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aerynwrites · 7 months

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Longing Pt. 2

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: it’s FINALLY here - sorry for taking so long with it lmao. NSFW stuff, while I love it is so hard for me to write. But here you go! I hope you all enjoy this spicy conclusion to this story!

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY || smut, virgin!Reader, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Halsin being a total sweetheart by duh, fluff so much fluff and soft, aftercare (kinda?), outdoor sex, kissing, more fluff.

Part 1 || Masterlist

The early evening air is warm as it kisses your skin through the forest canopy. It’s the one thing you notice most besides the soft cloth covering your eyes, a familiar warm hand in your own being your guide through the foliage.

“Halsin, why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?” you ask, laughing through the question.

“Because, my heart, if I told you what was in store, it would no longer be a surprise,” he rebuffs, and you can practically hear the smile in his words.

You let out a little huff, but don’t argue further, letting the druid lead you through the forest by hand.

The journey is slow, with Halsin careful to guide you around any roots or rocks so you don’t stumble over the terrain, and you use the time to try and figure out where he’s taking you.

The smells of the forest fill your nose, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet, and you can even feel the last rays of the day’s light on your skin through the branches of the trees. But what gives you the most information is the sound of water roaring in the distance.

The waterfall.

Halsin had shown it to you just a few days prior, having found it on one of his outings in wild shape form. You remember vividly his barely contained excitement as he tugged you through the woods to show you, the blindfold withstanding.

You start to wonder why he would bring you back here so soon, and you cheeks heat at the first thought that comes to mind. When you had both arrived at the destination last time, you’d wasted little time stripping from your armor down to your underclothes and jumping in - Halsin not far behind you.

The druid had pulled you into his arms then, lips claiming your own as he maneuvered you both behind the waterfall’s curtain. You had almost jumped the proverbial cliff then, finally feeling comfortable enough to take that final step with him.

But he had pulled away, smiling down at you before tugging you back out into the water and recalling a story from his childhood.

As the sound of the waterfall grows ever louder, you silently hope for a repeat of those events.

However, the true intent of this trip is revealed when Halsin finally brings you to a stop, hands sitting comfortingly on your shoulders.

“We’re here,” he says, gently tugging at the knot holding your blindfold together.

The cloth falls away from your eyes and you blink to adjust to the light. Your surroundings come into focus slowly and you realize that you are near the same waterfall, but instead of by the river below it, you’re in a small clearing above it. You see the small river that feeds it running steadily by before moving to rush down the cliff side. And the view…it takes your breath away.

The clearing sits above the valley that holds your camp, letting you see for miles, the slowly descending sun casting an ethereal orange glow over the landscape.

Finally, your eyes land on what you assume is the last part of the surprise Halsin has planned.

In the middle of the clearing, just a few yards from the river’s edge, is an arrangement of dozens of furs laid out on the grass. You see a small burlap sack which you assume holds an assortment of food and drinks. And there’s even…candles. Some short, some tall - all of them spread around the space and lit, giving the moment a more… intimate feel than is already present.

Soft lips press against your temple before trailing down to brush your jaw.

“What do you think, my love?”

His words are soft, and you detect a hint of hesitance in them, as if he is worried you would reject this thoughtful presentation.

You turn around in his arms, lips spreading into a wide smile, your arms slipping around his waist as his do the same.

“You did all this? Is this where you were all day?” you ask, remembering his absence from your side this morning when you woke.

The druid nods. “When I found this place the idea immediately came to mind and I…I wanted to surprise you.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words, his thoughtfulness nearly knocking you off your feet.

You love this man.

“Well,” you finally say, leaning back to look up at him. “Consider me surprised. But…” you trail off, brows furrowing in question. “Is there an occasion for all this?”

Halsin pauses then, seemingly considering his words. You wait patiently as he does so, relishing in his embrace, his thumbs brushing over your hips slowly.

“I will not lie and say I have no goals in mind for this night but…” He pauses, eyes trailing over your face, hands tightening on your hips. “I just want to show you my love. In all the ways nature intended. If you will have me.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, picking up on their meaning as all the warmth in your chest shifts down to pool in your belly instead.

You smile up at him again before leaning in to hug him, cheek pressed against his chest as he returns the affection.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Halsin leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away quicker than you like, eyes shining with happiness as he leads you towards the furs.

“Let us eat first, while the sun still graces us with her presence. I gathered some of your favorites.”

The fur is soft beneath your feet as you remove your boots and move to settle onto the large makeshift blanket, Halsin right behind you. Idle talk fills the air as he begins pulling items from the bag, and you can’t stop the way your mouth waters at the presentation before you.

Various meats and cheeses, fresh fruit, wine, and even freshly baked items. Blueberry tarts. Sweet buns. This has obviously been in the works for a good while for him to find time to locate these items - a realization that makes your heart swell with adoration.

Quickly, before Halsin has finished unpacking, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips, cheeks warm.

“Thank you. For all of this, for everything.”

Pausing his work, Halsin smiles, leaning over on one hand before reaching up to cup the back of your neck with the other. He brings his lips back to yours, and this kiss lasts a little longer before he pulls away to gaze at you.

“You deserve all nature has to provide, my heart. I’m simply showing you its bounty,” he tells you, leaning back to pick up one of the blueberry pastries.

He tears off a small piece before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling.

You raise a brow, unable to stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Feeding me by hand now, too?” you ask, scooting forward to close in on the treat. “Careful, you might just spoil me.”

You take the offered bite between your teeth, lips brushing the tips of his fingers before he pulls back. The pastry practically melts on your tongue, the crust buttery and flaky - a direct contrast to the tart sweetness of the blueberry mixture.

You can’t stop the moan of appreciation that comes from you as you savor the treat, already wanting more.

Halsin smiles, tearing off another bite and offering to you again. “I would give you the moon and stars in the sky if it is what you wished,” he says, eyes crinkling happily when you take the offering again.

You let out a contented hum, scooting until you’re finally side by side with your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“As nice as that sounds…I’m perfectly content with blueberry tarts and sweet buns.” You reach up to toy with one of the braid in his hair. “And you, of course.”

Halsin laughs at your addition, the sound loud and joyous as it echoes through the trees. “I am honored to be listed among the sweetest of treats. Although, I must disappoint you and say that honey might always be my first love.”

You scoff, feigning hurt as you lean away from him, a hand over your heart. “I’m wounded. I thought what we had was special.”

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his lap effortlessly as he attacks your neck and shoulders with kisses, making giggles erupt from your lips.

“You know I only jest,” he tells you as he finally pulls away, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You are the only thing my heart desires. The moon to my night sky and the soil to my earth. Nothing could ever compare.”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you have to blink to keep them back, his words making your heart so full you feel it might burst.

Cupping his face gently, you take a moment to let your eyes roam, taking in everything about the man beneath you. His scars that some might be frightened by, but you think makes him more handsome. The curving crimson tattoo that adorns his skin. His strong brow that complements his soft hazel eyes. And his lips…lips that smile down at you so often you sometimes worry they might get stuck that way. The smile that makes crow's feet appear at his eyes and show years of laughter he’s shared.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to each cheek before finally meeting his lips, holding him to you until the need for air arises.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, meaning every word.

————

The evening continues much like this. Eating and drinking and sharing kisses between, until you’re too full to continue. By then, night has fallen and has you both on your backs next to one another, eyes turned towards the stars as you each point out constellations and the stories behind them.

Halsin shows you the one representing Silvanus and goes on to tell you about his god and the stories behind his origin. You show him a constellation of the goddess your parents worshiped, recalling fond memories of your childhood.

A gasp falls from your lips in the middle of the story, eyes widening as you point up to the sky.

“Halsin, look, a shooting star!”

The little white light streaks across the sky, and you reach over to grab his hand in yours. “Close your eyes and make a wish!” you demand, eyes scrunching closed childishly.

You open your eyes once more only to see dozens of other stars following the first. Flashes of light igniting the sky before fading away.

You’ve never seen anything like it.

“Wow, it’s…beautiful,” you whisper.

You hear Halsin him in agreement. “It is…Nature has once again outdone itself.”

You turn to look at him, only to see his eyes aren’t on the sky at all.

They’re on you.

“You’re not even looking,” you chastise quietly.

Halsin smiles. “I’m looking at something more beautiful than even the stars.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks once more. “Halsin…”

Before your protest can continue, Halsin is moving. He rolls deftly towards you, hand never leaving yours until he pins it beneath his own beside your head, hovering over you. Your heart leaps in your chest, legs moving instinctively to cradle his hips as he settles above you.

His hair falls over his shoulders, the small braids swaying slightly in the soft breeze that whispers through the forest. His hand squeezes your own before his other comes up to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I do not speak words without them being truthful - false niceties are an affront to those we care about, and I do not say these things insincerely,” he tells you, voice unusually quiet. “My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. Allow me to show you the pleasures of the heart, my love.”

Excitement stirs in your chest before settling lower, warming your belly and making arousal thrum through your veins. You nod, reaching up to card your fingers through soft honey colored hair, before settling at the back of his neck.

He responds swiftly to your silent approval, his lips coming down to capture yours in a kiss so unlike the others you’ve shared tonight. They were soft and gentle and chaste, but this…

This is all consuming.

It’s heated, but not rushed. Firm, but not uncaring. His lips move against yours as if he’s pouring all his devotion into you, tongue teasing your lips until you grant him entrance.

Sighs and groans leave you both, swallowed by the other or lost to the night air as hands and lips start to roam.

Halsin shifts above you, moving to straddle your hips as his lips travel from yours to leave suckling kisses at your jaw, his hands moving to settle on your waist.

Your own hands fumble, not sure where to go when they want to touch him everywhere. They flit from his hips to his waist down to his thighs before running back up to tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers twitching as they itch to slip beneath the fabric.

Gods… you’ve never done this before. Is it too forward? Should you wait? Will he want to undress you first? What if-

Halsin’s soft chuckle rips you from your racing thoughts as he presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, nipping lightly.

“You are free to touch, my love,” he says, as if reading your unsure thoughts. “I know I plan to. So, I believe it’s only fair of you to do the same.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, his promise to touch you as you want to touch him. But his encouragement works, and before you let your insecurity take over once more, you slide your hands under his shirt.

You sigh as your hands meet his skin, instantly relishing in the heat radiating from him. The fabric rides up around your wrists as you reach higher, fingers tracing each and every muscle and divot in his skin. You think you can faintly feel scars marring his flesh, some large, some small as they stretch across his skin.

You aren’t left to wonder for long though, as Halsin pulls himself from you only long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it to the side before leaning forward once more, covering you with his body.

You almost let out a whine, wanting more than just a second to take him in, but the thought is quickly forgotten as his lips return to you once more, this time relentless against the sensitive skin of your neck.

His teeth gently nip at you before his tongue comes behind to soothe the mark he’s no doubt left behind.

Your hands trail up from where they rest at his sides, coming to run over his chest, the dark hair tickling your palms until they eventually flit upwards to rest against his shoulders.

Expert fingers tug at the laces of your top, and your eyes fall to meet those of the man above you. He’s pulled away from you now, eyes searching your face as he continues to toy with the front of your shirt.

Your chest is heaving, and it’s only in this moment of silence do you realize the heat running through you. The way your toes curl into the furs beneath you, the tingling and pleasure settling low in your belly.

Gods, you want him.

You arch up into his hands ever so slightly. “You don’t have to ask,” you say, tone impatient, a surprise even to you.

Halsin’s brows furrow, lips turning down ever so slightly. “Of course I do.” He leans down to place a kiss to the corner of your lips before trailing a path down your jaw to just below your ear. “Your comfort is my utmost priority, so I will ask each and every time.”

His over abundance of care makes warmth bloom in your chest, disposing what little nerves may have been lingering in the back of your mind.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips with yours as you give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“I can assure you,” you tell him, pulling away from the kiss just enough to raise your arms above your head. “I’ll be most comfortable when we’re both rid of all our clothing.”

Halsin smiles, eyes twinkling with amusement. “As nature intended.”

You can’t stop the giggle that slips past your lips as Halsin lifts your shirt over your arms. You’re used to his druidic nature quips, but they still always manage to bring a smile to your face.

Halsin is quick to oblige your request, and soon you’re both bare against the furs, and that tiny tinge of uncertainty is back as Halsin’s eyes roam over you.

Without thought, your arms come up to cover yourself, but Halsin is quick to stop you in your tracks. He takes your hands in his, threading your fingers together before pressing them into the ground beside your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he whispers, leaning down to brush gentle lips over your collarbone and down lower. “You are beautiful - more radiant than the sun on a clear day and more ethereal than the moon at its fullest.”

He nips at the swell of your breast before kissing the soft skin and traveling lower, pausing between the valley of your chest to shower kisses over the softness of your stomach.

Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding, arousal shooting to your core as you realize the path he’s taking and his most likely destination.

“Halsin…” His name leaves your lips in a gasp as his hands leave yours to follow the path his lips took just moments before.

You can feel the roughness of his palms in stark contrast to the softness of your skin, arching up into them as he reaches your breasts, kneading them in his hands.

His thumbs brush over stiffened peaks, teasing as his lips move lower, nose nudging at your navel.

“I wish to know all of you, my heart - body and soul.” His lips move against the delicate skin of your hip, breath fanning over your most intimate parts. “I have longed to taste you, to have you come undone on my tongue before I show you the other pleasures nature has to offer.”

You’ve honestly never really thought about this before, your mind always jumping to the ‘ main act,’ if you will. But now, with Halsin’s hands on you and his lips so close to where you ache for him to touch you…You find you’ve never wanted anything more.

Your hips lift from the furs involuntarily, and Halsin’s hands are quick to slide down to your hips, holding you in place gently as a chuckle leaves his lips, ghosting against the crux of you once more.

“Yes - please …” The words fall from your lips in hushed whispers, the breath having long since left you.

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. It’s not like Halsin was asking, but he must find your quiet words pleasing as another amused rumble comes from him.

He’s down lower now, his lips brushing teasingly against the inside of your knee, placing feather light kisses up along your inner thigh.

“I’ll have you begging for much more than this before the night is done.”

A shudder runs through you at his words and before a retort can even come to your mind, his mouth is on you, stealing all thoughts away. A gasp falls from your lips as your fingers move to tangle in his hair, wanting to keep him close and push him away all at once.

His tongue parts you eagerly, his nose bumping against your clit as he teases your entrance.

Arousal is hot and piercing in your core, making you even wetter than you were before, Halsin’s ministrations spurring your pleasure higher and higher with each expert stroke.

The sensation is so… foreign. Something you’ve never experienced before that has you craving more and wanting to run away at the same time. Inexperience and utter pleasure push and shove at one another, until the latter wins out as Halsin presses one finger against you, sinking in ever so slowly.

His tongue, his lips, and now his finger sinking into you makes that feeling in your belly crescendo, a feeling new to you. You don’t know whether to urge him on or tell him to stop.

As if sensing your dilemma, Halsin adds another finger, making your jaw drop open as he crooks them inside of you, brushing up against a spot that makes you see stars.

He pulls away from you then, pressing a hurried kiss to your hip, nipping at the skin there.

“ Let go for me, little one. ”

His words are the last thing you need to catapult you over the ledge you’ve never jumped before. The tension in your core bursts, the taut pressure snapping in two as your body arches into Halsin’s.

Utter euphoria rushes through your veins in a burning tidal wave, toes curling, fingers tingling from where they still clutch at his hair. You can’t even find it in you to think about loosening your grip, the pleasure coursing through you like an electric current and locking you in place.

You have nearly no idea how much time has passed before your mind comes back to you, your chest heaving with tired pants as Halsin kisses his way back up to you, nuzzling your jaw before peppering kisses to your cheeks as his hands rub soothing patterns against your sides.

“That was…” You trail off, both lost for words and still trying to get your breath back. “A lot.”

Halsin chuckles again, making you warm inside for a completely different reason as he presses his lips to yours in a slow kiss before pulling away to press another one to your temple, lips tugged up in a grin.

“Well…I did promise to overwhelm you,” he says, calling back to your conversation all those weeks ago.

You huff out a short laugh of your own, arms coming up to wrap under his own so your hands rest against the back of his shoulders.

“Consider me overwhelmed.”

That smile still on his lips, Halsin comes back down to nuzzle at your jaw again, hands trailing down your sides to rest on your thighs, guiding them to cradle his hips as he press his body more fully into yours.

A short gasp slips past your lips as you feel him against you, hot and heavy against your inner thigh. You can’t help the way your eyes glance downwards, widening at the sight of him. You hadn’t really thought to look earlier, everything else holding your attention instead, but…

Good gods above-

“ Will it fit?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think better of it, the hot swell of embarrassment creeping up your neck as Halsin laughs again, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet forest.

He pulls you closer to him, your chest brushing his own as he captures your lips again. One hand reaching up to cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly against the skin there.

When he pulls away, it’s just far enough for his forehead to rest gently against yours.

“I will go slow,” he assures you, pressing soft kisses to our brow, “but you must be my guide, tell me what pleasures you most or what causes you discomfort and I will adjust accordingly.”

Once again, despite this intimate moment, Halsin is ever the considerate, giving partner. Never putting his pleasure above yours.

You smile up at him, fingers pressing into his back slightly.

“Thank you.” You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “But I…I want you to enjoy this, too. It doesn’t have to be about just me.”

Halsin eyes twinkle in delight, one corner of his lips tugging upwards in that rare but beguiling smirk.

“Trust me, my heart - I am enjoying myself more than you can imagine. You are giving me a most precious gift, your trust - it is more than this old druid could ever ask for.”

His words once again, strike deep, your arousal and happiness all swirling into one big ball in your chest about to burst. You tug him down on top of you, relishing in the closeness of his chest against yours, his hands on your skin, his lips on your cheek.

“You have it,” you tell him, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you, Halsin. Please… I trust you.”

“I love you too, my heart.”

Halsin’s words are but a whisper against your lips before he claims them again, mounding you to him as he positions himself to press at your entrance.

He enters slowly, never breaking your kiss, swallowing the sharp gasp that leaves you. Your fingers dig into his back at the intrusion - while not painful, it is foreign; a pleasurable pressure within you that expands more and more the deeper into you he goes.

Your earlier orgasm makes his movements easier, but he still pauses when he meets resistance, a sharp intake of breath from you all he needs as an indicator.

He breaks his lips from yours, reaching up to brush a stray hair from your forehead now dewy with perspiration. His brow furrows in concern.

“Are you alright?”

You nod. It’s the truth - you are fine, there is no pain, but, gods, you already feel full and you haven’t even taken him fully yet.

“I-I’m fine, just-“ Another breathless gasp as he twitches inside you. “Go s - slow.”

Halsin obliges, working into you in slow, measured thrusts, pulling back before sinking a little deeper each time. Each movement, no matter how small - how tempered - sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the flame that never really seemed to go out.

It’s like everything is amplified by a thousand with him moving against you. The way the hair on his chest brushes against your skin sends tingles down your spine. The blood rushing in your ears, the soft pants he exhales - breath warm against your cheek from where his forehead nuzzles your own. His hand feels like a branding iron against your skin where he pulls your leg up over his hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks behind.

You can tell he’s holding back, using every ounce of control he has to please you - to not rush this.

Your heart aches in the best way when he finally - finally - bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. His head falls to your shoulder, and the groan he lets out is sinful enough to match the moan that falls from your own lips - his name a whispered prayer in the night air.

You’re so full it feels like you can’t take a full breath without feeling him everywhere. Inside you, on top of you, his lips against your skin and his hands holding you in just the right way. You feel…made for him. Him made for you. Like pieces of a puzzle finally joining together.

You relish in the feeling of him like this. But more than that, you desperately want him to move, your hips twitching against his in silent request. Only, when he doesn’t respond do you speak up.

“I think…I’m alright, you can move,” you tell him, voice breathy.

You feel him nod against your shoulder, hair tickling the sensitive skin there as he speaks. “Yes I, ah - just need a moment.”

One of your hands runs down his back and then up again, your legs squeezing his hips gently. “Are you okay?”

Halsin laughs quietly, breath hot against your skin before pulling away, lifting one hand up to cradle your cheek as he gazes down at you in utter adoration.

“Yes, just…admiring all of nature's creations, and…considering how very lucky I am.”

You smile up at him, eyes starting to feel watery at the sincerity behind his words. “Halsin, I…I’m lucky too.”

His lips turn upwards before he leans down to place a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips before pulling away. “I care about you a great deal. More than…more than I can express. So, I will do my best to show you.”

His meaningful words end just as he decides to move, pulling out before sliding back in with one smooth thrust. The movement makes stars erupt before you as your eyes clamp shut, pleasure singing through you.

Halsin picks up his speed when you offer no complaint, skin slapping against skin as he finds a steady rhythm. His lips press haphazardly against you, moving from your neck to your collarbone, down and then back up again, as if he wants to worship all of you but doesn’t know where to start.

One of his hands plants itself in the furs beside your head, fingers digging into the soft fabric for purchase while the other falls down to grip your leg again, tugging it ever higher on his hip, allowing him to press deeper into you.

A high-pitched cry escapes your lips at the movement, the new angle letting him hit something devastating inside of you with each thrust.

Your fingers dig into his back, nails no doubt leaving behind marks as they score down his shoulder blades, desperate to pull him closer. He drops down to bear his weight on his forearm, pushing himself closer to you, pressing you into the furs beneath you as if he too can’t get close enough.

“ Oak Father preserve me,” Halsin practically growls, burying his face into your shoulder, blunt teeth digging into your skin before he speaks again. “You are so… perfect. Like you were created by the gods themselves just for me,” he groans as his hips stutter momentarily, grinding up into you. “I love you, my heart, more than words or any actions can describe.”

His words, the way he feels inside you, the way his lips smooth the dull ache his teeth left behind, it’s all too much. It’s overwhelming in the best way as that coil in your belly pulls taut again, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, one of your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, holding him to you as your legs finally move to wrap around his waist, heels digging into him, urging him on - silently begging him to bring you both to release.

“I love you too.” The words come out hoarse and broken.“ Fuck, Halsin I - I’m close, please… ”

He responds to your plea, his hips stuttering as he nears his own end. He turns his head ever so slightly, lips brushing your ear before placing a gentle kiss just below, whispering sweet nothings against your skin.

He reaches his end just before you do, and it brings about your own euphoria. The cord snaps just as his hips do against yours, warmth flooding you inside and out as you topple over the edge. His name falls from your lips over and over, a provocative incantation for only the night and the man above you to hear.

He works you through your release, only stilling when you’re both spent, chests rising and falling against one another, skin damp with sweat as you pull each other closer still.

Halsin tucks both arms beneath you as you slowly come down, pulling you tight against him as he rolls you both onto your sides.

Neither of you speak for several moments, instead choosing to bask in the afterglow, relishing the cool night air against your heated skin. Only when Halsin’s hand starts to trail random patterns against your back does he finally speak.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice gentle with just a touch of concern lacing his words.

You look up at him, brows furrowed. “Did I do something to suggest otherwise?”

Halsin shakes his head, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back from your face. “No, but I…I know I am…more than most. I just wanted to ensure there were no…lingering discomforts.”

You shake your head. Other than the dull ache between your thighs, which you do not regret…there’s not a scratch on you. And you couldn’t feel better.

“No discomforts here,” you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “None that I’m going to complain about, anyway.”

Halsin lets out an amused huff before rolling once more so you rest on top of him, ignoring your gasp of surprise. “Good,” he says, reaching up to run warm hands down your sides before resting on your hips, eyes meeting yours once more. “I truly meant it when I said this was a gift. You are a gift, the greatest treasure Silvanus could have ever bestowed upon me.”

Halsin reaches up to take one of your hands that rests on his chest, bringing it up to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “You honor me by choosing to be by my side.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and words fail you at first. So, you lean forward to hide your face against him, nose brushing just below his ear as you nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder.

“I’ve never…” You trail off before finally finding your words. “I’ve never trusted someone enough to…take this step with,” you admit, arms moving to wrap around him, hands tucking between his back and the furs beneath him. “Thank you for loving me enough to show me what it's like.”

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you to him as his lips brush your temple.

“The pleasure was all mine, my heart. I love you more than the moon loves the stars and the sun loves the earth.”

You smile against him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness. “That’s a lot of love…might take a while to get it all out.”

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “That just means more nights with you in my arms.”

You hum in agreement, finally letting your eyes fall shut. And, as Halsin’s arms hold you tight, you both fall asleep under the stars, nature surrounding you.

#Halsin x reader #halsin x fem!reader #Halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #halsin

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Text

Eyes Meeting

Masterlist Here. Part 2 here.

Word Count: 3,625

PLOT: Sanji is in a relationship with the ships chronicler. Zoro accidentally stumbles across them engaging together in intimacy. As soon as his eyes meet with the chronicler's, he is enchanted by their beauty in their bliss. Warnings: Smut, voyeurism, mdni, p in v, oral f receiving, "good girl" gendered term used, consent, throuple chemistry.

(Image Source)

Tag list: @sordidmusings@feral-artistry@gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix

The first time Zoro caught you and Sanji, he was placed with the task to request a meal for the Captain of the Going Merry. Luffy was hungry, and the chef was nowhere to be found. Zoro checked the kitchens first, followed by the crew quarters; the only members of the Straw-Hat crew located were Usopp and Nami, both hyper involved with their own personal tasks of tinkering and corroborating their findings before making port at the next suitable docks.

Luffy was sleeping in the mens joint crew quarters, splayed over all four hammocks with his body melting between each of the woven sheets. No chef, no chronicler in sight.

As he was about to give up the search for his two missing crewmen, he heard a chorus of voices melding together in the barrel of the crowsnest. It sounded like hushed conversation; no doubt sharing of ingredients needed to be procured and restocked in the next town. As Zoro made the climb of the ropes, he prepared a pre-emptive quip to piss off the chef in his head - all thoughts halting as his head peered over the barrel edge of the crows nest.

Shirts askew, the darkened tie atop Sanji’s neck was firmly clutched within your fisted grasp. Pants pooled below his hips, your bottom half completely removed from your body all together and cast off beside you. The chef caged you beneath him, your hair splayed carelessly below you as Sanji thrust into you with the firm slap of thighs and hips meeting. Your legs were hooked over Sanji’s hips, his hand desperately raking up your flesh and grinding his pelvis into you with every deep thrust.

Dual groans and mewls were cast into the air, silenced only by your restraint as Sanji continued to drill your bodies to chase their highs. You arched your back, cocking your head over to the side as Sanji pressed a desperate flurry of open-mouthed kisses against your pulse. Your eyes were closed, jaw slack and brow furrowed as Sanji continued to please you; blissfully ignorant to the presence of the swordsman who was completely oblivious to the fact that the two of you were in a relationship.

Until you opened your eyes. Eyes meeting immediately with the surprised expression of the tri-wielding swordsman. As soon as Zoro made eye contact with your glazed-over, lust blown eyes; his face tinted the deepest shade of red it could muster with its elevated flush. His breath hitched in his throat, the quip he had planned on uttering was flung hastily from all memory. He had never seen something so beautiful, yet so forbidden, in his life. You were breathtaking; even when caged below someone like the shit-cook.

You quickly scrambled beneath Sanji, tapping his shoulder repetitively and warning him with your voice calling up at him. Snapping his eyes up, his gray gaze was met with the descending moss-colored hair as he bobbed beneath the wooden frame and hastily scrambled down the woven rope attached to the mast.

“What is it, Dove? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Sanji hastily asked you, drawing up his right palm to collect your cheek. Your eyes were still wide with panic as they met your lover’s, who’s affectionate and concerned gaze immediately melted your heart.

“No, Sweetheart, nothing like that,” you reassured him, pressing a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, “We-... -We had some company, that's all.” Sanji’s eyes widened, looking over to the edge of the crows nest.

“Who saw-,” he began, halting his words as you confirmed his greatest insecurity.

“Zoro,” you sympathetically confessed. Immediately, Sanji’s cock softened; the mood tinting the air no longer filled with lust and desire at the utterance of his name. Sanji groaned in frustration, looking down to where your bodies once met and noticed the fresh pool of arousal coating your entrance. Perplexed and confused, he continued to look down at your core before looking to seek out your face; noticing you were glancing off to the side of where Zoro was priorly standing.

“And-... And you enjoyed him watching us? Us together?” His question sounded more like a statement, reaching down with his fingertips to pry apart your glistening folds. You gasped at the contact; shame and surprise both falling to you as he drew his fingers away from your entrance and presented to you.

“Look, Dove! Look how wet you got!” He chuckled, his cock beginning to spring back to life at this small amount of knowledge. “Ohhh,” His taunting voice teased you, a suggestive and playful smile toying with you as he drew his hands up your thighs once more, “Somebody’s got a kink.”

“And you don’t mind-... Truly, Sanji? That this is-...” you trailed off, avoiding the unspoken question. Sanji sighed out a huffed laugh, looking down at you as he repositioned himself above you.

“My darling,” Sanji began, drawing up his hand to swipe a stray hair from your forehead to reveal your concerned face up to him, “I can share, you know. If that’s something you’re interested in, I am capable of playing nice.”

He slowly dragged his throbbing cock back into you, hunching his shoulders and huffing out a panted and strained breath of bliss. You threw your head back as you took in his entire length, body once again stretching to accommodate for his mass.

“Even if it is with that stupid Moss-Head.”

The second time he caught the two of you, he thought he was safe. It was two hours past midnight; the ship was lulling steadily with the crashing waves meeting the hull. The dull snores protruding from Usopp’s mouth was eclipsed by the growling roar of Luffy’s - both inhibiting the swordsman from acquiring adequate slumber.

“Fuck this,” he uttered under his breath as he threw his legs over the side of the hammock and began his slow ascension towards the kitchens. Beer, he needed a beer. Perhaps even two. With a sake chaser, even.

As the door opened, he first didn’t even see your body sitting within the right angle of the corner booth. Your eyes shut, head lulling back as you grasped the wooden table with your knuckles shaded almost white at the firmness of your closed fist. If he didn’t notice you, he surely didn’t notice Sanji beneath the table; with his tongue eagerly lapping your needy and desperate clit and raking his way down to your quaking entrance.

Heavy thuds of boot covered feet broke you from your trance, Sanji’s tongue halting its movement momentarily as you both held your breath. Still as marble statues, you waited for the sleepless knight protector of the crew to retrieve what he desired and leave the kitchen for your private moment.

Until you felt Sanji’s smiling lips press a mischievous kiss atop your inner thigh and trail dangerously close to your desperate, twitching and quivering clit. Your eyes widened in panic as Sanji tested a small, kitten lick against the pearled bud; prompting you to bite down hard on your bottom lip to halt a cry of bliss.

At this muffled sound, Zoro paused his hands as they gripped the glass neck of a brown beer bottle within the refrigerator unit. He knew what was behind him. He could recognise that beautiful muffled melodious cry anywhere. That sound plagued his thoughts, eclipsed his dreams and drew many a fantasy to the forefront of his mind as he chased his own release within his fisted grasp.

Zoro took in a slow and concentrated breath, retrieving two bottles of beer from the fridge within his right hand and turning towards the scene laid out before him. He completely ignored the fact he could see the matte, leather bottoms of Sanji’s black boots, and focussed solely on your expression.

“Chronicler,” he addressed you, gazing his hazelnut orbs directly into yours. You bit back another cry as Sanji pressed an open-mouthed kiss atop your sensitive nerve.

“S-Swordsman,” you managed to squeak out, hastily bringing your hands below you to attempt to draw Sanji’s face away from you. Sanji caught your wrists in his grasp and pinned them to the chair beside you.

“You want a beer?” Zoro asked, his brow arching up as he slowly raked his eyes over your face. Your pulse was elevated and physically throbbing against your throat, your jaw clenched tightly shut and breath hitching.

“That sounds wonderful,” you grit your teeth as you attempt to halt Sanji’s lewd actions by closing your thighs around his head. He huffed out a laugh, bullying your legs to remain open as he dove back into making love with you with his tongue. He lapped, kissed and swirled his soft organ against you. Each twirled motion of his tongue had the pleasant scrape of his oral frenulum piercing against your flesh.

Zoro narrowed his eyes, darting them between your lust-blown orbs. Your lip quivered, a lustful whimper threatening to spill over as Sanji continued flattening his skilled tongue against your clit and labia. Zoro’s jaw hung slack, watching your face attempting to hold back its contortion in bliss with sheer willpower and control alone. In two quick strides, Zoro was at the seat directly across from you and kicked it out with his right foot.

“This seat taken?” He arched his brow up, darkening his eyes at you with his own lust dictated with his blown pupils.

“Be my guest,” you managed to huff out, fighting with all your might to halt your eyes from rolling back into your skull as Sanji’s firm grip continued to hold your hands in place. The approach of your stuttering climax was approaching dangerously close to the edge; your sanity almost tipping over as Zoro continued to make nonchalant and polite conversation with you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked you, uncapping both of the beer bottles and placing one in front of you.

“Not y-yet,” you gasped, choking as Sanji began to bob his head with each motion against you. The coil within your abdomen began to twist, your toes and calves numbing and tingling indicating how close your climax was, “You?”

“Somethin’ keepin’ me up,” Zoro nodded, raising the neck of the beer bottle up to his lips and maintaining eye contact with your own. You strained against the desire to rock your hips against Sanji’s face, keeping still your only course of action to remain concealed as to what exactly was occurring below the table.

“O-Oh?” you quirked your head, a small strained laugh of anxiety falling from your lips as you began to panic at how close you were.

As Sanji continued to work you up, nuzzling his face against your core and trailing sensual kisses and romancing your glistening folds with his skillful ministrations; all you managed to relay to the swordsman a small strangled apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Z-Zoro,” you whimpered, your eyes filling slightly with embarrassed tears, “S-San-... Sanji!” At that, the coil within the pit of your stomach snapped, your eyes unintentionally closing as your brows furrowed in bliss. Jaw hanging slack, you cried out an unrestrained strangulation of groans and whimpers as you unintentionally rocked yourself against Sanji’s face. Riding your high, the swirl of pressure slowly turned into overstimulation with the fervor to which Sanji continued to dine on your arousal; lapping and cleaning as you gushed on his face.

As soon as you recovered, you reopened your closed eyes; noticing the concentrated and unwavering expression of the swordsman in front of you. He was hypnotized. He was stuck in a trance, experiencing empathetic pleasure from watching your face contort in bliss as Sanji pleased you. Embarrassment was quickly replaced with shock as Zoro stood from his place against the table and hastily drained the remainder of the beer bottle.

He placed the empty glass container back down atop the table and stepped over to you. You fought the urge to cower away from him as he claimed your chin within his right thumb and index finger.

“Did you just cum on the cook’s face?” he asked you, face serious and eyes unblinking as he siphoned your post-orgasm honesty from your parted lips.

“Yes,” you confessed breathily, panting and recovering from your prior high. He hummed, looking down his nose at you before hastily stooping down towards you. Bringing his nose almost brushing your own, he circled your face with his own while remaining to firmly grasp your chin within his calloused fingertips.

Zoro smirked, huffing out a breath from his nose and drawing his lips up to press a chaste kiss atop your forehead. You gasped in shock, not expecting such a display of affection from the swordsman.

“Good girl,” he smirked, releasing your chin and turning to walk away from the two of you. Pausing at the door of the kitchen, he turned to witness Sanji crawling out from beneath the table and drawing his smiling lips up into a cocky smirk.

“You’re an ass,” you whispered your reprimand at the chef, prompting an unrestrained chuckle to fall from his lips gleefully. You hastily drew your hands up and collected the beer Zoro offered you earlier and hastily guzzled down the liquid as a balm for your nerves.

“Yes,” Sanji confessed to you with a chuckle, “But I’m your ass. And you,” he stepped closer to you, “Oh you. You loved that.”

The third time Zoro caught the two of you, you were again in the kitchen. As the Going Merry docked at port; you and Sanji opted to remain behind to keep the ship secure and ensure all stock was listed in full. Nami nodded, accepting that as a viable option for two crewmen to remain behind. Usopp shrugged and uttered words of bringing back tales of their adventures upon their return. Luffy was in too much of a rush to sample the local delicacies to pay any heed to the amount of crewmen remaining behind, his nose and stomach immediately leading him onward in venturing inland.

But Zoro knew better. He knew that as soon as the crew were off on an adventure; the two of you would be tearing off each others clothes and fucking over every inch of undisturbed surface presented - no longer plagued with the confines of remaining quiet to not disturb the slumber nor focus of the crew.

And that is exactly where he found you, looking deeply into the eyes of your blond lover with a playful smile; one mimicked by the man in front of you. He stood in the doorway as inconspicuous as he could make himself - only to have that illusion shattered by a single call from the blond chef.

“Yo, Moss,” Sanji called over to the door, “You there already?” Zoro did not want to talk to the shit-cook. His cock was straining uncomfortably against the front of his pants, brushing the sensitive tip against his rough pants.

Zoro growled in frustration at him, stepping to fall into the light of the kitchen. Zoro was met with the sight of Sanji hoisting you upwards by your thighs and placing you against the teal benchtop. Your missing bottoms were lying askew with Sanji’s shirt and tie on the floor, as Sanji stood between your legs, fumbling with his belt but otherwise completely bare. Your bra strap hung limply from your shoulder, your breasts remaining perfectly secure within the cups but marked with a litter of kisses trailing up your clavicle to your pulse.

“You staying for the show?” he teased him, releasing his pretty cock from the confines of his pants and teasing the tip between your folds. Shock and panic was written over your face, unsure of how to react to such a suggestion.

“You want curbside?” Sanji called over his shoulder at the swordsman, slowly stretching you with his shiny tip; pulsating with the heavy flow of arousal, “Or front row.”

Immediately, you clutched Sanji’s shoulders and raked your nails along their muscular curvature. Zoro couldn’t look away, your sultry eyes beckoning him to step closer with each slow blink. As Sanji began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, Zoro was pulled closer into the kitchen.

Closing the door behind him, he, at first, attempted to play his enthusiasm down and made his way over to the sink. His actions halted at the first strangled cry of pleasure being pulled from your throat by the deep thrusts of the chef within your warmth.

“You can call him over, you know,” Sanji whispered in a voice only audible to you before pressing a chaste kiss on your jaw, “You can even kiss him if you want.” At that small encouragement from your lover, you glanced over to the swordsman standing by the table; his knuckles white as they clutched the countertop.

“Zoro?” You called to him in a hushed whimper, drawing his attention immediately to you. Eyes meeting, he immediately began walking towards you and taking his desired place beside you. Sanji was relentless, not easing up his bullying pace against your entrance. With each thrust, your body quaked and legs shaked with the intensity of your excitement at this new aspect of your relationship.

Your toes curled as the angular tip of Sanji’s cock brushed with the sensitive upper middle of your walls, stimulating your g-spot and causing you to cry out a strangled whimper of bliss. Snapping quicker, Sanji continued to thrust and propel the both of you to your mutual orgasms - your walls thumping and squeezing his sensitive shaft with each drag within your core.

“You gonna cum?” Zoro asked you, his face dangerously close to yours, “You gonna be a good girl and cum on the cook’s cock?” You whimpered again, nodding in confirmation as Sanji continued to brace you against the countertop.

Hesitantly, Zoro broke eye contact with you and met Sanji’s eyes; wordlessly asking if it was okay to touch you with a pointed look. Sanji continued thrusting, nodding before placing his forehead against your shoulder and chasing his high. The swordsman drew back his eyes as he collected your cheek within his palm and pressed his forehead against yours.

“You’re taking his cock so well,” he complimented you, raking his hand down to grasp the back of your neck; the back of his hand almost brushing with Sanji’s cheek as he continued thrusting into you. Sanji reached down and began to stimulate your throbbing clit with circular motions. Your lips hung agape as the peak of your orgasm began to toy at the final barrier - refusing to break until Sanji met his climax.

“Go on,” Zoro encouraged you, brushing his chapped lips against your open mouth and gave you one final command, “Cum for him. Cum on his cock. I want to hear your pretty sounds as you come undone on his cock.” Zoro drew you in for a long kiss on your forehead, Sanji’s whimpers against your ear indicated he was about to spill his load within you.

“Oh, Dove-... I-I’m-... I can’t-... hnfmm-...” Sanji’s strangled cries were paired with ropes of thick cum painting your walls with their pearled beads. As soon as his stuttered movements began to frantically chase and thrust, your walls began pulsating as white sparks danced behind your eyes. Zoro broke the kiss, his eyes meeting your own as you screamed past the overstimulation of your electric orgasm.

“O-Oh, fuck,” Zoro whispered, his precum soaking his pants through his underwear. His cock twitched without stimulation, quivering in empathetic pleasure as it begged for a simple brush of movement. Without thinking, Zoro immediately thrust his hand into his pants, strangling his shiny knob in an attempt to halt his orgasm to no avail.

His palm was coated with the sticky strings of his orgasm, shuddering as he rode his triggered orgasm against his fist to chase his release. He gyrated into his hand, riding with the same staggered thrusts that Sanji was stimulating you with. Zoro placed a bruising kiss against your forehead as he continued to ride his high into his palm - surprise overcoming the three of you at this unrestrained collective bliss.

As you all came down from your mutual highs, Sanji removed himself from your arousal coated walls - a pool of mixed fluids leaking from your hole as you all began to regain composure.

“So,” Sanji began, walking his naked form over to the sink and preparing several elements to clean the mess he created with you, “You like to watch.” Zoro growled, prompting Sanji to laugh in response.

“I like to watch the chronicler, not you, chef,” Zoro growled, before realizing exactly what he was confessing. Shock overcame you once more. Too tired to care anymore, you turned to the swordsman and placed your hand on his shoulder; turning him to meet your eyes once more.

“I like you watching us, Zoro,” you confessed with a shy smile. He returned your soft smile, pressing his forehead to yours and sighing down into your face. Sanji turned back around, witnessing his lover press themselves against the knight of the Going Merry. He smiled at the sight, knowing truly how it felt to be loved by you. He was surprised at how much he, too, enjoyed being watched by the swordsman.

Perhaps he enjoyed being watched so much that he might desire to be the one watching next time.

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #sanji #zoro #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x reader x sanji #sanji x reader x zoro #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji x reader #black leg sanji #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #zosan x reader

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thepunkmuppet · 7 months

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the possible future of the hatchetfield series: hatchetfield halloween party livestream full rundown

again apologies if someone has already done something like this, but I’m procrastinating doing my coursework and just want to talk about hatchetfield I want everyone to be aware of this exciting stuff that was announced in the stream so here you go:

the next starkid musical to be released will not be in the hatchetfield universe.

the guy who didn’t like musicals will soon be ready to license.

nightmare time 3 was originally planned to be released in the same year as nightmare time 2 and will wrap up the overarching nightmare time stories (which seem to be miss holloway and the foster sisters respectively).

if they did a fourth hatchetfield musical, it would be about miss holloway and her backstory. it is already written. I am very very extremely normal about this fact 😃

there is a possibility of a hatchetfield movie, and workin’ boys was sort of a test for this concept. it would be a slasher murder mystery centering around the hatchetfield community players (zoey chambers and the cast of workin’ girls, possibly also with ruth, hidgens, alice and any other theatre-oriented characters but that part’s just my speculation). the transcription of the teaser description can be found below the nmt descriptions.

ok so here are the transcriptions of the nmt3 episode descriptions:

Story #1: Bottle Imps

Bill Woodward has been chosen to test CCRP’s latest and greatest product; Bottle Imps. These reality-bending buddies will bring their owner the one thing they desire most. When his new imp, Lovely, leads him to his soulmate, Bill decides to use his magical companion to play matchmaker. But to help Charlotte find the man of her dreams, Bill will have to bend the Imp’s rules. Rules he’s been warned, must never be broken…

Story #2: Frankenruth

Desperate to see a naked body, Ruth Fleming and Richie Lipschitz volunteer at the morgue of St. Damien’s Hospital. Their terrible plan becomes exponentially more terrible, when they become unwitting subjects in the experiments of the body-snatching madman, Doctor Laszlo, who claims to have conquered death itself. If Hatchetfield thought Ruth was bad before, then they will cower before the unspeakable horror of… Frankenruth!

Story #3: Becky Barnes Climbed a Tree

Becky Barnes is on top of the world! Not in a literal sense, of course. She’s deathly afraid of heights. After years of struggle, Becky’s life is finally everything she dreamed it would be. She’s engaged to her high school sweetheart, Tom Houston, and the two have a surprise baby on the way! But, as the couple prepare for the arrival of baby Marie, a shadow from Becky’s past returns to haunt them.

Story #4: Devil’s Night

Tim Houston has a crush. Unfortunately, it’s on his older, mature and totally cool babysitter, Grace Chasity, who he fears will never see him as anything but a snot-nosed little kid. But when a devilish maniac with murderous designs on Grace attacks Hatchetfield the night before Halloween, Tim must protect his beloved, or join the killer’s growing body count. It’s another slashing adventure on the night HE came home… Devil’s Night.

Story #5: (long special episode) Miss Holloween

It’s Halloween in Hatchetfield once again, and Miss Holloway is celebrating the same way she’s done for decades, staving off the horrors that go bump in the night. But when Duke gives her an invitation to his wedding, the dejected Miss Holloway begins to chafe under the terms of a contract forged many years ago. She strikes a new bargain, but unfortunately her creditors are known for their tricks, not treats. Just as Miss Holloway gives up her powers in exchange for a mortal life, a monstrous new threat rears its ugly head. As All Hallows Eve descends, and all Hell breaks loose, Miss Holloway must save the town or die trying… for real this time.

Story #6: (long special episode / season finale) Orb Weaver

Lex Foster had a life once. A home. A boyfriend. Now there is only the road, and her sister, and the fear of the men who are hunting them. As Hannah Foster watched Lex sink deeper into despair, she is certain of only three things: Webby is gone. She cannot help them. They are alone. Elsewhere, an old soldier awakens from a catatonic state. Returned from some unimaginable Hell with a mission. He knows that somewhere, two magical girls require immediate evac… then maybe some coffee.

very important: if you want nightmare time 3, WATCH NIGHTMARE TIME 2. BUY A TICKET TO THE LIVESTREAM. SHOW THAT THERE IS LOVE AND DEMAND AND IT’S WORTH THEIR TIME AND MONEY I AM BEGGING YOU

hatchetfield movie: Cast Party Massacre

The Hatchetfield Community Players. You will never find a cattier troupe of two-faced thespians. But when the blood begins to flow at their latest show’s cast party, they must consider: is there a secret murderer in their midst? And more importantly, who amongst them is a good enough actor to pull off such a performance? Can they set aside their petty squabbles and tangled romances, or is it curtains for this ensemble? Who will survive… the Cast Party Massacre!

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jinuaei · 4 months

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Perception

Yandere!Self aware! Leon Kennedy x Player! Reader pt. 2

To be the person whose deity's eyes are cast upon is a bliss. This is what Leon feels, bliss. The slow descent to madness from being in this unholy situation is overwhelmed by your presence, your guidance and warmth suppressing the fear and stress. Truth be told he has not been paying attention to whatever Marvin is talking about but thats fine, you'll pay attention for him right?

He can feel himself flush, his insides burning hot with embarrassment and horror, though on the outside no splash of red can be seen on his cheeks. How dare he assign work to you when he is the one who is supposed to be doing everything? He is but your humble servant, he is the one who should be doing the task of listening to this boring police man, not you!

Leon quickly snaps back reality and luckily was able to catch where the emblems are located. Noting it down mentally, he descends to the western wing of the station after receiving a knife from Marvin. Progressing through the halls he thinks back to earlier when he was still trying to fight against your influence, he truly was an idiot. But he was still happy that he submitted to you sooner, rather than later.

A sudden crash of glass breaking pierce through his left ear, a groan following after. Leons body freezes up and a strong feeling of panic rattles his brain. He shot the corpse on the head within a second, blowing it up in pieces. The panic still flows through his brain but not the rest of him, on the contrary his whole body is calm but his mind isn't. As he tries to understand why the fear he is feeling is strange he soon realized that… It's not mine. I'm not scared, THEY are.

Hot rage courses through his veins as he glares at the lump of meat underneath him, his fingers itching to grab the leather grip of the knife and stab it. Again. And again. And again. How dare that thing scare you? Nonetheless, Leon can't do anything but just seethe quietly. After a while, he can feel the panic subside and his body jerks towards the stairs, walking cautiously. Nothing much happened after that, other than the licker almost nicking him, it was a very quiet journey. Going back to Marvin, the older man showed him the cctv footage of a girl outside, recognizing her as his companion from earlier. He felt relief upon knowing that she was safe from harm. He was then directed to the 2nd floor of the east wing where he'll be able to get her that way.

As he exits the doorway to the side extrance of the station a shout from below him captured his attention. Looking over the rails, the red jacket highlighted her form, of course it was--

"Claire!"

Joyfully he walks down the stairs, but as soon as he takes a step your warmth is gone from his body. Why…why can't he feel you inside him? Did you abandon him?? No no no… You're still there, he can feel your eyes gazing onto him but his body can only percieve the coldness of the night.

Even with his inner turmoil the show must go on. Without his permission his body moves perfectly, their conversation flowing so smoothly it was almost like following a script. However he knows that whatever is happening is unnatural, the smile he gives to Claire seems robotic, he tries to take control with his body but the only thing that he manages to do was to smile awkwardly, a brief flash of fear in his eyes. Even if Claire did notice she didn't say anything, just talking like normal.

Tuning back to their conversation he can hear himself speak.

"That's good. Any luck with your brother?"

"No, not yet."

He tuned everything out again because he felt disgusted being controlled by something other than you. Soon an explosion interrupts both of them, the sound of groans soon following. They look at each other with understanding and separated ways. Within a second, your warmth encompass his body and fill him with new vigor, the bliss returning as he realizes your departure was only temporary. Then his thoughts became more dark and more desperate.

The feeling of losing you, even temporary was heartbreaking. Him sensing you but not able to touch you was torture. But…he will bear with it, as long as you come back to him. So please, don't ever leave him again.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #puppy leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #re2 leon #yandere #Self aware resident evil #Self aware Leon kennedy x reader #Self aware au #Yandere x reader

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tyuns-world · 3 months

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✾ Growing pains ✾

Bestfriend!Kai x Fem!reader

Genre: Semi-smut

Warnings: degradation

Summary: Kai's long-standing crush on his

childhood best friend takes a steamy turn as he finds

himself wanting more than just innocent hugs.

Word count: 1,109

Second one: https://www.tumblr.com/tyuns-world/743522891684102144/growing-pains-2

Minors DNI

Kai, once just an innocent childhood friend with a crush, transformed when you both entered college. Discussions about dating and other men acted as kindling to ignite his jealousy and possessiveness. How dare you even entertain the thought of granting your heart to another, of sharing kisses, embarking on dates, exchanging longing glances, surrendering your virginity, or allowing any touch that wasn't his?

It started as an innocent crush, with stolen glances, lingering hugs, and a smile that brightened when your texts arrived. But then, Kai couldn't suppress the dirty thoughts that surged whenever you were near. Kai has known for a while that he's into more taboo things when it comes to the bed, but he never thought those thoughts would apply to you. He found himself questioning the length of your dresses, fixating on the cute bows adorning your thigh highs, desiring to prove himself superior by fucking you in front of your 'crushes'. Suddenly, your full, plump lips seemed made for something more than innocent smiles, and the thought of tying you up with the ribbon from your hair became an obsession, a desire for you never to leave him.

The breaking point came when you energetically entered his shared apartment, boasting about finally losing your virginity. Kai, in the midst of a heated Mario Kart race, paused his game, leaving his roommate Taehyun irritated by the interruption. A tangible shift occurred in Kai's demeanor. Something that went noticed by everyone but you. Kai questioned your announcement, leading to an unsettling (for him) conversation in his room.

As you sat on Kai’s well-worn gaming chair at his cluttered desk, surrounded by game controllers and a large screen, you rambled about a guy you liked. Leaving your number and planning to meet at his place, you expected Kai’s usual supportiveness. However, it vanished, replaced by a dark, strange look. Kai's incredulous reaction cast a shadow over the once-familiar surroundings. "You're excited because some guy doesn't have the decency to even take you out on a date and only wants to get in your pants?" he finally questioned, leaving you taken aback by your once-supportive friend's unexpected reaction.

"Well, if he wants me in that way, obviously it'll lead to a relationship, Kai," you retort with a hint of sass. Kai chuckles at your innocent remark. "Sure," he says, rolling his eyes, now purposefully provoking your irritation with his sarcasm. "Kai, what's this," you gesture towards him, "about?" you pout. "I just can't believe how naïve you're being right now," he adds, emphasizing his disbelief with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Naïve? What's naïve about what I just said? He's obviously attracted to me," you assert. Kai takes a long breath before responding, "Yeah, attracted to your body. He just wants to get you in his bed and nothing more." His tone is genuinely starting to irritate you, yet it oddly stirs something else in you. You've never had Kai speak down to you like this, and now you're finding it a bit hot. So, you decide to challenge him, "What if that's what I also want, hm?"

Kai smirks, pushing off the door, slowly walking towards you, now towering over your form on his chair. With a touch of sarcasm, he says, "Is being treated like a whore what you want?" His imposing presence becomes suddenly suffocating, making you feel increasingly hot and wetter by the minute. Now, you stutter, struggling to get words out as you look up at your smirking best friend.

You've always been captivated by Kai. The guy appears as if Aphrodite herself descended to craft him. His well-defined, slender nose with a slight bump, soft, slightly pouty lips, and cheerful eyes that usually hold so much care for you, now gaze at you as if you're pathetic. You always thought your little kindergarten crush on the new boy would go nowhere until you two became inseparable. You concealed your feelings for your friend from then all the way until now. It was easier to find a new boy toy to project your emotions for him onto than to tell him.

"I asked a question, Y/N." Kai leans even further forward, eliminating any space between you two, placing his hands on the desk behind the chair. Noses almost touching, breaths intertwining. His domineering presence makes you involuntarily clench your thighs slightly, and you notice Kai darting his eyes, catching the minuscule movement. The action causes your best friend to raise an eyebrow at you, not in a questioning way but more in a cocky, knowing manner. "I guess that answers my question. Is this turning you on, Y/N?" You open your mouth to protest, but you can't find the words, so you just pathetically nod, your panties growing wetter by the situation. "So, you do like being treated like a whore, hmm? You like being looked down on?" you let out a slight gasp at his words, a shock of pleasure running down your spine.

"Kai," you meant to say as a warning, but it only came out as a whine. "What, Y/N? You want me to touch you now instead of your new boy toy? Are you that easy? What a slut" He places a finger on your thigh, trailing it up slowly. Your thighs clench tighter, growing needier by the minute. Before you could answer, there's a firm knock on the door. "Beomgyu is home, and he brought dinner," Taehyun says through the door. Suddenly, Kai becomes hyper-aware of the fact that you two aren't the only people in his apartment.

Kai stands up straight, his aura shifting back to the shy, cheerful boy you know. He starts awkwardly laughing, then abruptly leaves you there in his room—your face hot, breath heavy, panties wet, and dumbfounded by the new side of your best friend you didn't know he had.

The dinner table becomes the stage for an uneasy (for you) mix of small talk and lingering glances, with an unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Kai, now back to his usual cheerful self, keeps stealing subtle glances your way. Kai’s roommates, unaware of the recent events, contribute normally to the conversation, making the situation even more surreal.

As the dinner unfolds, you find yourself caught between ordinary conversation and the lingering awareness of the unexplored tension with Kai. The constant laughter around the table seems almost out of place, considering the encounter that occurred just moments ago. The evening ends with an unspoken agreement to resume a semblance of normalcy, yet the tension and desire lingers.

#tyuns-world #txt huening kai #tomorrow x together hard thoughts #tomorrow x together smut #txt smut #txt x black reader #txt x reader #huening kai smut #hueningkai hard hours #txt hard thoughts #hueningkai hard thoughts #kai smut #huening kai x reader #x black reader #kai hard thoughts

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beautifulplaceofyouth · 10 days

Text

JJK FF/ROYAL GUARD

CHAPTER TEN | SERIES

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Ch. 7

Ch. 8

Ch. 9

Ch. 10

When you keep bumping into your personal royal guard by accident not knowing he is your guardian angel

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook!fallen angel!royal guard! × fem!reader!virgin!princess

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: 15+

Genre + warnings: Fluff, paranormal romance, historical fanfiction, Kook being cold and mysterious, being his sexy self. Caring and possessive!jk! Really horny towards his princess, being a big seductive tease. Dead bodies - corpses and much blood. JK kills everyone who dares to hurt his princess. MAKES PROMISES TO BE SAFE. The story isn’t real, just my imagination running wild so just enjoy reading!

a/n: Finally a small update, guys! I will stop making excuses and will hope you will not kill me for vanishing like every time I promise coming back sooner but still...yeah. I hope you forgive me.

You were standing by the large window.

The castle’s walls seemed to surround you.

The windows let out on a long stretch of fields leading to the border of the woods.

Since your fallen angel left, it has been three hours since Jungkook disappeared. Three more hours without food; three hours without hearing news or seeing anyone besides the servants running around like little heads in a tornado.

It made you restless.

Your legs started moving before your mind did. The white dress was fluttering behind you while you walked through the corridor.

It’s been three hours.

Three more hours and no updates. Your thoughts were racing and your stomach was growling. But there was nothing you could do, nothing you can say, until Jungkook returns.

As you turned the corner into the hall where the servants and guards resided, you stopped suddenly. Something was wrong.

You frowned.

As you neared the palace exit, a witch-maid stopped you before you can leave further.

“I’m sorry, my queen but the king didn’t allowed you to leave the castle for safety reasons. We still are under attack,” the female servant said apologetically. “Please return to your chambers.”

She tried to take your hands, which you quickly pushed away.

What were they thinking?

That Jungkook would come back in less than ten minutes?

No. Jungkook wouldn’t. Not now.

He is probably dead. Killed by vampires, maybe. Maybe captured in battle and taken prisoner. What if he got hurt?

No. He’d never let a vampire touch him unless…unless…

You ran outside and searched in every part of the grounds. No sign of him anywhere.

Then why the hell haven’t you heard anything yet?!

‘I’m not letting any vampire near my guard,’ you thought fiercely. ‘And if they do get near my angel, I swear to God...’

Looking up, the sun is barely visible. A thin veil of clouds covering half the sky, dark grey.

There was no sign of any vampire in sight.

Where the heck is everyone if there is attack?!

Tears welled in your eyes as you sat down on the ground and leaned your back against the stone wall of the castle’s exterior. There was a small pond a few meters to your side, a beautiful blue lake reflecting the sky above it. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, casting an eery orange light over everything in the vicinity.

Your heart was beating fast, threatening to burst through your ribcage. Tears stinging your eyelids, you felt your cheeks getting wet.

You wiped your tears off angrily. You are being foolish.

Jungkook wouldn't be dead. He can fight for himself but he knows how much you love him and if something happened to him…

Oh god, please don't let something happen to him. He’s strong but he's too young to die. Please God, let him be okay. Let him survive.

Jungkook’s POV

The sun was setting when Jungkook flew over the woods of his territory with his sword in hand, prepared to defend his home.

As he descended closer, he noticed many vampires fighting against the guards on the other end of the forest clearing.

With the sharp edge of his sword ready to strike, he landed heavily between several vampires, sending them flying to different parts of the field.

His presence was enough to scare most of them away, leaving two vampires with their backs turned towards him who weren’t afraid of him whatsoever.

Without hesitation Jungkook lunged forward with his sword and stabbed one of the vampires in the back with all his force.

His opponent fell, unconscious and bleeding, but still alive.

Jungkook ignored him as he jumped to the other vampire, slashing his blade across his throat before landing behind the first one again to stab him in the back.

Two vampires had surrounded Jungkook.

One with blonde hair, the other with red. They charged at him simultaneously.

Jungkook dodged each of them with ease.

Suddenly, the blood lust filled air vanished.

A cold, piercing sound echoed through the forest.

In a matter of seconds, the second vampire was dead. His eyes staring wide open as if asking for help and pain. The red head also fell lifelessly onto the ground.

Blood flowing from his neck, he didn’t have a chance to scream.

Slicing remaining vampires in half, the blood was the only thing left on him when he finally finished. Seeing his guards dead, he could only watch them fall and the bodies turn pale and gray, their skin wrinkling and turning into dust.

The other vampires that were still around looked at him with horror and shock.

They wanted to run. They wanted to kill him.

But they couldn’t move, not a single muscle in their bodies dared to move; not even their hearts.

“You’ve been warned,” he snarled,” Attack what’s mine again, you will be taken as my trophies for all eternity."

The vampires began fleeing after that, screaming in fear and terror.

Jungkook took out the swords he used in the fight, sheathing them neatly once again, before turning to look around.

Death’s scent was everywhere. Blood was smeared everywhere, along with some pieces of flesh scattered throughout the area.

The bodies of his guards lay sprawled all over the ground. Their faces twisted and bloody, covered in dirt.

Jungkook closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Now since the danger was gone, the only thought on his mind was you.

When he opened his eyes, he could already see you.

You were walking out of the forest, your face pale and frightened.

He didn’t need to look at you to know that the blood from these deaths must have affected you greatly. As if sensing him, your eyes met his, a look of complete devastation and sorrow filling their depths.

“Jungkook,” you whispered in fear, looking around the field as though searching for enemy still lurking by but there was no one left alive except for the king himself.

His jaw clenched when he spotted you, knowing you have disobeyed his order for you to stay at the castle. His guards haven’t stopped you from leaving and now you’re here, in the middle of the battlefield which is no place for someone like you.

Looking like an angel in a white dress, Jungkook looked ready to kill again when you slowly approached him.

The wind was playing with his raven hair, dancing through his bangs and causing small droplets of sweat to roll down his body.

He looked like a predator waiting for its prey to come close and bite it.

Your gaze flickered between the corpses laid on the ground, their eyes frozen in fear and pain.

Y/n POV

Seeing your angel in the middle of that made you realize how strong he really is.

The blood was on his armor and even his face scarf. His eyes were the only thing holding you steady as you dared to walk forward.

His chest was rising up and down.

“What are you doing here, princess?” he asked harshly, making your body shiver.

You looked down at the ground, ashamed of yourself.

Why were you so careless? You shouldn’t be here! It’s dangerous. Too dangerous to be out here alone!

How long have you been standing here? Did you hear the screams of vampires earlier? Did you hear them running away?

Did you hear them dying? Did you understand what was happening?

Your hands trembled as you looked at the bodies laying on the floor; lifeless.

“Answer me.”

He didn’t wait for a response, he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Princess. Why are you here? Answer me.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your heart thumping painfully inside your chest.

After a moment, you answered in a weak voice, “I just wanted to go for a little walk. I lost track of time and ended up here.”

His grip on your chin tightened and his lips curved in anger.

“You’re such a liar, love.”

Before you know, he kneels in front of you. Putting his sword on the ground, he takes your hands in his.

“You shouldn’t be here. What you did was dangerous. How can I protect you when you don’t listen to me? You would have been captured on the way here, possibly killed by those bloodsucking monsters!”

“I’m sorry Jungkook. But I just wanted to make sure no one hurt you. I know you can defend yourself just fine but…”

“It doesn’t stop you from worrying. And I appreciate it very much, but you don’t have to do this. I am stronger than these creatures.”

“But you don’t always have to be. You’ll get attacked by them sooner or later, you know. You won't be able to take them down with a sword on your own. Sooner or later, they'll find you.”

“No they won’t. This forest is protected by powerful magic. My kingdom is safe as long I’m here.” He explained, trying to reassure you.

“But not enough to attack this place?” You inquired quietly.

“Someone tipped me off. That’s why they got inside. No one without my magic permission can go through the barrier of this land. Its separates the human world.”

“So they can still be out there and continue to attack,” you said bitterly.

“That’s why I must kill them all.” Jungkook declared, determination in his voice.

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to escape and fall down your cheeks at any moment.

You quickly wiped away any evidence of your weakness before looking into his eyes with a determined look of your own.

Before you can chicken out, you step closer to him when he is back to standing position. His eyes darken when he notices the movement, his nostrils flaring when your scent washes over with the death smell all over the field.

It was like a flower has bloomed in the middle of the grave, filling his whole being with the sweet fragrance of your happiness and life.

You stood on your tiptoes while he stood on his, looking at him intently in the eyes.

His gaze never wavers. Neither does yours.

Neither of you breaks eye contact until finally you pull him towards you, hooking one finger underneath his mask, playing with the seam of the fabric slowly.

“What are you doing, darling?” His voice is husky, full of desire for you even it was wrong in that moment.

How can you touch him like this after he has slaughtered every vampire? He had blood on his hands and corpses still laid all around you so how come you’re not afraid to touch him?

“Making sure you’re not hurt,” you whisper, lifting his mask to reveal a strong jawline who can cut steel and lips that look tempting yet deadly.

He stares back at you, the intensity in his eyes making you want to drown in his eyes forever. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him tightly, his hand caressing your lower back, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin cloth of your dress.

“You’re making this harder for me, princess. You can’t stay here longer. It’s dangerous,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, his hot breath fanning your cold skin as he whispers.

"I don’t care.” You say, closing the gap between your lips and pressing them softly onto his.

At first, he tried to push you away.

But the minute you parted your lips to deepen the kiss, he gave up.

As your tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting each other, you wrapped your arms around his neck while he gripped both sides of your waist.

He lifted you easily in his arm and you placed your legs around his hips, holding on tightly when you felt yourself getting dizzy and lightheaded.

Lifting up into the sky, you almost scream when you realize that he has intended to fly you back to the castle. His wings even through the mist shine with the specks of light that peeked from the clouds.

Not daring to look down because of your fear of heights, some minutes later you brace yourself for landing when he flaps his wings to stop his speed abruptly, causing you to cling onto him like a koala.

When he puts you down gently on your feet, you let out a soft sigh of relief.

Jungkook pulled you in his arms, cradling you close and soothing you as best he could.

“I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t want to startle you like that. I just can’t imagine you walking through that mess. It must have been terrifying.” He whispered tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, melting at the sound of his deep, rumbling voice calling you baby in that loving way of his, feeling warmth blossom inside your chest.

Feeling safe. Protected.

“You need to stay indoors while I go back to finish the job. Someone still can be lurking in the shadows and watching us so we have to take precautions,” he says sternly, grabbing the hilt of his sword and taking a few steps backward as he looked behind him.

“Come back to me safe, please.” You pleaded.

He sighed as he turned around, walking towards you again.

He reached out to caress your cheek once more before giving you a soft smile.

“I promise you.”

You nodded as he took off with a flap of his wings. The air surrounding him seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, the wind caressing his skin like a lover as his figure disappears among the thick mist in the distance.

p.s. All images and gifs are not mine, some of the edits are mine edited but not every picture. All the credit goes to their rightful owners

DO NOT REPOST THIS WORK AS YOUR OWN BECAUSE THIS IS THE ORIGINAL OWNER’S STORY

If you like, please reblog or like the post so I can post the next chapters :)

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #royal guard #virgin princess #Princess Royal #fallen angel #paranormal romance #bangtan boys #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfction #historical romantic fiction #bts fluff

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imaginecentralworld · 9 days

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💎His Diamond💎

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

𓍯 Anthony Bridgerton x female reader

𓍯 Here's PART 1 and PART 2 - Don't skip ahead! Make sure you've caught up on the other chapters. This might be longer then the previous chapters, but trust me, it's totally worth the read!

𓍯 Summary: Lady Y/N, praised by the Queen for her grace and talent, captivates Anthony Bridgerton with her music at a lavish ball. Their emotional connection deepens as they share a heartfelt moment, signaling the beginning of a budding romance.

𓍯 Word Count: 750 (words), 4,174 (characters)

𓍯 This may be the final chapter for this romantic adventure with Anthony Bridgerton, but if we get this post at 200 notes, I'll take that as a sign to continue this story. Do you want to keep the love alive, dear readers?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues across the bustling streets of London, Y/N found herself standing in the grandeur of the royal palace. Nerves fluttered within her as she awaited her audience with the Queen, her mind swirling with questions and anticipation.

When the appointed hour arrived, Y/N was ushered into a lavishly adorned chamber where the Queen sat upon her throne, regal and imposing. With a gracious nod, the Queen beckoned Y/N closer, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Your Majesty," Y/N began, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart, "I am deeply honored by your request for an audience."

The Queen regarded her with a knowing smile before speaking, her words carrying a weight of importance. "Lady Y/N, it has come to my attention that you possess a rare quality—a diamond amidst a sea of gems. Your grace, wit, and the melody of your harp have not gone unnoticed."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she absorbed the Queen's words, feeling a warmth spread through her veins. To be declared the diamond of the season by the highest authority in the land was a validation beyond her wildest dreams.

With a graceful bow, Y/N expressed her gratitude to the Queen, her heart brimming with newfound confidence and purpose.

As the night of the ball descended upon London, the grandeur of the occasion seemed to pale in comparison to the radiance of Lady Y/N. Adorned in an exquisite gown that shimmered like moonlight, she took her place at the harp, fingers dancing across the strings with practiced precision.

As the night wore on and the ballroom swirled with the elegant movements of dancers, Anthony Bridgerton found himself utterly captivated by Lady Y/N. With each graceful note she plucked from the harp, she seemed to cast a spell upon him, drawing him closer with an invisible thread of enchantment.

Their dance carried them across the polished floor, weaving through a sea of swirling skirts and polished shoes. Anthony's gaze never wavered from Y/N, his heart pounding with a fervor he could scarcely contain.

"Lady Y/N," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "since the moment I laid eyes on you, I have been entranced by your beauty, your spirit, your every breath."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of Anthony's words. She had known him for such a long time, yet in his eyes, she saw a depth of emotion that stirred something deep within her soul.

"Anthony," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion, "I... I never imagined..."

But before she could utter another word, Anthony's hand gently cupped her cheek, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"Y/N," he continued, his voice now filled with a raw vulnerability that took her breath away, "in your presence, I have found a light that guides me through the darkest of nights. You are my solace, my sanctuary, my everything."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as she gazed into Anthony's, her heart overflowing with a love she had never known possible.

"Anthony," she whispered, her voice barely a breath, "I feel it too. With every beat of my heart, I feel it too."

And as they stood there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by a love that transcended time and space.

It was then, amidst the whispers of love and the gentle strains of music, that Anthony dropped to one knee, a small heart shaped box nestled in his palm.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you stand by my side, not just tonight, but for all the nights to come?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the man before her, his eyes alight with love and devotion. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch his cheek, her heart overflowing with a joy beyond words.

"Yes, Anthony," she whispered, her voice a melody of love and longing, "yes, a thousand times yes."

And as Anthony slipped the ring onto her finger, sealing their love for all eternity, the world seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the dawn of a new chapter in their lives—a chapter filled with love, laughter, and the promise of forever.

#anthony bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton

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dear-ao3 · 4 months

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a comprehensive list of people (and things) that i have referred to as "my boys" in the last 24 hours:

-the formula 1 mclaren drivers

-the entire cast of the 2015 newsies live production

-9 stuffed axolotls from build a bear

-the maintenance guys at my apartment building

-jay, carlos and harry from disneys descendants (specifically the second one)

-the little forks in my drawer

-the apples i was cooking

-the 2023 formula 1 drivers (including the previously mentioned mclaren ones)

-the cast of netflix's dragons race to the edge

-joe and nicholas from disney's princess diaries 2

#not a tag #from saph #i need to broaden my vocabulary clearly

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thehufflepuffavenger1 · 5 months

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The Grid Angel (2/?) M.V. x reader

Crash My Date 🌹

Max goes on a date with you but it gets crashed by some flirtatious drivers.

--------------------------------------------------

In the aftermath of the intense race weekend, the paddock settled into a brief respite before the next Grand Prix. The atmosphere was a mix of relief and anticipation, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the paddock, Max Verstappen found himself contemplating the next move in this off-track drama.

A quiet evening descended upon the team hospitality area. The clinking of glasses and subdued conversations provided the backdrop for Max's internal debate. He had successfully conquered the race, but a different kind of challenge loomed in his mind—one that involved the person who had become an unexpected focal point of his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Max approached you, who was engrossed in conversation with a few members of the pit crew. The air was charged with a mixture of tension and excitement as he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"Hey, Y/N," Max began, his usual confidence briefly replaced by a hint of nervousness. "I was wondering if you'd want to grab dinner with me tonight. Just the two of us."The pit crew, catching wind of the moment, discreetly observed from a distance, their eyes darting between Max and you. Your gaze met Max's, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Sure, Max. I could use a break from the technical chatter," you replied, a twinkle in your eyes. The pit crew exchanged triumphant glances, silently acknowledging the progress in this off-track saga.As the evening unfolded, Max and you found yourselves in a cozy restaurant away from the bustling paddock. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the conversation flowed effortlessly between discussions of racing strategies, memorable moments from the season, and snippets of personal anecdotes.

Max, usually a man of few words off the track, opened up in ways that surprised even himself. The barriers between driver and engineer dissolved, revealing the shared passion for the sport and the camaraderie that had developed over the course of the season.

Amidst the laughter and exchanged stories, Max mustered the courage to broach a more personal topic. "Hey Y/N- "

Before he could finish, the restaurant door swung open, and in walked a group of drivers, including Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Charles Leclerc. They spotted you and Max, and with mischievous grins, they decided to join the party.

"Hey, Y/N! Max! Mind if we crash your dinner?" Lando called out, his playful demeanor evident.The pit crew, who had already been planning to go to dinner at the same restaurant, sensing the shift in dynamics, exchanged amused glances, realizing that the evening was about to take an unexpected turn.

As Lando, Carlos, and Charles pulled up chairs, they seamlessly transitioned from friendly banter to playful flirting, each vying for your attention with exaggerated tales of their own racing exploits. Max, caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his attempt at a serious confession now veering into the territory of an unexpected comedy.

Despite the unexpected intrusion, the atmosphere remained light-hearted. Laughter echoed through the restaurant, and the lines between competition and camaraderie blurred. As the night progressed, Max found himself not only navigating the complexities of relationships but also the unpredictability of a group of drivers determined to turn a quiet dinner into a lively spectacle.

The Grand Prix season continued its relentless pace, and as the night wound down, the pit crew watched with amusement and satisfaction. The dynamics within the team had taken yet another unexpected turn, leaving them eagerly anticipating the next chapter in this off-track drama.

Tag list:

@itsjustkhaos

#f1 #thehufflepuffavenger1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #lando norris #ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz #itsjustkhaos

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vintagerpg · 6 months

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Azag (2021) is a neat 2-volume rule set and game setting. This is the limited edition from LFOSR. It descends, primarily, from Dungeoneer/Advanced Fighting Fantasy, which makes it a cousin of sorts to Troika. I am tempted to call it the less weird cousin, but that isn’t entirely true — it is just a different sort of weird.

Three attributes. Basic rolling is 2d6, rolling high in opposed contests, rolling low when testing your attributes. Unlike Troika, other dice can be swapped in to simulate greater ease or difficulty — climbing during a blizzard, say, might warrant 2d8 or 2d10 for a Stamina test, depending on the severity of the storm. Combat is more formally structured than Troika, but still pretty fast and loose compared to other games. There are mechanics for social encounters, too, with an ante system that spends Luck, which I really like — it is nice to have a mechanical underpinning for social stuff if you need it. Spellcasting is point-based and the player rolls for success, putting it essentially in line with the skill system. Failure invites calamity. And spellcasters can duel; in this case, casting is an opposed test, and the loser suffers calamity (rather than the cast spell effect — you’re basically dealing with raw arcane energy in a duel). Its a fun, flexible little system!

The world is nice too, cobbled thematically out of early-20th century pulp traditions, particularly Clark Ashton Smith’s stories and Lovecraft’s Dreamlands, both of which feel less explored than say, Conan. It feels a little more restrained and fuzzier at the edges than something like Hyperboria or even DCC. I loooove Logan Stahl’s art, particularly the cover of Volume 2, featuring a snoozing Tsathoggua. In game terms, the world is defined by micro fiction and random tables for encounter seeds and such. These make for an interesting approach that is atmospheric without being overly locked into specific details.

#tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #roleplaying game #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Azag #AFF #Dungeoneer

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sena-shi · 1 year

Text

SAGAU but with Scheming Creator!Reader Imposter AU

PT. 2

Lmao, honestly, I dunno what title to put in this one soooo, just let it stay like that I guess?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You kept running and running; you travel to wherever destination the wind was blowing you to. In spite of the fact that Venti is the Anemo Archon, it seems as though the wind favors you more than it does him. You are grateful for this, as you are able to consistently enjoy a decent night's sleep without getting stabbed.

You get a considerable amount of pleasure out of playing with them, even though it may be rather exhausting. Although your new body is one that is gradually becoming endowed with divine energy, you are nevertheless able to experience tiredness, but it is manageable.

Your next objective should be the land of contracts, which is home to the Geo Archon, given that the entire city of freedom is actively pursuing you at this point.

You can't help but wonder if Zhongli will make an effort to eliminate you as well.

You are always excited by the prospect of encountering something new.

Even though they had been given orders to execute you on the spot, Venti was the one leading his nation in the pursuit of capturing you alive and bringing you back to their city. Why? Maybe for his own personal gain.

Even though he managed to cut your arm with the razor-sharp edge of the wind that he controls, you have a sneaking suspicion that he isn't actually interested in hurting you.

When you locked your disappointed and betrayed gaze with his, you did notice how he flinched and appeared to be considering whether or not to continue.

However, you were also able to observe the frightening gaze that he cast in your direction the moment he first laid eyes on you. It infuriated him to think that someone would break into the holy grounds while dressed as his creator and even wearing his creator's skin.

Even then, he was still fairly alright in the head and was not yet an idiot who would unhesitatingly pounce on someone just because their master commanded them to do so.

In this world, the existence of gold blood is not anything that can be considered extraordinary. Even though it is extremely uncommon, it can still be seen on a few persons who are believed to have been blessed by the creator.

The substance that emerges from your wounds is not blood but rather star glitters. And as if the world were devoid of gravity, it will not drop on the ground but gradually ascend towards the heavens until it is once more reunited with the stars. It was believed that the creator carries the universe within them, and some people may even speculate that you are the universe itself, and that Teyvat is just one of the many lucky worlds that you have created.

It was also said that the creator once shed a tear, and that tear took the form of a dazzling crystal as it fell to the ground. It was brilliant and untainted, much like you are. Even if it is stunning and would like to see it in person, they will never be able to find it in themselves to bring another tear to the eyes of their maker.

They would never stop listening to you soothe them with your gentle voice, especially the vision holders. And when you had finally descended, the Teyvat itself did not rejoice, despite the fact that the Archons and their people did.

You were humming softly, and the stars in the night sky seemed to glow even more intensely in response to the sound of your voice. The wounds that you have sustained have at long last healed. You honestly made sure that all arrows launched towards you would hit your body, and you didn't dodge anything, not even the sharp cut of wind that Venti would inflict upon you, nor the scorching heat of the fire that grazed your skin. You made sure that every arrow will hit your body.

Whatever it is that your children present you, it goes without saying that you will gladly accept it with open arms. Having said that, you do harbor the hope that when the time comes for you to eventually decide to pay them back, they would likewise accept it with open arms.

“Mm. They move exceptionally slow, don't they?”

As you moved to a position on top of the tree in Windrise that was more comfortable for you, your melodious voice echoed throughout the surroundings. The wind encircled your body as though it were trying to reassure you, that they will come soon, and the rustling of the leaves on the tree generated a soothing swishing sound. You moved your feet around gracefully while the wind played with your long hair and made it dance.

As soon as you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards your location, a sly grin spread across your face.

They discovered you seated on a branch of the tree, gazing down at them with a melancholy expression plastered across your face.

Jean, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa— and won’t you look at that? The Anemo Archon himself.

You observed as Venti appeared to take a breath in deeply, as though he was appreciating the wind. Indeed, Venti was reminiscing; it seemed like an eternity since the Windrise had experienced a moment of tranquillity. Because this is the location at which he had his initial encounter with the voice of the creator, it is and will always be for him a place of great serenity. But, as is always the case, it does not feel complete; rather, it gives the impression that something is missing.

But today, he seems to have a feeling that his soul is whole. To the point where he feels like his heart is going to explode from its own fullness. But why is that?

You couldn't help but crack a fake smile when you saw Venti in such a relaxed state. It's probably about time that he finds out the truth about who you truly are. The moment is drawing nearer when he will start seeking you.

However, when that moment arrives, you will make it sure that you are unreachable and far away from their grasps filled with desire.

Desire for you, and only you.

“Imposter.”

You did not speak as you quietly observed them.

“Although we have received the order from her grace to kill you on the spot, we will be lenient and hand you over to our divine creator instead,” Jean said, the disdain in her voice was not really new to you, but you did not really know what to make of it.

But they are aware that the reason is not because they want the divine creator to settle their differences with you personally. Something itches well down in the depths of their hearts, but they are unable to identify the feeling that they are experiencing. Is it because your appearance is so similar to their creator? However, considering that you are an imposter, this would make complete sense, but still— they can’t—

Their visions trembled as if they were resonating with the bearer's genuine emotions and attempting to draw closer to you, but none of them saw this.

On the spur of the moment, the wind appeared to be suffocating. The abrupt change in the wind caused Venti's eyes to widen, and the others' facial expressions toward you became increasingly hostile as they frowned.

The wind is going mad with rage, seeking retribution for the fact that it has angered their creator; it wants to suffocate them, it wants to—

"The Divine Creator..." You mumbled.

Then it stopped.

The tension was finally broken by a gentle voice, and the wind quickly returned to its previous state.

“Are you—" You were on the verge of laughing at the amount of garbage you had heard, but you managed to force it all back down.

Your looked down at your hands resting on your lap as you spoke quietly, “Are you replacing me now?”

“Ha! And here we are offering you the opportunity to maybe continue your life under her grace, and you had the nerve to imply that you are going to be replaced?"

"How can we worship you as our creator when you were never our creator? An imposter being delusional, I see."

When they saw the pained smile that formed on your face, their hearts all ached. But none of them paid attention to it. Perhaps they are experiencing these emotions because, ever since their creator descended, her grace has never given them a glance that is so heart-wrenching that they feel as though they will suffocate from the amount of guilt that it causes. Their divine creator, who is seated on the throne, experiences constant joy without any of the slightest bit of suffering, as she ought to in that position.

“I see…” You whispered to yourself as you slowly released a trembling breath.

Is that all there was to it then? When they have reaped all of the benefits that your grace and blessings have to offer, they will simply find someone else to fill your place? Even more so, with a face that look exactly like yours?

You couldn't help but laugh on the inside as you played out your part as a discarded creator, someone who was simply substituted for another.

You are quite interested in performing the final play that you have written, but not just yet. It is still necessary for you to invite the other nations to participate in the game with you all. At this very moment, they are most likely looking for you as well. However, waiting can be extremely taxing, so instead of waiting for anything to happen, why don't you go out and get it for yourself?

You just like seeking death, don’t you? Your actual life was comprised solely of boring and unimpressive things. Nothing will ever make you happy or give you the satisfaction you crave.

"However, I am not attempting to impersonate your Divine Creator. I only wish to be left alone to live my life in peace, can I not stay in this world?" You uttered your words in a soft tone as you kept your gaze fixed onto them with a kind expression.

Your ears suddenly filled with the sound of a low chuckle, but it was not one of amusement or any other emotion. It seemed as if they were making a mockery of you when you said that.

“Not imitating, I see.”

At this point, you are feeling exhausted, and it does not appear like they will allow you to live in peace within the world that you have created.

"If that is what you want, then I will remove myself from your line of sight,”

You spoke as the wind wafted closer to you and your surroundings.

You fixated your gaze on each of them, attempting to make a mental note of the surprised emotions on their faces.

But Venti. Oh, your poor Venti. He must have realized everything by now.

It is possible that you will run into him again sooner than you had originally anticipated since he appears to be normal enough and is not acting like a crazed dog that is barking for the person they call their true divine creator.

"However, I will not allow myself to be handed to your creator.”

The previously pleasant voice that greeted them when they arrived had become ice-cold and emotionless in its tone by the time it was their turn to speak.

“You—!” Jean let out a yell while she stood there with her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Wait—!” Venti yelled and made an effort to approach you, but even his own wind repelled him and kept him at a distance.

And just like that, you were gone, like a breath of fresh air.

Venti was only successful in grabbing a handful of wind from the location where you had been previously. The feeling of completeness that he had experienced once more before had begun to dissipate completely. At this given moment, the wind in Windrise is behaving exactly the same as it does on any other day.

It is true that there is peacefulness.

But once again, there is something missing.

Venti collapsed to the ground, and he experienced a sudden weakening in his knees. When you spoke to him with a harsh tone in your voice, he was not able to bear it. It seemed as though the absence of you caused him unexplainable anguish in his heart.

It was much like those other times, whenever you give words of comfort to him. It seems as though he is only a few steps away from you but is unable to approach you. However, now that he had the opportunity to touch you, he let his ignorance get the best of him, and as a result, he lost everything.

Truly, it hurts more when you yearn for something that you cannot have anymore.

Far away from the Windrise and away from the city of freedom, you, who stood serenely on top of the Guyun Stone Forest, patiently waited for the new danger that is about to come.

Your beautiful appearance was not diminished in any way by the tattered dress that you were wearing. You almost look like the loving, benevolent, and holy creator that you are. Except for the fact that there was a look of amusement on your face at the same time. Like some divine being that was taking joy in watching their creations rushing up to worship at their feet.

The ground violently shook, and everything that Teyvat has to offer their one and only creator is ready to protect you from any potential threat that may appear anytime soon.

And indeed, he did not fail to live up to your expectations; there behind you stood the Geo Archon himself, scrutinizing every aspect of your being. His glare was aggressive, and it appeared very much as though he wanted to force you into going to the ocean floor with Osial, where his divine creator won't be able to look at such a revolting imposter as you.

You slowly turned your head to look at him with the same tenderness and warmth in your eyes that is currently the reflection of the night skies above you. You appeared to be delighted to see him by the way you stared at him, but then you pretended to be astonished by the way he was glaring at you. You blinked your eyes pretty slowly, giving the impression that you were really hurt and surprised by the way he welcomed your return.

His glare wavered, and he began to relax his stance, as though he were thinking back to the days when his divine creator had not yet descended to their world. Those moments when you would only communicate with him from above.

Having witnessed his behavior, you almost found yourself amused at how soft Zhongli can get when it comes to you.

Good child, you didn't disappoint me.

One wonders what sort of surprises he would bring.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

;; peh, why beta read when you can just drop a bunch of sentences and post like boom boom bakudan

#imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau brainrot #yandere sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin archon #creator!reader #scheming!reader #grab the lore and put it on a cheese grater #sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin cult au

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witchofthesouls · 5 months

Text

AHHHH, I KEEP THINKING ABOUT IT!

Okay, I think the handling TFP/Aligned Orion Pax was weakened by the background inconsistencies that were supposed to ground his personality and motivations.

And that's why Orion Pax can come off as an asshole, weirdly tone deaf, or very naive, yet deep inside the revolution as a competent head.

It's as if the writers took so many cool things to prop up the guy, but let it compete with "How Orion Pax and Megatronus were Different" and made a mess.

And, depending on your view, it either was half-heartedly addressed or done masterfully.

Saltysaltdog did a really great analysis on Megatron's feelings of betrayal and humiliation of letting Orion Pax so close to everything, and it's found here: click

The biggest gripe I have with the whole thing with the characterization of Orion Pax is twofold: 1) the writers didn't leverage Orion Pax's unique, and let's be honest, precarious position, and 2) didn't expand deeper the fundamental differences that essentially broke Orion Pax and Megatron apart and started that catastrophic civil war.

The setup is there. Megatron and Orion Pax are distorted mirrors of each other. The major differences are driven by what was socially appropriate for them to consider as pathways.

The Cybertron that came to was deep in the grips of a well-established and well-entrenched caste system. In that kind of society, it isn't just money that decrees social mobility. The very hierarchy of the society is driven by cultural and religious norms on the "worthiness" of each group at various set levels. And from that "worth," it not only dictates the rights of the members in a caste but decrees the appropriate behavior and outlets as well as dictates how relationships between members of different castes are maintained.

So Orion Pax is a giant "FUCK YOU" to all of that. His very presence would have pissed off so many parties that isn't funny.

As in, I honestly believe he's alive because his initial seclusion from civilization had given him key skills and behaviors that saved his ass and Alpha Trion's personal care.

Yes. There would have been bullying. Yes. There would be complete resentment and hatred. Yes. There would have been social orstracism from his own colleagues.

Even individuals who are lumped with him as "caste climbers" or just sympathetic/pitying would have stayed away by the dangers of their own reputation being tainted.

"You're nothing but a bauble and an ornament. Merely a prized pet for Alpha Trion. One day, he'll lose interest, and that day, you'll go back to where you belong."

Orion Pax flaunted all the appropriate ways of inclusion to their occupation and way of life. He doesn't have a frame or a specialized ability that's related to information. He has no achievements, no accolades, and doesn't even have a sponsored education from a prestigious university or any useful connections.

Orion Pax is both an outsider and a representative. He needs to be extremely mindful of everything: his words, his tone, his body language, his own work... are all subject to scrutiny.

(And it either shows his sneakiness that he's able to shake off all eyes when he descends down to the gladiatorial game, his ability to lie by omission or obfuscation, or his colleagues relief with him out of sight.)

That very grey area would have left deep impressions on him. It would explain his passiveness, the perceptiveness, the way he speaks, and the careful plans he quietly does by the sides in a need-to-know basis.

Violence can come in many forms. And in a world where your worth is tied to your caste, then Orion Pax should be deeply familiar with the various ways it can be soft, sweet, and utterly insidious. A velvet wrapped steel glove. A dagger from the shadows. A poisonous treat. A deal of bad faith. A betrayl from a kind face.

Remember: Ratchet went through the proper channels and with the appropriate frame to match his function. Of course, he has that shield against so many grievances and injustices as well as many prejudices that color his perceptions. Look at the differences in how he recounts the brotherhood between Megatronus and Orion Pax and the outcome of before the High Council.

Orion is both given privileges that Megatron and his cohort wouldn't have, but it's also a noose around his neck. He is severely handicapped by Alpha Trion's deliberate meddling to keep the reincarnated Thirteen/the Matrix's newest Prime nearby and simultaneously well-informed and in the dark.

Unlike the miner-turned-gladiator, Orion doesn't have that option for bloodsport. His too low-caste for the avenues of security by the high-caste, but too high-caste to partake in the low-caste culture. It's acceptable for them to be physically violent, to be in bloodsport, to solve their grievances with their fists.

It's vastly different to the complete ruination of an individual's life that Orion got thrown into the deep end: reputation, finances, personal and professional relationships, involuntary reformat... The power games of the higher-castes are completely different ball-game.

He's stuck with his own thoughts because there's no way he can voice doubts to Alpha Trion (the mech who gave him such a position, advice, and unrestricted access to the archives) nor to his colleagues (who either hate his guts or would sell the information because information is power and the Hall of Records is a major point of power).

Look at the people he attaches himself to. They're rather straightforward: Megatronus, Ratchet, Jazz, Bumblebee, Arcee...

He's drawn to their ease yet still holds himself in a certain degree of formality because that's how he managed to survive in a snake pit. And that's too deeply ingrained into him at that point. People read that negatively. Megatron once saw that but didn't understand what it truly meant. Megatron saw his willingness to give up so much and his privileges, but he didn't understand the extent of the scars that Orion mentally and emotionally has.

Ratchet would be one of the few that really perceives that. The medic may not fully understands but he keeps trying, and the war eventually breaks down the barriers.

It would make so much sense about his strange notions, why he doesn't allow Megatron explore "his" world, why he keeps everything to himself, why he relatively comfortable with others outside his "caste."

This guy would literally ruminate the entire work day (both legal and subversive) until he fell asleep after rechecking the locks 27365837 times so an assassin or unfortunate "pet" didn't come into his room.

This could explain why he basically highjacked the damn meeting. Orion Pax has unrestricted access to many records. He knows his history. He can read between the lines. His A-game was on, especially in this endeavor.

Was it a well-intentioned plan to draw fire to himself because he had Alpha Trion’s strange degree of protection compared to the others? Was it panic because he knew all the ways to kill a person until death was mercy? Was it Plan 27-b because he thought all the ways it could go wrong? Was it his well-honed instinct demanding him to divert and pacify, but careful with the words (soft and fluttering with hidden danger with what is unsaid) to keep avenues open because to have the Primacy bestowed upon them would be an honor and completely legitimized the movement? Did he see the noose closing around Megatron and couldn't bear witness to have it strangle him, too?!

There's so much going on here. It all hinges on cultural absorption and clashes and the meddling by an ancient fart of an oracle, and it's just so tragically fascinating.

#transformers #transformer prime #tfp #orion pax #alpha trion #megatron #ratchet #cybertronian culture #maccadam #my thoughts #analysis #the shit that could have been explored #i got some weird feelings about the golden age and alpha trion's role in all of it

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wardenparker · 5 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 9

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: 10.6k 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.* Family drama (past), revelations, family estrangement, the truth will always come out. Summary: The revelation of your grandfather's identity is not the only secret that will unfurl itself into your life. Notes: This week has just been another shitshow of utter chaos, but it is LOVELY chaos, so I hope you enjoy the chapter my darlings! As always, sorry for any errors I miss. I’m just an exhausted little nerd doing my best 🧡

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

"How are you here?" And, more over, how are you real? But one thing at a time. The fuzzy edges of the memory that washed up on the shores of your dreams are still nudging at your waking mind.

He sighs sadly, his eyes shuttering slightly as he reflects on what has brought him back to you. “It was only because of your abuela’s sacrifice, muñequita. It was the only way to lift the spell. She loved you more than anything else on this earth.”

"I don't understand." Whether it's the fog of waking up so suddenly or the confusion of memories and dreams and daydreams all slamming together in your mind, you can't quite tell.

“I am your grandfather.” He tells you with a charming grin. “Some call me ‘The Thief’, since it has been years since anyone but the people in this house have known my name. But you always called me ‘Yayo’.” He bows slightly as he tells you his real name.

“Holy shit.” Max hisses, his eyes wide as he stares at his sire. The pieces are clicking into place, but even he is shocked at how close you really are to the man who had created him, who had saved him when he had been destroyed. How was it possible? A vampire cannot have children, at least that’s what he’s been told.

"But...I made you up." That's the rational half of your brain. The part of you that knows dreams aren't real, that fantasies can't come true through manifestation alone, and that love is a feeling rather than a universal force. But the other half of you? The witch who was born of witches who once conjured fire with nothing more than a thought and bare hands? That part of you knows he's telling the truth. "Didn't I?"

Again, another sigh. A habit he had picked up from his late soulmate. The human-ifcation as she liked to call it. “No. When your mother took you away, banned us from seeing you, the only way I could visit was through your dreams. Apparently the spell she cast had also made you forget about myself and your grandmother.”

Max is tense beside you and you cover his hand with one of yours, squeezing it as if it might reassure him that everything is okay. You can feel that intrinsically even if the logic for how you know that escapes you. "I think..." Like a rapid-fire collage on the inside of your mind, flashing of visits with your grandparents burn to life as very real memories instead of gauzy wisps of dreams. "I—um—" Looking between the two men, realizing that you're in bed and in your pajamas, you look back to Yayo with wide eyes. "You're not a witch, are you?" You ask, needing confirmation more than you actually need to be told. The memories are there in your mind, but they aren't clear.

Chuckling quietly, he shakes his head. “No witch.” He promises, letting his razor-sharp fangs descend from his gums to show off his true nature. “A vampire who was soulmates with a witch, just as my protégé.” His eyes shift to Max. “Now you understand why you were brought back.”

The next puzzle piece clicks into place in your mind and you gasp, looking over to Max with wide eyes. "Are you— I mean— did he?—" You sputter inelegantly, running out of breath all at once as you try to stutter out a coherent question. " Your sire is my...grandfather?"

“I didn’t know.” Max shakes his head in awe, apparently nearly speechless considering he knows that this vampire is older than any other that he knows.

"There is much to say." Yayo's eyes move between you on the bed, coming back to you after a few seconds and holding your gaze. Not in an entrancing way, but with the soft eyes of a doting grandfather. "We can talk anywhere you like, muñequita. But when you were a little girl you were very grouchy before breakfast."

"I should at least get dressed, I guess." For the second morning in a row, you are starting out disoriented and with an unexpected visitor. But this time you're not afraid. Curious? Oh yes. But there is none of that deep, intrinsic fear that there was yesterday.

“Then I shall meet you in the dining room.” Yayo bows and turns to disappear through the door like a ghost, completely silent as he moves.

It's icy cold around you when he sweeps out of the room without a sound, and you turn to Max in wide-eyed confusion. "Um..." you huff, shaking your head. You want to ask how he had possibly gotten in the house, but that seems like a moot point by now. "Good morning?"

“It seems like there is a lot going on.” He snorts slightly, reaching out to you to stroke your arms lightly. “How are you feeling?”

"Weird." The sense of safety that you have with Max is absolute, and you nearly collapse into his side to beg silently for more of his comforting touch. "I dreamt about him again last night. And it was a dream. But it felt so real..."

“I don’t think it was a dream, Queenie.” Max murmurs softly. “I think your grandfather made you relive a memory. He was here, all night.”

"He was here?" When your head pops up again you want to harrumph about having two vampires sit around watching you sleep, but as soon as you think it you think again about how safe that is. And how no one else in the world would probably feel as safe around creatures who drink blood to survive as you do. "Max?" Your head tilts slightly and you find his eyes. "Have you ever known your sire to lie?"

“Never lie.” Max tells you. “Sometimes he doesn’t tell you everything. He’s…enigmatic, but not a liar.”

"I remember my parents fighting," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Max's shoulder before you push back the blankets to crawl out of bed and find some clean clothes. You're doubly glad that you took a bath last night. It had helped you relax and be sleepy for bed, but now it takes away the need to wash this morning. "That's what I dreamt about. My parents fighting with my grandparents." Right before you disappear around the corner into your dressing room, you turn to look at him with sadness in your eyes. "About me."

“Families sometimes don’t agree.” Max can understand that you are hurt by that. Zipping over to you to wrap his arms around you. “But you can find out why now. And….” He bites his lip. “You have family still.”

"One person." Though you nod against his chest, knowing that he's right as you hug him back. "It was too much to let me know both of them, I guess."

“He said something about a sacrifice.” Max doesn’t want to cloud your opinion before you talk to his sire. “I know that it was Cookie’s choice to stop taking his blood. He did not agree, but he could not stop her.”

"Allison said Cookie...abuela was trying to break some kind of spell. They were working together trying to combine their magic to make it happen but they couldn't." Realizing that you were technically brought here under false pretenses is odd, but you can't find it in yourself to be upset about it. Apparently, this situation is far more complicated than you knew.

“Then we should hear the unfiltered story from his mouth.” Max encourages, giving you a small smile as he reels from the developments of the morning.

"I guess that is what breakfast will be for." Looking at your closet, you look back to Max with determination. "You said your sire was a big deal in the vampire world, right? I should...try to dress up? Dress respectfully?"

“Dress in whatever makes you feel good.” He arches a brow. “This is your grandfather, important vampire or not. Your imaginary friend isn’t so imaginary anymore.”

"What's your favourite color?" It seems like a silly question, but in the face of so much chaos you're looking for an anchor. Something solid to hold onto in the storm. And if that thing is as simple as wearing your soulmate's favorite color, then that's what you're going to do.

Max smirks slightly as he leans against the door frame. “Blood red.” He teases for a second before he shakes his head. “No— actually, yellow is my favorite color.”

"Okay." Yellow...you have a few yellow things somewhere...you can definitely find something, at least. For now you reach up to hug Max as tightly as you can and exhale an unsteady breath. "I'm just going to get dressed and then I'll meet you downstairs?

“Of course, sweetheart.” Max understands that you might need a few moments to yourself. He nods and then disappears out of the doorway to dress himself and go down to the dining room.

The photograph of you and your mother that stares back from your vanity mirror is a tantalizing route back to those memories that still escape you. You find yourself staring at it for longer than you should, tracing the curve of your mother's face and seeing the way that Yayo's curls somehow had ended up on her head. How had you never noticed? Or were those curls just something you found so comforting that it simply hadn't occurred to you not to give them to your imaginary friend? But he isn't imaginary at all. He's so very real. And he is your family.

Sighing, you dig into your dresser until you come out with an amber colored cable knit sweater and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. The comfortable ones that Derek hated because he said they weren't putting your best foot forward. Fuck that. You've always loved these pants. If comfort is a way to take back power, you are absolutely here for it.

Max is dressed in a flash, downstairs and waiting for you. His eyes fixed on the stairs as he tries not to ask his sire any questions that you might wish to know the answer to while he waits.

As quickly as you can, you head downstairs, only to find both men standing at the bottom of the grand staircase instead of sitting in the dining room as you expected them. "Waiting for me?" You ask, knowing the answer but feeling unduly self-conscious about it all of a sudden.

"I would wait to eternity for you muñequita." He promises, soft affection glowing as he steps forward and offers you his arm. While he understands the modern customs and traditions, he still prefers his way of being. Set in his ways about some things, and the opportunity to touch you is still a delightful experience. "Your breakfast is nearly ready, and I believe the tea service is already on the table."

“Mrs. Taylor is wonderful.” And you’ll never downplay that, especially not now that you realize your housekeeper has been his housekeeper for a very long time. Taking his arm instead of Max’s feels strange only in that you aren’t used to Yayo being solid. In all the thoughts you have of him, he is a figment of your imagination and not much more. Realizing that there is more at stake here is a lot to process.

“She is.” He won’t deny that in the least. “She took care of your mother when she was a child as well.” Since she had been with them for so long, Mrs. Taylor had known the entire history of the family.

“Mom…grew up here?” It’s only a few steps into the dining room, and Yayo pulls out your chair for you before sitting down on your right. Max takes the seat on your left and you note quietly that there are only three places set. Allison and Eddie must have gone back to Allison’s house last night after their date.

Settling beside you, his eyes are focused on you. “This house was built in 1852.” He explains. “When I found out that your grandmother was pregnant with your mother. She gave birth to her in this house.”

“What?” The math doesn’t add up. Not at all. The woman you remember — the woman you have photos of — was maybe in her mid-30s at the oldest. “Mom was…over a hundred and fifty years old?”

“Yes.” He knows it’s nearly impossible to imagine, but it’s true. “Your mother was half vampire, half witch and like me, nearly did not age.”

“Will you…” you sigh softly, and pour yourself a cup of tea with shaky hands. “Will you start at the beginning, Yayo? Please?”

Again, there is a carafe of blood, and he pours himself and Max a cup before he pick up the elegant tea cup and smiles slightly, remembering how he had bought this set for his Cookie. “When I was a young man, I was a thief.” He tells you, wanting you to understand the background of your family line. “The best. I was never caught save for one time.” He flashes a grin. “When I stole from the Devil.”

The Devil. For the moment — and for as unbelievable as the rest of the story seems to already be — you suspend your disbelief and nod. “How long ago was this?” You ask, trying politely to get a handle on exactly how old Yayo is.

"201 B.C." He answers with a small smirk. "I am quite a bit older than most would guess." Even Max's eyes widen dramatically, unaware that his sire was such an ancient vampire. "As punishment for my sin, the Devil decided to make an example of me." He takes a sip of his blood and pauses dramatically. "I was the first of our kind. The undead. The first vampire to walk the earth."

When you glance at Max it’s very clear that your soulmate fully believes the story that is being told, and you would never take Max for easily misled. More over, he knows a hell of a lot more about vampires than you do. So you sip your tea in contemplative silence for a long moment before sitting back in your chair again. “And you met Ms. Brown—Cookie—that is…abuela…in the 18th century?” The timeline here is mind boggling, but you’re trying your best here. To understand it all. To believe it.

“Part of my punishment was that I would walk without my soulmate for over a thousand years.” He snorts elegantly. “Apparently a few hundred extra years is no matter to the Devil.”

“And abuela was born a witch?” The genetic differences between witches and humans had dwindled over time to become very subtle. The powers they manifested were less powerful, too, and you regret now that you never listened more deeply to your father when he tried to tell you about your ancestors. Your mother’s intense desire to live a human life had overruled that sort of talk as you got older.

“Yes.” The proud gleam to the ancient vampire’s eyes reappears and he caresses the edge of the teacup. “Cookie was formidable. A powerful witch. When we met, she had come to the colonies because her own coven had cast her out. Scared of the power she possessed.”

“She was remarkable.” Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway from the pantry with a plate of fixed breakfast for you, as the only warm blooded person at the table, and a bowl each of fruit and raw nuts for the vampires to pick at with their blood. “Good morning, sir. I am glad to see you have decided to leave the tower.”

“So that’s where you’ve been camped out.” Max snorts, smirking at his sire. “Dramatic as always.”

“Is that why Renee looked like she’d seen a ghost when I asked her about the locked room?” You thank Mrs. Taylor softly, as always, and inhale the beautiful scent of the last pieces of quiche from yesterday — one of your favourite leftovers that you had begged her to save — alongside a fresh salad, a few slices of bacon, and a warm croissant. She has outdone herself, as always.

Your grandfather clicks his tongue at Max, slightly annoyed at making it sound dramatic, even though it is. "I had a room next to Cookie's spell room. It was so that I would not bother her, but I could rest easier closer to her." He frowns slightly, still getting used to talking about his beloved in the past tense.

“Max is going to help me turn the teahouse into a little spell cottage.” The urge to be excited and proud for something you’re sharing with your soulmate is overwhelming, simply because after yesterday morning — and so many years before — there was not much to be excited about. And certainly no family to share anything with.

He smiles, a flash of fang and white teeth. No longer hiding them now that he's not just in your subconscious. "That is wonderful, muñequita." He agrees. "Every witch would have her own space. Your mother preferred her room, no other would do, when she would work on her magic."

“Her room was the one with the silver wallpaper, wasn’t it?” Somehow there is no doubt of that in your mind. The powerful feeling of belonging and comfort you had gotten from it when you first walked through the house now makes perfect sense, and you’re glad that you didn’t choose it for yourself. From now on you can go and sit in your mother’s room when you miss her, and that almost brings happy tears to your eyes. Because gods above, you have missed her so much.

"It was." He smiles as he realizes you must have felt a connection to the room. A presence. Since his daughter had passed, he had hoped that the feeling of her spirit - her early spirit - would remain. It and you were all he had left of his beloved child. "The portait hanging above the bed is your mother, nieta. She was twenty when it was painted."

“Abuela kept it close.” It isn’t even a question. You understand completely that that is how it ended up in the bedroom that once belonged to your grandmother and is now yours. “Was it for when she came out? Or…did Mom ever have anyone? Before Dad, I mean?” It’s a delicate topic but an important one, and something pulling at the back of your mind pushes you to ask it now instead of waiting.

“Your mother had a soulmate that she was with.” The memory makes him frown, his brow furrowing slightly.

“She did?” That is startling news, considering she always told you that she didn’t have one. But apparently there are a great many things your mother didn’t tell you.

"It is probably my greatest regret." There is a dramatic sigh for show from the vampire and he sets his tea cup down. "I, like any parent, made mistakes, muñequita." He admits. "Like Cookie and I, we believed that your mother was destined to be mated with a vampire. By the time she had come - which was a miracle - there was a large coven of witches and vampires. Despite my best efforts, there had been tensions between the two groups." He bites his lip. "Our nature, our bloodlust, craves the blood of a witch more than anything else." He reveals. "It's nearly ambrosia to a vampire and because of that, there had been some hard feelings among the covens because of our...less than responsible vampires."

"You believed she was meant to be mated with a vampire even though there were objections to vampire and witches interacting?" It isn't a judgement call, you're just trying to understand. Apparently your little suburban family with typical holiday dinners (and atypical holidays) was far less typical than you thought. "And Mom...didn't want that?"

"Vampire and witches are stronger together." He tells you quietly. "Especially for us. My line. We were the only ones capable of having children. Of creating a lineage." He sighs again. "She was in love with him. Emanuel was a smart, talented young man. Her mother and I were proud when we discovered they had matching marks."

"So what happened, then? Did something happen to him?" It must have, otherwise your father would have been a very different man. And Yayo wouldn't look so terribly sad.

“I made the mistake of changing him.” He murmurs quietly. “I didn’t do it without his permission. He wanted to become a vampire.” It’s almost as if he was imploring you to believe him.

"But you didn't talk to Mom first?" Though it is only a guess, it is a solid one, and you put your fork down for a moment. "It was a long time ago, Yayo. A very long time ago. I'm not judging you. I just want to understand what happened to my family."

“No, I did not talk to your mother.” He had hoped it would be seen as a gesture on Emanuel’s part. His acceptance of the family he had joined. “Unfortunately, your mother’s blood called to him. He tried to drink from her and she—” he winces. “She destroyed her soulmate.”

“Gods.” If you had been holding anything you would have dropped it instantly. Your mother killed her soulmate over bloodlust. That makes you stammer for a moment before all you can do is reach for Max’s hand and try not to shudder at the idea. You know Max would never hurt you. He’s proved that. He’s your port in the storm. “I’m so sorry, Yayo.”

"She blamed me. As she should have." He watches as you reach for Max and it soothes him in a way that he would never be able to explain. Your soulmate is a vampire and yet you are still drawn to him, comforted by him. "I had not yet learned how to bring one of my protégé back, so he was lost to us."

“Thank you for learning.” Your hand tightens around Max’s subtly, fingers flexing and keeping his grip. “For…making sure Max was here for me when I needed him.”

"Of course, muñequita." He nods his head seriously. "You should have met him years before and I cannot fix the past, but I could make sure you would meet him."

“And you have no idea how much that means to me.” He has no idea of what you’ve been through. What has gone on in your life between childhood and now. But at least you can say to his face that you’re grateful.

“I spent many years trying to find the way to fix my mistakes.” He murmurs quietly. “I am afforded the luxury of time, so I decided to put it to good use.”

“They did raise me a witch.” It’s the most reassurance you can give him, since your parents did not give you even a hint of the reality of vampires in the world. They had taught you magic, yes, but you had never had a real talent for spell work. “I’m sorry to ask you all of these things all at once. I just…I guess I don’t understand why we haven’t been in contact since the accident?” Allison had told you something about helping Cookie break a powerful spell, and that that was why she chose to stop drinking Yayo’s blood. But you still don’t quite understand.

“Your mother, while she wished to be human,” he sighs again. “Was a powerful witch. Some of her own talents far surpassing even her mother’s.” He picks up a few of the nuts and rolls them around in his hand. “There is a spell, a protective barrier, that would keep anyone away until the blood price has been paid.” He stares at you solemnly. “Death.”

“She really didn’t want me involved in all of this…” Something which is both stunning and rather appalling to you, considering coming to Newport might truly have saved your life. Who knows what might have happened to you if you had had to live in your car in Tennessee. Knowing that your sweet, steadfast mother was angry enough with her parents to separate you for life is daunting.

“Your mother…” he doesn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and especially of the daughter that he had loved for centuries and will continue to love until he is destroyed. “Was very much human in the fact that she was not infallible, none of us are.” He doesn’t wish for you to hold a grudge against her, even as he tries to explain things. “I pushed too hard and tried to see you again after that last memory I showed you. That was when she cast the spell.”

“A spell that kept you and abuela away…and made me think that I made you up?” That is a remarkably impressive spell, you will admit it freely. Your mother’s abilities must have been far greater than you could ever have dreamed.

“Yes.” He bites his lip. “It was one that took us a long time to even figure out what she had used and even longer to discover the key to breaking it.” He reaches out and touches your hand. “Your abuela left you a letter, in case these truths ever came to light.”

“I would like to read it. If it’s not too much trouble.” A few of Cookie’s own words might be wonderful, if you’re honest. Though you do already feel the fullness in your mind off memories beginning to resettle now that you realize they are memories and not only your imagination. “It…doesn’t have to do this moment. It will take some time to process all of this.”

“Whenever you feel like it.” He promises, smiling indulgently at you. “I will have them placed in your room for when you are ready.”

“I’m…” There isn’t technically any reason to feel this way, but you still squeeze his cold hand gently. “I’m sorry we were apart so long.”

“Muñequita, do not feel guilty.” He chides softly, aware of that expression on your face. “It is I who am the guilty one. You have suffered for so long because I could not find you. I could not reach you.”

“It isn’t your fault that I was in a bad situation. Or Max’s either.” Acutely aware that Max views himself as responsible for that entire situation because he had been expelled that night, you won’t hear of it for even a second. “It seems like this is a new beginning for all of us.” New, aside from the specter of your ex-boyfriend that now hangs over Newport.

“Though I hear you had a visitor yesterday.” Your grandfather’s youthfully middle aged face drops unhappily and his eyes darken fiercely.

“I—” Mistaking his displeasure for anger directed at you, your eyes stop to the table instantly. “He was not invited,” you defend immediately, not wanting anyone to get in trouble on your account.

He pauses when he realizes that you think he is upset at you. “Yes, this…Derek will be dealt with.” He promises you. “Although I do not understand why you will not let your soulmate kill him.”

“Because I don’t believe that murder is ever the answer. Regardless of the question.” Suffering, pain, death — none of it. You’ve lived several lifetimes of all that hurt and you would be happy to never have another second of it near you.

“Kind and empathetic.” He hums, not displeased with the idea at all. “I will promise you this—” he taps your hand gently. “If he harms you again, nothing on this earth or in hell will protect him from me.” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. A pact to repay every hurt he has ever bestowed upon you tenfold.

“I will say if I am hurt or not.” That is the bargain you will make. To make your grandfather feel as though the door is open, though you need intend to go through it.

His eyes narrow for a moment in contemplation and he nods. “Agreeable.” He decides.

******

For the rest of your meal, he answers your questions, never shying away from the answers and it surprises Max. His sire has always been elusive at times, and yet, he is very succinct with you. Perhaps it is because of the want to keep you close.

After he leaves you, your grandfather goes back to the tower. The locked room beyond Cookie’s potion room now opened. The mahogany box retrieved from a shelf and his fingers brush over the inlaid gold. The letters are inside. Lovingly preserved for you. His soulmate had taken to writing you at least once a week since deciding that she would sacrifice herself to break what she viewed as a curse. Her thoughts, hopes, memories all immortalized in ink, her familiar script beautiful as he opens the box and lifts a letter to his nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume. “You would have loved her, Cookie.” He murmurs sadly. “She’s stronger than all of us.”

******

The cadence of his footsteps is unfamiliar, and nearly nonexistent, but you know it’s him coming into the library a few minutes after breakfast has ended without ever having to look up. Mrs. Taylor has left menus for you to approve and Max is outside at the teahouse with Mr. Taylor — and Renee is altogether too bright and sunshiny for such a quiet entrance. But when Yayo appears holding a beautifully and intricately carved box in his hands, the arrival is near-silent and solemn.

“I had considered leaving these in your rooms.” He admits quietly, his voice low and soothing like it always is. “But then, I did not know if you would want that.”

“Would you…” you push the tray of menus aside, knowing that Mrs. Taylor won’t object to getting them later today. Not when these letters are so important. “Want to sit with me? While I read some?”

“I would be delighted.” Silently and much faster than Max, he moves over to you with the box.

The letter box is lacquered mahogany, trimmed in gilded dragons done after the Chinese style in what you now know intimately as chinoiserie — a Gilded Age specialty. It’s yet one more thing in this house that someone else would sell for a fortune at auction and instead you cling to it desperately as a connection to your family’s past. The key that he has left resting on top fits neatly into the lock and you open the box with a small smile as you bite your lip in concentration. The box is very old, after all, and delicate. What’s inside, though? Dozens of letters. Some thick and some thin. All stamped with blood red wax and addressed to you. “There’s…so many of them…”

“My late soulmate was a woman who loved to write letters.” He admits, his smile wistful. “There is a trunk of letters she had written to your mother while we were…estranged.” He reveals. “At one point after learning of her death, she had thought to burn them all, but could not.”

“The accident wasn’t easy for anyone,” you admit, glad to see him pull up a chair beside the large library desk with you instead of pacing anxiously or giving you distance. There has been so much distance for so long — all you want now is to keep him close. “I almost withdrew my place in college and just stayed closed up in the house. But I knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“No, they wouldn’t have.” As much as he regrets not being there for you, he admires your courage. You might not think so, but you have been extremely strong-willed through the last ten years.

“And these are…all for me?” It seems incredible to you, that anyone would have spent so much time and effort just thinking of you, but the reality of things has been so different than what you thought they were for your entire life that it bears a sort of…reinspection.

“Yes.” He smiles at the box. “She would sit at her writing desk and talk to me about you. Wondering what you were like, how you were doing.”

“What was your favorite thing to imagine?” There is no way they could have guessed the truth, and that is your comfort. That you hope they never feared for you.

“You used to love to dance.” Your grandfather hums. “We spent hours dancing in your living room when you were small. We used to imagine you dancing. Laughing as you were guided along the dance floor.”

“I stopped for a long time.” You admit, not ashamed of the fact although you’re ashamed of the reason. It’s just what happened. It was your life for many years. “But I’ve started again…because of Max.”

“That’s brilliant.” His eyes sparkle in delight and his lips quirk up in a pleased smile. “You were so happy to learn when you were just a baby.”

“I loved ballet.” The slipper blanket still in your room is proof enough of that, and you smile. “But I do love ballroom more. And Max did danced competitively in college. It’s…honestly so nice to be able to share that with him.”

“It was my rule for the school that all students must take an elective that was creative.” He tells you with a dramatic flip of his hand. “I think it appealed to him because I was teaching the class and your soulmate is a bit of a suck up.”

“So you teach, then?” Ignoring the comment about Max — because you used to be a little bit of a suck up in dance class, too — you leave the letter chest closed and focus on Yayo. “In Romania?”

“That is how I discovered your soulmate, Muñequita.” He hums. “When I saw the birthmark, a mark I would know anywhere, I knew. I knew I had to take him under my wing.”

“I’m so grateful that you did.” If not for Yayo, who knows who Max’s sire would have been? Who knows how you ever would have found him again?

“I made mistakes with him as well.” He can admit that, flashing a fangy smile. “I let him get too arrogant. But he has learned his lesson.”

“According to him, he was already arrogant,” you tell your grandfather. “But he says that his attitude has changed enormously since you brought him back.”

“It has.” He agrees with Max’s assessment of himself completely. “This house, his stay here has been good for him.”

“This house has been good for me, too.” Yesterday morning notwithstanding, of course.

“Of course it has.” To imagine anything else would be unbelievable. “Despite your mother’s ill feelings, I had this house built to be a refuge, a haven, if you will.”

“Mom didn’t like having her hand forced. I didn’t understand it then, but I do as I get older.” It makes you shrug, though, not wanting to start an argument with your grandfather. “But this house has certainly been a haven for me. So thank you.”

“If I could have done things differently, I would have.” He admits quietly. “I would have bitten my tongue and realized my daughter’s dreams for life weren’t mine for her.”

“Regretting and wishing can’t bring them back,” you murmur, voice finding the same tenor as his. “If it could, we would have had my parents back immediately.”

“You are right.” He reaches out and pats your hand. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

“I have had a lot of time to think it over. Not as much as you, of course, but…” A slight shrug of your shoulders comes as your hand runs over the box in front of you again. “There is so much I would say to my mother if I could see her again.”

His smile turned mysterious and he hums. “Think of what you would say to her, Muñequita. Never forget it.”

“I wish she could meet Max.” The thought had already occurred to you more than once, and as much as it hurts you also have to believe that she’s watching over you with your father beside her. “I think they would enjoy teasing each other.”

“She had a robust sense of humor.” He chuckles. “Perhaps one day you will know what she thinks.”

“It would be too wonderful for words, I think.” Dwelling on it for too long threatens to drown you in a wave of sadness, and your expression flickers — faltering slightly. “But I can dream.”

Sensing that you might want some space, he pats your hand again and stands. “I think I will go have Mrs. Taylor bring you up a pot of tea while you go through your abuela’s letters.” He decides.

“Thank you, Yayo.” Your hand catches his, squeezing his fingers tight for a moment before letting it go again. “For everything.”

“It is my pleasure and my duty.” He nods and bows slightly before disappearing from sight.

The box in front of you is full to bursting, and when you open the lid it is clear that some letters consist of a single page while some are self-contained novelas. They seem to be stacked in order of writing, but not with any semblance of order in the time between each letter. Selecting the first — a single sheet neatly folded, waxed, and dated — you carefully slip the seal and open the paper.

My Darling Girl— It has been a month and a week since we visited you last, making today your ninth birthday. I hope it is joyful, sweetheart, and that you know how very dearly your grandfather and I love you. When we see you again we will bring your gift and heaps of books, and your grandfather will dance with you until you are too exhausted even to laugh. And it will do my heart so much good to see you both reunited. You are the magic of our hearts, darling, and always will be. But in case this letter is only the first of many you will not see until you are a grown woman, know that we are thinking of you and missing you every day. And that we are so proud of you, no matter what path you choose each day. Happy birthday, darling girl. We love you. Granny Cookie

The heavy vellum paper is quite old, the scrawling, looping handwriting a work of art. Cookie had whimsically decided that your letters would be written with a quill, like she would have before. Making it a labor of love.

There are so many that it seems daunting, and something tells you not to read them in order but that might just be a response to how many there are. You’re still toying with the box, though, when Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway with a tea tray.

“Your grandfather said you might enjoy some tea while you read.” She smiles as she walks inside. “I took the liberty of making Cookie’s favorite tea for you.”

“You’ve known the entire time.” Far from being angry or accusatory, there is awe in your voice. Her loyalty and steadfastness to your grandparents is astonishing.

“I have.” She doesn’t apologize, her smile softening slightly. “It has been hard not to mention your mother, since you look so like her.”

The tea tray she sets down on the desk beside you is sparse, but Mrs. Taylor never brings * only* tea. There is a plate of scones today, with jam and butter. “Did you ever meet me before?” You ask cautiously, unsure if you had ever even been to this house as a child or if the housekeeper had ever traveled with your grandparents. “When I was young?”

“We have met before.” She answers vaguely, a curious twist to her lips. “There was a time we spend quite a bit of time together.”

“I wish I could remember.” It must have been when you were just a baby, considering that first letter from your abuela was at your ninth birthday. “I wish I could remember this house. Or visiting here.”

“A side effect of the spell.” She murmurs quietly. “It’s as if this house never existed to you before now.”

“I knew my mother was powerful, but I guess I never really knew how much.” There were always signs of it growing up, and of course your father has considerable magic as well, but this is a level far beyond what you knew was possible. “But…I never knew she was half-vampire, either. I suppose there was quite a lot they kept from me.”

“Your mother…” she sighs softly, a sound just for you. It had been amazing learning how to do those things again when you don’t need to breathe. It conveys so much. “Always looked at the other side of the field and admired the grass there. Even though her side was perfectly lush.”

“She wanted to explore.” Even as young as you were when she died, you know that. “Explore new experiences and meet new people. The more and the more different, the better.”

“She had been that way for her entire life.” Mrs. Taylor hums, happy that she had never lost her spark. “She was the first of her social circle to wear pants when it was so terribly taboo.”

“I can see her doing that. Being a rabble rouser.” In fact, from alternative choices at bake sales to extra adventures on field trips, your mother was always ready for anything. For a long time, you had wanted to grow up to be just like her. Fearless.

“Despite that, she broke many hearts when her soulmate was found.” She tells you. “She had quite the number of gentleman callers before.”

“Dad always joked that he had to treat Mom like a princess because there would always be another guy who would if he didn’t.” Mostly those jokes had been to encourage you to look for someone who would treat you the same, but you hadn’t really understood that at the time. Now, you think it might be a big part of why your father might have approved of Max. “So I can see that.”

“That is true.” She agrees. “I did not get to know your father well, but he seemed like he was a good man. He loved your mother, that was obvious.”

“He did.” You nod, agreeing with that statement easily. “He loved her more than anything else in the world.”

“Then that is all that matters.” While she’s sure that her soulmate would have been amazing, she’s not lived for as long as she had without knowing that you don’t have to be a soulmate to love someone completely.

“They were wonderful together.” It warns a small, almost wistful sigh from you and you smile. “Completely wonderful.”

******

Max had not meant to leave you alone all day. After breakfast with his sire, he had gone off with Mr. Taylor to look at the Tea House. Looking had turned into doing and half the afternoon was gone before he realized. Strolling into the morning room, he grins when he finds you still reading letters, happy to see you enjoying yourself. Carefully handling the folded and wax sealed paper as if it were precious, because it is to you. “How many secrets did the old bird spill?”

“You’re never going to believe some of the stuff she wrote out for me.” Having moved from the library after tea to the window seat in the morning room, you’ve been basking in the near-sunset while you read uninterrupted. But now that Max is back inside? You shift to one side of the seat and sit up, making room for him to join you. “She wrote down as much as she could stand to, I think. Sometimes just little notes and sometimes pages upon pages.”

Max plops down next to you in a graceless flop that would have looks undignified by anyone else. He makes it look almost elegant in its casualness. “So it’s like a journal….in letters?” He asks curiously, peeking at the script of the one you are holding.

“Kind of.” You nod and shift closer to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne when he puts one arm around you. Since vampires don’t sweat, the only underlying scent is the intensely powerful sunscreen he wears everyday to keep from being affected by the sun. Enchanted, according to him. “Some of these are stories about my mom. Others are talking about powers she suspects I might have had, or would be able to develop. Others are just memories. Sometimes she even wrote down stories about her and Yayo.”

“Really?” His eyes widen and he playfully waggles his brows. “Don’t know if you should be reading those.” He teases.

“They’re not intimate stories.” You pinch Max with two fingers and laugh, feeling lighter this afternoon than you thought you would be able to. “They’re my grandparents.”

“Uhhhh, hate to tell you, babe…” Max grins even wider, happy you are laughing and smiling. “Grandparents fuck.” He snorts. “Otherwise there would be no parents to have the grandkids and make them grandparents.”

“Yes, they do.” The way you roll your eyes is just for show, playing along with his teasing. “But they don’t typically tell those stories to their twelve-year-old granddaughters.” The letter you happen open to be holding is on the thicker side, dated the summer you were twelve. “Usually.”

He snickers and shrugs. “It would be a lot cooler if they did.” He jokes. “Let the g-kids know how hip they were at one time.”

“I think I would have been horrified to hear that when I was twelve,” you tell him honestly. “I was a very innocent kid.”

“Very innocent, huh?” He leans in and kisses your cheek. “We’ll change that, Queenie.”

“I was an innocent kid.” The last word gets emphasis, and you tilt your head to kiss his lips as of that proves some sort of point. “I don’t think what we did the other night counts as innocent in the least.”

“Just a little harmless grinding.” His grin turns positively wicked. “It’ll be less innocent when my ‘no need to breathe’ face is planted in your pussy for hours on end until you can’t take another orgasm.”

It should be abundantly obvious from the shock on your face that you hadn’t yet put that puzzle together, and the heat in your cheeks radiates off you in waves. “Yep…” you manage to swallow finally and half-nod. “That will be…not innocent at all.”

The chuckle he gives is filthy, accompanied by a wink. “So I was thinking about another date tonight.”

"You were?" the suggestion lights you up immediately, although it is tinged with that unfortunate but real paranoia. "Did you have something in mind?"

“I know you love to dance, but I don’t want to be a one trick pony.” Max hums, leaning in against you. “So I thought we could be disgustingly cliché. There’s a pumpkin patch, with a corn maze and a ‘haunted hayride’.” He puts air quotes around the last portion. “They do all the cutesy shit and sell hot chocolate. I thought you would love it.”

“Are you going to protect me from all the jump scares and fake vampires?” It’s your own small brand of teasing, because even though you love horror movies as an adult there is something about jump scares in real life that is less fun and more anxiety-inducing. The one thing you do know, though, deep in your heart? Is that Max will protect you no matter what.

“Absolutely.” Max practically giggles. “Gotta show off so your little pussy throbs at what a strong, manly vamp I am.” He winks to show that he’s teasing, but he would protect you from anything.

“And you can smell it, so I can’t even pretend like it doesn’t affect me.” Which, admittedly, could be slightly embarrassing. But for some reason Max being so in tune with your emotions is a wicked turn on.

“You can pretend it doesn’t affect you at any time.” He hums. “Just because you’re turned on, doesn’t mean you are in the mood, sweetheart.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Although he does have a point, and you appreciate him acknowledging it out loud. “I was thinking more like…it’s harder to play innocent. Since I kind of have an inkling that you might enjoy that sort of thing.”

“Hmmmmm but I like when someone plays hard to get.” He admits with a grin. “Knowing they want me but making me chase is just as thrilling.”

“So this works for you perfectly then, I guess?” It’s one less thing to have on your mind, if he’s telling the truth. And Max has never given you any reason to think he would lie. “You probably love those great big doe eyes some girl have. The innocence and purity of it all.”

“I like your eyes.” He flirts shamelessly. “They are the prettiest I’ve ever gotten lost in.”

“I’m already yours, ya know.” Despite the protest, you absolutely melt in his arms and become a puddle against his chest. “You don’t have to flirt.”

“I want to flirt.” He promises. “Flirting is good for the body, mind and soul.” He announces. “It makes you feel good, makes you feel wanted and it makes you easier to kiss.” He teases, turning his head and kissing your nose.

“In that case?” You could not be more putty-like in his arms if he had been literally kneading your shoulders. “What time do you want to go out tonight? Because hay rides and pumpkins and chilly fall things with you sounds like a dream.”

“Six? Six-thirty?” He asks. “That way we still have plenty of daylight to pick out pumpkins? I know you will want one or two.”

“That’s perfect.” You would probably put a pumpkin or two in every room of the house if you could, but that sounds like a mess waiting to happen. “Do you want to sit with me for a little bit or do you have something you want to do before then?” It’s about a hour and a half away, and there are so many more letters from your grandmother to read. The box seems never ending. It might even be enchanted to hold extra, you can’t tell.

“I’m right here until we change,” he promises. “I’m thinking this will be our casual date. Leggings, boots, for you of course.”

“Maybe we can alternate?” It’s just a small idea, but knowing that he loves to dress up and make a splash and you aren’t typically as well dressed as he is lets you both have moments of fun and moments of relaxation. “Something fancy and something casual?”

“That sounds good to me, Queenie.” He flashes you a grin. “Can’t hurt and it’ll keep you from getting bored.”

“I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you.” It’s just a feeling, but it’s right in the back of your mind and hovering over your heart, so it’s undeniable.

“It’s because I’m incredible.” He boasts, but it’s all just an act. His thigh is pressed against yours and he looks over at the letters. “Want to read me one? Or is it something you’d rather keep to yourself for now?”

“I think it’s safe to say that my family is your family…since my grandfather is literally your sire and all.” It does sort of call the structure of vampire families into question in your mind, but that is a detail you will ask Yayo about later on. “You can read the next one. That sounds nice.”

“You want me to read it to you?” He asks, brow raised at the thought. “I will.”

“I like your voice,” you admit sheepishly, sinking down in his arms a little in a rush of embarrassment. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of it now.” He teases, reaching into the box and selecting a letter. “Hmmmm, how does this one look?”

“Perfect.” Every time he shows such amusement or happiness at little compliments from you, you feel that same skip in your heart that you’re starting to think might become a permanent fixture in your life. Max never ceases to surprise you with his affection and it really is wonderful.

“Puuuuurrrrrfect.” He rolls his ‘r’ playfully as he slides a neatly manicured nail under the wax seal and breaks it. Stopping and shuddering before he looks over at you. “Did you feel that?”

“It’s just a little chilly in here.” You explain it away instinctively, not even realizing that a breeze would have no effect on Max whatsoever.

“Sppppooooooky.” He’s playing it up, but there had been a current to the air when he broke the seal on this letter. Clearing his through is purely perfunctory as he opens the stiff paper. “My darling Muñequita,” he begins and says the date.

This is a later letter, something from you were a teenager. Max must have gone deep into the box. You hum happily at that and snuggle into his side like a cat.

“You really are the cleverest witch I have seen in my time. And considering how old I truly am, that is saying something.” He tilts his head and glances up at you before looking back at the letter. “To think that the answer was right in front of us, just a few words difference is simply magical, pardon the pun.”

“Are you sure this one is addressed to me and not my mom?” Though the question is rhetorical, there is also a nugget of truth to it. You haven’t done any sort of remarkable magic in years.

“It says it’s to you.” He huffs, flipping it back over so you can see the way it’s addressed. “Hush.” He blows you a raspberry. “Take the compliments. Now where was I?” He scans the page again. “For centuries, we had just believed that it was a myth, as fanciful as that sounds. Time travel. Who would have believed H.G.Wells was a witch?”

“I’m sorry.” Sitting up ramrod straight in an instant, your eyes go wide. “Did you just say time travel?”

“Are you always this disruptive?” Max teases as he waves the letter at you. “It’s right here. Do you want to read it for yourself?”

“But time travel is impossible!” Managing to snatch the letter from his hand, you settle back in his arms with a furrowed brow and your two front teeth firmly biting down on your lower lip as you reread what he had just read out loud. “Who would have believed H.G. Wells was a witch? Of course, everyone know that magic, alchemy, and science are all the same thing. But not everyone knows how to harness it to emotion. But you are such a clever thing, we ought to have suspected that you would find a way.”

“Sounds like someone did something.” Max intones, his voice playful, but he’s impressed.

“I can’t imagine what. By the time this was written, they hadn’t been allowed to see me in more than six years.” Still, the pull of this particular letter is far too strong, and you turn back to it with curiosity. “It took us an embarrassingly long time to understand it fully, Muñequita, but once we did you cannot imagine how foolish we felt for not seeing it years before.”

“Wow...incredibly intriguing.” Max snorts, impatient as always. “Like- what did you do? I wanna know.”

"I'm disruptive and you're impatient," you tease, but you keep reading. "To know that you managed to visit us from your time is remarkable beyond words. And how clever you were not to let us know, to never have even given us a whiff. You have your Yayo's talent for keeping secrets, darling girl, and we are so proud of the power you have finally come to. We will keep the portrait you so graciously left with us in the house and I will display it proudly for all of my days, telling anyone who asks that my granddaughter has a warm and loving heart and a doting, charming husband."

“Husband?” His own eyes widen slightly and his lips curve into a slow grin. “Something I should know, Queenie?”

“At the moment you know exactly as much as I do.” Your hand is practically shaking with the letter in it, but the slightly smug, pleased grin on his face makes you huff out a laugh. “I have no idea!”

“Wellllllll, now we have a mystery to talk about.” Max chuckles. He knows that you don’t know, but it’s intriguing.

“If I had to guess?” Being the kind of little kid — and sometimes adult — that had dreamt yourself into every possible and impossible kind of situation, you avoid his eyes slightly when you shrug. “If this is true, then you must have been there, too. I wouldn’t call anybody else that, and depending on when we went to, dating doesn’t exist. It’s married or unmarried, and an unmarried woman has a hell of a lot more restrictions on how she can act than a married one.”

“That would be interesting.” He snorts and shrugs. “I promise I won’t demand my husbandly rights if you’re correct.”

“Maybe we’ll actually be married by the time it happens, who knows?” It’s such a ludicrous ides that you can’t really take it seriously in the first place, and you shrug. “Besides, it’s time travel, honey. It’s not true. It can’t be.”

“And vampires don’t exist.” Max reminds you with a grin. “It’s so unbelievable that you would go back in time to visit with your granny when your soulmate doesn’t have a pulse and drinks blood?”

He has, frustratingly, a very good point. So much so that it makes you pause with your mouth already half-open to a pithy reply and shut it again with a furrowed brow. “I guess…” you swallow a deep breath. “If I wear every going to visit anyone…”

“She would be the one to visit.” Max finishes for you. “I wonder when you visit her. Obviously you haven’t yet.”

“After Mom was born.” You can answer that easily, even if your voice is quiet. “Any time when Mom was young. I always wondered what she was like as a young woman…and she never liked to tell stories. I get why, now. How could she rephrase a story about the 1870s to make it sound like modern life?” The idea of seeing your mother again is painful it’s so sweet, and you sniffle quietly, burying your face in your free hand. “I miss her so much.”

“I know you do.” Max hums thoughtfully after a moment. “You can’t have gone to the past when she would remember it, would you? Otherwise, she might have done things differently in life, right?”

“I guess…it would have to have been long enough ago that she wouldn’t have a strong memory of me. Or at least that she would never make the connection.” It feels like such a weird thing to contemplate, but Max is looking down at you so intently that you find yourself just spinning in the idea. Trying to follow the thought all the way through. “And I certainly wouldn’t use my real name. It would be Dolly. Or Queenie.”

“When we time travel, don’t use your real name, got it.” He gives you a thumbs up and snorts playfully. “Can I have a code name too?”

“Sure.” If you do roll your eyes at him it’s all in good fun and teasing. “What do you want your code name to be? James Bond?”

“Bond.” He imitates with an English accent. “James Bond.” He laughs and shakes his head.

He is laughing, which has you giggling, and you shake your head at him in pure amusement. “I genuinely can’t tell if that’s a yes or no,” you tease.

“I would need something way cooler.” He huffs and smirks at you. “Something that is subtly acknowledging my sexual magmatism.”

“Bruno?” Just about anything would be silly, and you can’t resist his smirk anyway. “Should we call you Jean-Claude van Damme?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Romania, not Austria, babe.”

“What would you like to be called?” What he wants is more important than anything, after all. At least, it is to you.

“I was just teasing, sweetheart.” He promises. “Call me Max, I promise it’ll be alright with me.”

"We won't ever need to worry about it." You're certain of that, somehow. Even with the evidence sitting right there in your hand.

“With this discovery, do you still want to go out?” He asks quietly. If you’d rather read more letters, he wouldn’t blame you.

“I think I need some time to adjust to the idea,” you admit, putting the letter down without finishing it. It’s taking up so much space in your mind that you feel as if you might explode. “Maybe I’ll shower before we go out? I know we said tonight is going to be casual but I still want to look nice for you.”

“Go shower, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “Or better yet, go soak in that claw foot tub.”

“Yeah?” It’s a very soothing idea, and you have to agree that it might do you a world of good. All the same, though, you don’t want to be too far from Max. “Are you going to go back out to the tea house?”

“No.” He can sense your unease, and he quickly decides that he will stay nearby. “I’m going to go see if my jeans still fit.” He jokes with a grin. “Haven’t worn them in a long time. No need to, until now.”

“I know you’ll be very handsome in whatever you choose.” It is touching, though, that he is dressing down for you. Because you know that his suits are his suits of armor.

“I know the leather jacket is what you’ll focus on.” He jokes, winking at you.

If you could stop yourself from blurting it out you would have, but your immediate reaction is an unapologetic: “You have a leather jacket?”

His eyes light up when you give yourself away and he nods. “Yep.” He hums, leaning in to you, crowding you slightly. “Black leather.”

“That…” When you swallow it’s slightly embarrassed but interested all the same. “That sounds nice.”

“Does it?” He rubs his hand down your arm. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll see how you look in it tonight when you get cold.”

The thought of being marked as his in any way makes you burn in the most unexpectedly lustful way, and you clear your throat before standing up. “I going to go take a cold bath.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” Max reaches out and pats your hip. “I’ll be here when you get out.” He pauses. “Better yet, I’ll be at your door when you’re ready.”

______

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