#inheritance fanfiction

[lordmorzan]

Murtagh likes to go to the public library after school, but they close early on Fridays. After Morzan forgets to pick him up, Murtagh wanders off on an adventure getting lost in the city because his dad would be too mad if the librarian calls the cops again.

#Murtagh #inheritance fanfiction #inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle fanfiction

[deafchild2000]

Inheritance Profile: Lizzie Saltzman

FULL NAME

• Elizabeth Jenna Saltzman

BORN

• March 15, 2014 (McKinley, Virginia, Age 14-15)

STATUS

• Alive

OCCUPATION

• Member of the Gemini Coven

• Student

TITLE(S)

• Wonder Twins, Little Munchkins, and Little Squirt (All by Damon)

• Mean Girl (by Hope about Lizzie and Josie)

• Queen of Mean (by Penelope)

• Dude (by Hope)

• Crazy Lizzie (by herself)

• Liz-bear (by Alaric)

• Bottle Blonde, Lesser Evil, Queen Elizabeth (by Harmony)

SPECIES

• Siphoner

GENDER

• Female

FAMILY INFORMATION

FAMILY MEMBERS

Biological:

• Alaric (Paternal Great-Great-Grandfather)

• Ed Saltzman (Paternal Grandfather)

• Dianne Saltzman (Paternal Grandmother)

• Joshua Parker † (Maternal Grandfather)

• Joshua's Twin Brother † (Maternal Great-Uncle)

• Malachai Parker † (Maternal Uncle)

• Joey Parker † (Maternal Uncle)

• 1 Unnamed Maternal Uncle †

• 2 Unnamed Maternal Aunts †

• Olivia Parker † (Maternal Aunt)

• Lucas Parker † (Maternal Uncle)

• Josette Laughlin † (Biological Mother)

• Alaric Saltzman (Father)

• Josie Saltzman (Twin Sister)

• Elena Gilbert (Step-Sister via Alaric)

Via Surrogacy:

• Caroline Forbes (Surrogate Mother)

• Stefan Salvatore † (Late Step-Father via Caroline)

• William Forbes † (Surrogate Maternal Ancestor)

• Gerald Forbes † (Surrogate Maternal Ancestor)

• Margaret Forbes † (Surrogate Maternal Ancestor)

• Bill Forbes † (Surrogate Maternal Grandfather)

• Elizabeth Forbes † (Surrogate Maternal Grandmother)

• Bob (Surrogate Maternal Great-Uncle)

• Mary (Surrogate Maternal Great-Aunt)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT

• 5'9" (Feet)

• 1.75 (Meters)

HAIR COLOR

• Blonde

EYE COLOR

• Blue

Early History

While Jo Laughlin was thinking she was sick from food poisoning it was revealed by her brother that she's pregnant after she gives him her power for him to survive the consequences of the jacked merging ritual he performed with his brother, Luke, instead of Jo. Jo and Alaric began to pick out names for the baby. Elena finds out about Jo's pregnancy when she tells her that Kai had been imprisoned in the 1903 prison world.

Jo and Bonnie are attacked by Lily during Jo's bachelorette party. As she is about to feed on Jo, Lily hears the babies' heartbeats and tells her that she is expecting twins. Later, Jo tells Alaric that they will be having twins and that the Gemini Coven will want to get their hands on them to strip Kai of power by performing another twin merge.

Damon reveals that Jo is dead after Kai stabbed her in the abdomen and believed the twins were killed too.

It is revealed by Valerie Tulle that the twins survived Kai's attack on Jo because the Gemini Coven performed a spell to transfer the twins into another body. It was also revealed that Caroline Forbes is currently pregnant with twins. It was revealed that she and her sister had siphoned a bit of magic from Caroline's body for a long time, but as they grew in her womb, they siphoned more and more magic out of her system, until Caroline began to desiccate. Before she was born with her twin, they used telekinesis to keep her from being born because they were attached to the magic in Caroline's body. Bonnie and Valerie finished the job by drawing magic out of Caroline's body as the doctors perform a C-section, allowing Lizzie and her twin sister, Josie, to be born on March 15, 2014.

Alaric, the twins, and Caroline head to Dallas as he wants to keep his promise to Jo. While at a diner, the twins begin to cry and Caroline is having a hard time putting Josie to sleep. After talking to Klaus for a few minutes, Josie is silently sleeping and Klaus mentions they shouldn't wake her up, and he proceeds to hang up.

3 years later, Caroline is seen with the twins in New Orleans at St. James Infirmary looking for Klaus. The bartender tells Caroline that Klaus hasn't been seen or heard from in 3 years, which leaves Caroline puzzled.

Lizzie, along with her sister and her father, calls Caroline before they go to bed. They appear to miss Caroline being around as she has been on the run with Stefan Salvatore, trying to get away from Bonnie. Before they go to bed, they say their good-nights to Caroline before Alaric takes the phone from them to talk to Caroline alone. Alaric and Caroline both decide to use Lizzie, along with her twin sister Josie, to siphon Bonnie's spell over the Armory as Bonnie was suffering from the effects of Rayna's poisonous blood. Lizzie, along with Josie, was successful in opening the Armory doors and she embraces Caroline in triumph, while Alaric hugs Josie.

Lizzie and her sister, Josie, video call Alaric until he asked for Seline. Seline tells them to go put on their swimsuits while they chat. Later, the girls visit Caroline at work; Seline leaves to go have a salad for lunch and leaves the girls with Caroline. When she left, Caroline mentions that Seline probably loves kale, which makes Lizzie ask her what is kale; Caroline responds you don't want to know. The video, that is given to her by Seline from Pete, which Caroline is attempting to watch gets to a certain point and the sound messes up to which Lizzie tells her mommy that it is too loud. Later that evening, Virginia breaks into the house, attacks Seline, and tries to kill the girls for opening the armory. Virginia stalks through the house where she comes to the girls' room. When inside, she hears laughing come from the closet and proceeds through before she can approach is knocked out by Caroline. Caroline checks the closet and finds the girls, Lizzie saying hi to her mommy, to which Caroline tells the girls don't move while she goes to handle Virginia. Lizzie and Josie are first seen fighting over the tuning fork, to which Alaric tells Lizzie to put the fork down immediately. She tells her dad she had it first, which prompts Alaric to yell at Lizzie to drop it. Lizzie drops the fork and she and Josie begin to scream over the vibrations the tuning fork makes. Alaric picks up the fork to stop the vibrations and proceeds to comfort the girls. Josie and Lizzie are getting ready for bed. Lizzie asks Seline for a bedtime story, to which Josie answers nothing sad. Seline then tells them "The Legend of Arcadius". Seline takes Josie and Lizzie to the local carnival where the sisters have fun playing games and won a goldfish. However, it's dead and Seline explains that the deceased need to be treated with dignity so that they can find peace in death. She also explains to them how their souls are taken by Cade and that they can show him what they've done. She teaches the twins the Incendia spell and sets a pile of wood, albeit hiding a corpse underneath, on fire. Caroline and Alaric issue an Amber Alert for her and Lizzie as Seline has kidnapped them. She and Lizzie are taken to a diner and then to a motel, where Seline offers them to Arcadius, who Seline and Sybil have called out to. To spare the twins the same fate as the sirens, Stefan offers himself to be Arcadius' servant; an offer which Cade accepts. Josie and Lizzie visit Caroline for Christmas since they haven't been with her since their dad took both to a safe location.

Alaric brings the girls back to Mystic Falls and takes them to the Armory. He calls Caroline wanting to bring the girls over and admits that he needs good parenting advice as unbeknownst to her, they've been acting up and their siphoning and magic are growing unstable. As he checks in on the girls, they continue coloring as levitating crayons above their heads.

Alaric soon arrives at Caroline's later that night with Lizzie and Josie in tow. Both are thrilled to see their mother and embrace her in warm hugs, commenting about how big they've grown seen she last saw them. They sit down as a family to get dinner and Lizzie accidentally siphons Caroline as she wants to use her sister's cup, the pink one. Josie sits by as she watches Alaric scold her sister and sees that she hurt their mom. Josie is visibly upset at her sister and attempts the Incendia spell on Lizzie but the spell failed without any magic to draw from. Nevertheless, Alaric and Caroline intervene grabbing the two girls; Caroline scolding Josie that those words could seriously hurt her sister. Alaric and Caroline look on, worried about their wild and troubling behavior.

When Kai Parker was brought back to life, she and her sister hide under their bed when Kai breaks free from his cell in the Armory. After he's subdued by Alaric and Caroline, she and Lizzie, with Bonnie's guidance, lock him away in a new prison world, ensuring their safety.

Josie and her sister are the flower girls for Stefan and Caroline's wedding. Later that night, during the reception she, Lizzie, and Bonnie are caught in the crossfire when Kelly Donovan made the Lockwood Mansion explode although, with Bonnie's guidance, she teaches them the spell that they need to survive, ultimately, Bonnie removes all the fire from the building and leads them to safety. Bonnie leads the twins out of the charred building. Alaric and Caroline are overwhelmed with joy as Bonnie saved them. They soon learn that they are not out of danger and they all leave Mystic Falls, stopping briefly at the Armory. They are seen later playing outside the Salvatore Boarding House as Alaric unpacks the newly designed Salvatore Boarding School sign, established for supernatural kids. Josie and Lizzie, as well as Alaric, are last seen being watched over by their mother, Jo's spirit, who had found peace.

In July 2019, 5-year-old Lizzie and Josie are introduced to 7-year-old twins, Hope & Harmony Marshall. The twins take a liking to them, but Lizzie mostly bonds with Harmony.

In December 2020, Alaric was supposed to go Christmas Tree shopping with the 6-year-old twins but was alerted by Emma about a magical surge appearing on the Potential Student map. Unable to go shopping with the twins, Alaric left with Dorian to retrieve this new student. One night, Josie rushed into their dorm and told Lizzie that she learned their father went to collect a student who killed her parents over her Christmas presents. This lie fueled the fire in Lizzie's mind over the "injustice" of her dad skipping out on them & lead to her spreading this rumor throughout the school to make the new girl pay for ruining Christmas shopping for her. So when Alyssa Chang arrived the next day, she was singled out and ostracized during her first days at Salvatore. She enjoyed watching 8-year-old Alyssa being outcasted by the rest of the students upon arrival. However, the joy began to lose its luster and slowly formed into jealousy when she saw Harmony becoming fast friends with the girl. This would indirectly lead to years of feuding with Alyssa with Harmony acting as the referee.

In 2021, 7-year-old Lizzie and Josie began noticing that Alaric began paying special attention to the Marshall twins and started having sparring lessons with them. One day, having been annoyed to see their dad heading to the quarry to spar with the Marshalls, began ranting to Josie about how unfair it was when Harmony came to their dorm asking them to join her and her sister. With some convincing with the assurance that Alaric was patiently waiting for them, the twins agreed and chained into their fitness clothes before following Harmony. However, when they got to the quarry, all three girls saw that Alaric and Hope had started without them despite Harmony promising they wouldn't. Hearing Alaric hyping Harmony and Hope up while downplaying his daughters for them to hear made Lizzie run away in tears. Harmony eventually caught up and tried to console her, but in her distress, Lizzie accidentally siphoned off of her and pushed her to a wall, causing her to bleed and have a concussion. Horrified, she ran back to her dad, who quickly retrieved Harmony and brought her to the infirmary. For a few days, Lizzie was completely guilt-ridden until she heard the news that Harmony woke up. She was scared to approach her until being encouraged by Caroline on the phone. To her surprise, Harmony was happy to see her and easily forgave her as it was an accident.

In 2025, with Lizzie and Josie's upcoming 11th birthday coming up, they invited almost everyone at school, except Hope. Harmony told them off about it but Alaric brought Hope, which resulted in it ending with the entire party ruined and descending into chaos. Harmony got injured getting in the middle of Hope and the twins fight as a result. Both sets of twins were punished accordingly.

This sequence of events caused Lizzie to have an emotional meltdown that caused her to destroy her and Josie's dorm. Josie and Harmony had to calm her down, the latter needing to use her empath abilities to calm her down. Lizzie was later diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Sometime after, under the advisement of Emma, Lizzie started writing in a diary featuring a Star Wars-inspired world filled with her interests.

Before Spring Break, Lizzie and Josie were preparing to go to Florida with their parents. However, it was halted due to a massive fire in Harmony and Hope's dorm - burning almost everything they had, including a cherished picture Hope painted with Klaus and nearly Harmony's violin. Believing Hope did this to ruin her Spring Break, Lizzie came up with a plan to even the score. One night, she snuck into Emma's office and looked through her files hoping to find dirt on Hope. Seeing the files labeled "H. Marshall #1" and "H. Marshall #2", Lizzie deduced that #1 was Hope's file and found a CD titled "Sessions with Marshall". However, instead of watching it, she chose to upload it onto the school website. However, she soon earned that the video wasn't of Hope, but of Harmony- who unbeknownst to her was trying to talk to Anastacia, a spirit living in her head. Realizing what she'd done, she tried to undo her mistake, but the damage was done and Harmony was humiliated. She confessed to Alaric and Emma, who were livid and ashamed of her but managed to get the video down, but not before Lizzie was hit with a mental spell that trapped her in her mind by Harmony for her betrayal. Under this spell, Lizzie suffered from a manic episode in which she heard voices of loved ones calling her "a failure" and that she wasn't "good enough". After this episode, the spell was lifted by Harmony, remorsefully regretful for what she'd done. Seeing as they both did horrible things in a spur of anger, they exchanged apologies. But Harmony, unable to get past Lizzie's irrational reasons behind her actions, ended their friendship. This deeply hurt Lizzie and began the start of a strained, antagonistic association between the two.

In February 2026, she and her sister are students at Salvatore but have a reputation for being mean girls. They are constantly in competition with the Midnight Falls Coven (consisting of Harmony, Alyssa, and Penelope Park) for the title of "Most Powerful Witch". Upon news that Hope & Harmony Marshall are the daughters of Klaus Mikaelson after Hope created a hybrid from a werewolf, Henry Benoit, Lizzie hears of her suspension. With Hope suspended, they tried to grow their on the witch's popularity but were halted by Penelope and Alyssa. However, they didn't try anything once learn that a vampire student, Roman Sienna, was an older vampire and part of a group of "nazi vampires" responsible for the deaths of Henry and Hope and Harmony's mother, Hayley.

A month later, Lizzie and Josie see their mom in the middle of a school tour. She pulls them aside later that day and explains the situation of the Mikaelson twins needing their help. They bargain with Caroline as she asks them to help Hope and Harmony - who are dying due to The Hollow's dark magic inside them. Caroline also tells Lizzie that it would be the first step toward gaining Harmony's forgiveness, effectively guilt-tripping her. Before Klaus could get a chance to talk to them, Alaric shoots him with an arrow through the chest, leaving the twins looking shocked at what happened. At night during the full moon, the girls begin a spell to siphon the magic out of Hope & Harmony to insert it into Klaus, who will proceed to kill himself. After the spell is completed, Alaric takes the girls away.

Some days later, Lizzie and Josie come to learn Klaus passed away, leaving his daughters orphaned, and, by word of their mom, Harmony would be permanently living in Mystic Falls with Bonnie Bennett and continue attending Salvatore with Hope.

In May, Lizzie and Josie soon learn that Harmony had disowned Hope as her sister and vowed nothing to do with her.

When Summer began, they went to Europe to spend time with Caroline in Rome. When they return for the school year, they are surprised to learn Harmony changed her last name to "Kenner", cementing her separation from Hope. Lizzie expressed that she didn't know sisters could disown each one another.

In December of 2026, Lizzie was immediately sent to the ER because Alyssa linked Lizzie to a fire spell with her notebook. She wouldn't know it was because of a Josie telling Alyssa she was responsible for the accusations against her when Alyssa first came to Salvatore.

At some point, Lizzie watched as Josie fell in love and began a romantic relationship with Penelope despite the objections of Lizzie, Alyssa, and Harmony. She mutually disliked the witch, but let the relationship go. However, Penelope broke up with Josie, unbeknownst to her reasoning that she can't watch Josie drag herself down to build up Lizzie.

Personality

Lizzie appears to be a typical high school mean girl, underneath bubbles of darkness that cannot go unaddressed. Given both her sinister lineage and the questionable biology (being birth by a vampire) that accompanies it, Lizzie possesses the power to render great harm to the world if her behavior continues to go unchecked. She shows signs of mood swings, self-absorption, and over-possessiveness. Some even say that Lizzie's exactly like her surrogate mother, Caroline, in neurotic tendencies and other traits. It's ultimately Lizzie's attachment to the superficial that will prevent her from doing the introspection necessary to avert the breakdown clearly on the horizon.

While she cares deeply for her family and would do anything for them, she is incapable of seeing things from their perspective unless pushed. She is capable of remorse, as when she realized she mistakenly hurt Harmony.

Lizzie is also a narcissist with a fragile ego that hates when she doesn't have her father's (or anyone she cares about) full attention.

Powers and Abilities

Lizzie is originally born as a siphoner, a witch with no power of her own, meaning that she could only practice magic by siphoning it from another source.

Physical Appearance

Although people describe Lizzie's personality and possibly even her appearance compared to being a "mean girl," she is a beautiful, young woman with light skin, blue eyes, and light, blonde hair.

Name

• Elizabeth is a Greek baby name. In Greek the meaning of the name Elizabeth is: From the Hebrew Elisheba, meaning either oath of God, or God is satisfaction.

• Jenna is of Arabic origin, and the meaning is "heaven." In the Western world, it is a variation of Jennifer, the Cornish variant of Guinevere which means white (fair, pure).

• Saltzman is an Ashkenazic Jewish occupational name for a producer or seller of salt, from German Salz "salt" + Mann "man". Altered spelling of German Salzmann.

Trivia

• If the Gemini Coven found out about the twins then they would have tried to take them from Jo and Alaric to strip Kai of his power as leader of the coven.

• ⬆️ However since it was revealed that they were siphoners, the Gemini Coven would wait for another set of twins to lead them because of their prejudice against siphoners.

• ⬆️ She and her twin sister, Josie, are the first babies that are known to have been carried by a vampire.

• ⬆️⬆️ However, she and Josie were the first to be born via C-section.

• She and her sister were the third birth after Nadia's, Hope's, and Harmony's birth.

• Lizzie is a natural blonde (resembling her Aunt Olivia's shade) but dyes it to match Caroline's shade.

• Lizzie was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at 11.

• ⬆️ It's suspected she was misdiagnosed and has Borderline Personality Disorder.

• ⬆️⬆️ Because Bipolar and Clinical Depression are categorized terms under Depression, Harmony believed she and Lizzie were the same.

• Lizzie had a butterfly clip that went missing in the 3rd grade.

• Despite disliking Hope, Lizzie had a close bond with her sister, Harmony.

• Lizzie is a closet nerd (liking Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, ninjas, and comic books).

• Lizzie had a diary when she was 11.

• Lizzie's favorite color is Lavender.

• Lizzie once had a crush on Jed.

• Her favorite dessert is Key Lime Pie.

• It is speculated that Alaric treats Lizzie differently from Josie because she takes after him and Caroline in looks and personality.

• While Lizzie disliked Hope for her loner attitude, she saw Harmony as an older sister before they fell out.

• ⬆️⬆️ Harmony shared a few spells she created with her.

• Lizzie got pneumonia in the 4th grade during Witch Week and believed Hope gave it to her to stop her from going to Spring Break.

• ⬆️ It is later revealed she caught it from Alyssa.

#legacies #the vampire diaries universe #the vampire diaries #harmony mikaelson #alyssa chang #the originals #legacies cw #harmony kenner #Lizzie saltzman #alaric saltzman #emma tig #josie saltzman #caroline forbes #inheritance fanfiction #character profile

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny and Ellie had majorly screwed up. Now here they were in the hydro-electric car Danny had designed for applying to Wayne industries/whoever would give a fifteen year old a fat paycheck, sitting in the middle of Gotham, at night, surrounded by glaring bats.

Crap.

Time to bullshit his way out of this.

He looked at Red Robin and sheepishly grinned, "...hi dad."

Ellie, the little gremlin, didn't even hesitate before adding, "We are so grounded. I told you we shouldn't have messed with the broken time machine but nooo."

The bats were either taken about or cackling and Danny to this chance to put the petal to the metal and get out of there

Tim is now obsessed with finding his future kids.

#dpxdc #prompts #fanfiction prompts #bonus points if the bats eventually manage to place a listening device onto the car #and catch them saying something like: Ellie: we could do a dna test? Danny:We're not biologically related to him. Ellie:Oh yeah #the bats assume future Tim inherited Bruces adoption tendencies #and the kids inherited Tims wierd luck

[hussyknee]

Shout-out to the brazen AO3 smut crankers posting the nastiest, most unholy filth I can only save in private bookmarks. Y'all's cojones are solid brass. The international sexual deviant community thanks you for your service

#the freak shall inherit the earth #ao3 #ao3 authors #ao3 writers #fanfic #fanfic appreciation #fanfiction appreciation #writer appreciation #proshipping #fandom positivity #sex positive #kink positive #knee of huss

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 1

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Abusive relationship, getting *out* of an abusive relationship, alcoholism, alcohol, mention of sleeping in a car. Summary: One of the worst days of your life takes a sharp right turn into the unexpected when you learn of the death of a long-lost relative. Notes: It's heeeere! Spooky season has officially arrived and with it comes our annual spooky-themed soulmate story! Bringing our two canonical vampires together is going to be endless shenanigans. 🧛‍♂️🧡 Since this story is mostly set inside one of the mansions that I work in, we're planning on using photos of the house as chapter headers some of the time. Visual reference fun!

"Hurry up and get your shit." The drunken bellow from downstairs is followed up by a loud crash, another curse and a thump as your boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – continues to throw the equivalent of a temper tantrum. It hadn't been the first time you've fought, or that the asshole had threatened to throw you out on your ass, but the fist sized hole in the wall that had only been an inch from your face was new, escalating violence.

"Lazy, good for nothing cunt! I work all goddamn day and you couldn't even fucking do what I asked!"

It's not that you don't work. Or that you didn't work. But after getting fired four days ago following yet another day calling out of work to clean up some mess caused by your boyfriend, your manager had said it was the final straw and sent you packing. Since then you had tried to clean up the house, get the back-log of laundry out of the way, and at least make a nice dinner while you applied for new jobs. It isn't your fault that the neighbor's dog got into your yard and ripped a hole in one of his shirts on the clothesline. There is absolutely no way you could have done anything about it. But it is the thing that sent him over the deep end this time and has him screaming at you yet again.

Running upstairs was the best thing you could do to get away from his fist, and now you're just praying that you have enough trash bags in the house to cram your stuff into before he decides to come after you again. You'll be sleeping in your car tonight, but at least all the locks on the doors work. You can manage a few nights in a securely locked car. It's just...that you're not quite sure where you'll go after that.

The sound of the top to a Natural Light beer being cracked open sounds from the base of the stairwell and he takes several loud gulps. Belching from drinking too fast and hitting the wall with the flat of his hand. "Come on, bitch!" He calls out. "I ain't got all night!"

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you pace back to the top of the stairwell and lean down so you can actually see him. Ten goddamn years with this man and this is how it ends. "I'll be gone by the time you get home," you promise him, the resignation obvious in your voice. He'll go to the bar to see his friends like he does after he eats dinner almost every night. You've never been the kind of girlfriend to stop him from seeing his friends, so they have had a routine for almost as many years as you've been together.

"Good." He glares up at you and points a finger. "You better not take any of my shit either." He warns you. "Tired of taking care of your stupid ass. You're in for a rude wake up call. Shit's not easy out there." He burps again and turns around to stumble down the hall. "You are such a disappointment." He yells out before opening the front door and letting it slam behind him, rattling the windows.

"Yeah." You sigh, shaking your head with one of those cheap fleece throw blankets in your hand. It has ballet slippers on it, a relic of a childhood long dream long forgotten. "I know I am." Holding up the blanket to look at it more closely, you debate throwing the damn thing out entirely, but it will keep you warm in the car tonight. It will go into a trash bag along with everything else.

As soon as the blanket is shoved in with your two miniature throw pillows, your phone goes off in your pocket. Expecting it to be Derek, ready to yell at you some more, you're surprised to see Private splashed across the screen instead. If you don't answer it and it is him for any reason, there will be hell to pay. "Hello?"

The smooth, cultured voice on the other end of the line is slightly raspy. As if the person has spent a lifetime swallowing brandy and smoking cigars, or had spent all day talking. In actuality, both of those things are true. Your name is spoken in the form of a question. Asking if he had reached the right person.

"Speaking." The automatic answer doesn't make you feel any less confused, but at least they aren't yelling at you. "Can I ask who's calling, please?"

"Antonio Colette," He tells you quickly. "With Colette and Dupree. I am calling about your late, great aunt, Etienne Brown." He shuffles through the papers to bring up the will that had been laid out, along with the investigators report on you. It was how he had found your current number. "I am executing her estate and quite frankly, it has been a search to find you."

"I'm sorry," you shake your head against the phone as though the man could possibly see you. "I don't know anyone by that name. My, um...I don't know a lot of my family. But that isn't a name I recognize. Maybe you have the wrong person?" There is no reason that any family member you've never heard of would have left you anything in a will, so he must have the wrong number. That's the only explanation you can think of.

"No, ma'am." He tells you. "I don't think I have the wrong person. Is this not a good time to talk?" He can hear something in your voice, and while most were always happy to inherit something, you might have pressing matters to attend to.

Hesitating for a reason you can't quite put your finger on, you glance out the window in the corner of your now former bedroom, the one that overlooks the driveway. Derek's truck is gone, and your shoulders slump a little. You have hours until he comes home now. Usually it's not until after last call. "No...no it's okay. I'm just...not having a great day. What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Ms. Brown was very particular about her will. As executor of the estate, it is my duty to make sure that her last wishes are carried out. As there is no other living relative on your mother's side, she decided that you would be the sole heir of her estate." He explains. "This includes the eight-bedroom mansion and the trust that has been established to pay for the manor. Her private accounts. The total combined monetary worth of twelve point two million dollars."

The crash that he hears from your side of the phone call is you falling over – a product of your legs giving out the second he said the word mansion and then losing your balance all over again at the sum total of the estate. "Wh—what?" You manage to breathe, barely managing not to break down in tears all over again. For an entirely different reason, this time.

"Of course, there is one issue that you must be made aware of." He's used to people being surprised, so he doesn't try to explain. You will soon be holding paperwork that you can read again and again if needed. "There are two tenants in the mansion. Ms. Brown has given them a lifetime estate on the rooms they occupy." He tells you. "Meaning they live there for as long as they wish."

"O—okay..." As fast as your mind can possibly turn, you still feel like you can't quite keep up with it, and you end up curled up at the foot of your bed hugging the throw blanket that was still in your hands when your phone rang. "So...I just...get a mansion? And twe—twelve million dollars? And the only caveat is that I have two tenants?" None of it makes any sense, but you'll be damned if it doesn't sound like the perfect way out of the hell that you've found yourself in.

“Pretty much.” Antonio agrees. “When would you be available to tour the property and sign some paperwork?” He asks, flipping over to his calendar to pencil you in.

"I—" Stumbling again, your forehead drops onto the pillow clutched against your chest before you tip your head back and stare up at the mottled ceiling. "I guess...as soon as I can get there?" It's not as though you have anything else to do at the moment. Or even anyone to tell where you're going. "But, can I ask? Um...where exactly is this house?"

“Newport, Rhode Island.” He supplies. “I must confess that I could not find a current address for you, just this phone number, so I am not quite sure where you are traveling from.

"Dandridge, Tennessee." Six years you've lived in this town and it never felt like home, but maybe now that's for the best. With a sigh, you try to think if you've ever even heard of Newport, Rhode Island and come up entirely blank other than knowing that Rhode Island is in New England. Which is a pretty decent drive away. "It might take me a few days to drive up there. Maybe two days? Depending on how late into the night I drive."

“That’s fine.” Colette agrees. “I will give you my number. If you find yourself here quicker than you anticipate, give me a call and I can meet you with the keys.”

"Okay." For a second the brief fear that your car might not even last a two-day drive flashes through your mind but you push it aside and let out a sigh in favor of sitting up to grab the pen off your nearby desk so you can take down the lawyer's phone number. "I...um...thank you, Mr. Colette. This is..." It's insane. It's completely insane and you can't even wrap your head around it. "It's life changing."

“I will see you in two days.” Mr. Colette responds and then ends the call before he sighs. Dropping his head into his hand, he rubs his temple. Whoever you are, he feels sorry for you. No way you know what the hell you are getting into.

******

The first night you're honestly exhausted, and you end up sleeping in your packed-full car behind the twenty-four-hour diner with the really nice waitresses that don't get upset that you need a safe place to park for one night. Telling them that you're moving had done the trick, and the extremely kind pair of women had gotten their line cook to whip you up a sandwich for dinner and one more to take with you when you left town in the morning.

The gps on your phone – thank god the bill is in your name – says that it will take thirteen hours and thirty-seven minutes of driving. Deciding to go, go, go as best you can, you leave town at sunrise and end up crossing the border into Rhode Island at almost eleven that same night. Stopping for bathroom breaks and to gas up the car – plus traffic, of course – has cost some time, but you made it. Now all you had to do was make the last leg of the journey out to Newport. Surprised to find that Newport is actually on an island (didn't you learn at one point that Rhode Island isn't an island?) you pull into a truck stop to finally sleep for the night. You'll do the last forty-five minutes of the drive in the morning.

******

Feeling and probably looking like shit the next morning is the price you pay for getting here quickly, but you call the lawyer at nine in the morning when his office's website says it opens and arrange to meet him at the address he gives you. Bellevue Avenue just sounds fancy, and when you get to the island you realize why. This entire town seems filled to the brim with mansions, expensive shops, and swanky restaurants.

Antonio had been surprised that you had driven through the night, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. He gives you the address to his offices and tells his secretary to make sure that there is a good selection of bagels and muffins out this morning in case you would like something while you go over the paperwork. You are a very important client, and he would like to keep you if possible.

Tired and more than a little ragged, you pull your car up to the office on Thames Street and cut the engine with a sigh. There’s a lot of touristy stuff around, especially on this part of the island, and that means you haven’t seen a single dingy diner or fast food drive-up since you got here. Everything is expensive cafes and fancy restaurants. The thought that you might have to skip breakfast is discouraging until you walk into the lawyer’s office tentatively and smell coffee.

"Good morning." Raquel stands from behind her desk and smooths her pencil skirt down before she walks around the desk. Antonio and his partner prefer that she personally greet each client and she doesn't let her facial expression change from one of welcome when she sees the tired, beaten down appearance of the woman who walked into the door. Her heart clenches at the sight and even if you are not the client that he had been expecting, she will invite you to have some coffee and pastries while she waits for someone to work you into their calendar. "May I help you?" She asks as she offers her manicured hand to shake.

“I—I’m here to see Mr. Colette.” You give her your name along with the handshake she obviously expects, and try to shake the feeling that that smile of hers is probably plastered on. Of course it is. It’s first thing in the morning and she works in a law office.

"Of course." You are the important client, so she immediately waves you to the glass doors. "Please follow me." She tells you. "Mr. Colette is getting all the necessary documents together, but we have tea, coffee, bagels, and some delicious pastries available while you wait?" She wants you to feel comfortable as she walks you down the short hall to the smaller conference room where she had set everything up for the meeting.

“Thank you.” It doesn’t make one single bit of sense to you that they’ve gone through all this trouble, but this long-lost great aunt of yours must have been an important client. Maybe they think you’re important too? Well – they’ll be disabused of that idea pretty soon.

"Please let me know if there is anything I can get you." She senses that you aren't comfortable and she doesn't want to crowd you or do anything to upset you. "I'll let Mr. Colette know you are here."

There are a few minutes to wait, sitting in that conference room surrounded by food that you don’t dare touch, and you end up staring blankly at a photograph on the wall of a yacht on the ocean. It’s almost trance-like, how you sit there and stare, and you end up nearly jumping out of your seat when the heavy wooden doors open again and an elegant looking, well-dressed man walks through flanked by the woman who greeted you.

“Good morning.” Antonio smiles as he assesses the woman who had inherited a fortune and more. He is aware of the details of the will and the history behind it, so he feels like this is personal. “We will have quite a few things to go through, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to make myself a plate.” He chuckles. “No breakfast yet and I’m hungry.”

“Of course.” It’s a little bit like permission, and you feel comfortable enough pouring a cup of black coffee and putting a croissant on a plate for yourself when Mr. Colette motions for you to join him. In a few mere moments the three of you are sitting down at the conference table and Raquel presents her boss with a thick folder of paperwork in a leather sleeve and takes out her own notebook in turn.

“Now.” Antonio looks down at the paperwork and then back up at you. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He starts off with. “Hopefully this transition will be seamless for you and perhaps after this I can show you around your new home?”

“It still doesn’t feel very real,” you admit, carefully sipping your hot coffee and looking down at the papers in front of him. “And you said there’s two other people…already living there?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Family friends of Ms. Brown.” He tells you vaguely.

“Alright.” Already you’ve made up your mind not to bother them, these people who live in a house that you’re inheriting out of nowhere. Who are you to intrude in their lives? “I assume there’s a lot of paperwork? I’ve never owned a house before so this is all new to me.”

“The taxes and the maintenance for the home are paid out of the trust. So you do not need to worry about that. If anything happens, call and we will take care of getting the bill paid.” He explains. “I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering you debit cards and credit cards.” He pulls out an envelope and slides it over to you. “All of them are active and ready to use.”

So people really live like this, huh? is all you can think to yourself as the lawyer’s secretary also sets a card down in front of you that has a man’s name and phone number with the title of caretaker listed on it. That along with the cards already has your head spinning, but then a set of keys is set down on the table as well. Front door. Kitchen door. Terrace doors. Each antique key is labeled carefully with a tag in elegant handwriting. Closets. Attic storage. Utility closet. It’s so much to take in — too much, arguably — and then a set of car keys is added to the pile. “What’s this?” You ask, already starting to feel your head spin a little.

“This is the car.” Antonio tells you. “The 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray that Ms. Brown also willed to you.” He hums. “I have all the maintenance records for the car here as well. Her other cars were sold or given away before she died, but this one conveyed with her other belongings to you. I believe she said, ‘it goes with the house’.”

“I—um—wow…” Not that you know much about cars, but it sounds impressive and you’re momentarily thankful that you’ve been driving stick for the last few years, since your broken-down third-hand Volvo came into your life. “Are there any more surprises I should be aware of?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you will consider surprises.” The lawyer chuckles and slides a scrap of paper towards you. “The combination to the safe. It’s where the collection of Ms. Brown’s jewelry is.”

A safe full of jewels, a presumably fancy vintage car, a mansion, and a literal fortune? Frankly, it’s all a surprise. “If this house comes with servants I might black out,” you warn jokingly, staring at the slip of paper with the safe combination like it’s a foreign language.

“Well, the staff is paid from the trust.” He tells you seriously. “If you wish to make changes, please let me know. Right now….” He shuffles some papers. “There is the housekeeper and her assistant, the gardener, the pool company, and the window washer.” He looks up. “The pool company and window washer come by once a week. The gardener, the housekeeper and her assistant are all full time employees.”

The dead pan stare you have for the man is completely slack, and it takes far longer than you’re proud of to shake off the embarrassment of staring at him like an imbecile. “You’re serious?” You ask in equal parts confusion and awe. “I was kidding.”

“I assure you, the help is needed.” He tells you seriously. “A house of this size could not possibly be managed by one person alone.”

“Right.” The best you can do is nod vaguely and try not to have a panic attack over the responsibility landing in your lap, and you look between the lawyer and his clerk again. “You said it’s…eight bedrooms?” That place must be a palace…

“That is…the main bedrooms.” Antonio admits. “That doesn’t include the old servants’ quarters, although they are not occupied now.”

“Fuuuuck…” Even mumbling under your breath is obvious, and the paper that is slid in front of you is a clearly labeled blueprint of the house. Four floors, distinctly marked 38,000 square feet, and with more doorways, closets, and stairwells than you can shake a stick at.

“I can understand that it is overwhelming, but the staff is prepared for your arrival.” You look panicked and he doesn’t think that’s a good thing. It’s almost as if you feel…guilty.

“Can I ask…?” Swallowing down the dear at how daunting all of this feels, you abandon your small breakfast and sit back in the uncomfortable padded chair you’re seated in. “Anything about Ms. Brown? What did she do? How did she pass?” Where did all her money come from? The fact is, you had never even heard of her, but she left you an entire life.

“Ms. Brown died at 91.” He’s a little surprised that you are curious, but you don’t seem to be the type of person that is overly greedy. “Complications of old age.”

“I see.” Jittery fingers curl the edge of one page and you bite your lip, trying to see if anything doesn’t fit. But it all seems to knit together properly, in a way that just accidentally benefits you in the craziest way possible. “And she was just…independently wealthy?” It seems unlikely considering your family has so little, but who knows? Anything is possible.

“Some of it was leftover from her wealthy soulmate.” He admits. “They never had children. Some of it was from investments. She was a smart lady.”

“She must have been.” It’s easy to just waste money, you’ve seen that firsthand too many times. “Well…I assume I need to sign things? Make the ownership…official?”

“Absolutely.” He cracks a small smile. “Sign your life away, is the saying.”

Raquel slides a stack of papers over towards you. “All the places for you to sigh are indicated with a tab.”

A dozen different signatures and initials go by like lightning and before you know it, Raquel is excusing herself with the stack of papers to make copies and file things away. “Is there…anything else?” You ask, tentative about what else there could even be.

“Nothing that I can think of.” Mr. Colette hums. “I had the housekeeper stock the pantry and kitchen with basic items.” He tells you.

“That was very kind of you.” Since you aren’t really sure what else to say, you take a determined look at the pile of keys in front of you and muster a smile. “Would you mind showing me the house? The drive was long and it would be nice to settle in.” The further you get from Derek and his reach, the better off you know you will be. Even if you had loved him as best as you could — it had never been enough. Maybe these next people won’t be too disappointed in you. Not the way he was, at least.

“Of course.” He would make sure that you are comfortable before he turns you loose on the house. Or perhaps abandoning you to it would be a more apt phrasing. “Whenever you wish to leave here. I’ve cleared my schedule for the morning.”

“There’s no time like the present, I guess? I can follow you in my car.” You have half a mind to ask if the other occupants will be there, but you can’t see how he would possibly know that so you put the question aside in your mind.

“Of course.” He can’t think of anything else that needs to be address. “We will file all of the paperwork with the probate court and you will be receiving new registration for the car and a title to the house in four to six weeks. Sometimes it does take a few months.” He warns.

“I can’t imagine I’ll need them with any kind of speed.” After all, you have no plans to do anything of importance. In fact, if you never do anything besides sit in your little corner of this town for the rest of your life and remain unnoticed by everyone, you’ll be happier for it.

“Well.” He hands off the papers to the assistant and stands. “Shall we?” He asks, motioning towards the door.

******

Even with the heavy traffic of downtown Newport, the drive from the Law Offices of Colette & Dupree over to Bellevue Avenue takes under ten minutes. You drive by a grocery store and a drug store on the way – both good things to know the location of – as well as numerous high end shops, restaurants, and cafes. There is a bustling town here and it looks like students, too. Young adults with stuffed-full backpacks wearing all manner of paraphernalia that reads Salve Regina University seem to dominate certain areas.

After what seems like dozens of affluent homes, Mr. Colette’s blinker turns on before one of many stone walls and turns left into a driveway. When you follow suit and drive through the front gate, you’re glad to be alone because the gasp you let out is audible. Chateau-sur-Mer rises up and peeks out from behind trees like a monument. More massive than you ever would have dreamed of, the stone-faced house points north with a beautiful, multifaceted landscape surrounding it in every direction. Three stories, with a beautiful back porch, and spires and a tower to boot, the house is offset by a gigantic weeping tree that you don’t recognize and an otherwise reasonably sized house in one corner of the property that seems utterly dwarfed by the mansion it otherwise guards. Caretaker, you remember after a second. There is a caretaker…and presumably that is where he lives? It’s just…you had already had trouble wrapping your head around it. But now that you see it? It’s just…beautiful.

The sleek Jaguar comes to a stop and Antonio steps out and turns towards the older, slightly perilous looking Volvo. He hopes that you will get rid of it, or replace it now that you have the means. He had watched it seemingly buck several times while stopped at traffic lights.

“This is it?” If your question sounds dubious, it isn’t meant to. Honestly you’re almost too flabbergasted to really wrap your head around everything. There are a few cars parked under a structure to the left of the house that you assume used to be stables, from the look of it. Now the small windows that show you inside give a peak at bumpers and break lights instead of manes and carriages. There are a half dozen cars inside that you assume must belong to the other occupants and the staff, with more empty spaces standing open before the gorgeous black and chrome sports car that you now hold the keys to. “I mean it’s…it’s so much room. I’m almost glad there’s other people who will be around a lot.”

“The property is safe.” He assures you. “There’s a surveillance system that you can access and a security system that nothing in the world can rival.” He chuckles at his own joke and motions towards the house. “Shall we go inside?”

“Sure.” Not that you understand why one little old lady would need such a hardcore security system, but you nod anyway and let the lawyer – your lawyer? – lead the way. The house looms, almost daring you to come inside, but you are faced with an ordinary carved wooden door when you actually get close.

"It was built in 1852. Or completed in that year." Mr. Colette tells you as he takes the large keyring from you to unlock the front door and hands the keys back to you with a small grin. "It was once considered a ‘cottage’." He scoffs. "Although I tend to think of something a little smaller as a cottage."

“This is about four cottages all stacked on top of each other.” Walking through the front door cloaks you in near-darkness immediately. When your eyes adjust you stumble up a half-dozen wide marble steps into a front hall that grows up and up and up into an atrium taller than any you’ve ever seen before. The staircase behind you looks like it belongs to the set of a BBC drama and the thick red velvet curtains hanging in the entryway feel more like an old proscenium theater than a house. But the warm carved wood everywhere and colorfully painted forest scenes on the walls are immediately cozy in their own right. “Oh wow…” Your eyes are wide as you look around. It’s…it’s stunning.”

“Any changes you want to make, you are perfectly able to.” The lawyer reminds you, although he couldn’t imagine wanting to change anything about this estate. The mixture of Victorian and Gilded age architecture is a perfect combination to make a gorgeous house.

“I really don’t think that will be necessary.” After all, people already live here. The last thing you want to do is intrude on other people’s lives. “So this is the Great Hall, I guess?” The floor plan that Raquel gave you at the lawyer’s office is going to end up being invaluable, you think, as you pull it out and inspect the drawing of the first floor.

“Yes.” While he’s happy you don’t want to change anything, your tone makes it sound like it would be rude to do so. “The kitchens have been completely remodeled, modern appliances, but they still kept the charm of the rest of the house.”

“And that’s…” You consult the floor plan when there isn’t an obvious appliance anywhere in sight. “In the basement?”

“It is on the lower level.” Guiding you into the house, he explains. “Heat caused by the kitchens was unwanted so after the kitchens being in a different building fell out of fashion, they decided to make sure the kitchen was in the basement to keep the rest of the house cooler during the summer months. There’s the elevator over here, if you wish to use that instead of taking the stairs?”

Mr. Colette motions to the left of the main stairwell, to a portion of the first floor with red and black patterned flooring, and down a hallway. Curious enough to be led around by the suggestion and also noting that the floor plan in your hands says Servants’ Hall for this portion of the house, you follow him tentatively and watch him open what appeared to be a regular closet door. Instead there is a metal grating behind it, which is also opened, and a carved dark wood elevator car stands waiting for you. The kind of thing that would absolutely get you killed in a horror movie, it’s surprisingly sturdy when you step into it and Colette closes the door and gate easily. He presses the ‘B’ button before you can even ask about stairs and the antique elevator jolts to life, headed downstairs.

“Don’t worry,” he sends you a reassuring smile. “The elevator is safe.” He listens to the clanking and feels the carriage start to slow down.

The basement of this house is not like any basement you’ve ever been in before. The enormously long hallway with red and black flooring identical to the hall upstairs seems to stretch and stretch, and there are more doors down here than you could ever fathom needing. But there are voices coming from a room just a few yards away and that is both comforting and nerve-wracking at once. Other people means you won’t be lonely, but it also means new needs, new demands, and potentially new people to disappoint.

“Mr. Colette?” A woman’s voice sounds, loud and clear with a thick Rhode Island accent, from the room and only half a second later a tall, slim woman with gray and silver peppered through her brown hair and glasses attached to a beaded chain appears in the hall. “We weren’t sure when to expect you,” she says with a thin smile. “And this must be the new owner.”

“Yes.” The lawyer who has spent many hours in this house smiles at the housekeeper and waves your forward. Introducing you by your first and last name. “This is Marjorie Taylor and Renee Green. They are the ones who keep the house sparkling and the linens fresh.” He explains. “Mrs. Taylor would also cook for you if you would like.”

“I insist on it,” Mrs. Taylor informs you, smiling in a sort of polite-but-curious way and she shakes your hand when you offer it. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” When you falter and repeat your first name, thinking that maybe she had forgotten it or something, she shakes her head and gives you that same amused, thin-lipped smile. “There are a couple of things we stay old fashioned about here,” she tells you. But leaves out that the contract she signed with the rather suave gentleman who hired her specified it. “I’m Mrs. Taylor. This is Renee. The caretaker is Mr. Taylor, and the gardener is Mr. Finchley. The whole staff live in the caretaker’s cottage on the grounds and we are always reachable except for our day off each week. The schedule is written out for you. I left it on the desk in the library along with the necessary phone numbers and other important information.

“You’re very thorough, Mrs. Taylor.” It comes out with a note of surprise and you drop your eyes to the floor, embarrassed. “I mean — thank you. It is very much appreciated.”

“It is my pleasure.” She assures you with a soft smile. “It will be good to have people in the home again.” The others that were here kept to themselves and were often not around.

“I’m just one person,” you assure her, as if to say that you won’t cause trouble or get in the way. Those were things that Derek accused you of far too often. Even if it is the job that these people have taken on — the job not cleaning and cooking and taking care — you would never want to be a burden or a strain on them. “And…I tend to be fairly low key.”

“Well, I hope that you will let us take care of you.” Mrs. Taylor hums. “We have been delighted to hear that you had been located and were coming. I am sure that we will find a way to rub along together.”

“I’m sure.” You say, trying to smile and be reassuring. These people seem to be expecting a boss, not a wallflower, and that isn’t what you are. “I’m very glad to have gotten the call.” That, at least, is true.

“Would you like breakfast after the tour?” She asks. “I can have a tray brought up to whatever room you choose, and Mr. Taylor would be happy to bring up any luggage and boxes you have.”

Renee nods. “I would be happy to help you unpack.” She offers.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” You protest immediately, but both women give you such placid, polite smiles that you swallow your anxiety about butting into the house and replace it with fear of being rude. “I—I mean…thank you. That actually sounds very nice.”

“Our pleasure.” The elder woman assures you. “Perhaps later on, once you have settled in, we can go over your preferences.” She tilts her head. “For now, do you have any food allergies I should make note of?”

“None.” Just as soon as you shake your head though, something in your gut churns and the smell of Derek’s cheap beer somehow overtakes you out of nowhere. It’s like a sense memory you never needed, and you stammer inelegantly. “But I—I, um…I don’t drink. Alcohol, I mean.” You did before. A long time ago. But seeing what it did to the man you thought you were going to spend your life with has ruined it for you. Soulmate or not, you had really thought Derek was the one. But his one comes in a can.

“Yes ma’am.” If it sounds odd to her, she doesn’t make it visible, just nodding politely. “I will make sure you have a nice tray sent up, I know you will be tired from travel.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.” “I’ll show our new resident The call buttons after she chooses a bedroom, so you’ll know where to bring her tray.” Colette assures the housekeeper with a smile. “We’ll just head back upstairs.”

“Perfect.” She smiles at the lawyer. “Oh, Max and Eddie aren’t here right now, so if you show her their rooms, just go right in.”

You thank both women again and follow Mr. Colette back upstairs, where he motions to the left of the hallway where the elevator is hidden and you end up in a room that is wall-to-wall cabinets. There are beautiful serving pieces and sets of China in those cases, as well as stunning crystal and glassware. If you ever throw a Victorian themed dinner party, it looks like you’ll be all set for dishes.

“The preservation society on the island has been itching to get their hands on this estate.” Antonio muses as he slows down to let you take in the vastness of the collection. “Ms. Brown always enjoyed thumbing her nose at them.” He chuckles quietly. “I believe that you would have liked her. She was a firecracker.”

“She had great taste.” There is a set of China in the cases that you keep coming back to — the intricate gilding and beautifully painted flowers utterly mesmerizing you for a few moments. There seem to be three different full sets of China here and two full sets of glassware. Every different size dish or glass you can think of is here.

“Now it is yours to keep and use however you wish.” He reminds you as he moves towards the display of real silverware.

“I think it’s actually harder to wrap my head around that now that I’m in the house,” you admit, trying for a laugh and just sort of letting out a huffed breath instead. On the floor plan, the door to the left of you is marked Butler’s Pantry and that seems like someplace you shouldn’t go. To the right, though, the plan says Dining Room. “This way next?” You guess? The door looks innocuous enough — it’s just a dining room. It can’t be that crazy.

“Wherever you would like to go.” Antonio insists as he pushes open the swinging double doors silently. The large dining room table with the massive set of three chandeliers dominates the room.

The gasp from your lips has you pretty sure that you’re going to be saying “Wow” a hell of a lot in this house, and every room just makes the feeling grow. From the forest green walls of the dining room outfitted with ornate carvings in dark wood – to the silver painted walls of the ballroom with its six foot high mirrors and gilt relief work on every wall panel. A parlor room off one end of the ballroom is all decorated in green silk fabric – even the walls – with clean white accents. Beyond that is a hallway with a stained-glass ceiling and a white marble floor that is decked in red leather sofas and contains huge white marble statues and paintings on the walls that are nearly life sized. The library is the most ornate yet, with carvings on every single wooden surface, lush carpeting and sitting space, and even a hidden door built into one bookcase. “Where does that go?” You ask immediately, too tentative to open it yourself.

“This, I believe, goes to the morning room.” He tells you, cocking his head as he thinks. “It has been some time since I have completely gone through the house.” He admits.

“Is it okay to go through? I mean the house is old but it’s not so old that it’s unsafe, right?” The idea of a door in a book axe is too good for anyone to pass up, especially you.

“Absolutely.” Antonio pulls the leaver to open the door. “Ms. Brown and her soulmate would spend quite I bit of time in this room. I believe it was her favorite.”

The middle section of the bookcase pulls toward you smoothly, allowing you and Mr. Colette to pass into a large corner room with enormous picture windows on two sides and built in bookcases on every other wall. Like an extension of the library there are books everywhere, a red leather windows seat that matches the sofas in the marble hall, and even intricate wooden shutters that close over the windows in sections to regulate how much light is let in. One side of the room is dominated by a large fireplace with yet one more large mirror set in the wall above it, and there are small statues all along the mantle. A billiard table takes up most of the space in the middle of the room, but a table and chairs and a desk also fit neatly with plenty of room to move.

“This house goes on forever,” you observe with a laugh of disbelief.

“It is one of the larger cottages.” He agrees. “In fact, it was the largest house until the Vanderbilts built the Breakers.” He imparts that little fact with a smirk as he looks around the room. “But I’ve always been fond of this estate.”

“It’s beautiful.” Having seen it up close and personal, you can imagine that photos don’t do it justice. It must seem crowded or busy in pictures. But in person? It’s like the house is hugging you. After another minute looking around the morning room, you follow Colette back out to the entryway and head upstairs. There is fabric, not wallpaper, hanging on the walls around the master staircase and it is painted with a forest scene that seems reminiscent of folk tales. Like magic could be lurking behind any corner or a satyr just might come out from behind a bush. There is a tree painted on the underside of the enormous staircase, trunk and branches extending upward to sprout leaves and welcome birds, and it crawls all the way up the stairwell to extend out to the ceiling of the second-floor landing and atrium. Dozens of little painted songbirds light on branches everywhere to make you feel like you have climbed into the forest that is painted on the walls.

“Every room has its own theme.” He explains at the top of the stairwell looking down the hallway at the doors. “If you don’t mind. I will step away to make a call.”

"Of course." Far be it from you to stop him from attending to his business, and you follow along the railing in the hallway to make your way into a different hall. This one is just a rectangular room with the now familiar built-in cases along the walls, paintings and intricate light fixtures above the cases, and six doors to choose from. To open them one by one seems like a massive intrusion, but you can't figure out any other way to see what else is up here. The floor plan marks four bedrooms on this floor as well as a sitting room and a nursery, though you can't understand why there is a nursery if there were never any children living here. Maybe your great-aunt and her soulmate wanted children but just could never have them? That's a far sadder thought than you can muster at the moment.

Hoping that you're facing the right direction, you open the door on the opposite wall from where you are standing and – yes, you had it right – the sitting room is full of plush chairs and love seats with a petite fireplace that has a huge flatscreen television over it where you assume a mirror once stood. The fireplace has a small stand inside it that obviously prevents fires from ever being laid, but more importantly seems to be the storage rack for multiple video game systems. Whoever Max and Eddie are, these other occupants of the house seem to thoroughly enjoy video games.

To the right of that room is a beautifully laid bedroom with honey colored furniture and homey gray and white pinstripe wallpaper. A writing desk stands at the ready between a window trimmed in lace curtains and a white marble fireplace, and it feels like exactly the kind of room that you would love to be brought to if you were a guest in someone's house. As much as it is sweet, inviting, and unexpectedly friendly, it feels…spoken for somehow. It’s nothing you can describe fully, but it makes you think that you shouldn’t disturb the room. Like whoever had claimed it originally might still come back one day to curl up in that bed or sit down at that desk.

There are two more bedrooms – one with furniture made of a wood that is somehow remarkably the same shade as roasted butternut squash and the other with a luxurious, if slightly gothic, yellow velvet and dark walnut loveseat and red upholstered chairs in it that all beg to be read in – but both rooms very obviously are occupied. These must be the rooms that Max and Eddie claimed whenever it was that they arrived. The next door to the left of Max's room yields a large, airy bedroom decorated in all sorts of shades and textures of blue with dark wood furniture and soft pink silk and lace curtains over the windows. A painting of a smiling young woman hangs above the fireplace with two lamps in the shapes of cherubs holding the light source aloft. Two cream-colored chairs sit by a small table and two more blue velvet chairs flank another. You could have a whole party in this spick-and-span room without any effort whatsoever.

“This is the one, I see.” Antonio has returned. Lingering in the doorway as he watches you move from Knick knack to knick knack with an almost dreamy expression on your face. “Let me show you the call system.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’m afraid that I am needed in court.”

A set of buttons by the door to what you very accidentally have apparently selected as your room will summon a member of the house's small staff, Mr. Colette tells you, and there is a similar button on a handle by your bed, almost like the call button for a nurse in the hospital. "Don't let me keep you," you murmur, waving off another apology from the man who has literally swept into your life and changed everything about it. The last thing you want is to stand in the way of anything he has to do. "I'll, um...I guess I'll unpack."

As if on a secret cue, the door to the elevator opens on the other side of the hall and an ornate rolling cart, much like the ones at the posh hotels, rolls out. Your trash bags are all neatly stacked with the few boxes and the one bag you had managed to take from your ex's house. The older, stately looking man pushing it does not judge, his sharp eyes looking for the room where the new owner has decided to take up residence so he can help in any way possible. Renee is behind him, a fully ladened tray on another rolling cart.

You can hear them rolling down the hallway before you see them, and Mr. Colette smiles in satisfaction. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, looking toward the doorway as the source of the noise comes into view. “If you need anything, you have your staff here, and my number. Please don’t hesitate.”

“Right. Thank you, Mr. Colette.” As soon as you say his name he disappears from view, and you’re left face-to-face with the embarrassing sight of your trash bags in this gorgeous home.

“I took the liberty of moving your car into the carriage house.” Mr. Taylor tells you. In addition to being the caretaker, he also maintains all the vehicles here. Your car is in sore need of some TLC and he is already itching to get to it.

“That’s very kind of you. You really don’t have to go through any extra trouble.” The sight of garbage bags just feels wrong in a house this old and grand, and it just makes you feel like apologizing for that, too. “As you can see it…it really shouldn’t take me too long to get settled in.”

“It just means you can rest.” Renee offers with a smile as she rolls the tray over to the couches and table. “Here, ma’am?” She asks politely.

"Hopefully it won't take too long to find a new job." The offhanded and automatic thought doesn't even phase you, although you don't enjoy the fact that you'll have to explain why your last place let you go. At least you can assure them that it won't happen anymore – since Derek isn't in your life there won't be any erratic or unexpected phone calls to have to respond to immediately. "Thank you, Renee. It...it all looks wonderful." Laden with a steaming silver coffeepot and fresh pastries with butter, jam, and fruit, the delicate China on the tray looks like it has been laid for a queen.

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Mr. Taylor quietly excuses himself, and Renee turns towards the cart with an eagerness to begin. “Do you have some specific organization for your things?” She asks, hoping to know how you would like things. “Or shall I organize them for you?”

Even if you had specific organization, it would no longer apply to this house. The feeling that everything should be in a specific place and that rooms have specific functions is very different from how you were living before. "I'm sure you'll know just where things are supposed to go," you tell her, with a definite air of 'because I don't have any clue'.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods and immediately whirls around to start wheeling the cart into the dressing room just off to the side of the bathroom.

"Renee?" Following her just a few steps and sticking your head into the dressing room, you have to swallow yet another sigh over how beautiful this house is and how grand everything seems at first blush. You shake it away, though, when her head pops up expectantly. "I don't suppose I could ask any of you to call me by my name, could I? Mrs. Taylor seemed rather set on using a title..."

“It— it’s not done.” Renee admits with a bashful smile. “Although Mrs. Taylor did call Ms. Brown by her nickname at Ms. Brown’s insistence.”

"She had a nickname?" For some reason that intrigues you, even though she had an unusual name to begin with. You've never heard of a woman named Etienne before.

“Cookie.” Renee smiles fondly. “She went by Cookie for as long as she could remember.”

"That's very sweet." And actually makes you smile too, though you can't quite figure out why it warms you through the way it does.

“Do you have a nickname, ma’am?” She asks curiously. “I am sure that Mrs. Taylor would have no issue using a nickname for you.”

"I—" About to protest that you really don't, or at least that you can't think of one, a long-lost memory gets dredged up from the bottom of your mind that you haven't given any thought to in a long time. "I used to like being called Dolly. Quite a lot."

“Yes Ms. Dolly.” The nickname is no more unusual than ‘Cookie’ and the smile that thinking of your nickname is soft and real as it makes you light up.

"Thank you, Renee." It actually relaxes you measurably just to have a little bit less formality, and you offer the girl another genuine, if small, smile.

"My pleasure." She turns back to the bag that is opened and starts to carefully remove all of the clothes to sort and organize into piles before she can fold or hang them. "I should have all of this sorted in just an hour or so."

"Please don't feel like you need to rush. It isn't like I have anywhere to go." The fact that someone else is doing your laundry makes you more than a little embarrassed but you try to remember that it's literally her job. "But...again...thank you."

She doesn't bother to remind you that it's her job, just humming quietly as she continues to make note of what you have that needs pressing.

"Renee?" Even after you've walked away, you double back to look into the dressing room where she is sorting through the things you brought from Tennessee. "Was, this...um...was this Ms. Brown's room?"

"It was, Dolly." She stands up and moves towards the door. "Does that upset you?"

"I...don't really know," you admit after a moment of thinking about it. "I think it's more that...I don't want to disturb it? Like if she had a favourite chair, or painting, or lamp or something, then I wouldn't ever want to move it." Saying it out loud makes you sigh, and you huff a laugh at yourself. "That probably sounds silly."

Her own laugh is slightly ironic. "Please don't worry about that." She assures you. "Ms. Brown loved to rearrange her furniture based off of how she was feeling that week." She tells you. "It drove Mrs. Taylor up the wall, but she would almost insist on moving most of it herself. Even up until a few years ago."

"Wasn't she in her 90s?" You ask, surprised to hear anything so active about the old woman who had lived here.

"She was spry." Renee can sense that you are eager for information about the older lady that had lived in this house. "She did love to pull the chaise in front of the windows and read." She tells you. "Especially on rainy days where the storm raged outside. She would sit with a pot of tea or hot chocolate for hours."

"God, that sounds so relaxing." And in a house full of books, who could blame her? You can't even imagine actually having the time to read every book you saw in the house while you were walking around. " I might have to follow suit for a little while. Just...until I find a new job."

Renee frowns slightly and tilts her head. "A job?" She asks. "Are you someone who likes to keep busy?"

"I guess—" It hadn't occurred to you that you could just not have a job, and that makes you frown far deeper than Renee is at the moment. "I guess so? I didn't really think...I've just always had a job. I didn't really think I'd ever be able to not have one..."

"Perhaps you have something you enjoy doing?" She asks. "Forgive me for being so forward, but you have the means to do whatever you wish now, Dolly."

"I guess I haven't really given it a lot of thought." That makes you frown again, this one considerably more confused, and you shrug your shoulders. "I won't bother you anymore. Thank you, Renee." It's a heady thought to chew over while you eat your breakfast, but it's something that you're going to have to think about. What did you dream about when you used to dream of growing up? You can barely remember anymore.

She doesn't want to pry, so she nods again and turns back towards the dressing room again. It's obvious that you are kind of lost and her heart goes out to you. Hopefully being here will make the sadness in your eyes disappear.

______

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

My Masterlist!

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

[toomanyfandomsimfanvergent]

HII!!! I loved ur grayson hawthorne fic could you plss do another one like where they talk to eachother and its just fluff and really cute :) Like him doing romantic things and literally agreeing to everything she says

Grayson Hawthorne x Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I love getting to write for grayson. Tagging my Inheritance Games mutual @speaknowlinasversion

Reader Info: Female!Reader

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

"Do we have to get up?" You groaned as Grayson sighed. He had been trying to convince you to get up for the last half an hour.

You were sprawled across his bare chest, your hands playing with his hair. He was loving every second of spending the morning in bed with you. But, he had things to do.

He could easily move you off of his chest, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. He closes his eyes as you continued threading our fingers through his hair.

"Love, we need to," he said and you frowned. "But a few more minutes wouldn't hurt," he said and you smiled. God, Grayson was addicted to your smile.

He would do anything for you. From watching the same movie every Sunday night to kayaking (he refused to go with anyone but you, because he did not care for kayaking but he loved making you happy).

"You can't say no to me can you?" You asked with a smile and Grayson groaned. You both knew the answer. It was physically impossible for Grayson to say no to something unless it had the possibility of injuring you.

"I think you know the answer," he said. His blonde hair shone in the early morning light as the sun started peeking through the curtains.

"So that means we can watch The Hunger Games again tomorrow night?" You asked with a smile and he laughed.

"I would do anything that would make you happy," he said. And it was true. Making you happy was his favorite thing to do.

From picking up breakfast from your favorite cafe when he woke up before you to making sure Xander saved you a blueberry scone. Grayson did everything he could to make you happy.

Getting to see the smile on your face from the little things made everything in his life seem okay. Even when things were falling apart, your smile kept him grounded.

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fanfiction #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson hawthorne x reader #the inheritance games #inheritance games #jennifer lynn barnes

[mrswarnerxo]

❪ ✦ ❫ grayson’s morning routine.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: grayson hawthorne has a long routine for the morning; but his half-asleep-willing-girlfriend will make it all better.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, pet names, sleepy, female reader, forehead kisses, waking up early, swimming (are those even warnings?), use of Y/N, softie grayson (?)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1073

𝐀/𝐍: bro reader is me. also idk i saw this on a fanfic or like a headcanon with grayson but i forgot who made it?? TRLL ME WHO IT IS SO I COULD KNOW AND TAG THEM GRAHGG??

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✓

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle

grayson hawthorne has a strict morning routine. wake up at 5 to swim, swim until the others wake up, take a shower, get dressed, get coffee, and do whatever grayson does.

now, having a girlfriend who hates mornings, though, makes his routine have some… holes in it. though, whenever she said she wanted to do it with him, he couldn’t lie that he was happy with it.

“are you sure you want to wake up with me tomorrow, love?” he asks, looking at you nervously. you grin at him. “yeah, i’m sure. plus, i’m tired of not waking up with you in bed, so…” you trail off.

grayson lifts an eyebrow before sighing. “okay, but if you’re too tired to, just tell me and you could go back to bed, okay?”

“i know, don’t worry!”

now, you know that he wakes up early. but you never knew how early.

“love,” grayson says as he lightly shakes your shoulders. you groan tiredly, turning on your side. “Y/N, you said you wanted to wake up with me.”

“yeah, but i never knew how early…” you mumble, your eyes still closed. he chuckles lightly. “you said you wanted to, right?”

“mhm.”

“then come on.”

sighing, you blink your eyes open before rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you look up at the blond above you and hum.

you wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes again. “‘cmon, pick me up,” you mumble, digging your face in his neck. grayson tries to hide his smile as he puts a hand behind the small of your back and picks you up with him.

you wrap your legs around him as he walks to the walk-in closet and sets you down again.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes as grayson gets out his swimming trunks and your bathing suit. “do you want to swim with me?” he asks, looking up at you from his crouching position.

you shrug and say i don’t know with your mouth closed. he rolls his eyes at you, amused as he takes the swimming clothes.

you watch him as he takes his swimming trunks and walks into the restroom with them. you frown. you’ve already seen everything, why does he need to change in the bathroom?

but, you suppose that him sleeping without a shirt is a reward itself already. even though the reason why, was a whole nother conversation that you two already had.

soon, he comes back out with his swimming trunks on and you grab your swimming suit and walk into the restroom.

you tiredly—slowly—change into your swimming suit, the feeling of the fabric against your dry skin making you feel weird. of course, it’ll feel better once you're wet, but still.

you toss your dirty clothes on the wall, where a piece of it opens and takes the clothes before closing again.

you snort and roll your eyes. rich people. walking back out, you see grayson making his bed with two towels on his shoulder and if you were any other person, you’d find this weird, cleaning while he’s in his swimming trunks.

if you were any other person.

he spots you walking out and straightens his back, offering his hand to you. smiling—still tired, surprisingly—you take his hand.

he smiles back and takes you out of his room and to the swimming pool. he swims until everyone else wakes up, he told you. you wonder how long that exactly takes.

all of the rooms are still dark as he makes it to the swimming pool, sliding open the see-through door.

still holding your hand, he steps outside and to one of the pool chairs, putting down the towels on top of it.

you hum and sit on the chair, bringing your legs to your chest.

“do you want to stay here?” grayson asks, lifting an eyebrow at you. you nod at him. “i’ll go in later,” you say, making him form a little smile at you.

he was never one to smile, but he always does when he’s with you. it brings toy joy; especially when it’s a full-blown smile, one of those rare ones.

you watch as he gets into the pool and begins to swim, going from the end of the pool to the other end of the pool, swimming in laps.

you watch how his back muscles move as he moves his arms, his biceps flexing. you blink and look away from him before he can see you staring.

even though you two are official now, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed whenever he caught you staring at him.

especially in situations like this one.

it was a little while later when you got up from your chair and stepped to the edge of the pool. grayson glanced at you sitting down, before making his way to you.

he’s over there before you even got your feet in the water, putting his hands on either side of your thighs. you put your hands on top of his own and lean down, kissing his wet forehead.

he wraps his arms around your hips and puts his head on top of your chest, making you wrap your arms around his wet neck.

“do you want to come in now?” he asks, his words slightly muffled from your chest. “yeah,” you hum, moving your legs back and forth in the water, both beside his hips.

he nods and trails his hands down to your bottom, pulling you towards him before he backs away from the ledge, bringing you with him.

you squeal as you wrap your legs and arms around him, the cold water making you freeze. “it’s freezing!” you exclaim, squeezing your eyes shut. “jesus—how are you not cold, gray?”

he chuckles and kisses your forehead. “i’ve gotten used to it, flower.”

a few moments later after swimming, kissing, and hugging, avery walks out with jameson by his side.

“stop flirting and come eat. breakfast is ready,” jameson says, smirking at his brother. grayson glares at him and slowly brings you down from where you were.

you had tried to see how long he could not breathe from underwater, but of course, he had to try to impress you and was under there longer than he should have.

of course, he didn’t tell you that, though. after all, he needs to beat you in the pool games tomorrow—which, of course, he’ll never admit to liking.

#books #fanfic #fanfiction #grayson hawthorne #grayson #hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x reader #x reader #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the inheritance trilogy #grayson x y/n #grayson hawthorne x y/n #grayson hawthorne x fem!reader #grayson hawthorne x fem!y/n #grason x fem!y/n #grayson x fem!reader #belles fanfictions💋

[cherrys-writings]

Thankyou for replying so fast!can I request grumpy x sunshine dating hcs with grayson hawthorne where reader is the sunshine in the relationship?:)

Grumpy!Grayson x Sunshine!Reader

Thank you for being patient! Once things got rolling I may have gotten a little carried away, but we can never have enough Grayson Hawthorne

Sunshine Reader works at a nonprofit animal shelter. You happened to be working when Grayson came in to assess if the place was worth the foundation's donations 

Grayson being impatient with you at first, how could you not know he was the representative sent to evaluate the place for a grant from the foundation?

He couldn't help but admire your dedication when you ramble about animal personalities, way off track from his original question

Before you were together he thought you were stupid for being kind and optimistic all the time

He still doesn't get it

Grayson is slow to warm to physical contact

Calling him sunshine 

He loves when you touch his face, the way you run your thumbs across his cheekbones 

Telling people "he's smiling on the inside"

The easiest way to pull Grayson from his thoughts: nose boops  

Grayson pretends to be annoyed (he loves the little grin on your face but how do you always know when he's too in his own head)

Grayson being a Hawthorne, pulls out all the stops (kinda over the top and doesn’t know when he’s being too much)

You tell Gray that he’s all you want

He cries, how could he not? Someone he’s head over heels for chose him, told him that he’s enough

Everyone thinks the two of you are adorable

Cuddling touch starved grumpy Grayson, he never knew how much he needed it

He's practically addicted to cuddles

Teaching him to find beauty in the smallest things

In my head (and I hope this happens in The Grandest Game) Grayson builds a relationship with the Graysons (if you felt weird reading that I felt weird writing it)

Savannah having the exact same initial reaction Grayson did

Gigi being your cafe buddy

Attempting to tackle hug Grayson 

Dragging him along for walks on rainy days

Grayson giving in and walking without an umbrella because “it’s not fun with an umbrella”

Nash telling you it's like some part of Grayson has woken up since being with you

Everyone afraid of the absolute murderous look you get when he says Eve keeps trying to contact him  

Both of you give flowers to each other

Grayson confiding that he hasn't felt this happy in a long time 

"Sugar, why are you crying?"

Reassuring Grayson they're good tears 

Grayson slowly being more emotionally expressive 

You convincing Grayson to volunteer at the shelter 

The Brothers welcoming you immediately

Teaching Gray that he doesn’t have to be constantly suspicious of everyone

Becoming besties with Libby, the level of sunshiness is almost too much for everyone

*******************

Got some smut and hurt/comfort in the works.

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grumpy grayson x sunshine reader #dating grayson hawthorne #anon ask #grayson hawthorne headcanons #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #avery grambs #libby grambs #the final gambit #the final gamit #the brothers hawthorne #gigi grayson #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader fanfics #the hawthorne brothers #fanfiction

[1989stanz]

Well, two days ago I promised a fanfic to you all, so it is here! It's a inheritance games fanfiction and I hope you enjoy it. I accept any type of criticism, but just don't offend me. Thank you! @aaal-iz-well @myster3y @myfairkatiecat @riddles-n-games@aria-1105 @formulalina15

Prologue:

Jameson lost a 911 and has to deal with his penance.

Disclaimer:

All characters are from Jennifer Lynn Barnes's book The inheritance games. None of them are mine! Mentions of Nash Hawthorne, Jameson Hawthorne, Alexander Hawthorne, Grayson Hawthorne, Avery Grambs, Gigi Grayson and Maxine Liu. There's some cursing and mentions of murder, but nothing serious. The author didn't deep dive in these two delicate topics. No spoilers and no smut!

English is not my first language! So I apologize for any mistakes.

(P.S.: I'm always open for fanfic suggestions.)

Words count: 17K (sorry for being so long. I just couldn't help it 😭)

Jameson was never the type of person you could call “phone addicted.” He didn't spend much time scrolling because he was always busy with his brothers, a riddle, or doing something that the police would certainly arrest him for it. As a result, charging his phone wasn't something that occupied his mind, that's why his phone died often. That's what happened on this day. He was in a phone call with Xander when suddenly his phone went dead. Letting out a sigh, he opened the bedroom he shared with Avery to search for his charger. The room was quite a mess, with clothes on the floor, in the bed and hanging lazily around a chair. It reflected the owners' minds: messy as hell, but still comfortable somehow. There was a colored cube on the floor he accidentally stepped on and kicked away as he continued looking inside a drawer.“Where is it?”, he thought.“I know it's here. I remember the last time I used it and I put it in this drawer. . .” Before he could properly finish his inner monologue, he felt IT before he heard or saw it. He felt it strong and passionately inside of him, and deep inside he just knew what it was. Someone was approaching—HER. He felt her presence almost all the time when she was around. His heart would just stop as a true and genuine felling he had never felt before her took over his entire body and soul. It was exaggerating to describe it this way, but every single thing he felt and thought about her was exaggerating. “Jamie?”, Avery spoke and, oh, he loved her voice, specially when she said the nickname his brothers gave to him. Nobody else beside them had the right to call him this was, but her? Just listening to his nickname set his blood and entire body on fire. Hungry. He was hungry for everything, even for her—specially for her. “Heiress?”, he finally turned around and his heart pounded faster when he finally looked at her and realized why she called him. Her eyes were gleaming—they were always so bright when they stared at Jameson's eyes—, a challenge that he couldn't back down on her face. He clearly wouldn't back down from anything she proposed. “Jamie.” Avery knew he loved when she said it, so she usually did it when she wanted his whole attention to her, and god-damn, she was wearing one of his shirts. She had never done it before, but it looked way better on her. She looked beautiful, he thought to himself. And he FELT how Avery had an enormous effect on him. Forget hungry. He was starving just for a piece of her.

Smirking, he said, “So, now you steal my shirts?”, his green eyes glowing more than ever.

“Only when I want to catch you off guard, like now”, her eyes told what she didn't: Avery was enjoying what she was doing to him. Of course she did, he was acting like a damn dog. They stared at each other and did not break eye contact as she walked up to him and pressed her lips to his. The kiss wasn't soft or slow. It was breathtaking, and when she pulled away, he wanted more. Forget the charger, it could wait, but his hunger could not. And probably the 911 call he received from one of his brothers could too.

Grayson would never admit, but he was terrible. Not physically, Grayson Hawthorne was at no time physically terrible. He always makes to sure to be looking good. But mentally? His mind and feelings were so awful that just “terrible” wasn't an appropriate answer. He was drowning in work—again—, swimming like crazy and doing anything that was humanly possible to stop his brain from echoing a name. Her name. So that's why he was standing again at the place Emily had died, so-and-so far from the ground. He had no equipment and wondered—again— what would happen if he jumped. Of course, it was just a thought, Grayson wasn't going to jump, but just the adrenaline that he felt with this thought kept his entire head quiet. Her name wasn't there for a moment. But moments didn't last forever, so that's why he decided to finally go back to the house.

Once he arrived, his whole body ached for something. Escapism. Her name was there again, and he knew a way to stop it. Grayson quickly took some turns around the house, and before he could even think about it, he was in the cellar. Without realizing, his hands grabbed a Tequila, took off the cover and his nose caught the smell of the liquid. Eve. Eve. Eve. Eve. He took a swing. Eve. Eve. Eve. He took another swing, this time longer than the other one, and… Nothing. It was calm. And he took more long swings. He hardly allowed himself alcohol, but in that occasion he drank it like his life depended on it. 

Halfway through the bottle, one thought broke through his shields: “You need someone”. That hit him, hard. But for one second he stopped taking swings and recognized the obvious: he was broken, drowning, but he didn't have to be alone. He had his brothers and Avery and, somehow, that was everything. Eve couldn't touch this, it was totally his and only his. His family. That's what they were. So he picked his phone from his pocket and only sent one message for each of his brothers: 911.

Nash and Xander appeared in a heartbeat and, for reasons he couldn't tell, his heart overflowed with love. He felt it warm and quiet on his chest for the first time in a very long time. Nash was the first one to look at him, raising one of his eyebrows, “So what's the deal, little brother?”. Xander whispered in Nash's ear, “He seems drunk to you too, or did the explosion I caused today already affecting me?” Grayson almost raised an eyebrow when he heard his words. That would explain his clothes that seemed to be set on fire. Instead, he chose to analyze the room he requested their presence. The gaming area was an enormous place full of all kind of games, physical games—like bowling—or just games that required thinking, like chess. Being more specific, Hawthorne chess.

After four rounds of Hawthorne chess and three Grayson's victories later, strip bowling was the chosen game, and he found out in the worst way possible that strip bowling wasn't for him. Nash didn't have his boots and his socks. Since his brothers demanded when they first played strip bowling that Nash's cowboy hat wasn't a piece of clothing, he was shirtless but had his cowboy hat on. Xander didn't have shoes and socks anymore, and Grayson…was winning. He didn't wear a coat, shoes, socks, and his shirt. But he was happy to be with his brothers…or at least two of them. Grayson turned away as soon as he noticed that Jameson wasn't there and asked, “Where's Jameson?” 

“Probably doing something very dangerous and assuming risks that could get him to have a meeting with God!”, Xander replied with a smile. Nash frowned his eyebrows, “I called him like 10 times, and he didn't pick up.” Wasting no more time, Grayson reached for the phone in his pocket and called Oren. The bodyguard picked up immediately. “Any problem?”, he asked, his voice calm and powerful and useless for someone like Grayson, who knew the word “power” like the back of his hand. “Where's Jameson? Is he in danger?”. He could hear the way the bodyguard shrugged. “No danger in sight, if you don't consider sleeping in Avery's bedroom a dangerous thing to do.” Jameson was sleeping, and it was almost offensive that he lost a 911, but then he realized. Jameson lost a 911, and he was going to pay for it like Grayson did. He smiled and turn off the phone call. “As much as I love to see you smile, I can tell where this is going”, Nash replied. Xander was amused, his eyes as bright as the sun. “So Jameson really lost a 911?”. They didn't answer, but instead the rest of the evening was wasted between plans and more plans for his penance.

1:00 am

Jameson noticed that he lost a 911 call, and he knew his brothers would come after him with a wicked plan. Surprised wasn't an adjective to describe his emotions when Xander appeared out of nowhere at night and started to play a trumpet. But furious and about to end Xander were appropriate words. “STOP!”, he yelled through gritted teeth, trying to cover his ears with a pillow. Nash put a hand on his little brother shoulder to stop him. “Enough, Xan. Enough.” Grayson was behind him, and Jameson could swear he almost smiled. Reluctant, he got up from the bed. “It's time for my penance.” It wasn't a question, and nobody corrected him. Instead, he just received a devilish smile from Nash. It was going to be a very, very long night. 

1:30 am

Max was spending the Christmas holiday at the Hawthorne house in her own wing, where his brothers dropped him. She smiled, a big and bright smiled that he almost feared. Almost. “Hello, little duck.” He snorted. “Not sure about being a duck.” She meant dick, but he chose to ignore it. “However. Just sit in this chair and let me do my magic.” He sat, and she covered his face in a really white foundation, drawing a smile with her makeup pencil, covering his cheeks a really shiny red. “I think I know what you're doing, but I better be wrong.” Max smirked, and he decided that smirking didn't look good on her. Actually, it was never a good thing when someone who wasn't him smirked. “I can't tell you. Xander made me promise.” 

“I think so.” And he let her finish, putting a blue wig on his head, covering his hair. Thrilled, she picked a small mirror on the desk, showing his reflection to him. “Do you like it?”. He was right indeed. Xander had asked his girlfriend for a clown makeup for him. She gave him a card with an address written on it as he left her wing. He was going to kill Xander. Suffocated, precisely. With his own damn wig. Opening the card, there was an address that he did not recognize:

Flower Boulevard Street, 89

P.S.: Gigi must drive.

2:00 am 

Gigi knew how to drive a car. Of course she did. At least that was what she told him before breaking all the traffic laws. Jameson wasn't a fan of laws and endless rules, but after this 30 minutes painful ride and almost dying more times than he could count, he was a new fan of the traffic law, apparently. She stopped in front of a building, some pop music blasting on the radio, his face so white that it looked like he was a ghost. After a few minutes of searching for his soul that clearly was lost along the way, his eyes analyzed the construction. He had thought about the worst places that his brothers would have chosen as a location for the evening, but a big and luxury hospital didn't cross his mind, not even once. But there he was, standing in full clown clothes in the hospital parking. Gigi grabbed his arm. “What are you waiting for? I thought you liked a challenge.” He did, and that's why he entered the construction.

2:15 am 

He managed to get lost inside the hospital, but that was way better than Gigi getting lost four times while driving 'cause she insisted on not using the GPS. After a few minutes, he founded his brothers. Unfortunately. “Wooow! He looks awfully amazing”, Xander shouted. “This isn't your best moment, little brother”, Nash laughed. Grayson just looked, without saying anything at first. Then he raised an eyebrow. “I think you lost something, Mr.Clown”, he told Jameson, pulling out leather pants from his hands. Not common leather pants, but THE leather pants. He was doomed.

2:25 am 

Out of all his brothers, Jameson was the leanest, but the leather pants still squeezed him really tight. It was almost painful, and he needed ten minutes to make them fit. “Comfortable?”, Grayson asked, enjoying this moment more than anything else. Jameson gave a Cheshire cat smiled, not giving him the satisfaction to see his discomfort. “More than ever, big brother.” Grayson smirked, and he wondered why everyone was suddenly smirking at him all the time. Nash leaned on the doorway, his cowboy hat hiding his smile. “Ready to put on a show, Jamie?” A show? What the actual fuc...”

“I have balloons!” Xander tossed three bags of balloons at Jameson's face, and he caught each one, his face marked with confusion. “Why do I need balloons?” 

“For the kids!”, Xander smiled, thriving. “There are some sad and unfortunate kids on this hospital that need some fun and joy in their lives, and you're going to bring fun and joy. That's what clowns do, isn't it, Mr.Clown?” 

He could feel the need to wash off all the makeup in the sink bathroom and take off his ridiculous clothes, including his fancy clown shirt. But he promised it to his brothers. Grayson had called and he didn't come. That was his penance. “Where are the kids?”, he asked. 

3:35 am

One hour and ten minutes later, Jameson was at the edge of a breaking down. Sure he could deal with one or two kids playing with his wig, trying to pull his clothes, licking his face when they thought he couldn't see, getting on the ceiling, screaming, crying, popping the balloons, trying to slap him, laughing and making jokes of him, swearing, running and so much more. But twenty? It seemed and felt like hell. He couldn't even judge the kids, 'cause little Jamie was worse than that kids. He looked at Nash after one of them spat on his face, “Please, Nash. Please stop this.” All three of them laughed, Xander more pleased with himself than ever. He had video every time a kid did something to him and threatened to send them to Avery. Jameson didn't even try to stop him, his little brother was going to show Avery one way or another. And he was mortified. “Please. It's been one hour. I can't handle more.” Jameson Hawthorne didn't beg, of course not. But he was about to get on his knees if Nash didn't look at him and decided that the poor boy had enough. “Alright, kids!” He shouted and all of them immediately stopped what they were doing, something that Jameson couldn't do. He felt jealous. “Form a line, so the clown can say goodbye to you all.” They said an audible “noooo”. Apparently, they liked to torture him. He went to say goodbye to every kid when they finally formed a line, some of their names carved on his brain as he passed. Brian. Yasmin. Joe. Kloe. Patrick. Pablo. Iago. . .

“Where's Iago?”, Kloe said, looking behind her. Jameson counted the kids and there were only 19 of them. Oh, hell. “Nash”, he looked at his oldest brother while he nodded, understanding what he meant with just one word. “Go there, Jamie. We'll stay here.” He took a glance at the kids. “So, how are we feeling about dancing?” They screamed in excitement. Jameson couldn't understand how he did it. 

4:05 

Where were this kid? Jameson had searched absolutely every god-damn room of the hospital, had warned the nurses, and they still had not found him. He couldn't help but remember when he disappeared as a kid. It didn't take a couple of minutes to find him, it took hours. Sometimes even days. He swallowed hard, thinking what would happen if Iago wasn't found. What if he was in danger? How would his parents react? What if he managed to get out of the hospital…

“Oh my god, Iago! Can you calm down for a second? You're going to spill my coffee all over the room.” He heard someone say in a room at the end of the hallway, stopping to look what was going on. Gigi trying to take Iago off of the ceiling with a cup of coffee in her hand. The scene was a one to be recorded, if Jameson wasn't freaking out. “Iago! Get off of there!”, he commanded, and surprisingly the kid seemed to hear. “I don't know”, Iago mumbled and he looked worried. Scared. That shattered Jameson's heart. He picked up the kid, careful to not let him fall or break the ceiling. “Thank you”, the infant wrapped his hands around his neck, not letting go. Gigi was very embarrassed. “I couldn't get him off, he didn't hear me.” Jameson was so confused on why she was still at the hospital, at 4 am, drinking coffee. But all he did was to shrug, “They don't hear me too.” And they walked back to his brothers only to found Nash dancing with them. God has favorites, he thought. 

8:00 am 

Ten minutes later they arrived at Hawthorne House and Jameson dropped dead on his bed. After taking off the makeup, clown clothes and the leather pant, obviously. But his body naturally woke him up at 7:45, and he couldn't get any sleep after that. And that's why he was on the roof when he heard steps. “You put out quite a show to the kids.” It was Grayson talking.“The hospital called, asking if you're going to visit again.” Not a chance in hell. He liked the kids—actually, loved them— but he couldn't handle them all at once. It was draining. Grayson knew it, that's why he was smirking, almost showing a smile. “You know”, Jameson started, “that I only didn't pick up because my phone had died?” It was basically his way of saying that, if he knew that Grayson was calling, that he needed him, he would appear in seconds. And he always would. Despite all the offenses, the teasing and the fights, Jameson would walk through hell for Grayson. He knew that, and Grayson would do the same. If all that it took to make him laugh, smile or to just take the weight off his shoulders a bit was to see Jameson dressed up as a clown, he would do it a hundred times. And he would do it over and over, no just because “that's what brothers do”, but because that's what you do when you love someone—you show them your love and loyalty. 911 wasn't just a simple code, it was meant to their brothers know how much they loved and appreciated each other, even though sometimes they have a hard time telling or showing it. Jameson knew the meaning behind this simple code, and it would kill him if Grayson thought that Jameson didn't care for his older brother. They all cared for each other, that's what made them the Hawthorne brothers. Not just the DNA because, when you grow up between the Hawthornes, you couldn't care less for biology. “I know,” Grayson replied, and his tone gave something else. Of course, I know, but I won't go deep into it right now, he seemed to say. So they just stood there, watching the sun and enjoying each other's company, without admitting it.

#jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the inheritance games #xander hawthorne #best seller books #books and reading #fanfic #fanfiction #gigi grayson

[riddles-n-games]

Although I'm honestly not pushing so hard for a Grayson romance, if Phone Girl and Gray end up becoming a real solid confirmed canon couple, I have a suggestion for an AU: model and photographer. I don't need to clarify the roles, you all know who is what (although, I know Gray passes as one anyways).

#grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #phone girl #grayson x phone girl #au idea #the inheritance games fanfics #tig fanfiction #the inheritance games fanfiction writing #fanfiction requests #the inheritance games #the grandest game #tig #tgg

[deansapplepie]

Inherited | Chapter 5

Summary: You go find Merle and end up drunk with him. Rick Grimes have to call Daryl to get both of you. With the alcohol come some confessions and

Warning: Mentions of Leah (Daryl’s not a cheater, just stupid), alcohol consumption, drunk people, mentions of drugs, mentions about sex, Daryl and his lack of knowledge about technology, very small hangover, lil bit of jealous Y/N. Minors DO NOT interact 18+

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,166

A/N: Sorry for taking too long, but the ones that follow up the things I share know how my life has been. Thanks for your patience, love you all.

Series Mastelist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Why d’ya hate me?

Days passed and he didn’t say a word about the picture or Merle. You also didn’t find it in the trash, so you considered he kept it. Your conversations were simple and plainly about business, from time to time of course you’d throw a bitter comment at each other. 

That day you didn’t see him around, he had gone hunting and didn’t even bother to tell you. Well, it’s not like he had to, but you lived together and it’s good to know where the people you live with are, for safety, what if the person is murdered or kidnapped and nobody knew where this person went? 

You spent the whole morning doing some work for Aaron as you promised, by lunchtime he still didn’t have arrived back at the farm. ‘Fuck him’, you thought. You were also going to leave and you’d not tell him. You took your bag and the keys of the old truck, and left to do what you should’ve done days ago. 

You took the old road going deeper and deeper into the woods. You were surprised you still remember the way, because when you started this journey you were afraid you’d get lost. Soon, you were parking your car in front of the Dixon’s cabin. You got off of the car and walked to the front door. ‘I hope Merle is here, and sober’, you thought. You knocked on the door, once, twice, 4 times and after 15 minutes you gave up. There was two options for Merle, 1 he was passed out after drinking and/or drugging himself too much, 2 he was out at town. So you decided to bet on the chance that he could be in town. 

You drove your car on the streets, hoping to see him in one of the bars and you weren’t wrong. You found him just where you thought he’d be, at a bar. You parked the truck and went inside the bar to see your old friend. 

“I knew soon or later ya’d come and look for me doll.” Merle said before you got close to him. “What took ya so long?”

“Your asshole brother, I guess. And of course, now I have a lot of job to do.” Once you got close to him, he engulfed you in a tight hug. A so welcome and familiar hug, damn Dixons knew how to give a good hug. You missed it. “How have you been? Your brother wouldn’t tell me a thing!”

“I’m busy during the week, working on some… business and hunting too.”

 ‘Oh Merle, you’re still involved in this kind of business?’, you thought.

“Don’t you get tired of seeking trouble?” You ask him, already sitting next to him.

“I’m not looking for trouble, I’ve been busy and there’s some years that I don’t get arrested. At least not for the things you’re thinking.” He defended himself.

“Still a hot head and getting involved in bar fight, ain’t you?” You know this was probably the reason.

“It’s making wonders to my friendship with my favorite officer Grimes.” You laughed, you knew him and Rick were far from friends, they mostly despised each other. Rick was probably tired of arresting him and having to call Daryl every single time.

“You’re really something Merle.” You missed his lame jokes too. You wish you had come to see him earlier.

“How’s baby bro?” Merle asked and suddenly the small cup of alcohol he had in front of him became very interesting. “He’s not talking to me. Since ya returned. Guess, I should blame ya.”

“Not my fault. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, I’ve been trying to make things easier between us, but… I guess it’s impossible. We can’t have a conversation without being dicks.” You said honestly, it really annoyed you all of this, and you had always found a good listener in Merle. “But… answering your question, he’s the same grumpy ass and I think he’s still pretty much affected by everything that happened to my dad. He always locks himself in his own shell, and it’s difficult to get past it. You know how he is.”

Merle nodded but didn’t say anything. “I think you’re right, it’s my fault he’s not talking to you. He mentioned I’m good at telling you things and talking to you. Because you opened your big mouth to scold him for the things I told you.”

“And I dun regret scolding him, he deserved.” He was a stubborn ass, he would never admit it.

You asked for some beer and appetizers and continued to talk with Merle. “He hates me Merle…”

“Pffft… don’t be dramatic no one could ever hate ya sweet pie!” Even drunk he managed to be nice to you, many times you got caught in your thoughts thinking why he couldn’t do the same for other people. 

“He does...” You said, and then started bickering your beer. 

You wanted to talk to Merle about the idea you had of him working in the farm with you, but of course you had conditions for it. He was already a little tipsy when you arrived, you preferred to call to him sober – if it was possible – so you took the afternoon to drink and talk to him. 

The afternoon soon became evening and some hours later old John Lee wanted to close the bar and go home to rest and see his wife, but Merle and you were passed out in your table. The poor man had no option but to call Sheriff Rick Grimes to help. 

From all the people in the world, you were the last one that Rick would think that would have to make him need to come to a bar to solve a problem. He took his phone and called Daryl, after what seemed like an eternity he answered it.

“Wha’ did he do this time?” It was late, for Rick Grimes to call at this hour, it had to be Merle causing problems.

“Not exactly him… he’s here, but he did nothing. Y/N and him are passed out at Lee’s. He needs to close the bar. Can you come and take them?” He drawled, his hand passing on his jaw, a little bit worried.

“Do I have a choice?” Daryl asked to no one in particular, he didn’t need an answer. “Gimme 15 minutes, and I’ll be there.” 

Shortly after he got to the bar, he speeded so much that he didn’t even need 15 minutes. Your truck was parked in front of the bar, so he’d need to use it to take you back home. He wasn’t prepared to see you and Merle passed out. Your head resting on the older Dixon’s shoulder, while his head was hanging behind and he didn’t even seemed to be uncomfortable with it.

“ ‘m sorry…” Daryl apologized to the old man, it wasn’t the first time he had to apologize to him, it wasn’t the second time either.

“It’s ok kid. The young lady seemed like she needed to drink and a good conversation with a friend.” John Lee said and moved his head in your direction to indicate he was talking about you, even though it wasn’t needed.

“Hm..” he grunted he didn’t want to stop and think about what the man said, because if he did his line of thought would remember him of all the reasons you had for it. He took his wallet and asked the man what they owned him and paid it, like he always had to do when he needed to come for Merle.

“Why did she drink like this? It doesn’t sound like her drinking this much.” Rick asked Daryl in curiosity, of course he had already seen you drunk, being silly, happy and dumb, but never passed out drunk.

“Yer guess is as good as mine…” he answered and Rick gave him a look that said ‘you don’t think I’m going to believe it.’. He went to you and looked if you had a bag or anything, nothing. Just great, the keys were probably in your pocket. 

“Y/N…” he called you, you just hummed in response. “Y/N, where’s the key?” Nothing. Freaking fucking shit. He didn’t want to be a creep and shove his hand in your pockets. “Ok… I’m gonna look in yer pockets and gonna take it, al’ight?” He said as if you were going to understand a thing in your state.

Once he found the keys he took it as fast as possible from your pocket and threw it at Rick so he could open the car for him. Daryl took you in his arms and stiffened when he felt you snuggling against his chest. Damn, there was a long, long, looong time he didn’t have you in his arms, and your smell it was still the same. If it wasn’t weird and against everything he had been saying and doing, he would allow himself to burry his face in your hair and smell it. He took you to the car and sat you in the middle of the sit, fastening the seat belt before he went back to Merle.

“Merle! Wake up!” He commanded and kicked his brother’s foot slightly. “Com’on sleeping beauty, I’m not carrying ya to the truck!”

“Do ya wanna some help?” Rick asked, by the looks he knew Merle wouldn’t cooperate.

“Think so…”

Rick helped Daryl taking Merle to the car and once everyone was settled, he left town with the two drunks and praying his baby, his bike, wasn’t stolen or harmed until he came to take it home again. The drive was long and silent, he had a lot of time to think about all sorts of things. When his thought came to you he tried to put them aside, but your head that had fell on his shoulder wasn’t helping it at all.

Once he arrived at the farm he took care of Merle first, despite the older Dixon not being able to keep his eyes open, at least he cooperated a little with his legs not letting all his weight fall on Daryl that was supporting him inside the house. He took Merle to his room in the basement and almost regretted it the moment he tripped on the stairs and the two almost rolled it. He put his brother in his bed and didn’t even bother to take of his shoes or anything and left to take you from the truck. 

He had to carry you once again, this time you were a little bit more conscious because you wrapped you arm around his neck. You inhaled his scent and it brought a comfort to you while he carried you to your room, but it also made you remember that you shouldn’t, deep in your subconscious you fought a battle that not even yourself had any idea. He kicked the door of your room open, put you in bed and worked on taking off your boots. He checked you one last time and when he was leaving, he was surprised by your hand yanking his pulse and his name been called, taken by surprise he fell on his ass on the mattress a few inches distant from you, and he needed to be grateful for it because it spared him from the embarrassment and probably crushing and hurting you.

God damn, what could you want from him at this time and in your state? He looked at your face and you had your eyes half open. “Why? Why d’ya hate me?” You drawled, your southern accent showing up in your drunk state, since your brain was relaxed and you didn’t have to worry about masking it. You knew you didn’t need to mask it anymore, but the trauma you had with the other kids made your brain being in constant alert even when you didn’t need to.

He was taken aback by your question, it shouldn’t surprise him, you were 24/7 bickering at each other, but he didn’t have a strong feeling like hatred for anyone, except Shane, Dwight and Negan, but they didn’t count. Most people hated them too, maybe not Dwight but… “I dun hate you.” He answered. You had hurt him, but he had not gone easy on you and after that he said so much worse. Despite all the anger he felt inside himself and all the mean things he had  told you, part of him didn’t know if he said it to torment you or to punish himself.

“So, why…?” You asked again and he was almost ready to say one more time he didn’t hate you, but you spoke first. “Why did ya sleep with ‘er?”

He was taken aback, what were you talking about? He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone. Were you drunk hallucinating? “You could have fucked any girl, we weren’t together… so, why her?”

“What are ya talking about? I dun understand. Yer drunk, go to sleep.” He said trying to free his arm from your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Leah… why her? I was going to call ya, I wanted to apologize, but that photo… it killed me.” Fuck. He had just slept with Leah once. After she showed him a photo of you and Aaron at uni. She wanted him to be mad at you, nobody knew you had broken up, he hadn’t told it to anyone. Until that moment, when he faked indifference and announced you weren’t together anymore. He didn’t think about it. He was 19 and stupid, and he had sex with her one time. But which photo? “Ya knew she hated me. Why?”

“I was stupid, stubborn and dumb. That’s why.” He said, he could see your eyes shining, the indication of tears. He caressed the hand that held his arm until you relaxed and he could release it. “Which photo are ya talking about?” He asked, gosh he really hoped you were too drunk to remember it the next day.

“The one… the one she posted on facebo..” and you had fallen asleep, as easy and simple like this. Facebook? Damn, he never had one. He hated all that social media shit. Probably that’s the reason he never knew about. He put a blanket over you and swiped 2 lonely tears that came from your closed eyes.

He headed downstairs and entered the office, turning on the computer. He took his phone from his pocket and called back to the last number that had called him.

“What the fuck, Daryl? Do You know what time is it?” A sleepy Rick complained on the other side of the call.

“Ya call me late at night to pickup my drunken brother from time to time, ya own me.” The cowboy argued.

“ ‘kay, what do you need?” The sheriff asked impatiently.

“How the heck do I make a facebook and how can I see the photos someone posted?” He threw the random questions that got Rick even more confused.

“You own me an explanation after this, and I want the whole story. Wait a minute…” The sheriff said, then covering the speaker of the phone, his voice resonated through his house. “CARRRL!”

The following morning you woke up with a stinging pain in your head, the sunlight that came through the window almost blinding you. You sat on the bed and felt your stomach aching. How did you end up like that? You just remembered being at the bar with Merle, drinking and… nothing. Everything was a blur. Did you drive back home in your drunken state? Impossible. No. 

You got up from bed and took care of yourself before heading downstairs. When you entered the kitchen you saw Merle at the table and Daryl in the kitchen. “ ‘morning…” you said weakly damn, you should never drink like this again.  “Merle, what are you doing here?”

“I had to pick your two stupid asses at Lee’s. Merle, I’m always expecting this from him, but you…” he said pointing his finger at you, a dishrag on his shoulder and a spoon in his hand. “It was as very unexpected, even coming from you.” 

You sat and looked at him, finding very funny the whole scene. “Ok, mom. I’m not doing it again.”

“Listen here, ya little shit…” he started to say, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that he was actually behaving like a mom.

He turned back to the stove and put 2 bowls of chicken noodles soup with veggies and eggs. He put the bowls in front of both of you. “What’s that, Darylina? This isn’t breakfast.” Merle complained.

“It’s a noodles soup. Carol said it’s good for hangover, eat.” He said and went back to take a bowl for him, that wasn’t his usual breakfast, but no way he would do any other thing.

You looked at him, squeezing your eyes as if you couldn’t see things clearly. Since when did he listen to anyone’s advice? And was he this close to Carol that she went giving him advices like this? Did they get drunk together? “And what does she know about it?” You threw the question before your could close your mouth and keep the words to yourself.

“She’s a mom, mom’s know this things.” He answered as if it was obvious and sat at the table to start eating.

“Her daughter is 15, Daryl. She doesn’t get drunk.” You said taking a spoonful of the soup.

“We got drunk the firs’ time with less age than her, so I ain’t understanding your point.” He answered. If humans snarled, you would have snarled at that moment. Damn him and his necessity of being always right. “Take yer soup, and stop talking.”

“As if you’re the boss of me…” you muttered, but he preferred to ignore it and eat. Were you jealous of Carol? No, he shouldn’t think about it. The day before had already a lot of happenings to make him think about.

Merle silently observed both of you having your little argument. If he wasn’t busy with the food, he’d have to comment that you still had the hots for each other, but instead he chose to eat while he had free entertainment. That was a good way to start his morning.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Inherited Taglist: @angelbunny222 @lightningyummy @maggie-atwood @ryoujoking

#daryl dixon x plus size reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #twd daryl dixon #inherited twd au #deansapplepie

[angrywerewolfbeliever]

I wonder if jlb ever reads fanfictions of her work

#the inheritance games #the final gambit #avery grambs #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #fanfiction #jennifer lynn barnes

[deafchild2000]

Inheritance Character Profile: Alyssa Chang

Full Name

• Alyssa Chang

BORN

• January 25th, 2012 (Michigan, Age 16)

STATUS

• Alive 

OCCUPATION

• Student

• Midnight Falls Coven

TITLE(S)

• Xiao Nüwū (Little Witch/Sorceress) (by her mother)

• Sweet Flower (by her father)

• Aly, Lyssa, ChangBang, A (by Harmony)

• Shortfuse

• Aly

• Miss Chang

SPECIES

• Witch

GENDER

• Female

FAMILY INFORMATION

FAMILY MEMBERS

• Andrew Chang (Father) †

• Daiyu Chang (Mother) †

SUPERNATURAL INFORMATION

SIGNIFICANT SPELLS

• Pigmentation Spell (on Lizzie and Josie)

• Doorway Sealing Spell

• Pyrokinesis (on Hope and Lizzie)

• Object Linking Spell (on the Ascendant and Dana's Prison World)

• Linking Spell (various)

• Prison World Banishment Spell (various)

• Prison World Transportation Spell (various)

• Memory Wipe Spell (on Emma)

• Illusion Spell (on the Ascendant)

• Disillusionment Spell (on the Ascendant)

• Moratorium Spell (on MG and Kaleb)

• Astral Projection Spell

• Breaking Enchantment

• Sleeping Spell (on MG)

• Golem Creation Spell (with Harmony and Penny)

HAIR COLOR

• Black

EYE COLOR

• Brown

Alyssa Chang is a witch and member of the Midnight Falls Coven who first appeared in the first season of Inheritance.

Early History

Alyssa has a complex and complicated history. In December of 2020, it was initially believed she accidentally blew up her childhood home in Michigan, leaving her and her stuffed elephant untouched while her parents were killed, leaving her orphaned. Shortly after the incident, Dorian Williams and Alaric Saltzman arrive and ask her if she would like to become a student at the Salvatore Boarding School for the Young & Gifted, a school for special children with unique abilities. Alyssa agrees, but her time at the school is not without problems. When she arrived, the students at Salvatore whispered and talked behind her back before she's gossiped and whispered about being responsible for her parents' deaths - which she can't defend herself from and was forced to accept. However, she's befriended by Harmony Marshall, who doesn't believe the rumors and thinks she's innocent, and by extension, Penelope Park, whose skeptical about it.

But unbeknownst to everyone, she didn't kill them, but they were killed when an evil spirit attacked her family, and a Bixie - a Chinese mythical creature hiding in a talisman inside Mr. Wrinkles, her stuffed elephant - protected her in the process of vanquishing it. She swore to keep its existence a secret and talks to it when she's alone in her dorm.

Even with friends, the rumors get to her and she retaliates. She instantly begins causing tensions with other students, particularly Lizzie and Josie Saltzman, who are regularly subject to her unstable behavior. She initially struggled with opening up to Harmony and Penelope, especially the former, who was determined and succeeded in gaining her trust (via gifts, celebrating Chinese holidays with her, respecting her culture, and incorrectly - but good intentionally - attempting to share holidays with the Nguyen Triplets). They formed the Midnight Falls Coven because she didn't feel anywhere, her explosive reputation made her a bit of an outsider, and she was always a part of some drama happening at Salvatore (something she shared with Penelope and Harmony). Alyssa displays bouts of empathy when Harmony was going through issues with her mother and her nefarious deeds in Mystic Falls, encouraging her to keep their relationship (to love her but not live by her examples) or her depression and Souls were brought to the brink of suicidal tendencies, she stayed by her side and tried to help her. Because of this, she and Penelope are the only students (outside Henry Benoit and her twin, Hope) she reveals her identity as "Harmony Mikaelson". In return, Harmony helped her return to the remnants of her family home for closure and recover a surviving picture from the explosion.

In February of 2026, when Hope created a hybrid and got suspended, Harmony stayed behind to keep an eye on the newly-turned hybrid. But when he went missing from the school grounds, Alyssa stayed behind to keep an eye on the situation while Harmony went back to New Orleans. And when her mother went missing, she tried to use whatever resources she had to help the tribrid get her mom back. And when Hope ran away with Roman Sienna, Alyssa found something of his that Harmony used with Dark Magic to find them. And when it was revealed that Hayley died, Alyssa joined Bonnie Bennett in traveling to New Orleans to be with an emotional yet volatile tribrid. She had to return to Salvatore afterward but kept in touch as best as she could. When she learned Bonnie was now her best friend's legal guardian, she and Penelope did whatever they could to cheer up Harmony (ie slandering Hope, partying, spellcasting). However, she realized that the main issue was Harmony missing Hope and told her that missing her didn't have to be reconciled if she didn't want to. She sympathized yet was angry with Hope for bringing distress to her best friend's life. She became mutual acquittances with Dana Lilien, who Harmony befriended and became her unofficial manager.

In December of 2026, a clash with Josie Saltzman revealed that Lizzie was responsible for the school blaming her for her parents' deaths and the whole school isolating her before she arrived. Reeling in anger from the revelation, she threw caution to the wind and linked Lizzie to her notebook to cause an explosion that sent her to the emergency room. Eventually, she was found out and Alaric talks with Emma Tig about sending Alyssa "away" — a euphemism for sending her to the 2018 Prison World — however, Emma disagrees. Instead, they offer to wipe her memory to give her a fresh start, an idea to which she agrees. Over time, Alyssa's behavior improves, and Emma tells her that they no longer need to have weekly therapy meetings.

However, after Harmony nearly died of alcohol poisoning, she helped her recover from time lost in school and covered for her when Harmony started doing violinist performances as "Conchordia".

When Spring Break of 2027 came around and Penelope left for Europe while Harmony left with Bonnie, she started a friendship with Jed Tian, a werewolf & Alpha to the School Pack, who bonded over their having no one to spend Spring Break with. When it was over, all three friends found themselves in happier moods than they had before they left.

Personality

Alyssa is a Salvatore School student, a witch, and an infamous instigator of drama among her peers. Snarky, intelligent, and egotistical, Alyssa is the main character in her mind, and never backs down from a challenge or misses an excuse to show off.

However, behind her strong facade lies a sensitive girl whose been through a lot. Assumed responsible for killing her parents, her support network was little to none had she not been friends with Harmony and Penelope. The burden and guilt of carrying the weight of a wrongful accusation lie on her as well as keeping the secret of her protector's existence hidden & hiding in plain sight. After gaining true friends, she struggles to match the loyalty she was given with her secrets and insecurities.

Alyssa is incredibly committed and loyal to those who know her and she cares about her. She's also a lowkey hopeless romantic who is "always falling in love", considering she has a Friend with Benefits relationship with Jed and had a crush on Harmony once.

She believes in justice yet is very vengeful. All the burdens she carries and gossip left her to form a fighting spirit that, while giving her a less-than-stellar reputation, created an explosive temperament that no one wanted to deal with. This leads to her choosing to harm Lizzie by spreading the lie of her killing her parents.

Physical Appearance

Alyssa is a beautiful young woman with shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes. She has an athletic build and a somewhat short stature. Her outfits consist of preppy, vintage styles with a flair for vintage jewelry, especially pearls.

Name

• Alyssa is usually derived from the flower alyssum. It means "alyssum" or "sanity".

• Chang is the pinyin romanization of the Chinese surname 常.

Trivia

• Alyssa is the first student to make a broom levitate in physics class.

• She's Chinese-American but sparsely speaks conversational Mandarin.

• Alyssa is incredibly proficient in linking spells.

• She practices Feng Shui and some of her parents' etiquette, such as shoes off in the house (or dorm).

• She has a stuffed elephant named Mr. Wrinkles.

• ⬆️ Mr. Wrinkles is a host to a Bìxiè, a female Pixiu (a Chinese mythical hybrid) that was been passed down from family members to protect the next generation of witches. It's also responsible for protecting Alyssa the night her parents died while fighting off a powerful evil spirit.

• When Alyssa first arrived at Salvatore, everyone knew of her parents' deaths and assumed she killed them, leaving her isolated from her peers.

• ⬆️ It revealed that while Alaric, Dorian, and Emma initially believed this, they had wanted to keep what happened sealed until it got out before she arrived.

• ⬆️⬆️ It would later be revealed that Josie found out and told Lizzie, who was responsible for telling the school that she killed her parents before she arrived.

• Harmony Kenner, the first friend Alyssa made at Salvatore, was the only one who didn't ask if she kill her parents. Penelope didn't really care, supposedly.

• Harmony once teleported Alyssa to her house in Michigan, where she recovered her mother's bracelet and a surviving photo of them as a family.

• This is confirmed later on when Hope, pleads with her not to be responsible for more death, which triggers Alyssa to sever the link (and sends those inside the 2018 Prison World to Dana's Prison World) in anger and reveals she didn't kill them.

• In 2024, Alyssa (in 6th Grade) had pneumonia during Witch Week while working on a parade float.

• ⬆️ This caused Lizzie (4th Grade) to get sick and miss Spring Break, which she blamed on Hope Mikaelson, which resulted in her humiliating Harmony.

• Alyssa's house exploded and her parents' died in December of 2020.

• ⬆Coincidently, Alyssa used a linking spell on Lizzie and her journal in December of 2026.

• Her favorite color is purple.

• Alyssa has a vase full of violet, origami flowers that were given to her that are enchanted to smell like real flowers.

• Alyssa can't stand the idea of people disregarding their families and will tell them to be grateful.

• Alyssa is one of the four people trusted with Dana's Prison World.

• She's a secret hopeless romantic at heart.

�� She dislikes the Saltzmans for their attitudes and blames them for a lot of wrongful situations she's endured.

• Alyssa and Jed made a pack that if either of them weren't married at 25, they'd marry each other and start a family.

#legacies #the vampire diaries universe #the vampire diaries #legacies cw #alyssa chang #inheritance fanfiction

[murtagh-thorn]

More Traveling with Murtagh Headcanons (staying at an inn together edition)

Please be aware that I haven't read Murtagh's book yet (haven't been able to afford it), so no spoilers please! Enjoy!

Bad weather forces you and Murtagh to abandon your camp on the ground and make for the nearby town with an inn for the night – and neither of you can deny warm food, drink, and a roof over your heads sounds lovely.

Of course, he’s an absolute gentlemen as you two scurry through town, holding tight to your hand so as to not lose you in the crowd and make sure you don’t slip in the mud. He grabs your hand instinctually and seems a bit embarrassed when he realizes. He’s halfway through an apology when you only cling tighter to him as he tries to pull away, and you didn’t realize anyone could be that red aside from Thorn.

If you don’t have a good cloak to keep you dry (or even a cloak at all), he insists you take his, even though he’s getting drenched. At best, you could convince him to hold his cloak over both of you like an umbrella (do those even exist in Alagaësia? Who knows but suspend the disbelief here) until you get to the inn’s door.

No matter how safe the inn looks inside or how demure the patrons, Murtagh still sticks to you like glue, just in case (especially if you’re fem or a bit on the physically smaller side) to keep away “unsavory characters,” keeping a gentle hand on the small of your back or your shoulder the whole time to the point that you two keep getting mistaken for a couple and eventually give up trying to stammer out an explanation.

He keeps acting like he’s avoiding your gaze, but you keep catching his stare.

If the two of you are separated or you finally convince him you can look after yourself, lord help anyone that tries to flirt with you. If you asked for space, he’ll honor your request, but is glaring a hole into the back of the other person’s head.

If this person is giving you trouble, he materializes by your side and puts himself between you and the perpetrator, telling them to back off. If they still refuse, he puts a hand on the pommel of his sword as Thorn growls low, but clear in the distance enough to make the whole room rattle before the innkeeper steps in.

Yes, this is the tropiest of tropes, but I don’t care Lo and behold, of course there’s a limited number of rooms available that all only have one bed. Murtagh of course, being the gentleman he is, immediately offers to take the floor with the bedroll he snagged downstairs – even if he’s sick or injured. Depending on where the two of you are in your friendship, you either can’t convince him to take the bed with you at all or he begrudgingly agrees.

Cue the “I mean, but if you’d rather the floor, I don’t want to force you – ” “no, that’s all right, we can…um…,” “I mean, you can have the bed and I can take the floor if you want – ” “No, we’ll both just…this is fine.”

If he refuses to share and you get stubborn enough to climb into his bedroll while he’s in the washroom, he’ll come out with a sigh and simply carry you back to the bed.

If he does share the bed with you, he’s very stiff and tense while he lays with his back to you and refuses to budge.

Of course, he insists on taking the side facing the door.

If you wake up in the middle of the night, you can catch him spooning you and snuggle into him a bit more before falling back to sleep. On the flip side, if you snuggle into him, he’ll sleepily relax and lean against you with a small, contented sigh.

When it’s time to leave in the morning, he of course lets you sleep in while he quietly gets your packs ready and gets some breakfast from downstairs, even bringing it to you in bed after gently shaking you awake. You wake up with your hair suspiciously tidy and can’t help but wonder if he was playing with it before he woke you.

When Thorn confirms this later in the day via teasing comment that you happen to overhear, Murtagh of course, is not amused.

#inheritance cycle #the inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle x reader #inheritance cycle headcanons #inheritance cycle fanfiction #murtagh #murtagh x reader #murtagh morzansson #murtagh morzansson x reader #murtagh headcanons #murtagh imagine #murtagh fanfiction #murtagh morzansson headcanons #murtagh morzansson imagine #murtagh morzansson fanfiction #my writing

[yourlocaldragondealer]

Do you ever just think about saphira? like she hatched out of her egg and immediatly had the responsibility of an entire world placed upon her shoulders and had to hide like half of the first book and after that, still a child, she had to fight and claw her way through life bc she was made a war hero before she even started pecking on her eggshell. her time in carvahall is a dusty memory. she needs to learn and train and learn more and train more and then fight and fight and fight. dragons are born for fighting. they are not born for war. do you ever think that maybe after they leave Alagaesia, shes flying over the talita the entire day but shes restless at night because shes so used to flying and clawing until her muscles burn and her tongue doesnt taste bloody enough and she wakes up because eragon is having a bad dream or a flashback and his fear is her fear. dragons dont get flashbacks, when they win they just carry on with more pride. but for a moment shes back on the battlefield and sees somebody wounding her rider and thinks hes going to die and she freaks out. and when she collects herself she feels ashamed because shes a dragon. shes wiser than that.

Like i feel like theres a whole part of her character that never got explored bc she was always so "wise" and collected and this really strong, emotionally unbreakable character (theres very few scenes she actually seems devastated and its when somebody dies). We always only see her comforting eragon but nobody comes out of war that unscathed, theres no way she isnt traumatized. but its never addressed - similar to how there are very few scenes with eragon openly struggling/being overwhelmed with the responsibility of having to save a kingdom and fight a war at sixteen. but that kid is so emotionally detached it actually kinda makes sense. Saphira is more aware of her emotions but she still never seems to struggle with a lot of internal conflict (except for being the last female dragon which i get but its only one of many topics that i feel like should have been addressed). we see her even kind of enjoying fighting and in a way i get it, dragons like hunting and have a lot of bloodlust and stuff but theres just no way eragons moral dilemmas never got to her. shes still a more than decent person and i wonder if she ever feels ashamed for her nature but knows she needs to be strong for eragon so she just doesnt tell him.

idk i just think it would be very interesting to know whats going on inside her head, since we only got to see it like once or twice.

#i have to say to this that i havent read the cycle in a while so its likely ive forgotten some stuff #but i still feel like im right on this #also after leaving alagaesia? she cant just have gotten over her friendship with firnen after one time rubbing their heads together #they clearly grew close #and still we only see her comforting eragon about arya #so i feel like theres definitely more going on inside of her than what shes telling #anyways imma go and write fanfiction about it now #saphira bjartskular #saphira #eragon #eragon and saphira #inheritance cycle #christopher paolini

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 11

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very comfortable,” you assure him quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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