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wardenparker · 2 years

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Close Encounters of the Toothy Kind

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: *Reader has a nickname right up front.* Evan being his whiny self. Alcohol consumption but no one’s judgement is impaired. Light power dynamics, biting (blood is drawn), oral sex (female receiving), hair pulling, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, monster fucking, rough sex, vampire kink/fetish. Summary: The company Halloween party is way more fun than you ever expected - even if your coworker and roommate Evan doesn’t think so. Notes: Happy Spooktober everyone! This little fangbang has been brewing in our minds for months now and it turned out even better than I ever dreamed! Smothered in pop culture references and plenty of cheeky fun. 🎃🧡🧛‍♀️

Ever since Max Phillips was in high school, he knew how to throw a party. It helped get him laid both there and later on in college. Even throughout getting his MBA and graduating, his attention to detail for having a good time led to some of the most memorable parties on campus. It was something he considered a little extra that he had to offer a company beyond the normal impressive résumé. Because in order to throw a great party, you had to know what people wanted. You had to read their wants through the small conversations and the body language of the person.

It was also useful in closing deals and impressing clients. Which was why he had pulled out all the stops tonight in the annual Halloween party. It wasn't just a sad, alcohol-free punch and those horrid cookies that Zarabeth makes. This is impressive. The smoke machines and black lights contrasted the disco balls that twirl overhead giving the event a truly spooky vibe.

"You'll see, Cat." Evan looks around nervously, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin under your elbow as he propels the two of you forward into the "East Ballroom" swallowing as he takes in the decorations. "I'm not crazy. Max is a vampire."

“Ev, it’s okay to just not like the guy.” Evan is an okay roommate. He really is. He’s clean and doesn’t cook horrible food, and he’s even handy with a toolkit when things need a little TLC. But this crusade he’s been on against your boss is just insane. Pulling at your tight Camp Crystal Lake t-shirt and smoothing your short shorts, you’ll be the first to admit that you took the easy way out with your costume this year, but Friday the 13th camp counselor was just too good to pass up. The Halloween store in town even had knee socks with Jason’s hockey mask on them to go with your Keds sneakers. “Let’s just have a couple of drinks and hang out. Maybe not get weird over your obsessive hatred of our boss?”

"I'm telling you he's a vampire!" Evan hisses, the cords in his neck bulging and he doesn't understand why you don't believe him. He looks around and groans, rolling his eyes and pointing. "He's even mocking it. Look at him." Max smirks as he watches you and Evan at the entrance of the ball room. Evan looked panicked and pale. He wonders if the poor schmuck is still trying to convince everyone that he's a vampire. It is so much fun to watch him freak out like the obsessive little turd that he is and push everyone away with his theories. Amanda had finally dumped him for good and started dating Andrew, which was a much better prospect for her in Max's opinion. He takes his eye off you and checks the buffet table again. The caterer that he had chosen had promised him that the canapés would all be haunted and ghoulish and so far they hadn't disappointed.

“Oh hell yeah, Lost Boys!” You grin, seeing the costume that Max has expertly pieced together. Max Phillips might be a frat boy and occasional asshat, but he has an attention for detail that has to be admired. And frankly? He’s ridiculously hot. A fact only enhanced by leather and eyeliner, in your opinion. Sure he’s a little obnoxious, so you just keep the fact that you have a little – okay, big – thing for him on the quiet side. Especially since your roommate despises him. “Evan,” you look at your roommate now, decked out in his Van Helsing costume like he’s in some kind of righteous crusade. “I am begging you to just let tonight be about fun and not this hyper focus.”

Evan rolls his eyes and gives you a disappointed look. "You're going to believe me." He promises you. "By the end of tonight, you will know the truth - Max Phillips is a vampire."

"I sure am." Max agrees easily, appearing at your side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "David from Lost Boys." He clarifies. "Glad you can make it Camp Crystal Lake Counselor." He doesn't waste the opportunity to look at your legs, you've got them on display after all and you aren't on company property.

"Max." Evan greets him through clenched teeth, furious that he's touching you.

“Evan made me a name tag,” you tell Max with a grin, pointing to the sticky Hi! My Name Is badge on your shirt that features your office nickname - Cat - and a little cartoon drawing of black cat beside it. “Nice party, Max.” You may keep your attraction under wraps, but that doesn’t mean you can’t just be a generally nice person.

“Thanks Kitty Cat.” Max sends you a small wink and looks around. “We’ve got a couple of our clients and potential clients here so I could get away with splurging. Plus, I love Halloween.” He smirks over at Evan. “All the things that go bump in the night come out.”

“Does that mean there’s good booze?” You ask, one eyebrow ticking up at Max curiously. Splurging on clients might mean there’s actually something tasty. “I heard a rumor about sangria or punch or something, but that might have been Elaine’s wishful thinking.”

“Ohhhh the Bloody Sangria is my own recipe.” He tells you with a grin. “There’s also Witches Brew, Poisoned Apples and Demon Juice.” He points to the bar where premixed cocktails are being poured up into glasses where the base is a skeleton’s hand.

“Sangria for sure.” That stupid exaggerated grin on Max’s face shouldn’t be charming, but he’s got vampire fang caps on his teeth and alright, maybe you had a little thing for Kiefer Sutherland as a teenager that the Lost Boys costume is playing into. To Evan you throw a pout, silently asking him to play nice before heading to the bar with Max.

“Make sure you get some appetizers too.” Max hums knowingly. “Those drinks sneak up on you and we don’t want you buzzed too quickly.” He catches the eye of a prospective client and pats your shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later, enjoy yourself Kitty Cat.”

“Come on, Ev.” You reach for his hand but resist when he tries tangling your fingers together, tired of repeating that you are not interested in him romantically. He’s a good roommate and a decent friend, but as a boyfriend? Not your type at all. “Drink with me, eat with me. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not touching anything Max could have corrupted.” Evan huffs, annoyed that you are so flirty with him. You need to just trust him.

“He’s not going to poison our clients.” Rolling your eyes at him is still playful, because you’ve definitely always thought of Evan as more of a brother than anything else, and you nod toward the bar. “I bet they have beer in bottles that Max can’t have tainted with his spooky vampire vibes.”

Evan blows out a sigh and dutifully follows you like a lost puppy, wondering how he can possibly convince you about Max. “Hey man.” Tim smirks and lifts the glass of alcohol up. “You came.”

“I had to drag him out of the apartment,” you tease, giving Tim a hug before slipping past him to the bar for a glass of sangria.

“Would you like an extra shot of Vampire’s blood in your sangria?” The bartender asks with a smile. “It’s a floater of blackberry moonshine.”

“Why the hell not. Go big or go home, right?” You laugh, cringing at the cliched phrase before you shrug your shoulders. “And a Bud Light.” The least you can do is grab Evan’s first beer for him, since you did drag him out tonight. Being convinced that some socialization that didn’t happen under neon lights with phone headsets attached to your heads would be good for him might not have been correct.

Evan looks around the room in jealousy, begrudgingly impressed with the party. Hating how this man took his job and was actually doing a bang-up job. He takes the beer from you and eyes it for a moment before he hears Max’s laugh across the room. “Fuck it.” He groans and puts the bottle to his lips.

“Atta boy,” Tim laughs before strolling away when he spies someone he wants to say hi to across the large room.

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” you agree with a grin. You just want tonight to be fun. Maybe get Evan talking to the new girl from Legal that he said was cute a couple of days ago. Anything to get his mind away from the vampire thing.

Max keeps an eye on you as he makes his way around the room. Partly because it drives Evan insane. He might have made a couple of veiled threats to change you next. But mostly it was because he was very intrigued by the way your tits look up under that t-shirt. He had plenty of fantasies about his counselors when he was younger and his grandma made him go to the sleep away vacation Bible camps in the summer.

******

The deejay they hired for tonight is doing an excellent job of keeping the energy up, and you walk past the table just in time to hear Deliah from HR begging him to play Thriller again, making you laugh as you hit the bar. This sangria is addictive and you lean back against the sturdy wood to look around the room while the bartender pours you glass number three. Evan has finally started talking to the girl from Legal and from where you are it looks like she might even be interested in him so you send up a little positive energy in his direction and sigh. Maybe now you can actually relax and find someone to dance with - a thought which feels slightly bitchy considering you know Evan would dance with you if you asked. But you’d like to dance with someone you’re attracted to, which seriously narrows the field around here.

Max chuckles to himself when he sees you going back for another drink. He slides up behind you, leaning over your shoulder to murmur in your ear. “Enjoying yourself, Kitty Cat?”

“Max!” You didn’t see him approach and definitely would have done a spit take if you had had a sip of drink in your mouth when he spoke. “Uh— yeah, actually. Your sangria’s really good.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” He purrs with a delighted smile. “I like the body of it.” He waggles his brows. “And the way that it sneaks up on you.”

“The body of the bloody sangria?” It’s dumb, and you probably wouldn’t laugh at it if you weren’t two drinks in and finding the 80s vamp look on him a little extra hot. “Har har.”

Max winks at you. “Planning on being the first victim of the night?” He asks, leaning in. “Or are you going to be the counselor that survives?”

“Oh, come on.” Leaning back against the bar, you toss him the same smirk you would give anybody in this situation. “Nobody wants to die first. I’m totally Final Girl material. Nancy Thompson, Laurie Strode, and me.”

“You sure?” He leans in and flicks your name badge. “Kitty Cat survives?” He hums, smirking at you.

“For sure.” The authoritative nod you give him when the bartender sets your drink down beside your elbow comes with a grin. “I’m not afraid of some big bad monster.”

“Really?” He flashes his fangs at you playfully. Everyone thinks they are fake but why would he do fake fangs when he has the real thing. “Not even a skipping beat of your heart?”

“Not even.” It’s a dirty lie because you’re a damn scaredy cat, but at the same time you do love the adrenaline rush of a scary movie. The fake fangs are more of a turn on than anything else, which is probably the real reason your blood is currently pumping.

“I think you’re lying.” He coos, leaning in closer and brushing his nose against your pulse. The smell of your blood is intoxicating, and he groans quietly.

“Rude.” You laugh, picking up your drink and nudging him with your elbow. Maybe it’s a little more flirtatious than you would ever be regularly, but this is outside of work hours, outside of the office, and it’s a party.

“Just honest, Kitty cat.” He chuckles, watching you take another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know why I let you call me that.” Yes you do. You absolutely know why. It’s because he’s hot as fuck. It had taken almost a year to accept being called Cat at work and then Max just rolled in and added kitty to it and you just let it slide. “Maybe I instinctively knew you’d have a killer sangria recipe that I’d want to steal.”

“Better than what I was going to call you when I first met you.” He confides with a cocky grin.

“Oh god.” You choke on a laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “Do I want to know?”

He snickers to himself and shuffles closer. Leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Pussy…Cat.” He purrs, making sure to emphasize the first word.

That…is not what you expected, and you definitely feel a very visceral reaction to Max’s breath on your neck. You can practically feel your panties drench at the implication that he might be interested in you, too. But that’s…that’s a stretch, right? It has to be. Max flirts with all the women in the office.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” He hums, wondering if he’s misread the subtle signals you’ve sent him.

“A little.” You have to admit that, as silly as it makes you feel when you tilt your head to look at him. “Surprised, I guess?”

“Why would you be surprised?” He lifts his brows, shocked that you didn’t know that you are a gorgeous woman. “Every man in this room would take you home if they could.”

“Maybe.” Shrugging, you take another sip of your drink before turning to face him fully. Whether it’s the booze or the atmosphere or the light-switch flick of a mood change, you’re feeling bold. “But I’m not interested in them.”

“And who are you interested in?” He asks, intrigued by who would be your taste. Surely not Evan, he’s heard him moan about you turning him down to Tim too often in the break room.

“Seriously?” It’s probably a good thing that he has to ask, it means you haven’t been too obvious at work. Although you kind of thought you were being pretty obvious right now. “I mean, don’t fire me over it, but…you…”

“Hmmmmm.” Max flashes you a wicked, fanged-filled grin. “That’s not something I would ever fire you over Pussy Cat.”

“That nickname is gonna stick now, isn’t it?” You can feel the heat in your cheeks, nerves and embarrassment rising right along with arousal. He’s looking at you half like you’re a fucking meal and half like something else that you can’t quite pinpoint but you’re fairly certain you’re going to enjoy.

“Yes it is.” He chuckles again. “But only when we’re alone.”

“We’re never alone.” More than anything it’s just pointing out a fact. Aside from the rare occasion that he has called you into his office, The two of you have never actually been alone. Maybe once you were the only two people in the break room at the same time, but that was in passing and the door was open. It wasn’t exactly private.

“Then maybe we should be alone.” Max offers with a smirk. He can smell your interest, but he wants this to be completely your choice.

“Seriously?” You ask again, still a little incredulous that he could be interested. “I mean…I didn’t think…” But he’s looking at you like that and you swallow the lump in your throat so hard that it bottoms out all the way down in your pussy. “I mean, yeah. That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah?” He bites his lip with his fangs exposed. “You want to be alone?” He waits for you to nod and he smirks. “How about now?”

“Eager.” But it makes you flush with your own fervent desire, wondering if he means just finding a dark corner of the party, leaving together, or if his mind has jumped straight to hooking up. It occurs to you, as you smirk and pick up your drink to down it quickly (no sense in wasting, obviously) that you don’t care. “Fuck it. Yeah. What do you have in mind?” Evan is going to be so fucking pissed but you just can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

He chuckles, surprised that you’ve said yes, but also very happy that you have. “I think the innocent camp counselor should go into the bathroom to be ravished by the dangerous vampire.” He hums as he lifts a brow.

Straight to hooking up, you acknowledge with a smirk. It doesn’t really surprise you. Max isn’t exactly known as a relationship guy around the office. Either way, you don’t mind making him a notch on your proverbial bedpost tonight. “You go for the innocent thing, huh?” It makes your smirk deepen just that much more. “Noted,” you murmur in his ear before taking the strut all the way out of your step and hightailing it out of the hotel ballroom toward the unisex bathroom down the hall.

Max watches you walk away for a long moment, admiring the view. “Turned you down, huh?” Evan’s pithy little comment makes his smirk reappear as he turns towards the other man.

“Guess so.” He chirps, unwilling to let Evan cause a scene and prevent his little rendezvous with you. Some sacrifices must be made and right now, wiping the smug, satisfied look off Evan’s face is on the chopping block.

“She’ll never date you. Or fuck you.” He tells Max, his eyes darting around but the little fucker is brave around a crowd in the ballroom - confident Max won’t cause a scene. “So you should just leave her alone.”

“Same could be said for you, slugger.” Max pops back with a wink. “After all, if I lived in the same apartment with that little Kitty Cat, I’m sure I would have wooed her by now.” He chuckles and gives Evan a sympathetic look. “Guess you just aren’t what she’s looking for…” Max lets Evan stew for a moment and right when the other man opens his mouth, he interrupts him. “Whelp! I better go take a piss, all the Bloody cocktails have gotten to me.” He smirks. “Try the special sangria I have behind the bar.” He confides. “They have it just for me, but tell them Max said it was okay.” He turns around and whistles as he walks towards the bathrooms, knowing Evan is fuming.

It takes just long enough before you hear footsteps outside the bathroom door for you to start doubting yourself. Wondering if you just made a completely dumbass mistake that’s going to make life hell at work from now on, or if Max really did use the specific word ravishing or a million other little paranoid concerns. You’re in the process of telling yourself to get a goddamn grip when the bathroom door clicks open.

Max raises a brow at you, seeing the doubt and second guessing on your face. “Change your mind, Pussy Cat?” He asks as he steps inside and closes the door. If you don’t want to do this, it wouldn’t be nice to have the rumor mill spin if someone looked in and saw the two of you. “I got caught up by Evan trying to warn me away from you.”

“Thought you might have changed yours,” you admit, but the news that it was Evan who caused the delay makes you relax again instantly. “Ev’s just…protective.”

He snorts and sends you a knowing look. “Evan wants to be in your bed.” He counters. “He’s like the annoying little puppy that chews on your shoelaces and tries - and fails - to hump your leg.”

“To be fair, he’s never actually tried to hump my leg.” The comparison makes you laugh though, and you shake your head. “He knows I’m not interested in him.”

“He knows…but he doesn’t know.” Max smirks as he flips the lock and takes a step towards you. “He might get the hint tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s not like you had been planning on broadcasting this little interlude around the office, so the idea of news of it getting back to Evan hadn’t even been on your mind.

“Only if you wanted.” He chuckles, reaching out and stroking your arm, his eyes on yours. “He’ll know when you scream my name.”

The corners of your lips tick up in a smirk as you step into him, feeling your heart speed up and your pussy clench at that kind of promise. “I guess you better make sure I scream loud enough, then.”

Max’s eyes flash and his smirk grows wider. “Only thing I like more than making a sale is a challenge, Pussy Cat.” He growls, stalking towards you like a predator cornering his prey.

It would probably come across as way too dramatic if you weren’t honestly so goddamn turned on, but as it is? You’re in exactly the right frame of mind to find that broad frame and cocky ass smirk enticing as hell. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Permission.” Quicker than he probably should have, but not enough to be too obvious, Max pins you against the row of industrial yet aesthetically pleasing sinks and hand soap units. Your back is to the mirror, and he leers with his nose pressed right against yours.

Your sharp gasp and wide eyes definitely lend themselves toward that whole innocent thing he supposedly likes, and the way he has your back bowed so that your tits are pushed against his chest is only adding to the heaving effect. "Max..."

"Yessssss, Pussy Cat?" He doesn't kiss you, not yet. He likes the teasing and the way that your breath catches in your throat. It makes the veins flood with blood and it smells so sweet as your body heats up even more than normal.

"Shit..." The realization makes you roll your eyes even as you're nearly panting in anticipation. "Of course you're a tease."

He tsks in disappointment at your seemingly bemoaning of his traits. "You don't think it enhances...." his 'fake' fangs graze your throat slowly before he retracts them and places the most delicate kiss on your galloping pulse, "anticipation?"

The way you almost whimper is a complete giveaway that it definitely is an enhancement, and you shiver a little. Being caged between his arms against the counter makes you feel caught in a delicious sort of way. "M-maybe."

"Hmmmmm." Max is already hard, pressing against your hip through your camp counselor shorts and one hand moves from the cold counter to grab your side. "Don't worry, Pussy Cat." He follows up the small kiss with a slow drag of his tongue up the line of your neck. "I won't bite hard...unless you want me to."

Evan’s ridiculous vampire claim rings in your ears again, completely unwanted, and you smirk as you tip your head to one side to give him all the access to your neck as he could possibly want. “It’s been a while since I’ve been properly manhandled,” you murmur, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth as his head hangs right beside yours. “Sounds like fun.”

Max hisses, cock jumping when your teeth nip his skin. "Fuck." He huffs, trying to decide if he wants a quickie, or if he just wants to destroy you. Your giggle makes up his mind for him, pulling away and dropping down to his knees to unbutton those ridiculously tiny shorts you are wearing. The prospect of devouring your cunt while you have knee highs and sneakers on is appealing.

"Shit." Max Phillips on his knees is not a sight you ever thought you'd see - both because you didn't ever think you'd actually be in this position with him and a little bit because you thought he might be one of those guys who was prissy about the smell or taste of pussy as an excuse to never give oral - but it's fucking glorious. It takes all of thirty seconds for your cutoffs to be tossed across the damn room, and Max's eyes are eye level with the soaked through crotch of your white cotton panties.

"Virginal." He hums, smirking up at you before he reaches out and rubs the damp fabric. "Even though I know you aren't, it makes you look even more like a teenage counselor that might survive the night."

Looking down at him with the most innocent expression you can muster, you can see just how wide his pupils have grown since getting the first bit of your clothing off. "Of course I'm innocent. I don't know why you would possibly think otherwise." You intone, wondering if he's into roleplay enough to want the whole act.

He chuckles, hooking a finger in the band of your panties so he can start dragging them down. "Because good virginal girls don’t let sinful vampires eat their pussy in the bathroom." He teases, leaning in and blowing on your heated pussy lips and giving you a fang-filled smile.

This time your whimper is accompanied by the eager way you open up for him, totally willing to spread your legs for him before he's even kissed you. It's not like you're expecting a lasting and deep connection out of fucking your boss in the bathroom at the company party. You're horny, not delusional.

Your ass is perched against the counter so Max wastes no time in shoving his shoulders under your legs, bringing your thighs to his shoulders and he winks at you, right before his mouth envelopes your cunt in a large bite, his fangs retracting again so he doesn't puncture your lips.

They definitely heard you moaning in the hallway, but you couldn't care less as you brace yourself with one hand on the counter and sink the fingers of your other hand into his thick, artfully messy hair. The heat of his mouth and determination of his tongue as he licks a long, flat stripe up the length of your sex is enough to have you tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in pleasure. Or it would be, if you didn't want to watch his every movement so desperately.

There is an art to pussy eating. He had tried to tell Evan that when the prick was in college with him, but he had been too busy thinking Max was an asshole. It might have been one of the reasons his roommate's girlfriend had jumped into his bed when Evan was away for a long weekend. She had obviously listened to the tips he had tried to impart. Enough to be curious, at least. His tongue twists around your clit and he flicks it playfully before his tongue slides down again, curious to taste you right from the honeyed little well between your thighs. Your fingers curl tightly, nails digging into his scalp instinctively before soothing the bite away. Apparently you never noticed Max having an overly long tongue, but he is curled into the absolute depths of you in a way that has you rolling your hips forward and pushing down as if he isn't already completely buried in your cunt.

Max groans into your folds, loving how you don't mind being a little more forceful. His cock twitches and he holds your legs wide so he can curl his tongue deeper, licking into you with fevered eagerness. He knows what the fuck he's doing, you'll give him that. Any idea that you had about him being selfish in bed is being completely washed away by the deep growling sounds floating up to you from his throat and the way those vibrations roll through your body to have you whining and writhing and almost ready to burst in no time.

His eyes fixate on you. Responding to the micro expressions as he works your cunt with his tongue. If you’re going to fuck him; you’re damn well going to have nothing but good things to say about him. His fingers dig into the tender flesh of your thighs and he huffs, not needing to breathe, but you would expect him to make some noise.

“Holy shit, Max—” Every time you get a gulp of air he pushes it out again, cutting off your moan of his name and twisting it into a harsh gasp with a dexterous flick of his tongue that swirls around your clit like a lollipop. “S—so— good! Fuck.”

He chuckles into you, waiting until you look down at him again before he sends you a small wink and sucks your clit into his mouth, ripping your orgasm out of you.

You’ve never outright just screamed while cumming before, but this one comes tearing out of you like an igniting fire that leaves you shaking and cursing and grasping at any bit of him you can get your hands on so that you don’t just collapse backward into one of the sinks behind you. “Oh my fucking god, Max.” You’re practically dizzy from the force of it, which just makes you giggle in filthy glee when you can breathe again.

He is smug as he kisses your clit one last time before he leans back and looks up at you. “Did I pass muster, counselor?” He teases.

“With the first test.” You nod eagerly, getting air back in your lungs as you reach to drag him up for a kiss. You haven’t gotten to yet and now that he’s had his mouth on you, you’re dying to indulge.

Max goes willingly, fusing his mouth to yours and sliding his hands up under your shirt. Wanting to get his hands on your tits for a long time, he moans as he cups them over your bra and slides his tongue into your mouth at the same time.

Moaning into the kiss is a natural instinct. His large hands envelope your overheated skin easily, somehow easing the heat of arousal at the same time he intensifies it. It’s you who tears your shirt away, ready to just throw every stitch aside and thoroughly fucking enjoy yourself.

He pulls away from you to admire the view as he unhooks your bra and tosses it away. "Fucking in your shoes, I'm digging it." He teases, pinching your nipples and ducking down to pull one into his mouth.

“Feels—” His talented mouth cuts you off and you almost squeal, letting it dissolve into a sinful moan. “Dirtier.” You finish your thought with one hand cradling his head to your tits encouragingly and the other fisting his shirt blindly to follow the trail of his torso down to the pronounced bulge in his pants.

"You are dirty." He groans, pulling off your tit with a pop and then biting it playfully before he nips the other. "Gonna fuck you like the dirty fucking girl you are right here."

“It’s a good thing you got my pussy nice and wet, then.” With one hand wrapped around the thick length protruding from his pants, your other starts working open his belt. “It’ll be nice and easy to slide that big cock in right away.”

He smirks and stands straight while you pull open his pants and groans when his cock is your hot hands. "Fuck." He hisses, twitching when your thumb presses against the tip. "I'm gonna be balls deep and die happy." He jokes.

"You mean you're not a real undead bad boy?" Putting on a pout of faux disappointment keeps you from laughing, knowing that he knows all about Evan's Max is a vampire crusade. The very last thing you're about to do when you have his thick length throbbing in your hand is laugh. "Darn."

He doesn't even answer you, just thrusts into your grip. "Line me up, Pussy Cat." He hums. "I'm gonna make you cum like this then I'm going to turn you over so I can watch your ass bounce."

"Promises, promises," you tease, not that you have any doubt he can do it. He's not even out of breath while you're a panting and whimpering mess. You don't hesitate to do as he tells you, though, leaning back a little to let your legs fall open wide so that you can position the blunt head of his cock at the entrance of your dripping pussy.

"Fuck, look at that pretty little pussy cat." He smirks and watches you while he breeches your entrance and starts filling you steadily, inch by inch.

He feels thicker splitting you open than he did in your hand, and your head drops back when you let out a deep groan of pleasure. Max doesn’t stop until he’s fully bottomed out inside you and you don’t want him to - making lascivious noises of approval with every inch until his hips are flush against yours and then you’re diving back in for more kisses. Wrapping your arms around his neck keeps him close but you grind your hips down against his and whimper happily. “Fuck me, baby. Come on. Need you.”

Max snarls slightly, his grip turning bruising for a split second before he relaxes and grins at you. "I can do that, sweetheart." He growls. "Guaranteed." Pulling his hips back, he snaps them forward harshly.

“Yes!” The force of the thrust pushes you back on the counter and you keep your arms around Max, sinking your teeth playfully into his neck for a moment because he seemed to have liked you using your teeth earlier. “Just like that.”

"Fuck." His dick twitches deep inside you and his own fangs spring out of his gums. He doesn't bite you though. Not wanting to change you right now, so he just keeps his head over your shoulder so you don't see his slightly feral expression. His hips rock faster after you bite him, ready to give you what you want.

It’s fierce and needy after that. Rough in all the right ways, like you hadn’t been the only one secretly pining in the office ever since Max joined the company earlier in the year. Or, if not pining, you definitely weren’t the only one with filthy thoughts about the other. Every once in a while his grip tightens to near bruising and you moan every time, loving the harshness of a little pain with your pleasure. You’ve always been that way and know for a fact that Evan is gentler than a basket of fluffy kittens, which is one of the reasons you just never had any interest in your roommate. But this? This is your kind of fucking - dirty and delicious.

Groans pour out of his mouth, not because he's winded or anything human, but because you are fucking perfect. Taking his pace, his eagerness and wanting more. He can feel the way that you get even wetter when he forgets not to crush you for a second. Loses control slightly. It's intoxicating and your blood – fuck, it's like ambrosia right under the skin.

There’s no chance that people haven’t figured out what’s going on in here - from the locked door to your combined sounds to the harsh slap of skin on damp skin. Max’s cock is battering your pussy in the very best way and you hope like hell that you’ll be as sore as you think you will tomorrow. The idea of carrying that with you for a few days sounds perfect, especially if this is only going to be a one-time thing. Just a perfect little capsule of a memory of that one time you got railed in a hotel bathroom. Even that thought makes you gasp out in pleasure, legs tightening around his waist as you can feel the familiar twist of orgasm in your belly building up again.

“You gonna cum?” Max asks, smirking at you as he keeps drilling into you over and over again. He knows you are close, that fluttering little pussy of yours is about to explode and soak him. “Yeah, you are.” He huffs smugly. “Do it, Pussy Cat.”

You barely have it in you to be sassy in the moment, just rambling whatever pops into your head, and your fingers are digging into his leather covered shoulders with a tight pressure that doesn’t seem to phase him in the least. You turn your head to drag your teeth along the juncture of his long neck to egg him on. “So good,” you whine breathlessly, sucking hot marks into his skin with enthusiasm. “So fucking good, Max — fuck I’m gonna cum so hard.”

Max feels his face start to change, growling harshly and planting his face in your neck while he ramps up his pace to just beyond what is humanly possible. Wanting to feel it and hear you scream. “Do it.”

It takes mere seconds more, and you’re clinging to him when you feel the rush of overheated blood become an equally overheated flood from your cunt that drenches his cock with an unbelievable amount of cum. It’s so intense that your whole body locks up, turning your scream of his name into a strangled wail as you fall apart.

Hissing, Max doesn’t fuck you through it, instead he’s pulling out of you and manhandling you like a rag doll. Flipping you over and letting you fall forward while he pulls your cheeks apart and sinks back into your cunt with a victorious hum when your walls are still pulsing.

“Goddamn—fuuuck Max!” The strangled sob is punctuated by his name when he spears his cock back into you completely, burying his length to the hilt and extending the end of your orgasm so that your body shakes again in ecstasy as you try to grasp at anything on the counter so you don’t end up face down in a sink. You had no idea he was this strong - making you feel like a rag doll in his arm as he finds his rhythm again.

Now he’s grinning, watching his cock spear into you and make your ass bounce. His hands grip your hips as he rails into you. “Do it again.” He growls, wanting to feel you cum again. It’s a point of pride and he’s loving how you take it.

You’re about to gasp out a joke about how you’re gonna need a little more time before you can cum again when you lift your head to find his eyes in the mirror — and can’t find his face at all. The reflection of his clothing is clear as day: duster and shirt and torn open pants Moving behind you in rhythm with the merciless way he’s fucking you and fingerless gloves gripping tight to your hips as you find your own reflection unblemished in the large bathroom mirror. But Max? Max is as transparent as a summer breeze, only affecting the things he touches as you see his grip tighten on your flesh by the way the indents there deepen. You can feel it, and you can see the result, but you can’t see him.

“Holy shit…” With your eyes blown wide and the vision of your number one top fantasy right in front of you, another orgasm tears through you almost instantly. That years old pornographic dream of getting fucked by a vampire after getting through watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer is now so real that it’s turning your blood into wildfire and you can’t believe the way you moan as you shake and drench his cock all over again.

It’s your reaction that makes him slip up, the instant orgasm when you realize you don’t see his reflection. His fangs were grazing over your throat and when you clench down around him, he cuts you. Groaning when the coppery tang of your blood hits his tongue. Making him growl and start sucking sloppily while he fucks into you like the supernatural monster that he is.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” At this point you feel like your body might just tense up and be in a constant state of cumming for the rest of the time he’s fucking you. The sight of the light trickle of blood welling up on your neck only to be licked away by an invisible tongue seconds later makes you gasp and keen, and the instant realization that your vampire fantasy is now a vampire fetish just makes the whole thing better. For now the only downside is that he’s fucking you so hard that you can’t catch your breath to babble at him about how amazing it feels.

There’s a beauty to not being seen, not having his reflection in the mirror. You can’t see that his face has completely morphed. Turned into the more gruesome visage of his being. Brow heavy and eyes yellow tinged with red, Max snarls when he feels his body lock up, driving impossibly deep into your hot cunt and making a nearly demonic noise as he fills you with ropes of his impotent seed.

“Max!” Only his name falls from your tongue as he buries himself as deeply as possible in your body and follows you down the rabbit hole of pleasure. You feel boneless and wrecked and absolutely ecstatic in ways you can’t quite describe as you pant for air, crushed underneath his weight on the cold marble countertop.

He doesn’t need to recover or catch his breath. He could pull out of you right now and be perfectly fine, save for his face still being a twisted visage of the image he normally presented. Still he leans over you, savoring the feeling of your cunt fluttering and your thighs shaking. “Pussy Cat has a secret.” He teases playfully, his tongue lapping up one last drop of your blood before he bites his lip and lets a drop of his blood heal your wound as if it never happened.

“A fucking convenient one.” Still mostly breathless, you twist under him to be able to see his face. The ridges and bumps of his transformation draw your eyes across them as you take it all in, fascinated rather than terrified with his cock still buried inside you. Your eyelids flutter a little, that flash of pure attraction undeniable in your veins. The same ones he just drank from. “You’re actually a vampire?”

“Shocker.” Max makes his face smooth back out, his now brown eyes wide and his lips twisted into a grin. “Evan is actually right about something.” He chuckles and opens his mouth so his fangs descend again to show you.

“Fuck.” It’s all excitement and wonderment on your part and you can’t deny it at all. “That’s…so fucking sexy,” you admit with a self-conscious giggle.

“Knew I liked you.” He teases, slapping your ass playfully as he leans back to let you straighten up. “Least you don’t have to worry about an accident with me.”

“Thank god.” When you stand up again it’s like a miniature flood from your pussy and you laugh again. “Because you cum like a fucking Super Soaker.” It’s nothing a couple of paper towels can’t clean up, but it’s fun to tease.

“Is there any other way?” Max asks as he uses another sink to clean up and hands you the shorts you had worn. Your panties slide into his pocket with a mischievous wink to you.

“Pathetic dribbles, usually.” You’ve never been dishonest with yourself about why you’re single, knowing that you like a rougher and more physically demanding sex life and that balancing that with a man who isn’t also an absolute jackass or abusive in some way isn’t easy. It’s why you embraced the ‘Cat’ jokes. Better a cat lady than miserable or bored, at least in your book. “Don’t worry,” you murmur, offering him a smile as you slip on your shorts. “I won’t tell.”

It’s surprisingly nice to hear you say that. No fear or worry in your voice, just confidence that he can trust you to keep a secret. The only other people in the office who knew are the ones he’s already changed. And Evan’s stupid ass, but no one believes him. “Let me feed you more than lame ass Halloween cocktails and canapés tomorrow.” He says suddenly. “Before I fuck you to death again.”

“I—what?” Having reached down to pick your t-shirt and bra up off the floor, you straighten up and look at him quizzically. Not because you’re not interested, obviously, but just because you’re surprised. “Are you asking me out?”

“I mean— I guess—uh, yeah.” He frowns slightly as if he’s just worked out that is what he’s actually doing. “Unless you have a strict ‘fuck but not date your boss’ policy?” He jokes, trying to cover up the slight nervous fear that you might turn him down. That you just wanted a quick bang in the bathroom.

“Not at all.” It’s almost a pity to get dressed, but he’s already cleaned up and tucked himself away, so you clip your bra on again easily. “Actually I’ve never fucked or dated my boss before at all, so this is new territory for me.” You pull your t-shirt over your head and adjust, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Seven o’clock tomorrow? You know where I live.”

“Yeah.” Max nods, checking his clothes in the mirror and then looking back at you. “Got some blood on your shirt, Pussy Cat.”

“Call it a souvenir.” A memento, you think with a grin. Throwing him a wink, you lean in to kiss him one more time before moving back toward the door. “See you out there?” It’s an effort to not come across as clingy, that you are so overly nonchalant. Because in reality you want to prance out there on his arm and proudly dare anyone to give you shit about disappearing to fuck.

Evan pounces on you as soon as you appear out of the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “Tell me you didn’t.” He practically hisses.

“Didn’t what?” You ask, feigning innocence. Of course he was going to get nasty about this. It’s not like it’s a secret that he hates Max.

“Come on, we need to go.” Evan is nearly panicking, seeing the spot of blood on your shirt. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh my god you’re so overprotective.” Overprotective and with an annoyingly tight grip as he steers you toward the other end of the ballroom with determination. You barely have a chance to glance back, catching a glimpse of Max right before even drags you out the door. You might have even liked the little bit of manhandling if you hadn’t just been fucked within an inch of your life by a vampire.

Max chuckles to himself as he sees you pull a harsh frown at your roommate. Tomorrow is going to be fun. He hopes like hell you don’t tell Evan about your date.

******

You oversleep like hell the next day, worn out but feeling energized all the same. The ache in your thighs is so gorgeously satisfying and you sit in the living room in your pjs with a book until it’s time to shower and get ready for your date. Evan has been out doing god knows what all day with Tim so you haven’t had to avoid more arguing like the night before. It got bad enough that you have nearly threatened to move out if he tried to keep telling you what to do. By the time Evan comes home, you’re showered and dressed and finishing your makeup, just watching the clock tick down in anticipation.

“Where are you going?” The mournful eyes he gives you can’t hide being bitterly upset. He doesn’t know why you don’t believe him. He’s only got your best interests at heart, maybe a little selfish on his part, but that was to be expected.

“Out.” This time you don’t mean to be evasive, you just really don’t know where Max is taking you. “Dinner, I think. Did you have a good day?” Despite being pissed at him for presuming to tell you how to live your life, he’s still your friend.

“No.” Evan shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, but Max is dangerous.” He stresses, imploring you to understand.

“Ev, I really don’t want to fight with you, but you need to drop it.” Pinching your eyes shut doesn’t banish the tinge of a headache that you can feel forming from the topic, and you turn to check your reflection in the mirror one more time - eventually biting back a grin when you remember looking up to see no reflection at all behind you last night. “I know you don’t like him,” you tell Evan. “But you are also very biased against him by your own admission.”

He sighs sulkily. “Want me to go with you?” He offers, wanting to find out where you are going. You’re mad at him and it’s not something he likes, but he hates you being so blasé about Max. “Maybe we could go to that bar around the corner.”

The lobby buzzer sounds from the wall panel in your kitchen at the same moment you turn and frown at your roommate. “Do I want you to come on my date with me? Come on, Evan. No. That’s both weird and honestly a little rude. Especially when I haven’t even told you who it’s with.” He’ll find out in a second, but you go over and hit the buzzer to let him into the lobby so he can come upstairs. Evan’s going to have to get over it eventually.

“You’re going on a date?” If possible, he looks even more remorseful, but he shakes his head. “I didn’t— it’s not Max, is it?”

“What if it was?” You pick up your jacket from the hook by the door and double check your pockets for your wallet, phone, and keys. “I couldn’t tell you, could I?” It just makes you shake your head, honestly a little heart sore over the whole thing. “I can’t be excited that the guy I’ve liked for ages finally asked me out because my roommate is on a righteous crusade against him.”

“It’s not a crusade!” Evan insists, reaching out for your hand. “I d-don’t want to see anything happen to you.” He doesn’t want you dating anyone but he really doesn’t want you dating Max. The idea that you have a crush on him hurts, considering you know what he did to him.

“Ev…” You sigh, turning to face him even as you hear footsteps approaching your door. “I swear, if he hurts me or doesn’t treat me right, or does anything that I don’t like, I will dump his ass faster than lightning.” Even so, the rhythmic knock on the door makes you grin, eager to see Max again after just a day.

It’s important that you qualify that you don’t like talking about Max hurting you or being disrespectful, because there are definitely kinds of ‘hurt’ that you enjoy more than most. “And I’m not asking you to suddenly be best friends with him or even spend time around him outside of work. I’m just…I really like him. And I want to see where this goes.”

Was what happened between them in college shitty? Of course. But that lies as much on Evan’s shitty girlfriend’s shoulders as anyone else in your opinion, and you squeeze his hand before going to open the door for Max.

“Hey Pussy Cat!” Max grins, wearing jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket. He peels off his sunglasses as he looks you up and down with a very pleased expression and then offers the flowers he had brought. Flowers for dates were a must. Especially after the way he fucked you. “You look good enough to eat!”

“Don’t be mean,” you chide him, knowing his hearing is good enough that he definitely just heard you defend him to Evan. The flowers he has brought are stunning - deep reds and purples dotted with blues. “Do you want to come in while I put these in water? They’re beautiful.”

“Are you inviting me in?” He waggles his brows playfully and Evan nearly turns purple.

“SEE? He has to be invited in! Only vampires do that!” Evan’s voice nearly reaches the soprano range, it’s gone up so many octaves.

Max chuckles and steps into the entryway of your apartment. “Actually pal…that’s the same for demons, goblins and warlocks. Witches get a free pass for some reason.”

“Witches are still human.” Is the explanation you offer, figuring that playing along with the game is the way to be the least conspicuous. “Do you two need to be separated while I put these in my room or can you be in the same room without killing each other?” It’s kind of an honest question, all things considered, but you raise an eyebrow at Max asking him to behave as you grab your vase from the kitchen counter.

“I’m always a team player.” Max reminds you innocently, even fluttering his lashes at you. He’s not physically hurt Evan since punching him in the nose after he had been a little shit and lied to get him expelled and academically shunned from every fucking college but the one where he was turned into a vampire. “Ev and I will be fine, won’t we?” He throws his arm around Evan’s shoulder and squeezes him close as he grins at him, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

“Be nice, please.” Is your one request, made to both of them, before you disappear to deposit the beautiful buds in the vase that will sit on your bedside table.

“Get off of me.” Evan hisses, shrugging out from Max’s arm and turning on him. “If you hurt her…” He trails off to seem more threatening and Max shoots him a grin.

“Buddy… pal…” He coos. “Don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine. Just…” He winks at Evan. “Make sure you have some good headphones tonight.”

You can hear them as you disappear down the hall and allow yourself to grin, shaking your head at the way Max doesn’t even pretend to assure Evan you won’t get hurt. Because there is no way your friend could wrap his head around the fact that having Max’s fangs cut into your skin was half of what made you cum so hard last night. Pain and pleasure mixed – and the promise of more – make you shiver with anticipation as you quickly drop the vase of flowers beside your bed.

Maybe you’ll ask Max to go back to his place, though, just so you don’t rub it in. Because you are definitely going to make some noise tonight. Your throbbing pussy insists on it.

______

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 #Bloodsucking Bastards #spooktober #monster fucking #vampire edition

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wardenparker · 3 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - Epilogue

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Pregnancy. Some healing of generational trauma, reconciliation, regret, past pain. But mostly fluff. Summary: In the time after returning to your original timeline, life seems to have many more surprises left for you and Max. Notes: Editing this chapter has been a good old fashioned cry at my laptop, I will admit that entirely. This little family has given us such a wild ride, and we are so grateful to each one of you for reading along for every twist and turn. Please join us for Hummingbird Has Landed, starting next week!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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