I think we’ve moved past hope and into certainty.” As you sit down you give his hand a squeeze. You’re ready. Completely ready.

“Never want you to feel like you can’t end things immediately.” Max sits down and he immediately reaches for your hand.

“I know.” And you appreciate it more than you can say. “But I don’t think that will be the case.” If you’re honest, you’ve started to crave the closeness of him, so tonight is exactly what you want.

“I guarantee it won’t.” He winks at you playfully. “But I do want my wife to tell me exactly what she expects of her husband.”

“I promise.” And you will. Just…not where an army of servants can overhear every detail. That conversation is reserved for when you’re actually alone.

He can see the way your eyes flicker to the staff and he hums. “As you wish, Queenie.”

Dinner is gorgeous. An intricate dance all its own, executed with a precision that you really have to admire. Alice’s staff is amazing and the food is to die for. The band plays several more lovely songs for you, and you and Max dance well into the night. When you finally thank them for their time and go upstairs for the evening, you feel like you’re floating on air.

Max marvels at how warm and soft your hand is in his. Waiting for you to start sweating or even get slightly clammy from nerves, but you never do. Just soft sighs of happiness and beguiling smiles as you look over at him. "Tired, sweetheart?"

"Not at all." You've said goodnight to Renee and to Emmanuel's valet already, telling them you don't need help getting ready to sleep tonight, and that leaves just you and Max alone in your room together with a fire to keep you warm. "I do want to go to bed, though."

______

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