#deceased and giddy

[arabella-strange]

Also the Essek (and Astrid) of it all should not detract from the other absolutely enormous development we got hours and hours ago,

Callowmoore "do you want some company" to "I just want to wake up with you" 0-to-60 in 4.5 seconds

[carry-on-every-neverland-magic]

GUYS I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT EVERY because I noticed something

OKAY I was watching the clip again for the 100x and replaying it at slowest speed possible lol and it looks like Crowley kinda moves forward into Aziraphale indicating this kiss will be BOOM I mean we knew because the way he grabs his coat asdfgkhfdsha I FEEL SICK IN THE BEST FUCKING WAY AND NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS GUYYYS 

ITS REVERSE WALLL SCENE FOR SURE

[azudarlings]

azul has a thing where he can't say the words 'i love you,' quite yet to jamil, but he wants to so badly. it's in his voice, when he wishes jamil good-night, in his touch that lingers a bit too long, and surely, it's in his eyes, when he's watching jamil, a soft kind of affection azul doesn't know how to show. but he wants to show it--he wants jamil to know how special he is to azul. he ends up coming up with a solution--when he's sitting with jamil, the two of them sitting by each other as they silently worked on homework, their shoulders practically pressed into each other. they always ended up touching in some way when they're together--despite all of azul's talk and jamil's own words, it seems they were most comfortable when there was nothing said between them. azul and jamil both were people who had always had to hide their emotions, had to put on a facade and bottle everything up--it wouldn't be so easy to pour all his feelings out to jamil, no matter how much jamil wanted him to. (because azul has an aching desire inside of him that wants to be known, he wants to be known. he desperately wants to be able to drop his facades and lies and be vulnerable, let himself go and not have to be terrified if he'll be accepted for the person he actually is. he doesn't have to worry around jamil, he knows he doesn't, but in the back of his mind, something whispers that he isn't good enough, that jamil deserves better, and there's another voice that sounds suspiciously like his love (referring to jamil because azul will refer to jamil as 'my love' to himself) that snaps that if jamil didn't love him, he wouldn't have let azul get close to him at all. if jamil didn't love him, why would he have let azul see his genuine self?) jamil had leaned his head on azul's shoulder, slightly curling into him, and azul decides now is time to use his solution. he taps jamil's thigh thrice, seeing jamil's eyes dart to look at him through the corner of his eye. tap. tap. tap.

i love you. "what?" he asks, and azul swallows. "it means i," he starts, and he realizes he can't say the rest of the sentence--love you. he can't say it, but he wants to so badly, so-- azul scribbles it on a piece of paper and passes it to jamil. it means i love you. he doesn't look at jamil's reaction, too busy trying to ignore the way his heart hammers in his chest, the way his face burns hot and how flustered he probably looks, staring a hole into his textbook but not registering a single word. there's a moment, then jamil's moving a bit and azul feels a touch against his hand. tap, tap, tap. if he wasn't completely red then, he is now, his eyes darting to jamil--he's looking pointedly away from azul, at his own homework, and the faint blush covering his cheeks is enough to make azul relax slightly. he moves his own hand to where jamil's was resting on the floor, and returns the gesture, three quick taps, and quickly goes back to looking at his homework before jamil can turn. he gets another in response. tap, tap, tap. and it becomes something between them--a way to say the words without saying them, an excuse for them to touch each other. tap, tap, tap. when jamil gets the highest score in their entire grade on their assignment. tap, tap, tap. when he mutters a particularly biting comment under his breath, and azul can't happen but to overhear. when they finally make time for each other--just the two of them alone. when the light of the sunset makes jamil look ethereal--though he's anything but fragile.

when he visits mostro lounge just to make azul take a break. when he meets azul's eyes and azul can't help himself. when azul wants to say the words until he can't speak anymore. tap, tap, tap. on his shoulder, his hand, his back, anywhere azul can reach--until jamil does it back too, any moment he gets, a message that only azul gets to hear. they keep doing it to the point where jamil once tapped azul's cheek thrice, some day when he'd gotten up earlier than azul had (as he does everyday) and couldn't help the way his eyes lingered on the way azul looked so peaceful when he slept--on the way he was curled around jamil's arm, on how devastatingly, disastrously beautiful azul was. on how jamil loved him. it was instinct, at his point, when jamil moves his arm to lightly tap azul's cheek thrice. tap, tap, tap. he was not expecting azul to reciprocate the gesture, startling slightly at the responding tap, tap, tap. on his arm. his eyes dart to azul, but he remained asleep, his chest rising and falling peacefully. jamil blinks, dumbfounded, before he huffs out a laugh, something fond in his gaze as he watched azul. tap, tap, tap. he does it again. tap, tap, tap. azul responds.

when he visits mostro lounge just to make azul take a break. when he meets azul's eyes and azul can't help himself. when azul wants to say the words until he can't speak anymore. tap, tap, tap. on his shoulder, his hand, his back, anywhere azul can reach--until jamil does it back too, any moment he gets, a message that only azul gets to hear. they keep doing it to the point where jamil once tapped azul's cheek thrice, some day when he'd gotten up earlier than azul had (as he does everyday) and couldn't help the way his eyes lingered on the way azul looked so peaceful when he slept--on the way he was curled around jamil's arm, on how devastatingly, disastrously beautiful azul was. on how jamil loved him. it was instinct, at his point, when jamil moves his arm to lightly tap azul's cheek thrice. tap, tap, tap. he was not expecting azul to reciprocate the gesture, startling slightly at the responding tap, tap, tap. on his arm. his eyes dart to azul, but he remained asleep, his chest rising and falling peacefully. jamil blinks, dumbfounded, before he huffs out a laugh, something fond in his gaze as he watched azul. tap, tap, tap. he does it again. tap, tap, tap. azul responds.

[rainrot4me]

Don’t Close Your Eyes Yet

Summary: From the first moment he laid his eyes on you at the fairgrounds, Jack knew he needed you. So going about it the only way he knew how, he began to give you dreams of him, preparing you for the night he would eventually take you himself.

Characters: Laughing Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Obsession, stalking, somnophilia, non-con, clawing, biting, size difference, vaginal, creampie, eating out, desperation, Jack doesn’t take no for an answer, dream manipulation, kidnapping, begging, Jack is very talkative

Words: 5.2k

A/N: Did I make LJ a yandere accidentally? Yes. Just roll with it lol

To him, he had never seen something more beautiful.

Flashing lights danced across your face, hair whipping as you skipped to the nearest ticket booth with your friends. Loud giggles echoed to his ears, making his painted lips curl into a blushing smile as he watched you become antsy with excitement.

Jack had been rummaging around these fairgrounds for a couple of days, scoping out potential victims coming in to enjoy the seasonal summer event, lurking behind food stalls and blending into the crowd. He was good at that: staying hidden until he wanted to be seen, practically going invisible until the time was right. Humans had such a hard time with noticing things, noticing him, so even standing amongst them, their eyes never glanced at his towering self. It just made it easier to slip kids away from their occupied families, dragging them away with the promise of a game or a prize to be won, only to become giddy with the panic that ensued afterwards, mothers and fathers losing their grip as they scoured for their already deceased child. The clown was here for the fifth night this week, the summer breeze ruffling his feathered costume as he scanned a large group of elementary schoolers rushing towards a ferris wheel, picking his target out of the litter and moving in.

Until he spotted you, elbows wrapped tight around another girl’s right behind the kids, eyes wide as you picked out which rides you wanted to try first. A couple more friends filed in behind you, obnoxiously loud as they tried to impress you, daring each other to try the more frightening ones. Jack grit his teeth, jagged pearls clenching as he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the irritable sound of desperation. Your group pushed passed him, not a single eye batting in his direction as he tried to press through you all, distance gaining between him and the small group of children making their way to another set of rides. He looked down, making sure to avoid bumping any of you as even the tallest of your friends barely reached his chest, his size overbearing as he brushed past you, barely catching your eyes as you stopped.

Jack hesitated, feet planted into the ground as he turned over his shoulder, stunned as your eyes locked with his. At first, he wasn’t sure if you were just looking through him, neck craned in some odd position at something behind his head. But as you smiled awkwardly, nodding your head as a silent hello, Jack froze, eyes wide. You could see him. Before it became awkward, Jack nodded back, watching as you turned back and continued with your friends, all of them completely unaware of the exchange that just took place. There was no fear in your gaze as you glanced back again, smiling sweetly before friends pushed you towards the ticket booth and out of the clown’s sight.

He stood stunned, not knowing what to do but knowing he couldn’t let you slip, couldn’t let you out of his sight. It had felt like ages since someone had noticed him, actually noticed him. He had always chosen when he wanted attention, letting his appearance become visible to onlookers who otherwise wouldn’t have felt his presence at all, giving them a jump of fear at his arrival. But you saw him anyway, despite his invisibility, despite his ability to blend. For some reason, you weren’t afraid of his chilling appearance, brushing him off as another circus carnie and being more polite to him than anyone ever cared. Over the last several years, it had been nothing but screams and pleas, all music to his ears, of course, but some desperate tug on his nonexistent heart jumped at the civility you showed him. He needed more.

Pressing into the shadows of a taller fair ride, Jack watched you closely, the corners of his mouth jumping to a smile every time yours did. The group of kids he was after was long forgotten, intentions focused on following you towards the merry-go-round that sat in the center of the fairgrounds. He quickly followed, slipping through the unattended gates easily and hopping on the ride with you, seated on a plastic horse several rows back. As the ride started up, happy music played loudly as you giggled and slowly teetered up and down, joking with your friends. Your hair danced beautifully in the wind, bright lights and colorful tones dancing in your eyes and across your cheeks, a way that only really Jack could appreciate. 

There was no clear reason as to why you were able to see him when others couldn’t, pushing past his invisibility and meeting his gaze, but he didn’t care. For the rest of the ride and the rest of your time on the grounds, Jack made sure not to catch your attention again, watching you carefully how you interacted, your sweetheart personality pulling him ever-near. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t focus anywhere else as he watched your group grow tired and begin to head towards the exit, a boy’s arm falling lazily over your shoulders and tugging you into his truck. 

Jack didn’t care as he left groups of potential victims behind, silently following you into the parking lot and hiding in the dark spots that even you couldn’t see him. He didn’t care as he followed you home, abandoning all instincts and mind becoming fogged as he watched you crawl into bed from your window, heart skipping as you curled in. You would be his. You had to be. You didn’t have a choice.

-

You had been unnerved for weeks.

It wasn’t anything serious. No traumatic experience or humiliating incident that kept you up into the late hours of the night, like most girls your age would’ve been. Maybe having to worry about what clothes you were going to wear the next day or who liked you at work would’ve been a much better thing to stay up and think about. No, it was something much more unenjoyable.

These dreams, wild and constant, happen every night at the same time. They would all start the same, you climbing into bed comfortably and snuggling in after a long day, desperate for a relaxing slumber. But then you would doze, senses leaving you in the darkness of your room, almost on the verge of slipping… and then you would hear it. The quiet, subtle echo of carnival music, almost like a music box was winding near your bed. You knew you were asleep, consciousness floating in that weird in-between, but you were somehow still fully aware, still active in your brain even though your body wasn’t. The first time it had happened, you were afraid, and confused if you were experiencing some weird lucid dream or having a seizure, but then it happened again the next night and the next.

After the music wound for what felt like forever, the same merry tune looping in your head, you would eventually see it, the tall figure. He would stay back in the haziness of your mind, in the shadows your brain couldn’t see, but you already knew who it was. 

The clown from the fair, smiling sweetly at you, stark-white face contrasted against the darkness of your dream. He was tall, like had to bend halfway down to reach your eye level tall, his limbs lengthy in comparison. He wore the same costume he did the first night you saw him, black and white striped and decorated with a feathered collar, like a sad recreation of a children’s entertainment piece. You didn’t know why you were seeing him, or why your brain was so focused on him, but it wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it.

The first couple of times, he just stayed at a distance, watching silently as you questioned him, trying to press towards him until you were abruptly awoken and left confused. Eventually, he started getting closer, refusing to speak but at least coming into clear focus, letting you see his painted face and chilling demeanor up close. But the more you talked, the more you questioned why he was here and why you were seeing him, the more eager he got.

The dreams started getting longer, more intense on your physical as you slept, constantly waking covered in sweat. The clown's hands began to roam, your body immovable against his curious claws as he rubbed and poked you all over, smiling at the reactions that came. They were sweet at first, tucking your hair behind your ear or caressing your small hands, but they soon became feisty. The touches grew to rubs, pressing his arms around your smaller body and pushing against your skin, gripping at your clothes and tugging them away, claws so realistically scratching against your warmth. With each dream, the intensity grew, your body waking up in a horny panic to settle itself out, panting against your pillow and trying to recollect yourself. It was boggling, so confused and pent up that you couldn’t do anything but fall right back to sleep, starting the cycle all over again.

Jack watched through every night. He perched in the corner of your room, lips curling to a smile with every flinch and tug of your body as he manipulated your dreams, making you see and feel what he wanted you to. He never let you see him, disappearing into the night whenever you would wake, but always arriving the next night to watch you again. It was his favorite, the little noises that squirmed from your lips when he would press his claws between your legs in your dream, making your thighs press together on your bed. He loved it, he loved you. But, he was becoming impatient, not satisfied with just having you in your mind anymore. He had coaxed you enough, driving you to expect him now, mind already conditioned to his looks and his touch; you would be familiar now. Your body would accept him now, even if your mind didn’t.

-

Pressed in the same corner as always, he was twisting your latest dream, giving you the wonderful experience of him licking against your neck, rubbing you through your panties as you wined and thrashed on your bed. Jack snickered, long arms crossed and claws digging into his clothes as he watched, licking his spikey teeth as you arched your back. 

He had decided tonight would be it, the first time you would see him outside of your slumber. Regardless if you were ready or not, he was, and he didn’t know if he could wait much longer to get his claws around you. The clown spent the better part of the day watching you, thinking about you, obsessing over your sickly sweet self. You were perfect, a complete contrast to him, but fitting his needs perfectly. 

When you suddenly rolled to your side, curling into yourself as you panted, cheeks flushed and dark as you whined, Jack’s attention came back. The darkness of your room was lit nicely by a small nightlight, the little sun and moon design shooting pastel colors across your warm skin and making you look so lovely, enough to make the clown press off the wall. 

Your bed was small, definitely going to be barely enough for the two of you as he kneeled onto your mattress, dipping the weight and making you shift, whining from your dream. “Hi, pretty.” Jack cooed softly, brushing your hair out of your flushed face and leaning down towards you, breathing in your lovely smell. He loved everything about you, every small detail that no human would ever notice, only his unnatural abilities could pick up on. You needed him, he could smell it, feel it. Pressing his body down onto the mattress, he curled around you, spooning you against him as he wrapped his arms around your small waist, tugging you closer. You immediately relaxed against him, back arching to accommodate his large stature and legs tangling with his long ones, breathing deep as he snuggled behind. The clown’s claws danced on your skin, tugging at your clothes and brushing against your hair, smiling as he placed small kisses against your tired face. You melted into him, mind completely unaware as he still mixed in your dreams, contorting your senses to automatically crave him. 

“So small… smells good…” He mumbled against the shell of your ear, a subconscious gasp slipping as goosebumps rose. Jack kissed against your neck, minding his long nose and nibbling against your skin, slowly fading your dream out and substituting it for real life. You whined, hands gripping onto his wandering arms and tugging at them, snoring lightly. Small mumbles fell from your mouth, little confused jabbers and sleepy questions that he couldn’t quite hear, but pressed his lips to the shell of your ear anyway. “Jack.” He whispered, kissing against your neck as your browns knitted, sleep heavy on your brain. “Jack…” You mumbled back halfway through a sigh, pressing your neck against his mouth, mindlessly feeding into the clown’s growing arousal. “Jack…” You whispered again, beginning to numbly repeat the name and let it settle in your mind, Jack’s excitement bouncing at the delicious way you said it. As you continued, he began to push your shirt up, palming at your tits and tugging the fabric over your head, letting the goosebumps rise as he ran his claws down. “Pretty girl.” He smiled, nibbling against your bare shoulder.

The clown’s cock was throbbing now, nestled comfortably against your ass as he began to slowly rut against you, long tongue lapping at your warm skin. He drew a claw up, wrapping it around your tiny throat and squeezing slightly, grinning at the sigh that he pushed out as he pressed his hips against your flesh. His cock slotted perfectly between your clothed asscheeks, hips jerking and stuttering as he chased his arousal, holding your hips still as he moved. Draped slightly over you, he pinned you in place, the sheer weight of the clown securing your hips as he moaned into your ear, panting his approval as he humped against you. Your body subconsciously pressed back against him, back arching to get a better angle of his clothed cock against you, letting his claw mindlessly rouse you from your deep sleep and slowly into consciousness. He felt you stir, wrapping a claw around your jaw and turning your head, watching as your eyes slowly fluttered open. He pressed his lips to yours, tugging your cheek and shoving your lips against his, forcing a desperate makeout that your tired brain couldn’t comprehend yet. Jack panted and groaned into your open mouth, lips occasionally catching but he was too focused on rutting his hips, grinding his clothed cock against your ass as you shifted, straining against his rough grasp.

“Jack…” You sighed again, the name repeating like a quiet mantra as your tired brain tried to figure out what was happening, hips instinctively leaning into it because you felt so good despite being so dazed out. “Jack..?” You began to question, hands pressing against his claw snagged onto your hip, cheeks squished together as the clown kissed against the corner of your lips, panting against the skin. Jack dug his heels into your sheets, long limbs contorting to fit around you as you began to squirm, trying to press out of his grasp now, trying to understand what was happening. “Lay still, pretty girl…” He hissed, tip catching on the band of your panties, tugging them up as he rutted, nails digging into your soft skin. You whined, pushing on the sheets and trying to turn around, trying to see who was behind you, but the clown held you still, beginning to guide your hips with his.

It helped that you were already aroused from your dream, body already hot and bothered and easily coaxed into his movement, taking little persuasion for you to open your legs and let his cockhead nudge against your clothed entrance. You mewled, hissing against his teeth nibbling into your skin, little welts appearing across your shoulder. “Feel how hard you make me… Can’t wait to be inside… Can’t wait…” Jack was huffing, burying himself into the crook of your neck as he pushed his hard cock against you, practically forcing your panties into your entrance as he nudged at your hole, trying to make himself inside despite his slacks covering him. He throbbed, claws desperate and tongue curling against your neck, lapping at your sweat and scent of excitement. You didn’t have to look anymore, didn’t have to guess as the ruffles of his collar pressed against the back of your head, long limbs swallowing you, dreams had revealed enough for you to know, enough for you to grind down against him. How he was here, how he had gotten into your bed, how he even knew where you lived, you were too tired to guess, too tired to do anything but let his claws guide you under him, his body sliding down yours. This dream was more intense than the others, it felt real, you tried to convince yourself you were still asleep, still dozing alone in your bed during this wet dream.

But as claws slipped into your panties and desperately tugged off of your soaked cunt, pulling them off of your ankles, you began to question. Jack’s large claw snagged around both of your ankles, holding them in the air as he kneeled, sliding his suspender straps off of his shoulders. You watched through sleepy eyes, eyelashes fluttering as he let the straps fall at his hips, unbuttoning his slacks and tugging them down, letting his angry cock slip out, balls tugged out and laid heavy between his legs. You gasped, whining as he kneeled closer, prying your legs apart and grinning at your sopping pussy. “Gonna eat you out, pretty girl. Gonna make that pussy cum, m’kay?” He chuckled, bright eyes roaming your tiny body compared to his, laying down on his chest as he wrapped his long arms around your thighs, dragging you closer.

You squirmed and whined, letting your hands run down your body and to his wild dark hair, snagging in the mess and tugging his face closer, letting your thighs press open. You had no fear, blissfully unaware of how real this situation was as Jack licked your folds open, long tongue twirling and flicking against your lips. He groaned, kissing against your soaked arousal before pressing his tongue in, nudging the muscle into your entrance and letting your back tug off the bed, curling your hips down onto his tongue as you moaned. Jack was so into it, so focused on pushing his tongue as deep as he could that he could hear you begin to panic, tugging his hair back as you realized that tongue was far longer than you anticipated. It jolted you out of your tired haze, the sensation of your walls stretching around the clown’s large tongue made you keenly aware of just how little this felt like a dream anymore, how real this all seemed. Jack just continued, curling and twisting his tongue along your plush walls, wanting only to soak in your lovely taste and get you ready for him, what he knew you needed. 

You began to jabber your sobs, mumbling against your moans and whining for Jack to stop, hips twitching against the overwhelming feeling. You could hardly breathe, every press of his tongue against your g-spot making you suck in a ragged breath and cry out, gasping for relief. Jack began to thrust his cock into the bed below, rutting against the soft sheets as he became so turned on by your noises, bright eyes clenched shut as he worked. He whined into your cunt, sloppy and messy movements pushing slobber and arousal against his chin, smearing it along your thighs and cheeks, Jack losing himself in your taste. “So tasty…” He babbled against your folds, sucking your lips as he gushed into your cunt, cock whining to be buried inside and stretching you open. You were clawing at the sheets, pushing against his head as you pleaded for him to stop, overstimulation rushing over you as you stuttered, clit pulsing as your thighs shook, begging to close. Jack wouldn’t listen, he could barely even hear you over the roar in his ears, his primal urge to stuff you ruling out any remorse he felt for your aching pussy. 

Despite your pleas, you were cumming quickly against his tongue. Walls clenching and hips spasming around the girth of his tongue, clenching down tight as your arousal soaked in. Jack whined, moaning loud into your folds as he sucked and lapped at your juices, claws dug tight into your thighs as he moved his head with your flinching hips, refusing to let up until he tasted every drop. You cried, sobbing into your hands as he held you still, breath heavy and chest panting as you rode your high, overstimulation pinching at your senses. Jack had rutted a wet spot into your sheets, cock leaking profusely as he lifted off, sliding his soaked tongue out of your dripping cunt and grinning, panting against your thighs. 

You could barely look through hooded eyes at the mess he had made, white face paint smeared across your thighs and folds, sweat and arousal smearing the paint against your skin. It was enough to make Jack cum, his cock twitching hard in the air as he sat back, admiring his paint all over you. You whined, pushing against his claws wrapped around your thighs as he tugged them open again, positioning his hips against yours.

He nestled his cock against your cunt, gripping the length and slapping it down against your clit and making you jump, sensitivity pulsing through you. “No… please…” You whined, trying to clench your thighs together but he held your ankles easily, holding them arm's length apart. “Why are you this turned on if you don’t want it, pretty girl?” He mused, dropping one of your ankles to line his tip with your entrance, the girth much bigger than any cock you had taken before and making your skin chill as he began to push. You frantically clawed at the sheets, trying to push away from the clown. “It won’t fit.” You whined, pushing your hands to cover your aching cunt as Jack laughed, abandoning your legs to wrap a claw around your wrists, pining them above your head as he repositioned, nudging himself in. “You’ll learn to take it…” He chuckled, using his free hand to hold your soft hips down as he pushed in, the tip popping in against the wetness and warmth of your cunt. It probably wouldn’t fit as comfortably as you wanted it to, but when your tightness began to squeeze around Jack’s already-about-to-cum cock, he didn’t mind hearing your desperation if it meant he got to feel you. 

“You were made for me, lovely.” Jack hissed against your ear as he lay on top of you, slowly guiding your hips down as he pushed in, stretching your cunt impossibly wide as you cried, sobbing into the lips that began to press against yours. This wasn’t a dream, not anymore, you realized. A claw held down your wrists above your head, the other sliding under your knee to push your leg back, opening your entrance wider to give the clown a better angle. He moaned loudly, laughing through whines as he began to shallowly thrust, the first couple inches pushing in and out of your cunt as you sobbed, straining against him. “That’s it. Let me in, let me fuck you like you need to be…” He smiled, lazy laughs and heavy groans filling your open mouth as he sucked on your lips, nibbling his teeth into your jaw. With every thrust he aimed to go deeper, to push his cock in further than the last one.

It was devastating for your cunt, the poor sensitive thing struggling to balance out the pleasure and pain that was wrecking you as you arched, trying to open up more. “Can you feel me inside? Do you even know how good you feel?” Jack laughed, moving to bite down against your neck, hissing as he licked against the wound, kissing down your shoulder. He was getting deeper down, cunt relaxing the longer he thrust, walls fluttering around the desperate length that begged to bottom out, getting ever closer. It was so deep you felt like you couldn’t breathe right, gut flinching and contorting with every press against your sensitive gut. 

Loud skin slapping echoed as Jack’s cock began to press against the deepest part of your cunt, nudging against your womb and fucking you open quickly. His balls slapped your ass, the heavy mounds smacking down as he leaned back, letting go of your wrists to cup his hands under your knees, pushing them back as you began to paw at his chest. “Mngonna fuck you so full… Milking me like you need it.” He panted between thrusts, tugging his hips out as far as he could before pushing back into your gushing cunt, loud squelches and soaked folds coating his length. He was close, bright eyes rolling softly as you gripped his ruffled collar, tugging against it as he snapped his hips, moaning against your skin. “You were made for me, pretty girl. Need to cum… Mngonna cum and show how good it feels in you…” He smiled, blubbering against his swollen lips as he pressed his lips with yours, whining into your mouth as he spilt.

His cum was hot and thick, pumping into your ruined cunt desperately like he truly needed you full, big with his seed. He groaned loud, eyes clenched shut as he thrust through his orgasm, milking his cock of all it was worth inside of you, twitching deep into your warmth. “That’s it… So good… Knew it would be…” He hissed, clawing into the underside of your thighs as he raised off of you, licking a stripe across your cheek and nibbling the flesh before leaning back.

You waited for him to pull out, to let his thick cum spill against your sheets, but he didn’t. He only turned you onto your side, leaving his still-hard cock nestled in your cunt as he tugged your right leg onto his shoulder, relaxing back against you. You watched through heavy, panicked eyes, clawing at your pillow as he began to thrust again, sensitive cunt screaming at you as his nudged his cum back in. You immediately began to kick your legs, pushing him away as he just pressed deeper, claw wrapping around your thigh as he wrapped around the other, tugging your body to his with every thrust. Tears spilt, the air from your lungs gasping out as Jack cried out, clenching his sharp teeth as he watched you come undone again, relishing in the way you stared back at him, eyes pleading. “Don’t close your eyes yet, pretty girl… Just one more, I need it, just one… You can take it, I know you can, yeah?” Through every thrust, he chanted some desperate coax, your answering whines and sobs combatted against your cunt that fluttered against his words, fucking his cum deeper into you. Even though your mind refused, Jack had conditioned you, preparing you for him. Even if you didn’t know it, your body wanted him, beckoned for him, needed him. He couldn’t let you down.

Pushing his chest down, he bent your leg on his shoulder, pushing it down and opening your cunt wider, shoving his hips so deep even he gasped against the tightness. “Jack-” You cried, palming against his claws and scratching at his shirt, trying to ground yourself as your body racked under his tugs, bones going limp under him. You were so tired, so delusionally overstimulated you couldn’t physically resist, only your unheard begs falsely wishing for relief, but you knew better, knew that every time your cunt strained around the girth it was a heavenly feeling. “What, pretty? C’mon, talk.” Jack whined, kissing against your calf and nibbling at the skin, turning you onto your back to tug your other leg up onto his opposite shoulder, pushing them both back. With every thrust of his hips, his cum leaked out of your entrance, pooling between your cheeks and mixing with your arousal.

You cried at the deepness, every slap of his hips pushing his cock against your g-spot, nails clawing against his shoulders as his claws rested on your tits, massaging the mounds as he thrust. “So big… Deep…” You gasped out, arching into the feeling as your stomach coiled, your orgasm teetering at the edge. Jack grinned, jagged teeth shining against your nightlight as he continued, spreading his knees to get a better push, skin slapping loud enough to echo against the small room. “Can you cum again, lovely? Cum for me?” You nodded, running your hands into his messy hair and holding stable, tugging as he grinned, speeding his thrusts to a nauseating pace.

You were cumming around his cock hard, hips jerking and slamming against his as you writhed, eyes rolling back as your cunt swallowed him deeper. “Just like that…” Jack mewled, letting his own thrusts become lazy as he grit, whining against the tightness of your cumming walls. The clown was quick to follow, spilling yet again deep inside, fucking his orgasm into you as he refused to stop, pushing your senses into overload as you sobbed, tears running down your cheeks. Jack let your ankles slip off of his shoulders, pressing his chest down against yours as he licked into your mouth, pressing his lips down as you milked his cock dry, tugging the last of his orgasm through with your own. 

You both panted heavily, desperate touches continuing against each other’s skin as you both made out, lying the afterglow of your mutual ecstasy. “So pretty… my pretty girl… mine.” Jack slipped between kisses, letting his cum leak as he slowly pulled out, popping the tip of his cock out of your tight rim. You whined, letting his claws feel your soft skin as he tugged you against him, letting your eyes flutter closed as you felt his cum spill onto the sheets below.

Sleep overtook you, the early hours of the morning tugging at your sore bones as you relished in the feeling of no more perverted dreams keeping you stirred. But when your bed lay empty the next morning, sheets askew and cum stained into the fabric, your friends would have no clue where you went. They would have no clue whose arms you were draped in, carried closely through the woods and out of sight and reach of anyone who wanted you. You were special, different from the mindless humans he preyed upon, you were his. He had claimed you fair and square.

No one wanted you as Jack did. And no one would ever get the chance to again.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[eetherealgoddess]

TR: ꨄYANDERE HEADCANONSꨄ

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, & Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Characters are 18+

❦We already know that these mfs have a crazy streak to them. That’s why we love them :) ❦

❣︎A lil gift for my unpredictability. Hopefully I’ll get to some of the pending requests soon. If not, just know that i love youuuu <3

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Mikey: Manjiro Sano, publicly known as Mikey, has been your favorite, famous racer since you found him unexpectedly on social media a couple years ago. You’ve never really been into the motorcycle scene until you saw the attractive blonde when swiping through your for you page.

You’ve even gone out of your way to visit him at the different raceways and arenas he’s raced at, cheering him on from afar along with the crowd’s roars. Although your passion for him was strong, you knew that you were nothing but a mere fan out of numerous supporters. An extra in his show.

What you failed to notice is that for the first time he noticed you was during the end of the first race you attended as he slowly paused in front of the crowd who cheered his name. As he observed with a genuine smile, you seemed to have caught his attention. As he eyed you, the energy you radiated as you applauded the short man caused him to envision his deceased older brother, along with the rest of his family who stood beside the visualization of Shinichiro.

During this time, you could’ve sworn you made eye contact before he swiftly turned away, slightly giddy at the smile you might have received.

Unknown to you Mikey’s fixation on you continues to intensify, his behavior towards you becoming incredibly invasive as well as a distant attachment forming to the idea of you. He begins to monitor your every move on social media, watching your every update and interaction with others. As his attraction deepens, he becomes determined to keep you close and under his control, going to great lengths to ensure you remain in his presence.

You were excited when you received a private message of your favorite racer wanting to meet you. You thought it was fake when you first noticed it until you saw the blue check mark and viewed the profile. Despite a slight uneasiness, you proceed with conversation and attend his races. The support becomes more personal as you become closer, his clinginess prominent though you can’t seem to find a care. Who wouldn’t want THE Manjiro Sano to link to them?

Time passes and you begin to realize how fast the relationship between you two is going. Before you know it, he’s basically moved you into his home as he requests your presence almost every single moment of the day. There were times when he even showed up to your job to get you off work so you could hang out. Luckily for you, your manager is a huge fan of the racer, but you were starting to become very uncomfortable with the off - putting behavior.

After more weird actions you made an attempt to distance yourself, only for him to question your loyalty and gaslight you into feeling guilty for trying to leave him, especially when you’re the closest person to him. Regardless, you held your ground, ready to live for yourself and to stop accommodating to the one you used to be a fan of.

“Let me show you how to ride a motorcycle.”

An eyebrow rose as you contemplated his ‘request.’ Shrugging you decided to allow it considering after this session you will continue distancing yourself from the needy man. Taking you to the nearest arena to practice, he showed you the basics and even displayed it on his own bike before handing it off to you.

Feeling nervous and yet the adrenaline boost causing excitement, you began on your own way around the arena, gaining momentum as you pressed the gas pedal, helmet tight on your head.

A few minutes pass when you decide to slow down, though when you hit the brake pedal, it doesn't show any signs of halting. A rush of anxiety and pure fear shoots through your chest as you desperately attempt to slow down. You attempt to scream for Mikey, turning your head to meet his gaze only to catch a quick glimpse of his stoic facial expression.

“Oh my God!”

Realizing the motorcycle was only speeding up to no end, you forcefully push yourself off the bike, landing harshly on the ground as the motorcycle falls off the trail and slams into a nearby wall, pieces flying everywhere. The pain in your body numbs out before engulfing your nerves as you groan before falling into a deep slumber.

Two months have passed since the devastating incident and your whole world has changed. You sit in your wheelchair in your former favorite’s home while he sits in between your paralyzed legs on a small stool. Your fingers trace through his blonde locks to pull half of it into a ponytail. He couldn’t help but sit with a smile, knowing that you’ll be tied to him for a while. At least for your recovery.

Unfortunately for you, the feeling of a grin was long forgotten as your whole reality became sucked into his, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Kazutora: The arcade had always been a place that held fond memories from your childhood. While it was open, you’d visit almost daily after school was released. You remember getting scolded everytime you would skip out on your homework or give minimum effort just to play on the machines and hang out with your friends. You always thought the building would be your preferred spot, even in your adulthood.

It never crossed your mind that one day, the business would shut down, the owners eventually abandoning the nostalgic structure and leaving the walls to rot. You also never thought you’d be sitting with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you lay your head down in an attempt to block your vision from what is playing out in front of you within the walls of the old arcade that used to be your comfort zone.

Unfortunately, your hearing exposed you to the disturbing impact of skin against bloody, torn flesh as fists make contact with the unconscious victim lying on the grimy cement. Your eyelids are shut tight as your hidden expression holds a grimace. Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood as the metallic taste reaches your tongue.

You ignore the blood thirsty men who cheer on the violent endeavor. Their voices echo throughout the room, making it harder for you to tune out the situation. You had only heard of Valhalla before you were forced to meet them. Your certified ‘boyfriend’ made sure to show you off once he had a hold of you, almost like a prized possession he claimed. You never even agreed to the title, but you knew not to test the unstable man.

“Kazutora.” Although your voice is muffled, he’d never miss it no matter how quiet you are. Even in a room full of intimidating men. The sound of skin connecting halts as the room goes quiet. Your grip tightens around your limbs as you hear steady footsteps come towards you. Ignoring the whistling and whispers from the males watching the display, the footsteps stop in front of you before a hand gently grips the back of your head. You could feel the moisture of the red substance seeping to your scalp, causing a shiver up your spine. The golden eyed male guides your head up, forcing you to make eye contact as you give him a distressed gaze.

“H-he only greeted me. Stop… please.” You demand, your fingers fidgeting with the tight skin against your legs as you eye him crouching in your line of vision. He gives you a blank stare, the orbs wide with an unreadable expression that causes a prominent discomfort. He removes his hand from your head as he rests his arms against his bent legs.

“You’re taking his side now? That kinda hurts my feelings, Y/n.” His head tilts as he gives a sheepish smile with his eyes closed, scratching the back of his streaked locks.

“I-I’m not!” You shriek, eager to prove him wrong so as to not rile him up more. The poor male lying on the ground got caught in the crossfire of this psychopath’s wrath all because he greeted you. You were tired of others getting hurt in the process of even being near you. He’s an innocent bystander and it isn’t fair.

“Oh, Y/n. How could you be so insensitive to your lover’s concerns?” Hanma, a guy you’ve never liked, adds fuel to the flame as he sits with his legs crossed in a chair, leaning on the palm of his hand with a sly smile. “It seems she hasn’t learned her lesson. I’d give him a few more rounds for good measure. He can take it.” He shrugs with a smug expression.

You glare at him while the rest of the men agree and add their own two cents before facing Kazutora, who only stares back at you with an intense gaze that makes you shift uncomfortably.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t talk to him again. Please just stop the violence.” You notice the blood running down his arms from his hands as it stains his pants. Your eyebrows furrow at the sight and strong smell which only grew as he placed both palms on your cheeks while kneeling. Both of your foreheads connect gently as he breathes your scent in.

“You’re mine, you know that right? You won’t ever betray me like that again?” He questions with his eyes closed. You feel his thumbs caress your skin as the blood smears, nodding your head to answer his questions.

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Sanzu: You couldn’t help but feel like someone is playing a cruel psychological prank on you. The nagging feeling of being watched no matter where you go, even in your own home. The glimpses of a shadow figure in the corner of your eye, only for you to turn your head to see nothing. You ignored it at first, continuing your days as if everything was normal.

It wasn’t until a corpse was found in your bathroom, awaiting your arrival to view the disturbing display of a decaying body. You screeched until your throat couldn’t release sound anymore. After calling the police you sat in your living room. Once the authorities reached the scene, there was no sight of any dead body.

A few weeks pass and you just got off from work, ready to shower and throw yourself on your bed. You allowed the heat of the water to relax your muscles as you rubbed along your dermis with the soapy cloth. Once you were finished, you stepped out of the bathroom in your towel before heading to your bedroom.

Once you were dressed, you hopped into bed and switched your lamp off, the moonlight shining through the cracked curtains.

Although your eyelids were closed, you were interrupted from drifting off to sleep when a palm covered your mouth as a weight held you down. Your eyes shoot open, an icy blue glaring down at you through the darkness, as well as pink strands draping over the male’s shoulders. The lump in your throat burns as the tears threaten to fall out of your eyes as you stare in fear at the growing, scarred smile.

You watch as his free hand comes towards his mouth, his index finger pointed upwards and landing against his lips.

“Shh…” He motions for you to stay quiet as he feels the vibration of your whimpers against his skin. The free hand moves behind him before a shiny object is pulled out and pressed against your neck. Your eyes squint as the tears fall down your cheeks, body trembling as you feel the cold surface make contact with your skin.

“Did ya recognize him?” He questioned in amusement, just above a whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you searched your brain for what he could mean.

“Why would you let a scum near my pussy?” You almost jerked back at the chuckling crazy guy. You have no clue who he even is nor who he’s talking about. That is… until it hits you.

The memory of the corpse you found in the bathroom plays out in your head. At the time you weren’t really focused on the identity because of how distraught you were to find the dead body. Now that you remember, the familiarity of the male’s face wasn’t hard to depict. He had been your most recent booty call, a friend of a friend who became your temporary close friend.

How you couldn’t recognize him was because you rarely ever called each other so it was only a couple of times you hooked up. Why the hell did this guy kill him and why is he referring to your vagina as ‘his pussy?’

You take a really good look at the man in front of you to try and figure out his thinking process, when it finally clicked.

That face… those eyes… those scars.

“Haru?!” Your voice is muffled against his hand, the male you happened to meet when he was blonde and masked. The boy you went to middle school with. The quiet boy you sat with at lunch, conversing even when he didn’t respond. The boy you created a close and yet distant friendship with. The boy who slightly broke your heart when he disappeared and was never heard from again. What the hell happened to him? Was he always this psychotic?

He observed you as realization hit, the crazed grin seeming to stretch wider than before. The glint in his eyes seemed to shimmer as he leaned closer to you.

“This time, you’re coming with me.”

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Could we get some sex hcs for Dutch, John, Charles, and Arthur (maybe even both sides of the honor spectrum) for how they are in bed and what kinks you think they'd have?

Kinks HC

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan)

Warnings: smut, size kink, mommy kink, lactation kink, foot fetish, bdsm dynamics, daddy kink, sadomasochism, asphyxiation

Arthur Morgan

Size kink for sure

If you're especially smaller compared to him it drives him crazy

Would use his strength to his advantage and carry you while y'all fuck

Pins you down with his weight, holds you in place, carries you around, etc

Grips the head board...

Has probably broken a bed or two

High honor would mean he'd be a lot more considerate of your pleasure and what you want. Much gentler and passionate. Sex with high honor Arthur would feel a lot more like love making, but if you have requests for something a little rougher he'll indulge you in that. He'd be mindful of his size relative to you but it'd still be a huge turn on for him

Much like with high honor, low honor Arthur would also find a huge turn on in the size difference. Though he'd be a lot more selfish with pleasure. Not to say he wouldn't keep your enjoyment in mind, but he'd always get his nut in no matter what. One way or another. Also this man FUCKS, not necessarily makes love. Rough as hell and he finds enjoyment in your debauched flace and pleads. Will probably mock your moans for enjoyment.

John Marston

I said it before. Mommy kink. Let me elaborate.

Definitely a tits man, so he'd probably have a lactation kink too. Would beg to suck on your breasts when you're pregnant. Handles your chest like they're some treasure he needs to be careful with.

Aboslutely awestruck by the way your breasts increase in size throughout your pregnancy.

Gets antsy and hot and bothered whenever you lactate through your shirt.

Practically BEGS on his KNEES just to get a taste

As for the mommy kink, this is when he's submissive in bed

Probably likes it when you're rough on him when you're domming

I'm talking hair pulling, slapping, ordering him around

Calls you mommy the entire time and tries to get a nipple in his mouth whenever he can

Motherless behavior

Also feet, but that's a fetish. I can just see him frequently asking for foot jobs.

Charles Smith

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla, but he'd still be flexible depending on what you like and what he's willing to do

One of the things he'd be more willing to do is asphyxiation. A gentle squeeze of your neck to putting you in a choke hold while he flexes

Is iffy about it but once he sees your red face and your eyes roll back he's all for it

Also praise! Any form of positive reinforcement in the bed room is a green flag for him.

Uses the most gentle and flowery words to take and make you feel comfortable

BRO JUST IMAGINE HIM SAYING "Good girl" IN HIS VOICE IM DECEASED

Also wouldn't mind letting you dom him once in a while. Would be down to be tied up. Thinks the trust aspect that comes with it is super attractive.

Dutch Van Der Linde

Roleplay 100%. Think it's fun to pretend to be other people. Supplies costumes, jewelry, props, anything to make it more realistic. Will even do location changes for it.

Wants to be called sir during sex, any other title or name and he'll view it as deserving of punishment

Brat taming, so be as bratty and bitchy as you want, he'll find a way to break you

Likes blindfolds, gags, bondage, leather

I can also see him pouring candle wax on you. Gets a rise out of inflicting these things on you

Likes to command you to do things such as laying down, spreading your legs, getting on yout knees, etc...

He sets the scene and everything, rose petals, candles inside his tent, slow music, he puts thought into EVERY detail

Now that I think about it maybe a daddy kink. For times when he's feeling dirtier and rougher he'll want you to call him daddy.

Thinks its so scandalous and it makes him feel so giddy

[t1red-twilight]

soft peter headcannons

summary: might cause cavities

content/warnings: gn!reader, andrew!peter, fluffffff

word count: 0.4k

masterlist

- peter is not that much of an outspoken guy (outside of spidersona, lmao)

- this is mirrored in how he loves you

- he’s super gentle. he kisses you very gently, holds you gently, isn’t super rough at all

- ushy gushy mushy loser make outs

- he loves going on little outings with you

- whether that’s a dinner reservation, or coffee while you sit in silence doing copious amounts of homework.

- he always pays, but he does so very quietly. you don’t notice most of the time

- “you already paid? good god peter. i have money, you know” (jokingly, of course)

- you might as well be an rn with the amount of times you’ve patched him up and disinfected his wounds

- your first aid kit has expanded to be like a cabinet full of anything that you may need at a moment’s notice

- he got you matching necklaces for christmas one year

- he wears his every day.

- when someone asks him about it, he gets all giddy and tells them all about you

- “its a matching necklace with my partner! y’know they actually-”

- he's not super big on pda

- you asked him once about this, and he had told you that he didn’t want to ‘commodify’ your relationship. he wanted to keep that part private and just to yourselves

- showers together </3

- before you move in together, showers together had become so commonplace that he took pictures of your shampoo and body wash and stuff and just kinda bought them for his place

- will just hold you in the shower for an unprecedented amount of time

- i WILL write a full length version of this if even just one person asks.

- CANDID PHOTOS AND VIDEOS

- petey boy loves his camera and will take pictures of you whenever he feels prompted

- in the beginning you would point out when he would take pictures, but now you’re just used to it.

- think ‘dead wife montage’ from the beginning of a movie (minus the deceased part, i suppose)

- lowkey gives the best hugs

- he’ll hold the back of your head and tuck his face into your neck and just squeeze

- he teases you semi-regularly

- he’s super playful with you and likes to show his affection that way

- your morning routine is memorized at this point

- sometimes you don’t even to talk to each other, you just naturally know your way around each other super well

- he’s super domestic, actually

- loves making dinner together, reading the same books and talking about them, movie marathons (followed by over analyzing them, of course)

- if you’re in college, he’ll help you with your homework

- he’s very good at explaining things

- rewards you with little smooches

- puts his glasses on you

- your closets have molded into one massive super closet

- you wear each other’s t-shirts and hoodies all the time

- buys you little trinkets

- concluding thoughts: soft is peter’s middle name. he so loves to be around you and he loves even more that you love being around him.

[sqvishii]

Ok Everyone talking about Silver cheat the reader or the reader cheat Silver. But I want to up the ante of pain and angst:

Imagine a reader (for this scenario fem Reader) being Silver's wife. That they both live in the kingdom of thorns having a happy and comfortable life. Although the reader could not return to his world, she was at least able to build a life in TWST with his current husband

So Silver, being one of the main guards of Mallues and the son of General Lilia. In some way or another he is someone who has a certain degree of power in the kingdom due to his position and lineage. So it certainly wouldn't be unusual for someone ill-intentioned to want to get something from Silver (either by stealing or getting forbidden information from the Draconia family or even Lilia) The point is that said person had Silver in his sights as he was technically "the least powerful" (Mallues being the king, Sebek being half-fae and Lilia being a former war general). Whether for any reason they manage to discover the traitor (Silver's work)

But said person manages to escape and is now searching for the Kingdom. The ill-intentioned person, wanting to take revenge on Silver, decides to take away what he loves most. So upon hearing rumors that Silver has a wife who some claim has no magic. The traitor finds the house and murders the reader.

Silver along with other guards are patrolling and looking for the traitor. But he has the feeling that something bad is happening so he tries to call the reader and try to inform her about the situation. But no one answers...even though he has dialed almost 25 times, his wife does not answer his calls. Panic-stricken Silver runs towards his home. Only to find his house damaged and his wife dead on the floor.... Silver gives a cry of pain that echoed throughout the forest. Silver who didn't rest until the damn thing was found

When the traitor is captured by orders of the king and his right hand is executed to death. The now widower who discovered that when his wife was murdered she was newly pregnant ...Now she is buried in the back of Silver's childhood home. Now the happy little home is only inhabited by a lonely knight who never remarried or had a family. Sometimes the home is visited by three faes who take care of their lonely human. 💔

Silver, who at the end of his days never took off his wedding ring and was buried next to his deceased wife's grave. Centuries later the small abandoned house but curiously the graves are still cared for and always have small flowers around them.

STOP THIS ANGST

will the both of you still meet in the next life?

silver wished, his last days were nearing as he stood above your grave, a fresh batch of your favorite flowers in his hands.

silver vanrouge and you. such a beautiful relationship bloomed between the both of you in which silver just couldn't help but fill his journal whenever he spent his days with you.

you made him so happy. so in love like a lovesick puppy who awaited your every order.

he remembered when the shyly held your hand during the first month the both of you were dating in night raven, lilia always chuckled at the two of you and always teased him about it.

now, you're gone.

and heavens did it hurt.

it hurt. extremely; the worst part? you were pregnant with his children.

he knew you were going to surprise him with the news once he got back home, that lopsided grin on your face as you excitedly jump into his arms, he was always there to catch you.

how badly he wished he went home when that gut feeling hit him.

instead of the sight of you with that giddy smile, your radiance and basically just you in general,

he saw you, laying on the ground as the bloody pool underneath you had spread around.

writting the last page of his journal with his signature, he buried it near your grave, how badly he wanted you to read it, how badly he wanted to see that smile on your face and the blush that burned on your cheeks once you saw the years he took to finish that journal for you.

but the least he could do at the end of his life was to have himself buried near you.

years have passed and the house was already withered. despite that, the poeple who walked by could only be left confused at the sight of the flowers growing in between the two graves.

a new era set in stone, silver had heard of a book about a man who spent his life writing his journal dedicated entirely to a single woman, he heard the story was pretty heartbreaking, really.

the plot was basically the man, being in college and finding the one he loved, a woman who was magicless, years passed and he becomes one of the main guards of a fae kingdom, though a traitor was among them.

that said traitor killed the woman without the man knowing, and the plot continues. though, silver had read only a quarter of the book.. he felt like he already knew what happened, as if he was the said man in the book, ironic.

having to be dragged along with his father and brothers to a museum, he could only find himself staring at a portrait, a man whos features looked exactly like his.

'silver vanrouge.'

..huh. weird. same name, too. apparantly, this was the man in the said book he read a few days ago.

.. he could only wonder who was the woman he fell in love with.

searching around the museum without lilia knowing, he eventually found the portrait that was actually just next to the mans. whoops, he didn't notice.

there was a lot of people looking, in awe of the beauty of the painting. he was too, the woman was breathtaking, no wonder the man had fallen in love with her.

going to the front, he saw a girl who looked exactly like her.

"..-ver? silver?"

".. [name]?"

lilia and malleus could only fist bump in the background, finally reuniting the long lost lovers once more.

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Can I request jason voorhees, bubba sawyer, Thomas hewitt, and Vincent sinclair and how they would react to finding a message on the inside of their mask that says "rember, I♡U ~ Y/N" from their S/O other, and maybe another angst version where the find it after the reader died but for now just fluff please?

Yes you can <3 and I did both for all of them. First fluffy, then angsty

So yeah content warnings: Death

Masked Slashers when they discover that their s/o wrote a message on the back of their mask

Jason Voorhees

If he discovers it during your lifetime, he becomes downright giddy. He knows what it means, despite being unable to read. He has seen the same thing carved into way too many trees around camp. But this isn’t harming a tree or defacing the camp, it’s just you reminding him that while he is out there killing people, you are at home, waiting to lovingly welcome him back. And to return the favor, he may carve or write the same thing on something of yours, so you will also always know he loves you. Should he not discover the message before then, however…

-

His days have become so dark since you left. And since then, he also stopped taking off his mask so much. While you were alive, he had made it a habit to not wear it around you. After all, you loved all of him; there was no way to hide. So now, if he needed to eat or drink, he usually just lifted it a bit and put it back in place immediately after. So it took him a few weeks to discover your message.

Jason never learned to read, but he sees the little heart scribbled next to the message and that says just as much. His heart breaks all over again. For a good while, he just stands there with the mask in hand, bitter tears dripping onto the rough plastic.

Bubba Sawyer

You make this particular mask for Bubba, after watching how he maskes the masks himself many times. It really is a bit gross, but you’d do anything for him, so there you are, carefully stitching the flaps of skin together and finally using a permanent marker to write the message inside. Once he discovers it, he is over the moon. He will immediately drop anything he is doing and come to you to wrap you in a bear hug. Depending on the time of day, Drayton may chase him back to work with some choice words, or just roll his eyes and tell you to get a room.

-

Bubba has many masks, for every one of his moods. But he rarely swaps them out anymore, now that you aren’t around. While your body has been treated like the rest of the Sawyer-family’s deceased loved ones, sitting upstairs as well-preserved as possible and treated as if still alive, it is just not the same. You aren’t laughing and smiling anymore.

This mask that he wears now has been your work; you had insisted on making one for him a while ago.

When family bath day finally rolls around, he finds himself forced to take it off, and that’s then he finally notices it. A message for him, written inside of the mask, right on his cheek like a loving kiss. The other Sawyers can only watch in bewilderment as Bubba breaks down, sobbing and clutching the mask to his chest.

Thomas Hewitt

Making his human masks is grizzly business, and one he normally wouldn’t want to involve you in. But he remembers you sneaking downstairs not too long ago, citing simple curiosity as the reason.

He will most likely find the message fairly quickly, while washing up after a hard day of work. Once he sees it, he will smile to himself. While his reaction is fairly subdued, he will definitely be extra loving with you for the rest of the day, causing Hoyt to tease him about it.

-

Now that you’re gone, Thomas just tries to move on with his life, as painful as it is. He still has the rest of his family to provide for, after all.

During his work, he briefly takes off his mask to wipe off the sweat that gathered underneath, only to find the message inside. His heart cramps up at the sight, and he bites down on his lower lip to stop the tears flooding his eyes from making their way down his face.

Carefully, almost reverently, he puts the mask back on a dummy head, now deeming it way too precious to wear. Instead, he grabs another one, but before he can put it on, he freezes, realizing that his one also has the same message from you. Holding back the tears becomes even harder. Another mask. Same thing.

He finds that every single one of his masks has the same message scribbled on the inside. Overwhelmed by it, he sits down at his desk and buries his face in his hands, hoping it will conceal the hot streams of sorrow pouring from his eyes.

Vincent Sinclair

Leaving this kind of message in a wax mask is a bit difficult, but possible. You got yourself some gold foil from a craft store during your last trip to town, and while Vincent sleeps peacefully next to you, you quietly get up and carefully work the message into the wax with the foil. When Vincent wakes up and discovers it, he will look over to you and smile. That day, he works with even more vigor than usual, and come evening, presents you with a small wax figure he made especially for you.

-

Vincent considered himself almost immune to grief for a long time; even his mother’s death had made him determined to continue her legacy more than anything. But then you suddenly pass away, and he feels like the ground underneath his feet is crumbling.

Then he discovers the message, and he just… shuts down. It takes days for his brothers to coax him out of bed, and even then, he only gets up to stop his brothers from pestering him. Should any victims come to town during that time, he will go after them with the ferocity of a wild animal. In his head he is screaming “Why should you get to live?! With what right are you still breathing while they are gone?!”

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Safe Word

pairing: hard dom chan x slightly bratty/sub fem reader

genre: angst? -smut- some fluff at the end. this really is a rollercoaster

word count: ~3k (way longer than i originally intended. whoops)

warnings: established relationship dom/sub dynamics, mean chan, jealous/possessive chan, mentions of fear, hard spanking, orgasm denial, name calling, use of safe word, pet names, mentions of sexual assault, crying

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace. - idk what happened here. this really got away from me. this is fictional. entirely fictional. so so fictional. chan isn’t like this. he’s my sweetie pie.

masterlist

see.. i personally don’t think chan has anger issues. i hate it when people say that. BUT he does get angry from time to time (as do we all), and i think the hard dom punishments will come out of that anger. normally, his punishments consist of some slightly rough spanking, and lots of love (like this). but if you push him too far.. if you push him to that point (like that one live stream), then shit will get real. the only thing stopping him at that point is a safe word. he doesn’t care if you’re crying, begging him to stop. if you want him to stop, you’ll have to use that safe word. for example….

•

“oh, baby, you look so pretty.” he said, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “and you’re mine? are you sure?”

you giggle at him, grabbing him and pulling him close. he’s smiling at you, dimples out, as you kiss his lips softly. “yes, channie. i’m sure.”

“wow. i’m so lucky. aaaaalllll mine, yeah?” he’s holding you at arms length, so he can look you up and down again. he grabs you by the hand, holding it above your head, motioning for you to twirl for him. you spin in a little circle. he looks ravenous, his tongue coming out briefly to lick his lips, before it pokes into his cheek, trying to hide his smirk.

tonight is a black tie event, and to match with him, you’re wearing a black velvet dress. it hugs your curves nicely and really accentuates the swell of your ass. his hands find their way there, squeezing gently through the fabric.

“the only bad thing about this dress.. is that other men will be looking.” he says, pulling you against his chest.

“let them look,” you said. “maybe i’ll do a little dance for them.” you teased, swaying your hips back and forth.

his smile fell, his eyes darkening just barely enough for you to notice it. “not funny.” he said, deadpan.

ooh, that was kind of sexy, and definitely touched a nerve. you’ll just file that information away in your bratty brain for later.

“cmon, handsome.” you said, pulling him by the hand towards the door. “we’ll be late.”

“handsome?” he blushed.

you pushed him out into the hallway, locking the door behind you, giggling at him. how can he go from angry and domineering to sweet and shy in a matter of seconds?

-

the event was crowded, chan had to leave you with the staff as he walked the red carpet with his members. you stood on the side, watching him, full heart eyes bulging out of your head. he looked so good in his suit, perfectly tailored for him, his wide shoulders and slender waist making you feel giddy. you only got to watch him for a moment however, before the staff were leading you inside to your table. chan and the other members would join you shortly.

your table was near the front of the room, close to the stage. you were sat there, patiently waiting, trying not to pull your phone out of your bag and aimlessly scroll. a small group of people to your left started cheering and when you looked, chan and the boys had entered the room. they waved up toward the crowd that was calling to them, and briefly stopped to talk to another idol group. though they stopped, chan found you immediately. his eyes landed on you, always needing to know where you were and that you were safe. once he located you, you could see his shoulders relax a little and he focused back on the conversation he was having.

“excuse me, is this seat taken?” you look to your right to find a tall man gesturing to the seat next to you. the first thought to cross your mind was: uh yeah, it’s assigned seating, of course it’s taken. but then you had an idea. you remembered the way chan looked back at the apartment at the mention of other men looking at you. you kind of liked that look. and you could feel his eyes on you now, you knew he was watching. so the brat inside you took over, and you looked up at the tall man and said sweetly, “no, not until the show starts.” you smiled.

he pulled out the chair and sat down. now, you knew this was wrong. it was wrong to lead this poor man on when you knew he didn’t have a chance with you, and it was wrong to play with chans emotions like this. but you just couldn’t help yourself. this moment presented itself on a silver platter and you decided to take it.

you had no idea what the man next to you was saying, you were sure he complimented you at some point, and he wouldn’t stop staring at your chest. gross, maybe you didn’t feel bad about doing this to him. but you giggled along, pretending to be enjoying yourself. you could see chan out of the corner of your eye. he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at you. a murderous look on his face, his eyes burning holes into the man next to you. but he didn’t make a move to come closer, that was until the man reached out and put his hand on your bare thigh, just above your knee. chan took a step in your direction, but then stopped himself. you looked down at the man’s hand, and tried to push him off you you, but his fingers tightened. “come on, sweetheart. just let me touch a little.” he said. he refused to let go of your leg, even when you told him to.

you didn’t like that, and neither did chan. anxiety bubbled in your stomach. you didn’t know this man and now he was touching you without your permission and refusing to let go. you were done with your stupid little game and were glad that chan was angrily making his way over to you. glad he was on his way to save you. you should have never done this in the first place. this was a stupid idea.

“mate, you’re in my seat.” chan said. his voice rough. the man looked up at chan and he chuckled. chans expression hardened further, anger radiating off him in waves.

“we were just having a conversation.” the man said, still sitting and still holding your leg.

“you and i are about to have a conversation if you don’t get your fucking hand off of my girl.”

“your girl?” the man smiled. “but she’s the one who told me i could sit. maybe she’s over you.. mate.”

chans hands balled into fists at his sides. you could see him trying to take deep breaths. he didn’t want to loose his temper at an event like this when he was here representing his group and the company.

“princess,” he turned to you. “is this man bothering you?” he asked through his teeth. you looked up at him, his expression scared you, you had never seen him like this. eyes wide, you nodded. “he-he won’t let go of my leg.” you stammered.

chan turned back to the man. “i think she wants you to let go. i suggest you listen to her.”

the other members were surrounding you now, changbin and lee know flanking chan.

the look on the man’s face changed. he slowly removed his hand from your leg. you brought your own hand to your skin, rubbing back and forth, trying to get rid of the feeling of him. the lights slowly flashed on and off, signaling the show was starting. the man stood, bowed very slightly, and then scurried away to his table. chan watched him go before angrily pulling the chair out and sitting next to you.

“channie..” you reached for him.

“don’t.” he cut you off. pulling away from you, he faced the stage and the show began.

•

chan didn’t talk to you for the rest of the event. he was silent, seething. the other members chatted around the table about various things, but no one dared talk to chan. no one really talked to you either, other than felix who asked if you were okay after what happened. the event was reaching its end and everyone was leaving. chan stood and grabbed your hand tightly. he practically dragged you behind him to the car. the whole ride home was just as silent. you thought about what you had done. you may have really fucked up. you didn’t mean for it to go like that, but you have never seen chan like this. he was more mad than you have ever seen him and the silence was only increasing your fear.

he dragged you up to the apartment, unlocking the door. once you were both inside, and the door was shut, chan took off his suit jacket.

“go get on the bed.” he said, calmly. too calmly. you hesitated, almost frozen with fear. he had undone his cufflinks and placed them one by one gently on the counter, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms. “princess, go get on the bed. i won’t tell you again.”

you made your legs move, carrying you to the bed. you sat on the edge nervously. what were you supposed to do now? you fiddled with the edge of your dress, a million thoughts racing through your mind. what was about to happen? you were scared. you knew that chan would never hurt you. you reminded yourself of that. but the look on his face.. the calmness in his tone.. you worried you had really ruined your relationship. what if he hated you?

he entered the room, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his arms, veins bulging. his tie was gone, the top 2 buttons of his shirt undone. he approached you, slowly. you couldn’t look at him, instead focusing on your fingernails, picking at the chipping polish. he used his fingers to tilt your face up to him.

“you get one chance.” he said, holding up his index finger. “one chance to tell me what happened. make it quick.”

“i- i didn’t mean for it to happen like that.” you say quickly, the words nervously spilling out of your mouth.

“don’t lie to me.” he said, his voice a little louder now.

“i just- i wanted to make you a little jealous. that’s all, i promise.”

“you wanted to make me jealous? so you told him he could sit with you, and then you proceeded to flirt with him. is that right?” he was pacing back and forth now, rubbing his hands together. your eyes tracked him.

when you remained silent, he turned to you, fire behind his eyes. “answer me.” he barked.

“yes.” you blurted out.

“stand up.” he motioned with his hand. you stood. he grabbed your arm, roughly turning you around and bending you over the bed. he pulled your dress up to your hips, and pulled your panties down to your ankles.

“listen to me.” he said. you could hear him undoing his belt, the buckle clattering noisily, the sound of the leather through belt loops. “don’t you ever do something like that again. do you understand me?” you nodded your face into the covers, legs shaking with fear. he brought the belt down, the loud smack of leather against skin reverberating around the room. you jerked, fists clutching the blanket. “words.” he ordered. “do you understand me?”

“yes! yes. i understand.” you said, voice shaking.

he brings the belt down again, on your other cheek, your skin red and stinging.

“i’m sorry!” you cried.

he spanked you again. “i bet you are.”

he spanked you one more time before you could hear the belt clatter to the floor. he rubbed his fingertips across your bruised skin, before trailing his fingers down to your leaking core.

“you’re fucking drenched. this was supposed to be a punishment, slut.” he stuffed 2 of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out roughly. you moaned and squirmed under him, your high approaching, your pussy clenching around his fingers. he pulled them out quickly. he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you over onto your back. “if you think i’m going to let you cum, you’re fucking wrong.” he grabbed you by your hair, his fist at your scalp, and pulled you off the bed. he forced you onto your knees and began unbuttoning his pants. tears were streaming down your face, your ass was sore, your orgasm ruined, and he was still mad at you. would he ever not be mad?

“are you crying, little baby?” he taunted. you looked up at him, barely able to see him through your tears. “poor little slut.” he said. “if you want to act like one, then i’m going to treat you like one.” his cock was out, his pants kicked off to the side. he was pumping himself slowly. “open.” he said, touching his tip to your lips. you opened your mouth and he thrust himself down your throat without warning. you choked for a second before he pulled out, leaving you coughing. “again.” he ordered. you did your best to open your mouth for him. he grabbed fistfuls of your hair and began using your mouth, shoving himself as far down your throat as he could, your nose touching his stomach. it was hard to breathe with your nose clogged from crying and your mouth full of his cock.

you could feel your arousal leaking down your thighs, secretly loving the way he was using you. but hating his angry words. you wanted to be praised. you missed your sweet channie. he shoved his cock back in your mouth, and you reached your hands up, sliding them under his shirt to feel his hard abdomen. he slapped your hands away, and pulled himself out of your mouth.

“only good girls get to touch. sluts get used. hands behind your back.”

you looked up at him pleadingly, bringing your hands behind your back. “please channie.” you sniffled. “i’m sorry.”

“i don’t fucking care.” he spat, grabbing your head again and shoving himself back down your throat. you gagged and sputtered around him, your tears falling faster now, your heart breaking at his words. you needed to stop.

you mumbled your safe word around his cock. but he couldn’t hear you. you tried again but he kept pumping in and out. you tapped his thigh 3 times with the palm of your hand, more like slapping then tapping, and he pulled out.

“re-red” you coughed, sputtering spit onto the floor. he immediately stopped, and he dropped to his knees in front of you. you buried your face in your hands, sobbing.

“hey, hey.” he said, soothingly. he reached for your hands, pulling them from your face. you looked up at him, your eyes bloodshot, your cheeks wet and stained, a look of total devastation on your features. it broke his heart. “baby.. talk to me.” he said.

“baby-y?” you hiccuped.

he cradled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away your tears. “yes. baby.” he said. “you’re my baby.”

a feeling of relief swelled in your chest.

“you promise?” you asked.

he used the hem of his shirt to wipe at your nose. “of course, princess. you’re my baby. you’ll always be my baby.” he stared into your eyes, his own looking a little glsssy. “i pinky promise. and you know i’ve never broken a pinky promise.”

a new sob broke from your chest, but a completely different one altogether. this was a sob of relief, a sob of happiness. you collapsed into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. “ oh honey..” he said, his voice sounding watery. he rubbed your back soothingly.

“i th-thought you ha-hated me.” you stuttered between sobs.

“i could never hate you, angel.” he cooed. “i was mad. i was really mad.” he pulled back so he could look at you. “i got a little carried away.” he admitted. “i’m sorry, baby. but i promise i don’t hate you. i love you.” he kissed your lips gently. “i love you so much. that’s why i couldn’t stand to see that asshole touching you.”

“i’m sorry too.” you said quietly. “i shouldn’t have flirted with him. i promise i wont ever do it again. please don’t be mad.”

“im not mad anymore.” he said. “you used your safe word. you’ve never had to do that before. and for that, i’m sorry. are you okay?” he looked so defeated, so broken at the thought that he let it get this far.

“i’m okay now.” you assured him. “i’m okay now that i know you’re not mad at me anymore.” you gave him a small smile.

“i’m not mad. but baby,” his tone turned slightly more serious, but still soft. “you can’t do that. you’re mine and it’s not okay for you to flirt with other men, even if you’re only doing it to get a rise out of me.”

“i know.” you nodded. “i know that now.”

“not only that, but that guy basically assaulted you. you can’t put yourself in dangerous situations like that. what if i wasn’t there?”

“i know.” you looked down at your hands, intertwined with his.

“or, what if i lost my temper and beat that guy within an inch of his life for touching you? then i’d loose my job, changbin would be crying, you’d have to come visit me in jail.” you could hear the smile in his voice. “i wouldn’t look good in jail clothes.” he joked.

you giggled at that. he smiled down at you, a look that was so full of love and adoration. you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “i love you, channie. and i’m sorry.”

he smiled against your lips. “i love you baby, and im sorry too.” he kissed you multiple times in quick succession, covering your entire face in kisses. his quick pecking throwing you into a fit of giggles, having complexly forgotten about him being mean, only knowing this sweet cuddly version of him. and he vowed this was the only version you would see from now on.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[07-bilin]

single father miguel liking you

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 477

₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: none just fluff

₊˚ପ⊹ relationship: miguel x teacher!reader

miguel who is the father of one of your best students gabriella who also loves you very much.

when he first heard your voice all he could think of was how sweetly you'd call his name if you were his.

miguel who was very much too embarrassed to straight up ask you on a date for months due to the fact that he hadn't been in the dating circle ever since he met gabi's now deceased-mother.

adding on to that, the small things would do to just imagine you smiling in your apartment is buying your whole amazon wishlist for your classroom and sending gabi off to give you homemade meals from the man himself.

he asked you out when it was a field day and parents were allowed to come and have fun with the kids and whilst gabriella was out playing with her friends he was left with her wonderful teacher.

the heat made him sweat profusely making him extra nervous around you and when he finally asked you he thought you declined due to it being unprofessional and whatnot but took a double look at you when he realized what you said and gawked profusely.

the rest of the day was spent with miguel just being all giddy and shy along with him coming every now and then to hand you a cup of water or a snack or two to help you stay energized through the busy day.

once the two of y'all actually start dating, he'll come by the school and wait with you in your classroom for you to be finished after he's dropped off gabi at soccer practice cause the two of you can't spend much time together other than then.

now when he sends little gifts off to you, he slips a small love note in the plastic container as a surprise when you dig into the meal.

likes to watch you present your lesson in front of him as he just loves your voice and the way you pace from place to place.

he always lets you know after a rough day at school that you can quit your teacher life and he would be happy to fund your life expenses as he truly sees the two of you getting married in the future.

when gabriella finds out the two of you are together she smiles at the thought and expresses she knew the whole time as her father had never put that much effort into getting to know her teachers in prior years.

miguel who loves to see you teach a sleepy gabi in the dim lights as it makes him feel like the family is complete.

miguel who drops you off on the first day of school and gives you a quick goodbye kiss knowing that you were no longer mrs.y/l/n and now mrs.o'hara.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY (see full series list here)

1993

On the 22nd of November you sit on the floor of your office late at night, watching the flames of your fireplace crackle and pop. Beside you, sits Harry, eyes focused on the fire as well. Sirius had asked him to wait in front of the fire in your office at one o'clock and for you to be there too. You can't say your heart isn't beating faster than the steady tick of the clock on the wall, worried and giddy at the same time.

"I'm sorry about this whole situation, Harry," you say with a sigh, reaching out to stroke Dubh's fur idly as she clambers into your lap. "I know this isn't what you want. I tried everything to get them to change the rules but nothing worked."

"Thanks," he says blankly, like he's used to being disappointed.

"And that article in the paper — "

"I didn't say anything of that. It's a lie," Harry responds quickly.

You nod. "I'm well aware. Rita Skeeter is...difficult." As soon as the words have left your mouth, you grimace, shaking your head. "Actually, she doesn't deserve that nicety. She's a bitch, Harry. A nasty old hag that has nothing better to do with her life than spread rumours and sensationalise everything in sight."

Harry seems slightly taken aback by your words but nods in fierce agreement nonetheless.

"My best advice to you, Harry, is to run for the hills every time you see her — or just wave me over if I'm near. I am well accustomed to small talk with people like her — the trick is to just get them talking about themselves."

He nods. "I don't plan on going anywhere near her ever again."

"Smart decision," you say, sighing. "And look — I know I'm not supposed to get involved but if you need any help whatsoever, just ask. There's plenty of useful spells I can teach you and tips I can give — anything at all."

Just then, the flames move in a peculiar fashion and Sirius' head appears in the fire. Both you and Harry let out a small gasp, and when you look at Harry, his face has broken into the biggest smile you've seen him wear in weeks.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaims immediately.

He looks different from the last time you seen him. His face had looked gaunt and sunken, but now he looks far healthier and his hair, which was long, matted and greasy, is now clean and neat. You're glad to see that though he's trimmed it a tad, he's kept the beard. He looks younger.

"Hello, Harry," he says, before he turns to you, smiling, "and hello to you too, love."

You bring your hand up and give him a tiny little wave, unable to stop the giddy smile taking over your face at the sight of him.

"How're you doing?" Harry asks.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius asks firmly, returning his attention to his godson.

"I'm — " Harry stops himself suddenly, holding himself back. Just when you're about to check if he's alright, he spills. He tells the two of you everything: about how no one believes that he hasn't entered himself into the tournament, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he can't walk down a corridor without getting sneered at, and about the toll it's all taken on his friendship with Ron.

You feel your heart ache for him. He deserves absolutely none of this and you wish you could do more to help.

"Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons — I'm a goner," he finishes desperately.

Sirius is looking at Harry with deep concern as he says, "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here...I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"Just break into Moony's house next time," you say simply, shrugging. "Sounds much easier to me."

Sirius gives you a look that suggests he already thought of that, but obviously decided not to as he was already coming north to see you two. You smile cheekily at him and he shakes his head, refocusing his attention on Harry.

"What do you need to warn me about?" Harry asks.

"Karkaroff," Sirius says. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"He's a Death Eater?" You're shocked. Just this morning you picked his fork off the ground for him at breakfast!

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

There already is an Auror at Hogwarts, you think. Or did Dumbly-dorr just forget about me?

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry says slowly. "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," Sirius replies bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then named names...he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place...he's not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

How do you not remember any of this? Surely you'd have seen this all mentioned in the papers around that time?

"Okay..." Harry says. "But...are you saying that Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," says Sirius, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry — "

"You and the rest of the world," he says bitterly.

"— and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius says hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he still can't spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So...what are you saying? Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But — why?"

Sirius hesitates.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he says apprehensively. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone cast the Dark Mark...and then — did you hear about that Ministry witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?" You say. You recall reading that article about her disappearance not too long ago.

"Exactly...she disappeared to Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumoured to be last...and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but...it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" says Harry.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Sirius says grimly, glancing at you. "Do you remember her at school?"

You nod your head. "She was at Hogwarts when we were, a few years above us," you explain to Harry. "As thick as a board, she was. Very nosey, too. Awful combination."

"Makes her easy to lure into a trap," Sirius finishes.

"So...so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" says Harry. "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don’t know," Sirius says with a shake of his head, "I just don’t know...Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing." Harry grins bleakly. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"You'll be fine," you reassure firmly, though you're not sure if it's for Harry's sake or your own. "I'll be there, all the rest of the teachers will be there, and there'll be that group of dragon keepers there too."

"Look, about these dragons," Sirius says, speaking quickly now, glancing around him furtively, "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a simple Stunning Spell — dragons are too strong and powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon — "

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," Harry says.

"But you can do it alone," Sirius tells him, looking him straight in the eye. "There is a way, a simple spell's all you need — "

Knock-knock.

At once, all three of you go dead silent and whip your heads to the closed door.

"Go, Sirius, quickly!" You hiss at him urgently.

You scramble to your feet, grabbing Harry's invisibilty cloak off the desk and launching it at him.

"Quick!"

Harry frantically pulls the cloak over his head and ducks behind your desk as you make you way over to the door, glancing back at the fireplace to see that Sirius' head has disappeared and the flames have returned to normal. You feel a small pang in your heart.

Who could possibly be knocking at your door at one o'clock in the morning? Surely everyone is asleep by now?

You pull the door open and are met with nothing but the quiet, dark corridor.

"Must've been Peeves," you mutter angrily, moving to close the door. Of course that poltergeist would find a way to cut your time with Sirius short.

"Oh, no, mistress, it is Bitsy!"

You look down in search of the voice and sure enough, at the foot of your door, is Bitsy, grinning up widely at you with her ginormous eyes reflecting the flickering light of the candles on the wall. You notice that she's holding a tray of scones in her tiny hands.

"Bitsy?" You say in shock and confusion. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Bitsy was cleaning this corridor, mistress, and heard talking coming from mistress's office! And Bitsy thinks 'why is mistress up so late talking?' Perhaps she has a guest and is very hungry! Mistress was not at breakfast this morning, and I isn't seeing mistress in the kitchens either!"

While part of you feels angry and cheated that she's just interrupted your seldom chance to talk to your husband, you can't be mad at Bitsy and her big kind heart.

You chuckle softly. "Oh, Bitsy. You are far too kind to me. You're right, I didn't attend breakfast this morning nor did I go to the kitchens in the afternoon — I had breakfast with a friend of mine in Hogsmeade today. I should have told you."

Bitsy beams at you and holds the tray out for you to take. "Bitsy is glad to know you did not go hungry this morning. For you, mistress!"

You accept the tray with a smile. "Thank you, Bitsy. You are very kind — let me go fetch something to give you as a thank you."

"Oh, no, mistress! I cannot accept anything from you, I is just doing my duty!"

You leave her momentarily, placing the tray of scones down, grabbing a box off your desk and returning to hand it to her. "Film for your camera, Bitsy. So you can take more pictures. "

You don't miss the gleeful smile that spreads over Bitsy's face as she looks at the box in wonder. "Mistress, I must not — "

"I insist, Bitsy. Actually — I order you to accept the film. I know how much you love your camera," you tell her, pushing it into her hands.

"Thank you, mistress," she says gratefully, bowing to you. "I must return to my work now, unless mistress requires Bitsy for anything?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, but thank you, Bitsy. I think it's time for mistress to get some rest."

Bitsy leaves, clutching the film tightly in her hands and bowing out of your view before Disapparating. You close the door behind you, letting out a sigh as Harry stands up slowly, pulling the cloak off.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry," you say. "I really wish we could have more time with Sirius."

"Yeah, me too. Was that a house elf?"

You nod, chuckling. "Sure was. That's Bitsy. You see, I stay up much later than everyone else — I'm usually up in the tower because of course, the best time to view the stars is at night, so I sleep in the next day and miss breakfast a lot of the time. And when I do, I can go down to the kitchens and Bitsy and all the other house elves will give me something to eat — have done since I was in school myself and did the exact same thing. Bitsy is my saviour, honestly. She's an absolute gem."

"You're able to get into the Hogwarts kitchens?" Harry says curiously.

"Yep. There's a painting of a bowl of fruit down by the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room — just tickle the pear and the door'll open right up for you."

You know that as a teacher you probably shouldn't be telling him this, but you don't really care. You went there countless times as a student so why shouldn't he?

Harry nods thoughtfully before asking, "That spell Sirius mentioned, that could defeat a dragon...have you any idea what it is?"

You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against your hip as you search your brain for anything like that. "I don't, Harry, I'm sorry. Perhaps you could try confundus, and confuse it? I can't say I'm too familiar with dragons...now, you should go to bed, Harry. A good night's sleep for the next few days is what you need before the first task. And in the meantime, I'll have a look and see if I can figure something out for you."

"Thanks, but I doubt I'll find it easy to sleep," Harry remarks, throwing the cloak back over his head.

"Well, if you do find that you can't sleep, come up the Tower," you tell him with a smile, pulling the door open for his invisible figure. "I find stargazing is the best way to relieve stress and solve problems."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You feel like you're about to get sick. You stare at the Hungarian Horntail, huge and terrifying as she crouches protectively over her eggs, huffing great hot breaths out of her large nostrils. And there, standing across from this fearsome beast as though rooted to the spot, is Harry. The crowd roars around you but you can barely hear them as your stomach knots and twists and flips with sickening worry.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry yells, raising his wand.

You wait. The crowd waits. Harry waits.

And then you see it. Harry's broomstick, his Firebolt, hurtles towards him and stops in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount it. You vaguely register Ludo Bagman roaring something over the crowd in response to this, but you're too focused on praying to whatever great deities you can to protect your godson. You're just so relieved that he managed to figure something out — and something so clever, too! Why hadn't you thought of a Summoning Spell? It's so simple. Sirius will be so proud of Harry when he finds out.

Harry rises into the air, the wind rushing through his hair, surveying the dragon not far below him. A sort of resolve seems to come over him and then he dives, forcing you to bring your hands up to cover your eyes in fear.

"Oh, I can't watch," you breathe. Beside you, Minerva gives you an understanding look as she watches on. You hear the rush of fire, the crowd cheering and screaming, and then —

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman roars. "Are you watching this, Mr Krum?"

You open your eyes just in time to see Harry plummet to the ground once more, just missing the burst of flames that flies from the Horntail's open maw — but not quick enough to completely avoid the whip of her tail and to your horror, one of the long spikes grazes Harry's shoulder, ripping his robes.

"Harry!" You shriek, practically about to chew your finger off with the alarming rate you're biting the tips of your nails as you reluctantly watch on, wishing for it to be over.

He begins to fly this way, then that, not near enough to make the dragon breathe fire at him to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient enough threat to make her keep her eyes focused on him, tracking his every move.

The dragon's head sways with his movements, her eyes unwavering as she followed him, gruesome fangs bared. You can feel your heart palpitating in your chest. Harry rises even higher, the Horntail's head rising with him, her neck now stretched out to its fullest extent.

You jump as the Horntail lets out a deafening roar, her tail thrashing threateningly as she blows another burst of fire at him, which he thankfully dodges.

She opens her mouth and then she finally rears, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last and Harry seizes the opportunity to dive at an incredible speed. You can barely keep your eyes on him with the rate he's whistling through the air, hurtling towards the nest of eggs.

"Come on, come on, come on..." you chant, hands tapping frantically at the tops of your thighs as you sit on the edge of your seat, watching impatiently.

Harry takes his hands off his broom, seizes the golden egg, and with another huge burst of speed, he's off and soaring out over the stands. He tucks the egg safely under his uninjured arm, and looks out over the stands.

You can't help but jump out your seat, cheering yourself hoarse as you voice your praise and feel relief wash over your body like a tsunami. The noise around you is monumental, drumming in your ears like a jackhammer.

"Look at that!" Bagman yells. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter!"

The dragon keepers rush forward to subdue the Horntail and you hurry out of your seat, practically sprinting to the entrance of the enclosure. Minerva is hot on your heels and Moody and Hagrid have already beaten you, waiting with wide smiles for Harry to land.

"That was excellent, Potter!" Minerva cries as the boy hops off his broomstick. She points a shaky hand to his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score...Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."

"Harry, you were brilliant!" You exclaim excitedly, eagerly pulling him in for a hug and beaming at him. Normally, you'd worry about other students thinking you have a favourite — which you do, of course you do — but today you couldn't care less, you're so overwhelmed with relief and swelling with pride for your godson. "Absolutely brilliant, Harry! Just — fantastic, honestly, I can't believe it, I was so worried — I'm so proud — "

"Thanks," Harry says, unable to keep the large smile on his face down, his face red.

"Yeh' did it, Harry!" says Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' — "

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry says loudly, so that Hagrid doesn't blather on about how he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand. You give a light chuckle.

Even Moody looks very pleased, the slightest of smiles tugging at his cracked lips. "Nice and easy does the trick, Potter."

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." Minerva says, gesturing to the tent with her hand.

He leaves, giving you all a grin before heading into the tent and you just smile proudly after him, rolling on the balls of your feet.

"Oh, he was just excellent, wasn't he?" Minerva says to you, smiling. "The best out of the all the champions, by far!"

You nod enthusiastically. "Easily! Oh, Merlin, I am just so glad he came out alright, I thought I was going to chew my own hand off with worry..."

"He was migh'y," Hagrid says loudly, a sob racking his body as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a large handkerchief, bigger than your face, and blows into it. "Jus' migh'y."

"Oh, Hagrid," you say softly, reaching up to place a comforting hand on his back, smiling sympathetically.

Across the enclosure, the five judges are sitting at the end in raised seats draped in gold. The first judge, Madame Maxime, raises her wand in the air and what looks like a long silver ribbon shoots out of the end of it — forming the shape of a large figure eight.

"Not bad," you remark, clapping along with the crowd. "Must've been the injury that lost him marks..."

Crouch comes next, shooting a number nine into the air.

"Excellent!" Minerva exclaims.

Next, Dumbledore puts up a nine and the crowd yells louder than ever.

Ludo Bagman — ten.

You turn to Minerva in disbelief, matching looks of shock with each other before you eagerly applaud.

Now, Karkaroff raises his wand. He pauses for a moment, and then a number shoots out of his wand — four.

"What?" You yell indignantly, blinking several times to make sure your eyes aren't tricking you. "A four?"

"How shameful, he gave his own student a ten!" Minerva remarks angrily.

Several members of the crowd seem to agree with you, bellowing angrily and booing at Karkaroff's biased marking.

Suddenly, Sirius' words ring in your head.

He's a Death Eater.

You feel your spine chill as you look across the enclosure at Karkaroff's steely expression, steadfast in his decision to reward Harry four marks.

Scumbag.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"A toast!" Dumbledore announces, raising his glass. "To the completion of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

You grin, raising your glass in tandem. "Cheers!" You clink it against Minerva's, then with Professor Sprout's on your other side.

All the staff have gathered in that small room right of the Great Hall for a little staff-only party, the fire blazing in its place and radiating a pleasant warmth around the room. The house elves have prepared a small spread of finger foods for the lot of you — and you've gone straight for the cupcakes, decorated humorously with little edible dragons. They're delicious — you make a mental note to voice your thanks to Bitsy the next time you see her.

Despite the happiness that's settled in you since Harry's successful task, when your eyes land on Karkaroff, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you, talking with Snape, unease gnaws at your gut.

You're sitting in a room with a Death Eater.

You've been in this situation countless times, of course, back when you were an Auror. But then, you knew what was going on. You knew what you were in for. Here, you don't. At parent-teacher meetings, you don't doubt you've been in the company of some Death Eaters, or former Death Eaters, rather. Some of your Slytherins' parents certainly seem to have a fondness for opaque, long-sleeved shirts...

You can't help but remember that night at the Quidditch World Cup, and your brain starts to picture one of those cruel Death Eaters pulling off his mask and revealing Karkaroff's sharp face.

You grip your champagne glass tightly, downing the contents and taking a deep breath. You should go mingle, the time for investigating Karkaroff can come tomorrow.

It's this little staff party that you finally get acquainted with Madame Maxime properly, trying your hand at your conversational-level French. She seems very impressed at this, delighted that you know at least a little bit of her own language — she says something about the 'arrogance of native English speakers', which you don't disagree with.

"Oh, and look at this pretty diamond on your finger!" Madame Maxime exclaims suddenly, catching sight of your engagement ring, sitting pretty above your wedding band on your left ring finger. She takes your hand in her much larger one so she can inspect it closer. "You are married?"

You look at the sparkling ring, glinting in the candlelight, smiling softly. "Yes, I am."

"How sweet," she remarks, dropping your hand gently. "I was married once."

You raise your eyebrows imploringly and she leans closer, waving her large hand theatrically as she says, "But he was a bastard."

She laughs fiendishly, and you just sort of watch, unsure whether you should laugh or not.

"You can laugh!" she assures when she sees your unsure expression. "Good riddance, is what I say. He thought he could keep the company of some girl while I was at working at Beauxbatons — so I said to him, 'fuck you and the whore you rode in on!'"

You nearly choke on your champagne, shocked at what you've heard come out of Madame Maxime's mouth. She grins proudly, showing rows of pearly white teeth. She seems to be finding your shock very amusing as she laughs again.

"His loss," you tell her, chuckling.

"Absolument." She shrugs nonchalantly, as though it was nothing to her but a stone in the bottom of her shoe. "Et toi? Where is your husband?"

You don't answer her for a moment, sucking on your teeth. "Well, I don't know, actually."

"How do you not know?"

"Oh, because he's just escaped from prison," you answer simply. You don't know what makes you tell her that. It would have been so easy to lie, but you don't. Perhaps it's the two too many glasses of champagne you've had, or perhaps it's the way Madame Maxime doesn't seem to care about anything, really, other than Fleur Delacour and the tournament.

Her mouth drops for a second, before she laughs. "Ah, well, c'est la vie. Marriage is never easy."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. It feels weirdly relieving to you that she couldn't care less about your personal life. You find a new respect for the woman in front of you. "Certainly not."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter twenty-one here!

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[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 11

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Not many warnings this chapter, just a lot of emotions running high and a fair bit of lying for the sake of keeping secrets. Summary: Your first day in the past with Max is full of emotional moments and surprises, but nothing more surprising than a revelation shared with Eddie and Allison back in your own time. Notes: Hello and welcome to the Gilded Age!! It's been so exciting to see how many of you gleefully jumped into the deep-end with us on this plot twist and I hope you enjoy! This week's Chateau-sur-Mer room on display is Eddie's room 💛

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very comfortable,” you assure him quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

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

My Masterlist!

[yuesya]

AAAAH IM SO HAPPY ABT THE MONDSTAT AU!!! I love love loooove your world building and I’d love to see what you do with the Archon war. Honestly you’ve only written two snippets and they’ve already got me hooked. I love the venti shiki parallels with how you have her naming godself(??) after Dec (Idr his full name T~T) just like venti and Barbatos! It neatly covered one of the questions I had from the first snippet and it makes me giddy. Of course, I’m still full of questions like what would Mond look like under Shiki’s care (tho mond would still have the hands off approach they had under shiki, and dance might be added to their roster of things to be know for?) and where is venti?? Does he remain a lil sprite or does he still gain power? Pausing my lore questions to giggle at the idea of shiki at an archon meeting stone faced with wind sprite venti zipping around, they’re both so silly…sigh. Anywho, thank you so so much for your wonderful AUs and also for sharing your amazing writing <3

Thanks! Glad you're also having fun with the Mondstadt AU haha.

I don't recall it being mentioned anywhere in-game that the bard who led the rebellion was named 'Venti,' but we do know that the current physical form that Venti takes is modeled after his deceased friend. Venti's character quest was probably one of my favorite character quests in Genshin haha.

In this 'verse, Shiki's name as a god would be 'Balor,' except she later uses the name 'Decarabian,' in memory of the original Decarabian. Playing around with the idea that the human-name she eventually uses is 'Silke.' (Frisian diminutive form of 'Cecilia,' and German diminutive of 'Celia,' 'heavenly.' Plus, if you squint at it there's a vague resemblance to 'Shiki'.....?)

Hey, if Shiki and Venti become friends, then Mondstadt gets dancing AND music/singing. Perfect for festivals!

There are a lot of ways things could go in this AU haha. Something else that might also be interesting to play around with -forbidden knowledge. We know that the forbidden knowledge in the game is defined as 'information/power that originates from outside of Teyvat.' So... Shiki's eyes and her abilities... what would they be defined as under Celestia's purview?

:3

[bones4thecats]

Hi this is just another request but could I please ask for Bloody Painter Ticci Toby and homicidal Lou with kianna

( in an alternate scenario and her character lore she ends up becoming a proxy after she wanders into the woods after she burnt down to sakamaki mansion)

A/N: Okay, when I finish writing all of the requests that have flooded my inbox (I have like 6-7 more), then I'm gonna write a General Hcs for the Creepypasta characters, just so you requesters can understand my personal writing lore. Anyways, enjoy~~

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🖌️ He didn't live at the mansion like others, he lived in a fairly decent populated town, like a mini-city, and he had heard about you through the news

🖌️ You were known throughout this town as the 'Heart-Steaker', as your method of murder was stabbing someone in the heart

🖌️ Bloody Painter did not see any kind of red-flags when he first met you, but he did have a hunch you were 'different' like him

🖌️ When he first realized you killed was when you and him were taking a walk and then you were pulled away by some weird tentacles and into the forest

🖌️ Seeing you walk back out all bloody and seemingly woozy made him even more nervous, it was like you had just busted out of a trance

🖌️ Hearing from you what your occupation was with the 'tentacle-being', he just nodded, as he had known a couple of the proxies, but he didn't expect you to be one yourself

🖌️ Bloody Painter just pet your hair after the reveal, his calm demeanor staying strong

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🪓 Toby met you through his 'boss'

🪓 He did not like having meetings with it, as he didn't see it as anything worth his time, but watching as you threw a body onto the ground from the trees with Rouge made him feel giddy

🪓 In my lore, he does enjoy murder to a degree, he enjoys killing harmful people, not innocent, so when his 'boss' forces him to do it, he feels guilty afterwards

🪓 Toby liked sitting down with you in the mornings in your shared cabin, watching the news of your murders being announced

🪓 It made him feel worthy in your eyes

🪓 He also enjoys killing people he deems destructive to you, but as you both rarely ever went out, leaving the gathering of food to other proxies (Rouge and Wilson), most of the time this didn't happen

🪓 Toby loves how your very dangerous, yet also loves how sweet and mature you are with him

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✌️ He knew basically every killer that was associated with Slenderman, it was just nature for him to know

✌️ He may have forgiven his brother, but in my lore, his split personality, Sully, hasn't

✌️ When Liu first met you, he was very weary, as his other first meetings with proxies didn't go the smoothest

✌️ Once he, and Sully, warmed up to you, he was quite the conversationalist, but the one thing he does not enjoy talking about are the murders you and he commits, he finds it bothersome

✌️ Like with Toby, he prefers to kill guilty people rather than innocent, but Sully goes for either, he doesn't really care

✌️ You and he normally just care for your home on your days off, and he does most of the caring for said home, as he was legally declared deceased

✌️ While Liu isn't a big murder conversationalist, Sully is. He'll talk your ear off, or let you talk his off about how either he, or you, had killed someone, be it earlier that day, or a while before

[home-of-renn]

I HAVE RECENTLY DISCOVERED THE GREATEST CROSSOVER I HAVE EVER COME ACROSS IN THIS FANDOM AND CAN'T BELIEVE I NEVER EVEN CONSIDERED IT!!!!!!

Like imagine them being lost distant relatives that stumble across each other. Maybe the Addamses stumble across Danny first. Maybe Danny's out and about and ends up being drawn to their spooky, hella haunted mansion. Maybe he's in the Zone and he finds an ancestor who points him in the direction of the Addams' abode - or even better - maybe all the smaller ghosts he comes across turn around and run the moment they realise he's a Fenton - AKA the most notorious ghost hunters in the Zone - but one ghost takes one good look at him in all his freaky halfa glory and goes, "you're an Addams, aren't ya?", and Danny is confused AF.

-----------BUT COULD YALL IMAGINE!

The Addamses would be overjoyed to have a liminal spirit in the family!!!!!

Morticia would offer Danny a plot in the family cemetery and triple check that the house and surrounding areas were free of blood blossom - not that there were any there to begin with.

Gomez would throw an arm around his shoulder and teach him how to throw knives and cheat at poker. He'd find out that Danny has to walk to school in the mornings now that Jazz isn't there to drive him anymore and he'd insist that Lurch would be able to drop him and pick him up, anytime, anyplace, anywhere. Gomez insists that Lurch would even be able to find his way around the Ghost Zone so Danny wouldn't have to fly home after another one of Skulker's traps.

At first Danny would be a little creeped out by Fester - mostly due to Fester's subpar social skills and tendency to linger in the darker corners of the room. But then Fester offers him the room next to his own and teaches him new card games and shows him how to fish using sticks of dynamite. His lack of social awareness and giddy attitude reminds him of his dad.

Wednesday reminds him of Sam. She's fiercely protective and has a morbid, dry sense of humour. She comes up with a scarily efficient 13 step plan to eradicate the A listers. She has a never ending list of questions for him but never pushes the sensitive topics - mostly she just wants to know if he's come across any of their ancestors yet. He's surprised by how well they get along.

Pugsly never fails to try and involve him in whatever lethal games he and Wednesday often play. Danny introduces him to Cujo and the two of them spend an entire evening running through the cemetery digging up bones and coming up with ways to use his size-changing abilities in pranks. Danny's just glad there's finally someone else Cujo will listen to when he's not around.

Grandmama Frump seems slightly insane but it's not anything he isn't used to. She keeps giving him strange smelling stews and teas that he's only a little hesitant to drink. She reassures him that the stew has all the necessary nutrients for the recently deceased. He has no idea what that means but judging by the colour it's got a healthy dose of ectoplasm added in and he isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth - even if he's yet to ask where exactly she managed to get that much ecto in the first place. The tea - he later finds out - is nothing but a mixture of dried herbs and flowers. A family recipe that never fails to put him to sleep.

He's a little apprehensive when he finds out that the Addamses have a butler - his mind immediately jumps to Vlad and how most insanely rich weirdos must treat their employed help. He soon witnesses the way they treat Lurch with as much love and respect as they treat each other and all his doubts fade away like smoke. One day after a surprisingly brutal attack by the box ghost - which leaves his pride more than a little bruised - he finds Lurch parked outside the alleyway he used to transform back into Fenton. He already knows that trying to make conversation with the guy is useless and that he'll only reply in half mumbled grunts and moans. He's sore and dripping in foul smelling puddle water and doesn't have the energy to even try turning away, so he just sighs and slides his way into the back seat. He thinks he's being taken back home to Fentonworks or even back to the Manor to be patched up, but he drifts off and when he wakes up they're already in line at the Nasty Burger drive through with Lurch handing a wad of cash to the wide-eyed worker in the payment window. He ends up with enough food to crowd the backseat along with a mountain of napkins to dry himself off and a dozen frosty milkshakes to soothe his busted lip and two black eyes. He offers Lurch a handful of fries and is given a crooked half-stiff smile in return. When he does eventually get dropped off - after about an hour or two of driving around in circles so he could finish his meal undisturbed, only stopping to pick up a harried looking Sam and Tucker off the side of the road, who had apparently been looking for him since school ended more than half an hour ago - he's given a firm pat on the head and a slip of paper with a barley legable phone number scrawled in red ink. The next time he stops by the Manor he makes sure to pick up an extra large strawberry fudge shake and discovers that Lurch has a rather large sweet tooth and an equally large grin.

But I bet that the moment they find out that Maddie and Jack have threatened their son with genuine bodily harm they would 100% be willing to donate their personal guillotine for the good of the family. Cause ya know, torture and dismemberment is only fun if everyone involved is having a good time. And honestly, the manor has so many rooms that are collecting perfectly good dust with no one to put it to good use. The Addamses look out for each other, regardless of how distantly related or how seemingly dead you are.

Danny can't wait to introduce Jazz.

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I actually wrote this as a reblog of the first DP x Addams post that I came across (@limbless-ghosts). It was like an epiphany and I literally keyboard smashed this out while I was meant to be watering my plants. So I'm chucking what I wrote into its own post cause I recently also found out that reblogs don't pop up when you use the search bar and I need more people to be aware of this.

Also cause I'm kinda surprised but how little Addams content there is - not in relation to the new Wednesday series - like, there is still a lot but I honestly thought there would be more. I also thought the Addams fandom on ao3 would be better but it is criminally lacking.

Anyways,,,,,,, welcome to my new fixation - there will be more 🙃